A Gift Of Blood

by JennaKay Francis

  "Please, Jaeger," she whispered. "I shouldn’t want you to be trapped in a mouse form." She smiled coyly. "And I shouldn’t think you’d want to be."

  Jaeger would have chuckled if he could have. Instead, he quickly bit into her finger, drawing blood. She let out a little gasp of pain but did not withdraw her hand. Jaeger drank down the blood almost as fast as it flowed, feeling strength course through his mouse’s body. Whether or not that strength would be there when he changed back to Vector form, he didn’t know.

  When he was satiated, he drew away and once more shifted. It was surprisingly easy, and he looked at Rhiannon in amazement. "How do you know so much?"

  She shrugged, moving into his arms. "It’s a gift."

  "No," Jaeger murmured, breathing in her essence. "No, Rhiannon, you are the gift. A gift I don’t deserve."

  "And why not, Jaeger?" she asked, her voice sleepy.

  He kept his answer to himself, burying his face in her soft tresses. Yes, she was a rare and beautiful gift. And he was terrified she would be taken from him.

  Jaeger held her close, feeling her slip into exhausted slumber. Once he was sure she was asleep, he left her to make a fire. Thoughts tumbled through his weary mind, but they always arrived at the same conclusion.

  Jaeger had to leave her.

  He had to get her to a safe place where Celd couldn’t find her, then he had to leave her. His presence, that mysterious whatever-it-was drawing one Vector to another, would only attract Celd’s attention. Just as he had drawn their attention to his mother.

  His father had made the decision to take him away from her, for them both to leave her so she could live out her life safe from Vector hands. But he was young. He did not understand why he could never see his beloved mother again. He had pleaded with heart-rending sobs to stay with her. In the face of this, she could not bear to let him go. She had begged his father to stay.

  His father could not refuse her even this. Particularly this. It was a decision hastening both their deaths.

  And it was all because of him.

  His gaze drifted to the bed, and his heart spasmed with grief. How could he leave her? He loved her.

  The mental pronouncement startled even him. He loved her. He didn’t want to leave her, didn’t want to be without her soft touch, her gentle ministrations, her mysterious wisdom. Sudden tears stung his eyes, and he straightened, abandoning his attempts at the fire.

  He returned to the bed and stood watching her sleep. In all of his years, he had never allowed himself to love, never let down his defenses. When you loved someone, you lost them. It had always been that way for Jaeger.

  Death was nothing new to him. He had seen two newborn siblings die hours after their birth, had watched human friends grow old and die, had witnessed his father’s banishment and his mother’s murder. It was embedded in his mind’s eye, replaying at inopportune times such as this. He wanted to forget it, to erase it from his memory, but he knew he never could. It would stay with him forever, just as the guilt would stay with him forever.

  He sighed, rubbing at his face with both hands. Rhiannon was a human. Humans got old. Humans died. Just as Rhiannon would, one day. And he would be alone again. The thought drove into his soul, shattered it, then devoured it bit by bit.

  How had Rhiannon pierced the shield surrounding his heart? And so easily? Was it only because of his emotional state at the moment, because of what he was going through physically? Was it because she was the first woman with whom he’d made love and experienced the heady rush of orgasm?

  He shook himself. No. There was something more. Something deeper. She had claimed a place in his sheltered heart, had crept in like a thief and stolen his resolve. He loved her, and there was no turning back.

  "You fool," he murmured aloud. "Your love will kill her. In the end, it will kill her."

  He sagged onto the bed and wept.

  Chapter 8

  * * *

  Jaeger stopped pacing to glance at the covered window. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the sun was setting, bringing night to the village. He had finally managed to get the fire burning, and now it shed its yellow glow over the room. The remains of dinner sat on the table, and Jaeger’s gaze flicked over it. He was hungry, but not for food.

  "Damn," he cursed quietly. Hard as he tried to suppress his thirst for blood, it called, sending both irritation and excitement through him.

  Rhiannon had gone for a bath. If he were going to slip away from her, now would be the time. It was evening. He could shapeshift and be gone. Without a trace, without a word.

  No. That isn’t the way to do it. And not here. We’re not far enough away from Celd.

