"No," I said, getting to my feet. "No, you tell me what Damian meant." Neither spoke.
"Tell me!" I screamed it into Asher's calm face.
He just stared at me, face as closed and impassive as a doll's.
"Dammit, one of you tell me what Damian meant. How could he drink away his own corruption?"
"If ... " Damian started.
"No," Asher said, pointing a finger at him.
"You are not my master," Damian said. "I must answer."
"Shut up, Asher," I said. "Shut the f**k up and let him talk."
"Would you have her risk all for you?" Asher asked.
"It does not have to be her. Only someone with more than human blood," Damian said.
"Tell me," I said, "now."
Damian spoke in a rushed whisper, voice edged with pain. "If I drank blood from one powerful ... enough. I might be able ... " He shuddered, struggling, then continued in a voice that was weaker than just a moment before. "Might be able to take in enough power to ... cure myself."
"But if the one he takes blood from is not strong enough mystically to take the corruption into himself, then they will die as Damian is dying now," Asher said.
"I'm sorry," Jason said, "but count me out."
"Me, too," Zane said.
Jamil was across the room hugging his arms. He just shook his head.
Cherry knelt by the bed. She said nothing, eyes huge, face terrified.
I finally turned back to Asher "It has to be me. I can't ask anyone else to take the risk."
Asher grabbed the back of my hair in a movement so fast I hadn't seen it coming. He twisted my face back to look at Damian. "Is this how you want to die, Anita? Is it? Is it!"
I spoke through gritted teeth. "Let go of me, Asher. Now!"
He released me slowly. "Don't do this, Anita. Please, don't. The risk is too great."
"He's right," Damian's voice came in a bare whisper, so low I was surprised I could hear it at all. "You could cure me but kill ... yourself."
The rot had spread up his arms and was gliding like some malignant force underneath his collarbones. His chest was like glowing ivory, and I could feel his heart thudding in his chest. I could feel it like a second heartbeat in my own head. A vampire's heart didn't always beat, but it was beating now.
I was so scared I could taste something flat and metallic in my mouth. My fingertips tingled with the desire to run. I couldn't stay in this room and watch Damian melt down into a stinking puddle, but part of my brain was screaming at me to run. Run somewhere far away where I wouldn't have to watch and I certainly wouldn't have to let those rotting hands touch me.
I shook my head. I stared at Damian, not at the rotting flesh, but at his face, his eyes. I stared into those shining green eyes like bits of emerald fire. It was ironic that as parts of him corrupted and slothed away, that what was left had become its most beautiful. His skin was polished ivory with a depth of light like some white jewel. His hair seemed to glow like spun rubies, and those eyes, those emerald eyes ... I stared at him, made myself see him.
I swept my hair to one side, exposing my neck. "Do it." I dropped my hand, and the hair moved back to hide my neck.
"Anita," he said.
"Do it, Damian, do it. Now, please, before I lose my nerve."
He crawled to me. He swept the hair aside with a hand gone blackened flesh and bone. He left a trail of something heavy and thick on my shoulder. I could feel that thickness sliding down my shirt like a snail. I concentrated on the soft glow of his skin, the imperfect slope of his nose where someone centuries ago had broken that perfect profile.
But it wasn't enough. I turned my head to one side so he wouldn't have to touch me more than necessary. I saw his head tense for the strike and I closed my eyes. It was sharp like needles and it didn't get better. Damian wasn't strong enough to roll me with his eyes. There would be no magic to take away the pain.