“Bironan's in the back yard,” I said.
Caeran nodded, then took Lomen's arm and drew him back, gently closing the front door between us.
“I'll be right back,” Len said, getting up. “Keep going.”
She'd added a third layer of the gauze. I gently pressed it down, feeling the blood rise up against my fingers. Something very sharp must have made those graceful cuts.
I heard Len banging around in the bathroom again. She came back with a box of thick gauze pads, four inches square, individually wrapped. She dumped the packages on the floor and started ripping them open.
“Pull it down,” she told me when she had three of the pads in her hand.
I folded down the saturated gauze from the top part of Pirian's chest. She laid the pads over the exposed cuts and taped the top edge down with first aid tape, then opened three more pads. I folded down the gauze again and she added the new row, taping its top edge to the first.
She gestured for me to move the towels away from Pirian's sides. I did, and we saw that the cuts didn't extend around there, so she was able to tape down the bandage on both sides. We continued working down Pirian's chest until we reached the waistband of his pants. The cuts continued below it.
I looked up at Len. She nodded, grimacing. I undid Pirian's pants and pulled them down.
The cuts extended almost down to his groin. I was silently grateful they went no farther.
I wiped up the worst of the blood with a towel, draping another over his loins for Len's sake. If she noticed the gesture to modesty she didn't acknowledge it. She was all business, taping the last of the gauze pads over the lowest cuts, then putting a hand on Pirian's brow and peering at his face.
“He's cold. Can you—no, you need to clean up. I'll get him a blanket and make some tea.”
I looked at the heap of bloody towels we'd amassed. “Should I wash these?”
“Yeah, but you'd better shower first. Then we'll work on cleaning up.”
“How thorough do we have to be?”
“I have no idea. Better to be safe than sorry, though.”
She scrubbed her hands and forearms down in the bathroom, then turned it over to me. I stripped off my bloodstained clothes and left them in a pile not touching anything else, then got in the shower and scrubbed every inch of myself, twice. I kept thinking of Lomen as I bathed, of the look of horror on his face, and of Bironan's terror of contact with Pirian's blood.
How bad was it? Could I now be a “carrier” of the curse? Would it be unsafe for an ælven to touch me?
It couldn't be that bad. Caeran and the others had no problem being around Manda, sharing meals with her and so on. But maybe she'd never been in contact with infected blood.
I needed to know more. As usual.
I dried myself, wrapped a towel around my waist, and padded down the hall to Lomen's room, being careful not to step on any bloodstains. Put on shorts and a t-shirt and returned to the living room.
Pirian looked like crap. His usual pallor was rosy by comparison to his current hue. I checked to make sure he was breathing, then poked my head in the kitchen.
“Should I wash the towels and stuff?”
“Yeah,” Len said. “Put in some bleach.”
I laid out the least gory towel on the floor and started piling the others on top of it. Added Pirian's clothes, and then mine. The bleach might ruin them, but oh well. Clothes were replaceable.
I heard the Lexus start up in the garage. Len came in with a mug in her hand.
“They leaving?” I asked.
She nodded. “Caeran's taking them up to Madóran's place. He'll bring Madóran back. This is more than I can handle.”
I swallowed dismay. I needed to talk to Lomen, and he was leaving.
I carried the bundle to the laundry room, hoping to get a glimpse of Lomen, but the car had already pulled out. Depressed, I stuffed everything into the washer and started it going. Went back to the bathroom to wash my hands yet again.
I heard the front door close, voices in the living room. Manda and Savhoran had arrived. As I came out, Manda was pushing the coffee table away from the couch. She got a sheet out of the chest and spread it over the leather.
Savhoran turned to me. “Help me carry him.”
I started to protest, then my brain caught up. Savhoran had nothing to lose. Gratitude and relief filled me.
I lifted Pirian's shoulders while Savhoran took his legs. We got him onto the couch, and Len covered him with a blanket, then propped him up with a couple of cushions. She held the tea mug to his lips. He frowned and mumbled something, but didn't drink.
Savhoran came and sat in Manda's chair, laid a hand on Pirian's shoulder.
“Pirian,” he said softly, and continued in ælven. The words were beautiful to listen to. I decided I had to learn this language.
