chapter Six
Jenna did everything she could to convince herself that Richart was wrong, that it was just a bad case of the flu. Hadn’t Debbie even come down with it? And Jed in Lawn and Garden? Harry in Automotive?
But it was hard to ignore the looks Richart and Dr. Lipton kept exchanging. Looks that said Jenna was screwed.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Jenna,” Dr. Lipton said as Richart lowered her to an exam table. “Richart talks about you all the time.”
“Nice to meet you, too. This is my son, John.”
“Good to meet you, John.”
“Nice to meet you,” he murmured.
“Richart,” Dr. Lipton said, “you and John go wait out in the hallway so your hovering won’t distract me.” She winked at Jenna. “Plus, if Richart isn’t in the room, I can share all kinds of embarrassing stories about him with you.”
Richart narrowed his eyes in warning, then kissed Jenna. “We’ll be right outside if you need us.”
Jenna smiled and nodded.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Dr. Lipton shook her head. “That man is so in love with you.”
“I love him, too.”
Dr. Lipton’s gaze sharpened as she donned a pair of latex gloves. “Enough to transform for him?”
“I thought I couldn’t do that safely.”
“If he’s right and you’ve been infected, you may not have a choice. How many times has he bitten you?” There was no mistaking her disapproval.
“That’s just it. He hasn’t.”
Her brow furrowed. “Ever?”
“Ever. A vampire bit me once a couple of months ago. He caught me leaving my job and Richart stopped him. But Richart has been there every night since and made sure the vampire didn’t return. I can’t be transformed by just one bite, right?”
“Not unless he drained you almost to the point of death, then infused you with his own blood.”
“Richart said he didn’t do that; so it must be the flu.”
Dr. Lipton didn’t seem convinced. “Let’s start with your symptoms.”
Jenna rattled them off and answered questions about severity, onset, and the like as Dr. Lipton took her temperature and engaged in various and assorted poking and prodding.
She was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way with brown hair, brown eyes, and a trim figure encased in jeans, a T-shirt, and a lab coat.
“I’m going to level with you, Jenna,” she said finally. “I think Richart’s right. I’ll run a blood test to be sure, but I already know what it’s going to tell me.”
Jenna broke out in a cold sweat as fear rippled through her. “I’m becoming a vampire?”
“Yes.”
She would suffer progressive brain damage and go insane.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Lipton offered with genuine remorse. “There really isn’t any sugarcoating this. I can’t even give you hope that you might be a gifted one. Nearly all gifted ones have black hair and brown eyes. A few, like me, have brown hair. But never red.”
“I’m a brunette. I dye my hair.”
Dr. Lipton studied her. “Have you noticed any special gifts or abilities? Know the phone is going to ring before it does?”
“No.”
“Know what someone else is feeling? Hear their thoughts?”
“No. I don’t have any special abilities, Dr. Lipton.”
“Melanie.”
“I’m screwed, aren’t I, Melanie?”
She sighed. “Yes. As I said, I’ll run some tests to be sure. See how far the infection has progressed. Take a look at your DNA and see if it bears the extra memo groups that would identify you as a gifted one and protect you from the brain damage. But I’m not very hopeful.”
“I can’t believe this.” Her mind raced as nightmare images unfolded before her. John having to watch his mother descend into madness. Jenna having to leave to ensure she wouldn’t harm him. Richart watching and waiting for her to reach the point of no return, then taking her life.
What would it do to him to watch her turn into one of the monsters he hunted? Would she have to leave him, too?
Richart paced back and forth in front of the door to the infirmary.
John stood nearby, looking up and down the hallway, taking in the multitude of guards armed with automatic weapons. Half a dozen stood sentinel near two doors a little farther down.
Dragging his eyes away, John turned to Richart. “What’s in there? What are they protecting?”
“They aren’t protecting what’s in there. They’re protecting everyone out here. Those doors lead to vampires’ apartments.”
John’s eyes widened. “Vampires live here?”
