Like I did so often with my sister, swearing I’d heard her voice, convinced I’d seen her shadow.
But then Fox’s eyes move beneath their closed lids. I let out a strange noise; part hiccup, part sob, part laugh. I’m so relieved. So incredibly relieved. He’s alive. Or at least, he must be.
“Beaufort,” I say, “he’s not … can you heal him?”
Beaufort looks at me, his face full of sympathy. “Briony, I don’t know if I can. He’s a vampire. I’ve never tried. He’s not human like us.”
“Please,” I say, and he lays his palm flat on Fox’s chest, closing his eyes and whispering words in the old language as his shadows whirl around Fox’s withered form.
“Briony, I don’t think–”
I place my hand beside his on Fox’s cold chest. I can feel the professor’s ribs jutting against his frail skin, so different from the usual muscular, broad Fox I’ve come to know and love. How has he withered so much in such a short time? What has she done to him?
My magic pours from my hand and light spins alongside Beaufort’s shadows. I search for the wounds in his broken flesh and understand immediately what Beaufort means. It’s not like healing Dray. Dray is not strictly human either – he’s a shifter; his magic and his form are slightly different from ours. But Fox is different altogether: cold, lifeless. It’s hard even to feel his skin, let alone know where to mesh it back together.
“What do we do?” I ask Beaufort. “How do we heal him? How has he withered away so quickly?”
Beaufort opens his mouth to reply, but Fox murmurs from beneath us. His eyes are still closed; but his lips move ever so slightly. The sound is so faint I have to bend over him and put my ear right above his mouth.
Fox was always pale, but there’s no color to him now. His skin is almost translucent. I can see the bones of his skull beneath the paper-thin flesh.
He murmurs a second time and I try to catch the words.Briony?Is he saying my name?
“Fox, how can I help you? What can I do? Please tell me.”
“Huh,” he says, the sound making no sense at first. He repeats it.
“Sweetheart,” Beaufort says, and I glance up at the shadow-weaver kneeling beside the professor.
“I think he’s …” Beaufort trails off.
“You think what, Beaufort? Tell me!”
“I think he’s hungry. I think that’s why he’s withered. I think that’s why he’s dying.”
Almost immediately, I realize he’s right. That witch has been starving him to death. Fox once told me one of the few ways to kill a vampire was to starve them. He also said a starving vampire would be hard to stop – but the Madame bound him in some kind of magical binds and has been denying him food ever since.
If she were here now, I’d fry her with my magic, just like I did the head of the academy. I would reduce her to ash.
I stare down at Fox. He needs food – that means he needs blood. I’d offer him my throat, but he’s too weak. He can’t even open his eyes or form a word. How is he meant to feed?
“Your sword,” I say to Beaufort. “Give me your sword.”
“What?” he says, blinking, but I’m already snatching it from its sheath. Before he can stop me, I slice the blade through my hand, wincing as I do and splitting the skin. Bright red blood pools to the surface of my skin.
“Briony, what are you doing?” Beaufort cries.
“You said it yourself. He’s starving to death. He needs blood. He needs to feed.”
I hover my hand above Fox’s pale lips, squeezing my fingers into a fist and wincing at the pain from the cut. Blood runs from the wound and drips like tears onto Fox’s waiting mouth.
At first nothing happens.
Then his eyes move beneath their lids; his tongue flickers out and laps at the warm red liquid. He groans – a deep, tortured noise – and then his eyes open. I expect their color to be as muted as the rest of him, but they’re not. They glow iridescently – a bright flaming red I’ve never seen before – and gaze straight into my own. He holds my stare, his eyes glowing brighter, as more of my blood falls to his mouth; he drinks hungrily. A flush of color blooms across his pale skin.
He moans and swallows quickly as the drops fall. More color spreads across his face and his eyes shine brighter.
My pounding heart begins to settle. He’s going to be okay. He’s going to live.
