The Isis Collar (Blood Singer #4)

The Isis Collar (Blood Singer #4) Page 25

“We’re going to find out from the ghosts where that buried treasure is or it’s all over for you and your sister, kid. Do you want that? Huh? Do it or someone is going to die!” I pulled against the ropes that didn’t feel like ropes anymore. They were heavier and stiffer, like metal, and it was hard to expand my chest.

The darkness was beginning to suck me down, the dirt and bugs covering me until I couldn’t breathe. Maybe if I stopped struggling the dirt would cover my ears and I wouldn’t hear the screaming anymore.

“Celia!”

“Celia. C’mon, Celie, wake up. You need to wake up or this isn’t going to work.” The voice was deeper now, a sound of strength and warmth, filled with pain and love and fear. Fear for me. The power of that voice pushed away the men and my sister’s dying screams, back to where they usually lurked, waiting for me to try to fall asleep at night.

My eyes fluttered open and I could see Bruno through the golden glow of a quarantine circle. I became aware once again of the pain in my leg. It was worse now than when I’d agreed to lie down on the table. “What’s happening? How long was I out? God, my leg hurts.”

“Yeah. I’m sure it does. The muscle is necrotic, and with every step you take, you spread the damage further. Your flesh is dying, Celia, and it’s going to keep dying unless we can stop this disease.” Bruno’s voice was harsh and angry, but I didn’t think he was mad at me.

He was scared—and that frightened me. “But you can fix it, right? It’s magic, so you can heal me?”

His eyes closed and I thought I saw a tear roll down his face. Surely that was just a trick of the light playing and his magic? Then he spoke and I knew better. His voice cracked as he said, “No, Celie. I can’t, any more than I can heal the common cold. But the CMDC is sending over a specialist from the unit they’re setting up at St. Anthony’s.”

That seemed odd, because St. Anthony’s isn’t one of the bigger hospitals in the region. It’s a community hospital and I knew they had set up a program of rotating specialists from the major hospitals in L.A., but a permanent unit? “They’re setting up a special unit here, instead of in L.A.? Why?”

“Yeah,” Rizzoli answered grimly. “They are. For a good reason. The hospital here has a bigger morgue.”

13

When the CMDC agent walked into the lab, he was wearing a hazardous-material white suit, complete with hood and air pack. That didn’t really help my emotional state. I tried to ignore him, to take my mind to a calmer place. I fixed my gaze on one particular tile in the ceiling. Tiny rust-colored blossoms, probably from a leak in the roof, were sprayed across the white acoustic tile in a random pattern. I’m pretty good at meditation and I’ve done yoga for years. But right then, with the night beating on my brain, with the urge to feed growing, it was hard to find inner peace. The part of me that was still human and thinking needed to warn the new man. “If you’re going to try to touch me, you need to feed me first. Get me some beef broth or at least a nutrition shake. And you’d better hurry because I can feel these restraints starting to give.”

My voice sounded strangely calm, as if it was separate from my body, which was thrashing around on the table, testing the limits of the titanium. I worried that I was going to destroy myself trying to get loose. But I couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop my body’s actions.

“Mage DeLuca had something delivered. Think you can drink or should I just pour it down your throat?”

My body stilled as I focused on the figure in white. I knew that voice. “Gaetano?” The medic, who’d shown up from time to time in the company of John Jones, couldn’t possibly be a member of the CMDC.

The man hesitated, then spoke slowly and cautiously. “Yesss. Have we met?”

Now that I was listening closer, I could tell that the voice wasn’t quite the same. “Christopher Gaetano?”

The muscles in his shoulders relaxed a bit. “No. I’m Thomas. Chris is my son. People say we sound alike.”

I nodded. “Pour it down my throat.” I leaned back and tried to relax. I trusted Chris Gaetano, and I was betting he learned his bedside manner from his dad. Chris had been the first person to ever take me to Disneyland. He had a joy of life that was infectious, and while we eventually decided that there was no romantic spark, I still considered him a friend. “Don’t get too close to my hands. I’m not really in control of them.” Thomas came forward, too fast. I felt my muscles tense, my fingers become claws that grabbed at his arm. The metal groaned from the sudden strain. “I’m serious, Doctor. I don’t want your son to be picking up pieces of you.” I raised my head and stared at him with glowing red eyes, letting him take a good look at my fangs. “Little tiny pieces.”

