"That's it for the chart," Alex lied. "If you're not busy, Blondie, I'll need those supplies that aren't in the cabinet, and a better centrifuge."
"I will see to it, Doctor." The Frenchwoman all but ran from the lab.
"She is modest," Richard said as he sat up.
More like she was head over heels about him, Alex guessed. But Richard had been a changeling for a hundred fifty years plus; how could Éliane have lost her heart to that face?
You began falling in love with Cyprien when he didn't even have a face.
Out loud Alex said, "I'll need you back to draw some blood as soon as Blondie gets the rest of what I need. I'd also like to review all of your medical records, past lab tests, and any X-rays or scans performed on you."
He began to dress. "I will see what was recovered by my guards. Do you know why your blood did not kill Lucan's woman?"
She kept her expression bland. "Why, no, I don't."
"You are a poor liar. It was a remarkable thing. No Kyn has turned a human since Michael changed you." Awkwardly he buttoned his shirt. "Now you are changing humans just as easily as we once did."
Easily her ass. "I didn't change Samantha Brown; Lucan did. I tried to stop him. I didn't ask to be changed, either. Shouldn't you be talking to Michael about this?"
He pulled his cloak on with the careless movements of a man used to wearing one daily. "When you take my blood, you will have Éliane take yours as well. You may compare your blood to that of any Kyn here that you wish. I want to know how you do it."
"Blondie is not sticking me, and besides, that wasn't part of the deal."
He eyed her. "I made no deal with you."
Shit. "What I meant is, I'm only going to work on helping you. I'm not going to risk poisoning another human on the off chance that it will turn them into Kyn."
"It did not poison the woman in Chicago," he said in a reasonable way.
"Jema Shaw was a baby when she was accidentally exposed to Valentin's blood," Alex said, trying to keep her temper in check. "A crazy man spent thirty years drugging her to keeping her from maturing and changing, and probably from dying."
"Indeed. How do you explain Samantha Brown changing?"
"Detective Brown was dying from a fatal gunshot. Lucan was desperate. I don't…" What was she doing?
Discussing this with him? "It doesn't matter. I'm not testing my blood. No one is taking my blood. My blood is officially off-limits."
The dark odor of cherry tobacco became smothering. "You will do as you are told."
Richard's words bored into Alex's head, echoing through her mind. It wasn't the first time he'd used his talent on her, but he'd never thrown this much at her. Her eardrums seemed to press in, and her entire body wanted to go stiff.
Not this time.
Alex barely hid her astonishment as the effects of Richard's talent ebbed out of her, leaving her unmoved and unafraid. It wasn't her ability to resist it; Richard's ability to influence humans and Kyn was changing. "I said, you can't have my blood."
The high lord hobbled over to her and peered into her eyes. "Congratulations, Doctor. You are the first Kyn to fully resist me in seven centuries."
If what Alex suspected was true, she wouldn't be the last. "Immortal life's a bitch."
"There is something I would show you before I have Korvel lock you in your room." Richard sounded almost bored as he went over and switched on a monitor that Alex hadn't spotted. "This is from a security camera I had installed yesterday in the quarters for our newest American guest."
Alex's blood chilled. "Who is it?"
"Come and see."
She thought of Samantha, and Jema, and even Grace Cho, her former office manager. But when she saw who was pacing the floor of the guest room, she swore viciously. "You shit son of a bitch."
John Keller turned his back on the security camera and went to stare out the window.
"Doubtless I am," Richard said softly. "I assure you that no harm will come to your brother. He will be shown every possible courtesy… as long as you do not defy me again."
Alex felt her own fingernails cutting into her palms. "If I do?"
"Then, Doctor, I will see to it that John suffers pain that not even he, with all of his tragic experiences in Rome, can imagine." He showed her all of his teeth. "Personally."
Chapter 9
"A girl." The old man's laugh grated against Gabriel's ears. "Benait will soil his pants, he see I caught this little mouse in his trap. You good as stinking cheese, maledicti."
Opening his eyes had decided many things for Gabriel, who had freed himself and now walked up behind the old man. Claudio turned, his shriek dying under Gabriel's fangs.
Piercing the old man's sour flesh disgusted Gabriel, but blood was blood. He fed, taking only enough to partially heal his wounds and render Claudio unconscious. Strength returned Gabriel's control, enabling him to lower Claudio's limp body to the floor instead of tearing it apart. He would need to feed again, and soon, but he had to attend to Nick and take her out of this place.
