Page 91 of A Land So Wide
She waited for him to say more, but he remained resolutely focused on his task. “I was hurt. I was hurt and what?”
“I took care of it, took care of you. The only way I know how.” He glanced meaningfully at his hands. His fingers were stained with blood.
Greer recalled the strange taste of the water in the canteen. The canteen Finn had refilled. She focused on his hands, his bloody hands, and the kerchief she only now noticed was knotted round his wrist.
Ailie had told her so many eerie tales from their homeland across the sea, stories of selkies and each-uisges, caoineag and Ghillie Dhu, but the most nightmarish of them all were the Baobhan Sith.
Those fables raced through her mind now. The blood drinkers were beautiful and strong, able to shift their appearance and control thedesires and temptations of their prey. They were wily and fierce, with little regard for the humans they went after.
Had Ailie been telling her stories of the Bright-Eyeds?
Of herself?
“Blood,” she guessed, and her throat flexed, fighting the urge to retch. “You fed me your blood.”
“And you feel better.” Finn ripped the hind legs off one of the hares, not bothering with a knife. He skewered the set, then handed Greer the stick so she could begin roasting. “Your vision has cleared. Your headache is gone.”
“Yes, but—”
“If you’d known, you wouldn’t have drunk.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course not.”
“Well. Good, then. It worked.”
“Good?” she repeated. “Not good at all. You took away any choice I had!”
He dragged his attention from their meal, flashing eyes meeting hers. “There was never a choice to make. You’re one of us,” he said with long-suffering patience. “Your blood is our blood. Mostly. Ailie fed you hers for years without you being ever the wiser.”
Greer stared at the fire. It looked too bright now, and she shifted her gaze away, to the shadows of the forest. Only…they weren’t as shadowy anymore. She could see into them, see details that should have been impossible.
The etching of frost on a leaf half a mile away. Individual feathers on a screech owl perched high in the tree line. The subtle play of moonbeams too weak to have ever been noticed.
She now could see as well as she could hear, with alacrity and a keen edge.
And when she looked up to the stars…
Greer gasped.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Finn asked. His head tipped up and he smiled.
For a long moment, they watched the stars spin, radiating a luster too perfect to put to words. They danced and sparkled, surrounded by pulsing glows that seemed to chime like the tinkling of a bell.
“Why would my mother do that? Do any of this?” she asked softly, feeling the last of her resistance ebb away. She didn’t doubt that Ailie was exactly what Finn said, which meant that Greer, too, was exactly what Finn implied. “Why would she leave the Bright-Eyeds and live as a human?”
“For you.” His stare was long and solemn. “You’ve no idea all the things she planned for you. The things she wanted and dreamed.”
“But you do?”
“Mostly.”
Again, that word. She waited for him to go on.
He sighed. “Having children can be difficult for us.” He jabbed another stick through the second hare. “They’re born small, weak. Most don’t survive their first day. But if one of the parents is human…” He trailed off, gesturing toward Greer. “Ailie needed a strong bloodline.”
“Why?” Greer challenged. “It wasn’t as though…She never even told me what she truly was.”
“Who,” he corrected sharply. “Not what.” He clicked his tongue against his palate. “She was going to tell you. When you were old enough, strong enough. Ailie was going to start training you so that when you finally returned home you’d be ready.”
