Kelly Meding - Wrong Side of Dead

“Agreed,” Marcus said.

One more outcome I was helpless to directly affect. If Thackery had a redundancy in place, he wouldn’t tell. Or he’d tell us just in time for us to watch it kill every vampire who’d ever used Matthew Goodson’s sunscreen.

“Did the Assembly reach a majority regarding Jenner’s death?” I asked.

Elder Dane gave me one of those looks usually reserved for stuff you scrape off the bottom of your shoe. “Assembly decisions are not your concern,” he said.

“The hell they aren’t. I work here, too, and Michael Jenner was a friend of mine. Not to mention the fact that Thackery’s pups are holding on to my goddaughter and her mother, and killing Thackery too soon means they die.”

My spiel seemed to throw Dane for a moment. He frowned at me. “You aren’t arguing to spare Thackery’s life?”

“Hell, no, I’ll dance on the bastard’s grave when he’s finally in it. One man’s death cannot replace the loss of Michael Jenner, to both his Clan and to the Assembly. All I ask for is time. Time to find Aurora and Ava, and to find the three Lupa children before Thackery is killed.”

“And you believe you can do this?”

“I have to try.”

“How much time do you require?”

Please, oh please, let this be a yes. “Well, Thackery’s deadline for reporting back to the Lupa is seven o’clock tonight. If he doesn’t, the last child of a nearly extinct Clan dies.”

Something in Elder Dane’s face softened. I’d hit a nerve. “To ransom a child is the mark of a true monster,” he said. “I can give you until seven-thirty. After that, the Equi Elder will demand his justice.”

“Thank you, Elder Dane.”

“Just find the child and her mother.” He glanced past me. “And contain him. The Assembly will rule on our position on his status at a later time. Too much else is of greater concern to us.”

I didn’t care if we ranked below his laser wart removal—I’d bought us time. Both to find Aurora and Ava, and to help Wyatt get a handle on his new dual nature before it drove him bat shit crazy. Or worse.

Elder Dane left with Astrid close behind. Marcus lingered in the doorway, his gaze on the man behind me. “Can you handle him?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “Where’s Gina?”

“Awaiting word. Shall I send her in?”

“Yes. Get her up to speed, then have her come with Dr. Vansis so he can draw some blood.”

“All right.”

“Three fingers, huh?”

Marcus smiled wickedly. “Two fingers and a thumb. Right hand.”

“Damn.” I glanced at my left hand and the smooth bump where my pinkie used to be. This time I felt a tiny nudge of satisfaction.

“Small comfort to Jenner’s widow and children.”

“True.”

Marcus slipped out.

“Evy?” Wyatt asked.

I turned. Squatted in front of him. His mouth was pinched, the tips of his canines peeking out beneath his upper lip. Eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Jenner is dead,” he said in such a way as to be convincing himself.

Uh-oh. “Yes, he is. We killed the werewolf who attacked you, and then we trapped and killed two more. Thackery was angry, so he killed Michael Jenner as payback.”

“You killed two more.”

“Yes.”

“I’m so confused, Evy.” He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, then squeezed the bridge of his nose. “My mind is racing with so many thoughts. Not all of them mine, I don’t think. I’m angry about Jenner, and I’m angry at you for killing the Lupa. I shouldn’t be angry at both. The Lupa are our enemies, but I’m one of them.”

“No, you aren’t one of them,” I said. “You are still a human being in all of the ways that count.”

He bared his teeth. “I want to hurt you for hurting them.”

“But you won’t.” And there was no way in hell I’d tell him that Phin was the one who’d actually killed two of them. I’d rather have Wyatt angry at me than at one of the Lupa’s natural enemies. Truman versus el Chimal was not an epic showdown I had an interest in witnessing.

“All of this anger, Evy, it burns. I want to release it, but I don’t know how, except to fight or hurt, but I don’t want to do that.”

“What about exercise? We can go to the gym or to an empty store so you can run and burn some energy.”

“Maybe. It might help. Oh God, you smell good.”

Any other day, I’d have thought that a compliment. Right now it was just creepy as hell. “Don’t think about what you smell. Tell me what you see.”

“I see you.” His gaze traveled over me, around the room. “White walls. A bed. A monitor. But it’s different. Sharper. It all seems … brighter. Are my eyes different?”

“Your sight’s definitely improved. And your eyes kind of changed color.”

“Silver?”

“Yeah.”

“Will they change back?”

The plaintive sorrow in his voice made me ache for him. “I don’t know. I hope so. The Lupa are bi-shifters. Maybe once you get a handle on the wolf, you can control the change.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced.

A hand knocked softly on the door frame. If Wyatt had been a wolf, his ears would have perked and swiveled toward the sound. Instead, he sat up a little straighter, attention fixed on the door where Kismet and Dr. Vansis stood. Kismet’s face was blank, collected and calm, even though her left hand shook slightly. “May we come in?” she asked.

I looked at Wyatt, who seemed to defer the decision to me. “Yes,” I said. “Slowly, please.”

She took a few steps in and stopped. I really didn’t blame her.

Vansis put a small tray down on the foot of the bed. “Mr. Truman, may I draw some blood from your arm? I’d like to run a few tests.”

“You smell strange,” Wyatt said. “I don’t like it.”

On a list of absurd ways to answer a question about drawing blood, that definitely ranked at the top.

“I’m Ursia,” Vansis said, sounding completely unperturbed by the response. “Is that perhaps what you smell?”

“I don’t know. Do Ursia smell like tar?”

Tar? I glanced at Kismet, who was making a valiant effort to maintain her composure.

“It’s possible we smell like tar to a Lupa. To me, you smell earthy, like wet cardboard.”

Wyatt blinked. “Evy stays?”

“Yes, she may stay. It will only take a moment.”

“Okay.”

He held out his right arm while Vansis prepared his needle. I sat down next to Wyatt and held his left hand tightly in mine, ready and able to block him from attacking Vansis if he was startled or accidentally provoked. I didn’t doubt that Vansis could handle himself in a fight, but I didn’t want Wyatt living with the guilt of attacking anyone , much less his doctor.

“Look at me,” I said.

He did, and he didn’t look away. Vansis described what he was doing in detail before doing it. He worked with a light touch, tying the tourniquet, swabbing the interior of Wyatt’s elbow, finding the vein. Wyatt winced only once, when the needle first pierced his skin. Vansis carefully attached the first vacuum tube, and it began to fill with red.

He collected three vials of blood, and with each one Wyatt gripped my hand tighter. Perspiration appeared across his forehead and upper lip. He breathed harder through his mouth. He hadn’t once blinked. His control was slipping.

“Almost done,” I said.

Vansis placed a cotton ball over the site and pulled out the needle. “Please bend your elbow.”

Wyatt did. Once his physical contact with Vansis was over and the doctor had moved away with his samples, Wyatt shuddered. His grip on my hand loosened; my bones ached.

“One more small request,” Vansis said. He held up two cotton swabs. “May I swab your mouth?”