Promises to Keep

tree and bright decorations had been shoved aside to make room for a makeshift sick ward. Effort had been made to keep the ill comfortable, but blankets and pillows could not conceal their restless movements or the stench of their sweat.

Nurses circled like buzzards picking at the ill.

The world rushed around Brina as she looked around, and the pounding of her heart in her ears became louder and more rapid. There wasn’t enough air in this room, and what air there was she couldn’t draw into her lungs fast enough. There were so many here, coughing and gasping and calling for help.

She didn’t want to faint again. She fought against it; her knuckles went white as she gripped the doorframe, struggling to stay standing.

“Can I help you?” someone asked, taking her arm.

Brina shook her head, and at the same time she asked, “What is this plague?”

The human winced, and said, “It’s the flu. We think it may even be the one this year’s flu shot protects against, since none of the humans have it.” As she spoke, she touched Brina’s brow and the back of her neck. “How do you feel?”

“Cold,” Brina admitted. “Horrified. There are so many.”

“I know it’s normally considered rude to ask at SingleEarth, but … what are you?”

Brina blinked at her, startled. “I’m … not sure right now.”

“Not sure?”

“I imagine that’s why I was brought here.”

“Then you could be at risk,” the nurse said. “If you’re not already ill, you shouldn’t be here. You’ll be exposed.”

“I’ve had the plague before,” Brina whispered.

“Then maybe you’re—” The human broke off, frowned, and finally asked, “I’m sorry, are you a resident here?”

Brina wasn’t listening anymore. She needed to see what was happening.

She followed meandering paths through the sick, taking note of all the colors around her. Onyx hair, fair skin, and eyes like emeralds. It wasn’t the fever that made the skin seem pearlescent and the eyes that tracked her movement with dazed hope look like polished gems; it was the distinctive coloration of a serpent shapeshifter. At another pallet, she glimpsed feathers beneath the sweat-matted hair of a young boy whose brown hair and hazel eyes suggested he was probably a sparrow. Next, a mane of rich auburn, shorn short—a fox, a rare breed to find out of their enclave.

Brina had hundreds of years of practice; she knew how to recognize an individual’s breed and state of health at sight. She wouldn’t have paid a pence for any of these pitiful creatures if they had been human, and since they weren’t, they shouldn’t have been in this condition. Only magic could do this to the nonhuman.

At the next bed, she found a young woman who was kneeling to tend the sick. Her head was bowed and her hands were splayed in front of her on the floor, as if that was all that was keeping her from toppling over on top of the unconscious shapeshifter in front of her.

“Whose spell is it?” Brina asked.

“Spell?” the kneeling girl echoed, without seeming to comprehend.

Brina resisted the urge to kick the girl to get her attention, but only because doing so would probably knock her over. Instead, she said as clearly as possible, “Yes, spell. They cannot just be sick.”

Saying the word drove another chill through her, brought a memory of a wailing baby. She pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time.

There is no good time to remember that day.

“They are sick,” the girl snapped in response. She shoved herself to her feet, only to stumble and nearly fall. Brina jumped back, narrowly eluding the woman’s fever-hot hands as she sought some way to balance herself.

The would-be healer glared at Brina with blue eyes that then widened as she said, “Brina.” Before Brina could correct her, the girl said, “Lady Brina. Whatever you call yourself. You should be sleeping. I put you to sleep. Used my power.”

“You do not look like you have the power to put a mouse to sleep,” Brina observed. The girl must have fancied herself a witch, one of those who supposedly ran this SingleEarth place. “Tell me what has happened to me, and what has happened here, before you faint.” The girl’s face was already pale, and her lips had that cerulean hue that suggested unconsciousness was imminent.

“Caryn, you shouldn’t be up,” another voice said. Brina bristled as a young man pushed his way past her, jostling her without apology as he hurried to take the sick witch into his arms.

“I need to do something,” the girl responded.

“Your fever is back,” the solicitous young man said.

“Can’t focus my magic,” Caryn whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Some of the shapeshifters are responding to human medication. I know you said these medications don’t normally do anything for your kind, but you’re going to try.”

She nodded, but then added, “Only treats the symptoms.”

“The symptoms are boiling your brain,” Brina interjected. “You need a witch.”

“I am a witch!” the girl snapped, showing previously unseen spirit.

“You’re a useless witch,” Brina replied.

“Who are you?” the boy demanded.

“I am Lady Brina di’Birgetta,” she replied, drawing up to her full height. “In the last day, I have had my property stolen and been assaulted in my own home, and now I’ve been abducted and brought to this plague ward against my will. I have been as patient as I intend to be, and now I demand to know what is going on.”

The boy just stared at her.

“Are you simple?” she asked.

“She’s a vampire,” the little witch whispered to him. “Or was. Jay brought her in.”

“Jay,” the boy answered, shaking his head. “He—” He broke off, his face going pale as he asked slowly, “May I ask what century?”

“Not the time for historical curiosity,” Caryn chastised him.

“When were you changed? Please, um, my lady. It may help me answer your questions.”

“The year 1665,” Brina answered. How was that relevant?

After drawing a deep breath, he asked, “Europe?”

“Italy.”

“Nurse!” Brina jumped as the young man raised his voice to call to yet another man across the room. “We need to get her quarantined and onto antibiotics. The flu is bad enough in a population without a single antibody. I don’t know what happens when a vampire turns human, and I don’t want to test it. From that era, you could be carrying the goddamned bubonic plague.”

Brina wasn’t listening any longer, not since he had said the word quarantine.

Deaf to anything but the heartbeat in her ears, she slammed an elbow into the stomach of the first nurse stupid enough to touch her. The doctor had lied to her, had told her he could help her, just to get the information he would use to imprison her.

She fought tooth and nail, but she was weak. Pathetic. Human doctors and nurses swarmed, irreverent and immoral, intent on trapping her again, confining her with the dead and dying—

She twisted her head with a snarl as she felt a sharp pinch in the meat of her arm. She looked just in time to see the needle in her flesh. Her previous weakness was nothing compared to the way her body now seemed to collapse, her innards folding into origami. Flowers and paper cranes, made of swirling colors and fancy lights.

Foolish girl, something whispered to her as she sank into a drugged sleep. Even more frightened of life than you are of dying. I should hate you … but I suppose I must credit you with hiding my child away, when the hunters would have murdered her. You gave me time. So I will give you time.

Time for what? Brina tried to ask. But the words wouldn’t form.