by J. A. Saare
My grandmother had taken me to Hecate’s domain to protect and empower our familial legacy. According to Grandma, she never caught a glimpse of the Goddess herself but felt the world hum beneath her feet and sensed Hecate’s presence inside the circle. I was offered as one of Hecate’s children and the Deity provided her most loyal demonic servant—Seere, also known as Seir and Sear. I knew him as Saul Sear.
This was why I was connected to a white demon I’d met less than a week ago. Having someone practically read my every feeling made me uncomfortable, but for the most part, Saul didn’t interfere.
“Sierra, are you going to be all right to do this?” Lavie rubbed my arms.
I nodded, though the tears I wiped away with the back of my hand contradicted my words. Where had they come from? I thought I’d swallowed them down. The kindness of others and their condolences would no doubt make everything worse. Losing a friend to death wasn’t something I could erase, no matter what I’d promised Ebony. Coping with her loss would hopefully get easier with time, but the pain would never fade. I still mourned Benita more than I should, but Ebony was too fresh.
Don’t lose it now, I told myself over and over again. She’s not truly dead yet.
If I focused on that one point, I might be able to concentrate enough to save Papan.
I stopped my rampant thoughts, patted Lavie’s hand, and slowly made my way around to the other side of the bed, never taking my eyes off Papan’s gaunt features. He looked even paler than when I left less then twenty-four hours ago. The beeping of the machines keeping him alive had become the soundtrack to my visits. I hadn’t left his side for days, refusing to budge. It wasn’t until Saul pointed out I was starting to smell that I finally headed home.
Instead of sleeping, I’d showered and then dragged Willow with me to tackle the long list of outstanding cases on my desk. Rest was something I could do another time—once Papan was conscious and walking around.
“Hey Papan,” I said, running my hand over his longish blond hair and pushing the strands away from his cool forehead. He didn’t register my touch or presence. If I was completely honest with myself, I knew he was slipping away. According to the doctors, all of the silver and the hellhound gunk had completely left his system so I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t regained consciousness.
I kissed his bristly cheek and whispered, “I hope you’re not angry about what we’re about to do.” I’d been determined to give him several days to recuperate on his own before doing the inevitable—a demonic blood transfusion. Saul was going to inject him with his own blood, and hopefully do what modern science hadn’t been able to. Though I was scared about what this could do to Papan’s wolf.
“Sierra,” Saul said. “It’s time.”
“Are you sure his body won’t reject it?” I asked, glaring at the demon.
He shook his head, those shiny blue eyes glowing in the muted light. “It’s just blood.” He hadn’t gotten much rest either. He’d been wearing the same shirt and faded jeans for several days. Circles shadowed his eyes, his dark hair was a mess, and a beard covered his face, but I was grateful for his loyalty and care.
“Demonic blood,” I corrected. “That’s not exactly a perfect match to his O negative, is it?” Being snarky wouldn’t help the situation, but I was feeling edgy and worried sick.
“Demonic blood matches all blood types.”
“So you’ve told me a thousand times.” I probably sounded like an ungrateful bitch, but Papan’s life was in the balance. Between my making this decision on his behalf and Saul’s willingness to pump his blood into him, we were playing God.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
“Of course not!” This was our last option—our only option. “I just want to make sure it works.”
“There’s no doubt it’ll work.” Saul motioned Lavie to his side. “Let’s show her.”
Lavie wandered over to the bedside table, where her backpack sat, and pulled out a machete. Saul extended his left forearm, holding out the underside and she slashed the blade across his skin, cutting a vertical line from elbow to wrist. Blood gushed out of the wound instantly.
Thunder rumbled, too close for comfort.
I swallowed down my nerves. “You’re not going to bleed out, are you?”
“I’m touched by your concern.” Saul smiled, while Lavie shoved the machete back into her bag and pulled out what looked like a homemade clay bowl with inscriptions on the outside. She placed it on the edge of the bed, under Saul’s arm to collect the blood. It seemed to pour out faster than it should and reminded me of what Maya had done to feed her ritual circle.
No, don’t go there.
I sucked in a deep breath, tasting the metallic tang of Saul’s blood in the air. It made me feel a little heady.
Lavie dipped an index finger into the clay bowl, stirring the contents before using the liquid to draw a circle on the white sheet draped over Papan’s chest and stomach. She did the same several times, bloody fingers going from the bowl to the sheet as she added more detail, including a pentacle inside the circle. She finished up by drawing a symbol I didn’t recognize in the middle of the star.
“The protection is sealed,” she said.
Saul nodded and extended his arm towards Lavie, raising it slightly. Without saying a word, she leaned forward and pressed the tip of her tongue against the wound she’d made on his arm. By the time she was done lapping the blood, the cut was gone.
“I don’t even want to know what the hell just happened.” I was continually learning new things about how powerful my friend Lavie was. Our recent trip into a storm drain had opened my eyes to the fact, but this was just weird.
“It’s nothing,” she said with a half shrug. “Demon hunters can heal demons with their saliva, and vice versa. No big deal.”
Saul winked at me. “It’s not the only thing their saliva is good for.”
“I didn’t need to hear that.”
Lavie giggled. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just teasing.” Her cheeks were rosy, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she had the hots for Saul or because of the blood high. Not for the first time, I wondered about these two. I was positive she was totally smitten and he seemed to enjoy being around her, but this was the first physical exchange I’d seen.
“What’s the protection symbol for?” I asked.
Lightning struck, causing shadows to deepen within the sterile room. Thunder followed close on its heels.
“To make sure Jason stays subdued and doesn’t try to shift while we’re doing this,” he said.
“Why would he shift?”
Saul sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Jason’s human side will have no problem accepting the blood, but the wolf might object. The wolf might see it as an attack and will naturally fight back. This sigil will keep the animal docile, like a tranquilizer.”
“That won’t damage either man or wolf?” I loved the wolf as much as the man and didn’t want to sever their connection in any way. “You wouldn’t hurt him, right?”
“I’ll try not to.”
“That doesn’t ease my mind.”
Saul’s eyes darkened as he met mine. “Yes, well, I think we’ve gone beyond easing anyone’s mind. We’ve waited long enough as it is. I would’ve preferred we do this sooner, but you—”
“This wasn’t a spur of the moment kinda thing, Saul. It’s his life we’re altering. I don’t know how he’ll take it.” I sighed, feeling a little defeated. “I wanted to give Papan a chance to recover on his own.” I’d been so sure he would.
“He’ll be grateful you helped save his life.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Jason a lot better than you think.”
“Guys, guys, both off you need to calm down and concentrate on why we’re here,” Lavie said, waving her arms between
us. “Sierra, you want your hunky boyfriend to be more than a delicious vegetable on a platter, right? And Saul, you want your friend back. I know how much it hurts both of you to see him like this, so quit bitching and get on with it! I swear you two act like brother and sister.”
I narrowed my eyes at Saul and he dipped his chin. Lavie was right. We couldn’t lose sight of the big picture. We had to save Papan.
“Sorry,” I said. “Do your thing.”
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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The Renfield Syndrome
Copyright © 2015 by J.A. Saare
ISBN: 978-1-61922-361-5
Edited by Holly Atkinson
Cover by Kanaxa
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2015
www.samhainpublishing.com