Black Magic Rose (6 page)

She held the left shoulder of his shirt in one hand and the waist portion of the right side in her other. The fabric covering his right shoulder remained connected along the sleeves, which were protected by his leather coat. Only the back of his shirt remained tucked into his jeans.
 

Sofia looked down at the cotton shirt in her trembling hands, swallowed, and sighed.
 

“Well,” was all she said. She couldn’t bear the idea of looking at him or anyone else for that matter. Her performance was completely out of the realm of professionalism.
 

She nodded at her hand.
 

“I apologize for ruining your, uh, shirt,” she began, not looking up at Dragomir. “However, I was trying to…well, stop you. And you weren’t responding. It, um, was not my intention to…do this…”
 

She motioned to the shirt in her hand. “I’m happy to replace the shirt…for you.” She tucked the fabric up over his shoulder and under the coat without allowing her gaze to wander above his neck. Then she attempted to button a couple buttons but found them missing.
 

“I would like to give Jefferson an opportunity to explain himself,” she said, turning to the vampire on the floor as she straightened her own clothes.
 

Jefferson’s eyes shifted from her to Dragomir. His neck held the imprint of Dragomir’s fingers, and giant bruises had formed on his skin. It was obvious he also had several broken bones. His head flopped to the side.
 

“Oh, my God!” She’d never seen anything like it. He should have been dead, but he wasn’t. He blinked at her.
 

“Dr. MacDuff, do something. Help him.” She knelt to touch his neck.
 

Jefferson reached for Sofia. His tongue darted out, barely far enough to lick his lips. His eyes blazed and Sofia felt that strange pressure descend around her again. He curled back his lips as though jutting his fangs at her.
 

A growl sounded behind Sofia, and before she registered what she’d heard, Dragomir was crouched beside her, his hand pinning Jefferson to the floor by his neck.
 

“Stop that!” Sofia swatted at Dragomir. “There is no need…”

Dr. MacDuff pulled Sofia to her feet. “There is a need to protect you. Jefferson would hurt you in his current state. Dragomir, take him to the cells. Noelle will see to his recovery.”

Dragomir dragged Jefferson out of the room before Sofia could intervene.
 

“He’s not going to kill him, is he? Jefferson should be given an opportunity to explain himself before he’s…punished.” Sofia pointed after them. “And death is an awfully harsh punishment for a workplace incident,” she yelled toward the door.

“He will be held in a cell where Noelle will help him recover. It will take a couple nights, but then you will be able to speak with him. With a guard, of course,” Dr. MacDuff said.
 

“I don’t agree with the…”

“We will not debate this point,” Dr. MacDuff said.

She knew better than to argue. The last argument landed her with Dragomir. She might as well not push her luck.
 

“What has brought you to the Lower Level after sunset?” he asked. “I will tell you I am pleased to see you here, notwithstanding this incident. Maybe you’re coming around.”

Sofia shook her head. “I have work to do. It seems that one of the new werewolves was assaulted by Rick last night during a training exercise, and I’ve come to investigate the situation.”
 

“Is that so,” Fergus said. “What happened?” He sat at the desk Jefferson had vacated and tapped at the keyboard of the computer in front of him.
 

Meg and Osgar had both seated themselves at other computers and were busy at work.
 

“It’s been reported that Rick pushed Louis off the roof, causing him to break both his ankles. I plan to speak with Louis and then Rick,” Sofia answered, retrieving her notepad and pen from a nearby table.
 

“Hmm. That’s interesting. Osgar, how’s Louis?” Fergus asked.
 

“Fine. Ankles are back at one hundred percent. He’s waiting to speak with Sofia so he can get back to training.” Osgar stood up and smiled. “You about ready?”

“Before you go, Sofia…” Fergus turned from the computer. “Has anyone explained the training to you and the wolf’s ability to heal?” Fergus sat back in his chair and faced Sofia. His red hair was cut short. A beard covered his face with sideburns that merged into his hair. Brown irises sparkled in his deep-set eyes.

“No. But I’m not sure that shoving someone…”

“Pushing. Pushed was the word Charlie used,” Osgar corrected.
 

“Yes, pushed.” Sofia tucked her notepad under her arm. The difference between shove and push was neither here nor there in this situation, and she wasn’t interested in arguing the point. “I don’t see how pushing someone off a roof can be considered acceptable behavior.”

“Part of the training to ensure that wolves can make high jumps and land without hurting themselves is forcing a jump,” Fergus said.
 

“They’re all tested on a jump. Some of them are tested multiple times,” Meg said. “The born wolves naturally jump without needing the help. Changed wolves are usually hesitant and need the encouragement.”

“Are you saying that pushing someone off a roof is encouraging? It’s abusive and mean and completely unacceptable,” Sofia said.
 

“He’s fine. You’ll see when you meet with him. He’s ready to try again,” Osgar said.
 

“Fine? How can he be fine? He broke both his ankles. It’s outrageous that you’d expect him to jump again tonight,” she said. “And even more outrageous that you’re forcing someone who is naturally inhibited to perform a task.”

“He’s been practicing the jump for a week,” Osgar said. “It’s not like he didn’t know what was coming.”

“A week? You’ve been shoving him off the roof for a week?”

“Pushing, and not me. Rick. But yes, a week. He’s afraid of heights or something so he’s just not getting it.” Osgar turned to Fergus. “I’m a little concerned. We may need to make an adjustment. It’s been the same outcome every night with no improvement. He may not have the wherewithal to accomplish this.”

Fergus nodded. “You’re thinking quarantine at base camp?”

“Yeah. That might be…”

“What?” Sofia’s voice echoed in the room. “You’ve been pushing him off the roof every night for a week, causing him to break both ankles every night, and you’re thinking he’s not smart enough to figure out how not to break his ankles? Are you crazy? What is wrong with you?”

