How to Save Your School From Soul Stealing Demons

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

He speeds by a stop sign and starts her down a list of things that I think are meant more for her sake than Watts's: checking his breathing, counting his pulse, keeping pressure on the wound.

Thanks to his blatant disregard for Bradford's small-town speed limits, we're pulling into an empty driveway not even two minutes later. It must be his house—given that his parents are doctors, they might have supplies around to patch Watts up with.

If there's even a reason to patch him up. If he's even still alive.

I swallow, arguing with the intrusive thoughts. He's alive. Ambrose knows what he's talking about, knows what he's doing and how to fix this before it gets any worse. I have to believe that. I have to believe I'm not about to lose someone else who means so much to me.

Not for the first time, I'm flooded with the overwhelming need to put an end to all this. Because no matter if Watts makes it or not, the fact is, other people are losing people they care about.

Ambrose hops out of the truck and around to the back, opening the door to examine Watts. He lifts the ripped shirt, and I flinch away from the sight of the open wound. "The bleeding's stopped, but he'll need stitches. I can do it."

Renny looks down at Watts's relaxed face, still cupped in her hands. She lifts one to wipe at a tear that falls from her eye, and sniffles in a way that makes me realize, despite depending on her for protection so many times through all this, she's just as scared as I am. "Why isn't he waking up?"

As if spurred by the question, he twitches, face scrunching. I feel some of the tension leave my body as he stirs, hissing in pain when he moves his torso. His eyes flutter open, eyebrows slowly rising from behind his glasses frames as he looks up at Renny.

"What..." he trails off, looking around at me and Ambrose.

"You fainted," Ambrose says, getting inside to help Watts sit up. "You were out for two minutes or so."

Renny raises a sleeve to dry her face and lets out a long breath. "Scared the shit out of us."

"Some of us more than others."

She acknowledges his call-out with nothing more than a glare before turning back to Watts, who's still pale-faced. "Why didn't you tell us about your stomach?"

"My...?" He looks down, eyes widening at the sight of the injury. "Holy—"

"Don't freak out," Ambrose says. "It's bad, but it'll be okay. She must've got you pretty good with those claws. "

"Are we at a hospital?"

"Sort of. As far as you're concerned."

Watts, still drowsy, takes a few seconds to realize what he means. "You're gonna...?"

Ambrose nods, opening the back door wider so he can help Watts out. Renny and I both get out too, heading around to the other side of the truck.

"Don't worry." Even shouldering what seems to be most of Watts's weight, Ambrose shows no signs of strain as we walk to the front door. "I'm good at stitches. Ask Renny—I stitched up her cheek when she busted it in the eighth grade."

"From the knife fight?"

Renny snorts. "Knife fight?"

As we stop in front of the door so Ambrose can fish out his keys, Watts looks over at her with furrowed brows. "Your scar. I heard you got it from a knife fight."

She lets out a short laugh. "I got it from trying to hang up a picture frame. Sorry to disappoint."

He shakes his head with a dopey expression, still seeming slightly out of it. "Ren, as if you could disappoint me."

She rolls her eyes in response, but can't fight off a smile. You have to admire his persistence—the guy has a near-death experience and starts flirting not even five minutes later.

We head inside, and Ambrose helps Watts over the raised threshold before closing the door behind us. The interior is way more modern-looking than mine or Watts's house, as is the decor. The foyer is open and light, leading right into the living room on the right. On the left, there's a door and a short walk to the stairs, which lead up to a balcony-style second floor. Between the flowers in the large pink vase next to the door, the fancy chandelier, and the mauve runner that leads back to the kitchen, it's way more feminine than anywhere I would've pictured Ambrose living.

He opens the nearby door to a half-bath and flicks on the light. "I'll take care of the wound in here. I should have everything I need."

I managed to fight off vomit at the sight of the blood and the gash, but I should probably quit while I'm ahead. Especially judging from how I reacted to medical attention in the nurse's office. "I'll wait in the living room."

"Me too—I don't wanna crowd you." Renny shifts her weight as Watts limps inside after Ambrose. She runs a hand through her hair, turns towards the den, but then back around after only a step.

"Watts?" she calls his name and he turns, leaning up against the doorway to support himself, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

She steps forward, places her hands on the sides of his face, and presses her lips against his.

My eyes widen—I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. With a smile and a mumbled, "Finally," Ambrose rolls his eyes and turns away to sort out his supplies.

Watts practically melts against her, and when she pulls away, there's a wide grin on his red face. Even after she removes her hands from him, it takes him a few seconds to open his eyes.

"Just... something to keep your mind off the pain." She shrugs as if it's no big deal, but the fierce blush on her cheeks says otherwise.

"That... yeah," he breathes, "I think that will probably work. Definitely."

Before she can turn away, he's talking again. "I guess I'll have to get hurt more often. I mean, if I'd known getting stabbed was all it took for you to do that, I would've pissed off one of those demons a lot sooner."

"Watts." She grabs his face again and his gaze falls on her mouth, obviously anticipating another kiss. "If you even think about getting hurt like that again, I'll kill you myself."

Somehow, I think, coming from Renny, that's almost as affectionate.

I KNOW THE KISS IS SO CLICHE BUT 🤪 I LOVE IT ANYWAY LOL