  Feeble excuses all. He knew that. And it only served to increase his annoyance with himself. He looked again to the window. It had to be dark enough by now. It had to be. He returned and reached out tentatively to pull aside the blanket.

  It was not quite dark outside; and though the light wasn’t enough to cause severe pain, it was enough to make his eyes water. He released the blanket just as Rhiannon returned.

  "That was wonderful," she sighed.

  Jaeger turned, his breath catching in his throat. By the Sovereign, she was beautiful!

  She had once more slipped into one of his tunics. Her damp hair twisted down her back and shoulders in loose curls. Her face was flushed from the heat of the water she had just left, and the scent of perfumed soap floated across the room, enticing Jaeger closer.

  He surrendered, unable to stop himself. He gathered her close, breathing deeply, his hands running over the soft, smooth skin of her bare arms.

  She smiled up at him, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his lips. "Go, Jaeger, go relax in a hot bath. It will ease the strain from your muscles."

  "Maybe later," he murmured. "I—I have to go out for a bit."

  "Why? I’m here."

  He drew back, looked into her blue eyes. "No, Rhiannon, not tonight. In fact, I shouldn’t have bled you yesterday. It was too soon after your injury. I’m surprised you didn’t faint from weakness."

  "I know my body, Jaeger. When I use magic, it affects my blood."

  He frowned, puzzled, then remembered the sharp jolt he had gotten when he touched the handle of the armoire. He had thought it strange at the time that Celd had not sensed her presence, especially when the scent of iron had been so strong.

  "I shielded myself from Celd," she said now, obviously reading his thoughts. "I used magic. In so doing, I increased my iron level. That’s why I needed to be bled. That’s why I was bleeding when you found me under the dock."

  He shook his head, completely confused. Rhiannon opened the pack and took out a brush. She held it out to him, then sat down in the chair. Without thinking, he began to brush the tangles from her hair as she talked.

  "I had to use magic to escape the men who attacked me. There were four of them. I used far more magic than I should have, and still they got what they sought. I was attempting to bleed myself, to cleanse myself of the iron, but I must have cut too deeply and fainted instead. If you hadn’t found me, I likely would have bled to death."

  Jaeger started at her words. He hadn’t realized how close to death she had been. Or that she had been raped by all four men. The thought sent rage boiling through him. And a new possibility to torment him. What if she was with child? Or diseased? He didn’t know how to help her.

  Again she read his concerns. She turned in the chair, getting to her knees on it. "I’m not ill or with child," she assured him. "I knew I couldn’t use my magic to stop them, so I used my magic to stop the effects of what they did." She reached up and placed one palm against his cheek. "I’m fine. Really."

  Jaeger laid the brush on the table and caught up her hand. "I wish I could find the men that hurt you," he seethed.

  "And what? Revenge is not your way, Jaeger."

  "For them, I would make an exception."

  Rhiannon gave him a weary smile and shook her head. "It is not your way," she said again, her so
ft voice calming his anger.

  He leaned forward and kissed her gently, then straightened. "I must go out, Rhiannon. I will return as quickly as possible."

  "Are you sure you won’t reconsider?"

  "I’m sure. You need time to recover your strength." He paused, stroking her cheek with one finger. "Do you have a family?"

  She gave him a quizzical look. "I have my clan. They are all like family to me. Why?"

  "Where are they?"

  "North of here, last I heard. They rove."

  "And why aren’t you with them?"

  Rhiannon averted her gaze, then abruptly got off the chair. "I—I had things to do. They were going in the wrong direction, that’s all."

  "Then you can rejoin them at some point?" he asked.

  "Yes, at some point."

  He was puzzled by the vagueness of her answers. It was as if she didn’t want to discuss them at all, and he decided not to pry further. He crossed to the door and took his cloak off the peg.

  "I’ll be back shortly," he said.

  He made his trip brief and purposeful, shapeshifting to a wolf and taking down the first goat he saw. But tonight the blood tasted almost vile, and it was all he could do to gag it down. It gave him some strength, though it was nowhere near as restorative as human blood. After feeding, he shaped himself into a young man and strolled into town.

