Crescent (Old Version)

+ Part 4 +

Nic grinned, a look eerily similar to the high lord's. "There you go again, making promises I don't wanna keep."

Moira had a look like death in her eyes and she glared at her son as he shrugged and walked toward the door. Something about that mischievous grin reminded me of Rosie... and my stomach churned. He threw a wink my way before disappearing into a wave of mist. I stared after him.

 Moira closed her eyes in a calming manner before addressing me again. "I'm sorry... Breakfast will be served soon. I'll take you to the infirmary after. Then, maybe we'll tour the house." 

I didn't like the idea of getting comfortable, but I figured I had little choice. Besides, the more I knew about the estate, the easier I could find a way to leave.

She left and I made to find a fresh moveable outfit. I settled for another knitted tunic, a thick pair of leather boots from the collection in the standing armoire, and a pair of thermal pants.

The guards escorted me down to the main hall where cool light filtered in through the massive windows lining the walls. For once, no snow fell from the sky, but a storm was lurking on the horizon.

There was far more bustle today. Servants lugged back and forth across the halls and down corridors. And, I was quick to notice that a maid now mopped the same spot the man had been screaming at for all of last night.

 I had no doubt that he was dead now.

Ceth, was noticeably absent from the table, and no plates had been set, but all varieties of fruits, jams, and breads were spread out in a delectable arrangement. I helped myself to a plate, wolfing down food before Moira appeared, without Nic, to show me to the infirmary.

It was down the opposite corridor from the stairs to the guest rooms that (I assume) were on my level. It was towards the back of the castle, out of the way, through a glass door on the first floor. 

There were all sorts of rooms that looked vaguely similar to ones you might see at a doctor's office. The rooms were the only portion of the estate that didn't look positively medieval. Blue lights lit the hallway, and I followed Moira into one of the offices where a squirrelly older man stood in a lab coat over an arrangement of medical supplies. Electronics included.

"Jackaby," Moira spoke. The box of gloves that had been in his hands dropped to his feet, and his hunched back twisted toward us suddenly.

"Why..." he turned to me and a friendly smile broke out on his face as he bent, not so gracefully, to pick up the box. "You must be Brenna. It's been a long time since I've seen a new face around here." 

Apparently everyone knew my name. 

I didn't quite know how to acknowledge it. Or if I should. I eyed Moira as he hobbled over to me and gently grabbed my hand and patted it between his. Age spots covered the back of his strong hands. He motioned me over to an examination table and had me sit on top of it. I did, watching him wearily. His grey hair was swept back, and he assessed me through a thick pair of bottle-rimmed glasses. 

"They call me Jackaby. And, I may be old, but I know pain when I see it." My shoulder still hurt more than I cared to admit. He pointed to it and raised a thickset brow. "I just need to check the bruising," he smiled kindly. 

I wasn't sure whether to trust anybody here.  But, I figured showing him wouldn't hurt. I carefully peeled one side of my shirt up to my neck, revealing my torso. Purple bruises decorated my chest, covering much of the skin from my shoulder up to my throat and down to my stomach. My muscles tightened when I moved, and the very motion of showing him caused pain to spiral from my chest, all the way down my back.

His fingers tapped different spots gently, and he leaned around and prodded at a particularly sore spot beneath my shoulder blade. The exit wound. Moira avoided looking at me completely as Jackaby examined me. He gently pressed the scar again and I gasped at the pain that shot across my body. He grimaced and asked, "Ever been shot before?"

"Never," I breathed and silently cursed the pain. He pressed again.

"Silver bullets are nasty buggers. But, it went through cleanly. It will heal. But, you'll have that scarring forever."

Silver always slowed the healing process. It was one of the only substances that could kill a werewolf.  I nodded. 

No thanks to Ceth's soldiers. I don't think I'd ever gotten a scar.

"Now, I'm supposed to take your blood-"

I protested, shoving him away. "No!" 

He held up his hands, a white flag as he smiled at me again, already seemingly aware that I'd refuse. "I'll chalk it up to a fear of needles or something."

Moira smiled from the corner of my eye, and I adjusted myself. What he was doing was a kindness. I had no idea what they wanted- what Ceth wanted- with my blood, but I would fight before I gave it up. "Thank you."

Jackaby patted Moira's back as he headed for the door, leaning toward her to whisper. "Like I said, been a long time since a new face's been around here..." His eyes met mine. "Be easy on that shoulder. Don't want to see me again too soon." 

He hobbled away with an uneven gate on what I assumed was a bum knee but not without casting me another smile.

My chest tightened at the sight. Part of me knew that despite what I felt towards Ceth- which currently was a cross between fear and blossoming hate- I could probably find a friend in the two of them. But, their kindness wouldn't matter. I wouldn't be here long enough to make friends.