City of Magic: The Complete Series by Helen Harper (book club recommendations TXT) 📕

‘The kitchen’s through there,’ I pointed. ‘We need water and some clean cloths.’ And ideally a surgeon, an operating theatre and several gallons of donated blood. I hadn’t watched nearly enough episodes of Grey’s Anatomy for this shit.

I carefully removed the blanket from his body. He was completely naked, although his modesty, such as it was, was protected by the amount of dried blood covering him. When Cath came back in with a bowl balanced in one hand and some clean tea towels in the other, I wasted no time in getting to work. I dipped the corner of a towel into the water and gently wiped away the worst of the gore to reveal angry-looking welts and several deep cuts. He must have lost an incredible amount of blood.

I hissed under my breath, thanking the heavens that I’d had the foresight to pick up some basic first-aid supplies during my supermarket run. ‘Can you manage to bring the trolleys round, Cath?’ I asked. ‘There’s some antiseptic and painkillers in one of them that might help.’ Unless the poor bastard was bleeding internally, of course; I’d worry about that later.

She nodded and left, probably glad to have something useful to do that didn’t involve getting beaten up or cleaning up someone else who’d been beaten up. I took advantage of her absence and leaned towards Monroe. ‘What happened? Is everything about to go to complete shit?’

He groaned, his eyelids fluttering open. ‘You,’ he muttered. ‘You’re still here.’

It was impossible to tell whether he was heartened or dismayed by that little fact. ‘Monroe,’ I said urgently, ‘is the sky about to fall in? Is the end of the world about to happen?’

He shook his head weakly, a worrying green pallor on his skin. ‘She stopped it. Madrona stopped it.’

A wave of relief flooded through me. It was over. Whoever she was – and whatever she was – Madrona had done what was needed and all the crazy shenanigans of the last few days would finally come to an end. The strange blue light that had exploded over the sky must have had something to do with it. I breathed out.

But something still wasn’t making sense. I squinted out at the street then returned my gaze to Monroe’s crumpled form. ‘Then where is she? Does she know you’re here?’

‘She’s … gone,’ he croaked.

I frowned. ‘Gone where?’

His eyeballs rolled back into his skull and his head fell to the side as he lost consciousness again. I cursed, even though it was probably for the best given the state he was in.

If Monroe was right about this end of the end-of-the-world business, at least the rest of us could relax. We weren’t all going to die. I sent a quick, silent prayer of gratitude to whoever might be listening and returned to cleaning up my patient as best as I could.

When Cath returned, balancing several bandages and a bottle of antiseptic, she wasn’t alone. Lizzy was with her, her eyes clear but her face pale. I guessed she’d sobered up.

When her gaze landed on Monroe, she let out a sharp cry. ‘It’s true then,’ she gasped.

Watching Lizzy carefully, I got to my feet and took some gauze and bandages from Cath. ‘What’s true?’

‘I thought it was a dream. I thought maybe I’d imagined it, even though I can feel it here.’ She touched her chest.

‘Lizzy, tell me what it is. What’s true? What can you feel?’

‘The werewolves. They’re all dead.’ Her eyes turned glassy. ‘I don’t know how I know it but I do.’

I sucked in a breath and glanced at Monroe. His chest was rising and falling but he remained comatose. ‘That’s why he’s here and why he’s alone,’ I half whispered. ‘The poor bastard.’

I knelt down beside him again and poured a small amount of antiseptic out to start working on the worst of his wounds. He didn’t so much as flinch.

‘Help me out, Lizzy,’ I said. ‘We’ve got to clean him up as best as we can. There’s no one else who can help him.’

‘We’re going to need more than a few fucking plasters, Charley!’

I paused and gave her a level look. ‘I’m open to suggestions.’

Cath nervously put her hand up in the air.

‘We’re not in school,’ I told her. ‘You can speak.’

‘If you have a needle and thread,’ she said, ‘we can stitch him up. That should help.’

Lizzy nodded. ‘I’ve got an old sewing kit.’

I shrugged. ‘It’ll have to do.’

Cath put her hand up again. ‘Um, did you say there were werewolves?’ she asked in a tiny voice.

Lizzy and I exchanged looks. ‘Yeah.’

‘And is he a werewolf?’

I licked my lips. ‘Yeah.’

She eyed Monroe for a moment. ‘Cool.’

‘I’ll go and get that sewing kit,’ Lizzy said faintly.

I ran a hand through my hair. ‘Good plan.’

Sewing up wounds on television looks so easy. Then again, those doctors and nurses have usually got proper surgical thread; all we had was a choice between bright pink or neon orange cotton. Even after sterilising the needles with boiling water and making sure Monroe’s wounds were properly clean, it still felt like we were playing doctors and endangering his life. It didn’t help when both Lizzy and I twice ripped through his skin and made matters worse rather than better. She had to stop twice to retch. I breathed through my nose and kept going, but it was still a close-run thing.

It was only thanks to Cath’s presence that we managed to finish and that Monroe didn’t end up looking like a warped version of Frankenstein’s monster. Her stitches were neat and did what they were supposed to; my attempts were akin to those of a three year old on a fizzy-drink binge.

‘You’ve done this sort of thing before,’ I said, once we’d finished. She didn’t look a day older than seventeen. ‘Are you like Dougie Howser?’

Cath leaned back on her haunches. ‘Who?’ she asked blankly. ‘I don’t know who that is. I’ve always wanted to be a doctor.