Makeda turned slowly, her eyes raking up and down his body.
Lucien knew he looked savage. Pants torn and dirty, no shirt, caked mud covering an upper body marked with the ceremonial tattoos he’d inked in mortal life. His tattoos were why he rarely went without long sleeves.
He made his voice as clinical as possible. “Samples need to be taken as quickly as possible. Even with the body chilled—”
“I took them last night after you left,” she said quietly. “Lucien—”
“You were there to collect samples,” he said. “I apologize if I misunderstood your reason for being in the patient’s room. You were following protocol.”
“That’s not why I was there, and you know it.”
He heard the angry bite in her voice, and the dark part of his mind reveled in it.
“Nevertheless, if samples have been taken, then the body should be disposed of as quickly as possible. It’s still unknown how the virus—”
“Baojia and Natalie are arranging the cremation. Her ashes will be sent to her family priest in Ensenada. Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t care. There was a minor earthquake just north of here last night. I suppose that was a coincidence.”
He paused. “My caring didn’t save her life. The only thing that’s important now is the research. I don’t expect you’ll need time off since you barely knew the patient. Please have your assistant send me a progress report as soon as possible. I’ve been lax on oversight with you, but don’t expect that to continue.”
“Are you really this much of a bastard?”
“Does it matter?” he asked. “We’re colleagues, Dr. Abel. Our focus should be on developing a cure for this virus, not making friends.”
She was upset. Of course she was. No matter how many patients he lost, he still felt them. And she’d had only a fraction of his life. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shone. Part of him wanted to walk over, put his arms around her, and take comfort in her warmth. She tempted him on every level. Her mind. Her body. Her softness and her arrogance. The scent of her blood called to him.
But she was human. She was mortal. She would die like all the rest, and his heart…
That ancient organ could only take so much.
Rada’s emaciated form filled his memory. The memory of her words haunted him. Please, Lucien. Please, end this for me. I hurt so much. Please, my love…
“I expect a progress report on my desk tomorrow night,” Lucien said. “Please attach any relevant data to the report.”
“So you are this much of a bastard,” she muttered. “Fine. I’ll get the report to you when I have the time. I’ll remind you that I do not work for you. I’m cataloguing the samples, and then I’m going to Baojia and Natalie’s for a drink. I should probably invite you, but I really don’t want you there.”
“I have things to do and no time for socializing.”
“Good for you, Dr. Thrax.”
He turned and walked out the door, heading to his office and the monkish personal quarters behind it. He showered. He dressed.
Then he got back to work.
CHAPTER SIX
Two months after Carmen’s death, Makeda took her first night off since she’d started her own line of inquiry into the Elixir virus. She was listening to a new musician from Mali while she drank wine and grated carrots.
Her months in California had become a blur. She’d come to some of the same conclusions as Lucien in that time. The Elixir didn’t introduce a virus, but something about the ancient alchemical formula unlocked one in human blood. That virus could then be transmitted to vampires. She’d checked and double-checked her conclusions based on new blood samples coming in from Ireland, but she continued to be stumped by how it affected immortals when they were immune to every other virus she could think of.
She was smart enough to realize she didn’t know enough about vampire biology, but the one colleague she wanted to ask had become a ghost in his own lab. Lucien had isolated himself in his wing and rarely came out, sending Ruben or one of his other associates out with reports that seemed to indicate he was fixated on origin instead of treatment.
Makeda was losing patience. His staff was losing patience. Even Baojia and Natalie were starting to get short with him. Makeda heard Baojia mutter about sending Lucien back to his mother for a time-out.
She’d laughed. Then she’d grimaced.
Makeda needed his help. There were aspects of immortal biology she simply wasn’t familiar with. Things she knew Lucien would be able to illuminate. If they actually succeeded in collaborating, she knew the results could be groundbreaking, but the stubborn man had become a hermit, and he was fanatically territorial over his research.
An early winter storm had rolled in suddenly that night. She stared out the window at the pouring rain as she let her mind wander. Inevitably it wandered back to her ongoing research on thalassemia.
In retrospect, that genetic disorder looked so simple. It wasn’t as if her human patients on that trial were dealing with an unknown virus that caused their blood cells to mutate. In thalassemia, the cause of the disease was all about the genes. Genes could be mapped. Viruses however, while utterly simple particles at first glance, shouldn’t be able to alter vampire and human blood to the point that…
Wait.
Makeda’s hands stopped. Her eyes glazed over as she tracked the droplets of water running down the window. Tiny droplets flowing into other droplets, forming tributaries that dropped water to the earth. Moisture filtering through the ground. Flowing along paths leading back to the massive expanse of the sea that was the source of all water.
The source of all life.
The source.
It all filtered back to the source.
She stopped breathing as the intricate pattern of thoughts wove into a tapestry. She froze and became utterly conscious of her own body, of the coursing blood in her system pumped from her heart, through the lungs, carrying vital nutrients through the arteries, the delicate arterioles, the tiny capillaries that fed each cell. Then the steady flow of oxygen-starved blood making its return journey through the veins. An endless system of red cells fed and renewed…
By the source.
