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heard several voices, glanced, and saw that people had gathered. Merissa, her
aunts, Fianait and
Searlait, and Lawgiver Caimbeul where the hell had he come from as well as
several of the nibari. Merissa had her knuckles in her mouth, trying not to
scream at the way that
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Darmyk rested limp against Malthus' shoulder, his arms dangling.
Kynyr Maguire, Robert Morcar, Erskine Faraday, and Vayle
Stewart ranged behind Caimbeul, making the situation all the more fraught with
danger for Malthus.
Once down, Malthus shifted the boy in his arms and cradled him.
Fianait's brows knit. "What's wrong with the poor little cub?"
Caimbeul stepped forward scowling, flipped Darmyk's wrist to expose the wound,
and turned the cub's head so that the smear of blood showed. "What happened?"
"There were bats on him. I drove them out."
That lawgiver is far too nosy. He'll have to die like the last one.
Caimbeul's eyes narrowed and he regarded Malthus suspiciously. "Give him to
me," Caimbeul said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Malthus scanned the faces, wanting to refuse, and knowing that the lycans
might easily take it wrong. Kynyr had a look in his eyes that suggested he
hoped Malthus would misstep.
Malthus could not risk the gains he had made so far.
Kynyr gestured to his companions. "Caimbeul has it under control. Come on.
There's something that needs doing."
Malthus felt a flutter of trepidation, wondering exactly what Kynyr was going
after.
However, when no one was looking, he would punish Ros.
Malthus understood that Ros had been obsessing on Darmyk for months and her
prematurely adolescent appetites were hard to control; however, if she kept
this up someone would
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discover that she already had her fangs. Malthus yielded
Darmyk to Caimbeul.
"Where's his bedroom?" the lawgiver asked.
"I'll show you," Fianait said, and she led him into the manor with the others
following.
Searlait, Claw's youngest sister, put her arm around
Merissa's shoulders. They both had the distinctive ginger hair that had first
attracted Malthus to Merissa, although Searlait's had begun to fade with age
and had white sprinkled through it, including a heavy strand at her temple.
"Sheradyn will help him. Don't you worry, child."
Aisha was standing in the foyer when they entered; her hand flew to her mouth
as a strangling sound emerged.
"Darmyk."
"Which way?" Caimbeul asked, overpowering any hesitancy wrought of worry in
the bitches surrounding him.
Aisha gave a quick nod and headed for the stairs. "This way."
Caimbeul followed Aisha to Darmyk's room, placed the cub in his bed, and
covered him. He Read the cub and then shook his head. "Fetch the healer. He's
dangerously ill and weak.
Whatever fed on him took him to the edge."
Malthus licked his lips, wondering at Caimbeul's use of the sa'necari term: to
be "taken to the edge" meant that after a few sips more the victim's heart
would fail.
Caimbeul continued to examine the wounds. "Too small for any sa'necari I've
ever seen. I'm not seeing the distinctive scrape marks left by most vampires."
He lifted his gaze and pinned Malthus. "You say you saw bats?"
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Malthus nodded. His memory traced the details of the bat form Sergei had used
to feed upon Ros the first time Malthus caught them together.
Set the lycans to watching for Sergei and maybe one of them will kill the
goatfucker
. "Yes. Black with a brown patterning on their bellies. Over sized ears."
The crowd watching from the door into Darmyk's bedroom moved aside as Sheradyn
arrived, carrying his satchel of medicinals on his shoulder. His assistant and
lover, Gillivray, came along behind him. They were a mismatched pair in every
way except ability. The aristocratic Sheradyn, educated in Creeya's finest
medical school, dressed like a human in close-fitting buttoned pants and
shirt, his long white hair, with only a single strand of his original russet
color, hung well brushed and tied at his neck with a bit of black ribbon.
Gillivray, eighty years his junior, slouched comfortably in his traditional
lycan sashed robe and pants that would easily accommodate shape-shifting, and
watched Sheradyn with a glance so fond it frequently embarrassed those around
them.
Sheradyn motioned Caimbeul away from Darmyk, pulled up a chair, and sat down
by the bed. Taking Darmyk's small wrist in hand, Sheradyn Read the cub with an
expression that grew steadily more serious. Finally, he shook his head. "He's
extremely weak. The blood loss is severe. But, I'll do what I
can. Gillivray and I will take turns sitting with him tonight."
"Send for the priest," Caimbeul said.
Merissa gasped. "My baby."
Searlait held Merissa tighter. "Courage."
Caimbeul took Merissa's hand, his dark eyes kind. "I didn't mean to imply he
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needed the prayers for the dying, Merissa. I
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want her to ward his window so that the bats or vampires or whatever they
were, cannot get him again."
Merissa favored Caimbeul with a trembling smile. "Thank you."
"The cub is sa'necari, I've never treated one of those,"
Sheradyn said.
Caimbeul pulled at his stubbled chin. "He's a bit young, but you should try
getting him to drink fresh blood. It might help.
Bleed one of your nibari enough to fill a glass and mix it with fruit juice.
Get that down him as often as he's willing to take it."
Sheradyn lifted an eyebrow at Caimbeul.
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