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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“And anyone not in the circle with her,” Ivi said, and turned his face to the multicolored lights that bobbed in the room. His pale face glittered darkly on one side.
“Is that blood?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ivi said, and grimaced as he touched his forehead. “When the door exploded it sent shards of wood through the bedroom. Your new healer is tending the wounded.”
“The demi-fey?” I started to get up, but was still trapped beneath everyone’s bodies. Galen and Nicca began to roll off me, so I could sit up. Frost offered me a hand, and helped me to my feet. He pulled too hard, or my legs still weren’t working, because he had to catch me or I would have fallen. He caught me in against his body, and said, “What is that in your hair?”
“Oh, Kitto…”
“No, Merry,” Kitto said, “it isn’t my seed.”
Frost had a gun in his other hand, so it was Doyle who reached out and touched my hair. “Goddess save us.”
“What?” I asked, and I didn’t like how everyone was acting. Doyle helped me, drawing a strand of my hair closer to my face. There were leaves in my hair.
Doyle extinguished the flame on his hand with a shake, like you blow out a match by fanning it sharp in the air. Frost’s light came back to float above our heads, and in the white light I could see that it wasn’t just leaves.
“Mistletoe’s entwined in your hair.” Doyle glanced down at Kitto. “Is this your doing?”
“It was my seed in her hair, but I do not think I caused it.”
Brii came to stand beside us; his long yellow hair was decorated with bits of wood. “May I?” he asked me. His hand was raised toward my hair.
I nodded.
He touched the mistletoe tentatively, almost as if he were afraid it would hurt him, or it would vanish if he touched it too hard. “It was once considered the seed of the god.” He caressed the hard stems and the solid, thick green leaves, his fingertips gentle against the white berries.
“The seed of the god,” he whispered.
It was a good sign, a sign of great blessing, but… “How badly hurt are the demi-fey? If the splinters could do that to Ivi… how hurt are they?” I asked.
“We are not certain,” Frost said. “The blast of power threw us all to the floor or walls. They are small, and were thrown harder.”
I pushed away from his arms. I started for the far door. He picked me up, the drawn gun pressing cold against my bare legs. “There are splinters everywhere,” he said, as I tried to protest. I couldn’t argue his point.
“Then take me to them. Let me see what my pleasure has cost my people.
“And anyone not in the circle with her,” Ivi said, and turned his face to the multicolored lights that bobbed in the room. His pale face glittered darkly on one side.
“Is that blood?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ivi said, and grimaced as he touched his forehead. “When the door exploded it sent shards of wood through the bedroom. Your new healer is tending the wounded.”
“The demi-fey?” I started to get up, but was still trapped beneath everyone’s bodies. Galen and Nicca began to roll off me, so I could sit up. Frost offered me a hand, and helped me to my feet. He pulled too hard, or my legs still weren’t working, because he had to catch me or I would have fallen. He caught me in against his body, and said, “What is that in your hair?”
“Oh, Kitto…”
“No, Merry,” Kitto said, “it isn’t my seed.”
Frost had a gun in his other hand, so it was Doyle who reached out and touched my hair. “Goddess save us.”
“What?” I asked, and I didn’t like how everyone was acting. Doyle helped me, drawing a strand of my hair closer to my face. There were leaves in my hair.
Doyle extinguished the flame on his hand with a shake, like you blow out a match by fanning it sharp in the air. Frost’s light came back to float above our heads, and in the white light I could see that it wasn’t just leaves.
“Mistletoe’s entwined in your hair.” Doyle glanced down at Kitto. “Is this your doing?”
“It was my seed in her hair, but I do not think I caused it.”
Brii came to stand beside us; his long yellow hair was decorated with bits of wood. “May I?” he asked me. His hand was raised toward my hair.
I nodded.
He touched the mistletoe tentatively, almost as if he were afraid it would hurt him, or it would vanish if he touched it too hard. “It was once considered the seed of the god.” He caressed the hard stems and the solid, thick green leaves, his fingertips gentle against the white berries.
“The seed of the god,” he whispered.
It was a good sign, a sign of great blessing, but… “How badly hurt are the demi-fey? If the splinters could do that to Ivi… how hurt are they?” I asked.
“We are not certain,” Frost said. “The blast of power threw us all to the floor or walls. They are small, and were thrown harder.”
I pushed away from his arms. I started for the far door. He picked me up, the drawn gun pressing cold against my bare legs. “There are splinters everywhere,” he said, as I tried to protest. I couldn’t argue his point.
“Then take me to them. Let me see what my pleasure has cost my people.