Bloodthorn Page 6

  “Terminus,” Heidel said, “is the bloodthorn capable of changing its shape?”

  “Yes, but it is limited as to what it can emulate. Because it is a creature of complete darkness, it can only transform into other dark creatures.”

  “So, it couldn’t be a human?”

  “No.”

  Princess Esmelda eyed her brother. “But you do not know for sure. You’ve never actually seen one of these beasts, have you?”

  “My knowledge comes from the ancient scrolls, written by traveling fairies who have seen them.”

  “No,” she said, “I, too, have read the scrolls, and not one fairy admits to seeing it with their own eyes. Their knowledge comes from others who claimed to have seen it.”

  “What else do these scrolls say?” I asked. “Do they describe how the creature survives? Or how it kills? Or even if it kills?”

  “It is not as detailed as we would like,” Terminus answered. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I suspect that it—or something like it—killed a man who was left in my booth last night.”

  “In your booth?” the prince asked.

  “Yes. I found a man’s body in my booth this morning. His corpse was wrapped in thorns, and he had purple flowers in his eye sockets. And… his eyes had been gouged out.”

  “Removed completely?” Heidel asked.

  I nodded.

  “This sounds like the work of a phøca—a Celtic black horse—a presence that once haunted my people. It’s a shape changer that takes the form of a black horse wearing chains. It takes the eyes because it believes they are portals, and it would use them to return to its realm.”

  “Strange,” I said. “Whatever this creature is—be it fairy or mortal—it’s certainly dangerous. Until we know more about it, I’m not sure how to confront it or how to take the stone from it. If it even has it to begin with. We need more information.”

  I turned to Terminus. “Isn’t there anything more you can tell me? The purple flowers—could they have any significance?”

  He pondered my question. “What did these flowers look like?” he asked.

  “Purple, with one petal longer than the others that seemed to droop over the rest.”

  He held out his hand. Magic ignited, and purple-and-silver sparkles spiraled over his palm until a flower formed. “Did it look like this?” he asked.

  I studied the flower. “No. For one thing, it’s too small, and the petal on top was more pronounced.”

  He knitted his brows in concentration as another flower formed, almost an exact match to the ones I’d seen in Mr. Duncan’s eyes.

  “That’s it,” I said. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Monkshood,” he said. “They are called this because of the petal on the top that folds down like a monk’s hood. They are extremely poisonous.”

  He handed it to me.

  “Do you know its meaning?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  He glanced nervously at his sister.

  “Are you certain you saw this flower?” Esmelda asked.

  “Yes. It’s hard to mistake. It was this flower.”

  “This does not bode well,” Esmelda said.

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Terminus said, “the meaning for monkshood is ‘beware, an evil presence is near’.”

  The wind picked up outside. I stared at the flower sitting in the palm of my hand. It seemed so innocent, yet its meaning sent shivers down my spine. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a muffled voice coming from Kull’s room.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked. “Should someone check on His Highness?”

  “Nay,” Brodnik answered. “He’s resting.”

  “He’d be angry if we woke him,” Rolf added.

  Heidel raised an eyebrow. “Yet he usually can’t keep quiet to save his life, especially when he’s been injured. Why has he not made a fuss yet?”

  Were they really not going to check on him? After he’d bled out all over the floor? While he was most likely passed out from blood loss?

  “Her Majesty would be upset if anything happened to him,” Rolf said.

  Her Majesty? Who is Her Majesty? His mother, most likely.

  “He probably scratched his arm on a briar in the forest. There is no need to check on him,” Heidel answered. “Now, can we leave the subject of my brother alone and concentrate on what is more important? This is what we know of the creature so far—it has stolen the fairies’ stone and prefers removing the eyes of its victim.”

  “Yes,” Prince Terminus answered, “and we know that the bloodthorn beast had reason to take our stone.”

  “And,” Rolf added, “we know that the phøca removes the eyes of its victims.”

  “You also said that it’s a shape changer, which means it would have an easy way of hiding its identity,” I said.

  “So, which one is it?” Heidel asked. “A bloodthorn or a phøca?”

  “Or none of them,” Brodnik said.

  “Or a mix of the two?” Rolf added.

  “I believe it was the bloodthorn who killed this man,” Esmelda said, “and I believe he did it to send us a message. He knows we are looking for him.”

  “I agree,” Terminus said. “It must be the bloodthorn who did this.”

  “If that is so,” Rolf said, “then how do we find him?”

  “Or her,” Heidel added. “It could be in any form.”

  “My ring is the key,” Esmelda said. “Whoever this creature is, he will be searching for my ring. He may not be able to activate the stone without it.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “No, it’s merely speculation on my part. However, the larger stone is not complete without my ring.”

  “If that’s the case,” I said, “then the ring puts you in harm’s way. Perhaps you should hide it.”

  “No,” Prince Terminus said. “There is nowhere safe. Let me wear the ring instead.”

  “No, Brother. The ring was gifted to me. This is my responsibility.”

  “What if I wear it?” I said. “My magic is strong enough to defend the ring if necessary.”

  “Are you sure?” the princess asked.