He was close enough that I could see his face, dimly, through the hazmat suit’s hood. He swallowed hard; the hand holding the tall Styrofoam cup trembled a bit. I couldn’t smell him through the plasticized suit, but I could see his pulse beating hard against the thin skin of his neck through the face shield. “Okay, Ms. Graves, we’re going to take this slow. If you start feeling the need to attack, raise your hand, or at least a finger, so I know to back up.”

That made sense, provided I retained enough control to do it. “What’s in the cup?”

“It’s meat broth from some barbeque restaurant. Actually, it smells pretty good. I’ll have to try that place.”

I knew the broth would work. It had before. A little while back, Dawna had gotten the staff of the barbeque place to start saving the drippings from under the massive steel smoker. The juice came from a variety of meats and tasted amazing. More important, it satisfied my hunger splendidly. With any luck, Bruno had called the same place. “Okay. Let’s do this. Can you pour through the quarantine circle?”

He shook his head. “No. That’s why it’s important to tell me if you’re getting stressed. Mage DeLuca is suiting up now and is going to lower the shield and keep an eye on you while you … feed.”

I shifted my gaze back to the ceiling, letting the scent of the meat fill me. If I concentrated on the meat broth, anticipating the taste, I wouldn’t focus on anything else.

Like pulsing veins.

“Cheer up, Doctor. Your son worked on me a couple of times. And he didn’t have titanium bands to hold me down.”

He actually chuckled. “Yes, but my son’s insanity is well known in our family.”

That made me laugh—and it pushed the vampire back enough to let me control my mind. I motioned to the quart-sized container. “Just get the bottom close enough to me that I can bite it. It’ll come out slow enough that I won’t choke while drinking it.”

He looked nervous and I knew why. Holding the container near my mouth would put him within reach of my hands, and if I got hold of him, no way he was getting loose. “Mage DeLuca should be ready in just a second. We’ll see what he suggests.”

Bruno walked in just then, wearing a similar suit to Dr. Gaetano’s. He’d left his gloves off. I raised my brows and looked at his bare fingers. He shrugged. Or at least I thought he did. Hard to tell under that all-white fabric. “Need my fingers to craft. So, are you going to be able to keep your hands to yourself, or do I need to cast a body binding on you?” He used a joking tone, but he was serious.

“I need to eat, Bruno. If I don’t, it’ll get ugly later. I don’t know how much of my head will be left by morning. My leg’s making me irritable and the restraints are making me crazy. Bad combination.”

He reached over and took the container from Gaetano Sr.’s hands. “I’ll do it, Doctor. I stand a better chance of getting it down her throat. You start cutting her pant leg off.”

I looked at him with shock. “You’re going to cut my pants? Bruno, I just bought these jeans. They’re designer originals.”

He shook his head in the typical guy way, having no clue how hard it was to find clothes that fit and look good at the same time. “I’m sure Dawna will be happy to go shopping with you for another pair. You’ll never even notice.” The hell I wouldn’t! “You’ll be too busy eating.” He took the lid off the container and the thoughts about my jeans faded behind the hunger. The scent, thin but clearly perceptible to my vampire senses before, now burst into the air and my mouth immediately started to water. He put two fingers into the liquid and drew them out again. My gaze followed his every move, every drip of the juice back into the plastic tub. “It’s warm, Celia. Right at body temperature.” His hand moved over my face, and after several precise movements of his fingers, I felt the pressure from the quarantine magic release so abruptly it made me dizzy. A few drops of broth dripped onto my lips and slid into my mouth.

I heard a growl erupt from my throat, a sound I didn’t realize I could make. Bruno lowered the container toward my face and I met him halfway, my teeth snapping so hard I was surprised my lips weren’t sliced. He was startled, but not enough to drop the cup. He let me grab the edge of the container with my teeth and slash at it as much I needed to. Because I did. I needed to.

I hated that.

But the moment the beef, pork, and chicken au jus hit my tongue, my self-consciousness disappeared.

Hunger. I needed.

I drank and let a shudder of pleasure overtake me. I wanted to grab the cup, but I couldn’t. So I was forced to drink only as quickly as Bruno poured—slow, just a trickle, so most of it went down my throat instead of down the side of my face.

It took a long time, but that allowed me to savor it all the more. When I finished the last gulp, I closed my eyes and paused to catch my breath. That’s when I realized that not only had Dr. Gaetano cut off my pant leg, he’d removed samples of my skin with a scalpel and used the room’s portable X-ray machine to snap pictures of my calf. My mind had recorded the feelings and sounds even while it had been completely focused on what I had been eating.