Bloodwitch (16 page)

For the first time since I had left the greenhouse, the nightmares were gone, which meant that despite all the
hard work I felt better than I had since coming to Midnight proper.

I saw Mistress Jeshickah whenever she took one of the horses out to ride. She rarely spoke to me directly, but I saw the approval in her gaze when she saw the attention I gave to my task. After the second day she gave me permission to ride again—short trips, when the horses needed to be exercised, but it was enough encouragement for me.

A little less than a week later, the blood nightmares returned. I knew the treatment for them was a simple one, and I contemplated pursuing it myself. There were plenty of sharp tools in the stables’ workroom.

I didn’t dare bleed there, though. Blood attracted rats and flies, both dangerous pests in a stable.

Besides, my blood had value. To the Azteka it was holy. Here, it was a gift I could give to those who had raised me.
Sacrifice
, I thought,
but not to the Azteka goddess Malinalxochitl
. I had seen Calysta give blood many times; Lady Brina had said that a shapeshifter’s blood was powerful and inspiring, richer than a human’s. Surely mine would be worth something.

I didn’t dare approach Mistress Jeshickah, but I found the nerve to go to Jaguar. I wasn’t worried about the blood donation itself. Calysta had always walked away fine—

Until she killed herself
.

No. That hadn’t had anything to do with Lady Brina feeding on her. Calysta had given blood on dozens of occasions,
perhaps hundreds, in the time I had known her. I still didn’t understand why she had killed herself. I thought it had something to do with Malachi and the painting. But it wasn’t because of the blood.

But who was I to propose this to Jaguar?

A free man
, I thought. If I were a slave, they would all know they could just take what they wanted. It was my right to offer—or refuse—as I chose.

“My blood has too much power,” I said to Jaguar, my voice wavering just a little. “If I understand right, I could just take a knife and let the blood fall into the dirt somewhere and I would be fine. But I’d rather not waste it. Unless you think it should be so.”

Jaguar didn’t hesitate long. He pushed my hair gently off my throat, but the grip he used to hold me in place was harder than it needed to be. I wasn’t going to try to escape.

Unless it hurt?

I tensed and tried to brace myself, thinking that even if it
did
hurt I wouldn’t struggle.

There was a pinching feeling at my throat at first, but that went away quickly. The bite itself grew numb, though a tingling sensation spread across the rest of my body. I had to fight to keep still, not because I was in pain, but because it
tickled
, especially in places like my wrists, where I normally felt my pulse. I wanted to scratch at that spot, but Jaguar was holding on to my arms in a way that kept me from doing so.

Jaguar often laughed, but after he pulled back I heard him giggle for the first time.

He dropped me negligently, so that I nearly fell, and I almost objected before he stumbled back and his shoulders hit the wall with a thud. With his eyes closed and his head bowed, he bit his lip and took a deep breath, as if he were struggling to control himself.

Then he giggled again and slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

Dizzy, I decided I would join him, but he waved me away.

“No, go,” he said. “Get out of here, or I’ll take too much. You …” He trailed off and shook his head. “I guess you might be worth keeping around after all. Go, go, go. Wait. Go to the kitchens. You should eat something. They’ll know what to give you. Then lie down for a while. Don’t go back to work today. I took more than I should have.”

He didn’t seem worried, just cautious, so only one thought crossed my mind after all those instructions:
Free time?
Apparently I had done something right.

I stumbled and slid my way down to the kitchens, fighting occasional spells of dizziness. Despite my excitement for free time, I ended up eating and drinking what they gave me mechanically. I didn’t have the energy to go back to my room above the stables, so I let them put me to bed in one of the vacant cots in the east wing.

If I had dreams, they disappeared into the mist when I opened my eyes.

I was still a little groggy when I woke, and very thirsty, but the nameless, voiceless humans who lingered around me provided everything I wanted before I even asked for it. Once I felt capable of walking, and my attendants declared it safe for me to do so, I wasn’t sure where to go.

What did I want to do? In the greenhouse as well as here, I hadn’t ever had many hobbies beyond my chores. I didn’t dare ride, not when my head still felt a little floaty if I moved too fast.

I should check on Felix
, I decided,
and Elisabeth
.

I wasn’t sure where to find Felix, so I started in the infirmary. They would know when he had been released, and might know where he had gone to work. Barefoot and wild-haired, I padded down the hall.

It was midday, a time when most vampires slept, and even the infirmary was quiet. There was one sleepy-eyed slave present, who greeted me with a nod and a “sir,” but otherwise the main room was empty. The bloody water and cloths used to wash Felix’s wounds had been cleaned up, and all the herbs, poultices, and salves were arranged neatly on the shelves. Where there had been anxiety and carnage, I now found sterile stillness, as if the previous week’s violence had never happened.

The next room was starkly utilitarian, like the cells in
the east wing. Gray stone walls and floor, with six cots, half of which were currently occupied. The blankets atop them were gray-brown, practical things, without embroidery or quilting.

Three people looked up at me the moment I stepped through the door.

The first was a boy, probably several years younger than me. From brow to jaw, one side of his face was livid indigo and cranberry, dark bruises that had swollen one of his eyes mostly shut.

Did he fall?
I wondered.
Or did someone do this to him?

The second cot held a woman. She wasn’t
old
, but she had fine lines at the sides of her mouth and on her brow. Her face was flushed, and she had pushed the blanket off her shoulders.

Felix was in the third cot. When I looked at him, he said something, but the words were meaningless to me.

I leaned close, trying to make sense of the whispered sounds.

“Te extraño, niña.”

