This village is like a maze. There are several twists and turns, and I realize I could easily get lost here. Finally, he stops in front of a sturdy wooden door. All the houses on this narrow cobblestone street are interconnected and at least four stories high. Above the door, there’s a sign that saysMularkey.
“We’re here.” He opens the door and bellows from the entryway, “Mom, I need help! Someone was stung by a hellionflare!”
“What?” a woman shrieks from somewhere in the house.
I take a deep breath, and my nose itches. The room smells strongly of medicinal herbs and other scents I can’t pick apart. It reminds me of Solomon’s place.
I scan the area to make sure there aren’t any threats, a habit ingrained in me. The house is modest, from what I can tell in my peripheral vision. There’s no time to dwell on details, though.
Dukie leads me to an open and well-lit room where there’s a large wooden table, surrounded by chairs of different sizes, and colorful upholstered fabric. Half of the table’s surface is covered in piles of books, tomes, and clay pots of varied shapes. Above the table, a large wrought-iron chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and trapped inside its cone-shaped light bulbs, white-and-blue flames flicker, brightening and dampening in the span of seconds. One could easily become hypnotized by it.
A woman with flaming red hair loosely secured in a bun enters the room with purposeful steps. She’s wearing a simple moss-green cotton dress and a brown apron. Her face is covered in freckles, and her eyes are either green or blue, depending on how the light from the flickering flames hits them.
“Oh dear.” She rushes toward me, her attention on Cheryl. She glances at the scratch on Cheryl’s cheek first, then inspects the laceration on her back. “How long ago was she attacked?”
“I’m not sure. Fifteen minutes, give or take.”
She frowns. “Minutes? I’m not familiar with that measure of time.” Like a ninja, she grabs my chin, forcing my mouth open. “Fangs… you’re a vampire.”
Dukie gasps. “Vampire? Oh wow. I’ve never met a vampire before.” He moves closer. “Can I see, Mom?”
I step back, freeing myself from the healer’s clutches. “Can you help my friend or not?”
“Probably. Is she a vampire too?”
Hell. What Cheryl is isn’t something I like to disclose, especially to strangers.
Dukie’s mother notices my hesitation. “I need to know if she’s a vampire so I can properly treat her. I’m guessing she is, or she’d already be dead.”
My heart clenches painfully. “Sheisa vampire, but she’s also a wolf shifter.”
The healer’s eyes widen. “A hybrid. Amazing.”
Yes, Cheryl is amazing. And I can’t lose her.
“Please set her on the table on her side,” the Nightingale instructs me.
I do as she says, then can do nothing else but watch her work. “How bad is it?”
“I won’t lie. Your friend is badly wounded.”
I curl my hands into fists. “Please tell me it’s not too late.”
“I won’t know until I examine her further.”
My hands are shaking when I pull my hair and yank on the strands. I’ve never felt more useless than now.
“My name is Phylia. What’s your name?”
“Ronan. And that’s Cheryl.” I force the words out through my choked-up throat.
Phylia cuts Cheryl’s torn shirt and removes the bloodied fabric. Without it, I see that the gash is deeper than I thought, and the skin around the cut is darker and swollen. It looks bad.
“She’s burning up. Is the cut infected?” I ask.
“Not infected—poisoned. And she’s running a fever because her body is fighting it. Most folks who are stung by those nasty creatures die almost immediately.”
My heart clenches painfully. “But you have an antidote for it, right?”
