Sin Undone

Finally, nothing moved. Sin stood in the middle of the small camp, numb. Con was still hopped up from the battle, his fangs as large as a mountain lion’s, his muscles twitching. Sin sensed the darkness in him, the battle and bloodlusts that should have triggered her own, but for once, she was just numb.

The born wargs had managed to take out everyone before they’d fallen victim to Sin’s blades and Con’s hands.

“Son of a bitch,” Con said roughly. His chest still heaved with exertion from the fight. “They did it. Someone leaked the fact that only the varcolac are affected.”

“You think it was a Councilmember? There are probably staff members at UG who know.” She didn’t mention that his granddaughter and her mate knew as well. He swept the area with his silver gaze, his entire body tense, his expression grim. “It’s possible it was someone from UG, but I’d bet my left nut it was someone on the Council. The varcolac were furious at the meeting. I’m not sure their leader, Raynor, was convinced that SF isn’t a conspiracy to kill them. And Valko… he’ll take any excuse to let the pricolici kill off the varcolac.”

“This whole thing just keeps getting worse.” A sudden, shooting pain streaked down her right arm. She clapped a hand over her shoulder where one of her glyphs, a round sundial-shaped mark, had split in two. Odd. The gashes that usually appeared in her dermoire were straight lines, but this was a zigzag, a perfect Z that didn’t extend beyond the faded black lines of the circle.

Con’s brow furrowed. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she lied, because the truth was, she didn’t care. Her little sting was nothing compared to the suffering she’d caused. Con’s hand lifted to cup her cheek, and the tender caress of his fingers on her skin might as well have been a wrecking ball, the way it cracked her shield of numbness. Her chest tightened and her throat closed up as all the deaths piled high on her conscience. All of it was her fault, and she suddenly felt like she was drowning in blood.

“I’ve got to fix this,” she whispered. “I’ve got to end it, Con. My life can’t have been about death.” “This will end, Sin—” He paused, his tawny brows drawing together. “Did you hear that?”

She started to shake her head, but then a small cry breached the silence. She didn’t wait for Con. She sprinted toward the sound, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw a woman lying in the open doorway of a shed behind the cabins. She knew immediately what it was: a sick hut.

For dying wargs.

The female shrank back at Sin’s approach, her watery gaze full of terror.

“Hey,” Sin said softly, as she sank to her knees. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” Con sank down on his heels beside Sin, dropping his medic bag to the ground. “Are you injured?” “Sick.” She coughed, and blood sprayed onto the ground. “My family… are they…”

“I’m sorry.” Con pulled two pairs of surgical gloves out of the bag and offered one to Sin, but she shook her head. “They didn’t make it.” At her ragged sob, Con gripped the woman’s wrist gently with one gloved hand, probably to check her pulse. “When did the first symptoms appear?”

“This morning.” Con met Sin’s gaze, and she nodded. “Might be early enough for me to try.” Sin smoothed the female’s limp brown hair away from her face as tenderly as she could. Her skin was hot, probably sensitive, and she didn’t want to cause any more pain. “What’s your name?”

“Pamela.”

“Pamela, I’m going to try to heal you. Be still, okay?” A shudder went through her slender body, but she nodded. Leaving her hand on Pamela’s cheek, Sin powered up her gift. The familiar tingle wound its way down her arm and to her fingertips, and the moment it entered the werewolf, Pamela gasped.

Con’s soothing, deep voice assured Pamela that everything was okay, and though Sin wasn’t so sure about that, she appreciated the way he was so calm, so sure, so… sympathetic. He might have taken the job because Eidolon forced his hand, but Con belonged in the medical field, and she wondered if he realized that.

Sin punched her power through Pamela’s body, seeking out the virus. Compared to the other wargs Sin had tried to cure, this one had very low levels, and taking out the individual virus strands wasn’t nearly as difficult as she’d thought it would be.

Eventually, the virus was dead. Gone. A thrill of excitement rode her as hard as exhaustion did, and she smiled as she released Pamela and collapsed against the side of the shack. “It’s gone,” she rasped. “I think you’re okay.”

Con looked up from digging through his medic gear. “What about you?”

“I could use a month of sleep, but I’m fine.” Sin reached over and helped the other female sit up. “How are you feeling?”

Pamela swayed, but remained upright. “I’m hungry.” “That’s a good sign.” Con smiled, and though this wasn’t the time or place for Sin to appreciate the raw masculinity he threw off when he did that, well, she definitely appreciated it. “I’m going to take some blood, but I want you to head to Underworld General.”