Page 92 of Demon's Bluff
“No.” Elyse flashed her a smile. “Most aren’t even supposed to be here.”
I ran my hand across the chain-link fence embedded into both the ceiling and the floor, the quickthump-thump-thumpagainst my fingers grounding me. “The university has an annoying tendency to steal things they think should be for their eyes only,” I said sourly. “Which is why I don’t have a problem sneaking down here and availing myself when I need to.”
“Mmmm.” Dr. Ophees studied me as if considering I might not be the vampire junky in rhinestones and sequins that she was probably seeing. I didn’t really care what she thought as long as she listened. At least I wasn’t in sweats and red-stained sneakers.
“Doctor,” I said as I swung the gate to the locker open and she hesitated, waiting for Elyse to go first. I pulled the chain-link shut behind me, not surprised when the older woman ran her hand along the titles as she passed. That she could still tap a line down here was probably a relief.
“I didn’t know this existed,” she whispered as she paused at a title. “Stef, if that’s your real name, I owe you some consideration if only because you brought this to my attention.”
“Just don’t spread it around. I don’t want to come down here and find people,” I muttered, my attention going right to Kisten when the short passage opened up to the small, ugly room defined by bookracks and one cold stone wall. He hadn’t moved, and a sliver of panic iced through me.Is that good or bad?
Dr. Ophees set her box on the table. “Well, let’s see how he sits.”
I stood just inside the room, arms over my middle. Guilt swam up from a growing sense of responsibility. I should have been able to take him to the emergency department, not hidden him in the basement of the library. Vampire politics sucked.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Elyse said softly as Dr. Ophees whispered some Latin and a hazy spell sifted over him, flashing through what remained of his aura before it waned. “We have things to do tonight.”
I fidgeted as Dr. Ophees took his pulse or, at least, waited for one. It might be a while. “We can’t even be on-site until seven,” I said. “She’ll be out of here in less than an hour.”
Still waiting for a pulse, Dr. Ophees said, “What did he die of?”
That damned lump was back in my throat. “An undead threw him into a wall and snapped his neck. He was a blood gift.”
“Ah, there it is. Nice and strong,” she said, and let his wrist drop. She shifted his head, searching for marks on his neck, then checked his other wrist. “Hence him being here and not emergency. I’m not seeing any visible bite marks. Why is he languishing?”
“He, ah, bit the attacking vampire,” I said, and Dr. Ophees turned, interested. “Kisten shifted to his undead state with no downtime,” I explained. “He knew he couldn’t overpower his attacker, so he intentionally bit him to save me.”
Dr. Ophees’s expression remained rigidly professional. “You were there.”
It wasn’t a question, and I nodded, jaw clenched. “He mixed their blood to take that bastard down with him. He died to keep me and someone else safe.”And it still hurts.
She eyed him. “So where’s the attacking vampire?”
“He fled,” I said to explain why Art hadn’t shown up in her morgue, because that’s what it was. “I expect he’ll be dead in three days. Don’t look for him. He’s gone.”
My lip twitched as I stifled a surge of anger. Art had hidden himself in the tunnels with his scion. Both died horribly, as Art had drained his scion in a desperate attempt to stave off death. It didn’t seem like enough.
“I’m sorry.” Dr. Ophees set Kisten’s hand atop his chest. “The amount of virus he received from his attacker was slight, but it was enough. He’s fading. Sunrise, perhaps, when his aura runs out. Maybe longer.”
“You want to see the spell?” I ground out. “Or would you rather browse the racks for the next forty minutes?”
Dr. Ophees lifted her gaze to take in the ugly room and sighed. “Sure,” she said flatly, her back to Kisten as she pulled out one of the rolling chairs and sat before the table. “Impress me.”
She obviously thought this was a waste of time, and maybe it was. The spell would create smut. I knew Dr. Ophees wouldn’t go for that, so I’d take it, using the collective to handle the exchange if she would give, say, ten percent of every aura she gathered to Kisten. If I registered the curse with a fee-for-use, I wouldn’t even have to monitor it.
Motions rough, I unpacked the box, my anger easing when I used the ion-repelling scarf I had borrowed from Sylvia to prep the area and Dr. Ophees began to take an interest, either at the high-end spell-prep precaution or the tinkling of the bells or, most likely, the sudden scent of burnt amber. Regardless, she was paying attention, and I decided to go all the way and shimmied into the robe. Iwasworking with auras…sort of.
“You want some help?” Elyse asked, her gaze going to her robe jammed into that round hat.
“No, but thanks.” Head down, I retied the sleeves up past my elbows. “I know the original curse, and I saw the pentagram she used. I should be able to figure it out.”
Elyse shifted to stand between me and the doctor. “Ah…I thought…you don’t…”
“Just sit down,” I griped, stifling a flash of worry. “Let me know if I get close to violating the coven’s precious double standard,” I added bitterly, and Elyse frowned, giving the second chair a tug to roll it halfway across the room before she dropped into it, a scowl on her face and her arms over her chest.
Do the charm, register it as a fee-for-use curse, link the payment to Kisten.Easy said, easy done.
Right…