Blood Fever

By Lawrence Van Hoof

A young mother who lost her babies and brothers to the blood fever can't stop thinking about killing the man who promised her family would be safe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lawrence Van Hoof
• Release date: Apr 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463817681

Lawrence Van Hoof

Lawrence Van Hoof was born in Helmond, The Netherlands, and grew up in southwestern Ontario, Canada.He holds a B.Sc. in biochemistry from the University of Guelph.Currently he lives in Toronto, Canada, after teaching English for three years in South Korea.

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Blood Fever

by

Lawrence Van Hoof

This publication is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents portrayed are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

Copyright © Lawrence Van Hoof, 2020

Smashwords Edition, 2020

Cover design copyright © Lawrence Van Hoof

Cover art copyright © / Hein Nouwens, Shutterstock.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any form without written permission of the copyright owner except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Blood Fever

After the blood fever stole both of her babies and her three brothers, Jina spent part of each day staring at the knives hanging in the kitchen. She tried to distract herself by repeatedly scrubbing the floors and the hearth and the counters, but all she could think about was killing Father Lok. He had promised the Divine would protect them; had promised the faithful would be spared. He had even offered himself as proof, preaching about how he attended hundreds of the sick without suffering any ill effects while the sinners who served Patha and Yuna and Jyghor continued to die. Even the priestesses who followed the Great Mother succumbed to the blood fever, he often proclaimed.

Finally, three days into Oktover, in the midst of filling a bucket with water, Jina turned off the kitchen tap and pulled the boning knife of its hook. She sliced the edge of a wooden cutting board. The cut was quick and deep, so she dried her hands and wrapped the knife in a pair of old dishcloths and hid the bundle in a reed basket, under a wool shawl given to her during her pregnancy. Only a year ago.

Only a year ago, little Roland still safe in her belly, safe from—

Jina sucked in a breath and splashed cold water on her face. She dabbed away the water with a small towel, tucked the reed basket under one arm, and marched to the entrance of the sitting room—what had become the bedroom