  He went to the pub, the greatest source of gossip in every town, ordered a stein of ale and sat near the fire. It didn’t take him long to pick up on the information being passed about the room. News of the deaths in Skyther had reached this small village as well. Only, now there seemed to have been more than three. Jaeger took a long pull on his ale to wash the fetid taste of animal blood away and tuned an ear to the conversation.

  His gut tightened with each word. Five dead now. A farmer and his daughter, both found drained of their blood. Anger burned through Jaeger. Celd’s work, no doubt. He thought about the bloodied carcass of the goat he had left in the meadow. He should have taken the time to hide it or bury it. With all of the deaths in Skyther, it was bound to attract more attention than it warranted.

  Jaeger drained his stein and rose, then started as a loud crashing came from the kitchen.

  At once, he was overwhelmed by the smell of fresh blood. He staggered, clutching at the rough-hewn wood table for support. Panicked cries echoed through the air, and a moment later the pub-tender darted into the room. His dark eyes were wide with fear, and he cast a pleading glance over the patrons.

  "Anyone!" he cried. "My boy, he’s bleeding! Bleeding bad. Someone help! Please!"

  There was a general murmuring of sympathy, but no one made a move to assist. The barkeep’s gaze fell on Jaeger, the only one standing.

  "Can you help, sir? Please? I beg of you. Please?" he cried.

  Jaeger started to protest but was stopped by the look of sheer grief on the man’s lean face. "I’ll try."

  "Bless you, sir, bless you. This way! Hurry!"

  Jaeger followed him into the kitchen, steeling himself against the scent of blood. A young boy, no more than eight or nine, sat in the center of the floor amidst the shattered remains of crockery, a dazed look on his rapidly paling face. Blood gushed from a gaping wound in his forearm, soaking into his clothing, pooling about his thin legs and running in a thin rivulet toward a floor drain.

  Jaeger snatched up a drying cloth and squatted beside the boy. He wrapped the cloth about the boy’s arm, applying pressure as he did so. The child let out a small whimper of pain but did not try to pull away. Jaeger glanced over his shoulder at the barkeep.

  "Go to the Hazelwood Inn," he instructed. "Room Two-Twelve. There is a woman there who is learned in healing. Tell her that Jaeger sent for her. Tell her to bring her bag with her."

  The barkeep nodded, wiping sweat from his face with his apron. "Will he…will he be all right?"

  "I think so," Jaeger replied. "But we need to close up this wound. Is there someplace I can lay him down?"

  "Yes, through there. On the cot."

  "Good. Now, go, fetch the woman."

  The barkeep spun and dashed from the room. Jaeger looked back at the little boy, who was staring up at him without really seeing him. Shock was setting in. Jaeger hoped Rhiannon would be swift.

  "Come on, then," Jaeger said softly. Still holding the cloth in place, he scooped up the little boy and carried him into the back room. He placed him gently on the cot and smoothed back sweat-clammy hair from the small, ashen face.

  The child gave Jaeger a tiny smile, complete trust in his gray eyes, then fainted. Jaeger sat still, trying to ignore the call of the blood. It had soaked through the cloth and touched the skin of his hand. It was warm, vibrant, alive. He knew it could do more for him, for his strength, than fifty goats. Still, he did not let up on the pressure on the wound. He would not. This boy would not be his. Jaeger closed his eyes and willed Rhiannon to hurry.

  As if in response to his unspoken plea, she entered the room, the barkeep one step behind. She cast a swift glance at Jaeger, her gaze both questioning and sympathetic.

  "He cut himself on some broken bowls," Jaeger explained, his voice shaking. "The wound is jagged and quite deep. He may have cut the vessel that comes from the heart."

  Rhiannon nodded, sitting on the edge of the cot. She opened her bag, took out a container of liquid and wet a small cloth with it. This she placed beneath the boy’s nose and over his mouth. He let out a small moan, then went still. Rhiannon looked up at the boy’s father.

  "It would be best if you busied yourself elsewhere," she told him. "The boy will feel no pain, but your empathy with him will affect you. Go."

  The man’s gaze went to his son. "He’s—he’s all I have," he whispered. "Please, don’t let him die. Please."

