Page 47 of Vampire's Choice
Marcellus conjured a sword from the air. Fear spiked in Ruth’s chest, giving extra strength to what she shrieked next.
“Hallucinogen.”
Thank the Great Father, Marcellus understood. The sword disappeared. “Take care of Clara,” he ordered, already in motion.
He and Merc met with an impact that should have broken bones. Merc had almost reached her, so that she covered her head and curled into a ball to protect herself as Marcellus straddled her, hanging onto the snarling, thrashing incubus. Their wings beat at one another like enraged roosters in a yard, the feathers whipping across her back and neck.
Then they were in the air. As she lifted her head, she saw Marcellus had his arms banded around Merc in a wrestling hold. A blink later, they were both gone.
Please don’t hurt him. A crazy thought, with all the other things Ruth had to think about, but it was as strong as any other impulse she was having.
Dollar knelt by her. “Christ, what the hell was that? Has Merc finally lost it? Or was he working with them?”
She stared at him. No matter the years he’d been here, no one trusted Merc. Which meant it wasn’t his home. Did he have any place that was?
“No,” she said. “The Trad had an airborne hallucinogen capsule behind his fang. It’s designed to fuck up whoever is right over them. It dissipates pretty fast, but I’d still wrap him up and let the sunlight have him after you examine his corpse.”
“Fuck.” Dollar barked a warning at the team members approaching the Trad. “Get something impermeable to put him in and stow him somewhere safe until the show is over. What are you doing?”
Ruth was struggling to her feet. She grabbed his arm to push herself to her feet. “Clara,” she said.
Dollar didn’t argue, a good sign for their future working relationship. He did keep his arm out to help her get back into Clara’s tent faster, which Ruth supposed was evidence she looked a little rough at the moment.
The fortune teller was sitting with Zee, another woman on the security team. The bolas had been removed and Clara was sitting in her chair, rubbing her ankles. She gave Ruth a wan thumbs up. “Thank goodness my last client had left.”
Ruth didn’t think that was luck. This had been too well planned. Clara’s expression was pale and tight, but also angry, a good sign. Her attention slid to Ruth’s blood-soaked shirt. “Dollar, why the hell is she standing? Has Charlie been called?”
“I’m fine,” Ruth told her. “I’m not human. Remember?”
“Yeah, but you still don’t look so good,” Dollar said. “An arm is not supposed to point that way. We should probably get it fixed, because it’s making mine hurt just to look at it.”
“Big baby,” Ruth said between gritted teeth. The jibe earned a startled look, followed by grudging approval. “If I can get someone to set it, it will heal,” she told him and Clara. “Did you ever have one of those dolls with moveable joints? It’s like that.”
“Yeah, but those dolls aren’t in agonizing pain while their bones are shifted back into their proper place.” Another member of the team had arrived, a man as big as Dollar. She’d met him during the security briefing. John Pierce, Medusa’s mate. Like Dollar, the male was former special ops, and looked every inch of the warrior he was. He glanced at Zee. “Go get Charlie.”
“No. I mean it.” Ruth waved at him. “It’s not the first time I’ve broken a bone. If Dollar’s not going to bother Yvette about a Trad attack during the performance, I’m sure as hell not pulling away one of her key people to do something I can do for myself. One of you big, strong types can help me set the bone. If someone else can go grab me some blood, that would be great.”
Dollar and JP exchanged a glance. “Do you two want to do rock, paper and scissors to see who has the balls to do it?” Ruth asked.
Zee hid a smile as Dollar cleared his throat. “I’m in charge, I’ll handle it,” he told JP. “Go take care of the body.”
JP gave Ruth a steady look—another Dom, of course—but it was tinged with respect. When he departed, Dollar pointed Ruth to Clara’s guest chair, which Zee set upright. As Ruth sat down, she told him how to set the bone.
At his dubious look, she added, “Have you ever done one of those online puzzles, where if you get the pieces lined up close enough, they pull together the right way? That’s what vampire bones do. If I did absolutely nothing, one piece of the bone would eventually gravitate back toward the other one, until they met and fused on their own. It’s excruciating, but vampires injured with no one around to help, their spines broken, have talked about how it happens.”
“All I’m hearing is that it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch.”
“It hurts that way right now. The smoother and quicker you do it, the better. If you stop and ask me if I’m okay, I might rip out your throat. Speaking of which, it would be really good to have that blood on the way.”
Zee disappeared on that errand. Ruth could control her blood hunger to a certain point, but it was increasing, her body seeking the nourishment to augment the healing process.
Clara sat down next to her and gripped Ruth’s hand, a kind offer of moral support, if entirely inadvisable.
“You okay?” Ruth asked. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in time to keep him from getting into the tent. Stop looking at my arm or you’re going to faint.”
Clara gave her an exasperated look, though it was overshadowed with other concerns. “Marcellus?”
“Dealing with Merc.” Ruth explained what had happened, and then disengaged her hand with a reassuring squeeze. “When Dollar does this, I might break all your fingers. Marcellus will kill the Circus’s newest security hire.”