A Curse of Blood and Water by Laurence A. Clarke

Author:Laurence A. Clarke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBTQIA+, Victorian Era, MM attraction, selkies, shifter, mystery, arcane arts, occultism, magic
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2022-05-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

WE WENT BACK to the manor house in silence.

I felt hideously tired, and my palms burned, hot and swollen, where the cord had been ripped across them. Regardless, I said nothing as I took Mr. Garten’s hand again to bolster him for the walk back. I admit I felt a little bit a martyr, but it was difficult to feel too bad for myself when Mr. Garten seemed stricken with shock, his face pale and eyes distant, and Bill was nursing a terribly swollen jaw and breathing out angrily through his nose. Eliza, monster hairs carefully tucked into a handkerchief and stowed away somewhere safe on her person, was positively sprightly in comparison to the rest of us. I considered asking her to take over my spot next to Mr. Garten, but I did not quite like to give him up, especially as it was my only way of being remotely useful.

Somehow, it seemed very unlikely that the creature might come back again that night, and I did not even bother to do much more than attempt to put one foot after another or, occasionally, half-heartedly push a wet branch out of my way. It had begun to rain harder soon after the attack, and it did not let up the entire way. Still we slogged on, for there was nothing else to do. It seemed we had been walking all night when we finally saw the few lit windows of the manor house.

We straggled up to the servant’s entrance and let ourselves in. A maid, bleary-eyed and still adjusting a hastily applied cap, met us in the hall and escorted us to the kitchens, yawning all the way, while Eliza disappeared to find us some nightclothes. The warmth of the rooms and the commonplace smells of dust and food and fire made the manor house as welcoming to me now as it had been appalling before.

There was an older lady in the kitchens, apparently much wider awake than the maid had been. She immediately set about preparing a quick meal for us, though I would much rather have gone to bed. Still, once hot food was put before me, I found myself fairly wolfing it down as though I hadn’t eaten in a week. When I had finished, Mr. Garten slid his still heavy-laden plate in front of me.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.

He mutely shook his head.

“You must eat,” I said and pushed the plate back. “I don’t doubt that you may not feel hungry, but you must keep your strength up, after all.”

He simply stared at me for a moment and then, with an air of resignation, took up his fork and knife and began to eat. I watched him, concerned, and hoped that we might get to bed very soon. Glancing down the table at Bill, I saw him chewing with the uninjured side of his mouth, wincing all the while.

“Perhaps we should have some nice porridge for breakfast in the morning,” I suggested, and Bill nodded in agreement.

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