Something had happened after that. It had been like people screaming and shoving her
from all directions, ripping at her, furious and terrified. Somewhere in the chaos
she had seen the witch.
He had brought her here.
He would help her.
But there was no one in the hallway to bring him to her.
Her chemise was more decent than many outfits modern girls wore, but Brina still stepped
gingerly into the hallway, wishing she had another option. Her bare feet were cold,
and she mentally added slippers to the list of things she wanted
as she put on a proud face and tried to pretend she didn’t feel frightened, hungry,
and half naked.
Most of the rooms she passed were occupied by sleeping people. Eventually, though,
she found a large room that might have once been a ballroom or a gymnasium. It had
been decorated for Christmas, but the unlit tree and bright decorations had been shoved
aside to make room for a makeshift sick ward. Effort had been made to keep the ill
comfortable, but blankets and pillows could not conceal their restless movements or
the stench of their sweat.
Nurses circled like buzzards picking at the ill.
The world rushed around Brina as she looked around, and the pounding of her heart
in her ears became louder and more rapid. There wasn’t enough air in this room, and
what air there was she couldn’t draw into her lungs fast enough. There were so many
here, coughing and gasping and calling for help.
She didn’t want to faint again. She fought against it; her knuckles went white as
she gripped the doorframe, struggling to stay standing.
“Can I help you?” someone asked, taking her arm.
Brina shook her head, and at the same time she asked, “What is this plague?”
The human winced, and said, “It’s the
flu
. We think it may even be the one this year’s flu shot protects against, since none
of the humans have it.” As she spoke, she touched Brina’s brow and the back of her
neck. “How do you feel?”
“Cold,” Brina admitted. “Horrified. There are so many.”
“I know it’s normally considered rude to ask at SingleEarth, but … what are you?”
Brina blinked at her, startled. “I’m … not sure right now.”
“Not sure?”
“I imagine that’s why I was brought here.”
“Then you could be at risk,” the nurse said. “If you’re not already ill, you shouldn’t
be here. You’ll be exposed.”
“I’ve had the plague before,” Brina whispered.
“Then maybe you’re—” The human broke off, frowned, and finally asked, “I’m sorry,
are you a resident here?”
Brina wasn’t listening anymore. She needed to see what was happening.
She followed meandering paths through the sick, taking note of all the colors around
her. Onyx hair, fair skin, and eyes like emeralds. It wasn’t the fever that made the
skin seem pearlescent and the eyes that tracked her movement with dazed hope look
like polished gems; it was the distinctive coloration of a serpent shapeshifter. At
another pallet, she glimpsed feathers beneath the sweat-matted hair of a young boy
whose brown hair and hazel eyes suggested he was probably a sparrow. Next, a mane
of rich auburn, shorn short—a fox, a rare breed to find out of their enclave.
Brina had hundreds of years of practice; she knew how to recognize an individual’s
breed and state of health at sight. She wouldn’t have paid a pence for any of these
pitiful creatures if they had been human, and since they weren’t, they shouldn’t have
been in this condition. Only magic could do this to the nonhuman.
At the next bed, she found a young woman who was kneeling to tend the sick. Her head
was bowed and her hands were splayed in front of her on the floor, as if that was
all that was keeping her from toppling over on top of the unconscious shapeshifter
in front of her.
“Whose spell is it?” Brina asked.
“Spell?” the kneeling girl echoed, without seeming to comprehend.
Brina resisted the urge to kick the girl to get her attention, but only because doing
so would probably knock her over. Instead, she said as clearly as possible, “Yes,
spell. They cannot just be
sick
.”
Saying the word drove another chill through her, brought a memory of a wailing baby.
She pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time.
There is no good time to remember that day
.
“They
are
sick,” the girl snapped in response. She shoved herself to her feet, only to stumble
and nearly fall. Brina jumped back, narrowly eluding the woman’s fever-hot hands as
she sought some way to balance herself.
