Kiss of Steel (35 page)

He’d known it might come to this when they set out to hunt the vampire, which was why he’d always kept O’Shay, Tin Man, and Rip in the background. They were only human. He hated even having Will at his side, but at least the verwulfen could heal almost any damage—and Blade could not do this alone.

Something rattled nearby, breath through a man’s torn throat. Blade’s head shot up and he stared at Rip and the spreading pool of blood beneath the man’s body. Placing O’Shay’s head on the ground as gently as he could, he scuttled on hands and knees toward Rip.

“Rip?” He slid his fingers behind the man’s jaw, feeling for a pulse. The gurgling whisper of Rip’s breath came again, harsh and strained. And his heartbeat pulsed against Blade’s fingertips. It was weak, but it was there.

“Sweet Jaysus.” Blade gently eased Rip onto his back. The man’s abdomen was torn open and his throat slashed, but the vampire had missed his carotid artery. A miracle. A bloody miracle. And yet as soon as Blade thought it, his eyes assessed the damage. It was a gut wound, a mortal wound. There was no way a human could heal this.

“Shit.” Tears swam in his eyes. Rip had been with him the longest. Lark would be devastated. And Esme…His fingers grasped Rip’s coat. Esme’s heart would break. She had already buried one husband.

Rip’s eyes widened with pain and panic. His fingers clutched at Blade’s coat sleeve as blood bubbled on his lips.

Such was Blade’s grief that he didn’t hear the soft footsteps on the rooftop behind him until Honoria laid a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Blade,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

Blade nodded curtly, unable to reply. The lump in his throat was sharp with guilt. He’d been inside with Charlie too long. If only he had come out earlier, he would have been there when the vampire first attacked. The two men had had no chance against the creature once Will was down.

Honoria knelt at Rip’s head and eased her knees underneath it to form a pillow. His eyes rolled back to see what was happening, then another bubble broke on his lips. His breathing came easier, though. What was left of it.

“Is there nothing you can do?” she asked.

Blade stared at the mess of exposed viscera. “Me blood can ’eal a wound, but not like this. And not before ’e chokes to death.”

Honoria stroked her hand over Rip’s shaved head. “So it’s his lungs that will kill him?”

Blade nodded.

It was a long moment before she spoke again. “You couldn’t…you couldn’t do what you did to Charlie?”

Blade’s gaze shot to hers. A wild hope. Virtually impossible. But Esme…If there was a chance, no matter how slim, he had to take it.

“Ain’t ever infected someone so badly injured.”

She laid her hand over his, her warmth taking away some of the awful cold that seemed to fill him up. “The older the blue blood, the stronger the virus.” Her hand stilled on Rip’s forehead. “It might work. All of your other data overshoots the expected outcomes.”

Blade looked down at his friend again. Rip’s gaze found his. “We’re goin’ to give you me blood,” he said, squeezing the big man’s metal hand. Rip probably didn’t feel it, but Blade needed to hold something. “The virus might keep you ’live long enough to ’eal your wounds.”

He pushed past the lump in his throat. He knew how Rip felt about becoming a blue blood; he’d offered once, only to have the man soundly reject him. “If you don’t want it, blink. If you do, squeeze me fingers.” Before the man had a chance to reply, Blade leaned low, cupping Rip’s hand in both of his. “But know that this’ll devastate Esme.” A cruel move. But worth it if his friend chose life.

Rip froze, staring up at him. Thought flickered behind his eyes, and then slowly he squeezed Blade’s fingers.

Relief flooded through Blade’s mind, followed by bleak despair. This was a desperate last attempt to save a life. The Echelon had laws that forbade infecting a sick or injured person. With so little strength, the virus could overtake them far swifter than it could a healthy adult male. And it was harder to fight the bloodlust without all of a man’s strength behind him. If it succeeded, he would have to watch Rip carefully. If…

“’Old ’is ’ead,” he told Honoria firmly. “Whatever you do, don’t let ’im move.”

Then he withdrew one of his razors and slashed it lengthwise down the vein in his own wrist.

