It was midnight and Greg was still awake, agonizing over the choice he had to make. He was lying flat on his back in bed, ankles crossed and hands resting under his head when the sound of breaking glass interrupted his torturous consideration of his future. Eyes popping open, he turned his head toward the bedroom door and listened for a minute, but no other noise followed.
Deciding Lissianna must have dropped something, Greg almost ignored the sound and went back to debating his future, but then he thought better of it. He should at least go see if she had cut herself or needed any help, Greg decided, and sat up on the bed. Pushing the blankets aside, he swung his feet to the floor and stood to cross the room.
The silent darkness that met him as he stepped out of the bedroom made him pause, but it was the faint chill breeze running up the hall to whisper against his naked flesh that set the hair at the back of his neck on end. Something was wrong.
Greg almost turned back to pull on his jeans, but a sud-den fear for Lissianna stopped him. Instead, he moved silently up the hall; ears straining and eyes struggling to see more than the shadowy shapes in the gloom of the living room ahead.
He'd only taken a couple of steps when Greg heard the soft shush of the sliding doors in the dining room. The sound made him pause warily, then the cessation of the breeze that had alarmed him just moments before made his heart start to pound as he realized that someone had just left the house.
"Lissianna?" He called, hurrying forward. "Lissi?"
Fear gripped him when there was no response. Greg paused in the entrance to the living room and ran his hand over the wall in search of the switch he knew was there. He found and hit it, and blinding light immediately flooded the room. It left Greg blinking furiously in an effort to adjust to the sudden change from dark to light.
"Lissianna?" Despite suspecting they were already gone, he peered around the room, his eyes searching for an intruder. When his gaze landed on Lissianna's still form on the couch, Greg's heart skipped a beat, but it seemed to stop altogether when he spotted the stake sticking out of her chest.
"Oh Jesus," he breathed, then rushed forward. Sharp pain shot through his foot as he reached the coffee table, reminding him it had been the sound of breaking glass that had drawn him out here. Apparently, the sound hadn't been caused by the intruder breaking a window to get in. Hopping back on his uninjured foot, Greg glanced down at the shattered water glass on the floor beside the off-center coffee table. Whoever had done this must have knocked the table as they went to leave, sending the glass to the floor.
Greg plucked the piece of glass from his foot, then tossed it aside and continued to the couch, only to pause there, unsure what to do. Lissianna lay as still as death, her face completely devoid of color above the afghan covering her body. His gaze shifted reluctantly from her face to her chest. The afghan had been made in pale greens and blues, but was now sporting a large patch of red where the stake went through it, a patch that seemed to be growing by the second.
"Oh God." Greg hesitated, then--not knowing what else to do--he finally grabbed the stake and tugged it from her body. He winced at the resistance he received and the wet sucking sound it made as it finally slipped free. Greg tossed the stake aside in a move that did little to release the rage that was building inside him, alongside his fear and grief.
Lissianna lay so still and looked so pale, Greg feared she was dead, but his heart wouldn't accept the possibility. She couldn't die when he'd just found her. He'd waited thirty-five years for a woman like her, he'd never find another. He had to get her some help, he had to-- He had to save her... but first he had to get dressed.
Bending, Greg scooped up his T-shirt, the only item of clothing still left lying about. His jeans were in the bedroom, and Lissianna had obviously donned her clothes again before lying down earlier. After jerking the shirt on, Greg lifted her up into his arms, afghan and all, and turned back the way he'd come.
He hurried up the hall, unwilling to leave her alone and vulnerable again. Greg laid her gently on the bed in the bedroom, his gaze hardly leaving her face as he tugged on his jeans. He'd take her to his place and make some calls, he decided. Greg knew a lot of people in the health industry, he had connections at the hospital. Somehow, he'd get an IV and some blood for her and the nanos would heal her and everything would be fine, he assured himself.
Lissianna had insisted they should avoid their apartments because it would be the first place her family would look, but they couldn't stay at Debbie's. Her family had found her here. And surely if her family had already checked his apartment, it would be safe to go there.
Greg wasn't altogether sure about that, but he didn't feel he had a choice at the moment. His personal address book was there with the numbers of everyone he knew, people he needed to contact if he was going to save her. He had to go there, and he wasn't leaving Lissianna here by herself, so she was going as well.
