by Lynsay Sands
Wyatt nodded. So far the man was making sense. Raising his eyebrows, he suggested, "And the nanos Sofia mentioned are what he came up with?"
"Yes," Tybo said. "But they aren't your typical tiny machines. He managed to bioengineer nanos that travel in blood, and use blood to propel themselves and perform their work as well as to replicate themselves. That way they could be injected into the body without fear of the body's immune system attacking them. They could also make more of themselves if higher numbers were needed for more serious wounds."
"Okay," Wyatt murmured when he paused. "Sounds brilliant."
"Yeah," Tybo agreed. "But after working to get his idea to that point, our scientist got lazy. Rather than develop nanos programmed for each different injury, or illness, he made one program with a map of the male and female body at their peak condition and the executive order for the nanos to ensure their host was at that peak condition. Once they'd accomplished that, they were supposed to self-destruct."
"What went wrong?" Wyatt asked, knowing something must have. There was no other explanation for these immortals who apparently had the nanos living inside them.
"Our mad scientist didn't consider that the body is always under attack. There's pollution, sunlight, airborne germs, bacteria on every surface . . ." He shrugged. "Even the simple passage of time. The nanos never finish their assigned task of getting their host at their peak. They never self-destruct, so just continue to work inside their host, keeping them from aging, getting ill, or--hell, even getting cavities. They just stay, toiling away and keeping their host forever healthy and forever young."
"What about the fangs?" Wyatt asked when he fell silent. "And the superhuman strength? I mean, Sofia carried G.G. around like a baby, and Elspeth was throwing everyone around like some crazy strong bull."
"Yeah," Tybo said with wry amusement. "They weren't part of the programming. The nanos apparently came up with that stuff themselves."
"What?" Wyatt asked with disbelief, but Tybo nodded.
"See, this mad scientist developed this stuff way back before Jesus Christ."
Wyatt stiffened, the first grains of disbelief slipping into his mind, and he said sarcastically, "Right. In Olympus."
"No. Atlantis," Tybo responded.
Wyatt snorted with disbelief.
"He's telling the truth this time," G.G. said a little breathlessly. "Atlantis did exist and it was more developed technologically than the rest of the world."
"They were isolated from the rest of the world by mountains and the sea and advanced much more quickly than everyone else," Tybo explained. "But then Atlantis fell. A series of earthquakes sent it sliding into the sea. The only survivors were the Atlanteans who had the nanos. But these nanos use a lot of blood to accomplish their work, more than the human body can produce. They handled that in Atlantis with blood transfusions, but when the survivors crawled out of the ruins of a collapsing Atlantis and joined the rest of the world, it was to find that world barely past the caveman stage.
"There were no doctors or scientists to help them, and no blood transfusions to supply the blood they needed to survive. Some killed themselves rather than suffer the agony the lack of blood caused. Some went crazy with blood hunger and were so desperate to get the blood they needed, they attacked the primitive people they encountered. But the nanos in another portion of them lived up to their programing. Their directive was to keep their host at their peak condition. They needed blood to accomplish that, so the nanos forced a sort of evolution on their hosts to get the blood they needed--the fangs, increased strength, night vision, mind reading, and the ability to control their prey."
"So the nanos turned you into vampires," Wyatt said quietly.
"The correct term would be immortals," Valerian said dryly, returning to the room. "Do not call us vampires."
"Told you," G.G. said with amusement.
Wyatt nodded an acknowledgment, but asked, "Why? It's what you are, isn't it?"
"No," Valerian snapped. "Vampires are dead, soulless corpses that crawl out of their graves at night to drink the blood of the living. We are neither dead nor soulless and do not have graves to crawl out of. We are merely mortals made nearly immortal by scientific advances."
"If you'd read one of the gazillion vampire romances out there, Valerian, you wouldn't mind being called a vampire."
Wyatt turned with a start at that amused comment and stared at the lovely redhead with silver-green eyes who stood behind him in the doorway.
"Vampires are considered sexy nowadays," she continued. "While immortals . . ." Wrinkling her nose, she shrugged. "No one's even heard of immortals."
