Author Note: The previous chapter has been updated. The gist of the changes is that the blood debt has now become subjective and vague. There is now no one million blood echo debt.

Chapter 16

Chuckling. Of all reactions, the Blood Minister chuckled. It was amused, but guttural, hacking centered on years of addiction. An addiction that he just bribed Fredricx into. Blood for gold. Blood for respect. Blood for fine things, a real home, a full pantry, fresh cuts of meat, fresh cuts of anything, silk dresses with full skirts, and Sunday hats with wide brims.

Anger was the emotion Ettie settled on. Useless, aristocratic daydreaming was just that. "What have you done?" she spat, feeling her body boil.

The chackling continued. The Blood Minister threw his head back, joints snapping and crackling in his old bones, and laughed. His hand waved her away dismissively with knobby fingers teetering.

"What did you do to Fredricx?" she continued, now rising to her feet. Her cheeks were hot.

"Woman," he began, "Woman, I merely did what was asked of me." The Blood Minister wheeled himself from the room, but not before slamming into another of Iosefka's side tables. Surgical tools, ladened bloodied with use, were cast to the floor.

She would pursue him. He wouldn't go far, not as if he could bound to the chair and eyes covered by criss-cross bandages. "Undo the transfusion," she demanded, stomping her feet as a petty child. She made up the distance between them, towering above the Minister in his wheelchair. Her fingernails, sooty from the night's events, snatched his coat into a tight fist. "Undo it."

There was a sickening noise behind her. Head whipping around, Ettie's brown eyes caught sight of Fredricx. His body was not still. Instead, he was thrashing wildly. Head colliding with the hard slab.

The anger quenched itself immediately. Instead, her heart cried, forcing air from her body and leaving a sensation of a frightened bird banging around on her insides. Her claws loosened as she lept toward him. "Help," she screamed so loud that it popped her own ears. Bells rung, but there were no bells.

Her palms went to Fredricx's head, attempting to still it. No, not enough. Foamy spittle formed at his lips, dampening his wavy beard. His eyes were open with small pupils that there focused on nothing. Her fingers tasted blood. His blood? Her blood? Regardless, it made her fingers slick and weak. Fredricx's thrashing twisted and crushed her hands between his skull and the unforgiving surface.

"Fredricx," she gasped, half screeching and half weeping, "Fredricx, please, no."

He would die. Dragging his unconscious body across Yharnam was not enough. It didn't matter. It was not enough. Luckily, it was never enough.

"Please," Ettie commanded. Her brow was pulled together so tightly that she thought she might lose it. The brow that is. The sanity was already gone. "No, no, no."

Ettie did not see Doctor Iosefka enter the room. However, Iosefka did. At once, there were arms pulling Ettie up by her elbow. She jerked around to see the Doctor, whose forehead was knitted with worry wrinkles. Her face was maternal, but her gloved grip was disciplinary. "We have to go."

"No." Her tone was on edge. Her jaw was defiant. The bird on her insides was no calmer that help had arrived.

"We have to get away."

Ettie tore her limb from Iosefka, glaring. "No." Her hand flexed, blood of unknown origin cascading down her fingers. Ettie could feel her thin, worn wedding band sliding off her momentarily loosened digits. It fell, kissing the floor and circling around the puddle. "Help him."

Iosefka wrenched Ettie's arm toward the door, who stumbled, smacking the ground with her joints. "We have to go. We are not safe here." The Doctor did not give her time to react or even think of a rebellious response as she dragged Ettie through the doorway into the next room. The door was slammed shut and locked from their side.

"There," Iosefka sighed, pushing loose tendrils of hair from her face. Her chest heaved, eyes dipping closed. "There," she repeated again, but this time, her voice was soft. Her posture was no longer pristine. "Ettie, let me explain."

"Why didn't you do anything?" Ettie was yelling. She reached for the lock of the door, but was intercepted again. "We have to help Fredricx."

The Doctor's fingers squeezed the panicking woman's, "Breathe. We were not safe."

Her nostrils expanded, "You didn't do anything for him. You are letting him die."