  “Yes. You can’t use your magic to cause harm, but I can. If the beast comes after me, I’ll be prepared.”

  The princess hesitated, as if trying to make up her mind, and then handed the ring to me. I slipped it on my finger, feeling its weight and magic as it mingled with mine. Its presence caught me off guard. This was a raw power, alive and viscous, and very aware of me.

  “Olive,” Prince Terminus said, “the ring is too dangerous for you to wear. Please, let me be its keeper. We have already burdened you enough as it is.”

  “No, Brother,” the princess said. “I trust her to wear it. Besides, you cannot use your magic for defense—you know that. It is better to let her wear it.”

  He looked as if he wanted to argue but held his tongue.

  Glancing at the entrance to Kull’s chamber, I wondered why it was so quiet back there. At the rate he was bleeding out, he could be dead in three minutes. For goodness’ sake, why aren’t they checking on the man?

  “Can’t we check on him now?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure he’s not okay.”

  A smile spread across Heidel’s face, as if something had just dawned on her. “That is a perfect idea. Olive—you must go and check on him.”

  “Yes, you!” the two Wults pitched in. “You must go to him, Olive.”

  “Me? Why me? Why can’t one of you check on him?”

  Heidel stood, grabbed my hand, pried me from my chair, and then pushed me toward Kull’s chamber.

  “But… no! I wasn’t volunteering myself—I thought perhaps it should be one of you.”

  “She is a healer, isn’t she?” Brodnik said to Rolf.

  “Indeed. This is the only solution. Her Majesty will be pleased that we didn’t let him perish.”

  “Will she?” Heidel said as she looked over her sh
oulder.

  The two Wult men chuckled. “Perhaps she would be happier if we left him to his misfortune.”

  “Yes, perhaps she would,” I answered. My hands, slick with sweat, trembled as Heidel pulled me the rest of the way to the door. I ground my teeth and dug my heels into the floor. I would not go into that room with that man. I refused.

  “He… needs… your help,” Heidel grunted as she pushed me.

  “No he doesn’t!”

  Heidel grabbed the hanging vines that formed the door, moved them aside, and peeked through the opening.

  Kull lay passed out on the floor in a large pool of his own blood. He did not move, nor did I see any signs of breathing.

  He’s dead. We’re too late.

  Chapter Six

  Heidel, her eyes wide with shock, stood beside me as we gathered around Kull in the light of the fairy flowers.

  “Is he dead?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know.” I fumbled my cell out of my pocket and gave it to her. “Call nine-one-one.”

  “Who?”

  “Just push the numbers. Tell them we’re at the festival campgrounds and your brother is unconscious. Ask if he can be life-flighted out of here.”

  She probably didn’t understand half the words I’d said, but it didn’t matter as long as she relayed the message.

  Kull lay on the ground in a pool of his own blood, his skin so pale it looked gray.

  Stupid, stupid, Kull. Why had he let himself get this bad? And what had happened to him in the first place?

  “Kull, can you hear me?” I said as I knelt beside him.

  He’d covered the wound with strips of white gauze, but the blood had soaked though the bandages. I carefully moved the gauze and found muscle and tendons where his flesh had been sliced open. He’d possibly damaged his brachial artery, and if that were the case, it wasn’t good.

  This hadn’t been caused by any thornbush.

  Instinctively, I grabbed more clean bandages from a bag near the bed and began wrapping them tightly around the wound. The blood only trickled free, making me hope that I had more time than I thought. Or maybe he’d bled out already.

  My hands trembled as I grabbed his wrist to feel for his pulse.

  Why was I trembling? From fear? Why did I even care?

  Behind me, Heidel yelled at the phone, but I was beginning to believe it was too late for help. I couldn’t find a pulse. Hoping to have better luck, I moved to his other wrist. Still, no pulse.

  Finally, I found a very weak pulse in his neck. He was alive, but barely.

  The other Wults and fairies watched through the doorway. No one spoke except Heidel, who, after muttering a few unrepeatable words, slammed my phone to the ground, drew her sword, and stabbed it through the screen.

  I wanted to be upset, but my emotions were so off the charts I only stared blankly at the ruined piece of technology on the ground.

  “The machine was not functioning,” she said. “You must heal him without this cursed device’s help.”

  Forcing my mind to stay calm was getting harder to do as I faced her brother. No phone. No outside help. He would die. I knew he would die, yet somehow I still held out hope that I could save him.

  I needed a healing spell, but what enchantment could I possibly use that would restore his blood volume? I cursed myself for not learning more healing spells. I’d healed Heidel once, but that was without the need to replace her blood volume. What could I do to help him?

  With my fingers still pressed to his neck, I felt the pulse slowly weaken, and I wasn’t sure what to do as I once again applied pressure to the wound through the gauze.

  I looked up at the two fairies huddled in the doorway. “Can’t you do something? A healing spell?”

  They glanced nervously at me. “There is dark magic in his wound. We cannot touch it.”

  “Dark magic?”

  I focused my full attention on his wound and found it tainted with a dark power. Why hadn’t I sensed it sooner? How had it gotten there?

  “Surely there is something you can do?” I asked the fairies.

