Page 293 of Dragon Slayer

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FIXES AND MIRACLES

One thing Vlad would grant this century was its medical capabilities. The killing, crippling wounds of his time were no match for modern doctors.

Adela – Treadwell had called her that, hovering back with a stricken look before he was elbowed aside by a nurse – lay unmoving on the table, IV lines snaking from her arms. Someone had put a contraption over her nose and mouth – anesthesia. The doctors had stopped the bleeding; she was “stable,” they said. They were worried about infection, which they shouldn’t have been – the blood Vlad had given her, living blood, would kill anything. The real worry, Vlad knew, was the damage to the tissues of her leg. It smelled faint to him – like it was dying.

“We set the break,” one of the doctors said, sighing behind his paper mask. He held his arms up, gloves slick with blood. “But the leg…” He doubted, just like Vlad.

Then the doctor looked rightatVlad, eyes wide behind his glasses. “The blood. Will it–”

“It might.”

The man cursed under his breath and looked back at the offending limb. “We’ll just have to medicate and see–”

“No,” someone said, and Vlad looked up to find that it was Treadwell, red-faced and blowing like a horse that had just run a race. “I’m – I’m blind!”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “No, I mean…shit.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Anguish of a kind Vlad didn’t understand; he and Adela didn’t smell of one another beyond the most cursory of ways. Co-workers, friends. They weren’t mates.

Warrior obligation, perhaps. Women could go to war in this age.

When Treadwell opened his eyes again, he looked surer, more in control. “I’m blind. I am. I came home from Iraq, and I couldn’t see a damn thing. And now I’m working again. I cansee. This whole facility is dedicated to miracle cures,” he said. “So why can’t you guarantee that you can fix her?”

“There are fixes, and then there are miracles, Major,” the doctor said. “She can survive without her leg. And if she’s able, once she’s healed, we can try the procedure again. I’m sure by that point that Dr. Talbot’s work with the serum will have been further refined, and–”

“I could save the leg,” Vlad said, and all eyes swept toward him. “I could turn her.”

The doctor resumed his work, dismissive.

But Treadwell stared at him, slack-jawed. “You – you mean – make her like you?”

“Yes.”

His jaw firmed, mouth finally closing. “Why would you do that?”

“Does it matter?”

The doctor had stopped again, head turning back and forth as he looked between them. “Are you serious? Damn, you’re serious. Look, that isn’t approved. Doctor Talbot will never go for–”

Vlad spoke over him. “Major Treadwell, you know her best. Will she be able to stand living without this leg? Or will the disability slowly kill her?”

“I…” He faltered, looking down at her still face. “I don’t know her that well.”

“It makes no difference to me,” Vlad said.

But it did. His plan would take place regardless of the surrounding circumstances, but it would be more likely to succeed if he had others on his side. Price’s revenant had been a gift dropped into his lap. And here now, this woman, was another. At least, she had the potential to be.

The doctor straightened with a disapproving sigh. “This is ridiculous. A missing limb is not a death sentence. Amputees lead fulfilling lives every day.”

“No one said otherwise, Doctor,” Vlad said, scrutinizing Treadwell. “Decide, Major.”

Treadwell bit his lip, and shook his head…but Vlad could already smell it in the man’s stress sweat. He’d won.

~*~

Fulk found his wife in the conservatory. Alone, sitting on a low stone wall beside a thriving green plant. Her sister had been here, he could smell – the plant was her work. Annabel hummed quietly to herself when he sat down beside her, but didn’t move, still staring into the middle distance.

Fulk whined quietly in the back of his throat, inquiring.

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