charts, and a few machines. Along one wall were computers and refrigerated cases with vials of unrecognizable liquids with little labels on them. Fluorescent track lighting hung from the ceiling, illuminating the light green walls.
“Nice lab,” Greta said, giggling.
Charlee’s brows knit together, not getting the joke. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Dayne rolled his eyes and directed Charlee to sit on the table. He donned a white lab coat and scrubbed his hands in the sink, then returned armed with a needle.
“I’m going to draw some blood and run a few basic tests.”
“Aren’t you going to X-ray my head?”
He looked uncomfortably over at the machine Charlee assumed was for X-raying heads. “CT scan, but it depends on what the blood work shows.”
After he’d filled a vial with her blood, Charlee and Greta went up to the main part of the house and out to the garden, leaving Dayne to work.
Lush blooms dotted the entirety of the stone-encased backyard. In the absence of trees, the sun streamed down without obstruction, sparkling off the water in the birdbath showcased in the center. It was like another world.
The two of them sprawled on beach towels with coffee and cinnamon rolls. They talked about Dayne until he returned, causing both women to blush like guilty adolescents.
“Greta, I need to speak with you privately.”
Charlee looked up. “Is something wrong?”
She wondered what awful thing he could have found in her blood.
“It’s fine, Charlee. I just need to borrow Greta for a minute.”
Greta excused herself and the two of them moved just inside the door. Charlee waited until their voices got louder, and she couldn’t resist going to eavesdrop. She slipped to the edge of the garden and hid behind a spray of greenery arranged in a large stone urn beside the door.
“You are not involving him,” Greta hissed.
“Please be rational. I know you don’t trust him, but I’ve known Anthony for many years. This is his mess to clean.”
There was a long pause, then Greta let out a loud sigh. “Fine, but I hate it. When will Evil Dead get here?”
“I can’t call until after sunset, but then . . . ”
Charlee leaned forward too far and the urn toppled over. She raced back to her beach towel and tried to look innocent.
Dayne poked his head out the door. “Charlee, are you okay?”
“Fine.” But her mind whirred with possibilities. Who was Anthony, why didn’t Greta trust him, and what kind of mess had he made?
Chapter Three
Anthony chuckled as he stepped out of the black Mercedes and felt the wards encircling the cottage. The magic didn’t feel foreboding to him, but welcoming. A thick fog of darkness he could get lost in. He guessed not many vampires had been near the Wickham house or Dayne would have plugged the security hole by now.
The sorcerer hadn’t been forthcoming on the phone. He’d just said he needed Anthony there immediately and that it was of the highest importance. He rolled his eyes.
Humans.
Wickham might have a longer lifespan than the rest of them and a few extra perks from the magic, but he still thought like a human. Everything was life or death and potentially world-ending for them. When you’d lived as long as Anthony had, you stopped listening to dire warnings of doom. These things usually had a way of working themselves out.
And ’lo, the world still stands. Funny how that worked out.
The only reason he’d come out to Deliverance country was curiosity. He assumed there was still poison in Greta’s blood and he’d been called to drink again. His memories of the previous night were chaotic at best. Despite the temptation of her blood, if that was what Dayne needed, he’d have to find himself another vamp.
Starting now, Anthony was adopting a strict just say no policy. It was too close to the tournament to be so careless. He’d worked too hard. He wasn’t risking a full century for one more drink of therian blood, pleasurable though it was. When he
“Nice lab,” Greta said, giggling.
Charlee’s brows knit together, not getting the joke. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Dayne rolled his eyes and directed Charlee to sit on the table. He donned a white lab coat and scrubbed his hands in the sink, then returned armed with a needle.
“I’m going to draw some blood and run a few basic tests.”
“Aren’t you going to X-ray my head?”
He looked uncomfortably over at the machine Charlee assumed was for X-raying heads. “CT scan, but it depends on what the blood work shows.”
After he’d filled a vial with her blood, Charlee and Greta went up to the main part of the house and out to the garden, leaving Dayne to work.
Lush blooms dotted the entirety of the stone-encased backyard. In the absence of trees, the sun streamed down without obstruction, sparkling off the water in the birdbath showcased in the center. It was like another world.
The two of them sprawled on beach towels with coffee and cinnamon rolls. They talked about Dayne until he returned, causing both women to blush like guilty adolescents.
“Greta, I need to speak with you privately.”
Charlee looked up. “Is something wrong?”
She wondered what awful thing he could have found in her blood.
“It’s fine, Charlee. I just need to borrow Greta for a minute.”
Greta excused herself and the two of them moved just inside the door. Charlee waited until their voices got louder, and she couldn’t resist going to eavesdrop. She slipped to the edge of the garden and hid behind a spray of greenery arranged in a large stone urn beside the door.
“You are not involving him,” Greta hissed.
“Please be rational. I know you don’t trust him, but I’ve known Anthony for many years. This is his mess to clean.”
There was a long pause, then Greta let out a loud sigh. “Fine, but I hate it. When will Evil Dead get here?”
“I can’t call until after sunset, but then . . . ”
Charlee leaned forward too far and the urn toppled over. She raced back to her beach towel and tried to look innocent.
Dayne poked his head out the door. “Charlee, are you okay?”
“Fine.” But her mind whirred with possibilities. Who was Anthony, why didn’t Greta trust him, and what kind of mess had he made?
Chapter Three
Anthony chuckled as he stepped out of the black Mercedes and felt the wards encircling the cottage. The magic didn’t feel foreboding to him, but welcoming. A thick fog of darkness he could get lost in. He guessed not many vampires had been near the Wickham house or Dayne would have plugged the security hole by now.
The sorcerer hadn’t been forthcoming on the phone. He’d just said he needed Anthony there immediately and that it was of the highest importance. He rolled his eyes.
Humans.
Wickham might have a longer lifespan than the rest of them and a few extra perks from the magic, but he still thought like a human. Everything was life or death and potentially world-ending for them. When you’d lived as long as Anthony had, you stopped listening to dire warnings of doom. These things usually had a way of working themselves out.
And ’lo, the world still stands. Funny how that worked out.
The only reason he’d come out to Deliverance country was curiosity. He assumed there was still poison in Greta’s blood and he’d been called to drink again. His memories of the previous night were chaotic at best. Despite the temptation of her blood, if that was what Dayne needed, he’d have to find himself another vamp.
Starting now, Anthony was adopting a strict just say no policy. It was too close to the tournament to be so careless. He’d worked too hard. He wasn’t risking a full century for one more drink of therian blood, pleasurable though it was. When he
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