Fourth bit...

This is to the end of the first chapter of this part, which I'm now calling The Prussian. I'm up to 6800 words on it, and it's begun to flow together. Leonides and his crew are deciding to become a part of the modern world (as it was in 1871), which sets the stage for the next two or 3 parts. Oh, and the image I'm using for Geoffrey is of Pavel Novotny...

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To my surprise, he gasped but did not cry out. He knew how to tolerate pain. My respect for him exploded. Even after he took several deep, slow breaths, then drifted into unconsciousness. He had lost more blood than I thought.

I tasted the bullet. That which covered it was rich and elegant and filled me with happiness and a near sense of peace. He was of my lineage. He could be another Blood Angel.

But first, he would need to heal in a place where he would be well-protected.

That, of course, is when Geoffrey appeared on the other side of him, sitting cross-legged, elbows on his knees, watching me with anticipation.

"So he is one like you," he said. "Or will be, soon."

"Not just yet..."

"Yes, he is very pale."

I could only smile.

He offered me a yarrow poultice, saying, "I made more." Then he just had to add, "And did it correctly. You use too much mud."

"It's warm."

"That is how it should be applied...not that it matters for the horse."

I pressed the poultice into Franz's wound, glancing between it and Geoff. "But how did you manage? You didn't build a fire."

"Just laid it between some leaves and let them burn away."

"You carry a flint?"

He pulled a small round canister from his coat pocket, unscrewed its lid and showed me... "Safety matches. Swedish, no less. My Frenchman was of a modern frame of mind. Far more modern than I thought he would be, considering his actions." I must have given him one of my wary looks, because he added, "He had captured a page from the German side, and was about to cut his throat."

"Which makes him a normal human beast."

"More normal than you think. Most of the lad's clothes were torn away, and my meal had his pants around his knees, with his dick hard as a rock and the knife at his victim's throat. I would say it was not a loving embrace, and assumed you would approve of my...oh, interference."

"I rarely question your feeding choices. Was the boy hurt?"

"I would say I stopped things just in the nick of time." Spoken with such exaggerated emotion, one arm raised to the skies, it was comical. I know I gave him a look of complete incredulity, then. He winked. "It's from a melodrama, I saw in Paris. The Perils of Sandrine...or something like that."

"Will you be joining the theater?" I asked, fighting a laugh.

"I've thought about it. Might be fun. It's all indoors, so I could even do matinees. What do you think?"

"I think you would be brilliant. And also become very well-known."

"Yes, there is that. Notoriety is the bane of any vampire's existence. And one can grow weary of French cuisine so quickly. For example, the meal we were discussing. While his clothing was well tailored, and he had boots as fine as mine, they did not fit him well...and he also had this..." He held up a leather purse filled with coins. "Pfennigs and francs. From the blood on some, I'd say they came off his fallen comrades. Looting the dead. Of course, that does suggest he's part of high society."

I rolled my eyes. "That sort of thing crosses all social strata."

"I'm joking. Unfortunately, he was not pleasant enough for fun, so I only fed, looted his body, and used the first match on him."

I knew Geoff was good about being discreet, but I still had to ask, "Did the boy see any of that?"

Now he rolled his eyes at me. "He scampered off, terrified, crying for help. Didn't even look back. Even if he had, all he'd have seen was someone in a German coat grabbing the fat bastard, whom I carried to the other side of the forest, to be sure. My guess is, he was a scout or spy, so no one will miss him, for a while."

I groaned, but not unhappily. "Must you always live so dangerously?"

"That's half the fun."

I smoothed more of the poultice over Franz's head, then I placed my hand on his heart and could feel the warmth of it. Feel the beating of it. And having my fingers resting against his skin brought to me all the fires of want and need I had ever felt. A gentle moan whispered from me.

"May I touch him, now?" Geoff asked.

I had to regroup my thoughts so held back from saying anything. Just took his right hand and placed it next to mine, on Franz's chest. Our fingers almost mingled.

He drew in a deep breath, then a truly wicked grin returned and he cast a glance at the lad's groin and said, "Be nice to see what we have to look forward to."

Again, the little bastard was reading my thoughts. But not so fast.

"I'll take him to our chateau," I said. "You bring his horse. Then you may help me bathe him. And prepare him for a nice warm bed. We will introduce him to the others, in a day or two."

"He does look weak. How long do you think it will take him to recuperate?"

"About seven, maybe eight days."

"Will he accept remaining with us, for that long?"

"I will see to it."

Geoff rose, smirking down at me. "And will we be allowed to have fun with him like we did you?"

That jolted me to my feet and I gripped his coat. "If any of you so much as touch him without my expressed authorization, I will cut you off."

He looked at me, uncertainty in his eyes. Wariness. Even a depth of confusion I'd never seen in him, before.

"So he is my replacement," he said.

I hesitated. Released him. "No, Geoff, no..."

He backed over to the horse, saying, "We'll see."