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My shoulders began to shake as I watched Menolly slowly withdraw, her chin covered with burned flesh that had stuck to her skin, her mouth stained with the red of Chrysandra’s life. She looked from Camille to me, turned and crossed to the sink where she washed her face, wiping her mouth softly with a paper towel. A moment later, the three of us were standing by Chrysandra’s bed as the monitor shrieked out the lack of a pulse, the lack of a heartbeat.
The healer came running in. He pushed through the plastic without giving us a second look, and checked Chrysandra for a pulse. Then he listened for her heart, and lastly, he lay a gentle hand on her forehead, and I could tell he wanted to close her eyes but couldn’t—the lids had been burned away.
He noted the time in her chart as his colleagues joined him. A few whispers later, they exited the plastic curtains and he stopped by Menolly’s side.
“I’m sorry to tell you that your friend didn’t make it. She died. Her burns were too extensive.” He caught her gaze again, and compassion flickered across his face.
Menolly nodded. “If no one claims her body, I will. I honestly don’t know where her family is.”
Nodding, he turned away. “I’ll make a note of that. Six others also died in the fire.”
Menolly crouched down into a squat as she wrapped her arms around herself and began to rock. “No . . . no . . . no . . . what the fuck happened? Who did this and why?”
Camille stepped between her and the healer, pushing him back. “Keep us informed,” she said brusquely. She took Menolly by the shoulders and drew her to her feet, moving her toward the door. Menolly allowed herself to be guided along. She did not resist, did not speak, a horrified expression branded on her face. And then we were in the hall and Aswala was there, looking ready to scold me.
I shook her off. “We need to leave.”
“I have to see them. I have to know who died.” Menolly’s stammers were barely above a whisper, but they echoed through the still hall.
“You aren’t in any shape—” Camille started, but let her words drift off. “All right. Delilah, go get dressed. You’ll still be on bed rest till tomorrow when we get home.”
Pain flared in my hand, digging deep, sending me leaning against the wall moaning. The image of a scalded Chrysandra came to mind. I couldn’t fathom the pain she’d been in—it must have been excruciating beyond any scope of the imagination. I straightened my back as I headed back to my room. By the time I got there, I’d broken into a sweat, but I downed a glass of water, then another, and my stomach slowly began to settle.
Aswala followed me in, and silently handed me my clothes. She removed the IV from my arm and stood back, watching me.
“Your sister. She’s going to need some counseling over this.”
“Riiiggghhht. . . .” Menolly was about as likely to agree to counseling as I was to agree to a boob job. “That’s not going to happen.”
“It was her bar. She feels responsible. I could see it in her eyes. Until they find the reason for the fire—and let’s hope the reason is beyond her control—she’s going to imagine the worst possible scenario.”
“Oh, we’re pretty sure this was arson. We have full reason to believe it.”
“Regardless of that possibility, your sister is still going to blame herself. Trust me, I’ve seen this sort of situation far too often.” Aswala opened my chart and scribbled something in it. “I’m releasing you, because otherwise I have a feeling you’ll just sneak out. But get your butt home and in bed. You hear me?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I do. I just . . . we need to be home right now.”
“I understand. Get dressed. And I want you to drink a lot of water over the next few days. It will help dilute what toxin still runs in your veins. The antivenin is helpful but it can’t negate all of the poison.”
I accepted the bottle of water she pressed in my hand and began to dress. All the quietude of the past couple of months had vanished in a snap of the fingers, in a quick gust of wind.
Aswala handed me a kit containing the healing salve to put on my wound, as well as a week’s worth of bandages. Then, feeling I should say something, I caught her gaze.>A few other memories began to phase back in that had been lost in the sudden onslaught of fever. I shot straight up. “Menolly! The Wayfarer!”
Camille hung her head. “She called half an hour ago. I won’t lie—it’s bad. They extinguished most of the flames, but the place is still smoldering. We won’t know till morning how badly the bar was damaged, but it’s not good. Menolly didn’t have much to say. She’ll be here soon, though. Chrysandra’s fighting for her life, and so are several others—customers who were caught in the flames. We may never know how many vampires died—they would have been dusted by the flames if they were caught.”
This time, I laid back down without being shoved. Chrysandra had been with the Wayfarer for years. She was there when Menolly took over and had helped her during the transition. She was easily the best waitress at the bar and she and Menolly had become friends.
“You don’t think . . .” I didn’t want to verbalize what was going on in my mind and I hoped Camille would understand what I was asking without me having to spell it out.
Her thoughts must have been running in the same direction because she sucked in a deep breath. “I know what you’re thinking. I hope to hell Menolly doesn’t decide to sire her.”
“How close . . . how bad . . . is she . . .”
“Chrysandra’s dying. There’s no chance for her to pull through, and Menolly doesn’t know that yet. I plan on being there when Menolly walks in to check on her. Maybe I can stop her, if her instincts get the better of her.” Camille glanced up at the clock. “Speaking of, I guess I should go wait for her. You rest. And by the way, Kitten . . .”
“Yes?” I stared at her defiantly, knowing what she was going to say.
“Aswala told me what she told you. Don’t you dare think of trying anything exerting for the next few days. Though, your hand is going to be hurting so I doubt you’ll be able to do more than bitch and moan.”