“A couple do, yes. They surrendered instead of following the example of their brethren and fighting to the death. They’ve been working with Dr. Lipton and the other doctors in hopes of finding a cure for the virus or some treatment that might prevent the brain damage it causes in humans.”
“How’s that going?”
Richart shook his head and lied. “I don’t know.” They had been searching for a cure for thousands of years with no success.
John swallowed. “If Mom becomes a vampire, is she going to go crazy and want to hurt people?”
Richart nodded, throat too thick to speak.
Face grim, John resumed his perusal of the hallway. “What is this place?”
“Network headquarters, the hub of the East Coast division of the human network that aids us.”
“Why are there no windows?”
“Because we’re five stories underground.”
Minutes passed.
“I don’t understand how Mom could be infected if you didn’t bite her.”
“I’ve been thinking on that.” Fulminating over it more like. “It has to be a member of your study group.”
John’s head whipped around. “What?”
“It can’t be anyone at her job. When bitten, she would’ve blacked out and not made it home. She would’ve woken up on the floor in the store’s back room or her car or somewhere she shouldn’t be and realized she’d lost time, that she couldn’t remember how she had gotten there.”
“Wouldn’t the same be true if one of my study partners had bitten her?”
“Not if he did it while she was sleeping. If he came over on a night I wasn’t there and she went to bed early or napped until I finished hunting, he could’ve asked to use your bathroom, snuck into her bedroom, and fed from her without her ever knowing she had been bitten.”
“Shit!”
“I’m guessing you had a study session right before she contracted food poisoning? She always bears your study partners’ scents from brushing shoulders with them and the like. The punctures heal swiftly and the effects of the GHB-like chemical she would’ve been exposed to don’t last long, so I wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss.”
“We thought it was the fast food the group ordered in. . . . Shit! This is my fault?”
“It’s the vampire’s fault. Not yours.”
“How do we figure out who it is?”
“We’ll take care of that after your mother is . . . better.”
After she finished turning. After she became a vampire.
There wasn’t going to be a better for her—not long-term—and Richart felt a part of himself die at the knowledge.
The elevator at the end of the hallway pinged. A moment later, the doors slid apart and a blond male about five foot eleven exited. The guards all greeted him with respect as he strolled toward Richart.
Richart didn’t even try to hide the hostility he felt toward him.
“I hear we have a visitor,” Chris Reordon said.
Richart took a menacing step forward. “Stay the hell away from her, Reordon.”
“What is it with you immortals?” he demanded with a scowl. “You keep trying to hide your mortal girlfriends from me even though you know I’m just trying to protect you. It’s my job.”
“And we all know how ruthless you can be in carrying out your job. I won’t have you strong-arming and intimidating her. And don’t ask Dr. Lipton her name because if you issue a single threat I’ll cast aside concerns about Seth’s wrath and—”
“I don’t have to ask her name. I already know it.”
“What?”
“Jenna McBride. Thirty-seven years old. Widowed mother of John.”
“How do you know that?”
“After you outed yourself, teleporting to her living room—and I can’t tell you what a brilliant move that was—I tagged you with a tracking device and followed you to her apartment. After that, the rest was easy.”
“If you give her even one moment of unease—”
“Ask me why it was so easy.”
Richart frowned. “What?”
“Ask me why the rest was easy.”
“I don’t have to. Everyone knows you’re good at what you do. It’s why you’re the highest ranking mortal on the East Coast.”
Chris smiled. “I am good, aren’t I?”
Richart grunted.
“But I didn’t even have to try with this one, because we already had Jenna on file. She’s a gifted one.”
The world went still.
“She came to our attention during her pregnancy,” Chris went on. “Her boyfriend’s parents insisted on a paternity test to prove John’s father really was his father before the two married. DNA samples were taken from both Jenna and Bobby.”
“And hers was different,” Richart murmured. “More advanced.”
