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She pulled on the U-shape collar of her crimson-colored dress. Her partially bare chest was covered in blood from her wound. Sebastian sloshed the rag around, wrung it out, and wiped her chest. Delicate swipes as to not press on the wound and hurt her. He helped pull back her collar, but respected her modesty. He wiped under the collar, soaking up as much of the blood as possible.
He dunked the rag once more, picked it up, and wrung out the excess water. He pressed the wet rag against her wound.
“Hold the rag there,” he commanded.
She did as instructed, never taking her eyes off him.
“You don’t fear me?” Sylvia asked.
“No,” he replied as he opened his small box.
He removed a steel instrument almost as long as his forearm. It had a narrow point on one end and two finger loops and a screw on the other. He sloshed the narrow point in the bucket.
“Do you know how to remove it?”
“I run a tavern. Taverns can get rowdy. You’re not the first one I’ve done this for. This is going to hurt. Are you ready?”
She nodded.
“You can squeeze my arm if the pain is too much,” Sebastian offered.
“I can tolerate a lot of pain,” Sylvia responded as she removed the rag.
“The offer still stands.” He brought the instrument up to the wound. He moved to extract the bullet.
“Wait!” Sylvia shouted to stop him from proceeding. “Do I need to ask if it’s made of wood?”
Sebastian chuckled. “Do you think I’d go through all of this trouble only to harm you?”
She focused on his brown eyes and didn’t answer.
“It’s not.”
Sylvia licked her lips and wrapped her hands around his muscular forearms. Her fingers dug into the middle of his arm. The pressure of her fingertips intensified as he moved the instrument closer.
“Ready,” she said.
He stabbed the instrument into her wound. She grimaced, but never yelled or whimpered. Her fingers dug deeper, finding the soft spot between his two forearm bones. Her grip was excruciating, much stronger than she appeared, but he never relented. He twisted the screw, turning and turning to drive the screw deeper into her chest. She dug her fingers deeper with every turn. Hesmiled the harder she dug.
Sylvia gritted her teeth, still silent and not yielding to the pain.
“You’re doing great,” Sebastian said. “Almost there.”
He turned and twisted until the screw found the target. He gave it a few more turns to dig into the silver ball. He pulled out the extractor, a silver ball now attached to the end.
Sylvia relaxed her grip and her teeth. She placed the rag on the wound. “Thank you,” she said through her labored breaths. She glared into his eyes, hers exhausted and red from the pain. “Why did you do this for me?”
Sebastian put the instrument back in the box. “Years ago, I was strolling through the city at night with my mother. We were followed. She tried not to panic as to not panic me. She hurried our pace, but a man stalked us. He was going to attack my mother when a creature of the night struck first. Its face was cloaked in shadows. I only knew what it was—a vampire. It saved us that night. I never found it again. As soon as I looked upon you and your wound, I knew what you were. It’s the least I could do to return the favor.”
“It’s a good thing that vampire saved you.”
“Was it you?”
“No. There are more of us.”
“Then consider my debt to the vampires repaid. Let’s see your wound.”
Sylvia removed the rag. The seeping stopped, and the wound healed over.
