“All right, then.” Sharah slowly inched the needle into the angry flesh surrounding the wound, and the three of us watched as my blood filtered into Morio’s system.
CHAPTER 19
The room seemed to darken, and there was a long hush as we watched the wound. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there was a sudden hiss and the gash began to foam, a steady stream of oily white liquid pouring out mingled with the crimson of Morio’s blood. It drained steadily into the basin, the stench rising.
Morio began to thrash, pouring sweat. He groaned, and the restraints threatened to break as he began to transform into his full demon self.
“Stop this. We’re trying to save your fucking life, babe.”
Camille leaned over him, avoiding the long claws that grabbed for her. She was holding it together in a scary way. The last time I’d seen this look on her face was when I burst through the door at home, hell-bent on killing and turning my entire family. Her look of desperation had been replaced with one of sheer will, the will of the damned.
With a loud yip that turned into a scream, Morio began shifting so rapidly it was hard to keep track, first to his human self, then his fox self, then demon, then human . . . all so fast we could barely keep up with him. The strains of so many rapid transformations were taxing him. Sweat soaked the bed, even as the fluids from his side poured in a deluge, waterfalling out of the gash.
A look of horror on her face, Sharah called for security, but they couldn’t get near the flailing youkai. But Camille climbed up on the bed, straddling him, holding him down as best she could while they applied heavier restraints. Sharah gave him a shot of something and within seconds, he stopped fighting.
“What’s happening to him?” Camille looked up, her expression bleak.
“I don’t know . . . but look!” Sharah pointed to the wound. With a hiss, the pus thinned and then became just a trickle of blood flowing, drop by drop, into the basin. Within another minute, the stream stopped.
Sharah moved the container of blood and infection and washed her hands. I helped Camille down off the bed as Sharah examined Morio’s side.
“He’s beginning to heal.” The flesh was mending before our eyes. Muscle and sinew bound together, weaving new threads, coiling and tightening into scar tissue. Within twenty minutes, the wound was still angry and swollen, but the infection looked to be gone.
“I think he’s going to be down for some time, but he should make it,” Sharah said, straightening her shoulders. She probed the gash. “The infection is gone, and now it’s just going to be a matter of how quickly he can recover from the life energy loss. That’s something we can’t do anything about. It will take time, but now he
has
that time.”
Camille dropped to the floor, weeping softly. “Thank you. Thank you for helping him.” She gazed up at both Sharah and me. “Without both of you, he’d be dead.”
“Hey, my pleasure.” Sharah glanced at me over her head. “But we still don’t know just what effect the vampire blood will have in his system. You’ll need to watch him closely.”
She nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I will.”
As I slowly withdrew from the room, followed by Sharah, I felt a weird pull, like I was stretching a rope between me and . . . oh crap.
Morio.
A connection had been formed. What the hell did that mean?
“You get back in there and make sure he’s still alive.” I whirled on Sharah. “Something’s going on. I feel a bond that’s been established between the two of us. He’s got my blood in him—he’s demon. I’m not sure what that’s going to do to us.”
Sharah stared at me. “What? What do you mean?”
“I mean, some link was created. When I stepped out of the room, I felt the connection stretch. That’s not a good thing.”
She blinked, and then without another word, she headed back into the room and leaned over him. Lifting his arm, she felt for a pulse, then listened with her stethoscope, then frowned. Camille gave her a frightened look, but Sharah reassured her before rejoining me in the hall.
“He’s alive. I don’t know what it is. I told you, I wasn’t sure just what kind of effect this was going to have on him. Apparently, it triggered a psychic connection between the two of you. But he’s alive. Without your blood, he wouldn’t be for much longer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get in an hour or two of sleep. I’ve been throwing myself into keeping him alive nonstop since you brought him in.”
With a weary sigh, she waved lightly and headed off down the hall. I watched her go, then slowly returned to Morio’s room. Camille gave me a curious look, but I wasn’t sure just what to say. I didn’t know what was going on myself.
As I approached the bed, there it was again—a feeling of familiarity, of inner knowing. Morio . . . his long dark hair was damp from his fever, but the nurses were motioning for us to move back so they could change his sheets.
I slipped over to Camille’s side. “I think some side effect happened when she gave him my blood.”
“What?”
“I think . . . it feels like there’s some connection that’s established itself between Morio and me. I don’t know what it is, if it will last, or anything about it, though.” I decided I’d better warn her so she wouldn’t be taken by surprise.
She nodded, pensive. “I suppose we won’t know how it’s going to play out until he regains consciousness, and then you two have to sort it out.”
Not sure how she felt, I put a light hand on her arm. “I didn’t mean for it to happen—”
Camille let out a small laugh. “Menolly, you saved his life. That’s worth any price. Don’t apologize. I hope that whatever it is, it’s temporary and easy to live with. But we’ll find out, I guess.”
I paused, then drew her outside the room. “Listen . . . I know about Vanzir. And I won’t say anything until you feel you need to. But you can come to me if things get out of hand. Because I guarantee you, Smoky’s going to figure it out. That husband of yours is brilliant, but the temper . . .”
