by Judith Post
The man snickered, unimpressed. "The dead have called to me. They beg for release. I can grant them that."
"How? They're dead. What are you?"
"A sin eater. I inhale and swallow the burdens that worry souls before they leave this sphere. I free their spirits to go in peace."
"And if their sins are larger than that?"
"They've earned whatever awaits them on the other side. But I can tell you this, after I visit these dead, burn their bodies." He motioned at the blaze that surrounded Christian. "That should be easy for you. Burn them, or the disease spreads more quickly."
"Do you have a name?"
"Vorare. Consider me a helpmate. You help the living. I help the dead."
Christian nodded and let the man pass. As the day wore on, they worked as a team. After Vorare left a body, Christian carried it to an open field. He made a pile. He placed children at the top with the baby from the second wagon at the peak. The young died first, the most fragile. Did they have sins for the Sin Eater to relieve them of? How could they when they were so young? When he'd collected them all, he held out his palms and blasted fire, hot enough to consume them. Vorare nodded approval and started to the tree line, but paused when Daralys left one wagon and started to the next. His gaze followed her.
"Is there someone else to collect?" Christian asked.
Vorare shook his head. "Not for now, but there will be soon—in your villages."
Christian sighed. Almost every person had attended the festival.
Vorare nodded. "Too many, I know. I wish you luck."
Christian returned to his buckets. He watched his mother, Cook, Daralys, and Brina visit every wagon. By the time they'd finished, they'd healed every sick person in the caravan and protected the others. The disease had spread fast.
"Your family?" Christian asked Daralys as he passed her.
"Protected."
"Lynet's?"
"Safe."
"Did you meet Vorare?"
She gave him a puzzled look. They must not have bumped into each other.
With a nod, Christian went back to bucket duty. Damp cloths needed to be pressed on warm foreheads. Families that stumbled, weak and tired, needed water to drink.
* * *
Two days later, the sickness had spread through every village. His mother went to the east, Cook to the west, Brina to the north, and Daralys to the south. They set up tents and people dragged loved ones to them to have them shoot healing energy into them. The serfdom's witches set up clinics to minister to them. Christian placed guards on every road that led to his fortress to warn people away. His soldiers fetched water, tended gardens and livestock. Jarman and his vampires took up quarters in the guard posts at each gate. They came to press cold compresses against hot cheeks and to cook pots of soup for the healthy to feed the sick. They couldn't go outside during the daylight, but people came to them. And come, they did. The barracks looked like emergency care shelters.
Christian rode from one post to the next, checking on supplies, facilitating whatever needed done. And once the sun set each day, the witches loaded bodies into wagons and brought them to him to burn. Vorare would join him then, eating past sins, before Christian turned the sinners' remains to ashes. He worked ceaselessly, only stopping for short bursts of sleep here and there.
On the twelfth night, fewer bodies were carted to him than usual. After Vorare helped their spirits, and Christian had torched the bodies, he heard a cart approach. His shoulders drooped with exhaustion. Please, no more. He turned to help unload the new corpses and saw that the wagon was empty, his mother and Daralys on the driver's seat.
Lady Enid called to him. "It's time we return to the castle. Cook went ahead. We'll eat a good meal and sleep in our own beds tonight."
They'd been sleeping in the garrisons, half listening for coughs or cries for help. Vorare nodded to him. "Go. Rest. It will restore you." He spoke to Christian, but his attention was riveted on Daralys. Christian could swear he heard a sigh.
Lady Enid raised an eyebrow when she saw him, but Daralys smiled, her expression rapt. Christian sighed. "Ladies, meet Vorare, our Sin Eater. Vorare, my mother and her student, Daralys."
Vorare bowed. When he straightened, he frowned at Daralys, clearly puzzled. "You're not frightened of me." It was a statement, not a question.
"Should I be?"
"No, I've come to help your serfdom."
"And we thank you." She studied him, bemused. "I knew I'd see you again."
