“Please don’t,” I said. “I don’t want Shelby to be that mad at me.”

To my surprise, Riley actually laughed. “Believe me, son, neither do I, and under the circumstances, I’d probably wind up stuck haunting the place. I won’t swallow my gun. Besides, the way I’m bleeding, it may be a moot point.”

Bleeding. Shit. “Are there medical supplies in here? There must be, you told me that there were. Where are they?”

“We don’t know—”

“I know how to check the seal on a package of gauze. We can stop the bleeding, even if we can’t trust any of the medications. As long as you keep an eye on the lights and shout if anything changes, I should be safe to go and come back.”

“And if there’s another werewolf out there, just waiting for you to split the party?” The look Riley gave me was calculating and calm. “How do I explain your corpse to Shelby?”

“I could ask you the same question, you know.” I shrugged. “Someone’s explaining something either way, and I’d rather be able to at least say I tried to make sure you could attend our wedding. Now, which way do I go to find the first aid?”

Riley raised a hand—which was shaking slightly; the blood loss was getting to him, even if he was struggling not to show it—and pointed down the row of shelves to my left. “Go six shelves that way, make a right, and you won’t be able to miss what you’re looking for.”

“Good.” I stepped close enough to put my box of silver bullets down at the edge of the spreading bloodstain. “Reload, and be ready.” Then I turned and took off running, heading in the direction Riley had indicated.

The Thirty-Six Society took their stockpiling very seriously. I swung around the corner six shelves in, and found myself confronted by three racks of nothing but gauze, bandages, antiseptics of various kinds, suture kits, and other basic first aid supplies. Even if our werewolf or werewolves had been sabotaging the place, they couldn’t possibly have damaged as much as was in front of me. I began quickly grabbing things off the shelves, checking to be sure that their seals and packaging were intact, and then moving on to the next item I thought I might need. In the end, I had several rolls of gauze, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a suture kit—for Helen, not for me, as there was only so much I was willing to do in the name of saving Shelby’s father—and a box of latex gloves. I spared one last glance at the overhead lights, confirming that they hadn’t changed, and then went running back.

Riley was still sitting up in the same position when I raced into view. He lifted his head, eyes gone dull and tired, and said, “Took you long enough. What, did you have to run back to America for just the right brand of cotton ball?”

“I still beat Shelby and the others back,” I said, walking to the edge of the bloody puddle and kneeling. I rolled the hydrogen peroxide toward him. Let it get covered in blood. It wasn’t like he presented a biohazard to himself. “Uncap this and pour it over your wound. We want to try flushing it out as much as we can.”

“What, I didn’t die passively, so now you’re actively trying to kill me?” asked Riley, brows rising.

I shook my head. “The hydrogen peroxide won’t hurt you, it will flush the wound. It’s not antiviral, but it will still remove at least some of the virus that hasn’t entered your body yet. Please, work with me here.” I opened the box of gloves, pulling out a pair.

“I haven’t given you much reason to want to work with me,” said Riley, uncapping the bottle. He sniffed its contents once, suspiciously, before upending it over his injured arm. “Damn, that stings,” he said, clenching his teeth. The hydrogen peroxide bubbled and foamed as it came into contact with the blood.

“Good,” I said. “Now take off your shirt.”

Riley gave me a flat look.

“I need to see the wound if I’m going to stop the bleeding.” I held up a roll of gauze. “Shirt. Off. I’m not going to do anything Dr. Jalali will object to when she gets here, I promise. You get to keep your arm, and you’ll have some fun scars to show off a year from now.”

“Assuming I’m not big, hairy, and dead by then,” said Riley, his gaze drifting back to the dead werewolf. He hauled his bloody shirt off over his head, revealing a torso that was ridged with the lines of scars both old and long-healed and relatively new. The wound on his arm stood out red and angry against the rest. “Are you seriously planning to marry my daughter?”

“As long as she’ll have me, yes,” I said. I walked over to crouch beside him, careful not to lose my balance. “Lift your arm. I need to get this tied off.”

Riley obliged. Blood loss must have been making him suggestible. “She’s always been my favorite, you know. A man tries not to play favorites with his kids, but it just can’t be helped, and Shelly . . . ah, she was special from the start. Jack was my friend, but she was my angel. I didn’t like her leaving. I certainly didn’t like her coming back with a man from a Covenant family.”

“Sorry,” I said. Wrapping a werewolf bite was a lot like wrapping a snakebite, only larger. I wanted to cut off the bleeding without trapping any venom—or werewolf saliva, as the case might be—inside the wound. I focused on that, rather than looking at Riley’s face. “And I’m not from a Covenant family. We quit generations ago.”

“Ah, not your fault.” Riley shifted positions slightly, making it easier for me to get at his arm. “I’m never going to like you. We’re not the sort of men who get along. You probably won’t like me either, once you’re safely married to my daughter and allowed to admit it to yourself.”

“Believe me, sir, I have no trouble admitting that I don’t like you right this second. I don’t need to be married to Shelby to tell you that I don’t care for the way you’ve behaved toward me, or your attitude toward sapient cryptids. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand.” I tied off the gauze and sat back on my haunches. “I also understand about playing favorites, and not wanting to let the people you love out of your sight.”

“That’s not going to stop you taking her away from me.”

I raised my head and looked at him solemnly before I went back to applying more gauze to his arm. “That’s because I’m not taking her away from you. Shelby’s a grown woman. She makes her own choices. I’m lucky in that she’s choosing to spend at least part of her life with me, and I’m going to do my best to make it the rest of her life—and before you say something about my getting her killed, I’d like to note that I’ll be working with her to make that life as long as possible. I never thought I’d meet a woman like her, and I’m not stupid. I’m not going to gamble with her heart, because there’s no guarantee I’ll ever get this lucky again.”