saber de clanes 344257123-V20-Lore-of-the-Bloodlines-11056187-pdf | Page 74

“Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.”
— Hippocrates
Eyes
Eric Rodriguez was dying, and the
fever couldn’t stop him from realizing
it. The nurses who came all had the
eyes: gray in the flickering lights, a
same
color that looked like pity, fear, and
duty
. The doctors who looked over him had
eyes and softer voices. One said it was
soft
hemorrhagic fever, probably Ebola. Qua
rantine was why his family couldn’t
him, and the doctors said they were sorry
see
, this time with sad eyes. Eric watched
the plastic-covered ceiling of the clean
room, condensation collecting on the
inside, a soft and infrequent rainfall
made from his poisoned sweat. He ima
he could feel his blood carrying sickness
gined
throughout his body.
The cheap lights flickered, or maybe Eric
’s own pained eyes closed a moment. Ther
e were shadows in the hot hospital room
and then there was a man and a wom
,
an, though the sterile plastic drapes rem
ained undisturbed. The woman was pen
wearing a faded turtleneck and ragged
sive,
skirt — maybe fashionably, maybe nece
ssarily. She had a small scar in the midd
of her forehead. The man Eric knew
le
from childhood. The fluorescent lights
of the hospital cast a nasty pallor over
both
.
“Tio Matt?” Eric mumbled. Uncle Ma
tt had been a distant fixture all his life,
visiting infrequently but sending regu
birthday cards bulging with cash. His
lar
father and blood uncle referred to Ma
tt as uncle as well. Once, drunk, they
mentioned knowing from Matt in thei
had
r youth, though the next day was noth
ing but denials.
A bit of blood rolled down Eric’s cheek
like a tear. He smelled the coppery tang
. Matt spread his hands, an odd gesture
of helplessness from one unaccustomed
to it. “I cannot permit him to die,” he
said, in a tone that meant, “please don’
let him.”
t
“I won’t,” said the woman, answerin
g his intent instead of his words. She
was paler than Matt, maybe twenty-t
wo.
“Do you know how many descenda
nts of Ferdinand Maximilian Joseph
still live within the borders of Mexico
Matt said, his attitude flashing from
?”
pleading to pride. “All of them struck
down by this vile disease. It is deliberat
strike against me.” There was a click
e, a
ing sound from his mouth, and Matt’s
jaw hung slightly open.
“Be calm,” said the woman, her gaze
placid. Remarkably, the same placidity
overtook Matt, and he straightened
his jacket. “Yes, the Archbishop has disco
vered your preference for Hapsburg blood
. Yes, he has infected your herd. We can
help each other, senor.”
“You promised to heal him.”
“And I will,” she said, eyes confiden
“Agreed,” Eric’s tio Matt said. “You
t. “It is my purpose to fulfill, if you
keep to our bargain.”
as guest in my home for the year, and
LORE OF THE BLOODLINES
all I know of Adonai’s brood.”
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