“Much more advanced. Call-in-the-media-it’s-a-f*cking-miracle advanced. Just like yours. We had to run damage control, alter medical records and quite a few memories. We’ve been keeping tabs on her ever since.”
“But she doesn’t have any special abilities.”
“She doesn’t get sick,” John said.
Chris nodded. “Exactly. You’re a gifted one, too, you know.”
John’s eyebrows flew up. “I am?”
Chris nodded. “You guessed something was wrong with your mother before Richart did, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a gifted one in Virginia who is uniquely accurate at diagnosing patients without running any tests. Considering how well you’re doing in school, I’m guessing you’ll be the same. You and your mother are probably descended from healers.”
“How do you know I’m doing well in school?”
“As I said, we keep tabs on all gifted ones who come to our attention, often orchestrating things to keep them close in case another incident should arise.” He looked at Richart. “Don’t tell the other immortals that. If they knew just how many gifted ones we’ve guided to this area, they’d try to turn the network into a dating service. And I can’t do my job with that kind of drama surrounding me.”
Richart’s heart began to pound. Elation flooded him, along with relief so great it practically lifted his feet off the floor. Spinning around, he burst through the door to the infirmary.
Still seated on the exam table, Jenna jumped.
Dr. Lipton smiled. “I heard. Congratulations.”
“Congratulations on what?” Jenna asked, fear and despair battling for dominance in her eyes. Dr. Lipton hadn’t softened her prognosis, and Jenna was clearly doing her damnedest to hold it together.
“You’re a gifted one.” Richart closed the distance between them and swept her into his arms.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “No, I’m not. I can’t be. I don’t have any special abilities.”
“John said you never get sick.”
“I got food poisoning last month.”
“That wasn’t food poisoning. That was the virus beginning to go to work on you.”
“But—”
“Sweetheart”—Richart leaned back and grinned down at her—“you’re a gifted one. This is good news.”
“I just don’t see not-getting-sick as an ability. It isn’t something I do. Not willfully.”
“You’re likely descended from healers,” Richart explained. “Healers have remarkable regenerative capabilities. Remember how swiftly my wounds healed after Sheldon transfused me?”
“Yes.”
“Healers can do that even before their transformation. It’s what enables them to heal others. But the more their DNA has been diluted with ordinary human DNA over the millennia, the weaker their abilities. Were you born a hundred or even fifty years ago, you might have been able to heal with your hands. Instead, your body can fight off any illness to which you’re exposed, save the vampiric virus, and probably recovers from injuries abnormally fast.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I did recover from childbirth quickly. But . . . you’re sure about this? How do you know I’m not just really healthy? Dr. Lipton hasn’t done any blood tests yet.”
He told her about the revelations that had arisen from the paternity test years ago.
Her lips began to tilt up. “So I’m not going to go insane?”
“No.”
She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight, then leaned back. “But I am transforming.”
He glanced at Dr. Lipton.
“You’re transforming,” Dr. Lipton confirmed. “The fact that your body is reacting the way it is tells me that if we try to halt the transformation, you’ll end up with no viable immune system. Your best option at this point is to let us give you a rapid infusion of infected blood to speed and complete the transformation.”
Richart willed her to choose the latter. The only alternative was death.
John, who Richart hadn’t even realized had followed him back into the room, drew in a breath and held it.
“I’ll transform.”
John surged forward and hugged Jenna before Richart could embrace her again.
Richart met Dr. Lipton’s gaze. “Call Roland.”
Raising one eyebrow, she left the infirmary.
Jenna stared up at Richart, who smiled as John’s hug went on and on and on.
“I’m sorry,” John murmured.
“Why?”
“It’s my fault.”
She frowned.
Richart shook his head. “It’s the vampire’s fault.”
“Right,” Jenna said, not sure what her son was thinking. “Besides, I’m going to be immortal. That’s not such a bad thing, right?”
John actually laughed. Straightening, he backed away. “Right.”
