Leo had gathered him up, and now Grégoire’s head was resting on Leo’s lap, his golden hair spread over Leo’s legs and across the wood floor. His limbs were unmoving and limp, his black shirt ripped open to reveal his pale chest. Grégoire was gasping like a human, his eyes filled with bloody tears, yet his eyes had bled back to human blue irises. Leo was bending over his friend, his black hair hanging down over Grégoire’s golden blond, the strands mixing. Leo looked pale, his skin with a slightly bluish tinge, and I remembered that he had been bitten by the light-creature. Leo hadn’t healed as quickly as Gee DiMercy. And Grégoire didn’t appear to be healing at all.
I had wanted to prove something. I didn’t like what I’d proven. The bruise on Grégoire’s neck was spectacular, totally unlike any bruise I had ever seen on anyone, human or vamp. It was purple in the center, a long, narrow, deep purple indentation just below where the skull and neck came together, in the shape of my weapon’s blunt edge. The bruise around it was swelling, spreading, blooming like a scarlet flower, the blood beneath his skin flooding like petals. Like a fuchsia flower beneath the white, white skin.
Soft words filled the air in the gym. I didn’t understand a single one, but I knew Grégoire was cursing fluently under his breath, the syllables French-sounding, and Leo was whispering back in the same language. I heard a faint snicking sound and the Master of the City lifted his wrist, biting the flesh on the inside of his own lower arm. Blood rolled out and Leo placed the wound to Grégoire’s lips, cradling his friend’s head with his palm. Grégoire sealed his lips around the bite and sucked.
Bethany appeared with a small pop of air and settled to the floor with them. The priestess extended her fangs and bit into Grégoire’s arm near the brachial artery. Her hair, as always, was knotted and twisted into locks, worked with hundreds of gold and stone beads, the mass pulled to the nape of her neck, hiding her ears, but showing the many hoops and studs that hung there. Bethany Salazar y Medina was African. Unlike most vamps, whose skin paled after long years without the sun, her flesh had remained blue black, her lips like storm clouds at night. Her sclera were brownish, her irises blacker than that dark, stormy night. As she sucked, she lifted her head to me and stared.
Bethany was crazy, and not in a fun, party-girl kinda way. Bethany was scary. I took a step back as her power began to rise and tingle across my skin like needles. She poured her magic into Grégoire, healing magic that the others didn’t seem to feel, dancing on their skin, nearly as much as I did.
A small crowd had begun to gather, standing apart from me, except for Eli, and no one was looking at us. Eli murmured, “How badly are you hurt?” I turned from Bethany to him and then looked down, where his eyes rested on my bloody clothes.
“I don’t know.” I looked back to my opponent and Leo and the priestess. It occurred to me that she was around an awful lot lately. Or, rather, that she lived here and I was the one who was around a lot lately. I wondered who she was feeding off of to keep her relatively sane. I was pretty sure it used to be Bruiser. I shook my head to clear it of the effects of her magics, and took yet another step away. “How bad is Grégoire hurt?”
“He’s undead. How bad can it be?”
I spluttered with laughter that I turned into a cough as Eli took my elbow and led me from the room, to a small windowless space just off the women’s locker room. It was about ten by twelve, with two small sofas, two small chairs, and tiny tables covered with magazines. I had never been in it. Eli had been exploring, which was good. We needed to know this place much better than we now did. The room looked like a waiting area off a surgery suite, or off a courtroom, with dull brown and blue plaid stain-resistant furniture and industrial carpet. Eli quickly loosened his own white gear and then started helping me to remove mine.
I was hurt quite a bit worse than I had thought, with the skin sliced deeply into the muscle beneath, and the clotting blood sealing itself to the fabric over the wounds. There had been no pain until I saw gashes, and then they started throbbing, a steady, pounding misery. I sat down fast, onto the unyielding surface of the hard sofa. Eli slipped out of the room, and with him gone, I pushed on the cut along the bottom of my ribs. Lightning pain flashed along my nerves and the breath I took sounded like a string of S’s. Blood flooded out across my side and belly, under my ruined undershirt.
From the hallway, I heard Eli say to someone, “Ask him to come now.” Closing the door softly behind him, Eli reentered, carrying a basket of rolled towels. He pressed one to the newly opened wound. Quietly, he asked, “Do you need to shift? Do you have time?”
“No. I don’t want to do that again. Not here. Not ever. Not near—” I stopped.
“Not near fangheads. Especially not near Leo. Who wants to own you enough anyway, without making him more covetous of you.”
My eyes found his face and I shuddered with a tiny laugh. He understood. Without my telling him, Eli understood. “Yeah. That.”
“I’ve asked Edmund to help. Okay?”