Richart turned in a complete circle. “Thirty-four by my count.”
His brother turned disbelieving eyes on Marcus. “And you took them all out by yourself?”
Marcus shook his head and gave Ami’s shin a squeeze. “We took them all out.”
Both men shifted so they could better see the injured figure trying to make herself invisible behind him. In unison, their eyebrows rose.
“Two defeated thirty-four,” Richart said with a shake of his head. “Incredible.”
Marcus and Ami’s success was unprecedented.
“I didn’t know Seth had called in another immortal,” Étienne commented, studying Ami. “Pleasure to meet you. I am Étienne d’Alençon, and this is my brother Richart.”
Marcus did not like the appreciation in the younger immortal’s gaze. “Ami isn’t an immortal. She’s my Second.”
Their jaws dropped.
“She’s human?” Richart asked incredulously.
Done with the subject, Marcus turned back to Ami, who shrugged as if to say, Yeah, so?
Frowning, he checked her wounds and applied more pressure. “Richart, would you take us to David so he can see to her wounds?”
“David is spelling Asajyfo in Sudan. You know how vampires love to take advantage of war and violence. Genocide lures them like candy does children. Asajyfo has worked nonstop for too long, keeping their numbers in check, and very much needed a break.”
“What about Seth?”
“Seth isn’t answering his phone.”
Which left the only other healer Marcus knew personally. “Fine. Take us to Roland.”
“What?” Ami blurted out, apprehension sweeping her blood-streaked features, the same instant Richart said, “Hell no.”
Marcus glared daggers at the immortal. “Do it.”
Richart shook his head as he and his brother approached. “I can’t. I’ve never been to his home before.”
Étienne nodded. “And Roland would slay him. Not just for showing up unannounced, but for bringing a total stranger to his home and, at least in his view, endangering Sarah.”
Ready to explode in fury—Damn it, Ami needed help!—Marcus felt a touch on his arm.
“It’s okay, Marcus,” Ami said. “My wounds are minor—”
“The hell they are!”
“—and I’ll be fine after a good night’s rest.”
Which sent guilt crashing through him. She hadn’t had a good night’s rest—or any rest—since she had moved in with him because she didn’t feel safe with him.
How the hell had she fought as fiercely as she had when she was so bloody exhausted?
Marcus stepped closer to the side of the car, intending to lift her into his arms. “Fine. Then take us to the network. I’m sure one of the doctors in their labs can patch her up.”
Labs.
It was a simple word. One syllable. Four letters.
Yet it struck thrice as much fear in Ami’s heart as the horde of vampires she had just combatted.
When Marcus leaned down and slid his arms around her to pick her up, she planted a hand in the center of his chest to hold him at bay. “No.”
He hesitated. “What?”
“You’re not taking me to the network.”
“Ami, you’re injured. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. She knew the network was trustworthy. But scientists were scientists. And doctors were doctors. All possessed the same inherent curiosity, the same desire to expand their knowledge.
A shudder shook her.
Were the network doctors and scientists not constantly trying to pressure Roland into bringing Sarah in to be studied, all because she was a mild anomaly? The first gifted one who had ever voluntarily asked to be transformed, she was far more powerful than a newly turned immortal should have been. Faster and stronger than immortals transformed centuries before her.
If the network doctors couldn’t wait to get their hands on Sarah to study her, what would they do to Ami?
Labs.
She hated labs.
“Ami …”
Nightmarish memories assailed her.
Scooting down the hood of the car, she winced at the pull of the many cuts that pained her. The sharp stings of her hip and thigh and her throbbing headache worsened with every second. Her legs seemed disinclined to support her when she lowered her feet to the ground and stood.
Marcus stepped around to stand in front of her, arms slightly extended as though to catch her if she fell.
“I’m going home,” she announced firmly.
Marcus looked to the other immortals. “Any ideas?”
Étienne pursed his lips. “You could give her some of your blood.”
Richart nodded. “One transfusion won’t transform her.”
Before Ami could refuse (even Seth didn’t know what exposure to the virus would do to her), Marcus shook his head. “The vampires are congregating again, working together as they did under Bastien’s rule. Tonight confirms that their numbers are growing exponentially. If I give Ami my blood, it will make her more susceptible to the virus if one of the vampires should sink his teeth into her later.”
