“You’re going to replace his blood?” Zoe asked.
“That’s the plan.” He looked down at the great wound in Blake’s shoulder. It had missed the artery, but it was a jagged and ugly thing, all the same. “Beth, find some sterile solution. I want to clean the wound.”
“And not staunch the bleeding. Got it.” She opened the cabinet.
Declan looked out beyond the plastic walls. “And if you can reach out and goose everyone into getting back here faster, that would be good, too,” he told her.
“I’m screaming at them,” she assured him.
Declan looked down at Blake. The man’s eyes, which were normally a pleasant green color, were bloodshot and tinged red. They rolled wildly beneath the half-lowered lids.
The panic jumped closer to the surface and Declan pushed it back again, with sheer willpower. “You fight it, Blake, you hear?” he told him.
* * * * *
Beyond the sterile operating area, where the current donor was sitting with the needle in his arm, feeding Blake the fresh blood, there was nothing but blank concrete and insulated, windowless walls, also made of concrete.
Everyone who waited for news sat on the floor. Some laid on it, using coats for pillows. The AB negative donors that Diego and Sera had found were also waiting their turn.
Blake had stopped moving several hours ago. He lay with his eyes closed. Diego had his hearing racked up to the most sensitive. Blake hadn’t said a word since the vampeen had attacked him.
Beyond the walls, Diego could sense that it nearly dawn.
The need to move, to do something, anything, was building like a fever inside him. Sera, though, was resting with her head on his thigh, her hand in his and no matter how much he wanted to stride, to punch his way through steel and scream at the top of his lungs, he would not disturb her rest. His shirt was still damp from where she had finally broken down and wept with despair, which had drained all her emotions, giving her a kind of peace.
He vaguely wished he could do the same, only Blake might yet need him. He had to stay alert and ready to do whatever he could.
A hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up.
Lindal crouched down next to him. “Is there any news?” he asked, nodding toward the operating area.
“Keep your voice down,” Diego told him curtly. “I don’t want Sera woken. She’s just got to sleep.”
Lindal glanced at his sister. “She’s not sleeping.”
“She’s not awake,” Diego assured him. After all this time watching her and Blake sleep, he was an expert.
“It’s a state of…” Lindal frowned. “The closest human equivalent is self-induced hypnotic trance. It’s calming and restorative.”
“Good,” Diego said flatly.
“You’re human hot, Diego. You’re chewing up energy too fast. I could put you into the same sort of state. It would help.”
“Help me, maybe. It wouldn’t help Blake.” He turned his gaze back to the plastic enclosure.
“Going crazy with blood lust won’t help him,” Lindal replied.
“Look, prince high and mighty, I appreciate the offer. There is just no fucking way I am going to move from this spot, or pass out, or do anything except whatever it takes to make sure Blake gets through this, so do me a favor and fuck off.”
Lindal didn’t move. His eyes, which were so similar to Sera’s, didn’t show anything other than serenity. “You know, the first time I realized Sera was part of the third trinity and that you were one of the others, I wanted to kill you. You were soulless, angry…so angry. Nothing but murdering things moved you. Alexander told me to wait and see and he was right. The trinity changed you.”
“Thanks,” Diego said dryly.
“You make Sera happy, you and Blake,” Lindal said, his voice low. “There hasn’t been a lot of happiness in her life, until you came along. I’ve never said it, but for your part in her happiness, I am grateful. So understand, Diego Savage, that I am here to help you and Blake and I can see you’re just about vibrating off the floor. You have to calm down, or you’ll be useless when he needs you.”
“I’m already fucking useless,” Diego ground out. “All I’m good at is killing things, as you say. This…this…I’m….” He swallowed. “It should be me on that bed. Blake, Sera, they both do good in this world.”
Lindal’s hand squeezed Diego’s shoulder once more. “They can only do that good because you’re there for them.”
Diego couldn’t breathe, which normally wasn’t a problem. Now, the need to draw in air was overwhelming. His chest was locked, his throat tight. He couldn’t look at Lindal. He couldn’t focus on anything, because pain was a novelty and it was tearing through him, reminding him of his humanity, reacquainting him with the fact that even vampires were vulnerable to loss.
His vision blurred and the same ache that was tearing at his throat made his eyes ache.
Lindal didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. For that, Diego forgave him every insult and slur the elf had ever dished out. Diego sat there, unable to move while the tears leaked from him, each one gouging out a piece of his soul and Lindal didn’t take advantage of it. He just waited, instead.
The pain eased. The tears stopped flowing. Diego could draw a breath.
Astonishingly, he felt calm, drained of the need to punch through concrete. He also felt light and clear headed.
So when Declan settled on the concrete in front of him and crossed his legs, he was able to look at him calmly. “I guess this is the family conference,” Diego said. “You get to brace us for the bad news, now.”
Declan glanced at Lindal.
“I’ll go,” Lindal said, standing up.
“No, stay,” Diego told him. He looked at Declan. “He’s family.”
Lindal sat on the floor next to Diego, one knee cocked and his arm around it.
Gently, Diego shook Sera and lifted her up, so she was leaning against him. Her hand tightened in his.