Her mouth formed into an O and she backed up. “I didn’t want anybody to know.” She paused, looking haunted. “It was bad, Menolly. When you took Morio topside, the ghost attacked us again. Vanzir tried to drain it by feeding on it, and I shot an energy burst. The ghost backed off, but the residue of my magic triggered Vanzir. He . . . he yelled at me to run and I tried to climb up but couldn’t find the gloves. My hands—the iron rungs . . .”
Shit. I could see it all too easily. In the darkness, with the ghosts and the worry, no gloves to protect her hands . . . Camille was caught between Vanzir’s hunger and the ghost’s anger. “What happened?” I knew Vanzir couldn’t lie to me but wanted to verify what I’d heard.
“Vanzir was caught in a feeding frenzy. I was hunting for the gloves but then felt something enter my mind. Vanzir started to drink from me—it was like having tentacles hooked into my thoughts, like being drained off a spark at a time. I remembered what he’d said about the magic being like an aphrodisiac and tried to snap him out of it.”
“Did he stop?”
“He tried. He looked so tortured, begging me to run. But there was no place for me to go. I’d have to either run back into the tunnels or burn myself on the iron rungs. So I pulled up my skirts and grabbed his hands . . . pressed them to my waist. If I could get him out of my head, I could handle anything else. I mean . . . it’s
just
sex. But feeding on my magic—that was so horrible.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and hung her head.
“So . . . he realized what you were offering . . .”
“Yes. Vanzir pushed me against the wall and . . . the minute he touched my body, he withdrew from my mind. It was far easier to have sex with him than let him feed off me.”
I nodded, understanding how she could think so. For Camille, sex was sex—but her magic, her spirit was something she shared with very few.
“But while we were . . . the Moon Mother came through. Did he tell you . . . ?”
“Yes. About his powers to feed vanishing?”
“That wasn’t me who did it. No, the Moon Mother punished him for attacking me.”
“What happened afterward?”
“We just stared at each other. I could have killed him, right there, but I understood him too well to do it. I know what I’m like when I’m caught up in the Hunt. Or you—with your bloodlust, and Delilah when she’s under the full moon. This was no different. He was trying to save my life by attacking the ghost, and I was trying to save his.”
“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”
“Yeah. What’s he going to do now that he doesn’t have his power? He may have said he didn’t like being a dream-chaser demon, but I think he was lying. And now . . . now he’s bare and open like a raw wound. Circumstances fucked us both over.”
I nodded. “That’s pretty much what he said. I ordered him to tell me, by the way. It wasn’t his fault he spilled the beans. I just wanted to . . .”
“To protect me? I can’t say that it didn’t affect me, but damn it, we were backed into a corner. I’m just afraid that Smoky’s not going to understand. And I have to tell him, and Trillian and Morio, because somebody . . . sometime is going to sense that I’ve been with an outsider. And I’m terrified they’ll kill Vanzir.”
She shuddered, and a tear streaked down her face. “Things are so bad. This just is . . . so bad . . .”
“I’ll help keep the peace. Maybe you should tell Smoky away from the house, and we’ll send Vanzir away for a few days to get him out of the way. Trillian might be able to calm the dragon down, too.” I hesitated, then whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it had to be that way.”
She flashed me a wan smile. “You know, the irony is—if I weren’t happily married, I’d probably jump at the chance to sleep with Vanzir. He’s hot. I can’t help but admit: I liked it. On one level, I wanted him. But I never would have acted on it, because I’m in love with Morio, with Trillian and Smoky.”
Nodding, I led her back to Morio’s room. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay. I know you would have done anything else if you could have. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I think you’ve got remarkable empathy and restraint in not reaching out and killing Vanzir.”
“I think the Moon Mother already did worse. Could you get me some water? My eyes are so dry they hurt, I’ve been crying so hard.”
As I moved toward a row of vending machines, she entered the room and took her place by Morio’s side again. Once more, I felt the pull to be there, near him. I quickly plugged four quarters into the soda machine and punched the water selection. Pulling the bottle out of the slot, I headed back to find that during our absence, Morio had woken up.
Camille was smiling, and I’d never seen such a look on anyone’s face—absolute joy and relief. She laughed at something he whispered and leaned down to give him a long, leisurely kiss. He pulled her into his arms, and with shock, I saw him reach under her skirts, and she was letting him.
“Whoa, you two. I’m pretty sure Sharah would nix any horseplay. Take it easy, dude, you’re still recovering—” But then, I stopped. The wound on his side was almost knit through and the gash was a thin red line that oozed clear liquid, free of toxin and pus.
“Wow. You’ve come a long way in fifteen minutes.”
Morio pushed himself to a sitting position—slowly, to be sure, but it was something I hadn’t expected to see for some time.
“I’m not ready to get out of bed yet, and you’re right. Play of any kind would be a bit much for me right now.” He glanced over at me and stopped, his gaze catching my own. “Menolly . . .”
As his voice drifted off, he opened his arms and I walked into his embrace without thinking. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean down to kiss him, but, startled, I caught myself before our lips met and pulled away. Camille watched us, eyebrows arched, but she didn’t look mad, just confused.
“What the fuck?” Morio let go of me abruptly and pulled back, but his hands lingered along my waist.
“This must be the link,” Camille said. “Menolly—do you think the two of you imprinted?”
Morio looked from her to me, then her again. “Link? Imprint? What’s going on?” He looked confused. “What the fuck just happened, babe?”