"No offense, Patsy," said Ralph, "but nowhere in Broken Heart is safe. Not even the mansion."
We were wrapped in blankets and sitting on the trunk of Ralph's car. I was so tired. Ralph was feeling better because a donor had arrived and let him nosh. That's why he'd been so easily knocked out - he'd been weakened by lack of blood.
I was hungry, too, and I wanted meat. I was ashamed I craved the cooked flesh of an animal, but the desire was there. Steak. Medium-rare. I was salivating at the thought. Patsy, Gabriel, the scary green-eyed dude, and Lorcan stood in front of us. Other people ran around the area, doing what I didn't know. Nothing was salvageable here. We'd gone over what had happened a hundred times, but they kept asking questions and picked at parts of our story. I knew they were trying to find something - anything - that would help them prepare for the next attack. The dragons would be back. Everyone knew it.
"This whole situation has gotten bigger than all of us," said Patsy. "But you're right, Ralph. I don't know where safe is anymore."
Ralph and I wanted to go back to his house and chill out. I wanted a shower. And I wanted to pretend to be normal for just a little while.
"Are you sure there were two dragons?" asked Patsy. Again.
I stopped short of rolling my eyes.
Ralph nodded. "We think the one who attacked was the same one from the cemetery. Did you ever find anything, Damian?"
Green Eyes shook his head. "We never found a body."
Ralph sighed. "I think the second dragon is involved with Lia."
"Great. So she's hooked up with some bad-ass dragon who wants his sister's power," said Patsy. "Let's hope Ash knows what the hell she's doing."
"She's the only one who can kill him," said Gabriel. "She's the Convocation's number one assassin. And the only one of her kind."
"And what kind is that?" I asked.
"She's a soul shifter. She absorbs the souls, and the forms, of the people she . . . er, releases from the bonds of earth," said Gabriel. "The sooner she catches her dragon, the better for us. She has to take a soul every ninety days, no matter what, or she dies."
Patsy shuddered. "Believe me, you don't want to be near her when that shit goes down."
"I think Libby should go to the hospital," said Ralph. "He banged her up pretty good."
"You, too," I said.
"Dragon or not, you both probably need to be checked out," said Patsy. "Tell you what - go to the hospital and, if Dr. Merrick gives you the thumbs-up, you can return to Ralph's house and get some rest. I'll send some guardians over there, just to be safe."
Dr. Merrick was tall, slender, and very well dressed. I could sense something otherworldly about her, but unlike every other person I'd met so far, she didn't have an aura. At least, not one I could detect. Lucky for me and Ralph, Patsy had arranged for someone to bring us clothes. I wore the pajamas and a pair of Ralph's socks. Ralph had tucked into a shirt, jeans, and an old pair of sneakers. We both had borrowed coats draped on the table near the door.
"You and Ralph are fine. Well, he's still dead."
"Ha ha, doc," said Ralph.
She smiled. "No internal bleeding, broken bones, or other trauma I could find. If you experience pain, nausea, headaches, or double vision, come back so I can check you out again."
With that prognosis, she left. Ralph and I looked at each other. It felt awkward between us, the way it always did without the fire. I wondered if the doctor counted heartache among the symptoms that would get me a recheck. Probably not. That pain was my own, and I wasn't sharing it.
"Let's go," said Ralph.
We left the exam room and walked down the hallway. The hospital was small, but obviously well funded. New building or not, it had that cloying antiseptic smell found in every hospital. The sparkly tattooed lady . . . Brigid, right? Yeah. She stood in the hallway, but had obviously just stepped out from a patient's room.
"Brigid," said Ralph. "How are they?"
Her smile was warm, even though her eyes held resignation. "It's a terrible thing," she said in her Irish lilt,
"to have the power of gods, and not be able to save me own grandson." Her gaze darted toward the opened door.
My heart dropped to my toes. I didn't want to see what I had done. On purpose or not, I'd hurt someone, someone who might not live because of my actions.
Ralph took my hand, and I was grateful for his intuitive, silent support. Brigid gestured toward the room and, reluctantly, I peeked inside.
Two hospital beds had been pushed together. Patrick and his wife lay shoulder to shoulder with the thin white covers pulled up to their chins. I noticed Patrick's hair was black again. Both were ghastly pale, and it didn't take a doctor to know that they weren't doing well. Each had an IV hooked up to their arms. The thin plastic tubes delivered blood. Uncomfortable, I stepped back.
"We keep hoping fresh blood will revive them," said Brigid. "We've tried every kind: donors, Ancients, lycans, even mine."
"If you're a goddess, why can't you fix them?" I asked. I wasn't even sure I believed she was a goddess.
"There are rules," she said vaguely.
"Libby Monroe?" said a woman's voice.
Ralph and I turned around. The woman was tall and lithe, her long black hair worn plaited. She was dressed in tight black jeans, a pink leather jacket, and some kick-ass boots. She also wore a white David and Goliath T-shirt that said, "Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them!"
The most intriguing thing about her was her eyes. They were so gray they looked nearly translucent. It was creepy, her stare. Power emanated from her; she had a caged strength that I didn't want to see unleashed. Her outline was a rainbow of shifting colors. I was amazed by her aura, since every other person I'd met, except for the doctor, had one single color.
