Page 35 of The Agent and the Outlaw
“Trust is no small thing,” she murmured.
I agreed. I offered her an encouraging smile, which she returned with an unfocused gaze.
She wavered slightly, then her eyes rolled white, and she passed out, falling backward onto the bed.
11
CHARLOTTE
November 18, 1767
The Wild Rose,Gévaudan
I feltsunlight streaming in above me. Even though I kept my eyes tightly closed, its warmth was a comforting caress across my face. I was bombarded by a confusing array of scents—blood, herbs, flowers, freshly washed linen, leather, baking bread, burning wood.
I groaned. My throat burned from dehydration and disuse.That can’t be good. I wonder how long I’ve been in bed.
Memories began to return to me, slowly, as if I could only see them from behind distorted glass—Sade’s death, Antoine, vampire soldiers. The cold, rainy road to Gévaudan. A passionate embrace and brain-searing climax in a wooded glade, followed by a violent attack and a strange creature. Excruciating pain in my shoulder. Then the town and this inn.
But the sun was out now, and I sensed more than just Antoine nearby. How long had I been unconscious?
I cracked one eye open and looked around. Another cloak hung by the fire, but the room was otherwise empty. On the small table, I saw a tidy pile of bandages, small jars of medicines, and a set of severe-looking surgical instruments. Immediately, my hand went to my shoulder. It was wrapped in fresh bandages—as was the scrape on my arm from Hugo’s teeth—but I didn’t feel more than a dull ache from either injury. Whether it was Antoine or the mystery cloak owner, whoever had tended my arm had done a splendid job.
I rose, frowning down at my ragged chemise. I couldn’t wait for a proper bath and some clean clothes.Soon. Find Antoine first.I went over to the cloak and felt around the pockets for any clue as to its wearer but came up empty. The garment was a lovely royal blue and was small and delicately cut, I suspected for a woman. I sniffed at the collar and sleeves and smelled faint odors of herbs, rain-damp wool, and something exotic, yet vaguely familiar—lime blossom.
“Van Helsing!” I exclaimed.
As if summoned, the curvy, dark-haired doctor bustled into the room carrying a cloth-covered tray. Lunch, perhaps. She regarded me with mild surprise, her deep blue eyes widening a fraction behind her spectacles.
“Ah, excellent! I had a feeling you’d be awake today,” she said in her lilting Dutch accent.
“Where is Antoine?” I demanded. I flinched at the harshness of my tone. I hadn’t meant to ask that, but the question had tumbled out of my mouth before any of the others.What are you doing here? How long have I been in bed? What day is it? What of the vampires and that creature? Is there food on that tray? I’m ravenous.
She cocked a brow at me and grinned. “After days at your bedside, the lieutenant was finally persuaded to get some much-needed food and rest. He’s sound asleep next-door, in my bedroom.”
At this, an unexpected flash of overheated anger and fierce possessiveness surged in my blood, screeching “mine! He’s mine,”prompting me to practically growl at her.
“Inyourroom?”
Van Helsing studied me intently over the rim of her spectacles, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“Very interesting,” she murmured to herself. “Yes,Comtesse, he is resting in my chambers. It is nothing untoward, I assure you. In your comatose state, you thrashed about quite wildly, and he would not have been able to sleep in this room, let alone in that bed with you.”
The explanation made sense, but I felt a tug of unease.
“Comatose state? What are you talking about? How long have I been here? How long haveyoubeen here? How did you even know to come here—and how did you get here in the first place?” The questions came on a rising tide of panic.Something is certainly amiss.
“Relax, please, before you overexert yourself. Here, sit on the bed and let me check your wounds. Yes, yes. Very good,” she soothed as she led me back to the bed and started to unwrap my shoulder. “First, today is the 18th. You’ve been mostly unconscious for about two weeks now—”
“Two weeks!” I shrieked. “Tell me you’re joking. It cannot have been so long.”
“I’m afraid it has,Comtesse. You succumbed to a strange type of infection and a blood fever. Your friend,Lieutenant de Valle, did his best for you—and a fine job he did, I might add—but when you didn’t recover after the first two days, he had the good sense to send an urgent message to your cousin. She, of course, had thebettersense to send me to your aid, a wise move considering she and the duke would not be allowed to enter the city due to their supernatural condition.”
Two years ago, Daphne introduced Doctor Van Helsing to me as the woman who’d saved her current husband’s undead life. When Étienne, the vampire emissary to King Louis, had suffered an assassination attempt via quicksilver poisoning, Daphne had used her considerable influence and wealth to find the best vampire doctor in France—well, all of Europe, probably. Not only did Van Helsing heal Étienne, but she’d been instrumental in encouraging them to realize their love for one another.
After that,les Dames Dangereusesand even the men of the Order seldom used any other physician, and it became nearly impossible to secure her services due to the high demand for them. Fortunately for me, she and I had become friends of a sort, and she’d patched me up more times and in more ways than I cared to think about.
Her words whirled around in my head, giving rise to a new barrage of questions.Strange type of infection?I blanched. If the most eminent supernatural physician in Europe believed your illnessstrange,that certainly didn’t bode well for you. And a blood fever? From a mere scratch? I reached for the shoulder she was still unwrapping, but she swatted my hand away.
