She tucked a shaking hand in her pocket the same time Bastien reached into his own and drew out the hypodermics containing the tranquilizer that should have been in her hand by now.

He had taken them? When? “What are you . . . ?”

Placing all three plastic needle guards in his mouth, he pulled them off with his teeth and spat them on the floor.

“Bastien . . .”

Drawing his arm back he shoved the needles into his neck and depressed the plungers.

“What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?” she demanded shrilly.

“We have to see if this”—he held up the possible antidote—“is going to work.”

Alarm shot to the surface as she realized what was happening. Cliff wasn’t having a psychotic break. Bastien was testing the damned serum.

“You can’t do this!” She intensified her struggles, but found them ineffective when pitted against a vampire who already held her immobile. “Cliff, don’t let him do this. Please!”

“It’s his choice, Dr. Lipton.”

Bastien swayed as the triple dose of tranquilizer went to work.

“It could kill him!”

Cliff said nothing.

“Bastien, please! Don’t do this.”

Bastien staggered back a step and nearly lost his balance. Raising the auto-injector with the antidote, he shoved it into his neck on the side opposite the needle marks.

Panic seized Melanie, robbing her of the ability to move, to struggle, to call out. She couldn’t seem to do anything but watch in horror as each second passed.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Bastien tipped to one side and started to fall over, but caught himself by tripping over to the sofa and bracing a hand against it.

Nine. Ten.

Releasing the auto-injector, he let it fall to the floor.

“Well?” Cliff asked, all of the worry she couldn’t see in his face there in his voice.

“I don’t think it’s working.” He closed his eyes. “All I feel is the tranquilizer weighing me down.” His words slowed and slurred.

Melanie hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t considered that there might be no reaction. That it wouldn’t do a damned thing.

She patted Cliff ’s arm. “You can let me go now.”

Giving her shoulders a soft squeeze, he released his hold and stepped back. “I’m sorry. Bastien asked for my help. After all he’s done for me, I couldn’t say no even though it scared the hell out of me.”

She nodded and started forward.

Bastien’s knees buckled.

Cliff leapt over the sofa and caught him. Looping one of Bastien’s arms around his shoulders, Cliff guided him around to sit on the sofa.

“You don’t feel anything at all?” Melanie asked.

He shook his head. “Do you have any more?”

“Bastien—”

“Get it. Maybe the dose isn’t strong enough.”

He leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees, and let his head droop.

A thousand thoughts racing through her mind, Melanie left the apartment and dashed across the hall to the lab.

“Everything okay, Doc?” one of the guards outside Cliff ’s room called out behind her as she swiped her card and entered the security code with trembling fingers.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? Because you look a little . . .”

The buzz sounded.

Melanie threw the door open and hurriedly retrieved the other two auto-injectors.

It hadn’t worked. The stimulant hadn’t worked. Why hadn’t it worked? She hadn’t been exaggerating when she had said she wouldn’t use it on a comatose elephant. Any human injected with it would die. Quickly.

But Bastien had felt nothing.

Closing her door, she walked swiftly to Cliff ’s apartment.

“Rattled,” the guard said.

“What?” she asked absently.

“You look a little rattled. Are you sure—?”

“I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “It’s just been one of those days. Nights.”

His expression remained doubtful. “Well, we’re here if you need us.”

“Thank you, Mark. I appreciate that.”

Once inside the apartment, she closed the door and circled the sofa. “Any change?”

Cliff shook his head.

Bastien raised his head and held out his hand.

When Melanie started to remove the cap for him, he stayed her.

“I have to be able to do it myself.”

She handed him the auto-injector.

His fingers were clumsy as he removed the green cap, then pushed the auto-injector into his thigh and held it for ten seconds.

Melanie held her breath.

“Anything?” Cliff asked.

“I think so.” He held out his hand. “Give me another one.”

“You need to give that one more time. It could—”

“I won’t have more time in a fight. Give me another one.”

She handed him the last one.

He had no difficulty uncapping this one.

Despite her concern, she felt a twinge of hope.

He pressed this one into his thigh, too. Held it for ten seconds.

He was right. Ten seconds was too long. Now that she had a better idea of what dosage she should use—an insanely strong dosage—she could cut that time in half.