The would-be healer glared at Brina with blue eyes that then widened as she said,
“Brina.” Before Brina could correct her, the girl said, “Lady Brina. Whatever you
call yourself. You should be sleeping. I put you to sleep. Used my power.”
“You do not look like you have the power to put a mouse to sleep,” Brina observed.
The girl must have fancied herself a witch, one of those who supposedly ran this SingleEarth
place. “Tell me what has happened to me, and what has happened
here, before you faint.” The girl’s face was already pale, and her lips had that cerulean
hue that suggested unconsciousness was imminent.
“Caryn, you shouldn’t be up,” another voice said. Brina bristled as a young man pushed
his way past her, jostling her without apology as he hurried to take the sick witch
into his arms.
“I need to
do
something,” the girl responded.
“Your fever is back,” the solicitous young man said.
“Can’t focus my magic,” Caryn whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Some of the shapeshifters are responding to human medication. I know you said these
medications don’t normally do anything for your kind, but you’re going to try.”
She nodded, but then added, “Only treats the symptoms.”
“The symptoms are boiling your brain,” Brina interjected. “You need a witch.”
“I
am
a witch!” the girl snapped, showing previously unseen spirit.
“You’re a useless witch,” Brina replied.
“Who are
you
?” the boy demanded.
“I am Lady Brina di’Birgetta,” she replied, drawing up to her full height. “In the
last day, I have had my property stolen and been assaulted in my own home, and now
I’ve been abducted and brought to this plague ward against my will. I have been as
patient as I intend to be, and now I demand to know what is going on.”
The boy just stared at her.
“Are you simple?” she asked.
“She’s a vampire,” the little witch whispered to him. “Or was. Jay brought her in.”
“Jay,” the boy answered, shaking his head. “He—” He broke off, his face going pale
as he asked slowly, “May I ask what century?”
“Not the time for historical curiosity,” Caryn chastised him.
“When were you changed? Please, um, my lady. It may help me answer your questions.”
“The year 1665,” Brina answered. How was that relevant?
After drawing a deep breath, he asked, “Europe?”
“Italy.”
“Nurse!” Brina jumped as the young man raised his voice to call to yet another man
across the room. “We need to get her quarantined and onto antibiotics. The flu is
bad enough in a population without a single antibody. I don’t know what happens when
a vampire turns human, and I don’t want to test it. From that era, you could be carrying
the goddamned bubonic plague.”
Brina wasn’t listening any longer, not since he had said the word
quarantine
.
Deaf to anything but the heartbeat in her ears, she slammed an elbow into the stomach
of the first nurse stupid enough to touch her. The doctor had lied to her, had told
her he could help her, just to get the information he would use to imprison her.
She fought tooth and nail, but she was
weak
. Pathetic.
Human doctors and nurses swarmed, irreverent and immoral, intent on trapping her again,
confining her with the dead and dying—
She twisted her head with a snarl as she felt a sharp pinch in the meat of her arm.
She looked just in time to see the needle in her flesh. Her previous weakness was
nothing compared to the way her body now seemed to collapse, her innards folding into
origami. Flowers and paper cranes, made of swirling colors and fancy lights.
Foolish girl
, something whispered to her as she sank into a drugged sleep.
Even more frightened of life than you are of dying. I should hate you … but I suppose
I must credit you with hiding my child away, when the hunters would have murdered
her. You gave me time. So I will give you time
.
Time for what?
Brina tried to ask. But the words wouldn’t form.
A
S HE DROVE
, the pain that Jay could sense coming from Rikai gradually built, until it was taking
all his concentration to ignore it and focus on the slick roads. She hadn’t said a
word or uttered as much as a grunt, but a few miles out from SingleEarth, Jay couldn’t
stand it anymore.
“What is
wrong
with you?” he demanded.
“That remains to be seen,” she replied, voice perfectly level. All Jay knew about
Triste magic was that it relied on total control of mind and body, regardless of pain
or other physical ailments. That made it doubly concerning when Rikai’s next words—“We
need to …”—faded out, replaced by a sharp hitch of breath. “Let me know when we arrive.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her rest her head on
her hands on the window. He resisted the urge to drive faster, knowing that a patch
of ice and a car accident could kill him just as surely as magical influences.
