Page 55 of Land of Shadow

“No.” He looks around thoughtfully. “But that elderly man who brought you the soup. I might be doing him a favor by bleeding him dry, don’t you think?” He smiles, his fangs suddenly terrifyingly long and sharp. It changes his entire face. From something stonily handsome to something feral, an animal who lives for the kill. Have they been there all along somehow?

The fear I should feel is dulled by what I already know. He’s a killer, remorseless. I want to believe he’s bluffing, that he’d never hurt Gene. But I know he isn’t. I know, just like I know that my life means nothing to them if I don’t find the cure. I’d been lulled into believing he was a man, someone different and apart but also familiar. He’s not. He never was.

“Now eat and rest. I expect you in the lab first thing in the morning.” He turns and prowls away, his long strides effortlessly graceful. “And don’t think I won’t know if you don’t show up. I will. If you aren’t there, I’ll come for you.” He pauses at the door. “Understand?”

I grab the tray and put it back in my lap, my hands surprisingly steady. “I really fucking hate you.”

He turns, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. “Good.”

17

Another week, another vial of blood that reveals nothing except additional mysteries. This sample has the same oddities as the others with the added twist of unknown antibodies. It’s the first we’ve seen in any of the plasmas we’ve collected, but it’ll take time before we can discover what they are precisely.

Gretchen and I have begun mixing healthy blood samples with the vampire cells. I thought there might be some real fireworks, some sort of magical interaction. There isn’t. The cells simply coexist together, then degrade together, though the vampire cells die at a faster rate. There’s nothing there. Wyatt did an experiment in the high containment lab with a viral culture and a direct drop of the vampire blood. Nothing there, either. Of course, I didn’t think a blunt mixing of cells was going to achieve a cure, but it was worth a try. There’s more to it. Something we aren’t realizing. It’s like a word on the tip of your tongue or a great thought you have before you fall asleep that you can’t remember in the morning.

I focus on the work. I can’t let my mind wander. It’s too dangerous, too crippling. I haven’t seen Juno, haven’t heard a word from anyone at the White House. The only proof I have she’s alive are her news conferences. The blood resort in LA opened, and there she was on the screen, encouraging everyone to volunteer. I’m sure no one noticed the dullness in her eyes or the forced smile on her lips. Just me, someone who loves her, even if that’s complicated now.

Valen’s presence has been brief and cold each night, as if he loathes me as much as I loathe him. Not possible.

“Here.” Aang hands me half of a chicken salad sandwich.

“Poisoned?” I ask as I take it from him.

He rolls his eyes. “You look even worse than usual, and you skipped lunch. Eat something. You’re making me depressed.”

“Mean,” Evie scolds from her workstation.

They haven’t pried too much since I returned to the lab. I fed them some lies about an unscheduled visit to the White House to explain my absence. That, coupled with me having a ‘cold’ was enough to satisfy them, or at least they’re pretending it was. Wyatt seemed to believe it, but Aang’s eyebrows were at a marked high point during my explanation, and I saw him huddling with the others when they thought I was busy crunching data. They know something happened to me. Something bad. But they’re all smart enough not to push.

I take the sandwich and walk out past the gargoyles. Now that I know they work for Gregor and the vampires, I quicken my pace around them, but I also spare enough time to give them the dirtiest looks in my arsenal. They ignore me just as before.

The atrium is quiet, everyone back in the lab. My Secret Service agent naps on one of the sofas. I could tell him he’s absolute shit at his job, but there’s no point. He can’t protect me from people like Valen. No one can.

I pull a chair around to face one of the windows and plop down. It’s windy out today, another stormfront on the way if I had to guess.

Even with the occasional gust, it’s too quiet in here. I don’t like the quiet anymore, not like I used to. Now when there’s nothing to distract me, my mind wanders to Candice.Georgia. I put the sandwich down, only a few bites missing, and sit back. I try to think of something else, anything else, but it’s no good. I’m right back in that horrible place on the marble floor while Candice bleeds out. Her blood smells like iron, and it sprays in fine droplets at first. Then Gregor’s fangs tear and destroy. More blood. My stomach churns, acid rising in my throat.

“Georgia?”

I jump.

“Sorry.” Gage stands just behind me to my left. “I called your name a few times but …” He shrugs.

“Oh, I was just—I, um.” I stand. “Sorry.” My heart is pounding, my skin clammy. I wipe my hands on my jeans. “Finishing up lunch. Guess I was daydreaming.”

“I do a lot of that when I’m on duty.” He smiles then hurries to add, “But I’m still protecting you when I’m thinking about pina coladas on the beach. Don’t worry.”

He protects me just as well as my Secret Service agent, but there’s no point hurting his feelings by telling him that.

“That sounds nice.” I don’t remember the beach, not really. We went a few times when I was a kid, but I was too afraid of the crabs to enjoy myself. I’d sit in the beach chair, the umbrella overhead—our mom always made sure I had two layers of sunscreen, a huge hat, and spent most of my time in the shade. The crabs, though, they were the real problem. While Juno played in the surf, I’d sit and wait and watch. And sure enough, if I stayed still for long enough, the crabs would emerge from their holes and scurry around on the sand. Close enough that they could’ve snapped me with their claws if they’d wanted to. They terrified me even though they were tiny, nearly see-through. Just something about them—living underground like that, completely hidden and then shooting out to look for unsuspecting prey.

“You’re gone again.” Gage steps closer.

I rub my eyes. “Sorry. Haven’t been sleeping well.” I glance toward the lab. “I should be getting back.”

“All right. I just wanted to check on you, see how you’re doing.” There’s genuine concern in his eyes. “You’ve been working too hard. You look exhausted.”

“I don’t have time for exhaustion.” I glance up at him and wonder what it would be like to tell him what happened, to tell him the truth. And then that moment passes. I can’t burden anyone else with what I saw. Then again, what if he already knows? After all, he’s passing these coded notes.

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