size.»
The boy's eyes widened, as the truth was no doubt obvious: Disconnected as Vishous was now,
there was nothing he could not stomach, no deed he could not accomplish, no means he would
not call forth to reach an end.
He was as his father had always been, naught but soulless calculation covered by skin. The son
had learned his lesson.
Chapter Twelve
When Jane came to again, it was out of a terrifying dream, one in which something that didn't
exist was in fact alive and well and in the same room with her: She saw her patient's sharp canine
teeth and his mouth at the wrist of a woman and him drinking from a vein.
The hazy, off-kilter images lingered and panicked her like a tarp that moved because there was
something under it. Something that would hurt you.
Something that would bite you.
Vampire.
She did not get afraid all that often, but she was scared as she sat up slowly. Looking around the
spartan bedroom, she realized with dread that the kidnapping part of things hadn't been a dream.
The rest of it, though? She wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't, because her memory had
so many holes in it. She remembered operating on the patient. Remembered admitting him to the
SICU. Remembered the men abducting her. But after that? Everything was spotty.
As she took a deep breath, she smelled food and saw there was a tray set up next to her chair.
Lifting a silver lid off the… Jesus, that was a really nice plate. Imari, like her mother's had been.
Frowning, she noted the meal was gourmet: lamb with baby new potatoes and summer squash. A
slice of chocolate cake and a pitcher and a glass were off to the side.
Had they kidnapped Wolfgang Puck as well, for kicks and giggles?
She looked over at her patient.
In the glow from a lamp on the bedside table, he was lying still on black sheets, his eyes closed,
his black hair against the pillow, his heavy shoulders showing just above the covers. His
respiration was slow and even, his face had color in it, and there was no sheen of fever sweat on
him. Although his brows were drawn and his mouth was nothing more than a slash, he looked…
revived.
Which was impossible, unless she'd been out cold for a week straight.
Jane stood up stiffly, stretched her arms over her head, and arched to crack her spine back into
place. Moving silently, she went over and took the man's pulse. Even. Strong.
Shit. None of this was logical. None of it. Patients who had been shot and stabbed and who had
crashed twice, who then had had open-heart surgery, did not rebound like this. Ever.
Vampire.
Oh, shut up with that.
She glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table and saw the date. Friday. Friday? Christ, it
was Friday and ten o'clock in the morning. She'd operated on him a mere eight hours ago, and he
looked as if he'd had weeks of healing time.
Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe she'd fallen asleep on the train down to Manhattan and
would wake up as they pulled into Perm Station. She'd have an awkward laugh, get a cup of
coffee, and go to her interview at Columbia as planned blaming it all on vending cuisine.
She waited. Hoped a bump in the tracks would lurch her into waking up.
Instead, the digital clock just kept churning through the minutes.
Right. Back to the shit-this-is-reality idea. Feeling utterly alone and scared to death, Jane walked
over to the door, tried the knob, and found it locked. Surprise, surprise. She was tempted to bang
on the thing, but why bother? No one on the other side was going to let her free, and besides, she
didn't want any of them to know she was awake.
Casing the place was the directive: The windows were covered by some kind of barrier on the far
side of the glass, the panel so thick there wasn't even a glow of day coming through it. Door was
obviously a no-go. Walls were solid. No phone. No computer.
Closet was nothing but black clothes, big boots, and a fireproof cabinet. With a lock on it.
The bathroom didn't offer any escape. There was no window and no vent big enough for her to
squeeze through.
She came back out. Man, this wasn't a bedroom. It was a cell with a mattress.
And this was not a dream.
Her adrenal glands got kicking, her heart going gidda-wild in her chest. She told herself that the
police must be looking for her. Had to be. With all the security cameras and personnel at the
hospital, someone must have seen them take her and
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