If he was speaking any language but gibberish, I didn’t recognize it.

I could feel the heat rising off his body, and my nose caught the rank smell of sweat and decay. It brought back the memory of the scalding river in my nightmare. I reeled and retreated to the main infirmary room. I asked the slave there, “Will Felix be all right?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s unlikely,” he replied. “He rallied for a little while, but then the infection took hold. Mistress Jeshickah has approved the best medicines for him, but we cannot seem to clear the blood poisoning.”

It had been more than a week. Had he been here all this time?

“What happened to the other two?” I asked in a daze.

“The woman has childbed fever,” he answered, “but I believe she will recover soon. The boy was impertinent with Lord Daryl.”

I realized then that I had seen the boy before. He had come and gone with Lady Brina, and the bruises he wore now were newer versions of the ones I had seen then. I wondered how Lord Daryl defined “impertinent,” and whether the boy’s trespass had been any more severe than my own.

As serious as Felix’s?

Felix himself had agreed that his punishment was appropriate. If
he
didn’t complain, who was I to question?

Te extraño, niña
.

I shook my head. I didn’t know what those words meant, if they were even words, but they haunted me. What about Elisabeth? Jaguar had assured me that she would be fine, but I needed to know.

I tried unsuccessfully to turn the doorknob before I decided to knock instead. I let my knuckles rap gently against the dark wood paneling a couple of times before it occurred to me that Jaguar was probably asleep at this hour.

Celeste opened the door. Her hair was rumpled, and the long, heavy dress she was wearing was made of soft, thick cotton, suitable for a nightgown. I had woken her, too.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wanted to speak to Jaguar.”

Jaguar stepped up behind Celeste. He whispered something to her, and she retreated into the room. Jaguar yawned and said, “Vance. Are you unwell?”

“N-no,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I wanted to check on Elisabeth. Felix is very ill. I just …” I trailed off.

“Elisabeth is fine, just as I assured you she would be,” Jaguar answered. “As for Felix, no matter how diligent the hands are, stables are never sterile. The whip that tore Felix’s flesh had been hanging there for weeks, unused, but exposed to all the pestilence that exists in such a place. The healers will do what they can, but if he is still ill after this much time, you should prepare yourself.”

“You think he’ll die?”

“That’s what humans
do
,” Jaguar replied. “They’re not immortal. They die from sickness, from frailty, from age. They accept their deaths as inevitable, and so must you.” His words were even blunter than usual, probably because he obviously wanted to go back to bed. “I will let Elisabeth know of your concern and send her to see you later. Now go away.”

The door shut in my face.

I didn’t want to go back to bed, but my body didn’t seem able to stay up, either. I was simultaneously restless and exhausted. I went to my room to sleep a little longer, but by late afternoon I couldn’t resist the pull of the horses downstairs or of the work I knew still needed to get done.

The first time I reached up to take down one of the heavy saddles, my vision blackened and my knees buckled. I sat down abruptly on the floor and put my head between my legs. Just a lingering effect of blood loss? Or something worse?

The dizzy spell passed and I looked up to find one of the stable hands standing over me. He informed me that Jaguar had assigned him to keep an eye on me if I came back to the stables, and explained that I should sit and wait, since someone had already gone to fetch him. I didn’t have a chance to protest that Jaguar was sleeping and I didn’t want to bother him.

Instead of Jaguar it was Taro who came to pull me gently to my feet. I braced myself for another scathing, disappointed talk from my old guardian, like the one I’d had with Jaguar when I first woke from my accident. I hadn’t seen my old guardian since he had turned me over to Jaguar’s care. Now he looked down to where I sat with my butt in the straw.

Tone gentle, he said, “He shouldn’t have let you come back to work so soon. Come, Vance. I’ll have someone replace you.”

I stood and then swayed; the movement had been too quick, in my condition. Taro responded by picking me up.

“You’re in bad shape, dear quetzal,” he said. “If it weren’t for your shapeshifter’s constitution, you would still be unconscious, or worse. Relax for a few days. I will speak to Mistress Jeshickah, and if it is in your best interests to let you become a bleeder, we will adjust your work schedule accordingly.”

“I saw people leave the greenhouse after Lady Brina fed,” I said. “Even the humans were in better shape than I am now.”

“Lady Brina apparently has better restraint than our Jaguar,” Taro said dryly. “Also, we normally do not have children donate. Azteka or not, you are still only fourteen. We need to balance the needs of your power with the limitations of your body.”

BY THE NEXT
day I felt well enough to attend to some of the lighter chores in the stables. The slaves there told me I had been excused from that work, but I enjoyed finding tasks to busy my hands and mind.

As Jaguar had promised, Elisabeth came to see me.

“Master Jaguar told me that I should visit you and let you know that I am at your disposal. Anything you wish I shall do my best to provide. I am also to explain that his time may be more limited for a while as he is occupied with a new project.”

“What kind of project?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. I do not know.”

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with her. Was this some test of Jaguar’s, to see what I would do with responsibility? She was wearing a slave’s collar now, I noticed.
When I asked why she hadn’t been when I first saw her, she informed me that she hadn’t earned it yet then.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” she answered. “I’m sorry.” She dropped her gaze.

“It means she’s proven herself,” volunteered one of the shapeshifter guards, who had come in a few minutes ago and was now brushing down his horse. “That’s what the trainers mean when they say a ‘project,’ ” he added. “It means someone was sold to them, and they’re working on teaching that person his or her place. No one really knows what goes on in a trainer’s cell, except the trainers and the slaves, of course. For folk like us it’s better not to give it too much thought.”