Frayed Ties (Ties, Book 1) | ✓

Chapter 27

Danya had hoped to wake up to news that the others had returned, but he had no such luck. There had been no word from them.

Yore was still extremely ill, but Wyke reported that he was starting to stabilise and Danya could agree that he at least seemed no worse than he had last time Danya had seen him. The others would surely return today and then his treatment could continue uninterrupted and perhaps — just perhaps — he might be okay.

For now all Danya could do was continue to heal him, though he was starting to run up against the limits of what he could do. He switched his focus to healing the delicate structures of the inside of Yore's nose. For a werewolf, smell was probably as valuable a sense as any other.

By the middle of the day Yore's condition had definitely improved. His breathing was less crackly and he no longer looked quite so frail. It was beginning to look like there might be hope for him, but the medical supplies they had on hand had run out and the others still hadn't returned.

Over the next several hours, Yore's condition started to slowly go down hill again. He grew feverish and sweaty, rapidly losing the fluids they'd managed to get into him through the IV. They tried getting him to drink again, but he still couldn't keep water down. Duffy wanted to refill the IV bags with regular water and use that, but Wyke was adamant that would only make things worse. Even boiled water from their tanks would not be sterile, and even if it were administering pure water that way would as likely kill him as help him.

Wyke and Duffy then had a long conversation about why they couldn't just inject him with someone else's blood, but Wyke's half was written so Danya missed a lot of it and didn't really understand. It seemed to be that there were different types of blood, and depending on which kind Yore had and which kind the other person had it could be completely fine or it could outright kill him.

Evening stretched to night and Danya grew tired, but he knew this was his last opportunity to do anything at all for Yore. By the time he woke up in the morning, Yore would have healed beyond Danya's ability to help him — or asphyxiated on his own flem in the night, if the sounds of his breathing were anything to go by.

Yore's condition was rapidly deteriorating. Danya helped sanitise his mums so that they could sit with him for a while, but listening to him struggle to breathe only seemed to distress them. Wyke took them outside to discuss last ditch efforts to help their son, but it seemed unlikely that anything they could do now would save him even if it didn't outright kill him. Even if the others returned now, each breath Yore took was so laboured that it seemed unlikely he would survive long enough to start recovering again. Each time he took a breath in, it was uncertain another would follow.

There was a loud crash from outside and a blast of strange energy that sent a cold flush through Danya's body. Danya instinctively flung his arms over Yore and ducked his head down. In the eerie silence that followed he tried to lift his head, but he found that he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, his body instinctively shied back with an insistence that was too powerful to resist.

The strange energy drew closer, seeping into the room and creeping its way towards the bed, but Danya still couldn't lift his head, couldn't look.

"Puppy?" a melodic, child-like voice said, simultaneously whispered and loud, distant but right in Danya's ear. "Oh nooo, puppy."

"Don't." Danya managed to lift his head, but his eyes squeezed shut and refused to open. "He's sick. Don't hurt him."

Something brushed Danya's hair, but when he reached a hand up to swat at the air there was nothing there.

"Puppy sick," the voice said, sending shivers down Danya's spine. "Awww."

"What are you?" Danya asked.

"What are you?" the voice said, but Danya wasn't sure if it was countering him or just echoing his words.

Danya decided to treat it as a genuine question. "My name is Danya. I'm a free mage. You're those, uh... the things Zunda said she encountered, aren't you? The fae children?"

The voice giggled. It sounded like it was right next to his ear, but what he could feel of its energy told him that wasn't the case. The energy seemed to be constantly moving, but not in a smooth and continuous way. It was in one place and then suddenly it would be in another.

Danya shifted and Yore wheezed and choked on the flem in his lungs. When he settled again, his breathing sounded even worse.

"Listen, I'm hurting him. Will you let me move?"

"Yes, move! Move!" the voice said with an excited giggle.

Danya no longer felt restrained, though he still couldn't open his eyes. He didn't move. "You won't hurt him, will you?"

"Hurt puppy? No! Nooo..."

That didn't exactly sound convincing, but Yore was so close to death that it didn't matter much. Danya sat up. He felt the brush of tiny, cold fingers through his hair, on his shoulders, down his back, but before he could react they were gone again.

"Uh oh," the voice said, and then Yore took a long, choking breath in.