Blood Secrets - By Jeannie Holmes Page 0,47
her eyes and sighed when the darkness remained unchanged. She slipped on her sunglasses, not because she needed them, but because she felt weird staring into nothing.
“We need to be certain there isn’t an underlying cause that—”
“The underlying cause is psychic trauma.” She heard the emergency room treatment door open and the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon announced Varik’s return. “Your scans and tests aren’t going to find diddly shit.”
The doctor huffed loudly and seemed to be preparing his next argument when Varik cut him off. “Save your breath, Doc. You’re not going to win with her. Believe me.”
Alex flipped him off, earning a laugh from Varik and another huff from the doctor.
“When can we expect her eyesight to return?” Varik asked.
“Could be anywhere from hours to days. In the meanwhile, if you should develop any headaches or eye pain, come back to the ER right away.”
“Understood,” Alex said.
“How’s your pain now?”
“Better after that nurse shot me in the ass.” Ever since she’d returned from the Shadowlands, she’d felt as though she’d fallen from a great height and her body was a giant bruise. Whatever drug the nurse had given her dulled the hurt to a tolerable ache. Too bad it wouldn’t last more than an hour or two due to Alex’s high vampire metabolism.
“It’s probably best if you aren’t left alone for the next few hours, at least until the medication wears off. Will someone be around to help you?”
Varik answered before Alex could respond. “Don’t worry. She’ll be well supervised. I’ll see to it personally.”
Alex frowned in the direction of his voice. Vampires were fiercely independent, even in childhood, and a blind vampire was often viewed as a burden both on their family and on the community. Long ago, any disabled vampires, whether caused by the rare birth defect or through artificial means, were killed in order to preserve the community’s hidden status from humans.
Alex was already facing a potential death sentence because she’d turned rogue. Damian’s reinstatement didn’t change the fact that she still must face the Tribunal, nor did her blindness. In fact, her current self-made predicament would be viewed as further evidence of her recklessness and would undoubtedly weigh heavily against her.
The room’s door scraped open, startling her. She heard retreating footsteps and the hiss of hydraulics as the door closed. The soft scuff of shoes on linoleum and the intensified smell of sandalwood and cinnamon told her Varik remained and had moved closer. She reached for him and was surprised when he pressed a warm cylinder into her hand. “What’s this?”
“Fresh blood. It’ll help the healing process.”
“Where did you get it?”
He chuckled. “We’re in a hospital and you have to ask that question? What kind of drugs did they give you? I think they’re affecting your brain.”
“What I meant was—”
“I know what you meant, and no, I didn’t steal it or bite anyone. I found a registered donor who volunteered to have some drawn by one of the nurses.” He nudged her hands toward her mouth. “Now be a good girl and make the superyummy treat disappear.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ve never done it on a bed with wheels. Could be fun.”
Alex let his attempt at humor slide and drank the cooling blood. The thick liquid reminded her of licking a salt-encrusted spoon—brackish with a metallic edge—as it coated her tongue and slid down her throat. Flashes of memory from the donor’s life sparked in her mind: the rush of freedom that came from riding a bicycle for the first time without training wheels, a profound sense of loss as a hearse passed on its way into a small cemetery, the soaring joy of seeing a newly born son lying at his mother’s breast.
The memories faded as quickly as they appeared, leaving lingering warmth that spread throughout her body and made her fingertips tingle.
Varik removed the cylinder from her hand. “Feel better now?”
She nodded. “What about you? How are you feeling?”
“Fine. You want to tell me about your little adventure with the Dollmaker?”
“I told you all there was to tell on the way here.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Somehow I ended up in what I’m assuming was his house. There were dolls everywhere. My dad showed up. They fought.”
“Then you and Bernard jumped through a window and you woke up in the salvage yard.”
“Blind as a fucking bat.”
“You got a good look at the Dollmaker?”
“Tall, blond, and creepy.”
“But you could identify him?”
“As soon as I can see again, yeah, I can do that.”
“Good, because