With a sharp inhale, Iosefka strangled each of Ettie's shoulders. It hurt. They made eye contact for the first time. "Ettie, once the Hunter blood is transfused, nothing will help a man. Fredricx will either live, die, or become a beast. It is out of my hands. We can only pray that Fredricx will emerge a Hunter."

Doctor Iosefka let go, and Ettie fell. She slumped over onto the floor, chest crushing her knees. She could cry. She would cry. She did cry.

Water clouded her vision as her hands locked and tugged at her own mop of hair. Her body trembled from an earthquake, but there was no earthquake.

Iosefka hugged her. The side of her face gingerly set against Ettie's heaving, twitching back. "Come, Ettie. Let me make you some tea."

A sob was all she could reply with. She pictured Fredricx from a few moments ago. His seizing and convulsing body, his blank eyes, the white drool drenching his face. The sound of the thrashing stuck with her, replaying itself over and over until Ettie would scream again at the Doctor.

This version of Fredricx was very different from their meeting years ago. Ettie had caught him, walking out of London's military headquarters. He was tall and handsome, dressed in his military garb with a sling over one arm. His face was clean shaven, hair cut short. This man had been smiling. They caught gazes by happenstance.

"I know you didn't want it to happen this way, Ettie," Iosefka sympathized, shattering Ettie's reminiscing. Her grip tightened, "I'm sorry."

"I don't know what to do," Ettie sighed. Swiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she replaced tears with a trail of blood. She sniffed.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

This time, the Doctor gently pulled Ettie to standing and led her down the corridor. It was long and lined with ornate, artisan panelling. Ettie was sat down on a bench and looked out of the comically large window on the wall across from her. She could see the roof of the lower story of the building. The moon was large, but had not yet fully descended on Yharnam.

"I have patients in these other rooms," she explained, "I can't risk exposing them to infection. I hope you understand. I'll be back." With that, Iosefka left her alone, and Ettie covered her still ringing ears, cradling her head in her palms. She was alone. What did she have without Fredricx? It was an unfortunate thing to be a widow in Yharnam. They never lived long if they didn't resort to remarriage or was no money to go back to her family in London.

Within a few minutes, Doctor Iosefka appeared in the hallway again. Brainshing a silver tray, she was walking it over to Ettie, who could see a tea kettle, two tea cups, steaming wash cloths, and a pile of bandages with a small pair of scissors.

For the first time, Doctor Iosefka screamed, turing pallid. Her mouth had been pulled into a sad smile until she say it. The tray slipped from her grip. Ettie watched as the tray petered against the ground, rocking all of its contents. The ceramic didn't last. The teacups had been converted to garbage. Steaming water spread across the floor, soaking into the rug. However, Ettie couldn't follow in the Doctor's likeness. A cry was choking her. Ettie shook. Pin pricks crawled over her whole body. The spastic, chest-dwelling bird was back.

Moments ago, the corridor's window had shattered. Glass sprayed the room like fine rain. With the shattering came a barrelling beast. The stench of blood from the beast was enough to make one light headed, regardless of the fear. It was chest height even on four legs. This wolf was no animal, but a beast. This wasn't the best part. It confronted them with sharp teeth, which were pulled taunted over slick gums, soaked red gums. It growled at them, at her.

XXXX

At once, another blur burst through the room. Another beast, she was sure. One for each of them. She didn't need to worry about widowhood. Her fate had already been decided.

However, this blur slammed on the back of the beast, grunting in a rather human way. The beast retaliated with a rear of its head and snap of its jaws. After landing or recovering, both parties rolled, springing to their feet or paws respectively. The blur was dressed in dark colors with flashes of royal red and white. A tricorn hat hugged the head, a mask pulled taunt around his face. Dark eyes caught hers and gave, of all things, a playful wink.

"Adullam," Ettie laughed, but it was sharp, shrill, and boarding on the edge of lunacy.

The Hunter didn't acknowledge her again, but instead, went about unsheathing a slender sword. It was long, thin. However, instead of turning the sword on the beast, Adullam turned on himself. The blade was quickly turned and brought down on his own person. The scribbles on the sword were lit up by the moon as he swiped the blade against the inside of his opposite bicep. Adullam didn't bother to flinch. There was a clean triangle of fabric missing from the jacket, but it looked as if it was purposefully missing.