Jenna couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around it. She could potentially live forever. Forever young. Forever strong. Perhaps with Richart?
How often had he told her that he loved her? Did forever with her sound good to him?
His smile said it did.
“Does this mean Mom is going to be hunting vampires?” John asked.
Sheesh. She hadn’t even thought of that.
Richart shifted uneasily. “Probably. The way things have been going lately . . . I would be very surprised if Seth didn’t want you to train and fight alongside the rest of us.”
“You don’t look happy about that,” she said, unable to imagine it herself.
“Times are more dangerous than ever. I don’t want you to get hurt. I’ll speak with Seth and obtain permission to train you myself. Perhaps by the time you’re ready we will have eliminated this latest threat.”
“My mom, the vampire hunter,” John said with a grin. “That. Is. Awesome!”
Jenna laughed.
“It pays very well, too,” Dr. Lipton said as she returned. “Roland is on his way.”
“Good.”
“You know you’re going to have a fight on your hands, right?”
“You didn’t tell him why I wanted him to come?”
“No. I just said you needed him. He thinks you’ve been injured.”
Roland, nearly a millennium old, was a powerful healer. And notoriously antisocial when it came to everyone but his wife, Sarah. She alone could coax smiles and laughter from him.
While they waited for Roland to arrive, Richart and Dr. Lipton explained what Jenna could expect from the rest of her transformation. Constant migraines. Intensifying nausea and vomiting. A dangerously high fever. And “the worst freaking toothache of your life,” as Dr. Lipton put it. Richart had forgotten that part. His own transformation had taken place so long ago, he had difficulty remembering the details.
The door slammed open and Roland Warbrook strolled in, Sarah at his side. Both wore the standard hunting garb of immortals and were splattered with blood.
“What happened?” Roland demanded, scowl in place, his usual dour appearance hampered by the fact that he held Sarah’s hand and tenderly stroked the back of it with his thumb.
A foot shorter than Roland, Sarah had no difficulty keeping up with his brisk pace and eyed Richart with concern.
Roland noted Richart’s pristine appearance, took in Jenna, John, and Dr. Lipton, looked again at Jenna, and narrowed his eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, he held it, then glared at Richart. “Oh, hell no. You did not summon me here to transform your girlfriend.”
“First, how did you know she’s my girlfriend?” Richart demanded.
“Almost every time I’ve seen you in recent weeks, you’ve carried her scent.”
Oh. Right. “How did you know I want you to transform her?”
“I can smell the virus on her.”
“Wow,” Jenna said, “you guys really know how to make a girl feel self-conscious.”
Sarah laughed. “It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”
Richart shook his head. “Why couldn’t I smell the virus on her?”
Roland shrugged. “Her gift must dampen it. My senses are sharper than yours and I’m a healer, so what may have escaped your notice, wouldn’t escape mine. The point is moot anyway. I’m not going to change her.”
“You already know my arguments. Younger immortals are always weaker than those who are older. Sarah is far stronger than she should be because you transformed her. I don’t know if it’s because you’re older or a healer, but if you transform Jenna—”
“Not in my job description.”
Sarah stepped forward and offered her hand to Jenna. “While they bicker, let me introduce myself. I’m Sarah Bingham.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I meant Sarah Warbrook. I think this is the first time I’ve introduced myself since we married.”
Jenna grinned. “I remember how weird it was. That’s why I eventually went back to my maiden name. I just never got used to it.”
“I guess it’s going to take me a while, too. The big, gorgeous brooding guy is my husband Roland.”
“Nice to meet you both. I’m Jenna McBride.”
Roland turned a speculative gaze on Jenna. “Did you say McBride?”
“Yes.”
“Originally from Virginia?”
“Yes.”
“Are you by any chance related to Brian Tiernan McBride?”
“My paternal grandfather’s name was Brian McBride, but I don’t remember his middle name.”
Roland studied her a long moment. “I’ll do it.”
Richart gaped. “You will?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “She’s my descendent.”
