Excerpt: How to Make a Killing in the Stock Market

Devon came barrelling out of the store, shouting into his cell phone. Those big feet and long legs covered the ground between the front door of the store and me in the blink of an eye. “There's a man and he's outside our store and he's bleeding!” I could hear him explain to the operator, but my attention was riveted on the man I was trying to keep awake. Devon's voice was a high-pitched drone at the back of my mind as I looked down at the wound. There were fresh trickles over the backs of my hands, between my fingers, a deep rich red against my pale skin. I pulled the hideous smock over my head, and tried to use it as a compress to help stop the bleeding, bunching it around that short silver hilt even as Joel groaned feebly.
I could feel the muscles under my hand start to weaken, to go slack. “No, no, no, you stay awake and look at me!” I yelled, trying to give Joel a shake. He groaned, and I let out a deep breath as I tried to keep those eyes open just a little while longer. “Who did this to you? Joel, tell me what happened!”
I could feel him draw a breath, and I leaned in close to listen as his lips moved. I missed it, and I pulled a face as I shifted around to get closer to his mouth, to try and hear him, my ears straining as I tried to block out the other noises of the city.
“The cops are coming!” Devon exclaimed, his voice cracking as he snapped his cell phone shut. “Oh man, is he really hurt? They said they'd send an ambulance too, and – oh God, is that... is that blood?”
“Shut up!” I barked over my shoulder, then leaned in so close that Joel's lips were all but against my ear. They were cold, and I knew that my attempts to stop the bleeding weren't going to be enough. I could hear Devon retching in the background. The poor kid could barely look at a medical textbook when he was unpacking our shipments, a source of constant amusement for all the employees. It was no wonder that even the sight or the faint metallic scent of blood would bring him to his knees, throwing up in the gutter.
“Joel, who did this to you?” I asked again, practically shouting in the man's ear.
I could hear the faint wheedling of the sirens in the distance. Maybe they were even closer than that, I couldn't trust myself at that moment. My nerves jangled with the adrenaline burning through me, and I could feel my pulse hammering in my temples as I caught the last two words Joel ever breathed.
“... I did,” was what he whispered.