Influence, p.2
Influence, page 2
part #9 of Beginning's End Series
Against his feelings for the young woman, no other miracles could compare.
The barrier vanished as she rose quickly to her feet and closed the distance between them, reaching for his hand and holding on as tightly as she dared. In hindsight, she would always regret doing this first. Her hands were not what they used to be; she should have kept them safely in her cloak. But he gripped her fingers without thought or consideration, letting the waves of emotion crash over them both, until the worst of it passed, and they were sated, quiet, and calm.
The immortals were incredulous, then strangely unsurprised. Of all the wonders they’d seen throughout their endless years, few things could compare with the shocking resilience of mortals.
Evander merely sank into the snowbank, running his tongue over his teeth, while Eden let out a quiet breath and covered his face with both hands—inadvertently smearing his cheeks with bright stains of the wolf’s blood. At that point, there was a good chance he was silent-screaming into his palms, but when he looked up again, he was smiling. Tired, but smiling.
“I am unused to being the sensible one. We have travelled together too long.”
We have travelled together too long.
Kiera bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile.
That should be our group motto.
“No one would ever call you sensible,” Jesse assured him, flashing an irascible grin over his shoulder. Another drip of blood spilled from his hair. “And I would have thought you were quite used to the peculiarities of mortals, given the almost embarrassing span of time you’ve been alive.”
The others chuckled obligingly, but the humor was gone. Their senses had been stolen by that burst of dragon fire, but a trail of Jesse’s blood had followed them from the mountain.
The wolf was in need of his own miracle.
“The peculiarities of mortals,” Eden repeated under his breath, lifting from the snow and settling casually behind him. With gentle fingers, he parted the shifter’s dark hair and tilted forward his head. “One is shooting fire from her hands, and the other cracked open his skull. If I had known what trouble you would bring, I would have requested a manual...”
He trailed off upon seeing the damage that lay before him, those lovely eyes widening in silent astonishment that the wolf was able to speak at all. Jesse felt the change and stiffened beneath his hands, turning his face ever so slightly to the side. “How bad is it? You can tell me.”
Kiera looked for herself, then turned ghostly pale.
Don’t tell him.
“I have seen worse,” Eden replied lightly, easing them closer together. “Lean back a little, and look forward. It is difficult enough to see in this light.” The shifter obeyed and he worked a few seconds in silence, probing the edge of the wound as he tried to gauge its depths. “Like I said, many have come back from worse.” He meant it to sound reassuring, but his voice was tighter than it had been before. He flexed his fingers, watching carefully. “Does it hurt more or less, when I do this?”
Jesse sat there a moment, then glanced back in surprise. “Have you started? I feel nothing.”
There was a slight pause, then Eden flashed a quick smile. “That’s good.”
No, it really isn’t.
The minutes dragged slowly past, as the fae continued working in silence. His hands were calm and steady, but his panic must have been rising, because after only a minute more, the vampire rose to his feet and settled beside him. He lifted a comforting hand, resting it on his lover’s back.
“This is beyond my skills,” Eden said quietly, glancing around with a hint of desperation for anything that might be used to help. “I’m not a healer.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d said such a thing, and this was a wound unlike any they’d dealt with before. A hurt that affected not just the body, but the mind. A coma, Evander had called it, before they’d been beset with monsters and were trekking through the snow. Something beyond the reaches of modern medicine. Something even a draught of vampiric blood couldn’t fix.
“Do you see this?” Eden murmured, angling his body so the vampire might have a better view. “It must be closed, but I haven’t...” He lowered his voice, eyes flickering anxiously to the back of the shifter’s head. “I don’t know what it might cost him.”
Cost him?
There were a few words one didn’t want to hear, when dealing with a head injury. Cost was near the top of that list. Kiera’s eyes darted between them, desperate for any clues as to what exactly it meant. Would it cost him blood? Would it cost him speech? Would it cost him something more?
“You know that I can hear you,” Jesse said loudly. “You know that I’m sitting right here.”
“Your head is broken, Jesse,” the fae answered dismissively, raking back his own hair. “Even if you heard us speaking, it’s highly unlikely you could understand.”
The shifter rolled his eyes and flashed a conspiratorial grin at Kiera. She tried to smile in return, but settled for tightening her grip on his fingers, squeezing as hard as she dared.
“You must close it,” Evander replied simply, that quiet pragmatism cutting to the quick. “It will not fix on its own, and he will continue to bleed the longer it remains open.” He saw the look that passed across Eden’s face, and softened. “It’s not so far, my love. Just the length of a finger—”
“Yes, alright.” The fae nodded with sudden briskness, lifting onto his knees and reaching out both hands. They fastened around the crown of Jesse’s head with a grip that seemed immovable, yet there was nothing in the world more gentle. His voice, when he spoke again, was smooth as silk, hiding the warring terrors flickering in his eyes. “I’m going to begin now. Are you ready?”
Jesse tensed with sudden dread, then nodded. His body was rigid as a stone.
I’m surprised he even told him. He probably just wants him to hold still.
