there is a refrigerator. When I open it, I find the blood bags. I grab several and race back to Zack.
He’s moved in again. This time instead of trying to grab Isabella, he goes for the coffin. Its silver lining burns his hands. He pulls away with a hiss, shaking them both. Then his expression turns resolute and he grabs the side using only his left. I smell his flesh burn, watch as smoke curls up between his fingers.
“Zack!”
Sweat beads on his forehead. He grits his teeth and growls in rage, not backing down. Before I can reach him to help, the coffin tips. Zack is pinned beneath it along with Pierce and Isabella. I catch a glimpse of his blistered hand as I move to help lift the coffin. I needn’t have bothered. Isabella, now stronger from the blood, arches her back and throws it off, then turns her rage on Zack.
With lightning-fast reflexes he’s on his feet, poised and ready. Isabella rushes toward him, pushing him through the open door, out into the lab, and they fall to the floor.
I lower the shields and try to get into Isabella’s mind—to plant a calming seed. But she’s too far gone to listen to rational thought. Half mad from silver poisoning, her mind is broken. She’s capable only of acting on instinct, acting to ease the pain of starvation and to fight for survival.
She’s forgotten Pierce now, turning her snapping jaws to Zack. Even with Zack’s damaged hand, he’s able to fend off her attacks, holding her at arm’s length. Under normal circumstances, a Were would be no match for a vampire’s strength. But Zack is powerful and Isabella is young, weak, and her need to feed is paramount.
I grab a scalpel from a nearby tray and slice open one of the bag’s ports. At the smell of blood, Isabella whirls toward me. I hold it out and she snatches it from my hands, latching on to it like a babe sucking at its mother’s breast. By the time she’s finished with the first, I have another open and ready for her. “Get more, Zack,” I yell.
When Isabella accepts the blood, there’s the dawning of recognition and wonder in her eyes. I catch a glimpse of myself in the window and am reminded that the shields are still down. I glance around for Zack. His back is to me, heading into the laboratory. I realize this may be my only chance to get into her head.
“Isabella, listen to me. We’re here to help you, but you have to trust us. We’re friends of Michael’s.”
“Michael?”
“He’s never given up on you.” I hand her the third blood bag. “Cooperate with us.”
Zack is coming back toward us, a handful of blood bags and a clean white sheet in his hands. I pull up the shields, wait for him to join us. Isabella is still looking at me, a puzzled frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. But she says nothing, accepting the sheet Zack holds out to her.
She wraps the sheet around her nude body.
“Trust us,” Zack says, offering her another blood bag. “We’ll get you home. Safe and sound.”
He goes to Pierce, lying still under Isabella’s coffin, blood pooling beneath her head. He feels for a pulse, looks up at me, shakes his head.
I sigh and look around the room. The five remaining coffins are closed. While Zack stays with Isabella, I open them, one by one, throwing off the silver blankets that cover the vampires trapped inside and pulling needles from arms, stopping the flow of anesthesia rendering them immobile.
Only one opens his eyes immediately upon being freed.
Evan.
CHAPTER 21
Evan sits up in the coffin, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. He looks at me, narrows his eyes, and growls. “Emma? What are you doing here? What am
Questions fired machine-gun-style, not pausing for reply or comment. Eyes now burrowing into my skull.
“It’s a long story.”
“Emma.” Zack has pulled another sheet off the shelf and he tosses it to me.
I hold it up and Evan climbs out of the coffin, still glaring at me. Once on his own two feet, he folds the sheet in two, then wraps it around his waist like a towel. He turns back to examine the tomb that held him prisoner, fingering the plastic coil and then yanking it from the canister. Where a drop of liquid touches his skin, a blister erupts. He peers at it. “Silver.”
He glares at me. “What happened?”
“You were kidnapped.”
Alarm darkens Evan’s face as if he’s searching for the meaning of my words, searching for some memory of how he got here, searching for the clue that will snap the pieces of the puzzle together. He moves to peer into the coffins on either side of the one that held him. The vampires inside haven’t opened their eyes. Two men, their skin wrinkled and black, lie in a dark, viscous fluid that weeps from scars like Isabella’s. It pools at the bottom of the coffin. The smell is acrid and tinged with decay.
When I join him, Evan’s head is bowed. “They’ve been exposed too long.” He says it softly and matter-of- factly. “Look at their skin. The silver poisoning is bone deep. Even if we could revive them, they would remain mad. We can’t bring them back.”
“You’ve seen this kind of thing before?” I ask. My memory slips back to a terrible period when the Inquisition ran rampant and torture became an art.
He nods. “Wrapping a vampire in silver was a favorite torment during the Middle Ages.”
“Middle Ages?” Zack has joined us, catching Evan’s last remark. “How old are you?”
Evan ignores the question, his eyes searching the room.
I can guess what he’s looking for. What he intends to do. What he must do.
There is a small desk in the back of the room with a wooden folding chair beside it. He crosses the room with quick strides, sweeps up the chair, and smashes it against the floor. He lifts a leg of the chair, broken off at the base and splintered into a sharp point.
Then he’s back at the coffins. With no hesitation, he drives the stake through the hearts of the two vampires. First one, then the other. There is a long sigh from each, like a release of both breath and life. A cloud rises as their bodies disintegrate and then they are gone. Only a fine red ash remains, coating the bottom of the caskets, coagulating in the fluid like a grisly scab.
Evan remains motionless for a moment, his eyes closed, his shoulders slumped.
Pierce may have thought vampires were inhuman, but this is a most human reaction. The reaction of having taken life . . . of coming face-to-face with the finality of real death.
Evan straightens and turns to look at me again. “How long have I been gone?”
“About two days.”
He grimaces. “Liz must be frantic. I need to call her.”
I hand him my cell and step away to allow him a moment of privacy. Zack has moved to the next coffin and freed Amy. I can’t help smiling. Although she’s weak, she’s able to stand on her own. She’s safe. Our case solved.
Evan rejoins me, hands me back my cell with a smile of thanks. “I’ve got to get home. Preferably with my clothes.” He glances around again. “Then I’m going to have a lot of questions.”
Zack has offered Amy a blood bag. Now he turns to Evan. “Do you need blood?”
He shakes his head. “I can wait.”
Isabella had been quietly listening to the exchange between Evan and me. Now she’s turned her attention to the bag in Zack’s hand. Minutes ago she would have killed for blood. I glance over at Pierce’s body, battered and broken. She did kill for it. Now that she’s fed, the transformation is astounding. Color and texture have returned to her skin and hair. She looks once again like the picture Dexter gave the police when she went missing. She joins Evan as he beats Zack to the last closed coffin, opens it, and peers inside.
There’s a flick of recognition and something else—a shadow of guilt? Evan says gruffly, “This one’s got to have blood.”
“I’ll get it.” Isabella plucks one from the pile Zack left on a nearby table and opens it.
