"It won't kill me?"
I stayed where I was.
Slowly, I began to unbutton my coat.
One.
Two.
The coat slid to the floor.
Underneath was a thin silk blouse.
I pulled the collar open.
Below my collarbone, right over my heart.
The skin there was a mass of needle holes.
New wounds layered over old ones.
In some places the skin had scabbed over hard and dark purple; in others, a yellowish fluid was still weeping out.
Three years. Thirty-six times.
Every time, the thickest needle, driven into the same spot.
Norman's eyes went to that patch of skin.
His pupils flinched.
He turned his face away.
Wouldn't look.
"I already told Dr. Finch to use as fine a needle as he could."
His voice was a little dry.
But he didn't stop.
"Corinne's still short on her dose this month."
"Since you're here, we'll take the blood today."
I looked at him.
And laughed.
"And if I say no?"
Norman's face turned to ice.
"Jill, don't make me use force."
He took out his phone and dialed a number.
"Dr. Finch, bring your things up. Second floor."
Corinne sat on the couch.
Staring at the needle marks on my chest.
Something she couldn't quite hide flickered in her eyes. Satisfaction.
Tears washed it away fast enough.
"Does it really hurt that much, sis?"
"I'm sorry. It's all my fault."
"If I hadn't drawn the snakes away from you back then, I'd be the one suffering now."
I walked over.
Stopped in front of the couch.
Norman went rigid at once, watching me the way you'd watch an enemy.
"You know exactly how you fell down there."
I looked at Corinne.
"You tried to steal the sacred heir's place and failed. The hex turned on you."
"That cold venom in your body is the highlands punishing you."
The color drained from Corinne's face.
She grabbed Norman's arm hard.
Her nails dug into his flesh.
"She's lying, Norman."
"She just doesn't want to save me."
Norman pulled her in against him.
"Don't be afraid. I believe you."
The doorbell rang.
Dr. Finch came in carrying his medical case.
When he saw me, he froze for a second.
Then lowered his head.
"Mr. Stephens. Ma'am."
"Draw the blood."
Norman didn't waste words.
Dr. Finch opened the case and took out that thick syringe I knew far too well.
I stepped back.
Norman came straight over and seized my wrist.
His grip was strong.
I couldn't break free.
"Norman, I didn't take the heart-guard elixir today."
I looked into his eyes.
"Draw it now and I'll go into shock."
Norman frowned.
He turned to Dr. Finch.
Dr. Finch pushed his glasses up.
"Mr. Stephens, ma'am is genuinely weak, but two hundred milliliters should still—"
"You hear that?"
Norman cut him off and turned back to me.
"You won't die."
He pressed me down onto the couch.
Corinne was sitting right beside me.
Close enough that I could smell that rotting, medicinal scent on her.
Dr. Finch came over.
An alcohol swab wiped across my chest.
Cold.
Piercing.
The instant the needle went in.
I bit through my lip.
My blood was drawn out, little by little.
My vision started to blur.
In my ears was the faint hum of the machine.
And Corinne's held-back breathing.
When it was done.
Dr. Finch pulled the needle out.
I didn't even have the strength to sit up. I slid straight to the floor.
The floor was cold.
Norman carried the freshly drawn blood off toward the kitchen.
A dozen or so minutes passed.
He came back out with a bowl of steaming broth.
Crouched in front of me.
Held the bowl to my lips.
"There now. Drink it."
His voice had gone gentle again.
Like a devoted husband.
"Dr. Finch said your blood's been low lately, so I added ginseng, just for you."
"Drink it, and next month we won't draw any."
I looked at that bowl of broth.
Brown liquid, my ghost-white face reflected in it.
I didn't open my mouth.
"Last month, you said the same thing."