“Where is that lake you were telling me about?” Eden continued lightly, as if the question had just occurred to him. “The one where you fished as a boy?”
There was a beat of silence, then Jesse’s eyes flicked to the side.
“I’m surprised you remember that. It was at a bend in the Tessalas River. The one that winds along Briarstone Pass. It is impossible to reach in the winter, but when spring comes—”
There was a sudden crack, followed by a hoarse cry.
“Seven hells!” Jesse wrenched himself free of the fae’s grip, twisting with a scathing glare as a cringing hand lifted to the back of his head. It touched the hair, then retreated. “That hurts.”
Eden beamed back at him, relieved beyond measure. “That’s wonderful, Jesse!”
A beat of silence hummed between them.
“I want a different healer.”
If there hadn’t been so much fear wrapped up in what they were doing, Kiera might have laughed. If the shifter’s defiant face wasn’t still twisted in pain, stained with fresh blood.
Eden wilted ever so slightly. “But it’s—”
“Go sit over there.”
She laughed then, it was impossible not to. Relief coursed through her like a flood, lifting her off the ground and propelling her into a flurry of activities. His cloak was fastened, but it could hang straighter on his shoulders. His boots could be tighter, his hand needed another squeeze.
The fae melted back with a rueful grin as the vampire eased into his place—tearing a strip of fabric from the thickest part of his satchel and wrapping it tightly around the shifter’s head. The finished effect was strangely reminiscent of the weather-hardened sailors they’d seen drinking at the tavern in Shia, but it seemed to do the trick. With a final rush of blood, the wound sealed shut.
Thank the gods!
She wasn’t sure she’d ever stop thinking it. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to doubt them again. He should have been dead, but he was breathing. Laughing, teasing. They all should have been dead—a thousand times over. But somehow, rather impossibly, they were alive.
Evander leaned back slowly, not seeming to notice the blood dripping down his hands.
He alone hadn’t participated in any kind of celebration. While the others were talking and planning, his eyes were fixed upon the makeshift bandage and his lips were pressed shut.
“It is a difficult break, the bone has shattered.” He spoke quietly, almost reluctantly, driven with a compulsion the others didn’t yet understand. “It will take long months to heal, perhaps even longer. Complications will be endless. And there will be risk of infection.”
Jesse glanced towards him, a smile still lingering on his face. “Months are weeks to a shifter,” he bragged. “And I’m not worried about an infection. I’m sure the fae will assault me with every petal and herb in the forest. It is likely I’ll never be sick again.”
The others burst into laughter once more as the fae began spouting off his defenses. Their voices and spirits had risen so high, they almost didn’t notice when the vampire spoke again.
“Still,” he continued softly, his dark eyes flitting back to the bandage, “it will be exceedingly painful, at a time when you need to gather your strength. And it could easily break open again.”
Jesse flashed him another look, surprised they were still talking about it. “It will be fine. A few weeks is not so long.”
...isn’t it?
It was in the forest. It was considering the kinds of things they’d decided to do. A few weeks with a cracked skull in the northern wasteland was a long time indeed. And the vampire was right, there was no shortage of terrible things that might happen in the meantime. They had been counting on good luck and miracles. They had been leaning on the whims and mercies of the gods. But such things were intemperate as a summer storm—breaking in a rush, and gone just as quickly.
“I could heal it much faster. I could give you my blood.”
The laughter vanished, as the makeshift camp went abruptly still.
Kiera’s hand flew over her mouth whilst Eden’s head snapped up so fast, it couldn’t have been anything less than magic. His lips parted with space enough for a silent breath, as he stared in dazed astonishment, both hands frozen in the air beside him.
No one was more surprised than the shifter himself.
“You’re not serious,” he replied slowly, watching for the crack of a smile, the mischief of a joke. The vampire was steady as a heartbeat, never breaking his gaze. “What of the bond—”
“You offered the same to me in the desert,” Evander interrupted quietly. “When the rest of them had gone quiet, and we thought all hope was lost...you offered me your blood. To save me.”
He added the last words almost as an afterthought, an inner contemplation incidentally said aloud. But in truth, he had never stopped thinking them. When the fae had first pulled the shifter from the crumble of the mountain, limp and pale as a corpse, they’d struck like a gong in his head.
Jesse opened his mouth, but was unable to speak.
“I have bonded with only two people in my life,” Evander continued softly, never turning that steady gaze. “The first died, the other is sitting across from you. This is not something I offer lightly, but I would offer it all the same. My blood is yours...if there’s a chance it could save you.”
A tear slipped down Kiera’s cheek, landing silently in the snow. There had been many times when she’d wondered why the vampire hadn’t just bonded with them both from the beginning. It would only be a few decades—what did that matter in the span of immortality? Given the purpose of their enterprise, it had seemed nothing more than pragmatic, until Eden had taken her aside.
That is not the nature of these things, he’d said. They do not come from a place of necessity, but of love.
She’d thought about those words for a long time after he’d said them, turning them over and over with a wistful smile. She understood then, such a gift was not hers to treasure. A bond was less about a vampire’s blood, and more to do with his heart. Evander’s heart was saved for one person.
