“Jaren …”
“I have nothing, Brooke. My best friend was murdered today. Do you think I can ever go back to my team now?” He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears. “I can’t put the rest of the guys in danger. Does Mirko have the manpower to put someone on each of them? Even if he did, I doubt he’d sacrifice those people from watching over you to go watch strangers.”
I want to tell him if Mirko had the people, he’d do it, but Mirko thinks differently when it comes to me. He won’t sacrifice my safety to provide for anyone else’s protection. But that doesn’t make him bad. He’s still honorable and wants to protect others. But defending Mirko isn’t what Jaren needs from me.
“I’m powerless. In everything. I couldn’t do anything to keep David safe. I can’t make you want to be with me. I can’t bring David back, and I’m not strong enough to walk away from it all and start over somewhere else.” He turns back to the window.
The fact that he said it means he’s thought about leaving. “We’ll figure it out …”
“There’s nothing to figure out. It is what it is.” He drops his head and shakes it.
This joint misery is unbearable. I step up and wrap my arms around him, hugging him from behind.
His shoulders shake while he weeps.
Teardrops land on my clasped hands.
We’re too young to deal with so much pain and sorrow. And he was too young when his mom abandoned him and then his dad cut him off emotionally. He’s too young to lose his high school experience, and definitely too young to lose his best friend.
I can’t hold back anymore. The pain breaks through in tears streaming down my face.
Jaren turns and hugs me back.
It’s innocent—a friend needing a friend. Because I’m all he has in this moment. Things are awkward with our past, but none of that matters right now. I can be here for him, someone to hang onto when the rest of everything that ever mattered to him slips between his fingers, no matter how tight he squeezes them together.
I know, because I feel the same way.
Jaren’s always brought out my softer side. And not being with him doesn’t seem to close that off. Not even an hour ago, I was in a rage, hungry to kill a man. But standing this close to Jaren opens my heart. Tears I’ve fought back with anger are set free.
We stand in the hall, wrapped in each other’s arms, and cry. Cry for David, for the loss of each other, and everything else we’ve ever dreamed that has been shattered since that horrible night in his apartment.
I ache to tell him I still care for him—that I love him—but those words would be pointless. They won’t ease his pain or change the fact that I want to be with Mirko.
“Slatki,” Mirko says.
Jaren raises his head and wipes his eyes. I turn around.
Mirko doesn’t look at me with any accusation, and I smile at him, grateful he’s mature enough to understand I’m only being here for a friend.
“Kaitlynn’s awake and she’s not doing well.”
I release Jaren and rush toward Kaitlynn’s room, peering behind me to make sure he follows.
He swipes at his face again and then joins us.
Ace is outside Kaitlynn’s room when we reach it. He must’ve already dropped the body off with Garwin. It’s still weird for me to think of Garwin as a man who deals with darkness and secrets from a hidden world.
Mirko nods at Ace in greeting and opens Kaitlynn’s door for me.
Steve holds Rhonda in his arms as they speak with the doctor.
Kaitlynn whimpers, clutching her stomach.
“We’ve done everything we can,” the doctor whispers.
Rhonda breaks down.
Steve pulls her closer to his chest. “Well, can’t we up her dose of pain meds? She’s hurting.”
The glum doctor nods. “We’ll do everything we can to make her comfortable,” he says and leaves.
I run to Kaitlynn’s side. “Kaitlynn …” The ache in my heart bleeds into my voice.
“It hurts,” Kaitlynn cries. A deep “eeeeeeee” bubbles from her throat. Her eyes roll back into her head and she stiffens.
Her whole body trembles.
“Kaitlynn!” I hold her by her arms to stop the shaking. I’d just seen a man go through trembles very similar to hers. Then he died.
“My baby.” Rhonda cries harder and Steve runs from the room, probably to get the doctor.
Mirko rushes up from behind me and turns Kaitlynn on her side as her body seizes.
Tears blur my vision. “Help her,” I beg him.