  Esmelda took a cautious step toward me. “We cannot touch the taint of black magic without our gemstone to absorb the dark power.”

  The two Wult men knelt beside me and held a blanket to Kull’s arm.

  “Can’t you use your magic?” Brodnik asked me.

  “I… I might make him worse.”

  “He can’t get too much worse, can he?” Brodnik said.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure.” My mind was in a strange place. It didn’t seem to want to make sense of the world around me, which I was fairly certain gave me a diagnosis of mental instability and made me completely incompetent as a healer.

  Without realizing that I’d called it, magic streamed in waves of amber and blue from my fingertips. It enveloped me, filling me with energy, and then encircled Kull.

  The magic controlled my movements as I reached for him. The wound in his arm was long and deep. Nothing but surgery would have had the ability to repair the ripped artery, yet as my fingertips touched his skin, the flesh began to knit back together.

  Fear filled me momentarily as I watched the process of Kull’s flesh healing. How was I doing this? The magic was working on its own—I wasn’t controlling it. But I kept my hand over the wound until the last bits of torn flesh had re-formed.

  When the magic receded, I stumbled back, my heart beating with a wild cadence in my chest. Sweat beaded on my forehead. That shouldn’t have been possible. Magic wasn’t supposed to work independently of the practitioner. Something was wrong with me. Seriously wrong.

  Kull inhaled, his face becoming less pale as air filled his lungs.

  The two Wults beside me stared at him. Brodnik shook his shoulder gently. “Sir,” he said. “Can you hear me?”

  Kull didn’t open his eyes.

  “Perhaps we should let him rest,” I said.

  “Will he be okay?” Rolf asked.

  “I can’t say for sure. But he’ll live for now.”

  The sound of someone shouting came from outside the tent, turning our focus to the tent’s front flap.

  “Who’s out there?” Esmelda asked her brother.

  Terminus shook his head.

  “Hello! Is anyone in there?” came a man’s voice.

  “I’ll check,” I said, then stood and left Kull behind me.

  To be honest, I was thankful for the distraction. Kull’s injury left me with another mystery. Who—or what—had injured him? In my life, I’d only seen one creature take down Kull like that—a Regaymor—a crazy-powerful spirit being from an unknown dimension. Even more troubling, how in the great universe had I healed him?

  After crossing through the main room, I stopped by the tent’s opening and moved the flap aside. Jordan Young, also known as Eros the Irresistible, stood outside. Usually he wore Goth makeup, leather pants, and a bare chest, but today, he thankfully wore a black T-shirt and jeans. Minus the makeup, he almost looked normal.

  Jordan stood a little shorter than me. Although the rain had died down, his dark hair was damp and smelled of unwashed scalp.

  “Hi Olive,” he said with a wink. “Did you miss me?”

  I did my best not to roll my eyes. “What do you want, Jordan?”

  “I thought you should know they’re reopening in an hour.”

  “So soon? Did they finish the investigation already?”

  “No idea. But you should probably get your booth set up as soon as you can. The crowd will probably be huge, so you’ll want to do it now rather than wait.” He stared up at the tent. “When did you get this thing set up? I thought you were staying in the trailer.”

  “I am. I just… I had some friends stop by.”

  “Friends?”

  “Yeah, from out of town.”

  “Are they performers? I thought only hired crew were allowed to camp back here.”

  “Oh, well…”

  “Have I met them?” he asked, looki
ng past me.

  “No. Not yet. They’re fairies, some of them, and barbarians—very authentic.”

  “Why haven’t I met them yet? I know everyone in this place.”

  “How could you possibly know everyone?”

  He shrugged. “I pay attention. So, why can’t I see them now?”

  “They’re a little busy. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll see them soon.”

  “Can I come inside?”

  Dude, why can’t this guy take a hint?

  “I think it would be best for you to go now. I’ll see you back at the festival, okay?”

  “All right,” he said and then turned away.

  I let the tent flap fall closed and turned to find Princess Esmelda standing behind me.

  “Who was it?”

  “His name is Jordan Young, although you’ll probably get to know him as Eros the Irresistible.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Irresistible?”

  “Yeah, I know. He’s an odd character.”

  “How so?”

  I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her about him. He was my patient, after all, and there was this thing called doctor-patient confidentiality that I was sworn to abide by. However, because he was my patient, he was now also a suspect in the murder of Mr. Duncan. Maybe the princess could help me determine if he was more than that.

  “For one thing,” I said, “he’s been to Faythander. I already performed the first spellcasting, and it confirmed that he’s been there. But he wouldn’t let me perform the second test that would replay his memories.”

  “He wouldn’t let you? Do you think perhaps he’s hiding something?”

  “It’s quite likely. He wouldn’t have any memories of Faythander, so he may not remember everything, but if he went there with a specific purpose in mind, then he would at least have some knowledge of what went on while he was there.”

  “But how would he have gotten there? And how would he have known of Faythander in the first place?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have any answers, and there’s only one way to get them—I’ll have to ask him. He may not like it.”

  “But what if he tries to harm you?”

  “Then I’ll have to be careful.”

  She gave me a pensive glare. “I think it is too risky. You should let the Wults accompany you.”