But just perhaps, there was room for a little more.
Jesse lowered his eyes for a moment, pushing through waves of emotion as he gathered the breath to speak. When he finally raised his head, those green eyes were shining.
“Fortunately for us both, I do not need saving. It will spare you the irritation of having me in your head for the next fifty years. But thank you, Evan,” he added, forgetting the centuries between them as he gave the vampire a true smile. “I will never forget it.”
No, I don’t think he ever will.
THE FRIENDS LIT A FIRE that night. Kiera had nothing to do with it.
“I suppose you think that was rather meager,” Jesse commented, wrapping himself in the thick cloak the fae had loaned him, and settling down in the snow. After getting over the initial shock of what his girlfriend had done, the wolf had been jealous that he hadn’t seen it. When Eden had torn the satchel in two, striking flint beneath them, he’d openly bemoaned the fact they couldn’t light it in a more fantastical way. “Not to make this all about myself...”
The fae chuckled quietly as Kiera patted his hand.
“You let the most deranged person we know piece together your skull.” She kissed him on the forehead, pulling the cloak to his chin. “You’re allowed to make it about yourself today.”
“Not just today,” he swore, fighting back a huge yawn. “You just wait until tomorrow...”
He might have said more, but before the words could finish leaving his mouth, the shifter had fallen fast asleep. His friends watched him for a moment—perhaps out of gratitude he was breathing, perhaps to make sure he still was—before they turned back to the fire.
There were only two of them. Evander had glanced between the paltry fire and the distant forest before declaring he would gather wood and vanishing into the snow. There was nothing strange about it, nothing that hadn’t happened a hundred times before. But Kiera found herself abruptly nervous to be left alone with no one except the fae. Her eyes darted towards him before seeking refuge in safer places. She was about to make some excuse about being tired and settle down beside Jesse, when he rose gracefully to his feet and settled alongside her instead.
“May I?”
She looked at him in confusion, then saw he was reaching for her hands. A flush swept over her cheeks, and she offered them without hesitation—watching as he turned them gently over, the tips of his fingers running along the smooth lines. A look of thoughtful bewilderment settled over him, creasing his forehead, before he lowered them slowly back to her sides.
This time, she didn’t just think it. She made the request out loud.
“Please...say something.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she realized how desperately important the fae’s opinion actually was. Not because of what he was, or his position within their group, or how long he and his immortal brethren had been wandering beneath the stars. But because of who he was to her.
Please, say this will be all right.
He drew in a deep breath, searching for the words. “I am...relieved?”
She leaned back to see him better, absolutely stunned. “Relieved?” she repeated, certain she’d misheard.
He smiled faintly, like he was just as surprised himself. “You said something a few nights ago I cannot forget,” he said quietly. “When Jesse went missing, you wished for a flaming sword, a pair of wings, a golden chariot to find him and bring him back safely. You lamented that the gods would make you care so much for the people around you, but give you such little means to help.” He drew in another breath, then shook his head—casting a look towards the heavens. “How many times have I prayed for the same thing?” he murmured, almost to himself. “I met a girl who spares baby dragons, and risks the sting of a scorpion to save a horse. A girl who throws books at monsters, and when danger calls, finds herself running into the fire. A girl like that needs to have a way to protect herself. I cursed them for not listening, for leaving you so defenseless.” He paused a moment, then smiled. “Maybe they were listening after all.”
She stared back at him in silence, tears running down her face. It didn’t seem possible the fae’s revelation could have been any sweeter, but he’d forgotten one important thing.
“You think the gods left me helpless?” she asked quietly. “You think they cast me into a world of monsters all on my own? Did they not lead me through the wilderness into Farion? And did a certain immortal not happen to be playing dice that day?” Their eyes met, and she laced their fingers together. “I have never been alone. I have never been defenseless. I have always had you.”
They stared at each other a suspended moment, then he pressed a sudden kiss to her forehead and wrapped his arm around her back. The moon lifted slowly above them, as they sat together in the snowbank, listening to the breeze come down from the mountain, gazing up at the stars. After a long while, when the fire was near gone, he cast a look at the top of her head.
“You have no need for me anymore.”
“That’s quite right,” she said briskly, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “The gods have seen fit to give me something better.”
He laughed and pulled back his arm, about to say something in return, when his eyes flashed suddenly into the darkness—staring at things beyond her own sight. By the time she turned around, Evander was already standing in the campsite, his black hair tousled from the speed of his flight.
“It was not the gods,” he said authoritatively, “it was a dragon.” There was a flush to his cheeks, and a pair of thick branches for the fire. He split them in half, tossing them onto the dying flames. “But how is that possible?” he continued abruptly, settling beside them and speaking the question that had been weighing on everyone’s minds. “How could a dragon bestow such a gift?”
Eden shrugged his shoulders, warming his hands by the new light.
“Dragons are powerful creatures. She spared its child.” He cast her a sideways grin, the kind that always made him seem younger than he was. “Did I not say, you have the heart of a dragon? I am nothing short of a prophet. Not to make this all about me...”
