Enemy Within (Vampire Born Trilogy, #2) (22 page)

I call and call until two nurses rush in with a cart carrying tubing, packets of unfamiliar medical supplies, and bags of blood.

The nurse who attended to Kaitlynn earlier, Cindy, takes Kaitlynn’s blood pressure and writes in her chart, while the other nurse sets up a blood bag on the hanging rack.

When Cindy is done, she sticks a needle in Kaitlynn’s arm and connects it to the tubing stemming from the blood bag.

“How long is that gonna take?” I ask her.

“About an hour,” Cindy says. She and the other nurse watch Kaitlynn as the blood flows from the bag into Kaitlynn’s system.

Jaren sits on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his head resting in his hands.

A part of me wants to comfort him, but I’m too anxious about Kaitlynn to move from her side. I stare at the blood in the tube connected to her arm for what must be half an hour. Mirko still hasn’t come back yet.

I pull out my phone and call my father again.

Straight to voicemail.

I leave him another message, desperation clear in my voice. “Please. Don’t let my friend die.” I hang up and call Mirko. “He’s not answering.”

“He must still be in the Commissioners’ meeting.”

“Do you really think he’s behind the attacks?” I ask.

“I’m not sure what to think at this point. Something is going on, and until I figure it out, I can’t fully trust him. But I called Garwin, and he’s going to see what he can do about finding us a Pijawika.”

“Thank you,” I say, grateful he always thinks of plans to back up his plans. “Where are you?”

“I’m working on getting the donor for Kaitlynn.”

“In case Garwin doesn’t find anyone?”

“No. I’ll explain it to you when I get back.”

“Well, they say they’re almost done with the transfusion, so hurry up.”

“All right. I’ll meet you in the morgue.”

“The morgue?” I choke.

“For the change. It will give us more privacy.”

I exhale on a shaky, relieved breath, “Oh, ’kay.”

“That ought to do it,” Cindy says and pulls the needle out of Kaitlynn’s arm. “Let’s get her downstairs.” She says it like she’s on autopilot.

Mirko must have run into the two nurses and used Sanjam on them.

The other nurse unlocks the wheel release on Kaitlynn’s bed.

Cindy disconnects Kaitlynn from some of the machines and turns the bed so it faces the door. She transfers the fluid bags onto an IV pole attached to Kaitlynn’s bed and they wheel the bed out, Jaren and I following behind.

Jaren grabs my hand.

He lost his best friend today, and I have no idea if we can save mine.

I squeeze his hand tight. Whatever we face, whatever Kaitlynn goes through beyond her last words of “Save me,” we won’t be alone.

I can’t say the same for what David went through. A lump forms in my throat and I push the image of his body and torn flesh from my mind.

Cindy wheels Kaitlynn past the elevators. “Aren’t we taking her down?” I ask, worried the Sanjam might be wearing off.

“Yeah,” she says. “We have a dedicated elevator for the morgue.”

I don’t like that word. The morgue means death, and I can’t think about that and Kaitlynn in the same thought. It’s too heavy, too uncomfortable, too painful.

When we reach the end of the hall, Cindy pulls keys out of her pocket and places one into the wall, causing the elevator door to open. They push Kaitlynn inside and Jaren and I step in after.

The halogen lights flicker.

I rest my back against the cold, metal wall and close my eyes.

Dead people ride in this elevator all the time. Are their ghosts still lingering? One could be standing right next me and I’d never know it.

I shiver.

The elevator lurches and then slowly drops.

I’ve never liked elevators. Their jerky, unnatural movement always makes my stomach queasy, and the one we’re in is the worst. Beyond the fact that it transports the dead, it’s old and makes lots of creaking sounds.

I try not to imagine the elevator cords unraveling until they snap and we plunge to our painful deaths, but it’s too late.

The image is already there.

I take a few breaths, trying to slow my pulse and clear my ears of the elevator’s rickety whines.

Mirko’s going to save Kaitlynn.

I repeat the mantra over and over again until the elevator stops and Cindy moves to open the door.

I smell it before the doors unseal.

Not death. At least not in the way I would assume death smells. And it doesn’t remind me of bleach or any other chemical I can identify, either.

It’s a pungent, musky aroma I’ll never associate with anything else but a morgue.

I hope to never have to smell it again.

Cindy and the nurse push Kaitlynn out, Jaren and I trailing behind. They wheel her near a flat steel table and lock her wheels.

The placement feels wrong, like they’re going to lift her from her bed and place her on top of the steel slab to cut her open.

I glance around, but there doesn’t appear to be a better spot to put her.

The far wall has a huge hopper sink, and I don’t want to think about what gets washed down that drain.

I jerk my head back to focus on Kaitlynn because everything I see freaks me out and has me wondering how many bodies have been cut up in here.

The elevator door finally opens again.

Mirko pushes an older man in a bed similar to Kaitlynn’s and parks it next to her. “I don’t think you should be in here for this.” Mirko eyes Jaren.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jaren says. “They’re all I have left.” He squares his shoulders.

Mirko nods.

We switch our focus to the guy Mirko has wheeled in. Is this who has to die so Kaitlynn can turn?

“Who’s this?” I ask Mirko.

“This is Mr. Richter.” Mirko pats the man on the shoulder and smiles.

