“Dad! No!”
He aimed the blade at his throat, but Hank threw himself on him and managed to get the knife away from the neck. Unfortunately, it slid down Demetrius' chest, leaving a gash quickly filling with blood. Hank rolled over to his side. “Dad, what are you doing?”
Demetrius glared at him and with the knife still in his hand he slashed his left arm. A roar filled Hank’s head. He grabbed Demetrius's wrist and a moment later Steel was by his side, bending Demetrius's fingers open.
Hank took the knife and threw it overboard.
“What the hell were you thinking, Dad?” Hank was shouting without meaning to, his hands were shaking, and he feared he would be sick. A puddle of an inky liquid spread around Demetrius where he was lying on the deck.
Steel had his wits about him and applied pressure on the wounds. A few seconds later, Hank helped.
“You’d probably want to land and take him to a doctor.”
Hank glared at the Yule Father. “You think so?”