A woman lay, naked, on a slab of marble. Her hands were clenched at her sides. Every muscle seemed taut, as though the was fleeing for her life, rather than laying dormant. Her outline was blurry. Sometimes it seemed as though Ruby could see through her flesh. Stark white flowers appeared to underlie her eyes, her mouth, her nipples, her groin. Her mouth opened and, although the rest of remained motionless, she sobbed like someone who was watching the death of a beloved child. There were no restraints that she could see.
Ruby touched the woman's wood brown arm with the tip of a finger. The woman quieted, although Ruby couldn't tell whether it was in comfort or in fear. Fearing to add more torment to the woman, Ruby traced the length of the vein that ran blue down her forearm. When she reached the palm, the woman's hand eased. Her hand was small and delicate. It opened like a flower unfurling, hoping that it could see the sunlight. Ruby placed her toughened hand in the palm. The fingers seized her own tightly, so tightly she worried her bones would be broken. She felt a scratch, as of a thorn, raking the palm of her hand. There was a jolt of pain and the grip eased.
The woman had calmed. Her eyes were open, a golden yellow in color. Her chest rose and fell slowly. Her face was no longer wan, color had returned to her cheeks. Even her hair, an exuberant tangle of black curls, seemed to have more life.
“Thank you for your gift of blood,” she said, rising gracefully. The woman was tall. Ruby had to step back in order to look her in the eyes. Her skin looked firm. Ruby no longer had the impression that she could see through it. Perhaps that had only been her mind wandering. But her palm was still wounded, a deep puncture that had been dragged down. Blood trickled down her wrist. Drops had started landing at her feet.
“I am Acacia.” She took Ruby's wrist and took a vial of clear liquid from a stand. When uncorked, it filled Ruby's nose with the scent of perfume, a rich deep smell that combined with the intoxication from the stream to dizzy her still more. Acacia poured the liquid on her wound. Ruby bit back a yelp and tried to pull back her hand. Acacia's grip was implacable. She had had worse hurts during her travels, but the liquid seemed to bite into her very marrow. Her skin raised in goose bumps which settled as a wave of heat rushed over her.
Her hand was whole.
Acacia smiled at her. Her teeth were even and white against deep red lips. Without sorrow and tension clouding her face, Ruby could see that she was scarcely older than she herself was. Ruby smiled back, uncaring of the last of her blood still working down her arm. “I'd love to learn who you are. But I must go before Scarlet snares me again.” She opened a window while she spoke.
“Wait.” Ruby shrugged off her house coat and handed it to the still naked woman, who wrapped <better verb> it around herself. “Will I see you again?” she asked. She was tired of these people who kept appearing and disappearing. Acacia's legs were through the window. The ground lay far below them. Ruby hadn't realize she was this high in the house.
“Yes. We share a bond now. I've tasted your blood and you've tasted my sap. I suspect we'll be drawn to each other, whether we wish to be or not. But,” she continued, as Ruby's face fell in disappointment, “if you wish to see me tonight, go to the ancient well to the east. Follow its light. I'll wait for you.” With those last words, she dropped.
Ruby rushed to the window, her hands rested on the sash. Acacia was dusting herself off, then she sprinted away. To the east, Ruby assumed. Without a sun, it was hard to tell. Just as she readied herself to leave, Acacia turned and waved, staring up at her. Ruby waved back.