"Which is just the way we like it," Valerian assured her.
"Let Rachel in, Wyatt," G.G. said, sounding relieved at her arrival.
"You're the doctor," Wyatt said, his gaze sliding past her to Elspeth even as he moved to the side.
"I looked at Elspeth on the way in. She's doing fine," Rachel told him gently as she entered the room.
Wyatt nodded, and then glanced at the woman following Rachel. He recalled Tybo saying the doctor had been shopping with someone named Sam. This woman appeared to be Sam. She was slender with long, wavy dark hair framing a face with large eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and a full mouth that all somehow worked together to make a very attractive face.
"Hi," she murmured, offering him her hand. "You must be Elspeth's life mate."
"Her what?" he asked with surprise.
"Er . . . Sam?" Tybo said with amusement. "We hadn't got around to explaining to him about LMs yet."
"Oh." Grimacing apologetically, she slipped past Wyatt to join Rachel as she walked around the desk to the injured giant.
Wyatt frowned after her and then shifted his gaze to Tybo in question as he recalled G.G. saying he was Elspeth's LM to Sofia. "So, an LM is a life mate?"
"It's what G.G. calls them," Valerian explained.
"Okay." Wyatt nodded. "So, what the hell is a life mate, then?"
Tybo opened his mouth to respond, but Elspeth chose that moment to start shrieking and thrashing about in the next room.
"So . . . life mates!"
Wyatt dragged his gaze away from the closed office door to gape at Tybo with disbelief when he shouted that. Cupping a hand to his ear, he yelled, "I'm sorry. Did you say something? I couldn't hear you over the headbanger music from the bar, and the screaming coming from the kitchen. You know, where Elspeth's suffering the agonies of hell?"
The moment Elspeth had begun to shriek, loud music had started thumping in the bar. Apparently, Sofia was trying to drown out the screaming so The Night Club's customers wouldn't be troubled by it. Wyatt had no idea if it was working in the bar area, but it wasn't back here. Elspeth's piercing cries seemed to drown everything else out for him. Turning to Rachel, he asked with frustration, "Can't you give her something to help with the pain?"
"I did," Rachel reminded him as she finished taping up G.G.'s ribs. "But at this point it will barely touch the pain. She'll just have to fight through it. If it makes you feel better, I can tell you she won't remember this when she wakes up. While the drugs can't do much for her pain when it's this bad, they will at least ensure she doesn't remember her suffering."
It didn't make him feel better. He would remember this. Wyatt suspected Elspeth's mangled face twisted in a rictus of pain and her frenzied shrieks and struggles against the chains would haunt his nightmares for years to come. He'd never seen such suffering before, and hoped to God he never did again. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he'd been relieved when Rachel and Tybo had forced him back into the office once Rachel had done all she could for her. He wanted to be there for Elspeth, but this was unbearable.
"So . . . life mates!" Tybo shouted again.
Wyatt released his breath on a sigh. "Fine! What the hell is a life mate?"
Now that he had his attention, Tybo paused briefly, as if considering how best to explain. Finally he said, "You know how wolves mate for life?"
&n
bsp; "What?" Wyatt asked with bewilderment, not following what wolves had to do with immortal life mates, and then, horror claiming him, he said, "Please tell me immortals aren't werewolves too."
"No, of course not," Tybo snapped, sounding annoyed. "Look, there are animals that mate for life, like wolves, coyotes, beavers--"
"Termites," Wyatt added dryly. "So what's that got to do with life mates?"
"Immortals mate for life too, and that's what a life mate is," he explained with exasperation. "An immortal's mate . . . for life."
"Well, at least until one of them dies," Valerian put in. "Then, if they're lucky, the survivor might find another life mate."
"And you guys think I'm that for Elspeth?"
All five of them nodded, and then G.G. said, "But Elspeth will fight it. As I mentioned, she's led a very sheltered life. She hoped to enjoy a little taste of freedom before she settles down with a life mate. Finding you right away wasn't in her plan."
Wyatt supposed he could understand that, but let it go for now and asked, "Why do you think we're life mates?"