Finished dressing, he moved back to her side and peered down at her. They were going to have to take a taxi to his apartment, but he couldn't take her as she was. Any cabby would freak out at the sight of her and immediately call the police and an ambulance. He had to clean her up and try to bandage the wound, then he could claim she was merely drunk and passed out or something.
Leaving her on the bed, Greg hurried into the en suite bathroom and retrieved several of Debbie's snow-white towels. He dropped them on the bed beside Lissianna, then moved to the closet to select a clean shirt to replace her blood-soaked one. He hesitated over his choice, finally choosing a black blouse that would help hide the blood if she should bleed through, then he returned to the bed and knelt beside it.
Greg scanned Lissianna's face before he started, looking desperately for any sign of life, but there was none to see. Taking a deep breath, he tugged the afghan aside, then quickly undid her blouse, trying not to look at the blood soaking the pure white silk.
His first sight of the jagged hole in her chest and the slow, thick blood oozing from it made Greg gag. Trying not to acknowledge the thought that no one could possibly survive such a serious injury, he swallowed back the bile in his throat and quickly cleaned away as much of the blood as he could.
The wound was nearly in the center of her chest and just above where the top of her bra started. Greg pressed a small hand towel over it, tucking half of the cloth under her bra to keep it in place, then he sat Lissianna up. He supported her with one hand while he stripped away her bloodstained blouse with the other. He then threw the ruined shirt onto the floor, grabbed the clean one he'd collected from the closet, and struggled to get her into it.
Once Greg had the fresh top on Lissianna and buttoned, he laid her back on the mattress. Standing then, he moved around to the other side of the bed and the phone that sat on a table next to it.
Being a city boy, Greg had a car for long trips and to drive to work where he had parking, but he often found it more convenient to take taxis anywhere else he might need to go. It saved a lot of time that would otherwise have been wasted hunting for a parking space. That being the case, he knew the phone number of one of the city cab services by heart and punched in the number without having to think about it.
As he rattled off the address, Greg found himself grateful that he'd paid attention and noted the street name and house number when they'd come that afternoon. He was also grateful when the dispatcher assured him the taxi would be there directly. The last thing he needed was time to think about what had happened and to worry over the state Lissianna was in.
Hanging up, Greg moved back around the bed. He lifted Lissianna into his arms and carried her to the door, then hesitated, suddenly worried that her attacker might have come back to finish the job. After all, surely Greg should have been a target as well? And he was still alive.
That thought made him frown and shift uncomfortably where he stood. He considered setting Lissianna down and searching the house, but didn't think he had time before the taxi arrived. He was also reluctant to leave Lissianna alone.
Gritting his teeth, Greg decided he'd just have to move quickly and hope for the best. Bending slightly to reach the door with the hand under her legs, he turned the knob and pulled it ajar. Greg then straightened and used his foot to open it the rest of the way.
The hall was as dark and silent as it had been the last time he'd entered it. This time there was no telltale breeze, though. He rushed toward the entrance to the living room, alert for any sign of another presence. A small puff of relief slipped from his lips when he reached the intersection of halls just before the entrance to the living room. The hall to the right led to the dining room and ended at the kitchen. Greg turned left and moved to the front door instead. Pausing there, he glanced out at the dark and empty street, then down at Lissianna. A frown curved his lips as he noted that the white towel stood out sharply where it stuck up above the neckline of the black blouse. The contrasting colors, along with its bulk, made its presence obvious.
Not wanting anything to draw the cabby's attention to her wounded state, Greg started back the way he'd come, then paused when he spotted the coat closet. He set Lis-sianna on a small bench that sat in a comer by the front door, positioning her so that she wouldn't slide off, then opened the closet.
"Thank you, Debbie," he murmured as he pulled a thick, quilted winter coat out of the closet. "I'll pay you back for this."
Greg managed to get the coat on Lissianna and carry her out to the road before the taxi arrived. He was standing on the sidewalk with Lissianna appearing to stand, leaning against him when the car pulled up, but the truth was that he was holding her upright. She was a deadweight. Silently sending up a prayer that this would work, he started forward when the taxi stopped on the street before him. Lissianna's body immediately began to fall.
Giving a forced laugh, Greg scooped her up and walked to the car.
"I think you've had just a little too much to drink, honey," he laughed as he managed to get the door open and maneuver both himself and her into the backseat.