Mirko wheeled in a man on his deathbed. He’s scrawny and his hair is patchy and scant on his head. Looks as though he’s been through intense radiation. The man won’t be dying so Kaitlynn can live.

Mr. Richter is already dying.

“Did you talk to your father?” Mirko asks.

I grimace. “No. Did Garwin find anyone?”

He frowns. “No, no one.”

“Well, what do you need to do with the blood?” Jaren asks. “Couldn’t you use Brooke’s?”

“Hmm,” Mirko says and appraises me. “I’m not sure. I’ve never heard of a melez being used in the process.”

“Probably because we don’t last long enough to get the chance,” I add.

Jaren continues. “Well, she should have enough Pijawikan in her blood if she has the powers, right?”

“What would I have to do?” I ask.

Mirko peers at me for a beat. “Mr. Richter will need to drink from you. The blood will eat up his blood, he’ll die, and then the Pijawikan blood will alter in his dead body from the lack of oxygen. When it gets to the proper composition, Kaitlynn will have to drink Mr. Richter’s blood, and then the change can take place.”

Jaren gags slightly, and I hold back the urge.

I pull Mirko away from Mr. Richter. “Kaitlynn has to drink a dead man’s blood?” Before I drank blood, the idea of having to drink from the living disgusted me. What he’s described is repulsive.

“Yes, it won’t work if he’s still alive when she drinks it.”

“You’re sure? I’m not positive I can get her to agree to that.”

“What I’m not sure of is if she will survive the change. She may not be strong enough, but the only way for the change to take place is for the Pijawikan blood to move through his stomach via osmosis into the rest of his system, and then starve from the lack of oxygen and feed off his blood as the oxygen continues to dissipate. Once his blood gets to the proper point of putrefaction, Kaitlynn will drink it.”

I don’t understand what most of what he said means, but it doesn’t decrease the “eww” factor in the least. In fact, it increases it. “And Mr. Richter’s okay with this?”

“I can smell the death coating his skin. He knows he’s close to dying. I transferred money into his estate for his family. They’re not close, but he was motivated by being able to leave them something. That legacy is all he has left.”

Two seconds ago I was appalled and disgusted by the grotesque manner in which we need to save my best friend. But now my heart melts for Mirko. A lesser man could’ve used Sanjam on Mr. Richter to get him to agree.

Mirko left Mr. Richter’s freedom intact and paid him so we can save Kaitlynn.

I don’t care Jaren’s in the room with us and will see. I stand on my tiptoes and grab Mirko’s head, bringing him down to meet my lips. I block out the odor in the morgue, the horror of David’s death, the foulness we’ll have to put Kaitlynn through. I focus on Mirko.

I never imagined my life would take as many twists and turns as it has, but the one thing I will always be grateful for is him. “Thank you,” I whisper against his lips. The words aren’t adequate for what my heart longs to tell him.

He kisses me again, and I know he understands. He pulls away but remains close enough that his tongue brushes against my mouth when he licks his lips.

It’s hot as hell.

My skin tingles and my gut clenches. My body responds to him regardless of where we stand.

His lip curls for a second before he drops it and steps back. “I’m not sure this will work, but we don’t have any other Pijawikas here. Will you let Mr. Richter drink from you?”

Normally I would be skittish about letting anyone other than Mirko drink from me, but I’m willing to do anything to save Kaitlynn. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“We have nothing else.” He strolls over to Mr. Richter and I follow him. “Are you ready?” he asks Mr. Richter.

“As ready as I’m eva’ gon’ be,” Mr. Richter says, accent thick in his weak voice.

“Give me your arm,” Mirko says.

I lift my hand into his.

He brings my wrist to his mouth and bites down.

Pain blossoms along with the blood, and I suck air in between my teeth. It hurts worse than last time.

Mirko licks some of the blood from my wound—which I think is purely for his own satisfaction than anything else—before he places my wrist in front of Mr. Richter and says, “Drink.”

Mr. Richter opens his mouth and somewhat lifts his head.

I place my wrist against his mouth, and his feeble tongue strokes against the gashes in my wrist. He struggles.

Empathy fills me as such a simple task takes so much from him. “Thank you.” I place my other hand on his shoulder and give him a small squeeze. My words still feel inadequate. Sure Mirko paid for him to be a part of this process, but how could I not be grateful to the man who has a crucial role in saving Kaitlynn’s life?

Mr. Richter drinks until he’s almost too weak to swallow anymore. Mirko pulls me away. “That should be good.”

Mr. Richter settles onto his pillow and closes his eyes.

I watch him for a few minutes until I’m sure I can’t see his chest moving anymore.

He’s dead.

It seems too simple, too quiet for a man to have just died. Every death I’ve witnessed is ugly or loud or gruesome. Mr. Richter’s is peaceful and serene. Well, as serene as you can get in death, I guess. And I’m glad he got that.

I’m also sad David and Lijepa didn’t.

“Now what?” Jaren asks. He looks desolate, sad in every way you would expect someone who barely lost a loved one to look. I’m sure our attempt to save Kaitlynn only reminds him we couldn’t save David as well.

“Now we wait,” Mirko says.

We sit in the morgue for a couple of hours and watch Kaitlynn and Mr. Richter. For what, I’m not sure. We just stare at them.