“You’re overreacting. He’s a werewolf,” Osgar said, eyes wide and shaking his head. “Preternatural, remember? We heal with the shift. Don’t you know anything?”

“Yes, obviously I understand how you physically heal. However, don’t you think torturing someone is a bit cruel?”

“Torturing him? He’ll never learn to fight, if he can’t jump. And he has to learn to fight,” Osgar said.

“Why does he have to fight? You’re going to force him to do something he’s not capable of or doesn’t want to do. Why?”

“It’s fight or die. I guess you’re right. He can choose.” Osgar walked toward the door. “Come on. We can go ask him now. It would be a heck of a lot easier if he’d just choose to die.”
 

Chapter Five

“Wow. You really did a number on this guy.” Noelle cut Jefferson’s shirt off to get a better look at his injuries. “Several crushed vertebrae in his neck.” She probed his shoulders. “Two broken clavicles.” She ran her hand along his chest and down his abdomen. “Two, three broken ribs.” She drew a sheet up over his chest.
 

Jefferson writhed beneath the silver straps wrapped around his wrists and draped across his abdomen. “Bet you’re wishing you weren’t a vampire now. You can’t possibly feel very good. She inserted a needle into Jefferson’s arm, taping it into place.
 

He grimaced and tried to jerk his hands free.
 

“Sorry. No other way to get the blood in. You’re obviously not swallowing anything tonight.” Noelle hung a bag of O positive.

Dragomir draped yet another length of silver across Jefferson’s abdomen, then made sure his wrists were secured.
 

Jefferson hissed and whimpered.
 

“Seriously, Dragomir, I think this is a bit of overkill.” Noelle used a towel to remove the second, third, and fourth straps of silver from atop the sheet covering Jefferson’s skin. “He’s not going anywhere. He’s locked down here with me. He can’t even hold his own head up, and he’s already covered with one layer of restraint.” She tossed the silver onto a nearby table. “The prisoner is secure.” She saluted.
 

Dragomir grumbled and glared at Jefferson as he removed the protective gloves and replaced them on the hook above the box of silver restraints.
 

“You should be fine in a couple nights,” Noelle told Jefferson. “Just don’t piss off Attila, here.” She thumbed toward Dragomir.
 

“You jest, but he tried to kill Sofia Engle.” Dragomir clenched his jaw. Was he slipping? How was this new vampire able to gain access to Sofia? He should have known her whereabouts from the moment he rose, not let even a single minute pass where he was not monitoring her safety.
 

But amazingly he had not sensed her in the Lower Level. He snarled at his own failing. His typical vampire ability to recognize an individual’s aura seemed to elude him where Sofia was concerned.
 

He’d noticed this challenge the very first night he’d taken the assignment. She managed to exit the building without his knowledge. If not for old Jamieson, he never would have caught up to her before she left the parking lot.
 

Noelle’s surgical scissors clanged against a metal basin as she slammed her instruments onto the tray. “Oh.” Her blue eyes widened for a second, but in a flash, the look of surprise on her face vanished. “Well, we’ll just deal with him right now.”

“That is not an option. He’s to recover.” Dragomir clasped Noelle’s wrist as she raised a scalpel above Jefferson. He pried the knife from her hand and tossed it into the metal basin.
   

Dragomir thought it was a fluke, hunger, distraction due to his own interest in the local attacks. But by night two, when he stood in the doorway above, watching Sofia as she tried to convince Jankin she did not need him, he knew a strategic change for managing her was in order.
From across the lobby he smelled her fruity-florally scent as though he’d buried his face into her chest, yet try hard as he did, he was completely incapable of sensing even one little fizzle of her energy.
 

“I don’t believe this. Are we really following new rules set forth by a human?” Noelle stared from Jefferson to Dragomir. “In all the years I’ve known that woman…since she was a baby…that’s how long, I never thought she’d have this much influence.”

Lost in his concerns about Sofia’s safety, Dragomir barely focused on the tirade Noelle unleashed as she paced back and forth.
 

He wasn’t entirely certain if Sofia was a fluke or if this loss of vampiric sense, a skill he’d honed for more than eight hundred years, was permanent. Was this some sort of vampire dementia? Did this happen to every vampire at his age?
 

If he was not able to see, hear, touch, or smell Sofia, he could not be certain she was near.
He could recognize everyone else from afar just by the fact that they existed. Everyone gave off a certain energy, an aura specific to each individual human, vampire, werewolf and the like. But with Sofia there was a void. As if she didn’t exist until she appeared in front of him.
 

Stubbornly and unwilling to accept defeat, he opened his senses intending to find her.
 

He knew every presence on the Lower Level—Meg, Fergus, and Jankin remained in the security room with the two other wolves assigned a security detail. In the conference room members of The Board gathered. Six of them were already present. In another conference room he located Rick. Sofia was nowhere to be found.
 

Clearly, there was something odd with the Employee Relations Manager. Could the legend be true? Could Jankin’s child have been conceived after he was made vampire? Was that the reason for Sofia’s lack of energy? Was she some sort of mixed breed? A vampire-human?
 

Noelle faced Dragomir wearing the most perplexed looked he’d ever seen. “Why wasn’t he dealt with? Why are we recovering him?”
 

Those were very good questions. Good enough to force Dragomir to give up his futile attempt to find Sofia. And though Dragomir knew the answers, he couldn’t for the life of him understand them. Jefferson had attacked Sofia or at the very least made a clear threat of attack. His thoughts were of seducing her and drinking from her until there was not a drop of blood left in her body.
 

Dragomir ran his hand through his hair, holding it back from his face. He sighed, unable to comprehend Sofia’s thinking. “The woman wants him to be given the chance to explain his actions before he is punished.”