"Is she all right?" the driver asked, swiveling in his seat to eye them suspiciously.
Greg shifted Lissianna in his lap so that her head fell against his neck, and lied, "Yeah. She just had a little too much to drink at her birthday party."
"Yeah?" The driver glanced toward the house and Greg followed his gaze, relieved to note that the living room and bedroom lights were still on so that it didn't look as empty as it was.
"We were supposed to sleep over after the party, but her sister has the most god-awful uncomfortable bed in the spare room," Greg went on nervously. "And I have to get some sleep before work tomorrow. You understand, don't you, honey?" he asked, and glanced down at the top of Lissianna's head where it lay against his chest, before adding, "Hmm, I think she's passed right out."
"Birthday party, huh?" the driver said, and there was definitely suspicion in his voice.
Understandable, Greg supposed, since it was Monday night and most people avoided holding parties on a week-night, saving it for the weekend.
"Yeah. Her thirtieth," he lied. "She isn't taking it well. Still, I don't know why they couldn't have the party on the weekend rather than a weeknight, but she and her sister insisted it had to be on the actual date. Women," Greg added with mild disgust, then fell silent and held his breath as he waited to see if he'd managed to allay the man's suspicions enough that he'd take them to his apartment... or if the fellow was going to grab his radio and call for the police to be sent out.
The driver was silent for a good long time, then he turned in his seat and arched an eyebrow at Greg. "So, you gonna tell me where you want to go, mister?"
Letting his breath out on a slow exhalation of relief, Greg managed a smile and gave the address for his apartment building, then settled back in the seat and peered down at Lissianna.
The ride seemed to take forever, though he knew that was a result of his worry about Lissianna, not a real reflection of the passing time. It wasn't until the cabby pulled the car to a stop in front of the building that Greg realized he had no money to pay for the trip. He had a stash of cash in his desk drawer in his apartment, but he'd have to get the doorman to wake up the super to let him in again to get to it.
He was about to explain all this to the driver, when the door on his side of the cab suddenly opened.
Glancing around with a start, Greg found himself staring at Lissianna's cousin, Thomas Argeneau.
"What happened?" Thomas asked, his concerned gaze moving over Lissianna.
"I'll explain inside," Greg muttered as he struggled out of the backseat. Thomas held his arms out to take Lissianna from him to make it easier, but he shook his head, unwilling to let her go. "Pay the driver for me, will you?"
Thomas opened the front door of the cab to ask how much the fare was as Greg found his feet and straightened with his burden. Lissianna's cousin paid the driver, closed both doors, then caught Greg's arm as he started for the front door of his apartment building.
"You can't go in. There's someone waiting in the hall upstairs in case you two show up here," he said. "Come with me."
Greg didn't hesitate to follow Thomas. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that the man loved Lissianna and would help her.
"What happened?" Thomas repeated as soon as he had Greg settled in the front seat of his Jeep, with Lissianna on his lap.
"They found us," Greg announced grimly, then asked the question that had been worrying him since he'd found Lissianna lying prone on the couch, "All those movies and books were wrong about the garlic and crosses, what about stakes?"
"What?" Thomas peered at him with confusion.
"Can being staked kill your people?" Greg clarified.
Thomas's eyes widened incredulously, then he leaned forward and tugged open Lissianna's coat.
Greg sat silent and tense as the other man undid the top buttons of her shirt, then spread the material to the sides. He found his eyes moving anxiously to her wound as Thomas pulled the towel up enough to see it.
"It looks a little smaller," he noted with relief.
"Christ!" Thomas said with disbelief. "That's smaller? What did they stab her with? A telephone post?"
"A stake," Greg said quietly.
"Who staked her?" Thomas let the towel lie flat against her skin again and lay the sides of the shirt back over it, not bothering to button it up.
"One of your people I guess," Greg said, as Thomas pulled the coat closed over her to keep her warm.
Thomas shook his head with a frown. "It couldn't have been."
"Who else would be after her?" He saw that the man wasn't convinced he was right and didn't have time to argue about it. "We can worry about who later; right now Lissianna needs blood." He hesitated, then added, "I'd appreciate your help with this, but only if you promise you won't call or take us anywhere near your uncle or Marguerite. If you can't promise, then I'm taking her out of here right now and--"
"Okay. I promise," Thomas said quickly, as Greg reached for the door handle.