"She couldn't read or control you," G.G. said solemnly.
Wyatt recalled him saying something about that before, and frowned. "Well, surely you all encounter a person once in a while you can't read?"
"The only mortals an immortal can't read are either insane, or life mates," Valerian assured him.
"And we know you aren't insane because the rest of us can all read you," Rachel assured him.
"Except me," G.G. added with wry amusement and said, "Mortal here, remember? Can't read anyone."
Wyatt nodded and turned back to peer at the immortals. They could read him? That was alarming. Had they been reading him all this time?
"Of course we have," Rachel said with amusement as she put away the items she'd been using to tend to G.G.'s ribs. "Aside from the fact that you're shrieking your thoughts at us, the way you've been gripping that knife would be rather alarming if we didn't read your mind to reassure ourselves that you weren't planning to use it on someone and were just holding it as a security blanket."
Wyatt glanced down at the knife in his hand. He'd forgot he still had it. Now he felt like a fool. A security blanket? The description made him think of Linus from Charlie Brown with his blanket against his face and his thumb in his mouth. Grimacing, he set the paring knife on the corner of G.G.'s desk and then paced back to the door, before swinging back to ask, "But Elspeth can't control me? You're sure about that?"
"She tried when you first came into The Night Club," G.G. told him. "Mortals aren't really welcome here. At least, not if they do not know about immortals. She tried to take control of you and send you out of the club, but couldn't. She admitted that while you were in the men's room."
"Oh," Wyatt frowned at this news. For a moment, he'd thought he found the explanation for that strange disassociated feeling he'd experienced when he'd found himself on the porch with her jacket in hand, and then when he'd pressed her face to his throat. He'd thought perhaps she'd controlled him, but if G.G. was right, it couldn't have been her.
Martine, he thought suddenly as he recalled Elspeth's words to her mother in front of the house. The using him business had obviously been about Elspeth's literally biting him. From what he could sort out, Martine had wanted her daughter to bite him to get the blood she'd been in need of. Probably because of her getting stabbed, he guessed. As for the Council and execution part of the conversation, he suspected biting wasn't allowed and might be punishable by death or something. He supposed he'd have to ask if that were the case.
"It is."
Wyatt glanced to Tybo uncertainly. "What is?"
"Biting mortals is against Council law here in North America except in cases of an emergency," Tybo explained. "And it is punishable by death. Martine should not have been trying to talk Elspeth into doing it."
"I'm thinking we should tell Mortimer about that," Valerian said quietly. "From what I'm reading from Wyatt's memory, she didn't just try to talk Elspeth into it. She took control of them both and tried to force it."
Wyatt glanced at him sharply as he wondered what else she'd controlled. Had she made them kiss? It was possible, he supposed, but he didn't think she'd controlled their response to the kiss.
"Why would she do something like that?" Rachel asked with dismay, distracting him. "It could have got Elspeth executed."
"Elspeth seemed to think Martine was trying to get her thrown out of the country and sent back to England," Wyatt told them solemnly as he recalled the argument he'd overheard.
"Really?" Rachel asked with amazement, and then shook her head. "I'd heard Martine had some control issues, but that's seriously messed up."
"Yeah, but that business about her getting stabbed might have pushed Martine over the edge," G.G. commented quietly, and when all eyes turned to him, he explained, "Elspeth was apparently stabbed this morning. And Martine is pretty overprotective. That would have freaked her out."
Tybo's phone rang just as the screaming died abruptly in the next room.
Spinning on his heel, Wyatt hurried to the door, yanked it open and rushed across the kitchen to peer down at Elspeth with concern. Much to his surprise, most of her injuries appeared to have healed. The shallower gashes and abrasions that had covered her were gone, while the deeper, more serious ones had healed into scabs and some even to scars. Even her face was healing, her features beginning to look like hers again. At least, she was recognizable as herself now. But she was also dead still and silent.
"Is she all right?" he asked fretfully when Rachel appeared beside him and began to examine Elspeth.
"Yes," Rachel said with a smile. "She's still healing, but the worst of it is over now. She should sleep through the rest."
