Page 39 of The Tainted and the Tamed
Haruki grasped her shoulders, still asking her—no, begging her—for a response. Even in the shadows of the hanging lanterns, she could tell he was distraught. She couldn’t breathe. Though Haruki tried to press a handkerchief to her neck, Murasaki could not move her hands to allow it. She feared the whole of her throat would fall open if she did not press it together, her hands inadequate to staunch the flow of blood.
Firm arms enveloped her. Haruki’s chest pressed against her forehead, cradling her protectively as he shouted for anyone who had stayed behind. He ran with her in his arms.
Though the chairman’s mouth formed the doctor’s name, she felt a vibration in Haruki’s chest rather than heard it. They were still in the gardens, moving at such speed that the wind punished her already aching body. She was curled tightly against Haruki’s chest, blood now soaking through the collar and front of both their garments.
A light ignited in the upstairs of Dr. Setouchi’s outbuilding. Somehow holding her with one arm, Haruki slid open the outer door. They were through the genkan and inside the house in the blink of an eye, meeting the physician as he descended the stairs with a lamp.
“Dammit,” Dr. Setouchi cursed—the first clear words Murasaki could make out. “What happened?”
Even as he asked this, the doctor was already in action, calling up the stairs for someone to hurry. Moments later, a woman much younger than the doctor padded down the stairs.
Whomever she was, she was practiced in dealing with patients. She didn’t even blanch at the flow of blood. Within seconds, she had towels and bandages in Dr. Setouchi’s reach, all stacked neatly on a tray. A kit for stitching wounds came next—and then she was gone again.
“She’ll boil water so we can properly clean the wounds,” the doctor explained.
“There may have been grave dirt under her nails.”
“Her?”
“The—person who did this.”
Dr. Setouchi bobbed his head as he placed a towel below each of Murasaki’s hands, still holding her neck. “You’re right, I don’t want to know. I’m going to move your hands now, Ms. Mukai. It’s alright. It looks worse than it truly is—and feels worse, I’m certain.”
Dr. Setouchi began his ministrations, gently pulling Murasaki’s hands from around the wounds and replacing them with more towels.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and stitched,” the physician said.
Silent as a ghost, the pretty young woman had returned to Murasaki’s side, a bowl of steaming water next to alcohol on a tray. Murasaki longed to lean over it, to inhale that steam and offer her ravaged lungs some relief. But when she tried to move, she found herself pinned in place by Haruki’s seemingly soft touch.
Why was he so strong?
“Momoko,” Haruki said, his voice rough as he addressed the younger woman, “when was the last time you fought one of my kind?”
She shook her head, her long hair falling over her shoulder. “It’s been too long. I haven’t fed recently enough to try.”
“Then could you find the other chairmen in a crowd—a festival, even?”
“Don’t doubt my nose, Chairman,” she replied, her nostrils flaring to emphasize the point.
“Go.”
She was out the door before Murasaki blinked twice.
“So,” Dr. Setouchi said as he worked, red blooming in the bowl of piping hot water as he cleaned her wounds, “are we just trusting Ms. Mukai with all our secrets now, as well as our blood? How well do you know this new maid?”
A thunderous expression crossed Haruki’s face.
“Understood,” the physician replied, unruffled.
Murasaki stared up at the waddle and dab ceiling, mystified. None of this made sense. None of what she’d seen could be real. This—the state she was in now—could not be happening.
She blinked away tears.Our secrets.If there was something more than this going on, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Chapter 19
Haruki
Haruki was going to kill Chiyo. Properly this time.