***

Blade had decided that it wasn’t safe for them to stay at Honoria’s house for the night with the vampire on the loose and its odd interest in the Todd family. Besides, Honoria didn’t think she could stay away from him. The look in his eyes was bleak. She wanted to press her hand against his cheek, her lips to his forehead. Anything to ease his pain. But when she’d tried to take his hand in hers, he’d snapped at her and shaken loose.
Distracted
, she told herself.

Lena’s wrist was swollen but not broken, and Charlie’s eyelids were starting to droop sleepily. Will was on his feet, but only through sheer willpower. Bruises marred the skin beneath his eyes, and he could barely manage to keep his eyelids open. The loupe virus had closed the wound across his abdomen. Now it was trying to heal the rest of him. Though insanely strong in battle, verwulfen were vulnerable following injury, when the virus knocked them unconscious in order to heal.

Lena hovered at his side, her face pale and strained. It had been a nasty shock for her tonight. Honoria hadn’t had a chance to ask her what happened, but Will had mentioned that “bloody, stupid girl” launching herself at the vampire when it attacked him. Honoria couldn’t have been prouder, and yet she wanted to shake some sense into her sister. What had she been thinking?

Blade carried Rip carefully, his body staggering with weariness. He’d lost too much blood today, both in donating it to Charlie and Rip and in the healing slash the vampire’s claws had gouged in his side. Honoria kept a careful eye on him. It was a weary, battle-stained little group.

The warren came into view, cheery lights gleaming in the upstairs windows. Esme, no doubt, trying to make a home for the men.

Honoria pushed past Blade, opening the door.

“Thanks,” he murmured, swinging Rip through. It looked ridiculous, one man carrying a giant like a child balancing an adult in his arms.

They were almost to the stairs when Esme came down, a candlestick in her hand and a gentle smile on her lips. “Honoria,” she said, greeting them warmly, and then her gaze took in Honoria’s bloodstained skirts. “What happened? What…” And then she looked past to where Blade stepped into view. The color drained from her face as she saw who was in his arms. Another woman might have screamed or gasped, but Esme went white as a ghost and staggered against the wall. “John,” she whispered.

Blade’s face was grim. “I give ’im me blood. I ’ad to. ’E’s still breathin’, but I can’t promise you anythin’.”

Esme nodded, her hand sliding along the wall as though she couldn’t quite keep herself upright. Honoria leaped up the stairs and caught her before she fell.

“I’m so sorry,” Esme murmured in shock. “I don’t know what came over me.” She looked at Rip again in disbelief.

All of the remaining questions regarding Esme and Blade’s precise relationship shriveled.
Oh
. Honoria looked at the villainous-looking giant dubiously.

“’E needs blood, Esme,” Blade said.

“Aye,” Esme whispered. “Bring him to his room.”

“Are you sure?” Blade asked. “It ain’t been long since you offered to me.”

A firm look came into the woman’s eyes. “I’m strong enough. And you’ll be there to contain him if necessary.”

They turned and made their way up the stairs. Blade swung Rip through the doorway, easing him onto the bed. He knelt for a moment on the edge of the mattress, a hand pressed against his side as he breathed hard.

Honoria pressed her palm against the small of his back and raised a questioning eyebrow when he looked at her.

His lips thinned. “I’m right as rain. Just let me catch me breath.”

Esme plumped the pillows. The jagged wound at Rip’s throat had closed almost completely, courtesy of a splash of Blade’s blood. Just what precisely was Blade’s CV count coming in at? He had to be close to seventy or eighty percent for Rip’s wound to heal so swiftly. A troubling thought, for it meant Blade was also standing on the verge of the Fade.

Esme knelt on the bed and started to unbutton her collar. Rip focused on her so intensely that Honoria almost felt as though she was intruding on something private. A strangled noise came from his throat. “No,” he managed to spit out. “Not ’er.”