He hesitated.
"I promise," he repeated, then pulled his keys from a pocket and started the Jeep engine, only to pause.
"What's the matter?" Greg asked.
"I'm trying to decide where to take her."
"Not back to her mother's," Greg said firmly. He wasn't giving them the opportunity to finish what they'd started.
"No. I couldn't take you there anyway. Lissianna would never forgive me if something happened to you," he said, then Thomas shifted the Jeep into gear and pulled out into the scanty traffic of the early-morning Toronto streets.
"Where are we going?" Greg asked.
"To Mirabeau's," he answered. "After Lucian and Marguerite finished raking us over the coals for standing back and allowing you two to run away, Mira decided she might have overstayed her welcome. I drove her home earlier this evening. She'll help."
Greg nodded and relaxed wearily in his seat for the ride, knowing everything would be all right. Mirabeau would be willing to help them, more importantly, she would have blood.
"I don't have any blood."
"What?" Thomas and Greg asked the question at the same time, both of them staring at Mirabeau with disbelief and horror as they each straightened from opposite sides of the bed where she'd had them place Lissianna.
Mirabeau's home turned out to be a large penthouse apartment just a couple of blocks from Greg's place. It had only taken minutes to get here, but on realizing it was also set up with a doorman as his place was, Greg had worried about getting inside without the police being called in. While the black shirt he'd put on Lissianna hid the blood that was seeping through the towel over her wound, his white shirt didn't, and it was sporting a huge red patch where he'd pressed Lissianna to him to get out of the Jeep. He'd been positive the doorman would take one look at that, then at Lissianna's pale deathlike features and pick up his phone to call the police. However, Greg had forgotten who he was with.
Thomas had ushered him to the door, cast one glance at the approaching doorman, and the man had turned and walked back to his station without a word. Lissianna's cousin had obviously put the whammy on him. The doorman hadn't even glanced at them after that. Greg sus-pected the fellow wouldn't even have a memory of their passing.
"I was expecting a delivery Saturday morning," Mirabeau announced. "But I wasn't here to get it."
No, she'd been at Marguerite's all weekend, Greg realized, then glanced down at Lissianna with concern as she moaned. She'd started to moan shortly before they'd arrived at Mirabeau's, the sound drawing a concerned mutter from Thomas about nanos.
When Greg had asked him what was going on, Thomas had explained that when the nanos couldn't find enough blood in the veins, they'd begin attacking the organs to get what they needed. Lissianna would be in terrible pain until they could get blood into her. Enough pain that it was drawing moans from the nearly dead.
"You don't have any at all?" Thomas asked.
Mirabeau shook her head, then admitted, "I had two bags left when I got home, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "I got hungry."
"Damn." Thomas raked one hand through his hair, "She needs blood."
"Go get some from the Argeneau blood bank," Mirabeau suggested.
"No, that's no good," Greg said sharply.
"Why not? He has a key."
"Greg thinks Uncle Lucian was behind this," Thomas explained.
Mirabeau's eyes widened incredulously, then she shook her head. "No. I don't believe it. Did you see who did it?"
"No." Greg shook his head. "They'd left by the time I got to the living room."
"Well it couldn't have been one of our people," Mirabeau said with certainty. "It just couldn't. I mean... Why would they? And if so, why not finish the job? If they were one of us, they'd know she could come back from a staking. And why didn't they touch you?" she asked. "You're the one who's considered a threat."
"I don't know," Greg admitted wearily. "But I also don't know of anyone else who would want to hurt her."
She shook her head firmly. "Well, there's just no way Marguerite Argeneau would allow anyone to harm one of her children. She--"
"It doesn't matter, Mirabeau," Thomas interrupted wearily. "I promised Greg I wouldn't go anywhere near them and I won't. We'll have to find the blood elsewhere."
"We're wasting time here," Greg said impatiently. "Lissianna needs blood. Do you have any at your place, Thomas?"
"Yes, I do," he said, obviously surprised that he hadn't thought of it himself. "Not as much as we'll need, but a couple of bags at least and that should be enough to bring her back to consciousness, then we'll find her some donors."
"Donors?" Greg asked.
"The doorman, maybe a couple of neighbors." Thomas shrugged.
