Vivienne Von Vexx's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

Inside the chapel, the air was cold and still. Vivienne knelt beside the hunter on the stone floor. His linen wrappings had darkened from white to deep red. The blood crept out in slow petals, soaking through the cloth and pooling beneath him. She could smell it. She could taste it on the back of her tongue. She pressed her palms flat to the floor and tried not to breathe. Above them, the weathered altar stood crooked, its melted candles dribbled down old stone, its wilted flowers brown at the edges. She stared at it. She would not look at his throat. She would not look at the bandage. Her teeth ached. Her hands began to tremble against the cold floor. Vivienne turned her face away and caught her own reflection in the dark stained glass behind the altar. Pale skin. Wet red eyes. The problem, looking back at her. She thought of the face she carried, and how he was bleeding to death three feet away, and how she was the danger now. She closed her eyes. She pictured her brothers' tired faces. Then she tore a strip from her own coat. She crawled to him without breathing. She pressed the fresh cloth hard against the wound and held it there until the bleeding slowed. She did not bite. She did not taste. When his breath steadied under her hand, she sat back against the cold wall and shook. She had won this round. But her restraint had a limit, and now she knew exactly where it was.