Why wouldn’t she
talk
to him? Was her pain related to what had happened to Brina?
His questions about Rikai were pushed aside by more pressing concerns as he reached
SingleEarth and discovered that the parking lot was overflowing. Cars were parked
wherever they could find space, many blocking others in.
“Looks like they’re having a party,” he said, feigning levity to cover his rising
anxiety. “We’re going to have to hike a bit.” Jay stopped the car as close as he could
get to the main building.
For the first time in hours, he got a good look at Rikai. Her face was pale and there
were shadows under her eyes. More disturbing were the ropy scars he could see trailing
out from her shirt cuffs to cover her hands. Another was starting to emerge from beneath
her high collar, snaking up the left side of her throat to her temple.
He clenched his jaw against the echo of her pain and walked around the car to open
her door. Rikai glared at him, as if she wanted to refuse his help, but then she reached
up and took his arm. She leaned on him heavily as they began an agonizingly long walk
to the door.
Halfway there, Lynx came bounding across the snow, his tufted ears back as if he had
scented something foul.
What happened here?
Jay asked.
Stinks like something spoiled
, Lynx answered.
Stay out here
.
I need to go in to find out what happened
.
Lynx hissed, and refused to follow as Jay and Rikai approached the threshold of SingleEarth
Haven #2.
“What the hell?” Jay whispered as he stepped inside and discovered that the reception
area had been turned into a triage unit. Nurses and volunteers were scampering among
patients who had been laid out on blankets, towels, even yoga mats, while other workers
made hushed phone calls desperately calling for more doctors. Though they struggled
to appear professional, the panicky fear rising from the staff left a bitter taste
on Jay’s tongue.
One of them glanced up, barely seemed to register his presence, and said, “Sign her
in at the front desk. We’re trying to find space for everyone.”
“I need to put you down,” Jay said, warning Rikai but not asking her permission as
he dropped the Triste and knelt next to the nearest patient. Rikai stumbled before
she found her balance, but at that moment, Jay couldn’t have cared less if she fell.
The patient had previously been a receptionist at this haven. Jay couldn’t recall
her name, but he knew she was a leopard shapeshifter. She shouldn’t have been able
to get sick, but the moment he touched her, he could feel the illness racing through
her.
“Jay.” He looked up when Jeremy whispered his name. “You shouldn’t be here. The shapeshifters
are getting it worst, but witches aren’t”—
Oh, god, how did I let her get that bad before I noticed?
—“aren’t immune.” Jeremy’s voice hitched in the middle, and Jay’s heart leapt into
his throat at the image that came
along with the human’s hesitation: Caryn fainting, her fever 102 degrees and climbing.
“Caryn’s sick?”
Jeremy nodded. “Her mother and aunt, too.”
“Vireo?”
“Not as bad as some of the others, but he started sniffling a couple hours ago. How
are you feeling?” Jeremy reached forward as he spoke, but Jay was barely aware of
the human touching his brow and taking his pulse. “You’re chilled.”
“We had to walk in the snow to get here,” Jay snapped, jerking back. “Where’s my brother?”
“He went with a busload of patients to Center Number Twelve,” Jeremy answered. “They
have more resources, so those well enough to travel have moved. Caryn’s still here,”
he added, a note of desperation breaking into his voice as he fought an internal battle
with himself.
If he tries to help, he could get sick. He
needs
to help. I can’t ask it of him
.
“Where is she?” Jay asked.
Jeremy didn’t have the willpower to say any of the sensible things he knew he should
say as a doctor, and that was good, because Jay didn’t have patience for an argument.
He was already trembling as they entered Caryn’s room and he caught the first reek
of fever-sweat.
Caryn’s eyes opened but didn’t focus. She was flushed, and her hair was matted.
“Jay?” she asked. Her voice was hoarse. “No, stay back. You’ll catch it.”