"What about an IV?" Greg asked. "I understand that once she's conscious she'll be able to feed off the donors herself, but you'll need an IV for the bagged blood. Can you get one?"
"No, but that's not a problem. Her teeth will suck it up whether she's awake or not," Thomas said as he headed for the door. "It's just easier to feed the donors to her once she's conscious because then she can control their minds. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Thomas?" Mirabeau followed him out of the room. "Do you have a--"
The closing of the door prevented Greg from hearing the rest of what she was asking, not that he was really interested. He was peering at Lissianna as she moaned. It wasn't a normal sound. She was completely motionless, looking almost dead, but emitting a growling moan that was barely audible and came from deep in her throat. The depth of pain she must be in to emit the sounds tore at his heart, and they seemed to be coming closer together. He could only think this meant her pain was increasing in intensity by the minute.
Greg opened her shirt and lifted the towel away from her chest to look at the wound. It was almost closed. While part of him was relieved to see the healing, another part was thinking that it just meant her body was using up blood, and she needed to keep as much as she could until Thomas got back. The more she lost, the more pain she'd be in.
Another moan drew his attention to her face, and Greg hesitated, then decided he had to do something. Leaning
closer, he took her face in both hands and used his
thumbs to pull her mouth open.
"What are you doing?" Mirabeau asked as she reen-tered the room.
"Opening her mouth."
"Why?"
"How do I get her teeth to extend?" Greg asked instead of answering.
"Why do you want her teeth extended?" Mirabeau walked over to stand on the opposite side of the bed, concern on her face as she peered from he to Lissianna.
"Because I can donate some blood, then we could bring up the doorman and whoever else we can find and she can finish off with the bagged blood when Thomas gets back, rather than suffer pain all this time and just start when he gets here."
"You don't want to do that, Greg," Mirabeau said solemnly.
"She's in pain," he hissed.
"Yes, she is, but she isn't conscious."
"But she still feels it. She just can't thrash about and scream because she's so weak, but she does feel it. Doesn't she? That's why she's moaning. Right?" he asked grimly.
"Yes." She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, then hesitated. "It will be painful."
"It wasn't the last time she bit me."
"Yes, but she kissed you last time and got you to relax your guard, then when she bit you, she was able to send the pleasure she was experiencing. Lissi can't do any of that this time, Greg, and it will hurt. Trust me."
"Then I guess it will hurt," he said simply.
Mirabeau peered at him, and he felt a familiar ruffling in his mind. He knew without a doubt that she was trying to dig into his thoughts. Greg did his best to open his mind to her. He needed her help to help Lissianna, and if this was what it took to get it, so be it.
"Very well," she said finally, and gestured him out of the way.
Greg watched anxiously as she leaned forward to lift the blood-soaked towel away from the chest wound, then held it close to Lissianna's face. Her mouth had fallen closed once he'd let go of her face, but when Mirabeau held the towel near her nose, Lissianna jerked and took a quivering indrawn breath, her mouth opening on its own as her canine teeth slid out to biting position.
Greg immediately moved his wrist up to her mouth.
"You need to be sure her teeth hit the vein," Mirabeau instructed, then offered, "Shall I help?"
"Please."
Leaning forward, she took his hand to reposition his wrist under Lissianna's teeth, then hesitated and glanced up. "You're sure about this?"
He nodded without hesitation and the moment he did, Mirabeau snapped his arm upward, slamming his wrist into Lissianna's teeth. Greg sucked in a sharp, shocked breath as pain shot up his arm. This definitely was nothing like the two times she'd bitten his neck. It was nothing like giving blood either. Her teeth were much bigger than the needles medical staff used.
As the first shock of pain receded, Greg became aware of another, deeper pain as her teeth began to draw blood at a rate faster than his veins were use to supplying. It was a drawing sensation, a deep ache and he gritted his teeth against it, but remained still.
"I did warn you," Mirabeau said softly. "Do you want to stop?"
Greg shook his head grimly.
Mirabeau shifted in her seat, then said abruptly, "Tell me what happened."
Greg knew it was an effort to distract him from the pain and was grateful for it. He quickly related the events that had taken place since he'd heard the sound of shattering glass that evening.
"I guess I left a bit of a mess there," he added at the end. "Lissianna's friend will be in a state when she walks into her home and finds the blood and broken glass. She'll probably call the police."
