Adianna flinched at the accusation; her nails bit crescents into her left palm as she clenched her hand into a fist. “How do you intend to help her?” she asked, but she knew the answer.
“I took her blood, and possibly her life,” Christopher said. “It’s only right if I give her mine.” The meaning was clear. He meant to change her, to make her into one of the creatures that Sarah had spent her whole life hunting. Christopher must have seen some sign of revulsion in Adianna’s face because he added, “She would be alive.”
“She would be a . . .”
“Yes, she would be a vampire,” Christopher snapped. “But she would be
Adianna could not agree. To allow her own sister to be turned into one of their kind would be worse than letting her die.
Before Adianna could raise the protest, Christopher calmed his voice and added, “If she wakes up and doesn’t want it, Sarah is strong enough to fall on the knife. At least this way she
Adianna choked on her own argument, and turned away from Christopher and Sarah. “Do what you have to do.” Her voice broke on the words.
She stepped aside, but could not force her gaze away. Her resolve almost broke as the leech bared Sarah’s throat; she leaned back against the wall and sank to the floor.
She stood, and turned her back on the pair. One step, two. She was almost at the door when, like Orpheus, she had to take one last glance—just in time to see Christopher draw his knife across his own skin, and to see Sarah latch on to the new wound like a suckling child.
Adianna lost control, and sprinted the rest of the way to her car. Twenty minutes later she convinced herself to slow down when she found herself pushing ninety-five on the highway; no matter how far or how fast she traveled, Adianna knew she would never outrun that last image.
From this night on, whether she chose to live as a vampire or kill herself, Sarah was as good as dead. Adianna prayed she would never see her sister again.
CHAPTER 29
AT SUNSET, Kristopher still sat by Sarah’s side, waiting anxiously for her to stir.
Had he been too late? He cursed himself for wasting time arguing with the hunter, but he doubted that Sarah would have forgiven him if he had hurt Adianna. His system still hummed with the power of Sarah’s witch blood, and if he had fought the hunter he probably would have killed her out of reflex.
His brother was pacing in the back of the room, his power crackling around him like a net of sparks, and as always Kristopher could feel the connection between them. Nikolas had a right to be there; they were in his house. It had been the only location that Kristopher had trusted to be safe enough.
A less intrusive presence, Nissa waited calmly in one of the other chairs. He wasn’t sure why his sister was there—maybe to diffuse the situation if Sarah woke up hating him.
He brushed a long black hair from his face, the only movement he had made in almost twenty minutes, and glanced briefly at the abstract black-and-white clock on the wall. The sun should have set by now. She should have awakened.
Finally, Sarah moaned lightly, and Christopher’s guilt came around to hit him again as he heard the pain in her tone. He knew that a newborn vampire, before she had ever hunted, was wracked by bloodlust so strong it could drive reason completely from the mind. Without killing, it was almost impossible to sate that hunger.
Sarah moaned again and sat up slowly, blinking to clear her vision. They all knew her mind was foggy. Her memory might not even return until after she fed. Kristopher and Nikolas both reached to help her up.
Sarah could barely stand on her own, and she leaned on Kristopher as he held her. “I need to bring her someplace she can feed safely,” he told his sister. Once Sarah had fed she would probably hate him. Worse, she might put her own knife through her heart.
Nissa stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let her kill anyone, Kristopher.”
Nikolas laughed, and Nissa flinched at the cutting tone. “That’s impossible, Nissa. She’s a new fledgling, and her change wasn’t nearly as easy as yours was—if she doesn’t take a life, she won’t be able to sate the bloodlust, and you well know it.”
“She’s a Daughter of Vida. She won’t take a human life,” Nissa argued.
Nikolas looked at Sarah doubtfully as Kristopher gently smoothed a hand down her silky hair, trying to comfort her as much as he could while his siblings argued.
“I’ll take her,” Nissa said, her voice strong. “There are people I know at Single Earth who will be willing.”
Kristopher mirrored his brother’s expression, doubtful. “Not willing to die.” Like his sister, Kristopher had gone through the change easily; only Nikolas had woken to the mind-numbing pain that Sarah was going through.
Nikolas and Nissa continued to argue, but Kristopher had already made a decision. Human blood was too weak to sate the bloodlust without a kill. Witch blood would have been best, since it was strong enough to quench the thirst without killing the donor, but every instinct rebelled against bringing Sarah to her kin. The witches answered to Dominique, and Dominique was the last person who could know what had become of her daughter.
There was only one choice left—had always been only one choice. Tilting his head back, he drew Sarah to his own throat.
CHAPTER 30
GODDESS,IT HURT. Fire and glass were being forced through her veins and she could do nothing about it.
Sarah’s instincts took over as Kristopher pulled her to his own throat. Graceful as any predator, she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and sealed her lips over the pulse point. She felt the weight of her own fangs in her mouth, the moment of resistance as they pierced the skin, and then only the rich, warm blood that flowed over her tongue.
Then there was only the sweet, rich taste, and a million images that accompanied it. She was not prepared for the flood of memories and emotions, but she understood that Kristopher could not have blocked her from his mind if he had tried. Not while she was this close, not while his blood flowed past her lips.
Some of the memories were pleasant, some harsh, and as she flickered among them she lost track of her own self.
