chapter 25
Gerard couldn’t explain what had awakened him from the regenerative slumber shortly before three in the afternoon—earlier than his usual time. Had changing the dosing schedule given him the extra half hour of daylight? Would continuing to take the injections in the morning allow him to awaken even earlier? Was a cure actually possible?
He ran his tongue over his teeth. His fangs descended.
He was still a vampire—but he was a vampire no longer incapacitated by the day sleep. He was wide-awake and alert. And the sun was shining. It was truly a miracle.
So why did he feel so anxious?
The bed beside him was empty, but that wasn’t surprising. Amber was mortal—for the most part. Despite having stayed up most of the night, she’d never sleep all day.
Thinking about her normally gave him a warm feeling in the center of his chest. Not today. A sense of doom filled him. His stomach knotted.
Unaccountably apprehensive, he threw on his clothes and stepped into the hall, nearly colliding with Vincent.
“Something’s wrong,” Vincent said, his voice strained with worry.
“I feel it too.” Amber was afraid. He sensed danger surrounding her—more acutely than he had when G-2 attacked and Nicolas rescued her.
They headed toward the kitchen. The coffee in the cups on the table had grown cold.
“They have a head start,” Vincent said, curling his hand around the cold cup until it shattered. Coffee ran over his hand and dripped to the floor. He threw the ceramic shards to the ground and spun on his heel, snarling at Gerard. “Amber went after Weldon and took Megan with her. If anything happens to her, I’ll rip—”
Gerard threw up his palms, hitting Vincent in the chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him. “You’re not going to touch her, Vin. Not as long as I draw breath.”
“She’s putting my wife in danger!”
“You don’t think Megan wanted to go?” Megan wasn’t a shrinking violet. Vincent should have known that by now. “If she thought she could help put an end to Weldon’s experiments, she would have insisted on going. Amber would have had to put her in handcuffs to stop her and you know it.”
Vincent raked a hand through his dark hair and growled. “Damn it. Don’t you think I know that? My wife never does what she’s told. I can’t control her.”
“Then stop trying, mon ami.”
Fear ravaged his face. “You don’t understand. It’s my fault she’s in trouble. If I had only erased her mind instead of marrying her, she could have lived her life in blissful ignorance of our existence. Instead, I selfishly tried to keep her. In doing so, I may have forfeited her life.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I can’t go on living without her.”
A lump formed in Gerard’s throat. He swallowed against it, knowing exactly how Vincent felt. “L'espoir fait vivre—Where there’s life, there’s hope. Let’s not give up just yet. We can save them and maybe keep them too.”
“We'll burn. Megan has the sunblock.”
Gerard wasn't giving up. "Amber's car is in the garage. How fast can you drive?"
They covered as much skin as possible, grabbed comforters off the beds and ran out of the house in a vampiric blur
****
Amber opened her eyes against the pain. Her vision shimmered into focus. Hospital lights nearly blinded her. She tried raising her arms to shield her eyes but couldn’t move. Her wrists were strapped down. So were her legs.
She took a deep breath, trying to hold the fear at bay.
Cold metal pressed against her arms and seeped through her shirt, chilling her back. Weldon had strapped her to the autopsy table. Bile rose into her throat. She swallowed it down and turned her head to the left, catching a glimpse of the walk-in refrigerator.
Thank God. Weldon had strapped her to the prep table in the kitchen—not the autopsy table.
Her short-lived relief withered and died. Where were Megan and Reid? Were they still alive?
She turned her head to the right. The busted refrigerator door had been propped back into place, covering the entrance to the refrigerator. A metal rod had been bent and twisted around the hinges, holding the door closed. There was only one reason for Weldon to have done that and it wasn’t to keep control of his clone. G-2 was dead.
“Reid? Megan?” she said, her voice strained and weak.
“It's about time you woke up." Weldon stepped into her line of vision. “Your friends are safe—for now. The seal’s broken on the door so they won’t freeze, but they’ll be pretty damn cold when they wake up.”
“What did you do to them?” Amber asked, straining against the straps binding her to the table.
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Mortals are just weak. The other cop was out cold. I gave Megan a little tap and knocked her out. I’d never hurt her. She’s much too important to my research. Don’t you see?”
Amber glared and didn’t respond. Her mind was furiously searching for a means of escape.
“I saw you snooping around Lifeblood after the murders. My vampire tried to capture you when he went after Megan. But she was gone and another vampire saved you. Who is he?”
