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Time's Convert: A Novel(153)

Author:Deborah Harkness

“I can make the burn go away,” Marcus said. He crouched down next to his friend—his brother.

“No, Marcus,” Gallowglass said.

“It will hurt like hell at first, but you won’t feel much pain after that,” Marcus continued, as if his cousin hadn’t spoken. “It takes a bit of getting used to, but you’ll have to drink blood to survive. And you’ll have to learn to hunt. You never could bait a fishhook, never mind bring down a deer, but I’ll teach you.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Gallowglass grabbed Marcus by his collar and hauled him to his feet. “You’re too young to start a family.”

“Let go of me, Gallowglass.” Marcus’s voice was even, but he was prepared to strangle the man if his cousin refused. The more time that passed, the more obvious his choice became and the more resolute he was to save Vanderslice’s life. “I’ve ripened now, you see, and I may not be your equal in size, or strength, or age, but that’s been true my whole life.”

Marcus’s intentions must have been clear in his expression. Gallowglass dropped him with a blistering oath that had Vanderslice wheezing with appreciation.

“He reminds me of that French kakker,” Vanderslice said. “What was his name? Beauclere or du Lac or something like that.”

“De Clermont,” Matthew and Gallowglass said in unison.

“That’s it. De Clermont. Wonder whatever happened to him?” Vanderslice said. “Probably got his head chopped off in France, along with his friend.”

“They’re both still alive, actually,” Marcus said. “The chevalier de Clermont saved me at Yorktown. I had a fever, like you.”

Vanderslice looked at Marcus skeptically. “Not even you can save me, Doc. I’m too far gone.”

“Yes I can,” Marcus said.

“Wanna bet?” Vanderslice was always up for a wager.

“Don’t do it, Marcus,” Gallowglass warned. “For the love of God, listen to me. Matthew was never supposed to make any more children, and you’ve promised not to do it, either. Granddad said—”

“Bugger off, Gallowglass,” Marcus said pleasantly. He was watching Vanderslice closely, and though he was lucid now, his heartbeat was skipping faster than Betsy had on her way to the tavern, and his breath was shallow. “Take Betsy with you.”

“If you break your word to Philippe, you’ll regret it,” Gallowglass said.

“He’ll have to find me first,” Marcus replied. “No man’s reach is indefinite, Gallowglass.”

“I thought that—once. We all believed it, once.” Gallowglass told him. “And we all learned better.”

“Thank you for bringing me to Philadelphia. Please tell Ysabeau where I am.” Marcus knew that so long as his grandmother knew where he was, Matthew would find out. And if Matthew knew, then he would inform Veronique—if she were still alive, that is. Marcus could do nothing to save Veronique, but Vanderslice was another matter.

“And that’s it. Thanks, and don’t let the door hit you on the arse on your way out?” Gallowglass snorted. He beckoned to Betsy, who was listening to their conversation with interest. “Come, lass. Let’s let these two brew up their cup of disaster and drink from it, while we take a walk and look for your mam.”

“Mumma’s sleeping,” Betsy said.

“We shall see if we can rouse her,” Gallowglass said, taking her by the hand. “You best wake up, too, Marcus. You can’t be turning everybody you love into wearhs. It’s not how the world works.”

“Good-bye, Gallowglass.” Marcus looked over his shoulder. “And I meant what I said. Thank you for bringing me to Philadelphia.”

Fever or no fever, this was where Marcus was supposed to be. Here, in this familiar place where he had saved some lives and been saved by Dr. Otto’s faith in him and the Associators’ friendship. Here, in Philadelphia, where he had drunk in the atmosphere of liberty and freedom in that heady summer of 1777.

When the sounds of Gallowglass’s heavy footsteps and Betsy’s piping voice had faded, Marcus looked down to discover that Vanderslice was studying him.

“You look exactly as you did fifteen years ago,” Vanderslice said. “What are you, Marcus?”

“A vampire.” Marcus settled back against the edge of Vanderslice’s filthy bed. “I drink blood. Animal blood. Human blood, too. It keeps me from aging. It keeps me from dying.”