Page 56 of Fang Fiction

It took him a second to get his bearings—he was lying on a couch in his rooms back at Nantale’s compound. Nantale and Sylvie were there, and so was Tess—she was wringing out a wet cloth, dripping cool water onto his forehead.

“Are you okay?” Tess looked even paler than usual.

He felt a lurch in his body, an involuntary desire to comfort her, to show her she didn’t need to worry. But when he tried to move, his head swam again, and he felt like he might be sick.

“Easy, easy.” Sylvie stepped in front of Tess and Nantale. “You two, give him space. And you—don’t try to move yet. Here. Drink.”

She had filled a whiskey glass with warm rabbit’s blood, and he sipped it slowly. The sustenance felt medicinal and right, and he felt a bit less woozy with each sip; everything around him came into clearer focus.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You were stabbed,” Tess said gently. “Sylvie thinks the dagger must have been poisoned.”

“The wound should be healing, but it isn’t.” Sylvie looked concerned. “I don’t know exactly what’s causing it, but it’s in your bloodstream. Did you hallucinate when you were passed out?”

Callum avoided eye contact with the others. “Erm. Yes.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sylvie nodded. “We need to figure out what kind of poison it is so we can find an antidote. I have a book in my room that might help—I’ll go get it.”

She sped off, leaving Callum alone with Tess and Nantale.

“How are you feeling?” Tess asked. “Do you remember what happened in the meadow?”

His mind immediately flashed to his hallucination, but he knew that wasn’t what she meant. She looked squirrelly—was she hiding something?

“Not really,” Callum admitted. “How did I get back here? Nantale, did you come for me?”

Nantale nodded toward Tess. “The girl brought you.”

“On the horse,” Tess clarified. “You were half-conscious, we rode back together. You don’t remember that at all?”

“I don’t.” Callum peered at Tess. “Why?”

Tess looked down, and her cheeks warmed. Now Callum was sure there was something she wasn’t saying.

Sylvie rushed into the room with a thick leather-bound book and laid it on Callum’s table with a thwack. Tess frowned as she read over Sylvie’s shoulder.

“Henbane?” Tess asked. “You think that’s what poisoned Callum?”

“Maybe.” Sylvie frowned. “But these effects seem awfully severe for henbane.”

“Felix’s clan has used poisoned blades against us before.” Nantale shook her head. “But we’ve never been able to identify the poison—or find a cure.”

“Oh!” Tess’s eyes lit up with recognition—but then she bit her lip, looking worried. “Do you think it could possibly be Datura?”

“Datura?” Callum looked puzzled.

“Devil’s trumpets—of course.” Sylvie flipped pages in her book. “Highly toxic, hallucinogenic, can cause fevers, delirium, psychosis, and death.”

Nantale looked gravely from Sylvie to Callum. “But there is no cure for Datura.”

“That’s true,” Sylvie confirmed, shutting her book with a dreadful finality.

Everyone looked crestfallen, but Callum had to repress an urge to laugh. After all his lifetimes, was this really the end? Some stupid little leg wound with a dirty knife?

But then Tess cleared her throat.

“What is it, girl?” Nantale asked, eyes narrowing.