Again? Christian turned to Vorare. For the first time, he noticed that when the sleeves of his gown pulled away, the veins in his arms stood out, black as night. "Is this the cost to you? I'm sorry."
Vorare opened the robe, exposing his throat. Veins throbbed with dark blood. "I digest the sins, and then they leave me."
"Do you inhale them?" Lady Enid asked.
Vorare stepped closer to Christian and pursed his lips, drawing a deep breath. Inky strands of old transgressions slid from Christian's nostrils and into Vorare's mouth. Vorare swallowed, and the black deeds coursed through his veins.
"But I'm not dead." Christian patted himself, feeling lighter.
Vorare smiled. "The dead call to me. They wish to be free of their burdens. The living are doomed to carry their sins."
Daralys's gaze held his. She didn't break eye contact. "You're very kind, helping people as you do."
"Thank you." Confusion flitted across Vorare's face. "You must have come close to death before?"
"When I was two. The fever would have taken me, except Lady Enid arrived in time. I saw you for a moment, and then you left."
"You've met before?" Christian looked from one of them to the other.
Lady Enid nodded, and from her expression, Christian realized his mother admired Vorare, too. He thought about that. "I almost died when I had the fever. Why didn't I see him?"
"I healed you before you called to him." Lady Enid beamed at Vorare. "But he's eased many a heavy soul."
"You've met him before, too?"
"Oh, yes."
Vorare gave a low bow. "Try to remember me as someone good. Most people fear me."
"Not me." Daralys stood. For a minute, Christian thought she'd jump down and run to Vorare. He must have thought so, too. The Sin Eater looked startled, as though he might bolt.
Lady Enid reached to hold her hand. "Our friend is a private person, but know this, Vorare, you're appreciated in our lands." With a nod, Lady Enid motioned for Christian to hop into the back of the wagon, then she gave the horses their heads and let them take them home.
The sight of his castle made Christian shiver with pleasure. Strong and solid, it felt like a sanctuary. When he strode down the steps into the kitchen, the aroma of beef on a spit and roasted vegetables made his mouth water. Brina stood with a basket of bread in her arms to welcome him.
Damn, his wife was beautiful. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Her lush, golden hair was flat and lifeless, but to him, Venus couldn't begin to compete. He crossed the flagstones and pulled her to him.
"The bread!"
He took it from her and placed it on the table, then crushed her close. He inhaled her scent—sweat, weariness, HIS. Lynet poured ale for him and put it by his plate. Damn, he'd never take this for granted again.
Jarman and Emma came to join them. Vampires might not need sleep, but Jarman looked the worse for wear. His soft-brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His green eyes looked tired. Emma didn't look much better. The witches had worked long hours, tending to those who were recovering.
Thurstan and Isolda came next. The werewolf had helped the soldiers with all the chores sick mortals couldn't tend to. He gave a weary smile. "If I ever have to feed livestock, chickens, cats, or dogs again, I'm looking for a new job," he joked.
Isolda, six months pregnant, sighed. She looked more tired than her sister.
"Are the people getting better, stronger?" Christian asked.
Emma nodded, reaching out to lace an ar
m around her sister's waist. "Three in our ward left their beds today. They're weak, but they can care for themselves and their families. More will leave tomorrow, and more after that."
"The young?" Christian asked.
Isolda sighed, pressing a hand on her swollen stomach. "We saved as many as we could." Luckily, her child would be protected by both her magic and Thurstan's.
Christian wondered if any infants had survived. The last time the plague struck, his serfdom had suffered a loss of children that left a two year gap.
"Your own families?" he asked.
Everyone nodded. They'd protected their own first, as it should be.
Christian missed having Brom and Ignisia at the table, but it wasn't wise for them to journey here yet. None of Brom's people had attended the first day of the festival. That was for Christian's serfs and their feast. They'd have come the second day, though. Aelio's people, from the next serfdom over, would have come, too, if his guards hadn't warned them away.
Christian placed his elbows on the table and leaned on them, tired. Cautious hope rose inside him. It was possible they'd survive this threat when many serfdoms didn't.