He looks at me, as if torn between telling me Kaitlynn will be fine, and the truth.
And because he can’t tell me that, he says nothing.
That scares the crap out of me.
Where is her freaking nurse?
Kaitlynn’s body finally relaxes against the bed, and Mirko rolls her onto her back.
When I pull away, she opens her eyes, fully aware and making eye contact with me. “Save me,” she says and passes out.
“Ace, get her out of here,” Mirko says, pointing at Rhonda. “And find Steve.”
Ace faces Rhonda, and I can tell when the Sanjam kicks in. “We’re going to save your daughter, but we need you to stay out of the way in order to do it.”
“Please,” Rhonda begs. “Please save my little girl.”
“We will,” Ace says and leads her out of the room. He’ll keep Rhonda and Steve away so we can turn Kaitlynn. So we can save her.
Mirko turns and holds me by my shoulders as I shake. “I need you to get Zladislov down here. I’m leery of him now, but we’re going to need Pijawikan blood soon. Within an hour. I’m going to go find the doctor to get a blood transfusion started on her.”
I scowl. I haven’t even thought of that. Maybe it could’ve saved her. “Why didn’t they give her a transfusion earlier?”
“It wouldn’t have saved her,” Mirko says. “I’m only doing it because it gives her blood more oxygen and a better chance for the change to take place successfully.” He slides his hands down my arms, then turns and hustles out of the room.
I don’t have time to worry about what the doctors should’ve done for Kaitlynn. I only have time to try to save her.
I whip out my phone and dial my father. It goes straight to voicemail. “It’s Brooke. I need you down at the hospital. Call me as soon as you can.” I hang up and stare at the glowing screen.
I can’t accept the possibility that he could be behind David’s death.
I call back and again it goes to voicemail.
I call and call until two nurses rush in with a cart carrying tubing, packets of unfamiliar medical supplies, and bags of blood.
The nurse who attended to Kaitlynn earlier, Cindy, takes Kaitlynn’s blood pressure and writes in her chart, while the other nurse sets up a blood bag on the hanging rack.
When Cindy is done, she sticks a needle in Kaitlynn’s arm and connects it to the tubing stemming from the blood bag.
“How long is that gonna take?” I ask her.
“About an hour,” Cindy says. She and the other nurse watch Kaitlynn as the blood flows from the bag into Kaitlynn’s system.
Jaren sits on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his head resting in his hands.
A part of me wants to comfort him, but I’m too anxious about Kaitlynn to move from her side. I stare at the blood in the tube connected to her arm for what must be half an hour. Mirko still hasn’t come back yet.
I pull out my phone and call my father again.
Straight to voicemail.
I leave him another message, desperation clear in my voice. “Please. Don’t let my friend die.” I hang up and call Mirko. “He’s not answering.”
“He must still be in the Commissioners’ meeting.”
“Do you really think he’s behind the attacks?” I ask.
“I’m not sure what to think at this point. Something is going on, and until I figure it out, I can’t fully trust him. But I called Garw
in, and he’s going to see what he can do about finding us a Pijawika.”
“Thank you,” I say, grateful he always thinks of plans to back up his plans. “Where are you?”
“I’m working on getting the donor for Kaitlynn.”
“In case Garwin doesn’t find anyone?”
“No. I’ll explain it to you when I get back.”
“Well, they say they’re almost done with the transfusion, so hurry up.”
“All right. I’ll meet you in the morgue.”
“The morgue?” I choke.
“For the change. It will give us more privacy.”
I exhale on a shaky, relieved breath, “Oh, ’kay.”
“That ought to do it,” Cindy says and pulls the needle out of Kaitlynn’s arm. “Let’s get her downstairs.” She says it like she’s on autopilot.
Mirko must have run into the two nurses and used Sanjam on them.
The other nurse unlocks the wheel release on Kaitlynn’s bed.
Cindy disconnects Kaitlynn from some of the machines and turns the bed so it faces the door. She transfers the fluid bags onto an IV pole attached to Kaitlynn’s bed and they wheel the bed out, Jaren and I following behind.