Pirian's eyes shot open and he took a gasping breath. He grabbed Savhoran's hand.
Savhoran gave a grunt, then pulled away. Pirian had a death grip on his wrist.
Manda made a little sound of dismay and started toward them.
“No!” Savhoran said, flinging his free hand out toward her. He stood up, wrenched his arm away from Pirian, and stumbled backward.
I caught him, steering him away from the bloody bedding still on the floor. We ended up against a wall, Savhoran gasping for breath. Manda came and wrapped herself around him.
“What happened?” Len said.
“Khi,” Savhoran said. He gulped, then took a deep breath. “Pirian needs khi. The alben fed on his. He just tried to take mine.”
“No one touch him,” Len said sharply, looking from me to Manda.
“Oh, no problem,” Manda said, shooting Pirian a dark look.
“I should be able to control him,” said Savhoran. “He is very weak. He just caught me off guard. If the three of you form a circle, we can feed him khi without risking him harming any of us.”
Len looked at me. I would have liked nothing better than to bow out. Pirian had abandoned the clan, or so it seemed, by not showing up when he was expected. And he still gave me the creeps.
But Savhoran had spoken to him with compassion. And he'd suffered—I didn't want to think about how he'd suffered, how he must still be suffering. If the clan wanted to help him, I had to support that.
“I'm in,” I said. “But I don't know what to do.”
“We'll show you.” Len turned to Manda. “You don't have to.”
Manda grimaced. “No, I'll help.”
We brought some chairs from the dining nook and arranged them near Manda's chair. Savhoran sat there while the three of us made a little circle holding hands, with Manda in the middle. Len put one hand on Savhoran's shoulder and indicated I should do the same. Savhoran closed his eyes and spoke in ælven. Some kind of prayer, I figured.
He held a hand over Pirian's forehead without touching it. My hands got hot, holding Manda's hand and on Savhoran's shoulder. Pirian moved restlessly, then subsided.
We sat there a long time. I felt like we were floating. I thought about Lomen, wondering when I'd see him again.
When. Not if.
Len started humming softly. I didn't recognize the tune, but it gave me something to focus on. It was peaceful, sitting there, drifting. I closed my eyes and listened and tried not to think about anything.
Finally she stopped humming, and I felt Savhoran straighten. We dropped hands.
“I think that is enough for now,” Savhoran said. He sounded weary.
I felt lightheaded and a little dizzy. I stretched my back and wiggled stiff shoulders. Savhoran got up and went into the kitchen with Manda.
Len sat in Manda's chair and held a hand in the air over Pirian's forehead, as Savhoran had done. She frowned and leaned back.
“Well, I don't think he'll die immediately. He's still terribly weak.”
“Loss of blood?”
“More the loss of khi. She really did a number on him. It's amazing that he managed to get here.”
She. The alben female. No question that it was the same one, then.
Why hadn't she killed him? Because he was ælven, sort of? Had she let him go, or had he escaped?
Len joined the others in the kitchen. I moved the first load of laundry to the dryer and started a second—the bedding that had been on the floor, and a couple of stray towels. Washed my hands again, then went to work on the floor and the bathroom.
Len didn't keep any heavy-duty cleaning sprays in the house; she mostly just used vinegar. I figured that wouldn't cut it in this case, so I put some bleach in a spray bottle from the laundry room, added some water, and went to work. I sprayed and rubbed down every surface that had come in contact with blood, including the whole bathroom, sink and shower, and the laundry room. By then I was seriously in need of some fresh air, so I went out back.
The moon was up, hanging gibbous in a black sky. Waxing or waning? I couldn't tell. I had never really cared much about that kind of thing, but I knew that Len did.
I wondered where Lomen was. Halfway to Mora County, probably. I was tempted to call him, but the conversation we needed to have wouldn't be good over the phone.
Maybe he'd already written me off. Maybe I was too much of a pain for him to put up with.
Stop it, I told myself.
I should just go to bed and get some rest. What the hell time was it, anyway?
I heard the screen door from the kitchen open and close. Savhoran joined me on the lawn, looking up at the moon.
“Thank you for helping my clan-brother.”