Amber held her tongue. She’d learn more keeping silent than by antagonizing him. And anything she had to say would most likely piss him off.
“You are a quiet one. Aren’t you, detective?” He smiled. “Yes, I know you’re a detective. I know all about you and your partner. But what I don’t know is who that vampire was that saved you.”
Had her arms been free, she would have folded them across her chest. Instead, she turned her head toward the walk-in freezer.
His bony fingers pinched her chin. He jerked her head around, forcing eye contact. “Who is he? Why was he interested in saving a mortal?”
Imagining a brick wall, she blocked his efforts to read her mind.
“How are you doing that?”He leaned forward and sniffed. “Why don’t you smell mortal? Why didn't you taste mortal?” Fear briefly flashed behind his eyes. “What are you?”
She bared her teeth—her normal, mortal teeth. He hadn’t converted her. Thank God. “I told you. I’m your worst nightmare.”
Ha! A bound dhampir was a threat to no one, especially a vampire.
A demonic light flashed behind his eyes, turning them from brown to red. “Then I guess I’ll just have to experiment on you and find out. Won’t I?”
Dear God. What have I done?
She swallowed against a paralyzing fear, working frantically at the leather straps binding her to the table. She twisted and turned her hands until sweat rolled over her wrists. Miraculously, one hand slipped free.
She cast a terrified glance behind her. Weldon had stepped out of the room. Had he returned to the morgue to get his tools? The bone saw? Or a rib spreader?
Salty tears stung her eyes as she reached for the leather strap binding her left hand. Rusted metal buckles like those on a belt allowed the straps to be pulled through and tightened. The restraints were as old as the sanatorium.
Once her left arm was free, she sat up, frantically working the straps loose from her ankles. Before she could free her left leg, Weldon returned.
He dropped his supplies. Metal clattered to the floor. Glass shattered. His fingers curled around her shoulders, forcing her back down. “You bitch.”
“Let go.” She tried twisting free, but his grip was too strong—too powerful. It felt as if he were crushing her bones.
He pulled a strap up from the table leg and looped it around her neck. Then suddenly, the pressure eased. A roaring filled her head—a sound not unlike an enraged lion.
Heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope, she sat up on the steel table. Gerard had Weldon in a chokehold, pulling him away from her. His face was a mask of rage. His beautiful eyes flashed blue fire before turning a flaming red.
Weldon snarled and tore free of Gerard’s grip. Gerard came at him with fists raised. Weldon evaded.
Where the hell is Vincent?
Before she’d completed the thought, the freezer door sailed across the room. “Megan!” Vincent stormed inside, rushing to his wife.
Amber freed her legs from the straps and jumped off the table. Megan’s bag lay on the floor where Weldon had dropped it. The bone saw lay beside it. Her hand hovered over it. The saw required electricity to work and she wasn’t likely to do much damage wielding it like a club. The shattered remains of a glass vial with a purple stopper lay beside a twenty-two gauge needle. An empty plastic syringe had skittered across the floor to land beneath the prep table.
It looked as if Weldon had planned to draw her blood first. And then what? Saw off an arm to see if it’d grow back like the appendage of a starfish?
Oh hell no. Weldon wasn’t going to experiment on her or anyone else ever again.
The rage returned, filling her with strength and purpose. She reached inside Megan’s medical bag and withdrew a pre-filled syringe. She lightly depressed the plunger, releasing a single drop of yellowish fluid that smelled faintly of garlic. Vampire sedative.
Armed and ready, she jumped to her feet. Gerard and Weldon looked like mismatched wrestlers. A welterweight fighting a heavy weight. Weldon was faster, dodging Gerard’s inhumanly fast punches. But was he stronger? Could Gerard take him if he got in another blow? It didn’t matter. Amber wasn’t about to give Weldon a chance to hurt Gerard again. She’d knock his ass out first.
She took a step forward, waiting for the opportunity to attack, hoping Vincent would come out of the freezer and assist Gerard, thereby increasing both their odds. But Vincent was more worried about Megan than her…or Gerard.
Weldon whirled out of Gerard’s reach again. Amber stepped closer, syringe raised. A hand grabbed her wrist, jerking her back. The musty stench of mildew teased her nostrils as strong, bony fingers held her wrist in a vice-like grip. Turning her head, she faced her attacker.
“Surratt.”