… this little mouse in his trap.
Claudio may have meant to kill the girl, but the old man's gloating had effectively caged Gabriel's thirst. They had not brought him to this place to punish him, or kill him, or do anything more to him. All had been done. Benait had merely used him as a lure.
But what did the Brethren want with an American tourist?
Gabriel stripped off Claudio's trousers, pulling them up his own bare legs before he knelt down by the unconscious girl. After checking her pulse, which was faint but steady, he lifted her carefully into his arms. It would not do to drop her in a moment of weakness.
She weighs nothing.
Gabriel carried her over to the hole she had knocked through the brick and climbed through it with her. As a cloud of buzzing drifted toward them, he opened his mind, reaching out to the tiny insects with his talent. They responded by swarming in front of him, a tiny airborne army he thought of as the many. Humans found them annoying, even frightening, and Gabriel had once used his ability to summon and control all insects to help him on the hunt. Since being taken by the Brethren, however, Gabriel had depended on the many for his survival. As he did now by connecting with the group mind of the swarm, and commanded them to guide him up and out of his prison.
Free.
The moment he stepped out of the chapel, his skin came alive. Fresh, deliciously cool air caressed him, the fingers of a shy lover. Being in the world again, unfettered, unguarded, bound only by earth and sky, was almost more than he could bear. He stood, fighting back terrible urges to run and shout and destroy everything in his path, and made himself feel the quiet of the night. Gradually he realized it was the weight of the girl in his arms that kept him from losing the last of his self-control.
Gabriel shifted her so that he could touch his mouth to the top of her head. "J'apprécie ce que vous avez fait pour moi, mademoiselle."
She stirred and groaned. "My head."
American, she is American. "Do not be afraid." He spoke excellent English, but it had been so long since he had talked to anyone in that language that the words came slowly. Or perhaps it was the fact that she spoke in the voice from his dreams. "You are safe with me."
Out in the open, the swarm tried to disperse, attracted to the delicious smells of refuse coming from nearby trash bins. Gabriel released them before he turned in the opposite direction, toward the woods.
Walking through the grass made the soles of his feet tingle with delight, but passing through the first of the trees felt like being admitted through the gates of heaven. At last he was in his element, the forest, the one place on earth in which he could virtually disappear.
Nick had come through here, too. He could smell the leaves and spores on her clothing, and if he concentrated enough, he could probably track and retrace her path. She must have hidden her motorcycle in the woods before coming to the chapel on foot; that was why he hadn't heard the engine sound. She had not wanted Claudio to catch her again.
Cunning and cautious. He could hardly believe she came back for him without the constant influence of his scent. Who is she?
The sound of a stream drew him like a magnet; water would help revive her to full consciousness and allow him to clean the blood and filth from his body. The second was almost as important to him as the first. The Brethren had never permitted him to bathe; occasionally they had tossed a bucket of cold water on him to revive him or to neutralize some of the odor when his wounds had festered.
Since being sealed in the chapel basement, Gabriel had been only too aware of his body's growing stench. Using l'attrait had masked most of it from Nick, but Gabriel couldn't keep her bespelled indefinitely.
It didn't matter how he smelled. I must question her and then send her far from this place.
Water rushed in merry abandonment a few feet in front of him, and Gabriel carefully climbed down the gentle slope of the bank until the current rushed over his feet. He crouched, bringing her face close to his as he freed one arm and touched her head, searching for wounds. Nothing marred the smoothness of her skin and the pleasing contours of her features. Soft, full curls sprang from the passage of his palm; he wondered why she kept such wonderfully thick, sleek hair shorn so close to her head.
He traced the edges of her hairline. She keeps it cut like a boy. Yet Claudio's words had assured him that she was not.
At last his fingers found a large swollen spot on the back of her skull where the old priest must have struck her. Gently he bathed the spot with a cupped handful of water and felt her rouse again.
"That hurts."
Had Claudio killed her with the blow, it surely would have snapped the last strand of Gabriel's sanity. "I imagine it does." Her voice sounded so young and uncertain that guilt pummeled his chest and gut. "I am sorry."
"Why?" Her voice grew steadier, stronger. "You didn't hit me."