The Secrets of Blood and Bone

by Rebecca Alexander

  “He said something about me, as if I had a superpower of some sort. Talking with animals, or something.”

  He frowned, looking away, his eyes becoming unfocused as if he were trying to remember something. “Sadie and Maggie mentioned the idea of archetypes in relation to the Dannicks. Archetype theory has some proponents.”

  “I don’t understand it.”

  “Basically, you have hunter-gatherer groups in prehistory. The most efficient use of people is to divide up the tasks by what people are good at. Rather than everyone hunting, some people would be expert in predicting the animals’ behavior, reading their body language, understanding their calls, that sort of thing.” He sighed, leaning on the car. “Others would be better suited to the running down and killing of the prey.”

  She nodded. “Maggie explained something similar. Some group members would have intuitions about the weather, others would be healers. Some might even be magicians who worked magic for the group. Others might be skilled at dealing with children, others at creating artifacts like stone knives or skins. Her theory is that these people tended to interbreed, concentrating the genes.”

  “We know people are attracted to mates with scent and physical cues which are genetic, unconscious.” He stepped away from her.

  “Sir Henry said that’s what his family did, marrying within their class to produce warriors, soldiers. Hunters.” She paused. “Maybe there are characteristics that are stimulated by sorcery. That’s how healing spells work. They activate the healthy genes the body has.”

  He looked down for a moment, his face changing as thoughts chased through his mind.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack looked up into his face.

  “You’re different. Sometimes you’re the old Jack, like a half-tamed bird, like now. And other times, you are—more assertive, like you were a minute ago”

  “Alive. That’s what’s happened, Felix. I’m starting to feel alive. I can’t tell you what borrowed time is like, it’s such a struggle to do anything. But now, I feel like my body is waking up, I feel as if I can have a real life. I hardly need the circles and potions some days.”

  “But other days you still do?”

  She frowned. “I have good days and bad days, who doesn’t?”

  He took a breath, and opened his mouth as if about to say something. Instead, he sighed, and stepped away, his hands falling to his side. “Maggie’s in the kitchen, waiting for you. We can talk about it later.”

  “I’m not part of your research, Felix. This is me, finally with enough energy to be me.”

  “I’m just worried.”

  She stepped toward the house, filled with unfamiliar emotions. “Afraid for me or scared of me?”

  He didn’t answer, and she opened the door, catching Ches as he flung himself against her.

  “Stop it, stupid dog,” she said, but Ches stiffened, then pulled back. He sniffed her, almost as Powell had done, then sat, studying her closely. When she looked up, Maggie was observing from the kitchen doorway.

  “Come and eat.” Her words were impassive, but her eyes were watchful.

  Jack felt something odd, uncomfortable, and she shook her head.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, and kicked her boots into the basket under the stairs before heading up to the bathroom.

  It was an unexpected discovery. She supposed this was menstruation, after her first panic that bleeding couldn’t be normal. She had never had to worry about it before. Although her body had matured a little in her teens, in some way it had been more like a young teenager’s all her life. She had grown used to thinking of herself as naturally having a less feminine body, but as she stripped her outer layers off, she could see the changes in the mirror. Her breasts were more rounded, fuller, her hips filling out. She was still slim, but no one was going to mistake her for a boy anymore.

  It was only a few drops. She changed her underwear in the bedroom and went down to dinner.

  The kitchen was filled with the aroma of spices, the wave of different tangs almost overwhelming. For many years, her sense of smell had been muted by her semihibernated nature. Now, everything was intense, and her appetite had grown with the new sensations.

  “I made something from my new Indian cookery book,” Maggie said, putting pans on the table with a plate of warmed naan breads. Sadie sat on a chair with its back to the wall, even more pale than usual.

  “Great,” the girl said, with no enthusiasm. “But I still feel a bit sick.”

  “Eat something, you’ll be fine. It’s all organic.” She handed a plate to Jack.

  Sadie rolled her head along the wall to Jack to look at her. “What happened to you? You look like someone hit you.”

