Promises to Keep - By Amelia Atwater-Rhodes Page 0,41
considered rude to ask at SingleEarth, but … what are you?”
Brina blinked at her, startled. “I’m … not sure right now.”
“Not sure?”
“I imagine that’s why I was brought here.”
“Then you could be at risk,” the nurse said. “If you’re not already ill, you shouldn’t be here. You’ll be exposed.”
“I’ve had the plague before,” Brina whispered.
“Then maybe you’re—” The human broke off, frowned, and finally asked, “I’m sorry, are you a resident here?”
Brina wasn’t listening anymore. She needed to see what was happening.
She followed meandering paths through the sick, taking note of all the colors around her. Onyx hair, fair skin, and eyes like emeralds. It wasn’t the fever that made the skin seem pearlescent and the eyes that tracked her movement with dazed hope look like polished gems; it was the distinctive coloration of a serpent shapeshifter. At another pallet, she glimpsed feathers beneath the sweat-matted hair of a young boy whose brown hair and hazel eyes suggested he was probably a sparrow. Next, a mane of rich auburn, shorn short—a fox, a rare breed to find out of their enclave.
Brina had hundreds of years of practice; she knew how to recognize an individual’s breed and state of health at sight. She wouldn’t have paid a pence for any of these pitiful creatures if they had been human, and since they weren’t, they shouldn’t have been in this condition. Only magic could do this to the nonhuman.
At the next bed, she found a young woman who was kneeling to tend the sick. Her head was bowed and her hands were splayed in front of her on the floor, as if that was all that was keeping her from toppling over on top of the unconscious shapeshifter in front of her.
“Whose spell is it?” Brina asked.
“Spell?” the kneeling girl echoed, without seeming to comprehend.
Brina resisted the urge to kick the girl to get her attention, but only because doing so would probably knock her over. Instead, she said as clearly as possible, “Yes, spell. They cannot just be sick.”
Saying the word drove another chill through her, brought a memory of a wailing baby. She pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time.
There is no good time to remember that day.
“They are sick,” the girl snapped in response. She shoved herself to her feet, only to stumble and nearly fall. Brina jumped back, narrowly eluding the woman’s fever-hot hands as she sought some way to balance herself.
The would-be healer glared at Brina with blue eyes that then widened as she said, “Brina.” Before Brina could correct her, the girl said, “Lady Brina. Whatever you call yourself. You should be sleeping. I put you to sleep. Used my power.”
“You do not look like you have the power to put a mouse to sleep,” Brina observed. The girl must have fancied herself a witch, one of those who supposedly ran this SingleEarth place. “Tell me what has happened to me, and what has happened here, before you faint.” The girl’s face was already pale, and her lips had that cerulean hue that suggested unconsciousness was imminent.
“Caryn, you shouldn’t be up,” another voice said. Brina bristled as a young man pushed his way past her, jostling her without apology as he hurried to take the sick witch into his arms.
“I need to do something,” the girl responded.
“Your fever is back,” the solicitous young man said.
“Can’t focus my magic,” Caryn whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Some of the shapeshifters are responding to human medication. I know you said these medications don’t normally do anything for your kind, but you’re going to try.”
She nodded, but then added, “Only treats the symptoms.”
“The symptoms are boiling your brain,” Brina interjected. “You need a witch.”
“I am a witch!” the girl snapped, showing previously unseen spirit.
“You’re a useless witch,” Brina replied.
“Who are you?” the boy demanded.
“I am Lady Brina di’Birgetta,” she replied, drawing up to her full height. “In the last day, I have had my property stolen and been assaulted in my own home, and now I’ve been abducted and brought to this plague ward against my will. I have been as patient as I intend to be, and now I demand to know what is going on.”
The boy just stared at her.
“Are you simple?” she asked.
“She’s a vampire,” the little witch whispered to him. “Or was. Jay brought her in.”
“Jay,” the boy answered, shaking his head. “He—” He broke off, his face going pale as he asked slowly, “May I ask what century?”
“Not the time for historical curiosity,” Caryn