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“I’ll try my best,” Gavin said. “I promise you that by the end, you will feel better. I’ve been told I have the healing touch. Maybe you can tell me if they were lying to me all along.”
He schooled his features, trying not to bring any more fear and anguish to this family, especially as he peeled the bindings away from the child’s torso. It oozed pus from deep, bloody puncture wounds. Four large canines, wide enough to be the size of his thumbs. The imprint of a wide, powerful jaw had marked her, and the curse tainted her veins black.
“A beast, indeed,” Gavin rasped, and his magic came to his calling, warming his fingertips as he pressed them against Myna’s feverish skin.
“Those damn shifters. Myna is the second child this month to get bitten.” His mother dabbed a tissue over her cheeks and blew her nose loudly.
“Where’s the other one?” Gavin asked. Their darkening expressions were answer enough. Dead.
He imagined triangles painted on another door, one he hadn’t been able to reach in time. His magic soothed Myna’s pain while he cleaned the wound with gauze. “This is the bite of a beast, but not that of a werewolf.” He didn’t raise his eyes from the child, not even after their startled gasps. “Nor that of any other shifter.” He probed at the blackened skin around the puncture wounds. Liquid continued to drain from it, signaling an acute infection that had been allowed to fester for too long.
He removed the useless remnants of the human healer’s attempt to solve this: a paste made from mud and withered leaves.
Cursing under his breath, he pressed harder on Myna’s stomach, and his hand heated further. Yellow liquid turned clear and bloody as the spell pulled out the infection bit by bit. Too slowly for his liking. He could only blame his lackluster performance on his utter exhaustion.
“If it’s not a werewolf, then what?” Laura sounded skeptical. “The locals say they saw a werewolf around the woods during the full moon, waiting to attack. To turn us into one of them.”
“Larger than any they had seen before,” Belle added.
“A werewolf’s bite doesn’t curse,” Gavin said. “Those are myths created by non-magic-wielders because nobody teaches you any better. Shifters are born, not made.” At their blank stares, he continued, “This was an Archana Sídhe.”
“An Archana what?” Laura frowned.
“A Sídhe is a type of fae that curses with a bite. They aren’t common, but they are wicked and very dangerous.”
“Are you certain?” Laura pressed a tissue to her nose, to block out the rotting smell which emanated from Myna’s tattered flesh.
“Very.”
“A fae?” Belle’s skin reddened with annoyance. “That’s ridiculous. It was a giant wolf shaped like a man.”
“Sídhes are shapeshifters, and during the full moon their bites are poisonous. Their victims, if they’re non-magical humans, will become cursed Archanas, whose sole task it is to infect more innocents and grow the Sídhe an army.”
Belle and Laura glanced at each other.
Gavin cleared his throat. Perhaps better to come at it from another direction. “Werewolves by comparison aren’t cursed and called to bite humans. They are a race of people with unique magic, like me. Some are good, and some aren’t. Like with any society. But they don’t curse or hunt humans during the full moon. Archana Sídhes don’t usually hunt for humans either—unless they’re battling a war amidst their ranks. On those occasions, there have been recorded cases throughout history when they have.”
“Why would the fae do that?” Belle asked,
“To create an army of cursed ‘disposable’ humans to have under their control. It could tip the scales in a battle.” Gavin shrugged and pulled his satchel to his side, withdrawing a couple of vials.
One was a disinfectant and the other a potion to fight infection. He paused when he reached for the wrappings in his bag. The roll was nearly depleted, and Violet would need new bindings around her leg when he returned to their—his—room. “I will need large, clean cotton rags, hot water, a candle, and coffee.”
“Coffee beans?” Laura’s confused tone was barely audible over the hiss of pain coming from Myna’s chapped lips.
Gavin glanced up, opening the disinfectant vial and emptying it over his hands. He rubbed his fingers together before it all evaporated into the air. “I prefer it brewed. Black with no sugar.”
“Oh, of course. I will get you some.” She rushed down the stairs, and her sister kneeled beside him. Her face, which had been marred by suspicion until now, had lightened with hope.
“This is the calmest she’s been since she was bitten.” Belle swallowed and reached for her child’s hand. “Can you fix her?”
Could he? The infection went deep, but Myna’s body was answering to his magic with the eagerness of someone willing to fight for survival. He smiled wryly. He couldn’t promise anything until he’d sorted this out. Claiming that he could heal the infection would be a lie, and it went against the healer’s call. “I will try my best, ma’am.”
She pressed her lips into a fine line. “Will you stay here the rest of the day? You can rest downstairs. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable—”
“I’m afraid I can’t. My wife was also injured and suffered from hypothermia last night. She’s currently staying at the inn. I have to check on her.”
The child howled in pain when Gavin pressed harder to get the last of the pus out. Her clammy hand wrenched out of her mother’s grasp and clasped Gavin’s arm instead. “I-it hurts!”
