Free An Hour of Need by Bella Forrest Page A

to observe Orlando, who looked rather awkward beneath everyone’s close scrutiny.
    I kept expecting every moment for the slight warmth in his skin to fade, and return to its former pallid, lackluster state. But it didn’t happen. Orlando was still pale, no doubt, but his complexion was closer to that of a naturally pale human than a… very unnaturally pale one.
    “You guys see what I’m seeing?” I whispered.
    “Yes,” Derek replied.
    Ibrahim’s forehead wrinkled in a deep set frown. “This is… curious. Curious indeed.”
    “Should I eat more of the stuff?” Orlando wondered, even as he looked sickened by the thought.
    “No,” Ibrahim replied quickly.
    “Why not?” Orlando asked.
    “Because it was killing you,” Ibrahim replied, exasperated. “I can now say with utmost certainty that this stuff is not supposed to be consumed neat. The effect it’s had on you is interesting, though—of course, we will have to see if it lasts longer than an hour… But if these trees really have something to do with the antidote, then I suspect they are part of a more complex recipe. These alone would kill you well before they ever cured you.”
    “How do you really know that for sure though?” Orlando pressed.
    Ibrahim widened his eyes. “Didn’t it feel like it was killing you?”
    “Yes,” Orlando admitted.
    Ibrahim blew out. “I mean,” he said, rubbing a palm over his forehead, “as I said, this is not a species of tree that I have experience with. But I know enough about medicine to conclude with ninety-nine percent certainty that if I hadn’t made you vomit when I did, you wouldn’t be sitting upright now. In other words, I don’t think it’s wise to risk it.”
    “Then… if these trees are only part of the formula,” my grandmother Sofia said, “I wonder what on earth the other ingredients are?”
    Ibrahim stroked his dark goatee. “Hm. I would assume something powerful, yet non-toxic to the body, that could soften the effect of the tree’s poison… No idea what exactly. But I could take a bunch of these leaves—and some bark for good measure—back to the Sanctuary to experiment on with the other witches. Maybe we can even figure this out without the IBSI’s help…”
    “That would be a blessing,” I whispered. “But how long do you think it would take to figure out?”
    “You know I can’t answer that,” Ibrahim replied. “It could be an hour, if one of us had an epiphany, it could be weeks… or it could be never, if we’ve got the wrong end of the stick entirely here.”
    I glanced at my parents. They looked conflicted. “Well, Ibrahim,” my father said, running a hand through his hair, “why don’t you return and get started, at least. Gather as many witches as you can to help you and start working as fast as possible.”
    “I guess you’ll need some Bloodless to experiment on?” my mother asked.
    Ibrahim nodded grimly. “I’ll have to pick some up on the way back home. Won’t be too difficult, though. We will have to do our best not to kill any of the test subjects…”
    The warlock moved about the branch, cutting off generous chunks of leaves as well as bark shavings. He filled his backpack until it was bursting at the seams. Then, giving us one final nod, he vanished himself back to the portal.
    Our eyes roamed to Horatio—the only magic-wielder left among us now. He would need to take charge of transporting us places henceforward.
    “It would be quite uncanny if these trees really could reverse the Bloodless infection,” my great-grandfather Aiden said, running a palm along one of the smooth, broad leaves.
    “What do you mean?” I asked him.
    “Well, the Bloodless virus, or whatever you want to call it, is nothing but a mutation of the original vampirism introduced to humans by the Elders. As you know, Grace, from your history lessons, Aviary and Cruor were bitter enemies. I just think it would be oddly fitting if Aviary possessed a