“Mass graves are barbaric, Sid,” one of the better-dressed Weres said, causing heads to bob and a soft agreement to rise.
“So is a polluted water supply,” one of the vampires shot back. “That’s where we’re headed if we do nothing.”
“I say we try for Reno,” someone at the table of witches said. “The higher populations are handling this better. We don’t have the resources.”
Loud agreement came from the shadowed back where the vamps had congregated, but the Weres and most of the witches didn’t want to leave. As the arguments grew loud, Sid raised his hand, ignored. Lips pressed, he stood up on a chair. “Listen!” he shouted. “I’m all for Reno, but we can’t leave rotting corpses. It’s not right!” Eyes bright, he waited until it grew quiet. “The way I see it, we can make one common plot for every family. Luke, you know how to work the digger. We can use Phillip’s field. It’s close to town, has that pretty little church across the road. He’s not likely to protest, seeing as he’s down with whatever the hell this is.”
“And who is going to dig my grave?” a Were called out. “We can all see what’s happening. It’s taking out the weakest first. I say we go now, while we can still drive!”
“Who are you calling weak?” a flushed vampire exclaimed, and it started up again. Sid tried to shout them down, but he’d lost control. Shouts rang out and tempers frayed, pulled apart by fear as the threat of plague ran rampant.
Trisk’s pulse pounded. “No!” she called out, but no one heard her. “You’re safe!”
Quen stared at her. “What are you doing?” he whispered, but she couldn’t stay silent.
“You’re not going to die,” she said, standing up at the booth and awkwardly putting her knee on the seat for balance. “Vampires might get the pox since they’re the closest to humans, but they’ll recover. It’s only humans who are so susceptible.”
Silence fell, everyone shocked to stillness as she openly named them. It had likely never been done before, and she suddenly felt exposed, nervous.
“And you know this how?” Sid said as he got off his chair and faced her.
“Ixnay on the objay,” Quen muttered.
People were dying. She couldn’t stop it, but she could help. Even so, a little lie wouldn’t hurt. “My husband works for the government,” she said. “He said the virus only affects humans.”
“Does this look like nothing?” a frightened vampire said as he pushed up his shirtsleeve to show red pustules.
“It’s okay,” she said as everyone but his family moved away from him. “It’s not contagious. It’s a toxic reaction, not a disease.” But then she started, lips closing as Sid approached, his hands aggressively on his hips.
“I saw you on TV,” he said, his eyes on her necklace. “You work at Global Genetics.”
Quen grimaced, his hands clenching on the table. “Way to go, Trisk.”
Flustered, she gripped the double helix to hide it. “Listen. It’s in the tomatoes,” she said, but it was getting noisy. “Don’t eat them, and you won’t get sick. Humans, either.”
“Time to go.” Quen stood. In the back, the vampires had gotten to their feet, murderous expressions on their faces as they found someone to blame for their fear.
“You made the tomatoes. You did this!” Sid shouted, and Quen pushed forward, getting between him and the table so Daniel and Trisk could slide out. “You damn elves think you’re better than everyone!” Sid shouted, eyes bright with zeal as people backed him up. “You’re trying to kill everyone but the elves, aren’t you!”
“No!” Trisk exclaimed when Quen grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door.
“Get them!” came a shout. “If we turn them in, the government might help us.”
“There is no medicine for this,” Trisk said as she jerked out of Quen’s grip. “It’s not supposed to kill anyone. Will you listen? We’re trying to help.”
“Stop them!” Sid shouted, and Trisk gasped when an ugly, strong hand gripped her wrist.
“Hey! Let go!” she said, jolting the man with a flash of ley line energy. He fell back, eyes wide, but it only made things worse. As a mob, they came forward, their fear spilling into action.
“Plan B!” Quen pushed her and Daniel toward the door. “Fire in the hole!” he exclaimed.
Trisk dropped, yanking Daniel to the ground with her. Breath held, she snapped a protection bubble over them. Someone beat on it, once, twice, three times, his face ugly.
And then Quen opened the gates of hell.
“Dilatare!” he shouted, and Trisk cowered at the heavy bang of air slamming everyone toward the walls. It was a white spell, but the quickly expanding bubble of air could do a lot of damage in an enclosed space. People pinwheeled back, tables slid, and plates crashed to the floor as cries of fear rang out. Then it was quiet. Someone said “Ow” and then a moan of pain rose.