They were sitting at the table, laughing and talking, avoiding anything of a serious nature, when a knock came at the door. Lynet started to rise, but Christian motioned for her to stay seated. He went to answer the door himself.
When he saw Vorare standing in his courtyard, he gulped a deep breath. He shook his head. "No, we all have magic here."
"Not all of you." Vorare hesitated. "You never laid hands on Lynet."
"She's not sick. She's sitting with us at supper."
"I know." Another pause. Vorare chose his words carefully. "May I come in?"
Christian stepped aside, and when the Sin Eater crossed the threshold, Christian noticed he wore a loose, white shirt, a leather vest, and pants—not his usual robe. A man with bright-auburn hair and pale eyes stood before him. As tall as he was, and just as muscular, Vorare was damned good-looking. Jarman would be offended.
"Would you care to explain?" Christian grappled with the sudden transformation.
"The sins have been digested and purged. I'm not here on an official job."
"Why are you here?"
Vorare grimaced. "I came to offer a deal, but you're not the one who can accept or deny it."
Lynet. Christian squelched his unease and motioned for their new friend to follow him down the stone steps to the kitchen.
When Daralys looked up and saw him, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. She locked gazes with Vorare while everyone else stared.
"And who's this?" Jarman demanded.
"Vorare," Daralys said, "in all his glory."
Not satisfied, Jarman looked to Christian. He sniffed the air. "He's not mortal, but I don't know the scent. What is he?"
"A sin eater."
Jarman sprang to his feet. "I didn't ask to be changed, damn it. I abstain from human blood."
"Hush." Emma reached for his hand. "He didn't come for you. Let him speak."
The room went silent.
Vorare looked genuinely pained when he said, "In a few hours, I'm due to come for Lynet. I've cheated by warning you. You can't change things by laying hands on her. She was meant to go to bed and not wake up."
Cook crossed her arms over her chest. "Why? She's healthy."
"When she went to save her family, she caught the disease. It's taken longer to claim her because she's surrounded by magic, but when it strikes, it will prove quick and fatal."
Lady Enid's eyes gleamed with curiosity, and Christian realized she wasn't frightened. She looked excited. "Then why are you here so early?"
The man blew out a breath, nervous. He glanced at Daralys, then away. "I came to offer a deal."
Lady Enid smiled. "We're listening."
Vorare hesitated. He looked at Christian, and Christian nodded his head, trying to encourage him. Christian had no idea what the hell was going on, but his mother was almost glowing with pleasure, and Daralys was holding her breath. His mother had known something more that she hadn't told him.
"Spit it out," Jarman said. "We can't read your mind."
The words tumbled out. "I'm friends with Death. We've worked together many times. He'll spare Lynet if Daralys will have me. I could make this place my home. I can protect those who are mine. They'll still die, but not from disease."
Christian glanced at his mother, stunned. Vorare and Daralys? A sin eater and a healer? And they'd make his serfdom their home?
Daralys stood. She leaned toward Vorare and breathed the word yes.
The sin eater reached out a hand to steady himself. "You don't know me."
"I've seen people suffer, afraid to die. You spare them that. I don't fear you, and Christian's told me how you've helped. Do you love me?"
Vorare trembled with emotion. "I've never wanted anyone before. I can't explain why, how…."
"Neither can I, but yes. I've known you were mine since you came for me when I was two."
Lady Enid nodded. "You're destined to be together."
Vorare gripped Christian's hand. "What do I do now? What's next?"
Between gritted teeth, Christian said, "First, you let go of my hand. You're crushing it. And then…." He sighed. What the hell? "We should find you and Daralys a home. We're building a stone hut inside the walls for Thurstan and Isolda. We'll start another one for you. Welcome to my serfdom."
Vorare stared. "Just like that? It's so easy?"
"If you think marriage is easy, think again." When Emma scowled at Jarman, he laughed. "It's also infinitely rewarding. You'll never regret it."
