I hissed when I felt the prick in my elbow. A moment later, Anastasia said, “Hold this.” She left the needle in place and held a square of gauze over it. Her hands were perfectly steady. I put my fingers on the spot and tried not to move.
She popped out the tube of fresh blood and took it straight to Gemma. “Gemma, here. Drink this.”
She had to hold the tube under her nose a moment before Gemma reacted. Slowly, she shifted, blinked, came to awareness. She gripped Anastasia’s hand, clutching at the tube, and Anastasia guided it to her mouth. Gemma tipped her head back and pulled the tube between her lips, letting the contents pour in. She didn’t even swallow. Just let the blood stream down her throat.
Anastasia drew the empty tube away, and Gemma sat, head tipped back, hands covering her mouth. Some color came back; she went from looking corpselike to merely pale. I could almost see energy returning to her as she straightened, her muscles tensed, and she came back to life.
Then she let out a sob. “Ani, he’s gone, he’s gone!”
Anastasia drew her in an embrace. “Shh, I know, I know.” The older vampire held her, curled in her arms, like a mother with her child. Gemma cried, but they were dry sobs, shedding no tears.
I kept holding the needle in my vein and waited.
After a minute, Anastasia pulled away and held Gemma’s face to look at her. “We must be strong. He would want us to fight, yes?” Gemma nodded but still looked forlorn. She watched as Anastasia returned to me and drew a second vial, staring at the blood spilling into the tube.
This one Anastasia drank quickly and without drama. Discreetly, she withdrew and capped the needle, wrapped up the equipment for disposal, and put it in a small vinyl pouch. It was all very clinical. Made it easier for me. Which might have been the point.
“That’s all we need for now,” Anastasia said. “You need your strength, as well. But I may ask for more later.”
I rubbed my elbow; the needle-sized hole in my arm was already healed.
I was still sitting there when Ariel brought me a glass of warm orange juice and a couple of cookies. “When people give blood they’re supposed to drink a lot of fluids, right?” She shrugged, looking sheepish.
“Thanks,” I said.
“So,” Anastasia said, standing at one end of the room, arms crossed, and gazing across it. Grant regarded her from the other side of the room. I couldn’t help but think: the two most powerful people here were facing off. “Now that that’s taken care of, do we have a plan?”
No one answered.
I stared at the picture window and to the big bad world outside, where someone was waiting to kill us. The first response was always: turn Wolf and run. But the hunter was waiting and had silver. Had to use brains, not instinct. The brain clicked.
I knew someone who would know exactly how to get out of this situation. Not that I could call him. Not that he could come and help even if I could call him.
So I had to figure out how to think like Cormac.
Chapter 14
The first time I met Cormac Bennett he wanted to kill me, because that was what he did. He hunted monsters. I talked him out of it, and ever since then our friendship had the undertone of an ironic running joke. He’d introduced me to Ben, who was his cousin, and who I ended up marrying. Cormac had saved my life. He represented possibilities. Roads not taken. But that was another story.
He also gave me access to a perspective, to a way of thinking, that I otherwise never would have had experience with. I hunted under duress because I was a werewolf, and I limited myself to far wilderness where I wouldn’t hurt anyone. But people like Cormac, who did it on purpose, who made it a profession, who honed their skills—
That was the kind of person who was after us now.
I found myself asking, what would Cormac do? If it were Cormac out there, what could I expect? If I could call Cormac for help, what would he say?
The funny thing? I could hear the answer.
The hunter would try to draw us out. He’d try to separate us. Right now, we were a pack with our own territory, and we had a defensive advantage. Hunting other predators is different than hunting prey, Cormac said. We were predators.
If it were Cormac out there and he’d had time to prepare, he’d have trapped the house. He wouldn’t give us an escape route. He’d have studied us, he’d know our weaknesses. He’d use silver on the lycanthropes, stakes and sunlight on the vampires. He’d have a plan for each one of us.
We just had to figure out what those plans were, and how to turn them around. Use them against him. And even more importantly, we had to figure out how to get back in contact with the outside world. Get the power working, find a phone, call in the cavalry.
Our hunter had had time to prepare. We hadn’t. We’d have to move fast if we were going to make up the difference.
I turned from the window. Everyone was doing something different, all of them stuck in their own worlds. Jeffrey and Tina were on one sofa; Jeffrey looked like he was meditating, Tina was tapping a pen on a piece of paper but not writing. On the other sofa, Anastasia was still comforting Gemma, who through her grief was showing her youth, her inexperience as a vampire. She might never have lost anyone she loved before. Ariel was pacing, wringing her hands. Lee was on a chair, drinking a beer. Grant was staring at the window, searching the darkness, like me.
We were sitting ducks, waiting to be picked off. We all knew better than that.
“I think we should post a watch,”