Jaren grabs my hand.
He lost his best friend today, and I have no idea if we can save mine.
I squeeze his hand tight. Whatever we face, whatever Kaitlynn goes through beyond her last words of “Save me,” we won’t be alone.
I can’t say the same for what David went through. A lump forms in my throat and I push the image of his body and torn flesh from my mind.
Cindy wheels Kaitlynn past the elevators. “Aren’t we taking her down?” I ask, worried the Sanjam might be wearing off.
“Yeah,” she says. “We have a dedicated elevator for the morgue.”
I don’t like that word. The morgue means death, and I can’t think about that and Kaitlynn in the same thought. It’s too heavy, too uncomfortable, too painful.
When we reach the end of the hall, Cindy pulls keys out of her pocket and places one into the wall, causing the elevator door to open. They push Kaitlynn inside and Jaren and I step in after.
The halogen lights flicker.
I rest my back against the cold, metal wall and close my eyes.
Dead people ride in this elevator all the time. Are their ghosts still lingering? One could be standing right next me and I’d never know it.
I shiver.
The elevator lurches and then slowly drops.
I’ve never liked elevators. Their jerky, unnatural movement always makes my stomach queasy, and the one we’re in is the worst. Beyond the fact that it transports the dead, it’s old and makes lots of creaking sounds.
I try not to imagine the elevator cords unraveling until they snap and we plunge to our painful deaths, but it’s too late.
The image is already there.
I take a few breaths, trying to slow my pulse and clear my ears of the elevator’s rickety whines.
Mirko’s going to save Kaitlynn.
I repeat the mantra over and over again until the elevator stops and Cindy moves to open the door.
I smell it before the doors unseal.
Not death. At least not in the way I would assume death smells. And it doesn’t remind me of bleach or any other chemical I can identify, either.
It’s a pungent, musky aroma I’ll never associate with anything else but a morgue.
I hope to never have to smell it again.
Cindy and the nurse push Kaitlynn out, Jaren and I trailing behind. They wheel her near a flat steel table and lock her wheels.
The placement feels wrong, like they’re going to lift her from her bed and place her on top of the steel slab to cut her open.
I glance around, but there doesn’t appear to be a better spot to put her.
The far wall has a huge hopper sink, and I don’t want to think about what gets washed down that drain.
I jerk my head back to focus on Kaitlynn because everything I see freaks me out and has me wondering how many bodies have been cut up in here.
The elevator door finally opens again.
Mirko pushes an older man in a bed similar to Kaitlynn’s and parks it next to her. “I don’t think you should be in here for this.” Mirko eyes Jaren.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jaren says. “They’re all I have left.” He squares his shoulders.
Mirko nods.
We switch our focus to the guy Mirko has wheeled in. Is this who has to die so Kaitlynn can turn?
“Who’s this?” I ask Mirko.
“This is Mr. Richter.” Mirko pats the man on the shoulder and smiles.
Mirko wheeled in a man on his deathbed. He’s scrawny and his hair is patchy and scant on his head. Looks as though he’s been through intense radiation. The man won’t be dying so Kaitlynn can live.
Mr. Richter is already dying.
“Did you talk to your father?” Mirko asks.
I grimace. “No. Did Garwin find anyone?”
He frowns. “No, no one.”
“Well, what do you need to do with the blood?” Jaren asks. “Couldn’t you use Brooke’s?”
“Hmm,” Mirko says and appraises me. “I’m not sure. I’ve never heard of a melez being used in the process.”
“Probably because we don’t last long enough to get the chance,” I add.
Jaren continues. “Well, she should have enough Pijawikan in her blood if she has the powers, right?”
“What would I have to do?” I ask.
Mirko peers at me for a beat. “Mr. Richter will need to drink from you. The blood will eat up his blood, he’ll die, and then the Pijawikan blood will alter in his dead body from the lack of oxygen. When it gets to the proper composition, Kaitlynn will have to drink Mr. Richter’s blood, and then the change can take place.”
