C.E. Murphy - Heart of Stone

“You look happy about it.”

Daisani beamed. “Challenges, Miss Knight, are as rare as women like you. I’ll win in the end, of course, but it’s positively inspiring to have someone put up a fight. In fact, that’s why I’ve come.”

“Out of inspiration?” Margrit laughed almost silently, pleased all over that it didn’t hurt. Daisani smiled broadly, showing unnervingly normal teeth again.

“Precisely. I so hate to see a worthy opponent at anything less than her peak, I’m inspired to action.” He smiled once more, extending his hand. “Let me help you sit up, Margrit. I have a gift for you.”

Panic seized her stomach yet again and she felt color burn in her cheeks. Daisani laughed. “Not that sort of gift. Hasn’t Alban told you? It doesn’t work that way.”

“Thank God,” she said with feeling.

Daisani chuckled again, helping her to sit up before brushing a fingertip across his exposed inner wrist. “But you are right about one thing,” he murmured. “The gift is blood.” He caressed his wrist again, and a thin red line opened. Margrit stared at him in revulsion, and he clucked his tongue, waving a finger at her in gentle admonition. “One sip for healing. This is a gift, Miss Knight, not a favor to be repaid. One sip.”

Margrit watched blood bead as Daisani turned his wrist up to catch it there. “And two sips?”

He smiled. “Taste, and I’ll tell you.” He moved his wrist to her mouth, brushing liquid across her lips. Margrit licked automatically, then startled and gagged, swallowing down blood that was sweeter than her own, tangy iron drowned by a thick sugary taste. Daisani turned his wrist up again, the cut sealing over. “One sip for healing,” he said, folding his cuff back down. “Two for life.” He met her eyes and smiled again. “Three to kill.”

Margrit’s heart rate leaped, blood rushing to her face, making her wounds and bruises ache badly enough to bring tears to her eyes, in spite of the morphine. She wet her lips again, whispering, “Yeah?” through the pounding in her head. A strengthening surge of blood poured into her left arm, making the bone and muscles there throb, too. “Is this tasting an accumulative thing, or does it start over after a while?”

“Three strikes,” Daisani said, “and you’re out. I do look forward to meeting you again, Miss Knight. I’ll see myself out. Don’t get up.” Smiling, he rose and left Margrit behind, pain beating at her skin as if it was trying to escape.

“Grit?” Her name was spoken softly, unlikely to disturb her if she wasn’t drifting on the wakeful side of sleep. Margrit inhaled and opened her eyes to find Cole at the edge of her bed, wearing a tentative smile.

“Ah.” She let her eyes close again. “If it isn’t my roommate the dickhead. Hello, Cole.” She flexed her toes, then her arches and upward, carefully bringing each muscle group into play. It only became extraordinary when she twitched the fingers of her left hand and they moved easily, no stab of pain where the bone had broken. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Since yesterday afternoon. Cam, your parents and I have been taking turns keeping an eye on you. Grit, I’m sorry. I felt like an asshole immediately, and then with you being attacked…”

Margrit turned her head to look at her dark-haired housemate, and sighed. “You were an asshole. Don’t get me wrong. I think you should grovel a lot, and probably fix me gourmet meals for a few weeks. But, um.” She mashed her lips together and glanced down. “I was out of line, too. You were worried and I…look, I’m sorry, too, okay? Maybe we should just call it even.”

“Sounds good to me.” Cole leaned over to kiss her forehead, then pulled her into a careful hug. “I really am sorry, Grit.”

“I know.” Margrit sighed and curled her fingers into his sweater, eyes closing again. “Man, I’m tired. When are they letting me out of here?”

“I don’t know. You look a hell of a lot better, Grit. The doctors have been muttering to each other about how fast you’re healing. They keep checking your charts, like they made a mistake with the initial diagnosis.”

“Maybe they did. I’m feeling pretty good.” The latter part, at least, was truth. There would be no explaining the gift Daisani had shared with her, not now and not ever. “Are my parents still here?”

“Yeah. They went down to get some lunch. You want me to get them?”

“That’d be great.” Margrit slid deeper into the pillows. “And tell the doctors I’d like to go home, please.”

Janx came as she pulled her shoes on the next morning under a nurse’s watchful glare. He leaned in the door, red hair more fiery in the sunlight that streamed through the windows, and watched her admiringly. “I didn’t think you’d be up so soon.”

Margrit looked up, then waved the nurse out of the room as she pushed her foot into her shoe with a thump. “Apparently I’m a very fast healer. Are any of you not going to come see me?”

“I thought you’d be happier if I kept Malik away,” Janx said merrily. “You’re looking well, Margrit. You don’t mind if I just call you Margrit now, do you? I think I’ve earned the intimacy, since you’ve successfully pulled one over on me.”

Margrit’s heart went still for a beat. “I have?”

“Please. Who else could have managed to get access to that number? Fortunately for me, the phone I called him from is owned by some poor bastard in Ohio. I imagine he was a little dismayed when the police broke down his door at two in the morning. But I must say, well done, really. I didn’t even suspect. You appear to have all the guile of an ingenue, Margrit, hiding the consummate acting skills of an old dame of the theater. Are you a very good lawyer?” he asked politely, then dismissed the question by following it with, “I’ve brought you a gift.”

Margrit straightened up, shifting her sling against her body. “I’m not sure I need or want any more presents from you people.”

Janx laughed and sauntered forward to put a cell phone in her hand. “This one is purely recompense for ruining your other one. I’ve even gotten you the same number. Now, aren’t I splendid?”

Despite herself, despite knowing what the man was, Margrit laughed. “You are,” she admitted. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He narrowed jade-green eyes at her. “There is a point of business, I’m afraid.”

Margrit sighed. “Of course there is. What is it?”

“There’s still the matter of favors owed,” he said. “Two from you.”

“And one from you. I know, Janx. Just because it hasn’t been called in yet doesn’t mean it’s over.” Margrit arched her eyebrows at the dragon. “You should remember that, too. Someday I’ll need that third request.”

Janx bowed from the waist. “And I’ll be delighted to honor it. You’re a worthy opponent, Margrit Knight. It’s wonderful to have you in the game.” He clapped his hands together, a sharp pleased sound. “Now, I believe they won’t let even the most fit of persons walk out of one of these death traps under her own power. May I have the honor of wheeling your chair?”

“I don’t think so,” Cole said from the doorway. He came in to kiss Margrit’s uninjured cheek and examine her critically. “You look almost normal. I’m afraid I’m the lady’s wheels, Mr…?” He offered a hand to Janx.

The dragon arched an eyebrow, then shook it. “Janx,” he said. “Just Janx. You must be Cole.”

Cole cast a startled glance at Margrit. “Yeah, I am.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Cole. Do us all a favor, and take good care of this young lady. She’s more remarkable than she knows.” Janx bowed again, then exited, leaving Cole staring after him with raised eyebrows.