Page 18

Kit

T he blade came to my hand like a whisper from the grave. Longer than I was used to and heavy, the hilt felt cold in my hand and I knew in an instant this knife was somehow connected to the woman I’d called Lemeraties.

Sybin came at me with her long dagger, held almost like she’d hold a short sword. The dagger’s profile might have made it work, except knife fights were all about speed. She was angry and scared, too, scared enough to be desperate. That could spell disaster, but I hadn’t here to die on this rock.

As she lunged, I reached for that tribal drum beat I’d heard earlier and the shield settled into place on my arm.

By then, I’d twisted away and we’d once again squared off, I had the pugio-like dagger in a forward grip and the shield protecting my left side.

Sybin was right-handed.

She was taller than me with a longer reach.

But that wasn’t always a good thing.

When she lunged, I swayed away and moved inside her guard. In a blink, I banished the shield, caught her weapon hand and knocked her legs out from under her.

A collective gasp went up around us as I rode her to the ground. Slamming her weapon hand against the rocky earth, I applied pressure and the dagger fell from her grip.

I still held mine and I pressed the tip to her neck.

“I warned you,” I said quietly. “I’ve been fighting for survival while the lot of you up here just train and play at war games. There’s a difference between you and me, Sybin. I’ve killed because I had to…to survive. For my life. For the lives of people who mattered. Apparently, the one time you killed? You did it because you wanted to. And you were just discovered—not because of me, but because you are an amoral, cowardly piece-of-shit. That’s on you.”

Shoving away from her, I got to my feet.

I should have just killed her.

But I was so damn tired.

Turning my back, I met Damon’s eyes.

His gaze met mine.

Then he lunged for me.

He caught me against him, spinning.

I smelled blood.

I heard a choked, bubbling breath and then a ragged, choked curse.

“Damn you,” a woman said.

Damon put me down and we both looked.

Sybin lay on her side, curled in a fetal position.

A spear pierced her side. The slender, dark-haired aneira I’d seen address Sybin only moments earlier moved forward on stiff-jointed legs and she yanked the spear out of Sybin.

The action tore a scream out of the other aneira , a wet, tortured one and the wounded woman went to her back, pressing bloodied hands to the puncture injury as blood pumped freely.

Her eyes, wide and dark, stared at the dark-haired woman.

“Why?”

Aneva curled her lip.

“That you can even ask me that…” With a shake of her head, she turned and stalked away.

Lemeraties walked with me back to the hospital.

It wasn’t much of a medical facility. Years in the wider part of the world had spoiled me.

Lemeraties spoke in a soft, certain tone. “You’ve remembered more.” It wasn’t a question, but a comment.

With a shrug, I said, “Some, I guess. It’s like there’s a fog clearing in my head. Nothing concrete. Things will just be…there.”

Kathra looked across the floor toward me but the moment she saw Lemeraties, she paled and jerked her gaze away.

“They’re all scared to death of you,” I muttered under my breath.

“They will survive.” The being next to me shrugged, unconcerned. A sad noise came from her as she crouched on her knees next to a bed, the small figure in it barely causing a lump. The boy couldn’t be more than four or five. “But will these children?”

That was what I’d like to know.

Kathra rushed over, her eyes stark and even though she still wouldn’t look at Lemeraties, I knew just what had brought her closer. I stepped directly into her path just as Damon came through the door. “Can we talk about what’s going on here? Why are these kids sick—we don’t get sick like this. What’s wrong with them?”

“I…” Kathra darted a look past me to Lemeraties.

I moved to block her view. “Talk to me. She’s no threat to them.”

It was Demetrio who answered. “We don’t know .” He’d disappeared for a while earlier, maybe to deal with Sybin’s death, or her family, but he was here now and he moved to stand with Kathra. “Kathra is skilled at treating injuries and childbirth trauma. But diseases like what we see in the human world…they’ve never affected us before. This…we don’t even know what it is.”

“I do.”

Everybody looked at Damon.

He came closer and without thinking about it, I took his hand.

He swung his gaze down to meet mine and my heart squeezed in my chest.

He’d been ready to step between me and everybody else earlier. I’d known before it had happened.

More memories of him had shaken free. Some frustrated me. Some made heat rise to my cheeks. Some crushed my heart.

But standing there next to him felt…right.

So, I held his hand, and his gaze and waited.

He brushed his thumb over the back of my hand and squeezed gently before looking back at the others. “It’s not something you usually see these days except in underdeveloped countries—and then only among humans. But that smell is unmistakable. It doesn’t make sense, having it show up here, but I don’t know much about disease transmission.” He blew out a breath. “It’s cholera.”

I sucked in air, feeling like all the oxygen had been squeezed from my lungs.

Across the quiet medical ward, I heard the healer's shocked breath.

But nobody said a single word.

Those discordant voices buzzed loudly at the back of my head again.

