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Wishing I could delay the rising of the Blood Moon, I spend hours with her, moving to the most desperate of the tent city territories. The people do not suffocate me, do not smother me. They are the first to divide our gifts and share them with those who need them most. With Jesula’s slow burn raging in my chest, I steady and pace myself, strengthening the dam around my flood waves of tears. No, the masses do not understand I am the Princess daughter of the Phoenix Queen. All they know is Lys Spirit: Angel Bride to Destruction. I imagine many suspect I am the Everblood.
I welcome the baby when the parents place him in my arms. No more than two months old. He is gloriously unmarked by any brand, whether from farm overseers or any knights, but I understand why as soon as I peel back the blanket from his face and discover blotchy red cheeks and breath fragile from his winter blue mouth. The Scourge. My knees turn weak, but I steady myself, steady my heart, and the raw emotion choking my throat.
Snapping my head to Jesula, I pinch my eyes upon her mirrored expression as a wave of hurt engulfs me.Holy foremothers. El Shaddai, Goddess on high, can’t you hear your people cry?
“How many more?” I ask Jesula and rock the baby, glancing at her mother and father, at how they hold their other children—a little boy and toddler girl who ask if their baby brother will be alright.
Jesula shrugs and jerks a finger to the encampment to the west—closer to the Spirit Realm woods where the vampires have their blood hunts. “The sick are being quarantined. They won’t let anyone in or out, except blood scientists like Quillion.”
The baby in my arms coughs blood onto his blanket. My Halo rears like a warrioress of light.You will carry healing to all the innocent who suffer from the Scourge.I also remember the Goddess saying I would pay the ultimate price for accepting this new darkness. So, I channel the inner spirit of a Hebrew midwife, take a deep breath, and lower my lips to the babe, kissing his eyes. Releasing my breath, I sigh my prayers to all my foremothers to take this yoke of pestilence from his tiny body.
Harnessing my Halo power to radiate from my chest, I fuse the light into his flesh, into his veins, inject it into his pores, and then his veins like a blood-synthesis. My healing power breeds its force into the child’s body, flowing its energy in pure wavelengths into his flesh, his blood, his DNA, and penetrating his very cells. Dizzy bits of black hole dust swirl in my brain, but I dig my boots into the snows at my feet and take solace in the wind whipping my cheeks, relying on my senses to grant me strength.
Whispers of prayers fade upon my trembling lips as my body quivers. I open my eyes to discover the child’s lips have returned to plump, pink hearts—his skin blotch-free. His mother gasps while the father offers a whimpering moan. Laughter from the children.
“That’s my baby girl,” Jesula murmurs her approval, squeezing my shoulder as I hand the baby to his father and ask them not to say anything about my healing power yet. Something tells me that’s not likely. That first time winded me. I need to inspect this quarantine encampment before I do anything else.
For the next few hours, I make my way through the tent city, moving towards the quarantine area about a mile in the distance. Sometimes, vampire knights dive low and pluck a child from the crowd, triggering cries and screams that prod my heart with lightning. Thanks to Jesula, I’m able to temper it. Along the way, I learn the refugee stories, of how so many escaped the clutches of Court Mordere. That blood-dealing warlord of a bitten vampire has been attacking border towns—more brazen as he encroaches into the Court O’Nines.
I hear their needs—meeting whatever I can—from more food rations to stronger shelters beyond the tents that don’t offer as much protection during the winter. Jesula records them for me because even if I don’t have the Prince’s heart, I still hold his ear in some small way, though I’m not certain how much he will listen…especially after today. A chill shivers through me at the thought of Neo and his dark eyes in that Court.
It’s close to nightfall by the time I arrive at the quarantine camp, where high iron walls divide it from the rest of the tent city. A thick plastic netting canopies it, electrified, no doubt. It reminds me of an enormous windowless and doorless warehouse, but the scent of death lingers from beyond those walls. Jesula remains about a hundred feet behind me, speaking to the last refugee family we helped. Breath hitching, I touch the wall to discern where I may enter.
“Lyssi, wait!” Jesula screams.
A sudden force rocks against me, hurling my body back and searing my gown. Dirt sprays into my mouth, and I cough, my whole body jolting. Dozens of people gather around me, but only Jesula touches my side and helps me sit up so I may recenter myself.
“I’m okay…” I pant, whirling my head to clear my vision and touching my curls that have turned into wild corkscrews—like I’ve just stuck a fork in a socket. Taming them with my Halo until they return to normal, I stand, wiping myself off, “Nothing like a few jolts of electricity to get my blood pumping!”
“I think you need some common sense pumped into that impulsive brain of yours,” Jesula scolds me, and I nod, promising I’ll work on controlling my impulsivity. We both know I probably won’t.
I get to my feet and appraise the warehouse walls, the invisible fence with its telltale hum. Beyond that, I can isolate all the speech from the surrounding people while detecting the shifting of snowflakes in the wind. For the next hour or so, I’ll probably hear everything like a vampire, which will be overwhelming. Touch will be another heightened sense, considering the air tickling my exposed arm hairs.
Just then, multiple vampire knights swoop down from the sky and land before me to block the entrance. I guess touching the wall was a trigger. “This building is quarantined,” the one on the left barks with his copper braid draped down his chest like a fiery spiral. “Only those with permission from the Prince may enter.”
I roll my sleeve up and reveal my horned mark, but the vampire knight shakes his head. “That is not an official border seal, lady bride.”
Glaring, I ball my hands into fists and prepare to challenge them—only for Quillion to phase directly through the walls and check the knights with his bishop title. “You will let her in upon my orders.”
Immediately, the knights break ranks and allow me to pass, allowing me to accept Quillion’s extended hand. “I forgot to tell you,” I whisper and tap one of many fleur de lis motifs along the back of his jacket, “I love your waistcoat.”
Quillion winks as we pass through the wall. “Hand-embroidered from France during the 18thcentury. But I’d give it away in a heartbeat if I could stem this tide.”
I almost pass out from the stench invading my nostrils. When I turn my eyes to the tide he’s referenced, the Halo nearly melts, injecting my heart with holy molten lava. Chest constricting, I gasp at the sight of the hundreds of figures resting, not on beds, but on floor cots without hardly a soul to attend them. No doctors.No nurses. No researchers, save for Quillion. No volunteers.No one!They’re living with their blood, their sweat, their own feces.
“Quillion!” I bury my head in his shoulder and nearly scream from all the sick and suffering. “Why? How can he—”
“I’ve implored him again and again, Elysia. Believe me, I have.” My friend tries to soothe me, curving his hand to the back of my head. “But the virus has not targeted the human blood farms within the Tenth Court territory. That is all that matters to the Prince. Even if it had passed into the homes of the blood masters, that would be one thing. Or if there was a cure…”
“There’s no cure?” I turn away, forcing myself to look at the children curled up and playing with their fingers because they have no possessions.
Quillion shakes his head. “I’m a blood seer, Elysia. I’ve stripped the virus down to its veins. It’s like it came from the Chasm, from hell itself. Our healers could only manage a few in a given day.”
“A few!” I cry out but lower my voice as soon as Quillion raises a hand to warn me because there are no healing vampires here. “A few is more thannone. Where are—”
Quillion’s eyes seem to turn to frost when they focus on me, already revealing the answer before he responds, “The virus can mutate and target vampires. The Prince won’t risk—”
I drop to my knees and dig my fingers into my scalp, putting my head between my knees so I may bite back a scream. No! He can’t do this. I won’t let him!
