Author Note: I have updated this chapter based on feedback I received. It is not longer, which I am sorry for. I am working on the next chapter. My too long hiatus was fueled by biochemistry.

Chapter 15

He regained self awareness slowly, blinking without seeing. The edge had been taken off the light headedness. As for the nausea, it wasn't much better.

"He's waking up." That was Ettie's voice filled with panic and relief.

A groan was what he could muster for her. How his body ached everywhere, especially his side and shoulder. What had happened? He was exhausted. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of old spokes on a carriage. His body felt like he had been hit by one, a carriage that is. How his body ached everywhere, especially his side and shoulder. What had happened? He blinked until he could start to see Ettie's fuzzy outline.

"How are you feeling?" she pestered him as he oriented himself.

The fuzziness started to dim. Her face was finally distinguishable. Her brown eyes were no longer swimming circles about her skull, but they were red. Old tear streaks interrupted dirt and soot on her cheeks. "Ettie," he croaked. Splinters must have covered the inside of his throat.

"How are you feeling?" she asked again. Her hand found his. Her touch was so warm.

"Where are we?"

"Iosefka's Clinic. Adullam convinced Iosefka to let us inside and to treat you." She gave a weak smile.

Fredricx shook his head against the pillow. He examined himself. The image became crisper as he stared. His shirt had been replaced with a single needle, an IV, which was attached to an overturned vial by some rubber tubing. He couldn't read the label from where he was. The red color inside the tubing should have gave it away, but it didn't.

Looking at Ettie, he waited for her blearly outline to disappear. She was disheveled, hair pulled in every direction except how she normally wanted it. "Where are we?" Fredricx asked for the first time.

Ettie's brow pulled tight as if by needle and string. Her lips parted without words, head titled. "Iosefka's Clinic. Adullam brought you here, remember? You fought those beasts in Old Yharham."

"What?" he retorted, squinting at Ettie. Fredricx caught sight of his torso. His shoulder was covered with white gauze as was his hand. Surveying himself, his whole midsection was wrapped thickly with a tumor on the right side. What happened? "Where are we?" he inquired. Ettie was out of focus. His eyes would not cooperate with him. Her fingers gripped his hand tightly.

"I'll be back, Fredricx," her voice was soft. She released her grip, stood, and exited the room.

His attention was caught by the needle tied firmly in the bend of his arm. Red from the vial was being emptied into his body. What happened? Two women appeared in the doorway. One was Ettie. The other wasn't. "Ettie, where are we?"

It wasn't Ettie who spoke, but the other woman. She wore white. Light colored hair twisted up out of her face. "Hello, Fredricx. My name is Doctor Iosefka. You and Ettie are in my clinic. Ettie is helping me take care of you. You are hurt, but will get better." Giving an empathetic smile, she approached where he was laying and took hold of his currently occupied elbow. "You were gravely injured, but Hunter Adullam brought you to me. You must have left quite the impression on him. I thought you were a Hunter with the coat you were wearing." She stopped inspecting his the elbow. "This still looks good. Your body is taking the blood well aside from the disorientation."

"Blood?" Fredricx asked, blinking up at her. The pair was no longer hazy aside from his normal unsightliness. His clarity had unveiled itself again. He lifted his stuck elbow. "You ministered blood to me?" he asked more clearly. His eyebrows were knotted, wrinkles creasing his forehead. Was he angry? He wasn't sure.

Iosefka touched his forearm with her finger tips. This wasn't part of her medical examination. It was far more maternal. "You would have passed from us, Fredricx. You are a powerful man. It would have been a loss for Yharham."

Ettie asked what he was thinking. "What do you mean?"

"He has already been more successful against the Scourge of the beasts than many beginning Hunters. Men and women become Hunters in my clinic, but don't see the Yharham sunrise again. You would be a respectable Hunter, Fredricx. Ettie told me that you were a soldier."

He nodded, "I was. Now, I'm not much of anything."

"How was it being out there for you?" Ettie asked. "That was the most frightened I've ever been."

"Exhilarating." He made eye contact with Iosefka. "Do you minister the Hunter blood?"

Her head shook, retracting her touch. "I am not a doctor for the Healing Church. I am my own. The Blood Minister gives the Old Blood."

"Where is the Blood Minister?" Fredricx asked. "I want to speak with him."

"I'll go get him," Iosefka offered. She turned and exited the room.

Ettie eyed him. "What are you thinking?"

Fredricx's jaw was set, face twisted into a frown. "I am thinking that I have no job, no where to live, no way to support my wife, and most of all, I have no respect. I can do this. You heard Iosefka."

"It's dangerous. What if you are killed?"

His head shook, "I took that risk before. I lived through both Boer wars."

"Would the risk be worth it?" she asked. Her eyes were sad.

"Ettie, the wage is one hundred gold pieces."

"A year?" she exclaimed loudly, but then, clasped her hand over her mouth.

"No," Fredricx replied, "Per hunt."