  “I went to see the wolf research place out by Grizedale. We got into a bit of an argument, that’s all. No one hit anyone. I just bumped my lip.” On his mouth. The memory of the kiss made warmth creep up her neck toward her face.

  Maggie dished Jack up some fragrant curry. “Watch out for cloves and cardamom pods,” she warned. “Did you see the wolves?”

  “I saw pictures.” The first taste of the food exploded on her tongue, the heat from the chilli, the buttery richness of the sauce. “This is fantastic. I’ll have a naan bread too.”

  “What are the wolves even doing there?” Sadie pushed a little rice around her plate. “Are they going to breed them, or something?”

  “They tried to, but the wolves are too stressed.” That was it. “Actually, I noticed the wolves were really odd in the pictures. Normally wolves ignore people, they just concentrate on the pack leader. But these were really focused on the one holding the camera. And there was something odd about all of them. They had shaved forepaws.”

  “Why…” Felix leaned forward. “Wolf blood. Are they testing them for something?”

  “Wolves don’t donate willingly,” Jack said. “I’m betting he has to dart or otherwise incapacitate the wolves. They are scared of him because he hurts them.”

  Sadie put down her fork. “That’s disgusting.”

  “What are they using it for?” Felix took a naan and tore a corner off. Without apparently thinking, he passed it down below table level.

  Jack laughed out loud. “You’re feeding Ches? Really?”

  He grinned back at her. “It’s the only way he lets me stay around. He likes being top dog.” He pressed his fingers together for a moment. “The Dannicks talk about their ‘warrior’ tradition.”

  “And Powell says he’s looking into the ‘savage nature’ of wolves.” Jack waved a piece of bread at him. “Which is crap, because there’s nothing savage about any animal, there’s just survival.”

  “Maybe the genetic trait he’s talking about is countered by some sort of dormant gene that they historically think of as a hunter or warrior gene. That is somehow activated by this…potion.”

  Jack looked at Maggie.

  Maggie shook her head, and brushed a white lock out of her eyes. “We use potions to reinforce magic, but it’s the ritual that is most important. Like Sadie’s symbols.”

  Felix made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough. “Magical beliefs—” he started, but Jack cut him off.

  “You don’t appreciate our magic, we get that. But you do know that the circles are necessary to our survival because you’ve seen us—” She glanced at Sadie to include her in the argument, and stopped.

  “I’m trying to understand your magic but—” he said, his voice irritated.

  Sadie was bone white, her eyes closed, chin sagged on her chest.

  “Shit! Maggie—” Jack pushed her chair up and pulled the corner of the table away. She leaped forward to catch Sadie as she slumped from the chair. “Help me!”

  Even as she eased the girl toward the floor, she could feel that something—Sadie—was missing. “Help me get her into the circles!”

  Felix, finally catching on, swept her aside and grabbed Sadie, half running into the front room with her. Jack pulled the coffee table from the
middle of the room and shouted at Felix to put her on the floor, in the center of the circles.

  Jack held Sadie’s face to breathe life into her, smelling the rankness of the choking sickness that stalked Sadie all the time. Felix felt for a pulse.

  “Nothing,” he said, his voice wavering. “How did—”

  “Out of the way.” Maggie swept in, matches and incense sticks in her hand. Jack started chest compressions, trying to remember how long Sadie had been quiet at the table. Breathe, breathe, one-two-three-four-five. She didn’t know if she was doing it right, but it had worked before.

  Maggie knelt on the other side, pulling Sadie’s jacket open, dragging up her T-shirts. Sadie was layered up like a mummy and her skin was cold. Jack remembered that, the cold, always, even on the brightest of summer days. The acrid scent of sulfur hit her as the match was lit, then one of the incense sticks that Maggie made by hand, stinking of burned herbs. Maggie blew the flame out, and Jack glanced up to see it glow.

  “Do we really need to—?” she whispered, but Maggie’s jaw muscles tensed and the orange tip of the stick sizzled against Sadie’s chest.

