One Fell Sweep
Page 64

Sean stepped in front of Arland, grabbed his arm, and hauled the Marshal to his feet.
“You stay in the armor, you die,” he said.
“Don’t die!” Helen yelled from the front room.
Maud slapped her hand over her face. “You can move, darling.”
Helen dashed into the room and hugged Arland’s leg. “Don’t die.”
A tremor gripped Arland’s body. He bit the air, as if trying to kill the pain.
Maud stepped close to him, their faces only inches apart. “I know,” she said, her voice strained. “I know. I’ve been there. The last thing you want is to be without armor now. You don’t want to be vulnerable. But you will die, my lord. I don’t want that to happen. Helen doesn’t want that to happen.”
Arland looked at Helen. She clung to his armored leg, her terrified eyes opened wide. “Don’t die.”
Arland swallowed and hit the crest on his chest. The armor fell off him.
“Medbay!” I ordered.
A tendril sprouted from the floor, wrapped around Arland and pulled him deeper into the inn. I followed. Helen took off after me, but Maud caught her.
“No.”
“But why?”
“Because he’s very proud. Stay here, Helen.”
I stepped into the medbay. Maud was only a step behind me. I sealed the doors behind us. The inn deposited Arland onto the metal examination table. I took a scalpel from the drawer and sliced through the black fabric of his jumpsuit.
Bloody blisters covered his entire body. Some had broken and viscous blood, tainted by something foul, leaked onto his skin. It smelled like vinegar and rot. I touched his skin. Too cold.
“What can we do?” I asked him.
“Nothing,” he said. “I live or I die.”
“There has to be something I can do.”
He sighed. “The last time, there was a bath. With star flower.”
“Mint,” Maud told me as if I didn’t know.
“It helped some.”
I opened a screen to the kitchen, making sure Arland was out of its view. Orro was deep-frying something on the stove.
“I need mint,” I said. “All of it. Everything we have.”
“We have two plants,” Orro said. He’d pitched a fit over fresh herbs not long after the summit was over, and I had created a hothouse, which we were slowly stocking with herbs.
“That’s not enough. Take all of the mint tea we have and brew the biggest pot of tea we can.”
He nodded. I closed the screen
Maud took Arland’s hand.
“No,” he said. “I don’t want you… to see me like this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Maud told him. “A pack of rassa couldn’t make me leave.”
“My lady…”
She put her fingers on his lips. “I’m staying.”
I took the handheld showerhead from the side of the bed, adjusted the water to warm, and washed the polluted blood off him.
He didn’t say a word. He just lay there. No strength to protest. No energy to be embarrassed. He lay there and held Maud’s hand.
We couldn’t lose Arland. We just couldn’t.
“I can’t feel a vigil room,” Maud said. “Do you have one?”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to make one. Off the kitchen.” She closed her eyes, concentrating.
Vampires treasured their families. The worst fate a vampire could imagine was dying alone. They fell in battle, surrounded by other vampires, or they died at home, watched over by their relatives and loved ones. Arland wouldn’t be alone. It was the least we could do.
“It needs to have a tub,” I told her.
She gave me a look that told me she wasn’t an idiot and closed her eyes again.
I felt the inn move as parts of it shifted in response to my sister’s will. There was a sluggish quality to its compliance, almost as if Gertrude Hunt hesitated before making the adjustments.
“Do what she asks,” I whispered, so quiet even I couldn’t hear it. It wasn’t an order or a demand. It was permission.
The inn moved faster.
Arland was still bleeding. The more I washed him off and patted his wounds dry, the more polluted blood seeped from the wounds. If I sealed the wounds, I would be trapping the rot and poison inside his body.
I looked at Maud. She took the showerhead from me and kept washing.
Arland’s breath slowed. His chest barely rose.
“Don’t let go,” Maud told him. “Hold on to me.”
He smiled at her. When Arland smiled, it was a declaration of war. It dazzled. There was vigor and power in it. There was no vigor in his smile now.
“Fight it.” Maud squeezed his hand.
“Everything is slowing down.” He raised his hand. It shook. Maud leaned to him. His fingertips brushed her cheek.
“No time,” he said.
“Fight it.” Desperation pulsated in her voice. “Live.”
He was dying. Arland was dying.
I felt a presence outside the door. Caldenia.
She knocked.
What could she possibly want right now? I draped a towel over Arland’s hips and opened the door. Her Grace stepped inside, carrying a small wooden box in her hands. She craned her neck and glanced at Arland. “Well. As prime a specimen as I remember from your wonderful excursion to the orchard.”
“I’m not dead yet,” Arland’s voice trembled. He was trying to snarl, but he didn’t have the strength. “You can’t eat me.”