Sarah’s eyes widened as she turned to gaze up at him. “Sweetie! That’s wonderful!”
Richart stared at him. “Jenna is related to you?”
Jenna started to smile, then noticed the no-doubt horrified expression overtaking Richart’s face. “Is that not a good thing?” she asked hesitantly.
All Richart could say was, “Chier.”
“Exactly.” Roland donned an evil smile. “Make her happy or I’ll kick your arse.”
He could do it, too.
“So.” Roland turned to Jenna. “Are we going to do this now or what?”
She swallowed hard. “Now as in right now?”
Shaking off his dismay, Richart cupped Jenna’s face in his hands. “I know you’re probably nervous.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“But I’ll be right here with you the whole time. Once Roland has infused you with his blood, I’ll take you and John to David’s home. He’s one of our elders and a very powerful healer. More powerful even than Roland, so he can help you through the transformation. Two, three days from now, you’ll be healthier than you’ve ever been. You’ll be stronger. Faster. And you’ll be able to kick my ass if I ever piss you off.”
“Cool,” John put in.
Jenna smiled bravely. “All right. Let’s do this.”
Richart lifted her onto the exam table and, cupping a hand behind her neck, gently eased her back.
Roland approached the other side of the table and took her hand, raising her arm until the bend of her elbow hovered beneath his chin.
Richart took Jenna’s free hand and held it to his chest.
Her nervous gaze went to Roland. “I’m not going to want to jump your bones or anything when you bite me, am I?”
Damned if the taciturn immortal didn’t laugh. “No. You may want to jump Richart’s though, so, John, beware.”
John shifted uneasily. “Is this going to get weird? Like kinky weird? Because—”
“No,” Richart assured him. “At most, Jenna will say things she ordinarily wouldn’t say unless she were drunk. You might want to step outside, though, so she won’t feel embarrassed later.”
“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed Jenna’s cheek. “Love you, Mom.”
She smiled. “I love you, too. Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be okay.”
As soon as John left, Roland bent his head and sank his fangs into Jenna’s arm.
Jenna panted as she slumped back against the pillows. “Immortal sex is the best sex ever,” she proclaimed breathlessly.
Settling beside her, Richart grinned. “Like it, do you?”
She laughed. “Are you kidding? I could do this all day.”
“We have been doing it all day. The sun is setting.”
She glanced at the clock with surprise. “It is?”
A week had passed since her transformation, which had been pretty miserable. Fortunately, she remembered very little of it beyond Richart’s being there for her through it all.
“We’d better get ready.” There was no disguising her reluctance. They had spent one week of pure ecstasy together. No work for her since she quit her job. No hunting for Richart, Seth having given him a few days off to help Jenna adapt to the changes. No stress or strife. Just hours spent in bed or out of bed, making love and talking and learning even more about each other than they had already known.
She hated to see it end, but John had invited his study group over to the apartment tonight and Jenna intended to capture the vampire who had infected her.
Her stomach gave a nervous flutter.
She had never physically fought anyone before . . . aside from the night Richart had rescued her from the vampires, but she didn’t remember that.
Richart seemed confident that, even with no combat training, she could easily subdue the vampire if he did as hoped and snuck into her bedroom to feed from her once more. She wouldn’t have even begun to believe such was possible if she hadn’t grown more bold than she had ever been in bed last night and overpowered Richart, holding him down and . . .
“You’re blushing,” Richart drawled with amusement. “What are you thinking?”
“That I’ve never been so . . . aggressive before,” she admitted.
“Lucky me.” He stole a quick kiss.
“You really don’t mind?”
He laughed. “Are you kidding? Just thinking about it makes me hard again.”
Smiling, she sat up and faced him. “But . . . you don’t mind that I’m stronger than you now?” He had been right. She didn’t know if it was because Roland was several hundred years older than Richart or because he was a healer, but his transforming her had left her stronger and faster than Richart.
