Page 327 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

One of the first things Dom had taught him was that intuition is not fear. When it comes, it is a calm sense of knowing. Which unfortunately, doesn't mean it won't be about something fearful.

In this case, it was. What was going down in Europe with the vampire community made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. And he was quite certain that very soon it would involve them, too.

He'd been trying to keep Dom engaged and focused on the problem. Which was tricky because it seemed like his budding romance with Kate was something serious. And he didn't want to thwart that—he honestly had never seen Dom so animated, so interested in anything besides his sculpting before. He loved Kate and Dom both dearly. Seeing Dom so changed, so engaged with life for the first time, was pure joy.

But Dom's safety was at stake. All of them were at risk, but especially Dom. He checked his watch: 2 am. Dom should be upstairs soon. That was usually the time Kate went to bed and he reemerged from his bedroom. Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, he heard the door at the top of the stairs open and Dom came out.

“I heard from Randolph again,” he said.

“What did you learn?”

“It sounds like more and more vampires are falling to Roxanna. Vampires who know them report they have lost all of their former personalities and preferences, even memories. They're becoming almost zombie-like. And Dom, she's converting them by the hundreds.”

Dom looked at him seriously.

“Randolph's scared. He didn't say so, but I can tell. It sounds like anyone who hadn't been converted is going into hiding.”

Dom sat down and closed his eyes, touching the tips of his fingers together. It was a good sign—Dom did this when he was tapping into his intuition. He was careful not to make any distracting noises as he sat watching Dom's still figure, waiting.

After about fifteen minutes, Dom's eyes snapped open. “She's turning them a second time. Same process as an original turning—taking blood and giving it, just that she's doing it to a vampire instead of a human.”

Dom rubbed his temples, wincing with the pain that using his psychic abilities brought on. “I don't know what she needs the older vamp blood for, though.” He stood up and crossed the room to the bathroom, and Fox heard him throwing up in the toilet.

Fox shut his laptop and stood up as well. “What would help?” he asked quietly, standing in the open bathroom door. “Some water? Tea?”

“Tea. Thanks, Fox,” Dom grunted, rinsing his mouth out with water from the tap. That was one thing to be said about Dom. He might be gruff and overbearing at times, but he was also appreciative and kind. Dom had been part of the Italian aristocracy before he was turned. He'd been waited on hand and foot by an army of servants. There were many—well, there had been many more before Roxanna—older vampires who turned and kept scores of younger vampires for the sole purpose of serving them.

Not Dom. He didn't expect to be served, though something about him made everyone—vampire and mortal alike—want to please him. And he always showed his gratitude, which just made them want to give him more.

“No problem.” Fox went to the kitchen and put the kettle on, looking through his extensive tea collection. He may be British born, but living in Tucson, he'd developed a knowledge of the uses of many herbal teas and had even developed a fondness for the taste. He picked out two herbals that were good for calming the belly and called out, “Chamomile or mint?”

Dom threw up again and groaned. “You pick.”

He picked mint and tossed a tea bag into a mug and dripped a glob of honey on top of it. When the kettle whistled, he poured the steaming water on top of the tea bag and honey glob and stirred.

Dom came into the kitchen and threw himself into a chair. Fox placed the steaming mug in front of him. “Thank you,” Dom said, giving him a faint smile.

He sat down across from Dom. “So. She's coming for you, right?”

“Is that what you see, Fox?”

He shrugged. “I don't see things like you. But I just feel certain that it's true.”

Dom's shoulders sagged and he stared into his tea.

He took a deep breath. He already knew this wasn't going to go over easily. “Dom, I think we need to find a way to help them.”

Dom shook his head. “What can we do? We're in Tucson. Until things take form here, we do nothing.”

“But, Dom. Vampires are scared. They don't understand what's going on or how to protect themselves. Couldn't you come up with some kind of strategy that they could employ? Either to protect themselves or to turn the changed ones back?”

“Your faith in my abilities is way too high, Fox. I don't have a clue how to protect against this, nor how to reverse it.” He shook his head. “And it's not our problem.”

“Jesus, Dom! We have to take care of our own or there will be no good vampires left! Don't you remember that Niemoller poem that used to run in Dear Abby about no one speaking up when the Nazis came for each different group so at the end there was no one to speak up for them?”

Dom looked at him like he was crazy.

“Well, anyway, we need to band together now! To stop that bitch Roxanna—to save the vampires who have been twice turned! We have to do something,” he implored.

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