  Jack caught the reek of burned skin as Maggie traced a sigil, then lifted the ember to blow again. She forced herself to ignore Maggie, and resumed the compressions and breaths.

  “Come on, Sadie…” she entreated as Maggie started searing the teenager’s skin again. There, a tiny flinch from the muscles of Sadie’s arm, a twitch in a finger. She sat back. “Wait, she’s coming back.”

  But Maggie kept going. She blew again, then started the third sigil. This time Sadie whimpered, and turned her head. By the fourth burn, her eyes flickered open and she took a deeper breath.

  “Jack!” she moaned.

  Jack reached with one hand and caught Maggie’s wrist.

  “She needs at least one complete circle done,” Maggie hissed back.

  “Try the silver solution.”

  Tears were gathering in Sadie’s eyes and slipping down the side of her face. Her hand shook as she raised it to catch Jack’s sleeve. “Let her do it,” she breathed. “I—I feel like I’m dying.”

  Jack grasped her hand and tried to warm it with her own energy. “All right, but I’m staying right here.” She stared up at Maggie. “Maybe we should try blood.”

  Felix interrupted immediately. “No blood!” He moderated his tone, his hand gripping the dog’s collar. “We don’t know enough about the side effects.”

  Maggie traced the next sigils as lightly as she could, raising red weals rather than the blistering black marks from the first three. Sadie sobbed, her tight fingers trembling in Jack’s until the last sigil was done.

  “Move the sofa,” Jack said to Felix, getting no reaction from him. He looked appalled, disgusted even, frozen by the door. “Felix! Put the sofa in the middle of the room so we can lift Sadie onto it.”

  He complied as Maggie took Sadie’s legs, and Jack gently lifted her body. She smoothed the layers of clothing back as Sadie started shivering. Maggie opened the woodburner, and threw a handful of the same herbs on, closing the damper to drift smoke into the room.

  Felix stood back, waving coiling smoke away from his face. “What the hell was that?” He coughed, and sat on the other sofa, watching Maggie and Jack fuss over the white-faced girl, who even now looked barely conscious.

  “This is the nature of borrowed time, Felix.” Jack tucked a cushion behind Sadie’s shoulders and head. “She’s barely alive.” She turned to Sadie. “Maggie will get you some hot potion, OK?”

  Sadie nodded, then stared across the room at Felix. When Jack had first met her she had seemed short for fourteen, but already curvy. Now she was gaunt, her face wasted, her eyes huge in the bony sockets.

  “That was a bad one,” Sadie managed.

  Felix leaned forward. “This has happened before?”

  “A couple of times.” Sadie choked, putting her hands to her face. “Did I pass right out?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  “I thought I was getting better.” Sadie’s voice was weak.

  “I think you were,” said Jack. “I think we all took our eye off the ball. How much potion have you had today?” Jack tucked a throw around her. Sadie had chosen it from a charity shop, its bright colors reflecting some African culture. It made her skin look even more pale.

  “You gave me some for breakfast—I can’t remember.”

  “The bottle’s more than half full, that’s the problem.” Maggie handed Jack a mug which stank of hot herbal infusions. “Try and get her to drink the lot.”

  “You heard, kitten. All of it.” Jack looked at Felix and her voice hardened. “This is it, this is our life. Now do you understand why I am so much better? Why I want this for Sadie?”

  “You drank human blood.” His voice was low, and his face looked twisted with some sort of conflict. “All the traditions I have studied condemn it, they think it’s dangerous.”

  “But since I had one mouthful of your blood I haven’t had a single episode like this. I can run, I can go all day away from the circles, I am warm, Felix. Can you imagine what it’s like to be always cold? Always exhausted?” Jack choked on her anger. “And you still think we shouldn’t give Sadie the same advantage?”

  “Let’s talk about it outside.”

  Sadie spluttered on a sip of potion. “Don’t you dare!”

  “This affects Sadie more than any of us.” Jack watched conflicting emotions on Felix’s face.

