Read Online Altered Souls by Karice Bolton - Free Book Online Page A

up one, I placed it under his head to act as a pillow and threw the others next to me. I wanted Logan to know everything I was doing, whether or not he could hear me.
    “Okay,” I whispered, “I’m going to start unbuttoning your shirt. I’m starting from the top and will work my way down.”
    He remained lifeless until my finger gently glided along his collarbone. A slight twitch of his mouth signaled life.
    Please let that be a sign.
    Not able to remain calm any longer, I ripped his shirt open, horrified at what I saw. It was alive — active. The room started spinning, and I braced myself. My legs began to buckle slightly, so I looked away trying to refocus my attention. I couldn’t associate the laceration with Logan. I needed to focus on healing the wounds, not the person. The injury could be on anyone. I had to separate the two; otherwise I’d never make it through.
    The strength returned to both my body and mind. I looked down at his injury to gauge what might be happening. Figure out how it was forming.
    From the look of the slice, the initial insertion point was where the infection began so the older the cut, the more likely the infection’s core.
    The positive side of that observation, if there could be one, was that the bleeding tended to stop wherever the infection had started. Infection points were signaled by tiny red veins darting under the surface of the skin, allowing me to figure out how the cut was spreading. As far as I could tell, the flesh wound broke off into two more directions and that was where the blood continued to escape. I couldn’t believe this was Logan I was staring at.
    “We’re going to get through this,” I replied.
    I tried not to look at Logan’s face. “First we’re going to purify your blood. I’m going to grab some sarsaparilla bark, senna leaves, and grape root. I’ll boil it quickly and apply it to the oldest part of your wound.”
    Talking to him helped me feel not so alone.
    “Once we get you conscious again, I’ll feed you lots of hoppy beer. See how crazy I can get you while I continue to purify your blood,” I hoped my fake sense of reality would help bring him calmness. Who was I kidding? I needed it to bring me calmness. “Hops actually have a lot of good attributes. When you get better we’ve got to find time for you to learn.”
    My stomach started twisting in knots at the thought of never getting to teach him healing or —I couldn’t go there. I needed to stay on task.
    Going to the far shelves, I realized whatever my aunt had cooked up last involved the main ingredients I needed, hence the sweet smell of root beer and grapes. The tincture was already on the shelf. How could that be? Not that I would have faith in her version— I needed to cook up my own batch— but why would she have brewed that particular tincture? Remembering Logan’s words about not trusting my aunt, I quickly grabbed the raw ingredients and headed to the stove, pouring everything into the pot.
    While the mixture heated, I continued onto the next compress for the other part of his wound. This wasn’t reversing the spell, but at least it might make his body begin to fight the infection so he’d regain consciousness, and we could go from there.
    “I’ve got what I need now,” I hollered back to Logan. As I grabbed the compresses and white pine and tea tree oils, I headed back to my patient. The mixture on the stove was beginning to boil, releasing more of the familiar scent of root beer and grape. I couldn’t worry about my aunt’s overwhelming ability to provide the right ingredients at the right times just yet.
    “This is going to sting a bit,” I told Logan, sprinkling the white pine oil on the freshest part of his cut.
    He gave no reaction — not even a grimace.
    “You can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt,” I teased him. “You don’t have to act this tough.”
    Instead of crying like I wanted to, I grabbed the compress and began dabbing away the dried blood and