He sat up beside her and stroked her hair. “No, I want you to be safe. The stronger and faster you are, the better. Your being able to overpower me would only trouble me if you made me do something I didn’t want to do.” He leaned in close and rubbed noses with her. “And everything you did to me, everything you made me do last night, I thoroughly enjoyed.”
She pressed her lips to his. “I love you.”
“And I adore you. Now let’s go kick some vampire ass.”
The biggest impediment they ran into that night ended up being John.
“I appreciate your anger,” Richart told him for the dozenth time, “but you must behave as though you know nothing of the vampire’s nefarious deeds.”
“I don’t understand why we couldn’t just invite the ones I suspect and kick their asses until one confessed.”
Richart sighed. John had narrowed it down to two men he thought were the likeliest candidates, but really it could be any of them. “John, just do as we’ve asked,” he advised. “Behave as you normally would. No scowls or confrontations. And let your mother and me deal with this.”
When John opened his mouth to object . . . again . . . Richart held up a hand. “I know your every instinct tells you to protect your mother, but she can pick you up and toss you through that wall over there with very little effort now.”
John eyed his mother skeptically.
Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Want a demonstration?”
He cracked a smile. “No, ma’am.”
She winked.
“I guess it’s a good thing you couldn’t do that back when I was in high school and broke curfew.”
“I would have been seriously tempted.”
At last, John laughed and relaxed a bit. “Okay. I get it. I’ll stay out of it and let things play out the way you want them to.”
Richart clapped him on the back. “Excellent.” He motioned to the hallway. “Shall we, my love?”
The study group arrived. Jenna did her mother thing, asking if they liked their new classes, offering snacks and drinks, then said she was heading for bed.
Good nights trailed down the hallway after her as she entered her bedroom and swung the door until it was almost, but not quite, closed, leaving a little strip of light to illuminate her path to the bed.
Across the room, a shadow among shadows, Richart winked at her as she drew back the covers, climbed in fully clothed, then tugged them up to her neck. Quiet enfolded them, broken only by the mumbling of chemistry mumbo jumbo in the living room.
Richart’s heartbeat slowed until even Jenna had difficulty detecting it. But his scent lingered.
Won’t he smell you? she had asked, thinking it a dead giveaway, but Richart had shaken his head.
John has mentioned you’re seeing someone. He’ll just assume we slept together earlier and my scent lingers on you.
Why that had made her flush, she didn’t know.
Minutes passed. An hour. Finally someone mentioned using the bathroom and strode up the hallway. A click sounded as light brightened the hallway. The bathroom door closed, darkening it once more.
Footsteps, light enough to escape mortal detection, approached. The bedroom door swung open and closed so swiftly she almost missed it. A tall form approached the bed.
Jenna concentrated on keeping her heartbeat steady, her breath even. Not an easy task. She was nervous as hell.
The vampire leaned down over the bed. His eyes acquired an emerald glow as he drew closer to her. Through her lashes, she saw his lips part, watched his fangs descend. He reached for the covers and drew them down to bare her throat.
Jenna struck. Grabbing the vampire by the throat, she cut off the yelp of surprise he tried to emit, tossed him onto his back on the floor, and held him down.
Eyes wide, he struggled to peel her fingers away and bucked to try to dislodge her as she shoved her knee in his belly and held him down.
Holy crap. It really was easy. The strength and power she wielded was as exhilarating as a drug, eradicating her fear.
Richart stepped up beside her.
The vamp struggled even harder.
Smiling darkly, Richart touched Jenna’s shoulder and took them to a clearing not far from his home.
Jenna released her captive and rose.
The vampire scuttled backward like a crab until several yards separated them. Rising, he rubbed his neck and looked around with wild eyes.
“You’ve just experienced how powerful she is,” Richart warned. “She’ll catch you if you run.”
The vampire blurred as he lunged toward the trees.
Jenna beat him there.
Skidding to a halt, he darted in another direction.
Jenna blocked his way.
“What do you want?” he blurted, expression hostile.