She tilted her head at me. "Damn it. He got Sybina. Why the hell did she give you her soul?"
"What?" I gaped at her. "What?"
"Who's Sybina?" asked Ralph.
"Perhaps you should start from the beginning, Ash," said Brigid in her soothing way. Ash was staring at Ralph. "You have some of Sybina's energy, too. It's like her soul was split in half."
"That's not exactly the beginning," said Brigid.
Ash looked from Brigid to Ralph and me. "Oh, right. I'm Ash and I've come to slay the dragon."
Ralph and I took a hurried step back. Ralph hit the wall and I smacked into Brigid.
"Oh, please. You're not really dragons. A dragon is born, not made. You have Sybina's magic and her fire, but your human sides dampen them. And since you split her energy, it's less potent. It's not like you're going to go all scaly and sprout wings."
"That's a relief," I said, not really feeling relieved. "If you're not . . . uh, slaying us, why are you here?"
"Patsy and Gabriel gave me the four-one-one," said Ash. "I just wanted to get a firsthand account. But now I know the ending of the story. Sybina gave you her soul."
"And you wanted it," said Brigid.
"She was gifting me with it," said Ash. "We had a deal. But her brother Synd wanted it, too."
"Well, you can have it," I said. "How do I give it back to you?"
"If I sucked your soul out of your body," she said, "you'd be mine forever. All of you, and not just the part of Sybina you carry within you."
"Oh." I swallowed the knot in my throat. Sheesh. This chick was more than a little scary. "Then I guess I'll just keep it."
"I've lived a long time in this world, and even I know little about dragons," said Brigid, her gaze on Ash.
"But you do."
"Yeah. I'm a compendium of useless dragon facts. Fat lot of good it does me. I'm headed back to the mansion. I gotta put my two cents in on the battle plans."
Battle plans? Oh, shit. The vampires were going to war with Synd . . . and PRIS was on its way to make things much, much worse. What the hell had I been thinking?
"Wait," said Brigid. "Can vampires be poisoned by dragons?"
Ash's eyebrows rose, and her expression was filled with disbelief. "Oh, c'mon. Don't tell me some schmuck got the bright idea of sucking dragon's blood?"
I flinched. "Schmuck is kinda harsh."
Her gaze was scathing. "You did it? I guess you have more dragon magic than I thought. Lucky it's an easy fix. Gotta make a potion with dragon saliva, fairy sparkles, and a shot of bourbon."
"What's the bourbon for?" I asked.
"To get the taste of dragon spit out of your mouth."
Brigid called Dr. Merrick, who arrived a few minutes later. Ash told her what was needed, and she gave Ash an assessing look. "I've never heard of this cure."
"You ever had a patient suffering from dragon poisoning?"
"Point taken." Dr. Merrick led the way into the room. A nurse arrived with specimen cups and a fifth of bourbon.
"Is whiskey medicinal?" I asked, amazed that they'd found alcohol so quickly.
"I believe in being prepared," said Dr. Merrick primly. She handed me a specimen cup. "Spit."
"Ew. Why can't Ralph spit?"
"Both of you spit," said Ash. "Better chance of this working. Where are the sparkles?"
"Here." Brigid lifted her hand over an empty cup and sparkling gold flakes fell into it. Ralph spit first, which was not sexy at all, thank you. I added my saliva to his and handed the cup to Dr. Merrick. She mixed everything together.
"Is this enough?" asked Dr. Merrick, looking at the slimy gold concoction. She sounded doubtful.
"Shouldn't take that much," said Ash. "The fairy sparkles increase the potency. Throw in the bourbon and get some straws."
"Patrick and Jessica are comatose, so we'll have to forego the straws." Dr. Merrick poured in the bourbon and stirred. She glanced at the nurse. "I need a 3 ml syringe."
I couldn't watch the doctor shoot that gnarly drink in the vampires' mouths. I turned away and stared at the blank wall. Ralph didn't have a problem watching, but he did take my hand and squeeze. Man, he was really good at that comfort thing.
"How long does it take to work?" asked Brigid. Her voice held hope and excitement.
"Should be quick," answered Ash. "Like I said, the fairy sparkles amp up its power."
We waited. And waited. I got tired of staring at the wall and turned around. Patrick and Jessica didn't look any better. Their outlines were both a fading blue. I didn't want to say anything, but I knew the cure hadn't worked.
Everyone turned their gazes to Dr. Merrick. She shook her head slightly. Brigid sank into a chair near the bed, her sad gaze on her grandson.
"Shit," said Ash. "Looks like Libby was dragon enough to poison him, but not dragon enough to cure him."
"How do you know it's the spittle that's not working?" asked Dr. Merrick.
"Seriously?" Ash rolled her eyes like that was the dumbest question she'd ever heard.
"Wait a minute. If our saliva isn't strong enough to rid Patrick of the poison, then . . ." He trailed off, his gaze on mine.
"Yep," said Ash. "We need a loogie from a real dragon."