They were making my headache worse. The headache had come on hard and fast not long after I’d dispatched Sybin, pulsating behind my ears and shooting down to throb at the base of my skull like a miniature drummer had set up house right there.

One of the voices was a quiet, steady hum that increased whenever I touched the sword and I recognized her music now. In a fit of desperation, I told her to be quiet—and she did.

The other one, though…his voice only got louder. His was angry and strident, almost grating in my ear.

“ Find her , ” he told me. I tried to silence him as Damon talked with the healer and Demetrio.

Over the past half hour, the healer’s face had grown tight and drawn.

It was like she’d aged decades.

Cholera .

How in the hell had cholera ended up here?

The pounding in my skull increased and I felt like I should know that cause of it—and maybe I did know, but the pieces of that puzzle were still hidden by the fog.

“Well, this is a mess.”

I almost jumped out of my skin at her voice and whirled, coming face to face with Frankie.

Behind me, I heard Damon swearing and sensed him approaching, the heat of his presence rolling over my skin in a rush.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded.

Frankie’s lips curved in a sardonic smile. “I thought maybe I’d stop in for some R&R, maybe grab a cocktail, lounge by the pool.”

Damon bared his teeth.

She rolled her eyes and slanted a look at me from under her brows. “I take it you didn’t tell him what I do.” Then she sighed. “Shit, you probably don’t remember.”

A sharp pain spiked through my skull and I turned away, pressing the heel of my hand to my temple.

Damon was at my side instantly but when he went to touch me, I waved him off. “It’s just my head.”

I sensed his frustration. It left my skin itching. As the pain ebbed, I looked back at Frankie, acutely aware of her watchful interest. “Don’t remember…” The words dried up and memory seized me.

Damon didn’t notice. He was talking to Frankie.

“You healed people, Kit said.” He went rigid and the tension in the air ramped up.

My breath felt trapped in my lungs, because I suddenly remembered how she healed people.

“Can you heal them?” Damon demanded.

Frankie inclined her head and started to answer.

“No,” I said, the word spilling out of me just as another fragment of memory fell free.

Frankie’s hands on me. Her eyes glowing. A sensation of agony and pain being drawn out of me…and into her.

“You feed on pain,” I said. The words came out harsh and accusatory.

“Honey, I didn’t ask for that.” Gaze narrowed, she leveled a flat look my way. “It’s not like I asked to be made into…whatever I am—I was born this way and for me to continue to exist ? Yes, I have to take in suffering.” Color swept up and stained her cheeks under the warm brown of her skin. “I could be like my father and revel in it—but I found a way to survive without causing misery. I actually do better when I heal people and take their suffering away—when I take that misery into myself and feed off that pain. They win, I win.”

The two of us glared at each other and it was Damon who stepped between us.

The odd look he gave me barely registered and I twitched under the heavy hand he put on my shoulder.

“You can heal them, though, right?” he asked.

I froze when he spoke, even as I wanted to yell at him—yell and shove Frankie away.

“I can…stabilize them,” she said slowly. “They need medical treatment at this point. They’re dehydrated, some to the point that it’s nearly critical. But I can stabilize them—that will hold them until we can get them to a hospital.”

I twitched and Damon’s hand tightened on my shoulder.

Sensing his gaze, I looked up at him.

He tugged me away from the rest of the group and reluctantly, I followed.

“I don’t know what the deal is here—and if your gut is telling me she’ll harm them more, then I’ll listen,” he said in a low voice. “But some of them are running out of time. At least of couple are on the edge of organ failure. If she can stabilize them…don’t we at least owe their parents the choice?”

My stomach dropped out and I looked up at him.

Serious gray eyes met mine.

“That bad?” I whispered.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.

Horror and despair washed over and I grabbed onto his arm to keep from crumpling to the ground in despair.

“How do we get them to a hospital?” I demanded. “We don’t even have a fucking boat.”

Damon’s jaw went tight. “The first thing we have to do is let Frankie stabilize those who are near critical. Then let me figure out the rest.”

“What are you going to do?” I demanded. “ Swim back to the port and ask for another boat?”

“If I have to,” he bit off.

He would, I realized, staring at him. Lightheaded, I held his gaze and realized he absolutely would.

“Why?” I whispered. “You don’t know these people. You don’t even like them.”

“Those are children,” he said, pointing past my shoulder to the building. “I don’t have to like the adults—I can hate them with everything in me and it won’t matter. You don’t let children suffer if you can do something to stop it. And…Kit…they’re your people. It’s kind of obvious that some of them cared for you—that Demetrio guy clearly did and he’s your age. He’s busting his ass to keep these people safe. That alone means I have to do what I can.”

“And what about Doyle?”

He touched my cheek.

“If I let innocent children die to go chasing after him, he’d never forgive me. But that doesn’t mean we’re done—this won’t take long. But we need Frankie’s help.”