Makeda gripped the edge of the counter. It was only a theory. A theory whose foundations were still being debated by human researchers. But Makeda knew she was right.
“I know how the virus lives,” she whispered.
And if she knew how it lived, then maybe—just maybe—she and Lucien could figure out how to make it die.
Dropping everything and turning off the stove, she reached for her phone. It was nearly ten at night; she knew he’d be awake. She tapped Lucien’s name and waited for his office phone to ring. If he wasn’t at his desk, then at least one of his assistants—
“Lucien Thrax.”
She let out a relieved breath when he answered. “Lucien, I think I’ve had a breakthrough.”
A long pause on the other end. “Fine. I’ll pass you to Tara and she can—”
“Did you understand what I said?” Her anger spiked. “I am telling you, I’ve made a breakthrough. I know how the virus is replicating. How it’s able to affect immortal blood. I mean, I think I do. I need your help to understand…” She sighed, frustrated. “I need your help, okay?”
Another long pause. “If that’s the case, then Ruben will be able to—”
“I don’t want to talk to your damn assistant, Lucien! Not even the vampire one. I need to speak to you. I know we barely tolerate each other, but if you can’t hear me out on this, then stop pretending you’re a scientist interested in the truth.”
His voice when it came back was acid. “If you have something to share, drive out here and speak to me in person. I am busy.”
The line went silent, and Makeda threw her phone on the couch, where it buried itself between the colorful cushions her sister had made to remind her of home.
“L
ucien, you are an utter and complete jackass!” A knock at the door. Makeda strode over and threw it open. “What?”
Philip stood with his hand raised, eyes wide, and mouth gaping. “S-sorry?”
She tried to get ahold of her temper. “Philip. No. I’m… sorry. I’m pissed off at a work colleague and he just hung up on me. Is there…” She took a breath. “Hi. Why are you here?”
He held up a bottle of wine. “I finished a project. Kind of in the mood to celebrate and I saw your light, so I figured you might want to share this with me.” He held up a hand. “But that’s okay. I mean, I don’t want to intrude if it’s not a good time.”
She had tugged at her hair until it stood up under her hands. She probably looked like a mad scientist in the horror stories. “I’m sorry, but I think I need to drive out to the lab.”
Philip turned his head with a frown, looking at the deluge. “In this? You can’t be serious. It’s pouring. And those roads going north are—”
“I know. I know. But I think I finally have a handle on the root of the problem I’ve been working on, and I just need… I need to get it down. Talk it out, you know? Hash it out with this guy because he’s got the other half of the puzzle, if that makes sense.” She let out a frustrated breath and looked down at the pajama pants she was wearing. “And I probably don’t need to go out to the lab looking like this.”
“Here.” Philip took a step inside the door and set the wine down on the entry table before he put his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll save the wine for later. If you have to go, go. But why don’t you borrow my car? It’s four-wheel drive. It’ll be a lot easier to navigate that mud if you’re determined to go. No way is your hybrid going to make it out to the cliffs.”
She looked over his shoulder. Philip was probably right. Her little car would get stuck on the muddy gravel road, but the Wrangler he took off-roading would be fine. “Are you sure?”
“Totally sure. I’m not going anywhere tomorrow anyway. You go get ready and I’ll put the top on the Jeep, make you a cup of coffee. Just head across the street when you’re ready.”
Helpful smile. Sweet man. Why couldn’t she be tempted by her generous neighbor instead of the irascible vampire?
Wait. Not that she was tempted by… No. That was ridiculous. Lucien just made her blood boil because he was an incredible and brilliant jackass.
“Thanks, Philip.” She patted his arm. “I… Thanks. I’ll take the offer and owe you a bottle of wine. Let me get dressed and I’ll be right over.”
He glanced over her shoulder. “Stove off? I can smell you were cooking something.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Thanks. I’m so distracted right now.”
“I can tell!” He grinned. “Must be some breakthrough.”
“It is. I think—I’m pretty sure—it’s the breakthrough, you know?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “That’s fantastic!”
❖
Taking the old Jeep was a good choice, Makeda thought as she bumped along the gravel road leading toward the lab. Even though it was a manual transmission, which she wasn’t overly comfortable with, just the weight of the vehicle was helping keep her on the road. It was a few miles out of town before she turned off on the cliff road and immediately felt the buffet of wind hit her sideways. She climbed the hill leading from the highway and carefully took the turns, downshifting as she crawled along the muddy road.
Jackass.
She didn’t need to be out in this weather. Lucien could have talked it over with her on the phone. Sure, they avoided using the phones for sensitive information, but the reality was, even if someone was listening in, approximately 0.001 percent of the population—human or immortal—would have understood the conversation to begin with.
“Whoa.” She downshifted and jerked the car to avoid a deep pothole. “Stop thinking about the stubborn vampire, Makeda.”