He couldn’t be more than twenty years old, stood about five foot nine or so, and had a lean build.
“The lady has a question for you,” Richart answered. “I, personally, want to draw and quarter you.” He met Jenna’s gaze. “He’s the one who got away the night you were attacked.”
“Bullshit! I didn’t do anything!”
Richart’s face darkened. His eyes shone like spotlights as his lips peeled back in a snarl of rage, displaying his fangs. “You infected her!” he roared.
Jenna’s eyes widened. Richart was pissed!
“You knew her from John’s study group and led your vampire friends to her, knowing they would kill her. When that didn’t pan out, you fed from her while she slept! You preyed upon her when she was most vulnerable after she welcomed you into her home!”
The vampire backed away. “F*ck you!”
Jenna stepped forward. “Is that all you did?”
“What?”
“Is that all you did to me when you crept into my room and fed from me?”
Richart took a step toward him. “Answer the question. Did you touch her while you fed from her? After you fed from her?”
Jenna had been tormented by the knowledge that he might have.
“F*ck no!” the vamp nearly shouted. “She’s old enough to be my mother!”
Well, damn. He made it sound like he was afraid she’d give him the clap or something.
Richart took another menacing step forward.
The vampire skittered to the side, farther away from him. “Wait. You’re the Immortal Guardian who rescued her!” He drew a knife and settled into a crouch.
Jenna drew the pair of daggers Richart had given her earlier.
Richart drew his own. “Express a little remorse and I’ll consider letting you live.”
“Bullshit.”
“Some of your brethren have already joined us. You can, too, if you regret harming her.”
“Eat shit!” Darting to the side, the vampire swept past Richart and attacked Jenna.
Heart stopping, Jenna raised her daggers and fended off his every blow. The vampire seemed as untrained in battle as she was, swinging wildly with the desperate fury of a child taunted too many times by a bully, but hatred soon stole into his twisted features as a mad glint entered his eyes.
She deflected his blade with her own. His fist she blocked and countered with her own, fingers still curled around the hilts of her weapons, until . . .
A miscalculation.
One of her blades slid across his throat.
Warm blood slapped her in the face as the vampire stumbled backward, his gray shirt turning crimson.
Horrified, Jenna took a step toward him.
He sank to the ground.
Richart appeared at her side and took her arm to prevent her from continuing forward.
Sure enough, the vamp swung his blade again and again until he couldn’t anymore.
Jenna looked up at Richart. “It was an accident.”
“It was inevitable,” he said softly. Withdrawing a handkerchief, he wiped her face with care. “You saw it—the madness that entered his eyes as you fought?”
She nodded.
“The brain damage was progressing more swiftly in him. Had we let him live, simply feeding from his victims would not have satisfied him much longer. He would have tortured them, killed them, and seen nothing wrong with it just as he saw nothing wrong with preying upon you or allowing his friends to kill you, as they would have had I not intervened.”
Jenna’s gaze went to the vampire, who stopped breathing and began to shrivel up like a mummy as the virus he housed devoured him from the inside out. “This is what it’s like? This is what you do?”
“Yes. I know it seems brutal, but we save lives, Jenna. You saved lives. And you kept him from becoming a monster. Even good men become fiends once the madness seizes them. Most, when lucid, would much prefer the end you just delivered to harming others.”
Dropping the daggers, she leaned into him. “I don’t know if I can get used to this.”
“I won’t lie. It’s difficult. But once you see what they do to their victims, it will become a little easier.” He cupped her face in his hands, urging her to look up at him. “And I will be with you all the way.” He smoothed his thumbs across her cheeks. “I’ll be with you always, if you’ll let me.”
She summoned a smile. “Always sounds good.”
He lowered his lips to hers for a slow kiss. “Let’s go show John you’re okay. You can tell the study group the vamp has become ill and is still in the bathroom, then send them home.”
When she nodded, Richart wrapped his arms around her and the world dissolved.