"Good," Tybo said, putting his phone away as he joined them. "Because we have to get Elspeth home."
"What?" Wyatt asked with surprise.
"Martine is going ballistic. She's been calling Elspeth for hours and not gotten a response."
Wyatt's eyes widened. "I don't even know where her phone is. Or her purse."
"Probably strewn all over the road," G.G. said with a frown. "I doubt anything in her purse survived."
"The point is, Martine couldn't reach Elspeth," Tybo said, and then glanced to Wyatt and added, "And when she found out your grandmother couldn't get ahold of you either, she called Mortimer in a panic."
Cursing, Wyatt pulled out his phone and saw that he had twelve missed calls. He hadn't heard it ring, but then, between the loud music and Elspeth's screaming . . .
"I wouldn't bother calling your grandmother," Rachel said soothingly when he started to punch buttons to do just that. "Martine has probably taken control and soothed her already. She wouldn't have wanted her to call the police about the two of you going missing. Immortals avoid getting the authorities involved in anything."
"Did Mortimer tell Martine what happened and where Elspeth is?" G.G. asked with concern.
Tybo nodded. "She was going to head straight here, but Mortimer assured her we'd take her home at once."
"Elspeth's car's in the parking lot across the street," Wyatt told them.
"But her keys were probably in her purse," Tybo pointed out.
"Nope," Rachel said, pulling them from Elspeth's jacket pocket. "Unfortunately, they're as wrecked as she was," she added, grimacing as she looked through the broken bits of plastic and bent keys.
"We'll take her home in our SUV and arrange for her car to be picked up and new keys to be made tomorrow," Valerian said, taking the mess from her. Glancing to Elspeth, he asked, "You're sure she's through the pain part and won't suddenly come to screaming life in the car on the way to her place?"
Rachel hesitated and then sighed. "You know these things aren't always predictable. She should be done, but . . ." She shrugged helplessly.
"We'll keep her chained for the ride," Tybo decided. "And I'll sit with her in the back to be sure she doesn't wake up and cause problems."
Valer
ian nodded and then glanced at Wyatt. "Are you okay to drive?"
"Of course," he said at once. "I wasn't the one hurt."
"Yeah, but it's after 1 a.m. and it's been a long day for you," Tybo pointed out.
Wyatt's eyes widened incredulously. But he checked his phone again and saw that it was nearly one thirty in the morning. He had no idea where the last six and a half hours had gone. It hadn't seemed like he'd been here that long.
"I'll drive him," Rachel offered. "It's on our way home anyway." She glanced to Sam then and added, "If that's okay with you?"
"Sure. I'll follow and take you home from there," Sam said easily.
"It's all settled then," G.G. commented, and Wyatt noted the amusement on the man's face. The giant obviously thought it was funny how the immortals were settling his life for him, but Wyatt didn't care in that moment and allowed himself to be ushered from The Night Club.
It wasn't until he was in the passenger seat of his rental, following Tybo and Valerian's dark SUV home, that it occurred to him to wonder if he really wasn't upset at having his life decided for him, or if someone had taken control and ensured he would go along with their plans without causing a fuss. Wyatt had barely had the thought when he suddenly found himself growing weary, closing his eyes, and drifting off to sleep.
Seven
Elspeth was smiling when she opened her eyes, the remnants of sleep clinging and leaving her feeling sated and drowsy. She couldn't remember her dreams, but despite that was reluctant to wake up fully and abandon them, so let her eyes drift closed again. Only to have them pop open once more when a loud laugh disturbed her peaceful dozing.
Recalled to her unwanted guests, Elspeth groaned and dragged her pillow over her head, but when she felt a tug and pinch at her inner elbow, immediately pushed it away again to look at her arm. She stared with confusion at the catheter taped just below the bend of her arm and then followed the tube up to an empty IV bag that hung from a stand next to the bed. More disturbing than that, though, were the dried streaks of blood on her arm . . . and hand and fingers, she saw with a frown. On both arms and hands and sets of fingers, Elspeth realized as she reached to pull the catheter out of her arm.