Page 37 of Once Bitten, Twice Mine

Caroline stilled. This was a memory. She remembered that name in her mother’s lilting accent that she could never replicate. She remembered this night, but not what her mother said next.

“Abhartach was a chieftain from long ago, when magic was woven through the land and its people. Though Abhartach didn’t practice the magic of the land, his own was dark and twisted, a perversion of what magic was meant to be that he used to terrorize those he had sworn to protect. One day, he feared his wife was having an affair with another man in the village and tried to scale his castle to catch her in the act, but fell to his death. When the villagers found his body the following day, they were thankful his reign of terror over them was over and buried him in the traditional way of chieftains, standing upright.”

“However, Abhartach returned the next morning, demanding his villagers provide him with fresh blood from cuts on their wrists. Out of fear, they gave him what he desired, and he left them alone. But of course he returned with the need for more. No matter how much they gave, it was never enough.”

Blood. This was what she half remembered during her investigations. A creature ravenous for blood that would never, ever be satisfied.

“The desperate villagers traveled around,” her mother continued, raking her nails in small circles on her scalp, “begging any chieftains they could to come and kill Abhartach for them. Finally, Cathan, a chieftain of a nearby clan, agreed and slew the evil Abhartach. Once again, the villagers buried him standing upright.”

“And once again, Abhartach returned for more blood. This time demanding even more. Cathan returned to kill him again, but Abhartach returned the very next day.”

Fear gripped Caroline so deeply she knew if she was in her own body, her heart would race as she trembled with fear. Though this child version of her was calm, still enthralled by her mother’s story. There was a loose fear, but she was comforted by her mother’s arms where no harm would ever befall her.

“How did they catch him, mam?” Caroline’s little voice shook, but knowing how the monster could be vanquished was the best balm for a scary story. And she was tremendously grateful to her former self for asking a question that was so important to her now.

“It wasn’t until Cathan tracked down a Saint who told him that the only way to ensure he would not rise was to stab him through the heart with a sword made from a Yew tree, bury him upside down, and cover the grave with ash branches and thorns. Then they placed a heavy stone atop the grave, and Abhartach was never seen again.”

Caroline opened her eyes. Sometimes her dreams left her as consciousness returned, but this one wouldn’t. It was burned into her memory because when her mother described how to kill Abhartach, it was Valeria’s death she saw in her mind.

* * *

Caroline’s footsteps echoed through the ward as she rushed through to find Dr. Murnau. The curtains were closed today so none of the patients were moaning or thrashing, but even in the silence Caroline felt people had died overnight. A nurse stood over Tommy Palmer’s bed with a dropper of laudanum, and she relaxed knowing he made it through the night.

The doctor was in the adjacent ward, the one she hadn’t gotten to in her interviews the previous day. His coat was off, and his white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His suspenders hung from his gaunt form, and she could see various stains on his black pants from bodily fluids that she imagined he hadn’t changed out of since she last saw him.

“Miss Blythe. I see you’ve made it through another night.”

“I’m pleased to see you’ve made it through as well,” she said with a brief smile she knew wouldn’t be returned. “Would you like me to get started here? I didn’t have the chance to speak to anyone in this ward yesterday.”

Dr. Murnau shook his head. “No, the patients here have illnesses and injuries unrelated to what is befalling our fair village. Mainly stomach aches and broken bones.”

She frowned. “It hardly seems fair you still have to deal with such trivial things while we are in the middle of an emergency.”

“As it always is in medicine. Despite any emergency you may be having, life around you continues.” His lips twitched, and she realized it was the closest to a smile she had ever seen from him. “Come, my housekeeper is forcing me to have lunch, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten either.”

Dr. Murnau led her to his office, where a plate of cold sandwiches was balanced on stacks of papers. He pulled out a chipped wooden chair for her, and she sat down, removing her gloves and placing them on the purse balanced on her lap as he sat across from her.

“How was last night? The ward seems emptier today.”

She held out the hope that perhaps they had healed so well they were discharged, but the slow shake of his head made her stomach sink.

“Nights are rarely a problem; it’s always the mornings,” he said, pausing to take a bite of the cold beef sandwich. “Last night was quiet, so I sent the nurses home before midnight in the hope that we could all get some rest. When I woke up just after dawn to a quiet ward, I thought perhaps the tide had finally turned in our favor. However, when I did my morning rounds, three died.”

Caroline sucked in a breath. Three dead. That was half the ward in a single night.

“I slept for a few hours, but I think it hurt more than it helped.” He removed his glasses before scrubbing a hand over his face. His bloodshot eyes had deep bags beneath them that shined a bluish grey in the low light. “I do apologize for the simple meal, but my housekeeper didn’t have much to work with, and I’ve sent her on some deliveries for people in town since we’re so busy.”

Caroline chewed her sandwich as her stomach churned. She needed to tell the doctor about Abhartach. Even though it felt a little ridiculous in the light of day that she had gotten this theory from a dream of a fairytale her mother had told her as a child. Though she still felt she was right in her gut. She only hoped the doctor wouldn’t laugh at her—or worse. Women had been thrown into sanitariums for far less.

“Have you made any progress in how to treat the illness?”

It was the coward’s way out to avoid telling her suspicions, but treatment wasn’t included in her mother’s story. Though she also hadn’t mentioned the villagers being ill after giving their blood. They only had to deal with the demand for more.

“No, I don’t know how to treat it; perhaps no one does. Not in an age of science and discovery. I fear the mysticism that would have treated this illness a couple hundred years ago has been lost to us now.”

“What?” Caroline’s heart pounded as she squeezed her hands. He didn’t sound like the doctor who was dedicated to reason. She wasn’t sure if that would make him more receptive to her theory, or if he was slipping into madness.

“It may sound ridiculous, especially in this land where your people have always kept mysticism at arm’s length. Are you prepared to believe? No matter how outlandish the story, it may be the one thing that saves your village.”