  "I’ll do my best," Rhiannon said. "But I make no promises."

  "I’ll go with you," Jaeger said.

  "No," Rhiannon countered at once. "I may need your help."

  Jaeger grimaced. He didn’t want to stay here, to be in the same room with this child, this blood that called to him. Yet, he couldn’t tell Rhiannon no. He nodded with a sigh. The barkeep hesitated, then leaned over and kissed his son’s forehead before hurrying from the room. Rhiannon rose and closed the door behind him.

  "All right. First, I will need to find the vessel from the heart. That has to be closed off or the boy will lose too much blood." She began removing supplies from her bag, some Jaeger recognized, others he had never seen before.

  There was a spool of fine thread, a very fine needle, some herbs and a strange-looking bit of metalwork resembling scissors but lacking the cutting edge. She took the glass chimney off the lamp and passed the tool through the flame, then looked up at Jaeger.

  "All right, I want you to release the cloth about the wound. After I isolate the bleeding vessel we’ll wash the injury and close it."

  Jaeger did as she asked. At once, the blood began to pump furiously from the boy’s arm, spraying onto Jaeger’s hand. He sucked in his breath, closed his eyes and forced his desires aside.

  "There it is," Rhiannon said softly. "And… I’ve got it."

  Jaeger opened his eyes to see that she had clamped the metal tool about the gushing artery. The blood flow had stopped. He watched in fascination as Rhiannon sprinkled a white powder over the entire injury, then held her hand inches above it. She closed her eyes, mumbled a few quiet words, then moved her hand in a circular motion over the wound.

  The bleeding slowed, then stopped. The tissue seemed to shrivel upon itself, like leaves recoiling from a flame. Rhiannon opened her eyes, gave a small smile of satisfaction and unclamped the metal tool. She rose, fetched a pan of water and gently cleansed the wound.

  Jaeger watched in awe and growing pride as she began to sew the wound closed. Each stitch was meticulously done and tied off. When she was finished, a neat row of knots traced up the boy’s arm. Rhiannon used the remaining water to clean the blood from the skin, then dried it gently. A clear
ointment followed, smeared lightly over the knots. Finally, Rhiannon removed the cloth from the boy’s face and sat back with a contented sigh.

  "There," she said. "That is all I can do. The rest will be up to the boy and his father."

  The boy stirred, letting out a small whimper of pain, and his eyes fluttered open. He stared up at Jaeger and Rhiannon in confusion and alarm. Rhiannon smiled at him in reassurance.

  "Fetch his father," she told Jaeger, then stopped him as he rose. "Wash first."

  Jaeger looked down at his hands. They were covered with dried blood. Blood he had been able to resist. Perhaps it was as Celd said—he would get used to this need. He quickly washed and went for the barkeep.

  The man was huddled at a table, surrounded by sympathetic friends. He looked up at Jaeger, his eyes questioning.

  Jaeger smiled. "He is awake. Come."

  The little boy looked up as his father entered the room, and broke into tears. "Papa," he sobbed. "I’m sorry I broke the bowls. I’m sorry."

  The barkeep fell on his knees beside the bed, gently embracing his son. "Don’t worry over the bowls, boy. You’re far more precious than some bits of crockery."

  "The wound will have to be kept dry and clean," Rhiannon said. "And I will leave you this powder. Sprinkle it over the wound for the next few days. The stitches can be removed in seven days’ time. After that, he must take care for another week or so. I will also leave you something for his pain. Be sure to give him plenty of water to drink. He needs to make up for the lost blood."

  The barkeep nodded, then abruptly grasped her hand and kissed the back of it. "My thanks, gentlewoman! And to you as well, kind sir. I have no money to speak of, but what I have is yours."

  "We need no money from you," Jaeger said at once. "Our payment is your thanks." He extended his hand to Rhiannon, who stood up unsteadily.

  "Then," the barkeep said. "Allow me to at least make your meals here free of charge."

  Jaeger was eager to be away. He could once more smell the iron radiating from Rhiannon’s body, see the pallor on her face. She had used magic here, again more than she should have in her state of weakness. He nodded to the barkeep and led Rhiannon from the pub.