“Even the VERM?” I tried to smile, but everything was starting to hurt.
“She thought she wanted to be changed—thought it was a great alternative to her life. She got angry when I wouldn’t do it, when I wouldn’t feed off of her. She smeared blood all over her neck, begged me to change her that night.”
“She told me you bit her. I believed her.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I never gave you reason to think otherwise about me. I knew I should have gotten to Parker sooner. Lucy and I kept fighting, and she started talking about the sword, about all the things that were needed to open the portal—including you. She told me if I didn’t change her that I would be sorry—dead, finally—or sorry. Until she started talking about you, about draining your blood to open the portal, I figured she was just another breather who was convinced she knew how to access the demon world. When I finally realized that she knew what she was talking about, she was already gone. We were both heading to your apartment, but as it turns out, she found you and I found Parker.”
“So you knew Lucy was in on this? Did you know she was in cahoots with the chief?”
Parker stepped up behind Vlad, was silently looking on as Vlad shook his head. “No, not at first—not until I talked to Parker. But I knew she was the one who purchased the Sword of Bethesda.”
I was incredulous. “You did? How? When?”
“It took a while, but I was able to put all the clues together. At first she was questioning me, wanting to know where someone would find the sword. She knew an awful lot about it for—”
“A breather?”
“Yeah. I realized it had to be her. I thought about it, and it all clicked. When you’ve been around as long as I have, you learn to read things about human nature, about primitive desires. I knew Lucy was the one who had the Sword of Bethesda.”
Parker raised an eyebrow, pinning Vlad with a stare.
“And also, she stabbed me with it.”
Parker looked at the ground, smiling.
Vlad rubbed his abdomen. “Kind of ineffectual, but still rather offensive.”
“Oh, Vlad, I’m so sorry.” For the first time I realized that under his black, ankle-length leather duster he was wearing black denim jeans and a
Vlad tried to hold his blank expression steady, but I could see the hint of a smile playing at the edge of his lips. “The irony pleases me.”
Parker bent down next to me, his face drawn with concern. “Okay, enough. We can sort everything out later, and I’ve got a couple of cars headed over to Sampson’s place now. How are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt very badly?”
I swallowed. “I’m okay. Just a little wobbly. I would really just like to get out of here.”
I went to push myself up, but Parker smoothly slid his arms underneath me, cradling me against his chest and picking me up in one motion. “You shouldn’t walk,” he murmured into my hair, “not until we get a medic in to see you.”
Parker carried me up the stairs and out into the cold night air as Vlad followed behind us. People stood on tiptoes behind a police barricade, watching, and squad cars were creating a makeshift perimeter. I craned my neck and realized that we were at City Hall.
“We were under City Hall the whole time?”
“It seems Chief Oliver had a whole setup to go along with his plan of opening up a portal. We’ve been tracking him for over a year.”
“That’s right!” I leaned back as far as I dared from Parker’s smooth, naked chest. “You’re not Parker Hayes! You’re not a detective. Who are you?”
Parker gently set me down on a stretcher in front of one of the ambulances. “She’s been cut,” he told the paramedic. “She needs attention. Sophie, Neils here is going to take care of you.” Parker stepped aside, and Neils —with an Elvis-worthy pompadour and a pair of latex gloves—came at me with an alcohol-soaked gauze strip.
“This might sting a bit,” Neils warned me.
“Wait!” I tried to stamp my foot, to glare at fake Parker, but the bulbous bouffant of the paramedic was in my way. “Who are you?”
My mind raced as Parker stared at me, blank faced, lips drawn.
He was an angel. A liar. Loony toons.
“I’m an FBI agent,” he said finally. “My name is Alex Grace.”
Or he was an FBI agent.
I raised my eyebrows. “Weren’t you a—”
Parker pursed his lips and pressed his finger against them, his eyes sparking that brilliant blue.
“Sophie!” Nina squealed.
I looked up to see her rushing across the parking lot toward me, the moonlight glinting off her pale skin. Her black hair framed her face—eyes wide, brows furrowed, ruby lips held taut. She edged herself in front of Neils and threw her arms around me when she reached me, crushing me against her cold, tiny chest.
“Nina,” I gasped as a whoosh of air went out of me.
“Sorry!” she said, softening her grip. “After what Vlad said about Lucy, I was just so worried about you! You must have been terrified—I could smell you a mile away!”
I sat back, my cheeks burning red. “Because I was scared,” I explained. “She can smell fear.” I was attempting to explain to Parker—er, Agent Grace—and the bewildered Neils when the man standing behind Nina caught my eye.
“Nina?” I asked, still staring at the man behind her.
Nina turned, weaving her arm through his. “Sophie, this is—”
“Officer Franks!” I exclaimed, examining Opie’s smooth, undead complexion, his strawberry-blond hair standing out fiercely red against his now-pale forehead. He grinned at me—that same goofy, toothy smile—and I could see delicate fangs pressing against his lower lip. He tipped his head to look lovingly into Nina’s eyes, and I could see the two tiny puncture wounds on the side of his neck.
“Nina!” I hissed. “You didn’t!”
Vlad glared, put both of his hands on his hips. “I can’t turn anyone, but
I smiled, shared a private look with Vlad while Nina looked sheepish, kicking at the ground with brand-new black leather peep-toe ankle boots. “I know I shouldn’t have, but he had hardly been dead an hour when we found him,” she said, staring up into Opie’s black marble eyes, “and then I just couldn’t resist.” She snuggled close to him. “He’s just so darling!” She inclined her head toward me and whispered, “Isn’t he just luscious?”
Nina turned, her dark eyes settling on Alex’s naked chest. “Speaking of luscious …”
A blush of crimson washed over Alex, and he shrugged back into his flak jacket. He looked from me to Neils, his blue eyes reflecting the dark sky. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She would if she’d hold still,” Neils answered.
“Wait,” I said, edging away from Neils after he smoothed a long white bandage across my wound. “What about Mr. Sampson? Has anyone seen him?”
“Miss,” Neils said, “you need to relax.” He draped an itchy, folded blanket over my shoulders.
“Wait,” I said again, ignoring Neils and staring from Nina to Alex. “Please?”
Alex leaned against the ambulance and raked a hand through his dark, tousled hair. “Sophie …”
I stood up. “He’s okay, though, right? You were able to find him, just to make sure he’s okay?”
Nina looked at the ground, and my heart jumped into my throat, constricting my breath. My eyes started to moisten and itch. “Right?”
“I’m sorry, Sophie. We haven’t found any trace of him,” Alex said.
I looked at Nina. “You?”
She shook her head sadly. “I haven’t been able to trace him. Other than the scent—it got really strong a few minutes before we found you—but then it was gone.
My hand went to the bandage across my chest. “When the chief cut me.”
“Sampson must have had a surge of emotion when he thought you were being”—Nina winced
