As soon as the door closed behind him, I allowed Callie to come out of my hair and stitch me back up. My wounds probably would have healed on their own if given enough time, but I didn't want to take the chance.
Besides, I think Callie had been taking it personally, my lack of trauma for her to help me heal. It had been months since I was last in this position, and I was beginning to think that I was missing it.
"Dear Mother… you might be long gone, but your reach is, apparently, everlasting," I grunted, not happy that abuse and torture had been so much part of my life that I could actually miss it.
I went back to staring up at the shiny ceiling, wondering what I should do next. I got pretty much everything out of him that I needed; his motive, means, and opportunity were all laid bare thanks to his own confession.
Should I wait around to see if this angel pops up? Was the angel even real or merely a delusion?
If I killed buddy now, then I would be strapped to the table until someone figured out where to find me. But if I let him carve out my organs, then he would think that I was dead and would release me himself.
Then I would have to hunt down my body parts to make sure that no one got something they weren't expecting, but it was doable.
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
"Well, good news for the both of us, you don't have any known drug in your system," grunted Phil, coming back into the room. Once again, his head was buried in the paperwork in his hands. "But your reactions are still somewhat concerning."
I hummed an apology but couldn't care less what he thought.
"Oh well, let's get back to work. Females are known to have a higher tolerance to pain than males. Maybe you just have a higher threshold than most."
Picking up the scalpel, Phil turned his attention back to me. "What the—" he grunted, seeing the perfect stitches that traveled up and down my torso. "Who was in here with you?" demanded the phlebotomist as he looked around the room.
Realizing that there was no one there, he leaned forward to get a better look at the sutures. "Most doctors can be identified by their sutures; did you know that?" he murmured, reaching down to touch the black thread. "It becomes their signature after a while. But I have never seen a doctor use a black thread like this. Is it even surgical material?"
He gently scratched at one of the middle stitches as if worried that he was going to hurt me if he touched it too hard. The man was seriously becoming a contradiction.
Cocking his head to the side, he blindly reached out to the silver tray beside him and grabbed a pair of scissors. "But this would mean that someone had found you, and that is just not possible. I have worked in this hospital for years, and so far, no one has noticed this room."
He turned only enough to be able to pick up a pair of tweezers with his left hand, his eyes never leaving my incision. "So, who could have done it?"
Lifting up the stitch with the tweezers, he tried to cut Callie with the scissors.
"No one did it. I am just friends with your angel and he didn't want me dead," I shrugged, not at all worried that I was lying through my teeth.
I was pretty sure that the angels and I had irreconcilable differences, what with them wanting me and Nicholas dead and all. But that didn't mean that I couldn't fuck with his head a bit.
He paused before completing the cut, his beady eyes fixating on my face.
"Not possible. My angel doesn't show himself to anyone but me. That is what makes me special."
While Phil was contemplating my words, Callie unhooked herself from my body and his tweezers and slipped back into my hair, using the other side of my body as coverage.
"Then why has she taken back the stitches?" I smirked. With a pointed look, I looked down at my body, completely healed and with no sign of the black thread. "If I wasn't blessed by the angels, would I be able to do that?"
-----
"The antiseptic smell is fucking with our senses," grunted Mathew, clearly not impressed. The wolves were whining about the scent messing with them and they were desperate to get out of the hospital, just to get away from the smell.
Mathew nodded his agreement, and his wolves fled like the hounds of hell were on their tails.
"The Knights are starting with the top floor and working their way down," interjected Sasha as he checked his phone. "But this is a lot harder to do without some type of call."
"And just why is that?" asked Mathew, a sneer crossing his features for a split second before they returned to normal.
"Because Natalia hasn't asked to be saved, and no crime has been committed," grunted Viktor, rubbing his forehead as he pushed his monster to the breaking point, trying to find some type of lead. But it was like his monster was refusing to cooperate.
"There are so many things wrong with that statement; I can't even begin to process it," grunted Levi as he stared down at his phone, not bothering to look at anyone.
"There is no crime?" asked Greyson, watching what ever Levi was doing from over his shoulder. "A serial killer had taken our woman, and there is no crime being committed, according to you?"
"First, she if she desperately wanted to be found, I could find her," sighed Viktor. It wasn't like he was completely infallible here. He had his own guidelines to follow, and when they weren't being met, it was like his hands were tied behind his back.
Everyone assumed that the Van Helsings didn't suffer after the curse, but this was his cross to bear. He had to stick to the rules and the laws. And right now, there was no monster law being violated.
"The killer is a human," mused Sasha, looking at his old Head. "That is why this isn't registering. Nothing about this situation is violating monster law."
"Pretty much," sighed Viktor. "Which means that we have to tread carefully. We have to hand him over to Mike in order for him to be punished as a human."
"I hate to point it out, but you might need to look at rewriting some of those laws of yours," grunted Greyson just as Levi lifted his head.
"I think I found where she might be."