I tear my eyes away from my daughter and take them all in. They all look like they have been through Hell. My heart nearly stops when I see that Frederick is also wounded, a sword gash practically severing him in half.
“Why aren’t any of you healing?” I ask, with a gulp.
“They took away our magick,” Constantine says. “Well, in as much as being a Vampire is magick.”
“What?” I ask. “How did you get away.”
“I can still Teleport. I am still more than the average Vampire,” Constantine says, but for once there is no arrogance in his tone. “As for the rest of my magick...” He holds his hands out in an ‘empty’ gesture.
“I don’t get it,” I say, handing Thia back to her daddy, so that his hands don’t seem so...empty. “How did they get in, never mind manage to nearly take all of you out?” I bend down to stroke Lincoln. He is Wolfed out and is covered in blood. “And why is Lincoln a Wolf and not human then?”
“His natural state is Wolf,” Constantine mutters and I stare at a woeful looking Linc.
“Jesus,” I say, ruffling his ears. “I will fix this. Somehow. First things first, I need to stop Marguerite’s bleeding.”
Everyone looks away and I know they are beating themselves up for not saving her from this. I don’t know why they didn’t, but it is something I intend to find out.
“And you,” I say, only giving Frederick a quick glance before I turn my back on him, still pissed at his hateful words.
“How?” he asks, standing up and hobbling towards me, his left hand holding his right side together. It must be Hell on Earth for him, but he barely flinches.
“I still have my magick,” I say flicking a bolt of lightning up from my palm. “It’ll hurt, but it’ll work.”
Marguerite’s already pale face goes even more ashen, but she nods stoically.
“Leave us,” I instruct. She has been through enough without an audience for this as well.
After everyone has filed out, I hover over her hesitantly, but she chokes out, “Do it,” and removes the now useless bloody, silken wad.
I grimace at her and get on with it. I cauterize her wound as best as I can, without taking her head off in the process, amidst her screams of agony. At least she can scream, I think grimly, as I pat her hand when I am finished.
“Thank you,” she rasps and gets up. “Shower?” she adds quietly.
“Upstairs, end of the hall. Do you want me to come with you?”
She shakes her head but squeezes my hand and then off she goes.
I turn to Frederick and cross my arms. “Give me one good reason why I should heal you?”
He raises his eyebrow at me in amusement. “Still sore?” he asks with a lewd look at my crotch.
“Sit,” I bark at him, annoyed.
I am less gentle with his healing, but he doesn’t utter a sound. Not even his eyes give away the amount of pain he must be enduring.
“Beast,” I mutter under my breath.
“Never claimed to be anything else,” he mutters back and pulls his tattered shirt back together. He grabs my hand suddenly, catching me off guard. “Is she all right?”
I follow his gaze to where Marguerite left and then look him in the eye. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t get to her in time. Constantine was going to go back...”
“Don’t defend him,” I say, pulling my hand away
.
“Hmm, I see your rose-colored glasses have slipped,” he says quietly.