  “We don’t know what the consequences of taking blood are.” Felix’s voice was flat. “I spoke to people who do drink blood—there are side effects. They wouldn’t tell me everything, but it’s already changed you. And the original symbols come from a text—”

  “I’ve changed for the better! I can run, I can—” Jack choked on the words. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be dying, really dying. It feels like if you just shut your eyes, you will stop breathing. You struggle to stay awake. It’s like—”

  “Drowning.” Sadie held the mug in both hands, looking over at Felix. “It’s like you are in cold water, and you feel it taking you under. You know the next breath you take will fill your lungs up and you will die.”

  “For God’s sake—” He put his head in his hands for a long moment. “You haven’t been listening to me, either of you. Kelley knew there was something dangerous about the ritual he used to create revenants. He created a monster when he gave Elizabeth Báthory human blood.”

  “You can’t compare me to her.” Jack took the empty mug hanging from Sadie’s fingers. “I’m still me.”

  “You really believe you’re the same old Jack? What did you do with Powell? You came back looking—”

  Jack leaned forward. “Is this all because I kissed Powell? Yes, that’s how I hurt my lip, I decided to kiss an attractive man. And you know what? I enjoyed it.”

  “And that’s out of character for you.” His voice was level but his face looked hurt.

  “How do you know—shit, how do I know? I’ve been trapped in some hellish half death since I was eleven years old. Now I’m finally getting to grow up and I’m starting to enjoy it.”

  “Jack.” Maggie’s voice was soft. “We’re all on the same team.”

  Jack jumped off the sofa. “No, we’re not! You took me because you wanted to save your baby from leukemia. You didn’t have a clue what you were going to do with me afterward, did you?”

  “I did my best for you. I loved you.” Maggie clenched her hands in front of her.

  “You didn’t expect me to live. You used me, you took my blood to save Charley. And you taught me to do the same to Sadie so I could sell her blood.” Overflowing with all the hurtful things she wanted—needed—to say, Jack spun on one heel and crashed out of the room. She grabbed her car keys from her coat pocket and opened the front door.

  “Jack, finish what you have to say.” Maggie stood in the doorway with tears streaking down her face. “Do you wish I had left you to die?”


  “Yes! No—but I can’t watch Sadie die, over and over again.”

  “We’ll be more careful,” Maggie said, a note of pleading in her voice. “You want what’s best for Sadie, I know, but Felix is right. There’s something different about you.”

  “Different, yes.” She stepped onto the garden path. “I’m sick of living like a crippled child.”

  She slammed the door behind her and stalked to the car. Under the rage was a whisper of exhilaration. Damn it, she was going to do something for herself.

  Chapter 26

  The Contarini are a strong, tall race originating from Padua, where they have a principal estate. They have business concerns within Venice and Florence also, and their sons and cousins are found in many ruling families. The present head of the family is Baldassarre Contarini, a learned alchemist and scholar. He was visited by an Edward Kelly [sic], a sorcerer from England, in the spring of 1586.

  —NICCOLÒ D’ALVIANO, Historica, 1589

  I was called into Contarini’s library, a richly decorated room where not just books but scientific instruments were displayed. There I was invited to eat meats and breads with him. We sat together and after a while he dismissed the servants, saying we would attend ourselves. I ate, but my fingers itched to explore the leather covers of the books.

  “You like the look of my library?” He laughed at me. “Yet I would wish for a collection such as Dee’s.”

  “It is the finest in England,” I boasted, though in truth I wondered if it would still be there when we returned.

  “Indeed. I hope to visit it when I travel to London.”

  I bowed my head politely, chewing the delicate slice of ham I had carved. I offered to pour my host some wine, which was gracefully accepted. He offered me some fruits, which I did not eschew. But the question hung in the air between us.

  “So, Master Kelley. How do you like our carving?”

  “It is very fine,” I said, “and much better preserved than Lord Dannick’s.”

  He sipped his wine. “Lord Dannick must confide in you a great deal to trust you with his family’s greatest artifact.”