“I had my assistant search your laptop and print any pages from your browsing history that were within our research parameters,” he said, not looking up from his work. He didn’t stop writing either. “I know your memory is not entirely recovered, but I’m hoping—”

“You snooped through my computer?”

“No, Tara did.” He glanced up, then back to his notes. “I doubt she had any particular curiosity about your browsing habits. I simply needed to know where your thoughts were taking you the day before your accident.”

She bit down her retort. It was a gross invasion of privacy, but she trusted Lucien’s assistant not to snoop. Tara was a bright young thing, but she was particularly focused. If you set her on a task, she rarely deviated.

“Does she still have my computer?” Makeda didn’t know if she’d taken any notes on her laptop, but if she had, the files would be password protected.

“No.”

“Have her send it to… wherever we’re going.”

“You won’t be able to use it in Bahir Dar.”

Everything in her stopped. “We’re going to Ethiopia?”

He looked up, frowning. “Is that really surprising? You’re under my aegis now. You need to meet Saba.”

Yes, but…

“Ethiopia is landlocked.” And she was a water vampire. She tried not to panic.

Immediate understanding colored his features. “That is true. However, it does have numerous lakes. Lake Tana has a number of islands, many of which are inhabited. Two of which are inhabited only by my mother’s people.”

“And that’s where we’re going?”

“Yes. One of the islands is mine, and I keep a lab there. It’s not luxurious, but it’s completely self-sustained. Solar power and an independent water system. We’ll be able to work without humans.”

Makeda had nothing to say. She’d never worked alone, even when she worked solo on projects. “How will we—”

“Why don’t you save your questions until we get there?” he asked. “You may find you don’t have as many as you think.”

Message received. Shut up and only ask questions if you absolutely have to.

Lovely.

She lay back down and concentrated on using her amnis to dampen her senses. She muffled her hearing and taste. She observed the feeling of the scrubs she was still wearing, concentrating on what the seams felt like pressing against her skin. It didn’t hurt; she was simply more cognizant of the details. Taking that knowledge, she focused her mind on softening her awareness of the fibers pressing into her skin.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

She blinked her eyes and noticed that Lucien was watching her.

“The seams on my clothing. I think they may have used a synthetic thread to sew in the labels.”

He frowned. “There will be other clothing on the island for you. It will be traditional.”

Traditional clothing was likely to be the loose dresses her mother still wore around the house or for formal family events. Loose dresses would probably be as comfortable or more comfortable than scrubs.

“Traditional clothing will be fine,” Makeda said. “As long as the fibers are natural. My skin seems to sense synthetics more acutely than natural fibers.”

“I’ll make a note to tell them.”

“No humans?” she asked.

“No, I’ve never wanted humans too close to the lab. There is a sister island nearby where my brother lives. It has more communication and a satellite dish. My mother’s humans have always lived there and gone back and forth between the two, but I’ve messaged ahead. They know not to come to the island until I tell them otherwise.”

“Is there refrigeration?”

“If you’re thinking about blood, don’t worry about having enough. My brother’s people will feed us. Once the first six weeks have passed, we’ll begin to supplement human blood with cattle. It’s mostly what I drink when I’m there.”

“The Mursi people in the Omo Valley traditionally drink cattle blood and milk,” Makeda mused. “They bleed a cow once a month, but they rarely kill one.”

“They probably descended from my mother’s people at some point.”

“Do you think it’s where vampirism came from?” she asked. “Human blood drinking?”

“I don’t know, though I’ve often wondered the same thing. I’m fairly sure Saba’s human tribe originated in the lower Omo Valley or near it because of her scarification. It’s similar to some the tribes still practice. Of course, she’s thousands of years older than they are. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so.”

Makeda fell silent and thought about the years stretching before her.

Endless years. She would never grow old. She would never lose her mental or physical strength. She would never develop disease. She’d never even catch a cold.

And she’d never see the sun.

She’d never have a child of her own.

She would watch everyone she’d loved in life die. Her parents she expected one day, but her sisters?

Her adored nieces and nephews?

Her friends.

Her colleagues.

Every patient she’d ever treated would likely die before her unless her life was ended by violence. Makeda would exist in a shadow world the sun never touched where human lives were barely seasons. If she thought about it too closely, she might just go mad.