Chapter 6: Larch House

Larch House stood at the end of a dirt road, with a black lake behind it and nothing else for eleven miles.

Merrick carried in the bags and checked every window twice.

Bastian walked in by himself, and made it as far as the kitchen table.

He sat with a hand flat on the wood and his eyes closed.

"The bedroom's at the top of the stairs," he said. "It's yours. I'll take the couch."

"You'll take the hall," I said. "Outside my door."

"Elspeth."

"Terms."

He opened his eyes and almost smiled.

"The hall, then."

Merrick put a cooler on the counter.

"Four bags of O-negative from the Court clinic," he said. "Fresh this morning."

Bastian looked at the cooler and did not move.

"Not yet."

"Sire, you haven't fed in nine days."

"I know how long it's been."

"Drink one," I said.

Both men turned to look at me.

I folded my arms.

"I worked in a pharmacy. Whatever's wrong with you, you're weak, and I'm not going to carry a king up a mountain."

He held my eyes for a moment.

Then he took the bag Merrick offered, bit the corner, and drank.

He got halfway down it.

Then his whole body jerked and he bent over the sink and was sick, a long dark stream that ran into the drain.

Merrick said a word I had never heard him use.

Bastian gripped the counter with both hands and shook.

"It tastes like ash," he said, hoarse. "It's tasted like ash for six weeks."

"Six weeks?"

"I didn't want to frighten you."

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