Bannockburn Binding (Beloved Bloody Time) by Tracy Cooper-Posey

it? Or pig sty?”
    The man took a deep, shuddering breath. “Who are you?” he whispered, also in English. “Why does your lady carry such a purse?”
    Ophelia displayed the purse so he could better see the symbol. “You like this decoration?” she asked.
    “I know it,” he sighed.
    “Cáel Stelios?” Ryan asked.
    The man’s face rippled, as deep relief showed. For a moment Ryan thought he might cry. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he cleared his throat. “Thank god,” he said hoarsely. “I thought I was marooned in this terrible place.” There was nothing of the overbearing, rich and influential man left in him. Two weeks alone here, as a stranger with an English accent, would have provided him many life lessons he could not avoid by throwing money at them.
    “Where is Ezra, your traveller?” Ophelia asked him.
    “I can take you to him. But then you take me home, right?”
    “First, let us see Ezra and we’ll strategize from there,” Ryan told him.
    * * * * *
     
    The pig sty was off to the side, but enough of the stench seeped through the rough wooden walls to make the first few minutes in the tiny, dark lumber room almost unbearable. Finally, Ryan’s senses adjusted to the onslaught and he could see into the back of the room. “Ezra?” he asked.
    A low, agony-filled moan was his answer.
    He moved forward.
    “Watch, there’s a stool there,” Stelios called.
    “I can see it,” Ryan assured him, concentrating on the bundled of rags at the back of the room, lying upon a pile of hay. Stelios had clearly done what he could for him.
    “Ezra,” Ophelia called, slipping past Ryan to drop down by the bundle and gently turn it over.
    The sight that greeted them caught at Ryan’s chest. The Ezra he had known had been tall, energetic and enthusiastic about his work, about history and the rights of vampires. Ezra had been passionate about life— any life—and his constant arguments with his sister had been the stuff of legend at the agency.
    He would argue no more. His eyes rolled in his head and his skin was already showing the parched, crackling signs of advanced stasis poisoning. As Ophelia touched his shoulder, there was a dry sound, like cracking ice. She pulled her hand away and looked at Ryan with horror. She knew, then, that Ezra was beyond help.
    Stelios crouched down with them. “I thought you people couldn’t get sick,” he said hoarsely. “I thought you lived forever.”
    “When did this start to happen?” Ryan asked him.
    “About the third day we were here, on the crossing from England. He didn’t seem himself. Whacked out, like he was on scratch acid or something. Then he’d snap back in. I asked him what was wrong and he didn’t believe me when I told him what he’d been doing. The talking to himself, that stuff. He insisted I get my tour, because I’d paid for it…” Stelios hesitated, dropped his chin. “I didn’t think demanding it would do something like this.”
    “Most humans misunderstand us,” Ophelia said coolly.
    “Then why don’t you tell people about yourselves more?” Stelios snapped back. “You stayed locked up in that goddam station of yours, keeping to yourselves…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the place for it.” And he glanced at what was left of Ezra again.
    Guilt was eating the man alive, Ryan realized. He got to his feet. “We brought things with us, including local money, so we can get you some food. Ophelia has some freeze-dried instant meals in her purse, so you don’t have to wait until I get back.”
    “Where are you going?” Stelios cried, alarmed at being left behind.
    “To where we hid the backpack. I will be back.”
    Ezra began to convulse and as he moved he cried out in a strangled voice. The movement of his disintegrating body would have caused agony that had quite literally driven him beyond reason.
    “Hurry, Ryan,” Ophelia said and he could hear the despair in her voice.

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