Declan cleared his throat. “The good news is, we’ve stopped the turning.”
Diego breathed heavily, riding out his reaction.
Sera closed her eyes.
“The new blood did what I was hoping it would do,” Declan added. “Whatever the element is in a vampeen bite that turns humans, it was diluted to the point of ineffectiveness by the influx of untainted blood. His eyes returned to normal about an hour ago.”
“And the bad news, doc?” Diego said.
Declan threaded his hands together. “Have the three of you ever talked about the future? Sera is immortal and you’re essentially so, Diego. Blake is human, though. Did you ever talk about….”
“Turning him?” Sera whispered. Her grip on Diego’s hand tightened again.
Diego stared at him. “He lost too much blood…” he breathed.
“Direct transfusion is dangerous. When he was fighting off the vampeen toxin, it was the lesser of two evils. It was always going to be a gamble, though. His injury—the bite itself—was severe. Without that trauma, he might have had the strength to pull through. Now, you have a decision to make.” He got to his feet. “I’m afraid there isn’t much time in which to make it either. I’ll be waiting.”
He headed back to the operating area, weaving through clumps of people on the floor.
“There’s no decision,” Diego said flatly. “We turn him.”
“Blake tried to walk away from the trinity once before,” Lindal pointed out. “Will he appreciate being made a permanent part of this world?”
“He already believes he is,” Sera replied, with heat in her voice.
“You’re the only one who thinks leaving is an option,” Diego told him.
Lindal’s jaw sagged. He looked as though Diego had punched him in the face.
Diego got to his feet and helped Sera to hers. “Let’s go see Blake.”
Sera took his hand. “I can’t wait to see his face when he finds out you’re his maker.” She looked up at Diego, her eyes sparkling. “And ju
st think, Diego. Both of you can bite me in bed…”
Diego kept the happy little thought front and center. It helped ward off any worry about all the things that might still go wrong with this.
* * * * *
Cole shook Zoe awake and held the coffee out to her as she sat up, scrubbing at her hair and face. She had found the darkest corner in the warehouse to lie down and rest for a few minutes. That had been two hours ago. Declan had insisted she be left to sleep. Cole and he were close enough to hold Declan in place.
“What’s happening?” she asked, taking the coffee. She looked at the brightly lit operating area. There were half a dozen people in there now. All she could see from this angle was the back of the raised bed, the tops of people’s heads and the banks of equipment around the bed.
Cole lowered himself down to the concrete and rested his back against the wall. He had expected it to feel cold and it didn’t. Many every day practicalities like the relative heat of objects compared to his vampire-cold body he was still adjusting to. “They’re going to turn him.”
“To a vampeen?”
“Vampire. The vampeen toxin is gone.”
Zoe blew out her breath. “Then the wound was too severe. I thought it might be.”
“He’s lucky to have the option,” Cole added.
“Then…you don’t mind that we turned you?”
Startled, Cole looked at her. “No! God, no. Whatever made you think I did mind?”
“You never said anything, after. Well, you barely talked at all for a while.”
“I had to remember how,” Cole admitted. “It was easier to growl.”
Zoe shivered. “Cole….”
“What?”
“Would you…I mean…later, when I get older, or if I’m ever injured like Blake…would you turn me?”
He picked up her hand. “I don’t think I could stand living in a world without you in it. When the time comes, yes, I’ll turn you.”
“And after,” she pressed. “Even if…” She licked her lips. “If Declan goes away again, will you still want to?”
Cole took the coffee from her hand, put it on the ground and pulled her into his lap. “I’ll still want to,” he assured her and kissed her. “I never thought I could ever love anyone after Declan, yet I did love you. That will never change, no matter what.”
* * * * *
Once Blake had been removed to a self-contained, secure location where Diego could ease him through the transition to vampire, Declan told Beth curtly to go home and sleep.
Beth found the energy to jump back to the apartment, only she knew there would be no sleep for her.
Lindal was sprawled in the armchair, doing his version of snoring, which was a heavy, deeply relaxed and audible breathing.
Zack was standing at the range, stirring something in a pot.
“That smells delicious,” Beth said, sniffing.
“I could tell you were hungry,” Zack said over his shoulder. He ladled the soup into the waiting bowl and pushed it across the counter where the placemat and spoon waited. “Besides, I wanted something pleasant to hand over to you along with these.” He picked up a notepad and put it in front of the bowl.
Beth sat on the stool and picked up the spoon. “I’m too tired to focus on your ancient handwriting. What is it?”
“Messages. Frantic ones, mostly.”
“Of course.” She sipped the soup. It tasted as good as it smelled. It helped that she was as famished as Zack had sensed. “What’s the most critical one?”
Zack grimaced. “That one isn’t on this list.”
“The elves?” Beth guessed. She glanced at Lindal. “Let me guess. They want Lindal back. They want Sera back. They want to shut the portal right now and good luck winning the war against the Grimoré.” She sighed.
“You can’t really blame them,” Zack said. “They just lost their most senior general.”
She lowered her voice. “And the one person who might have taken the throne instead of Lindal.”