His hand rose to push Esme away, but Blade caught it, forcing it back to the bed. The iron fingers closed around his and Blade squeezed back, his teeth clenched. “This is what you agreed to,” he said. “And there ain’t nobody else. Unless you’d prefer it to be Lark?”

Rip’s green eyes rolled wildly, searching for escape. He shook his head.

Esme took matters into her own hands, straddling Rip’s hips and leaning over him. Her collar gaped, revealing a slim throat marred by tiny, silvery scars. “John Doolan,” she said in a firm, no-nonsense voice and grabbed his face in both hands. “My blood’s as good as any other, and you’ll damned well drink it or I’ll box your ears. You can choose your own thralls when you’re well again.”

Rip’s eyes blazed as they focused on Esme’s face. His mouth thinned, and then suddenly his right hand jerked up, the fingers clenching her skirts. Esme gasped, but Blade was there to ease the big man back onto the bed as he jerked Esme toward him.

“Easy now, lad,” Blade murmured. “I’ll ’elp you through it, but you ’as to remember to be gentle. You don’t want to frighten ’er, do you?”

Movement danced at the corner of her vision. Honoria turned and saw Will watching the scene, his golden eyes burning and his nostrils flaring with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. He should have been in bed, but somehow he had dragged himself up here to watch.

Will’s eyes met hers and then he turned on his heel and strode away. Behind her, Honoria heard Esme’s gasp and Blade murmuring, “That’s it, big man. Be easy with ’er.”

They had the injured man well in hand. There was no need for her to be here. She strode for the door, startling Charlie in the hallway. In her haste she almost walked directly into him, but he jerked back with a horrified expression on his face, as though he was afraid to touch her.

“Where’s Lena?” she asked, fighting the urge to reach out to him.

“She went with Lark to the kitchens to boil water and fetch bandages,” he said, staring at the ground.

Honoria took a step back, giving him the distance he desired. It tore through her, a spear to the heart, but she did it. A part of her would never forget the look in his eyes as he admitted to Blade how much he’d thought about drinking their blood.
He
just
needs
time
, she thought and then prayed that it was true.

“Do you want me to find you a bed—”

Charlie pressed his back against the wall. “No. No, it’s fine. I’ll wait here. In case they need me.”

Another knife to the heart. He was afraid to be alone with her. Honoria’s voice softened. “I’ll be back. I’m just going to see how Will is.”

She went to Will’s room at the back of the house. The door was shut, but light spilled beneath it. Knocking, she pressed an ear against the thick wood to listen.

“Go ’way,” he growled.

“You’re still bleeding. Would you like me to see to it? I have some skill at tending patients.”

“No.”

“May I come in?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, instead pushing the door open.

The room was smaller than she would have expected. Her eyes darted around, surprised by the accumulation of belongings. The bed was narrow and better suited for a child, with a faded patchwork quilt over the threadbare sheets. Simple shelves held dozens and dozens of children’s books, all of them well read and their spines cracked. There were bits of feathers and rocks scattered in a collection of polished mahogany boxes laid open upon a small desk, and a curl of dark hair, carefully bound with a pink silk ribbon. Esme’s hair.

Will growled and slammed the box shut over the hair, obscuring her view. He was shirtless and radiating displeasure. From the bandages on the bed, his intentions were evident.

“You should wash the wound,” she said. “Before you bandage it.”

He scowled and turned toward the bed, limping slightly. The broad plane of his back was heavy with thick muscle.

“I’m not going to go away,” she said.

“It’ll heal. Your help ain’t needed.”

“You mean you don’t want it. You do, in fact, need it.” She took a hesitant step forward. He was so big and surly that if he made a move toward her, she probably couldn’t stop him. And yet with Blade preoccupied, Will needed someone to care for him.

He ignored her, swiping at his bloodied stomach with a wet swatch of linen. The cloth looked relatively clean, but Honoria couldn’t help pursing her lips as she peered at the bowl of water.

“You don’t like me,” she said, taking another stealthy step toward him. “Since I don’t believe I’ve ever done anything to harm you, I can only assume you don’t approve of my association with Blade.”