Chapter ONE - Weebly

his head. “Pryce and Berson in one day. Ya’re movin’
up in the world, Ethan.”
Ethan didn’t say anything. It probably would have
amazed Henry to see the house in which Ethan had
grown up. His father had taken great pride in being able
to afford a home within a block of the Bristol Cathedral.
Ellis Kaille would have been ashamed to see his son
living in this single room on Cooper’s Alley.
“My thanks again, Henry. I’m in your debt.”
The old man gathered his bucket, cloths, and rum,
and paused at the door. “Not at all. Have a care
though. I don’ want t’ have t’ do this again. Never liked
blood o’ any kind.”
Ethan watched him go. Once Henry had descended
the wooden stairs, Ethan sat again and checked his ribs,
determining that only the one was broken. Taking a long
breath to prepare himself, he pushed the broken bone
back in place, gasping in agony, and fighting not to be
sick. When he had set the bone as best he could, he
pulled out his knife, cut his forearm, smeared some
blood on his side, and said, “Remedium ex cruore
evocatum.” Healing, conjured from blood.