A human or gifted one could be transformed in two ways. A vampire (or immortal) could drain the human almost to the point of death, then infuse him or her with the vamp’s blood, infecting the human on a massive level. Or the human could be exposed to the virus in small amounts over and over again through repeated feedings until the virus weakened the human’s immune system enough to conquer it entirely and usurp its place.
“I don’t need your blood,” Ami announced, tired of their discussing what to do with her as if she couldn’t decide for herself. “So, while you three stand here chatting, I’m going to go home, take a shower, apply a few bandages, and go to bed.”
She turned toward the driver’s side of the car, staggered forward a step, and bumped into Marcus’s chest. Damn their speed. Sputtering, she wiped at the blood his saturated shirt had just deposited on her face. “I’m going home, Marcus.”
He smiled. “I know. I was just going to suggest I drive.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but held her tongue when he placed a gentle finger against her lips.
“I have no qualms about admitting you’re a better driver than I am. But the vampires knocked out a headlight, and I see better in low light than you do.”
He thought she was a better driver than he was and wasn’t too chauvinistic or arrogant to admit it? How cool was that?
And perhaps her focusing on his first comment instead of the second indicated that she was no more in peak condition mentally than she was physically.
“Deal.”
Taking her elbow, he escorted her around to the passenger’s side as if he had just picked her up to take her out on a date. This side of the car was badly dented. But he managed to pry the door open and seat her inside. He even buckled her seat belt for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, wondering how her heart could react so strongly to his nearness when she was riddled with so much pain.
And there was pain. Immense amounts of it. She hurt everywhere, had lost a lot of blood, was cold, and possibly close to going into shock. Yet she had to pretend she was fine so Marcus wouldn’t want to see to her wounds himself, something that would raise too many questions.
Her thoughts scattered when the driver’s side door opened and Marcus slid behind the wheel.
She found a smile when his knees nearly touched his chest.
Grimacing comically, he readjusted the seat, scooting it all the way back to accommodate his much longer legs. “Better.” When he closed the door …
The space seemed so much smaller with him in it.
Starting the engine, he offered her another smile. “I would’ve just had Richart teleport us home, but he’s never been there either.”
“That’s okay. I’d rather ride.”
He nodded. “Most of us would.”
Teleporting, while awesome, could be a dizzying and disquieting experience.
“Don’t worry,” he went on. “We’ll be home in a trice.”
It wasn’t until Marcus said those words that Ami realized she truly was beginning to think of his house as home.
Dr. Montrose Keegan studied the vampire who stood before him. “Anything?”
The vampire shrugged. “Not really.”
Keegan glowered first at the papers clutched in his hands, then at the machines, beakers, test tubes, burners, etcetera that filled his basement lab. “Damn it!” He looked to his assistant. “What are we missing?”
John frowned at the vampire and shook his head. “I don’t know. I really thought we had it this time.”
John Florek had been a graduate student of Keegan’s before Keegan had been forced to quit and go into hiding so the damned Immortal Guardians and their network wouldn’t hunt him down. The usual rage engulfed him when he thought of having had to tender his resignation just one year short of obtaining tenure. Six years of grueling hours and ass-kissing down the drain. Even worse, the Immortal Guardians and that backstabbing bastard Bastien had killed Casey, the last member of Keegan’s family.
Scott, the vampire in front of him, reminded Montrose of Casey. The same youth. The same foolish innocence.
“Maybe it just needs to be stronger,” Scott suggested hopefully. “I do have a little bit of a buzz.” He was a nice guy. Eager to please and only turned three months earlier.
Montrose refused to work with any volunteers who had been vampires for more than six months. They were too unpredictable. Too unstable. Too scary, though he wouldn’t admit that to Dennis. The virus damaged the brain faster in some than in others, effectively severing their impulse control. With the exception of Dennis, Montrose avoided contact with all but the most recently turned vampires.
“Maybe,” he said, and motioned to one of the stools the lab boasted. “Go ahead and have a seat, Scott. Let John and I do some quick computations and—”