"Don't worry, we'll take care of it," Mirabeau reassured him.
They were both silent after that, for an extremely long time it seemed to Greg, but that might only have been because he was in pain. He was starting to feel woozy when Mirabeau said, "She's coming around, I think--Greg!"
She pulled his wrist from Lissianna's teeth and hurried around the bed to his side, catching him when he would have tumbled off the bed.
"Lissianna already bit you once tonight, didn't she?" Mirabeau asked sharply.
Greg nodded, then wished he hadn't as the action made his head spin worse.
"Dammit, why didn't you tell me?" she snapped. "You never should have-- Here lie down." Mirabeau eased him onto the bed beside Lissianna. "Just lie there. I'll go find you some juice or something. Like I'd have any," she added in a mutter. "I'll have to go see if my neighbor has any. I may as well bring her back for Lissianna while I'm at it. She's coming around and will be in horrible pain and desperate for more blood."
Greg glanced toward Lissianna as Mirabeau left the room, relieved to see that her eyes were open.
"Greg?" His name was a breathless gasp on her lips and he levered himself up on one elbow to peer at her.
"I'm here, Lissianna. How are you?" A stupid question Greg supposed, he could see she was in terrible pain. "Mirabeau is bringing you someone to feed from, love. It won't be long now."
"Mirabeau?" she asked with a frown of confusion.
"Yes. We're at Mirabeau's. Thomas brought us here."
"Oh." She closed her eyes and he saw her teeth grind together. She was in terrible pain. "Who was it?"
Greg was confused until he realized she was asking who had staked her. "Didn't you see them?"
She shook her head jerkily. "It was dark. It was a man.
I thought you had come to talk to me, then I saw the stake."
"Did it look like your uncle?" Greg asked.
She appeared confused. "My uncle? No. He--" She stopped, a moan slipping from her lips and rolled onto her side, half-curling into a ball.
"Mirabeau should be back soon," Greg told her encouragingly, then fell silent, feeling helpless as he watched her struggle with the pain. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her fists and teeth clenched, her breathing short, almost a pant, and this was his fault as far as he could tell. If she hadn't taken him away, tried to save him from whatever it was she feared they'd do to him...
He could tell Lissianna didn't think her uncle was behind the attack, and Mirabeau didn't either, but Lucian Argeneau was on the council, the same council that had staked out and then set one of their kind on fire for turning more than one person. The council had also killed babies before abortions were legal. It wasn't much of a leap for him to imagine the man might have his niece punished for daring to defy him by taking Greg away, and since the staking itself couldn't kill her, all the attack could have been was a punishment of sorts.
Greg had no idea why they hadn't then taken him and Lissianna back to her mother's house to face her uncle, and he could understand why that would make everyone doubt it was Lucian, but he also couldn't imagine anyone else having a reason to stake her. From what he'd heard, she didn't seem to socialize with mortals much. The only thing she did was work at the shelter.
"Greg?"
He leaned closer. "Yes?"
"What did you decide?"
He didn't bother to ask what she meant. Lissianna was asking if he wanted to be turned or not. Greg reached out a hand and softly caressed her arm.
What had he decided? He'd decided she was beautiful, intelligent, and courageous. She was a woman who had risked everything to get him away and keep him safe. Including her family, he knew, for even if they didn't yet side with Lucian and the council, he suspected that when it came right down to it, they would have to as a matter of survival. He was equally sure that to protect them, Lis-sianna would somehow see to it that they did.
So far she had paid for her courageous efforts with blood and pain... and if he refused to turn, he knew she would willingly pay with more.
He had decided that she was a woman worth giving up his family to spend eternity with. All he had to do was convince her she should spend it with him, and he hoped, once he was turned, he might be able to do that.
Greg glanced toward Lissianna as she began to speak again.
"The way things stand, I can't protect you if they're determined to hold a council of three. I proved tonight that 1 can't even protect myself. I didn't even wake up until he was plunging the stake into me," she said with self-disgust.
"Lissianna," he chided.
"No. It's true, but there is one way I can protect you." Lifting her wrist to her mouth, she bit down into her own vein, then closed her eyes and pulled free of her teeth to hold her arm blindly out as blood bubbled to the surface. "The choice is yours."