Her jaw came unhinged. She sputtered, "One-one hundred gold, gold, pieces for one night?"

There was a nod.

Ettie sat back in her chair with a hand on her forehead, mouth still open slightly. "Wow."

A new figure appeared in the room. A sharp inhale now shaded the room in the fragrant smell of alcohol and blood. Fredricx was learning that the second was far more intoxicating.

A man, sitting haunched over in a wheelchair, came over toward them, but not before bumping into the small table and knocking a basin of Iosefka's tools onto the ground. It was simply left as figure chuckled to himself.

The man wore a comically large hat and a grey stitched overcoat. His hair and beard were more toward white and was as wiry as could be. The man was no gentleman of the razor. This man's eyes were covered in fraying bandages. Small slits allowed for vision. His skin was essentially grey, but it could have been the room's lighting.

"Oh, yes," the Blood Minister began, waving his hands, "Paleblood. You've come to the right place. Yharnam is the home of blood ministration." He paused, wheeling a little closer. "You need only unravel its mystery. But, where's an outsider like yourself to begin? Easy, with a bit of Yharnam blood of your own." The Blood Minister answered his own question.

Fredricxon Vinge was an outsider as he was born in Claethorpes. This place was on the fringe of British Colonial rule, bending and breaking to the Queen's wishes, while Yharham was a prized gem in the Queen's crown. Economic growth for the rich, and sickness for the poor. Blood for all. It was as plentiful as alcohol.

Despite this, he did have the Yharham blood as he spent most of his life in Yharham. Regardless of its beast plague, this sick city was home. It might not have been if Fredricx and Ettie had the shilling, but it was home. The Blood Minister was right.

"But first," he started again. His voice was jaded. It was as if he had said this line over and over, "But first, you will need a contract."

Fredricx had no hesitation. He was ready. "What are your terms?"

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The Blood Minister snickered, pulling out a dingy scroll of brown tinged paper from his pocket. Unrolling it in his knobby fingers, he smiled, or at least, his expression was some sort of mixture between a smile and smirk. "The terms are simple. I minister unto you the Hunter Blood. In exchange for the blood, you will be indebted with blood."

Ettie threw up her hand, "Hold on, what? What does that mean?"

"The Hunter Blood is a precious commodity. In order to be reimbursed for the blood, we require blood. However, when the debt is paid, and the Hunt is over, you will be given one hundred gold pieces and released from the contract. Then, you would be free to sign additional contracts with no debt for higher rates of gold."

"How long does it take for the debt to be paid?" Fredricx asked. His eyelids creased together.

"Successful Hunters can repay their debt in one Hunt. It's been done before. If you pass during the Hunt, then your debt is released. Depending on how much of the debt has been paid before the death, a small sum of gold can be passed on to a beneficiary of your choosing. However, if adverse effects occur during the transfusion, the Healing Church is not responsible."

Fredricx nodded. This would give him respect, a job, a purpose. One hundred pieces of gold would afford them a fine house with equally fine food. "I'll do it. Where do I sign?"

The Blood Minister's smile widened, showing crooked teeth. Retrieving a fountain pen from a hidden pocket, he greedily handed them both over to Fredricx. The paper was coarse in his hands. The edges were imperfect, full of impressions and tears, but the words were handprinted almost perfectly. There was a long line toward the top, which the Minister promptly pointed out. "You write your name here," he explained, "Just an X will suffice if you-..."

Fredricx waved him away, veins twitching above his brow. He inhaled through his mouth, "I can write." He penned his name, Fredricxon Vinge, on the line. The Minister had no reply. Toward the end, he assigned Henrietta Vinge as his beneficiary. Hopefully, this wouldn't be needed, but at least this way, Ettie would have something. He would at least be worth something in his death.

"Your signature at the end," the Blood Minister urged. He was leaning forward, cranning to see the contract signed. His rancid breath filled the space, souring the paper.

Ettie placed a hand on Fredricx's forearm, above the needle. Her touch was soft. Fingers slightly coarse from night's events. "Are you sure?" she asked, "This isn't your only choice, Fredricx."

He nodded. "I am sure." With an inhale, Fredricx signed the Hunter's contract. His signature was deliberately slow and careful, but he wasn't reconsidering. He was sure.

"Good. All signed and sealed," the Blood Minister paused, "Now, let's begin the transfusion." He pushed himself over to one of the shelves lining the walls and pulled off a small wooden box into his lap. Opening the box revealed several small blood vials. He selected one haphazardly without regard its sharp end, wheeled back over to the bedside, and gripped Fredricx's closest arm. "Oh, don't you worry," he soothed, pressing another needle into Fredricx's skin.

It penetrated. A rush hit him at once. The wave of nausea returned. He could vomit again. Head falling forward, he caught Ettie's wide eyes. Her fingers squeezed him. "It'll be fine," he murmured as the room grew fuzzy around him once again until it was completely dark.

"Whatever happens," the Minister uttered, "You may think it all a mere bad dream."

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