“Who is Sophie?” A wife? Perhaps, a sister?
Éléonore shrugged. “I don’t know, dear. But whoever she is, she must be very important to him. I can tel you that Richard is a skil ed swordsman.
He was teaching my grandsons how to fight the last time I was in the Weird. Whoever ran him through is likely dead.” Charlotte let her magic slide over Richard’s body. A skil ed swordsman.
She could believe that—his spare body was strong but supple, honed by constant exercise. His blood pressure was stil too low. In time, his body would replenish the blood he lost, but it would take a while, and she didn’t want to gamble.
He had cal ed her beautiful.
She knew she was a reasonably
attractive woman, and he had been delirious, so it shouldn’t have mattered, but for some reason it did. She had stayed away from romantic relationships in the Edge—one Elvei was enough—and she had almost forgotten she was a woman. A single word from a complete stranger touched off something feminine inside her.
She felt unreasonably pleased when she remembered his saying it, as if he’d given her a gift she real y wanted but didn’t expect. He would never know it, but she was grateful for it.
Charlotte rose and got her cel phone.
“Who are you cal ing?” Éléonore asked.
“Luke. Richard wil need a blood transfusion, the sooner the better.”
“Should we leave?” Daisy asked.
Éléonore held her finger to her lips.
“Yes?” Luke answered.
She put him on speaker. Holding the phone to her ear was real y awkward.
“It’s Charlotte. I need A+.” It had taken her a few weeks to learn the Broken’s medical terminology, but with the help of books, she had eventual y prevailed.
She’d identified Richard’s blood type when her magic slid through his veins.
The EMT fel silent. “I can get you two bags. Five hundred.”
Two pints. It would have to do. “I’l take it.”
“Meet me at the end of the road in twenty.” Luke hung up.
“Five hundred dol ars?” Daisy’s eyes were the size of saucers.
“Highway robbery,” Éléonore said.
“He’s the only source of blood for Edgers, unless we do a person-to-person transfusion.” Charlotte shrugged. “It’s just money.” She could always make more.
“Do you want us to leave?” Daisy asked again.
“I have to meet him and get the blood, but if you don’t mind waiting, I can work on Tulip when I come back.” She was tired, but she couldn’t very wel send Tulip out with one cheek clear and the other pockmarked with acne.
Daisy pursed her lips. Tulip pul ed on her sleeve. The older sister sighed.
“We’l wait.”
“Please make yourself welcome,”
Charlotte said. “There is tea and snacks in the fridge. I’l be back in half an hour or so.” The girls went into the kitchen.
“Thank you for doing this for him,”
Éléonore said.
“It wil help him heal. Like you said, he’s family.” Charlotte smiled and pul ed a medical dictionary off the shelf. In the hol owed-out space inside lay her cash reserve. She plucked the stack of twenties and counted out five hundred. “Wil you keep an eye on him?”
“Of course. Charlotte, take a gun.”
“It’s just down the road.”
Éléonore shook her head. “You never know. I don’t have a good feeling about this. Take a gun just in case.” Charlotte took a rifle from the wal , chambered a round, and hugged Éléonore.
“I’l be back.”
“Of course.”
Charlotte went outside, crossed the lawn, and got into the truck. The truck had belonged to Rose, and she had final y learned to drive it last year. It lacked the elegance of the Adrianglian phaetons, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She turned the key. The engine started.
There was something about Richard’s face that cal ed to her. She wasn’t sure if it was the handsome masculine lines or the fiery intensity in his eyes. Or maybe it was because he thought she was beautiful.
Whatever it was, she had become invested in his survival. She wanted to see him open his eyes again and hear him speak.
Most of al , she wanted him to safely recover.
Five hundred was a smal price to pay for that.
TWO
ÉLÉONORE checked Richard’s pulse. It was even. Charlotte was a miracle worker, and the poor girl had no idea. Most people in her place would be rol ing around in money. None was more desperate than a mother with a sick child or a husband with a dying wife. They’d give you their last dol ar. But Charlotte healed them al for a pittance and acted like she was nothing special.