Thurstan went to get him a bench. "Sit. Eat. You're one of us now."
Jarman grinned at Christian. "Why not? You have one of everything else. He'll fit in."
Christian tried to take it all in. "Does this mean the plague is over?"
Vorare nodded. "Disease dare not visit here. He knows me too well."
"He?" Oh, boy. "There really is a Disease? And a Death?"
Vorare gave him a pitying glance. "It's a crap job, but someone has to do it."
"Will they visit you here?" What next? He didn't want to think about it.
"As friends. I'll introduce you. You'll like them."
Christian rubbed a hand across his forehead. Why him?
Daralys took Vorare's hand in her own, and he smiled. "This will be my home. But I still have a job to do. I travel often and far. Will you be all right with that?"
"Yes."
His gaze turned to Christian. "I hope your people…."
Christian shrugged, halting him. "My people are used to magicks. They embrace those who are kind to them."
"You think they'll embrace me?"
"Why wouldn't they?" Christian felt a knot loosen in his stomach. The plague was over. "I'll be lucky if they don't invite Death and Disease to settle here, too." His attention returned to the table, to its food, and the friends who ate with him.
Brina leaned close to him. "Who or what could possibly attack our lands now?"
Christian's gaze met his mother's. Would the planets align to give them peace and prosperity now that they'd met the challenges they'd been sent? He wouldn't venture to say. The heavens were full of surprises, and he dared not tempt them.
Sisterly Love
The Sixth Christian & Brina Novella
A Lunch Hour Read
by
Judith Post
Christian paced. The sound of his boots echoed off the castle's stone walls. What the hell was going on? Lynet hurried up the stairs, rushed past him without a glance, and carried a kettle of hot water into the bedroom. He heard Cook's voice, mingled with his mother's. Brina cried out in pain. He wasn't going to live through this.
Brom hurried down the hallway to him. "Hang in there. I came as fast as I could." That meant he'd ridden his dragon, Lothar. "Your mom's a midwife, a strong healer. Cook's a close second. And Daralys is there, too."
Ignisia's footste
ps sounded on the stairs as she trailed behind her husband. Usually swift and agile, she'd carried their baby high and in front, but it had dropped. Now her movements were clumsy. His mother explained that meant the baby was due soon.
Christian stared at the dark circles under her eyes. Her silky, black hair was pulled into a high braid. "You didn’t fly here, too? Your time's close."
Ignisia waved away his concern. She was dressed in her usual black, but she was more covered up than usual. Her tunic cinched under her breasts now, high-waisted so that the material could span her protruding stomach. "Flying suits me better than being jostled by a horse or wagon. Scarlet was careful with me. Your mother invited me to stay at your castle. She doesn't want to take any chances of my delivering before she can get to me. I offered her one of our dragons."
Christian tried not to laugh. His mother…on a dragon. Nope, it wasn't going to happen.
At a muffled scream, he clenched his hands into fists. Women died during childbirth. He couldn't lose his Brina. He gripped the door handle, but Brom blocked his way. "No. If they want you, they'll motion you in."
Christian couldn't stand still. The pacing started again. At another cry, Brom joined him. Ignisia leaned against the wall and sighed. "Just part of pushing the baby out," she told them.
Christian couldn't think about it. If someone didn't tell him something soon, he'd use his magic to set the damned door on fire and force his way into the room. Thankfully, the latch gave and Cook beamed out at him. "You have a healthy, baby girl."
"A girl!" Christian had hoped for one. His serfs would be happier with a son, but he'd been raised by strong women, then married a beauty who knew her own mind. He rushed into the room, Brom and Ignisia close behind him.
His mother, Lady Enid, hovered by Brina's bedside. His wife looked spent. Her glorious, honey-gold hair was damp from exertion. Lying against her pillows, pale and tired, she'd never looked lovelier. She held his tiny daughter in her arms—an exquisite bundle wrapped in a blanket. She looked up when he crossed the room to her and smiled. "You said you wanted a girl?"