Laurell Hamilton - 16 Blood Noir

I picked a wound in his arm that seemed to be bleeding more than the rest, pressed a rag against it, and started trying to tie it in place. His arm was so limp that I had to trap his lower arm between my knees to get the knot tight enough to put pressure. But not too tight. I couldnt remember, could lycanthropes suffer from getting their circulation cut off? I mean, if you could grow back a limb, then would too tight a bandage hurt you? I treated him like he was human, because I didnt know. It had never come up.

It was when I was tying a wound on his thigh that I saw the first burn marks. Tiny, roundish burn marks on his thigh. More of them on the hip, and finally most of them on the groin. How had I missed these? They were smaller, less obvious than the bloody wounds, I guess. I knew I was in shock. I knew that. Shock softens things. It helps you see things in pieces sometimes; a little horror here, a little more when your mind thinks you can handle it. Shock, if you dont go too far, helps you cope. I knew what had caused him to scream now. Burns didnt heal on a lycanthrope like everything else. Burns had to heal human-slow.

I found more of the little burns all over the front of his body. The back of his body was untouched because hed been tied on his back. To bind the wounds on his chest, I had to lift him, and he was still just dead weight. I should have seen the wounds beginning to heal by now. They looked the same. I knew in reason that hed healed from the first moment Id seen him. I knew that the shift to wolf form had helped him heal, because he wasnt bleeding as badly as that carpetbut he wasnt healing as fast as I was used to seeing lycanthropes heal. I didnt know if Jason was simply a slow healer, or if there had been that much damage, or if the vampires had done something to the wounds to make them worse.

When Id bound all the wounds I could figure out how to bind, I lay down beside Jason, with me propped up on the pillows, and rolled him against my body. I held him against me, and I prayed, prayed with that energy that true tragedy gives you. The loudest prayers must be when you hold someone you love and feel him go cold.

I knew warmth was important to healing lycanthropes. Cold was bad, that much I knew. My body heat was all I could think of. I got the gun out of my belt and laid it on the pillow beside me. Id done everything I could think of; now we waited for help to arrive. Waited and prayed.

Jason didnt feel like Jason in my arms. The washrags and sheet strips were rough and ruined the smooth feel of his body. My clothes were drying to my skin sticky with his blood. I should have taken them off before I lay down, so that Jason could be closer to my skin, but it had seemed to take so much effort to get him against me. I lay there, too tired, too shocky to move.

Why? Why had they tortured him? Why had they taken us? I remembered the man yelling, Wheres Lorna? We didnt know anyone named Lorna, or I didnt. Who the hell was she? I was betting that this had nothing to do with Jason, and everything to do with the Summerlands. Had Jason taken another beating for Keith Summerland? Was it that simple, or was something else going on that I didnt know anything about? In that moment, holding Jason, feeling his blood drying my clothes to my skin, I was willing to believe there were lots of things I didnt know.

I heard the door open. The outside door, because I heard the screen hit. Whoever it was, hesitated in the hallway. Theyd seen the body. If it was the rescue crew theyd have called out.

I picked up the gun. The safety was already off, a round already chambered. Id done that before I laid the gun down beside me. If anyone came through that door before the EMTs, they would not be my friend.

I sighted at the doorway and let out my breath. I let my body go quiet, and the gun was the focus of all that quiet. If Jason had moved in that moment Id probably have screamed.

A mans voice called from down the hallway. I hear your heartbeats. I smell his blood. I see my men are dead, so I assume you have at least one of their guns. Mr. Summerland, I didnt think you had it in you to be this dangerous.

I didnt say anything. If I was quiet enough, he might come closer for a look. If he came close enough Id shoot him.

Mr. Summerland, why dont you answer me? If you would simply tell us where Lorna is, then we would let you go. We have no wish to harm the son of a governor.

He was lying.

Mr. Summerland, he said again, are you in there? Why dont you answer me?

I could smell dawn on the air. Not here yet, but close. I wanted to know if this was a vampire, but if I used my necromancy to sense him, hed know what I was. I think they had thought I was just another of Keith Summerlands women. Its why they had left me in the bathroom, with no guard. Its why this one was assuming that Keith Summerland had gotten away somehow and killed the two vampires. This guy was assuming that because I was a woman I wasnt dangerous. Was it time to let the last man standing know that hed made a mistake?

Mr. Summerland? His voice sounded a little closer. Did I wait for him to maybe get close enough for a shot, or did I try to get some answers?

Dawn was so close. If he was a vampire hed been running out of moonlight, literally. If he was human it didnt matter. I decided to try for information.

Why would you think Lorna would be with him?

Oh, the girl. He sounded genuinely surprised.

Yeah, I said, the girl.

Do you know where Lorna is? he asked, and there was a hopeful lilt to his voice.

After what you did to my boyfriend and me, I dont think I want to answer any of your questions.

We were harsh, and I am sorry for that. Genuinely sorry.

Liar, I said.

What is your name? he asked.

You first, I said.

They call me George.

I want to know your name, not what they call you.

He laughed then, and he was good. It was a nice laugh, as if he werent standing in a hallway staring at the dead bodies of men hed hired to kidnap and torture us. Of course, maybe he was just a charming sociopath. In that case the laugh was real. When you have no empathy for anyone else, other people dead or hurt dont mean anything to you.

Edmond, my name is Edmond. What is your name?

I decided to try lying. Katerine. It was my middle name.

Now whos lying? he said, and he made it sound playful.

Fine. Anita, my names Anita.

Anita, now that is a lovely name.

What happens if you dont find Lorna? I asked.

He was quiet for a second or two, then said, Her husband will not be pleased.

So, you find her and youre going to force her to go back to him?

He is her husband and her master.

Master, that was an interesting choice of words. Was Lorna the wife of the Master of the City Peterson had told me about? He your master, too, Edmond?

He trusted me with this errand.

Yes, then, I said.

You do not speak like one of Keith Summerlands bimbos.

Is Lorna a bimbo?

I would never call my masters wife such a thing.

Then why did she think she could leave her master and husband and go off with Keith? Doesnt sound very bright.

He looks too much like her long-lost love. She does not see his faults, only his face, like a ghost of things lost and forgotten.

She had the hots for Jedediah Summerland?

Who are you, girl?

Jedediah was killed by vampires; are you saying that Lorna saw Keith and decided to try to relive old times?

You are taking this all very in stride, girl. Anita, you said your name was?

I did.

You smell of blood, and sorrow, but you are calm. What is your last name?

Dawn pressed like a weight against the window and its heavy drapes. He wasnt panicked enough for a vampire above ground. Human, then, but I was betting human servant. Not just a human that hung with the vamps, but a true servant like I was to Jean-Claude. He said he could smell blood and sorrow, and if he was a longtime servant he might have gained the ability.