Obfuscate by Killion Slade

relief.”
    I slid off my bed and reached for his hands. “Hang in there, Briggs,” I whispered. “We’ll find you the help you need. Is there anyone you want us to call—someone you might know on this side of the planet who can help?”
    His skin felt clammy under my palms. He swallowed hard as even more color drained from his face. He choked out the words. “Sister, father. I’ve sent for Kalina. Here, soon.”
    “Good. You rest now. I’ll let the nurse know she should let them in as soon as they arrive.” A faint, anguished smile crossed my lips, and I kissed his forehead. His skin was hot as the asphalt of Disney World’s parking lot in August.
    A slow tear caressed my cheek as my grief over Dakota overwhelmed me once again.
    I am to blame for his pain.
    I turned to walk through the hanging curtain to check on Khaldon and Harris. Still weakened, I tripped, fell forward, and caught hold of my IV pole to keep from crashing to the ground. I took the privacy curtain down with me in a clang of metal, spasm of pain, and tangle of canvas.
    Khaldon leaned forward to help me, and I raised my hand to signal him to stop. The nurse grunted and tsked at me. She helped me to my feet, untangling the curtain from my blood line. She yanked the privacy sheet out of my arms, offering a thank you very much look, and she whisked it away into a laundry hamper.
    I was pretty sure the nursing staff was still mad at me because of the way I kept biting them while they dug the silver out of my skin and muscles. I tried my best to not bare my fangs at her through most of the extraction, but I found it harder than I could manage. To finish removing the deeper pieces of silver embedded in my bones, the hospital staff had to secure me to the bed and sedate me several times. When I came to, I wouldn’t remember where I had been or what had happened, even though it had been explained to me several times prior.
    Overall, I was lucky to be alive but the whole blood transfusions were taking longer than expected for healing. Dr. Rattanakosin had explained how after a severe silver breach, mending always took its toll and time on unlucky victims, especially newbies. Bagged blood was sufficient, but I needed to live-feed. We all did.
    I took a step toward Khaldon and glanced over at Harris and the girl. She was conscious and drinking water. None of us presented much better than Briggs, but at least we were alive.
    Khaldon sat on the edge of his bed across the narrow walkway with silver thermite oxide burns deep into his legs, hands, chest, and face. His skin had blackened from the third-degree burns. He also had a pint of whole blood draining into him, but his wounds were healing slowly due to the extensive damage from the silver poisoning as well.
    I picked up the weapons lying on the sheet and then sat on the bed beside him. “Where did these come from?” I examined the dragon scythe blade, burnt metal arrow, and a crossbow bolt.
    “This is the blade the Rakshasa used on Briggs. And this—” Khaldon plucked the arrow from my hand. He centered it over his left thigh. “This was the flaming silver thermite arrow I dug out of my leg.”
    “Masochistic much? Do you like being reminded of horrible things that have happened to you?”
    He shrugged and then winced at the effort. “Warriors historically keep their battle implements.” Khaldon handed me back the arrow and gingerly picked up the blade. “Figured Briggs would like to have this one, especially since it has caused him so much strife.” Khaldon grimaced as he tried to sit up straighter then leaned back against the pillows.
    “So you’re going to give it to him as a souvenir? You want to keep the thing which almost burned you alive?”
    “Indeed. And just for the record, the silver thermite did burn me—while I was alive.” He tried to dance his eyebrows at me, but failed miserably. “I have a couple of souvenirs for you too.”
    I tilted my head in interest, wondering just what