Zack looked as if he had been slapped. “Shit…I didn’t even think of that.”
“We’ve all been busy.”
“You still thought of it, though. Don’t make excuses for me,” Zack replied. He rubbed his thumb over the quartz surface of the counter, wiping at a spot that was invisible to Beth. “I don’t know how much longer they’ll wait for him, Beth.”
“You mean, they’ll just lock the door without him?”
“If they wanted to do that, they would have done it already. What’s to stop them from taking him and Sera back, whether they want to go or not? Larien just popped up here tonight, I mean, this morning—”
“Who is Larien? I don’t know that name.”
“I think she’s the general who is going to take over Amrod’s role. She was wearing the uniform. She didn’t give me her resume. She was highly pissed, in that Arctic chill way they have.”
Beth stared at him, her heart plodding unhappily along. She could feel the strain of too many decisions, too much urgency, in the ache in her chest. Sluggishly, she forced herself to think it through, to deal with this one critical issue in front of her and ignore the rest.
“The shielding on the warehouse is holding?” she asked.
He nodded. “The modulation to the algorithms worked.” Then he grimaced. “Everyone was too freaked out about Blake to stop and wonder how they could jump to a location inside shielding. I don’t think a single person asked me about the facility. They just wanted to hear about Blake.”
“They’ll get around to appreciating your work, Zack. I already do.” She pressed her hand on his.
“Eat,” he told her, returning her hand to the spoon.
“If the shielding is holding,” she said, picking up the spoon, “then maybe we should all camp there for a while.”
“The shielding won’t keep out the elves, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking that the shielding stops the Grimoré from locating us when we’re all in one place, which is how they found the old bunker. This new place is the only location where we can congregate without drawing attention to ourselves. The shielding will probably stop us from showing up on the elves’ radar, too. The elves don’t know about the new bunker. They have to find it first and if I’m right about the timing of the war, then this might all be over before they do find it.”
“They won’t appreciate us holding back information.”
“I’m fast reaching a point where I don’t give a damn whether they like it or not,” Beth said. “I’ll placate them enough to make sure they stay here and fight with us, but I’m never going to trust them. Not anymore.” She couldn’t help looking at Lindal. “No wonder he kept coming to Earth, looking for meaning.”
Zack straightened up from his slouch against the counter. “I’ll get some stuff together. When Lindal wakes, we can haul it over to the bunker. Once you’ve finished that soup, you’re going to bed.”
“No, Zack. There’s too much to do.”
He pulled the notepad covered in his sloping, copperplate handwriting from under her fingers. “No.” He said it flatly. “Sleep, or I’ll make you sleep. Lindal and I will hold the fort for a while.”
“Very well,” she said meekly and finished her soup, knowing he was right. The war would still be there when she woke, when she would be able to think beyond the risk of losing Lindal and look at the bigger threat of losing the world.
It was coming down to the wire. She could feel it like a building pressure in her head. A mistake now could be fatal.
Everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to produce the thing, the trick, the strategy, that would give them victory and she had no idea what the magic key was.
Sleep looked very attractive in comparison.
Chapter Eleven
The house Remmy had rented in New Mexico they had chosen primarily for its lack of neighbors and prying eyes. It sat in isolated splendor in the middle of open land, on the east side of Las Cruce
s, with mountains for a backdrop. The ground was so flat around the house and the land so dry that no one could approach the house without sending up a trail of dust, or having their silhouette stand out on the horizon, more than a mile away.
Octavia always landed them in the parched front yard outside the house, because she liked to take a deep lungful of the desert air before going inside, to orient herself. Jumping around the country as they did, it became very easy to lose track of the time of day, the day of the week and normal human concerns, such as weekends and public holidays.
That first deep breath always centered her and brought her life back into focus. Only this time, when she breathed in, Octavia froze. She looked around, sniffing.
Remmy was staring at the mountains.
“Something is wrong,” Ángel said, studying both of them.
“It’s not wrong exactly,” Octavia murmured. “Not wrong like vampeen feel, or the Grimoré. It’s more…something is out of place.”
“It might be a good idea to move inside,” Remmy said.
Octavia felt the ends of her hair brush the back of her elbow. A breeze ruffled the locks even harder, bathing her face with a fresh, sweet air that smelled of snow and green, growing things. “Too late, I think.”
The breeze became a wind, that whipped around them, plucking at their clothes and stinging their eyes.
Ángel pulled Octavia against him and Remmy pressed up behind her, both of them shielding her as the wind howled around them, tugging at them. She closed her eyes against the dust and sand scraping her face. Ángel put his hand over her cheek, protecting it.
Then the wind moved. It didn’t stop. In fact, the banshee scream of it grew louder. It did move away from them, leaving them in the calm center of a very small, very tight cyclone. Inside the raging wind, sand, dirt, small bushes and more were whipping through the air, making the wind a wall that hid the rest of the world from them.
In the center where they stood, the air was calm. Above them, the sky was blue and cloudless.
Octavia pulled out her knife and held it up, looking around for the thing that was making her skin prickle.
Terra's Victory (Destiny's Trinities Book 7) Page 10