Honestly, would it have killed him to just bend a little? And yes, she found his focus somewhat attractive. She couldn’t deny that. She’d always been drawn to genius of any kind, and Lucien’s was a burning fire kind of genius. His passion for the human body and its intricacies was akin to that of an artist. She’d once overheard him dictate analysis on a blood sample to an assistant with the same tone as a poet describing a lover’s body. The young assistant had been flushed when she left his office, and Makeda couldn’t blame her.
Passion was sexy. Focus was attractive. And in her most exhausted hours, she’d allowed her mind to wander to what that focus would feel like if it ever turned her direction. Lucien was an attractive man, and she was only human.
But her feelings were contrary to reality. Most of what Lucien projected toward Makeda was irritation, disinterest, and at best, a grudging tolerance.
Lightning cracked the sky as she crested the hill separating the lab from the main road. She downshifted and applied the brakes, careful not to let the Jeep gain momentum on the slick road. It twisted between the oaks and cedars, the gravel worn away in some spots by the downpour.
A deer jumped from the bushes, but she overrode her instinct and kept the Jeep straight, knowing that swerving could mean her death in these kinds of conditions. Luckily, the animal darted away from the car and into the bushes on the other side before she reached it.
“Stupid Bambi,” she muttered.
She moved her hand to the stick shift and pressed down on the clutch, ready to downshift as the slope increased. She nudged the wheel to the left as the road twisted into a curve—
The steering wheel didn’t budge.
She lifted both hands, attempted to wrench the car back on the road.
Nothing.
Her pulse increased as the oak trees in front of her grew larger. The car was slipping and sliding down the hill. She braked too hard, and the rear of the vehicle fishtailed to the left. Then Makeda was sliding sideways down the hill, mud and rock flying up and slapping the side of the car. There was no time to think. No time to react.
The Jeep rolled.
Something crashed.
Everything went dark.
❖
“Makeda!”
His face swam in and out of Makeda’s vision. Not him. He couldn’t be the last thing she saw.
Not him.
Chipped-granite eyes in a coldly handsome face. Hard eyes. Hard face. Planed and ancient like the earth he controlled. Old eyes. Young face. His shaggy, rain-soaked hair dripped water onto her lips. She closed them as another stab of pain hit her chest.
“Dr. Abel,” he said, “stay awake. Emergency services are on the way.”
Images swam to the surface of Makeda’s mind. Her mother laughing in the kitchen and her father behind his desk. The sun setting over the ocean near their home on the Puget Sound. She could hear the crashing water that reached the cliffs in this place she loved and hated.
Love and hate.
Like two beings struggling beneath her skin.
Always always always.
Torn in two. Something in her was so torn.
“Makeda!” He slapped her, and she took a sharp breath.
The quick inhalation hurt so badly she felt the tears come. They wet her cheeks like the mist rolling off the ocean. She could hear it. Hear the tide going out.
No. No, she was too far. Too far from the sea.
Wasn’t she?
Her heart. It pulsed in her ears, surging, then falling off. Waves receding.
“Makeda, stay awake.”
Tired. Hurts.
“I know it hurts.” Another slap. Harder this time. “Stay awake, dammit!”
Not him. She didn’t want to see him. She was dying, and it was his fault. Makeda felt him bend over, put his mouth at her ear, his breath cold because he couldn’t be bothered to heat it. Couldn’t be bothered with even a semblance of humanity to comfort her. She wanted her mother. Her sisters. She wanted home.
“Yene konjo,” he whispered, “you may hate me, but I will not let you die.”
&n
bsp; Unbidden, old images came to her, aching scenes from her childhood. Mountains rising above the mist, sweeping ranges covered by a blanket of green. Raw beauty covered by dense clouds and a sky pregnant with rain.
Rain.
She felt it falling on her cheeks. Her forehead. Her lips.
Another slap to her cheek, but Makeda decided not to breathe. Not this time.
It hurt too much.
Everything hurt…
“Makeda!”
❖
She dreamt of drowning. But when she opened her mouth, it was to drink the sea that surrounded her. She drank and drank and she was not full. She swallowed the ocean, but it did not quench her thirst.
She dreamt of floating, but when she opened her eyes, it was to see the moon through a veil of water. Blood and salt. A warm thread slipped past her lips, down her throat.
She was filled with it.
Her skin was freezing, but a fire burned in her veins. Her heart slowed. Stilled. But the fire still raged. It raced through her blood.
Tiny droplets flowing into other droplets, forming tributaries that dropped water to the earth… Flowing along paths leading back to the massive expanse of the sea that was the source of all water.
The source of all life.
The source.
It all filtered back to the source.
The fire pumped from her heart, through her lungs, stealing her breath before it crept through her arteries, the delicate arterioles, the tiny capillaries that fed each cell. The fire churned through her veins, an endless system of cells fed and renewed…
Blood.
The source of all things.
The elemental energy filled her mouth as she drank. The space and matter of it. Liquid fire. It filled her mouth. Transformed her mind. Newly woken synapses latched onto the thought, dissected it, and came to their conclusion even as her body lay unmoving.
Vampire.
They had made her vampire.
❖