Salvation's Kiss (Tales Of Mython Book 1) by Kathryn Jayne (old books to read .TXT) 📗

you hear me?” she asked softly, as she felt her friend stir beneath her touch. As she moved, Tess saw the fabric of her trouser leg part, affording her a glimpse of a large scar she knew her friend had not possessed before this night. Before she could examine it further, Ashley moved again.

“Tess, what…?” While her had eyes fluttered open, Tess could see they weren’t really focusing on anything.

“Come on, let’s get you up. Patrol must be due soon, let’s get you to the car. Do you remember what happened?”

“I collapsed.” She raised her hand to her face, feeling the swelling beneath her tentative touch. “Hit my head on the step, I think.”

Tess eyed her suspiciously. She could always tell when her friend was lying as her face always betrayed every emotion. Besides, a fall did not tear clothing or create a scar. Thinking better of voicing her observations, she remained silent, focusing instead on helping her friend put one foot before the other.

Ashley’s nightgown clung to her burning flesh as she tossed and turned on the leather sofa. Sweat trickled across her exposed skin, spurring into movement by the rapid heaving of her chest with each unsatisfying breath. Her arm peeled from the damp leather to cover her face in an attempt to nurse the throbbing behind her eyes. Along with the night-time fever, waking nightmares had haunted her, delirium in which her attackers returned for her. She retched as she recalled sinking her teeth into one of the attackers. Bile burned her throat as her mouth turned sour at the rekindled memory of his blood sliding down her throat, causing her to heave.

She still couldn’t understand why they had fled. But leaving her alive had been a curse in itself. She knew what was coming and it was her own fault. She had bitten him without thinking. When the morning alarm vibrated on her wrist, she groaned, peeling herself from her makeshift bed, half-crawling upstairs to the shower, a feat that had seemed impossible these last few nights, when she had surrendered herself to the sofa.

As the warm water massaged her aching limbs, she turned her leg, blinking back tears as she examined the savage scar and bite mark on the inside of her thigh. Whoever had done this to her had not been gentle, they had torn her flesh, leaving a jagged scar down her leg. Their intention had been to kill, but the blood tag near the place the razor-sharp teeth had pierced her spoke of a different fate now awaiting her. She would not become Atelís; consuming their blood had ensured she’d make a full transition. Tears streaked her cheeks, mingling with the lukewarm water of the shower as it rained down upon her, never quite making her feel cleansed. It would have been better if she had bled out before the blood had fully entered her system. Death would have been better than the fate awaiting her. How she came to survive was still hazy. She was certain they hadn’t sealed the wound before fleeing, they had dropped her too abruptly for such consideration.

Placing her head under the stream of water, she washed away her tears. In a single night they had stripped her of everything she was, everything she was destined to do. She only had a few more days left among humanity; a few more days to figure out what needed to be done. She did not want the change being forced upon her. She did not want to walk alongside a clan. Thoughts of ending her life mocked her. It was too late for death now. All such an action would do would be to hasten the curse’s activation.

Stepping from the shower, she felt a little better. The sound of her hand wiping the condensation from the mirror threatened to rekindle the persistent headache. Over the last few days, she had discovered the fever and pains were worse at night. As the sun rose and the day began, her discomfort almost faded into the background. Her vision fixed upon the fading bruise across her cheek. The fact it had started to fade slightly only served to reinforce the curse’s grasp on her.

“They were careless. If I don't help, you’ll bleed out.” The unknown voice echoed through her mind, as she stared at herself. A new realisation flooded her mind as the distorted memory of this voice returned. The person who sealed this hadn’t been one of those who had attacked her. She felt the questions rising in her again, wondering why her attackers had seemed to vanish into thin air when they clearly had possessed the advantage. She had been at their mercy, but they had dropped her and fled. Perhaps they had been scared of whoever had saved her.

Her eyes still burning from tears, she passed her brush through her wet hair, tying it back before dressing. It was a short day today, something she was thankful for. She had fought her way through lectures this week, fending off exhaustion and fever in silence.

A vibration drew her attention to her watch; it was the care home, once again notifying her not to report for her shift. Accessing her own biometric data, she saw her temperature was still elevated and gave a sigh. Since the attack, she had not been allowed to work. She had agreed to give them access to her health data when she took the job, and anyone thought to be a risk to the vulnerable residents was notified not to report for their duty. Unlike them, she knew what she had was not contagious, although eventually it would be the end of her.

Hastily dressing, she made herself presentable. Checking her funds, she sighed, weighing the choice between putting a request on Companionate—and paying to have another student nearby collect her on their way to the academy—or stopping by the pharmacy and using the money to buy some pain relief for her throbbing head. Settling