Dhampir - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,108

could see Brenden's red face turning pale. The fear in his expression was followed by disgust, then by horror, and then sorrow. Why should he be sorry?

Leesil slowly became aware that he was standing up against the wall beyond the foot of the bed, Brenden pinning him in place. One of his own hands was pushing feebly against the large man's chest, trying to drive him off. The other, its wrist smeared with his own blood and Magiere's saliva, was outstretched toward the bed. Magiere, now crouched on the bed, snarled once at the blacksmith, but her eyes were on Leesil. As he looked at her, he felt a sudden wave of anguish for abandoning her there. Everything around him was blurred and faint but her.

She looked at him with hunger, then her mouth slowly closed. Black irises shrank, and Leesil noticed their color for the first time that he could remember. They were a deep brown, as rich as the soil of his homeland. Her gaze shifted to his outstretched hand and its bleeding wrist.

"Leesil?" Magiere pulled back, shrinking away from him across the bed into the corner against the wall. She huddled there, trembling, and could not take her gaze off his wrist until he finally lowered his arm.

"Good," another voice said. "Good lad."

Leesil rolled his head toward the sound of that voice, and found Welstiel still standing in the cottage doorway. The man pulled a small jar from the pocket of his cloak and tossed it to Brenden. The blacksmith released one grip on Leesil's shoulders and caught the jar with his large hand.

"Put this salve on his face and wrist, and on the majay-hi's wounds," Welstiel told Brenden. "They will both heal faster. Have them eat as much meat, cheese, and fruit as you can get over the next few days, and make sure the half-elf has no wine or ale. It will only thin his blood, and the dhampir may need him."

Leesil suddenly felt tired and ill. What had he just done? The sensation of Magiere's mouth on his arm still lingered and he tried to speak.

"What's a majay-hi?" he managed to whisper.

Welstiel watched Magiere for a long moment, and then looked at Leesil.

"The dog. It's the elven name for your dog."

Leesil realized he was now sitting on the floor, Brenden having lowered him. He turned his head toward the bed again.

"Magiere sat up in confusion now. Her hands came up to her throat, and when she felt the bandages there, she began pulling them off. Her fingers moved slowly over the exposed skin. Though there was blood still caked around her neck, Leesil could see no sign of the wound except a thin red line across her skin.

She looked at Leesil, then down at his wrist where Brenden was smearing the salve from the jar. Her fingers touched the side of her mouth, feeling a wet smear. Again, her expression changed to fear.

"What did you do?" she asked. "Leesil, what have you done?"

Leesil turned to Brenden. "Food. Go. Get us some food. I'll see to Chap."

As if unable to endure any more of the scene, Brenden let go of Leesil, and stormed out the door. Welstiel was already gone. No one had noticed him leave.

Using his hands to push himself up, Leesil stood and tottered once but remained on his feet. With the exception of Chap, he and Magiere were alone.

"What did you do?" she repeated.

"You were dying. I did what he told me to."

She took in the sight of his face and wrist with greater comprehension. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing. I can bandage myself."

Memories seemed to be returning, and she touched her throat again. "I was fighting. He cut me and then… what happened?"

The full weight and length of the tale was more than Leesil could manage. It overwhelmed him. Standing became even more of an effort.

"Such a long story," he whispered. "Too long for tonight."

She turned away from him. She appeared weak and pale, but otherwise all right. Slowly, she climbed off the bed, but did not approach him. How much did she remember of his feeding her? He wanted her to remember all of it.

She began pacing. Glancing at his wrist again, her expression turned to… embarrassment. Is that what she felt?

"I can't… I can't be here," she said. "If you are all right… and Chap?"

He felt too empty to argue. "I'll take care of him."

No coaxing was needed. Magiere picked her falchion off the floor where Brenden had dropped it, but