"I saw the tracks. You left one hell of a trail of blood."
That explained why he wasn't further along in his healing, he thought grimly. He'd been losing the blood as quickly as he could consume it. There were probably so many burst veins in his legs they couldn't close quick enough to prevent it. It meant he'd need a hell of a lot more blood. The best bet was probably to soak him in a tub of it.
"Russell and Francis are getting rid of the trail and taking care of the car," Bricker informed him. "They'd just finished their shift when I was leaving, so I recruited them to come help."
Cale grunted again.
"There were two sets of footprints. Who did you get to carry you out here?"
"Mortals," Cale managed to get out.
"Where are the bodies?" Bricker asked dryly, bending to slip his arms under him.
Cale just groaned in agony as Bricker lifted him off the ground.
"Don't worry, buddy," Bricker said sympathetically. "There's blood in the SUV and I'll have you back at the house in no time.""Alex," Cale managed to get out as they headed out of the trees.
"She's at the house. She's fine. A little crazy, maybe," he added with amusement. "But fine."
Cale would have liked to ask what that meant but just didn't have the energy for it. His eyes drifted closed and he fell gratefully into unconsciousness.
Chapter Fifteen
Alex glanced in the mirror as she washed her handsand paused as she saw her reflection. She looked utterly ridiculous with the foil over her head ... and it hadn't even worked. She ripped the silver cap off. Between that and her attempt to "spoon" him to death, it was a wonder Bricker hadn't killed himself laughing, she thought with disgust as she tossed the foil in the garbage. She was definitely a bad Buffy.
Sighing, Alex dried her hands and forced herself to return to the bedroom. She really would have liked to hide away in the small room forever, but it wouldn't accomplish much.
Marguerite was seated in one of two chairs at the opposite end of the room. She smiled when Alex appeared, and then patted the arm of the chair next to hers. "Come sit down."
Alex didn't move. "I'd really rather not".
"Oh, come now," she chided. "I don't bite."
Alex snorted. "You're a vampire."
"No, I'm not," Marguerite assured her solemnly. "I am an immortal."
She glanced at her uncertainly. "What is that?"
"You'll have to come over here to find out," she said firmly. "I do not wish to shout across the room."
Alex hesitated another moment before moving reluctantly to the chair. Squeezing herself into the far side of it, as far away from Marguerite as she could get, she eyed her warily and waited.
"First of all, you have nothing to fear," Marguerite assured her quietly. "No one here would hurt you. We do not, and in fact are not allowed to, feed on mortals. We consume bagged blood."
Alex felt some of the tension seeping from her, but then stiffened again and said, "Sam-"
"We were not hurting her," Marguerite assured her firmly. "You must have noticed how she was thrashing and convulsing on the bed. We were trying to keep her still to prevent her causing harm to herself." She tilted her head and added, "Surely you saw the love and concern on Mortimer's face? He would never allow harm to come to her."
Alex frowned. She had noticed, and it had confused her at the time. "What's wrong with her?"
Marguerite hesitated for a moment, and then said, "I think before I explain that, you need to understand who and what we are."
"I know what you are," Alex said stiffly. "You're vampires."
"We are not vampires," Marguerite said firmly. "We are immortals."
"You have fangs," Alex said dryly, and then frowned and added. "At least, Cale did."