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When I awoke, I was, yet again, in the Dog's Infirmary. Groaning I sat up and put my hands in my face keeping my eyes closed.
"It was all a nightmare. I just hurt myself again." I whispered to myself.
"It wasn't a dream Copper."
Startled I turned to see Goodwin. She was glowing an eerie golden –brown color. I looked at my hands and say them covered in green spots. I felt my eyes beginning to overflow with tears. Dashing them away, I looked to Goodwin.
"How-," I struggled to keep my voice even, "How long have I been in here?"
"A few days. You've been babbling most of the time. Singing occasionally. You've a nice voice Beka. I'm surprised you never became a singer. You could've made more money doing that. Also it would have been less dangerous . . . less consequences." Goodwin looked away then began to flip her knife up into the air before catching it deftly by the handle.
"Yes . . . I suppose I could've."
We were both avoiding that tentative question. She didn't want to tell me first. So sighing I asked.
"How long?"
"A few weeks . . . the healers say three and a half."
"I see." I looked at my clenched hands. Covered in the telltale spots glaring up at me and they taunted me.
"What of my family? Have they been informed of my . . . condition?"
"Yes. They wanted to come see you right away but My Lord Provost prohibited from doing so. I suppose that he didn't want them to see their older sister weak and babbling like a common crack-nobbed mumper in the street."
"Goodwin. Did everyone in the building get out ok? Was there any casualties?"
"You would wonder about others conditions before your own." I looked at her, she sighed again, "All were safe other than the Fever stricken babe. Its mother is in custody and is being integrated as we speak. However, there is a quite a spell on her. Every time she appears to give out the name of her employer a seven welts appear on her back and cause a good hour of pain. So far none of mages have been successful with breaking it."
"Who would want me dead so badly?"
"Anyone. You've made yourself quite useful to us Dogs and have solved quite a few cases and caught many a mots and coves."
"Yes. I'm sorry Goodwin I can't seem to keep my thoughts straight. My eyes appear to be playing tricks on me. You're covered in a golden-brown light. Isn't that crazy?" I laughed a high wheezy laugh that didn't seem to belong in my voice.
"Its mage magic Copper. You're not going crazy. It's to keep your disease off of me."
"Ahh that explains how you're in the room with me." Smiling gimly steeling myself for my next request I leaned back into the pillows of my bed, "Goodwin, can you give me a mirror please?"
I saw Goodwin walk across the room and rummage through a drawer. A small wooden backed mirror was brought out. Handing it to me, I held it up to my face.
I could see the dark blue-purple bags under my icy bloodshot eyes. Lack of sleep most likely, my fair face had a dark blush over it. My hair was undone and free from a braid, it was seat soaked and matted. Wincing I put the mirror away from me.
"Here," Goodwin passed me a rawhide cord, "You'll want to put your hair back into a braid before you sleep again."
Nodding I began the braid winding it tight from the crown of my head. Mama had showed me how to do this when I was young. In turn, I showed it to my sisters after Mama passed.
A tear streamed down my face, I knew that in a few short weeks I would be with Mama. I hoped she would be proud of me. I hope she won't be angry for being a Dog. I settled my hands in my lap.
"I'll leave." Goodwin walked to the door before turning around and hugging me close, "Be a good Puppy and take whatever medicine that the Healers leave for you." I knew what that meant, 'You were a good and Loyal Dog. I love you now take care of yourself before you have to leave.' After quite a few years under Goodwin's tutelage, I knew what Goodwin meant even if she wasn't saying it directly.
"Don't worry. I'll be—" I stopped, 'I won't be 'fine' I'm dying in a bed. I'm not even dying of old age or from a wound from the street. I'm dying from a disease . . . like Mama. . .' A tear fell down and dripped onto the pallid sheets I lay in. I didn't even notice that Goodwin had left.
I leaned back into the pillows and stared out the window. I could see the pigeons gathering. Their Ghost riding their backs like fleas on a dog. I winced then turned my head to the blank wall. A few more tears leaked out of my pale gray-blue eyes. I refused to let more fall. I could hear the pigeons cooing in the background.
Then I heard the pigeons shriek in a flurry of pigeon mess and feathers they left their perch only to be replaced by a blonde head, night black eyes and a lean muscled body creeping through the window.
"Rosto." I breathed carefully; I stared as he made his way over to my bed his dark eyes ablaze.
"Beka." He whispered, his rough hands gripped my face forcing me to face him. My breathing quickened at his stormy expression. I felt my heart beat out of my chest, his form blocked out the light from the window, leaving the room in shadows. I couldn't read his face; his eyes trapped me. I saw him lean closer and shivered when I felt his hot breath on my ear.
"You broke your promise . . .," he hissed into my ear.
I was so frazzled by his sudden appearance; my body was reacting to him being so near to me, ". . . promise . . .?" I murmured.
"Yes. You promised me that you wouldn't get the Fever." He whispered perching himself on the edge of my bed, I shook myself.
"I never promised you I wouldn't get the Fever." I murmured giving him an ice glare.
"You as good as promised when you didn't take that damn potion that Lord Provost sent you those few months back." He gripped my bed sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white in the process.
"I'm not your LadyLove Rosto." I started, "I've never promised you anything in my life."
"You would be my LadyLove if you would just accept me already so we could stop dancing around it!"
"I-"
Then he grabbed my face and just kissed me hard. My eyes closed, I felt the itching in the back of my head to punch him, but his lips were so soft in contrast to his worn rough hands. It wasn't a gentle lover's kiss. It was a hungry one, demanding and focused.
He finally separated from me, "Don't you see? We could've had that. We can still have it. Just put away your damned pride Beka. I love you. I will not hurt you."
"But I'll hurt you. I'm dying Rosto. I've naught bu' three weeks left." I whispered my shyness taking over me, I spotted hands clutching the sheets.
"I still love you." Yelled Rosto, "When will it get through your head that I love you, I love you damn it!" Rosto turned and slammed his fists against the wooden wall of the infirmary, a few stray tears falling from his eyes, "I don't want to end up like Katie and Brian. Loving each other but to scared to tell each other until it was too late."
I felt myself choke, my eyes brimming, but I still kept a straight face through it all.
"I—I don't wanna be like them. So I won't." I whispered, I saw Rosto turn and I flinched at the hard look in his eyes.
"What do you mean?" Rosto leaned up close to my face, his eyes burning holes into my skin, "Tell me that you don't love me Beka, tell me that and I may not hurt as bad when you . . . leave us. Say it!"
I was hurting myself as well as Rosto, but he needed a chance to be happy. I didn't have a chance at all, so what was the point of telling him? Only to bring it down the moment that my spirit passes into the Black God's arms.
"I—I don't love you Rosto. I have never loved you in that manner and never will." There I said it; it is killing me more to say it than this damned Fever.
Rosto's eyes drooped, his hands released my blankets. Standing straight keeping his eyes out of my view, I heard the voice, a voice devoid of any emotion, "If that is how you truly feel Beka. Then I will take my leave. Sleep well Terrier." I flinched at his use of my name. Only with a slight teasing and almost loving manner did he use my street name.
I watched as he climbed out the window and leave my room, it was only then did I start to truly cry.
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