Page 76 of Fang Fiction

“Word of warning, love.” He grinned. “Once I start, I’m not likely to stop.”

He leaned toward her, but they were interrupted by a banging on the door.

“What is that?” she asked him.

He shook his head—he didn’t know.

The banging grew louder—someone was shouting her name.

“Who’s there?” she called. She took a step toward the door—when she turned back, Callum was gone, and the room had gone pitch black.

“Callum?!” she screamed in a panic. “Callum!”

—

“Tess, open the door!”

Tess woke with a shot—oh god, what was happening—she never slept long anywhere. How was it possible she’d fallen dead asleep sharing a bed with a fucking vampire?! Callum was out cold, curled on his side—was he okay?

“Callum,” Tess croaked, her voice thick with sleep. “Wake up, someone’s here.”

But he didn’t move—a sickening wave of dread took hold of Tess. She shook him, but he didn’t respond—oh god, was he dead? She rolled him onto his back and saw that he was breathing—oh, thank god. The knocking was getting louder. She flew to the door and pulled it open. Sylvie and Nantale were there. Sylvie was holding a large pot full of something that smelled sour and herbaceous.

“Come quickly,” Tess panted. “He fell asleep. I can’t wake him.”

“Move,” Nantale said firmly, and Tess did. Nantale and Sylvie sped across the room to Callum—Sylvie stripped off the bedding as Nantale laid him out flat.

“You found the lilies?” Tess asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “Did everything go okay?”

“Quiet, girl,” Nantale ordered.

“Tess, will you get me some fresh water?” Sylvie asked, her voice calm but urgent.

Tess rushed to the sink as Sylvie removed the dressing from Callum’s wound. Tess gasped when she saw how bad Callum’s leg looked—the wound had festered, the veins around it were black.

“He’s still breathing,” Sylvie reassured her. “That means we can still save him.”

Tess nodded, hoping fervently that she was right. Sylvie cleaned the wound with the water and a white cloth, then dipped a wooden rod into the poultice.

“This is going to hurt,” Sylvie said to Tess and Nantale. “I need you to keep him still.”

Nantale nodded, then placed one hand on each of Callum’s ankles—she was strong enough to keep him from kicking. Tess climbed back into the bed and took his hand.

Sylvie used the rod to spread the poultice across Callum’s wound, and he woke with a shot.

“Fuck! What the bloody fuck—”

“It’s okay.” Tess clasped Callum’s hand as hard as she could. “Sylvie’s putting on the poultice. She’s going to cure you. That’s just the medicine working, you’re okay. Try to stay still if you can.”

Callum looked up at Tess, tears streaming from his eyes. She knew he was more than a century old, but he looked so young to her then, like a little boy in terror.

“It’s okay,” she said again, removing one of her hands from his so she could brush the hair back from his forehead. “We’re going to get you better, and then we’re going to get you home to your sister, okay? Everything’s going to be okay.”

Tess realized that she was crying too. She tried to blink back the tears, but Nantale was already eyeing her. Nantale didn’t say anything, though—she just held down Callum’s legs as Sylvie finished applying the poultice and redressing the wound.

“There,” Sylvie said. “It’s done.”

Callum’s eyes were closed; he was breathing heavily, but the pain seemed to be much less than it had been even a few moments before.