I turned to look at him, saw only the shadowed edges of his face. “Is he?”
“Until he declares himself otherwise.”
Or you do.
“He came here seeking help,” Savhoran said, a little stiffly. “You gave it. On his behalf, accept my thanks.”
I nodded, aware that the ælven took this stuff seriously.
“You think he can be redeemed? If he survives, I mean.”
Savhoran’s brow creased. Weariness, worry—maybe hunger, too. “I hope so. I cannot afford to lose him, if Clan Ebonwatch is to continue.”
“Do you
like
Pirian?”
A wry smile curved his lips. “No more than you. But I pity him. He has borne this curse for centuries. Little wonder it has made him bitter.”
I swallowed. I knew that Savhoran drank human blood, but that didn’t bother me. He obviously cared, obviously hated having to do it. Would he stop caring, as the years went on? Would he become like Pirian, a predator who made my hackles rise?
“We should go in,” he said gently, and something in his voice reminded me of Lomen, which gave me a twinge of emotional pain. He headed for the house, and I followed.
The kitchen smelled like chocolate. Len had made some hot cocoa, New Mexican style with vanilla and a pinch of red chile. The four of us sat in the dining nook with mugs.
Pirian hadn't moved. I looked at him, realizing I wasn’t as terrified of him as I had been. He was in rough shape at the moment. I could almost pity him, especially when I remembered the mess of cuts on his torso.
“What do the cuts say, Len?” I asked quietly.
She frowned. “It starts with 'You are mine.' I don't know all the words.”
“She did this to the last guy, too, probably,” I said. “Caeran said the cops were freaked out about the knives.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Which means the police have a sample of alben script.”
“Oh, crap!” Manda muttered.
“And a sample of alben DNA. We've got to fast-track Project Ebonwatch as much as possible.”
“We're still a minimum of two years away from starting any meaningful work,” Len said.
“Are we? What if we don't wait on the classes? I don't mean skip them, but start working ahead. We can get texts for the future classes, for the research we need to do. We don't need the degrees, just the learning.”
“And the practice. We've got to do the lab work.”
“So we ramp up the lab.”
Len gazed at me, lips pursed, then nodded. “Yeah. I'll talk to Caeran about fixing the location.”
“And we might consider enlisting some help.”
She shook her head. “No one outside the clan.”
“I was outside. You've got that confidentiality agreement. Maybe we can pick up someone with more experience.”
“Humans in general don't have a great track record for keeping promises.”
“You took a chance on me.”
“Because of Lomen.”
Oh.
They'd figured they had me by the nuts. I felt a flare of resentment, but let it go. It was basically true, after all.
I finished my cocoa and took my mug to the kitchen. The clock said eleven. I ought to study, but instead I just went to bed.
First night in a while I had slept alone. How easily I’d been spoiled. I lay there feeling sorry for myself and thinking about Lomen until I fell into a restless sleep.
My alarm woke me. I fumbled to turn it off, dragged on some clothes and went out to scare up some breakfast. The living room was dark, curtains drawn over all the windows and only one lamp on in the corner. A stranger looked up at me from Manda's chair and I caught my breath.
He was ælven, but unlike the Clan Greystone guys he did not look like a clone of Caeran. His hair was black and long, down to his waist, and he wore it loose. Fine features, pale skin but with a golden tint as if he'd been in the sun. Blue eyes. He smiled and my heart flipped over.
“You must be Steven,” he said in a rich, deep voice.
I nodded.
He stood and came toward me, extending a hand. He wore a kind of loose caftan, floor-length, that clung a bit to his slender frame. His movements were graceful, like a dancer's.
“I am Madóran. Thank you for your presence of mind in helping Pirian. Lenore has told me what happened.”
I looked at his hand. “Maybe you shouldn't touch me. I was covered in his blood.”
Madóran shifted, bringing up both hands and running them through the air around my head, shoulders, and down my body. His fingers were long. I felt a tingle, like a hint of static electricity.
“I sense no trace of the curse in your khi. I think you need not worry.”
I stood staring at him. He was gorgeous, and my body was reacting. I felt a flush climbing up my neck.
“Um,” I said, and ducked into the kitchen.