Lucien had a sinking feeling he’d be meeting all of them before this was over. Someone with a very old grudge was spreading the poison Saba and her friends had helped create. They’d tried to destroy it, but nothing in their world remained hidden forever. The poison was spreading like a drop of wine in a water glass.

“I want you to throw away whatever you’re working on right now,” Lucien said, striding into the lab where he’d seen Makeda’s assistant coming and going. “I want you to take all my research and set it aside.”

Makeda looked up and spun her chair toward him, but she didn’t stand. “Oh? Welcome back and all that.”

“Toss it. Look at this case as if you were seeing everything for the first time. Carmen is your only patient. You have no idea what she has or what I’ve tried in the past regarding treatment. Throw it all away and start fresh. It doesn’t have to be fast. I want slow. Deliberate. Consider anything and everything. You have no direction right now; you’re starting over.”

Lucien stood with his hands on his hips, but Makeda didn’t react. There was just that maddening slow pulse and a face devoid of emotion.

She said, “What makes you think I was following your research to begin with?”

“What?”

“I’ve already started fresh,” she continued. “It was no use going over old lines of inquiry. I’m looking at this as if it were a human blood disorder that has nothing to do with vampires.”

She’d anticipated him. Lucien was taken aback and… slightly aroused. Unexpected and inconvenient.

“Fine,” he said. “Good. If you have any questions—”

“I won’t ask you,” Makeda said. “That would be counterproductive.” She turned back to her computer.

Her disregard only made her more appealing. “You’re very quick for a human.”

“I’ll try not to be insulted by that. You’re not the first arrogant vampire I’ve worked with.”

“And you’re not the first human I’ve worked with.”

“I know.” She flipped through a notebook of handwritten notes. “You’ve got a bit of a reputation, Dr. Thrax.”

He stiffened. “What does that mean?”

“Only that a few of the younger techs would be happy to catch your eye.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s quite well known you enjoy human women. According to gossip in the lab, only human women. But if you’re looking for company—”

“I’m not.” Lucien didn’t react. It was normal for humans to tell tales about the unfamiliar. “Do you make a habit of listening to gossip?”

“It’s practically impossible to avoid it in a lab this small. We amuse ourselves any way we can.” She finally looked at him. “And since you’re not the kind of administrator who takes kindly to practical joking—or so I’ve been told—gossip and innuendo will have to do.”

“Lives are at stake, Dr. Abel. I expect my employees to focus on the task at hand.”

Her mouth turned up at the corner, and Lucien caught a hint of a dimple in her cheek. “So do I, but I also recognize that they’re only human. Or most of them are. We all need a break now and then, or we burn out. My kind doesn’t have eight hours of sleep forced on us every night.”

“Not all my kind do either.” Lucien was old enough that sometimes sleep eluded him. Or he only grabbed a few hours of it in a night. “Fine. Enjoy your jokes and your gossip, but don’t expect me to feed into it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Makeda said, turning back to her notebook. “I need to record some notes now. Please close the door on your way out.”

Lucien had been dismissed. The nerve of the woman…

Dammit, he was definitely aroused.

One month later…

“No more,” Carmen whispered to him. “Lucien, no more.”

He leaned over the bed and spoke softly. “I’m just trying to keep you comfortable. I know you don’t want me to—”

“The feeding tube… out.” Carmen spoke through cracked lips. “I want it out.”

Lucien dabbed some petroleum jelly over her lips to ease the cracking. He ignored the sickly-sweet smell surrounding her. Once, that sweetness had lived in her blood. Now he smelled it on her breath. Her hair. The cold sweat that coated her skin.

“You’ll die without the feeding tube,” he said quietly.

“I’m dying anyway. I’m tired. I just want to go.”

She was nearly skeletal. Her heart was failing. She slipped in and out of consciousness.

“Please, Lucien.” Carmen closed her eyes. “You have never treated me, or any of the others, like experiments. Not once. Please don’t keep me alive now just because—”

“You were never experiments,” Lucien said, his throat closing up. “You are my patient. I want to help you.”

“You can’t.” Her emaciated hand reached out to grasp his. “It’s finished. You’ll cure others. Take anything you need from me for your work. It’s only a body. But let me go. Please. Stop the feeding tube. Stop the water. We both know how to end this.”

Guilt was a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. “What are you asking of me?”

“You know what I’m asking.” She squeezed his hand with surprising strength. “Please call Baojia and Natalie. I want to say good-bye. Then, if you are truly my doctor, you’ll end this. Please.”