Jenny Greenteeth and the Dark Dugald were both flesh eaters, and both were frightening and powerful members of the Elder Fae. Singular, terrifyingly powerful Fae, the Elder Fae were older than even the great Fae Lords. That this particular pair had decided to get their groove on and breed was both a sickening and frightening thought.
Jenny Greenteeth was similar to a kelpie, and far more dangerous. The Dark Dugald was the leader of the barguests—the Black Angus dogs, which were a lot like hellhounds. And according to what we knew, the Dark Dugald was a hellion and considered worse than a number of demons.
“Lovely. So now we have to track them down and get rid of them. We can’t let them just camp out and prey on anybody wandering by, and if they are flesh eaters, you know they won’t limit themselves to Supes. They’ll go after FBHs, if they haven’t already.” I wanted to get up and chase after them, but when I tried, both Camille and Aswala pushed me down again.
“You aren’t going anywhere for another hour or two, until we make sure you’re stable. You seem to be responding well to the antivenin treatment, and the healing magic. If you are feeling better in a few hours, then we’ll let you go home, but you have to go right to bed when you get there. No running around till tomorrow afternoon, and absolutely no fighting for a day or two. If you can’t promise, we won’t let you out.”
I restrained a snort. “Sure, no problem.”
Aswala leaned down to whisper in my ear. “We’re going to make sure your sister and friends know about this so they can haul your ass back in here if you break your promise. Got it?”
Startled by her take-no-prisoners attitude, I stammered a “yes” as she gave me another shot of something and took Camille off to the side. I had the feeling Camille was getting an earful of Aswala’s orders.
After she finished, I motioned to Camille. “What about Iris?”
“She was still in labor when we left. She probably has a while to go before the babies are born. I imagine we’ll be home before then.”
“Where’s Shade?” I looked around, wanting my fiancé. My lover anchored me. Over the months I’d learned a lot about strength and self-acceptance from him.
“Remember? He stayed home to hunt down Bruce, who apparently wasn’t around when Iris went into labor, and I gather it took longer than he expected. Bruce is never going to live that one down.” Camille let out a laugh. “Smoky will be back to get us the moment he gets my call.”
A few other memories began to phase back in that had been lost in the sudden onslaught of fever. I shot straight up. “Menolly! The Wayfarer!”
Camille hung her head. “She called half an hour ago. I won’t lie—it’s bad. They extinguished most of the flames, but the place is still smoldering. We won’t know till morning how badly the bar was damaged, but it’s not good. Menolly didn’t have much to say. She’ll be here soon, though. Chrysandra’s fighting for her life, and so are several others—customers who were caught in the flames. We may never know how many vampires died—they would have been dusted by the flames if they were caught.”
This time, I laid back down without being shoved. Chrysandra had been with the Wayfarer for years. She was there when Menolly took over and had helped her during the transition. She was easily the best waitress at the bar and she and Menolly had become friends.
“You don’t think . . .” I didn’t want to verbalize what was going on in my mind and I hoped Camille would understand what I was asking without me having to spell it out.
Her thoughts must have been running in the same direction because she sucked in a deep breath. “I know what you’re thinking. I hope to hell Menolly doesn’t decide to sire her.”
“How close . . . how bad . . . is she . . .”
“Chrysandra’s dying. There’s no chance for her to pull through, and Menolly doesn’t know that yet. I plan on being there when Menolly walks in to check on her. Maybe I can stop her, if her instincts get the better of her.” Camille glanced up at the clock. “Speaking of, I guess I should go wait for her. You rest. And by the way, Kitten . . .”
“Yes?” I stared at her defiantly, knowing what she was going to say.
“Aswala told me what she told you. Don’t you dare think of trying anything exerting for the next few days. Though, your hand is going to be hurting so I doubt you’ll be able to do more than bitch and moan.”
She sounded all too gleeful and I waved her out with my left hand. When she was gone, I looked down at my right hand. It was swathed in bandages, but at least it was still there. Necrotic bites could so easily cause gangrene, and I had movement and feeling in my fingers—all too much for comfort.
I shrugged, then flipped on the television, bored. The news was on and they were showing clips of the Wayfarer, engulfed in flames. I caught my breath, staring at the brilliant tongues of fire licking the building. Luckily, the shops next to it had been spared, but I had a sick feeling that morning wasn’t going to see more than a pile of rubble where the bar used to be.
Wincing at the announcer’s flippant tone, I changed stations until I found a nice, brainless rerun of Jerry Springer. I knew it was trash, and Camille and Menolly constantly teased me about it, but the truth was that I was a total fan girl and was crushing hard on the dude.
For some reason, he tripped my trigger and I fantasized getting locked overnight in a supermarket with him, and meeting in the junk food aisle where he’d drag me to the ground and fuck me like hungry bunnies.
By the time the “Shocking Family Secrets” episode was over, I was beginning to worry. Camille wasn’t back yet and I hoped to hell there wasn’t a crisis going on in Chrysandra’s room. Since Aswala wasn’t around to stop me, I pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. A wave of dizziness and nausea hit me, but I pushed it down and headed slowly for the door, making sure my gown was firmly tied shut. An IV was in stuck in my arm, but it was hanging on one of those poles and I was able to roll it along with me.
The way was clear as I peeked out into the hallway, and I scurried out, holding onto the wall with one hand while I rolled alongside my drip-bag buddy. As I passed each open door, I glanced in—there weren’t that many rooms in the medic unit and Chrysandra had to be here somewhere.
I was about to run out of hallway when I saw her—in the ER at the end of the corridor. The doors were closed but I was tall enough to see a group of healers next to Menolly and Camille through the windows. They were gathered around a bed that appeared to be cordoned off behind clear plastic curtains. One of the healers looked engrossed in casting a spell, another worked furiously at some machine to which she was hooked up.
I pushed through the doors and Camille turned, letting out a little noise. Menolly’s back was turned to the wall and her shoulders were shaking.
“Don’t even say it.” I moved over to her side and turned to look at Chrysandra. “Oh Great Mother . . .”
Encased by what was—for all intents and purposes—a plastic bubble, Chrysandra looked like she’d been spitted and roasted over a bonfire. Any resemblance to who she had been was gone, the skin largely burned away to reveal raw muscle and sinew covered in blisters and remnants of blackened skin. Her hair was gone. She was on a ventilator and a host of tubes were feeding meds and liquids into her. But what struck me as most horrific was that her eyelids and lips had been incinerated. She was so still, I thought she must have passed out.
I stared, unable to look away, then hung my head, the pain in my hand receding as I focused on my feet. I wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. I wanted to help but there wasn’t anything I could do.