Page 79 of Close Quarter
Silas didn't answer, but the metallicclangof his sword scraping across wood caused Rhys to sit up. What remained of the fabric of his tux was crisp and blackened. His arms were a red patchwork that looked like freshly scrubbed flesh peeking out from under flakes of burned and curling skin.
He should have been screaming in agony.
Was it the poison that blocked the pain or something Silas did?
Even as he watched his arms, old skin flaked off to reveal new underneath. Healed.
"Goddamn it, Silas."
Silas sat on the wet deck, hunched over his sword. For once, Rhys was glad he couldn't see Silas's face. Something about the way he sat, the way his hands shook as they curled around the hilt of his sword, filled Rhys with fear. Maybe Silas was angry, but Rhys wouldn't let Silas hurt himself even more. If only the man wouldlisten.
Near the bulkhead, Vasil groaned.
Shit. Vasil.Rhys crawled over to the waiter.
Vasil clutched his shoulder, blood weeping from between his fingers.
"Let me see." He pried the waiter's fingers up and then pushed them back down. "Oh God." A chunk of skin had been torn away--bitten off.
Vasil's pupils were huge. "I can't feel my legs."
Poison claws. Poison fangs as well?
"Bring him here," Silas said, his voice harsher than the crashing waves.
"I don't think we should--"
"Now." That one word shot through Rhys like lightning and left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Vasil pressed his lips thin but nodded.
Rhys helped the waiter crawl--pulled him, really--to where Silas sat.
Gone from Silas was any sign of kindness. He said nothing, just gripped Rhys's thigh and drew a painful amount of element out of him.
His bones--his skin--ached, and he gasped for air. His heart twisted.
Silas didn't even flinch. "Vasil, move your fingers."
The waiter did as told. Silas cupped his hand over Vasil's shoulder. Silas's lips curved into a deep frown.
Lightning seared Rhys's veins as another pull of element flowed from him, and a hot coal of fury formed in his gut.
Vasil exhaled and twitched his foot. Silas folded his hands into his lap. "You may feel weak for a bit. I can't heal the loss of blood. Only time can."
"I'll manage. Thank you, Mr. Quint." Vasil shifted his gaze to Rhys. "And thank you. For my life."
"I couldn't let you die." Truth. He would have been happy to help heal Vasil, if only Silas hadasked. Rhys's arm shook, and his fingers felt numb.Damn it."But all that effort to clean the deck..."
"Not a waste." Vasil climbed to his feet. He swayed a bit but managed to walk back to the storage closet and pulled out the dented ashtray. "If we leave this, the crew in the morning will assume a drunken passenger caused some trouble." He placed the box near the pile of ash that used to be the vampire.
"Good," Silas said. "Might we use your garden?"
We.Rhys finally looked at Silas who had turned an even more unhealthy shade of yellow.
His forehead glistened with beads of sweat. Fury at being used mixed with concern for Silas and turned Rhys's stomach.
Vasil brushed his hands off on his pants. "Of course."