Blood ran down the length of the weapon as the Hunter's mouthfold wrinkled. A smirk perhaps? Maybe, a cringe?

Next, like lightning, Adullam plunged the blade into the wolf beast's torso. The weapon and beast roared, causing Ettie's room to spin and ears to hear bells.

Surprisingly unphased, the blade was retracted and stabbed again. Adullam was caught by a revenge claw of the beast. This caused him to stumble backwards, but not to lose his momentum. With a breath, he shot up, lunging at the beast again. Blood matted the wolf's fur as sword penetrated flesh again.

This time, the beast was quicker. It pulled away, backing toward Iosefka and herself, with the weapon lodged in its skin.

There was another wrinkle of the fabric as Adullam produced a dagger. This one didn't sing or have the same ornate runes as the stuck weapon. It was plain, dull steel. The Hunter started to circle the beast in the narrow corridor. The beast returned the favor. After too many long moments, it was the wolf who sprang first.

Like a shadow, Adullam was suddenly on the beast's backside. The dagger was brought up and down, embedding itself into the neck of the monster. With his opposite hand, the sword was freed from its temporary fleshy sheath and returned again for good measure.

The corpse continued even though Adullam did not. It fell to the floor, skidding and not slowing until friction had got the best of it.

Huffing, the Hunter turned to them. The weapons were sheathed. The gloves were removed. The mask was pulled down from his lips. Yellowed teeth were showing as he smiled. "I trust you are uninjured," he stated to neither of them particularly.

Ettie nodded, mutely. Her body was still shaking despite her attempts to hug herself. She let out a choppy breath. Tension dissipated from her lungs, but not her muscles. Had she been holding her breath?

"Thank-Thank you, Good Hunter," Doctor Iosefka finally spoke with a quiver of her jaw. She did not meet his gaze. Instead, her head was respectfully dipped. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face, Hunter Adullam."

He nodded back to her, giving a small bow. He shook the weapons free of the excessive red, spraying the floor and his pant legs with droplets. They were sheathed one at a time. "I see that your clinic is no longer safe, Doctor."

"Thanks to you, we are safe once more," the Doctor replied curtly, eyeing the beast at her feet.

"I would like you both to come with me. I want to move you ladies to a safer location."

Iosefka glanced over to Ettie. They met gazes. "You should go with Hunter Adullam."

Ettie's head shook. She started to stutter, "You should come too, then."

"No," she stated simply, "I will continue to look after my patients. They will not withstand the Hunt without my care." The Doctor returned her attention to the Hunter again, "May I stitch that arm of yours?"

"No," he countered, "It will be for not. As long as the moon hangs low, I will bleed until the streets are clear."

"I will stay too, then."

"No," they both said in unison.

"Come with me, Ettie," Adullam offered his hand, "Allow me to tuck you away from the night. Fredricx will need someone to return too."

There was another glance to Iosefka, who was nodding, "I think you should go. I will be fine as I always am." The motherly smile returned.

"But," Ettie attempted, but she had nothing more to say. "How?" she asked, but no more words came out. "Fredricx," she stammered, finally settling, "What about Fredricx?"

"Fredricx will be fine. Hunters are made to withstand the Hunt. I've seen more than my fair share," he snorted. "Will you come with me, Ettie?"

Hesitantly, she nodded. She would have liked to have seen Fredricx when he woke up, but that alone was no guarantee. After the beast, there was no telling if more would come crashing through. Hunters were in too short of a supply to post themselves to broken windows of clinics.

"Before you go, can you do anything about this mess?" Iosefka gestured to the corpse, which was crowding the hallway, bent in an unnatural way even for such a unnatural creature.

Adullam's head shook, "You expect so much of me, Doctor." However, he pulled back on the gloves and the mask.

It took entirely too long, but the beast was pushed back out the window and down the roof of the building. Adullam somehow performed this inhuman feat by himself, but not without leaving a bloodied trail all the way through.

"Let's go, Ettie," he huffed, stepping through the broken window onto the roof. "This night is only going to get worse."

She followed him, feeling the shingles unsteady under her feet.