Bastien tossed the auto-injector on the coffee table and stood. “Okay. It’s getting better. I don’t feel so sluggish now.” Nudging Melanie aside, he stepped away from the sofa and started meandering around the room.

After all of the anxiety that had riddled her over testing the new drug, she couldn’t help but find this a bit anticlimactic.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Cliff blurred and shot across the room, tackling Bastien and slamming him into the far wall.

Melanie’s heart stopped.

Bastien grunted, then flew into motion.

As Melanie watched, eyes wide, mouth gaping, artwork crashed to the floor, along with piles of drywall. The warring vampire and immortal were indistinguishable as they zigzagged with astonishing speed around the living room, smashing furniture and trashing the apartment to a chorus of grunts, thuds, and curses.

Melanie looked around frantically for some way to stop this. She couldn’t alert the guards. Though, if this racket continued, she wouldn’t have to. As much as they loathed Bastien, they would probably just yank her out of the way and open fire, not caring who they hit or how many times they hit them. And Melanie didn’t want either man hurt.

She jumped out of the way when the sofa splintered.

Had the vampires been allowed fully functional kitchens (too many sharp and blunt objects that could be used as weapons), she would’ve gone old school, grabbed a frying pan, and knocked some sense into the two. Aside from that . . .

Her gaze fell upon the bar stools. The vampires were allowed snacks and cereal and the makings for sandwiches, as well as a bar at which they could eat them.

Melanie ducked as the battling duo flew past overhead. Racing over to the bar, she picked up a stool—wooden with a black padded seat—and headed for the center of the room. The next time the writhing, growling, nebulous mass neared her, she concentrated on anticipating their direction and swung. Hard.

Thud! The seat went flying as the wooden stool broke apart, leaving one long leg in her hand.

Bastien slowed to a halt, bent over, and grabbed his head. “Ahh! Shit, that hurt!”

Cliff halted, too, then ducked as Melanie swung the last leg. “Wait! Don’t stake me!”

“Get back, Cliff,” she warned, heart racing, hands clutching the wooden leg so tightly she was surprised splinters didn’t break off and pierce her skin. “Just stay back.”

She eased between the two men, her back to Bastien.

Cliff ’s eyes glowed bright amber. Holding out his hands in a take it easy gesture, he retreated. “Don’t hit me. I’m not crazed.”

She shook her head, not taking her eyes off him. “Your eyes are glowing.” She would have to swing as soon as he blurred. And as close as he was, she still might not be able to hit him.

“If my eyes are glowing, it’s because I’m having fun.”

“I bet you are.”

“Not like that. Not like you’re thinking. This is the most exercise I’ve had since you performed all of those strength and endurance tests on me a couple of years ago. It just felt good to be active again.”

“Active? You attacked Bastien!”

“I told him to,” Bastien spoke behind her.

She risked looking at him over her shoulder. A large red lump graced the center of his forehead. “What?”

“I told him to attack me.”

She lowered the wooden leg and stared at him. The lump in his forehead darkened with a bruise, then began to heal and fade. The fear that had sent adrenaline coursing through Melanie’s veins turned to icy fury. “You what?” she roared.

Uncertainty furrowing his brow, Bastien looked at Cliff. “Should I tell her again?”

“I wouldn’t,” the vampire advised and wisely took another step backward.

Bastien met her gaze. “I needed to know if I could hold my own in a fight after using the antidote. If my breathing would be affected or my heart . . . how long it would take to regain my strength and speed.”

Unbelievable! Melanie threw the wooden leg down. “So you planned all of this?”

“Yes,” Bastien answered.

“Both of you.”

“Yes.”

“Without consulting me.”

He shared another look with Cliff. “Yes.”

“Well, next time send me a fucking memo first!” Melanie shouted, incensed. Here she stood, shaking, thinking Cliff had experienced one of the sudden violent episodes that had begun to afflict Joe, that Bastien would hurt him or even destroy him, or that Cliff would hurt or destroy Bastien while he was still weakened from the drug . . . and the two men in question looked like a couple of kids who had been wrestling on the floor in front of the TV while watching Saturday morning cartoons!