Jaren gags slightly, and I hold back the urge.
I pull Mirko away from Mr. Richter. “Kaitlynn has to drink a dead man’s blood?” Before I drank blood, the idea of having to drink from the living disgusted me. What he’s described is repulsive.
“Yes, it won’t work if he’s still alive when she drinks it.”
“You’re sure? I’m not positive I can get her to agree to that.”
“What I’m not sure of is if she will survive the change. She may not be strong enough, but the only way for the change to take place is for the Pijawikan blood to move through his stomach via osmosis into the rest of his system, and then starve from the lack of oxygen and feed off his blood as the oxygen continues to dissipate. Once his blood gets to the proper point of putrefaction, Kaitlynn will drink it.”
I don’t understand what most of what he said means, but it doesn’t decrease the “eww” factor in the least. In fact, it increases it. “And Mr. Richter’s okay with this?”
“I can smell the death coating his skin. He knows he’s close to dying. I transferred money into his estate for his family. They’re not close, but he was motivated by being able to leave them something. That legacy is all he has left.”
Two seconds ago I was appalled and disgusted by the grotesque manner in which we need to save my best friend. But now my heart melts for Mirko. A lesser man could’ve used Sanjam on Mr. Richter to get him to agree.
Mirko left Mr. Richter’s freedom intact and paid him so we can save Kaitlynn.
I don’t care Jaren’s in the room with us and will see. I stand on my tiptoes and grab Mirko’s head, bringing him down to meet my lips. I block out the odor in the morgue, the horror of David’s death, the foulness we’ll have to put Kaitlynn through. I focus on Mirko.
I never imagined my life would take as many twists and turns as it has, but the one thing I will always be grateful for is him. “Thank you,” I whisper against his lips. The words aren’t adequate for what my heart longs to tell him.
He kisses me again, and I know he understands. He pulls away but remains close enough that his tongue brushes against my mouth when he licks his lips.
<
br /> It’s hot as hell.
My skin tingles and my gut clenches. My body responds to him regardless of where we stand.
His lip curls for a second before he drops it and steps back. “I’m not sure this will work, but we don’t have any other Pijawikas here. Will you let Mr. Richter drink from you?”
Normally I would be skittish about letting anyone other than Mirko drink from me, but I’m willing to do anything to save Kaitlynn. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“We have nothing else.” He strolls over to Mr. Richter and I follow him. “Are you ready?” he asks Mr. Richter.
“As ready as I’m eva’ gon’ be,” Mr. Richter says, accent thick in his weak voice.
“Give me your arm,” Mirko says.
I lift my hand into his.
He brings my wrist to his mouth and bites down.
Pain blossoms along with the blood, and I suck air in between my teeth. It hurts worse than last time.
Mirko licks some of the blood from my wound—which I think is purely for his own satisfaction than anything else—before he places my wrist in front of Mr. Richter and says, “Drink.”
Mr. Richter opens his mouth and somewhat lifts his head.
I place my wrist against his mouth, and his feeble tongue strokes against the gashes in my wrist. He struggles.
Empathy fills me as such a simple task takes so much from him. “Thank you.” I place my other hand on his shoulder and give him a small squeeze. My words still feel inadequate. Sure Mirko paid for him to be a part of this process, but how could I not be grateful to the man who has a crucial role in saving Kaitlynn’s life?
Mr. Richter drinks until he’s almost too weak to swallow anymore. Mirko pulls me away. “That should be good.”
Mr. Richter settles onto his pillow and closes his eyes.
I watch him for a few minutes until I’m sure I can’t see his chest moving anymore.
He’s dead.
It seems too simple, too quiet for a man to have just died. Every death I’ve witnessed is ugly or loud or gruesome. Mr. Richter’s is peaceful and serene. Well, as serene as you can get in death, I guess. And I’m glad he got that.
I’m also sad David and Lijepa didn’t.
Enemy Within (Vampire Born Trilogy, #2) Page 14