“I’ve got nothing,” Eidolon admitted. “Your blood hasn’t revealed any clues. And this disease is like nothing I’ve ever seen. This is a hellfuck of Sheoulic proportions.”
Oh, goodie, she’d caused a hellfuck of a plague. Lore always said that when she did something, she did it well. She’d worn his words like a badge of honor, but she just couldn’t find the pride in what she’d done this time.
“Usually everyone I infect develops something unique… no one dies from the same thing. Have the wargs you’ve seen had different symptoms?”
Eidolon leaned back in his chair. “Everything has been identical to the first victim, from the signs and symptoms, to the way their capillaries dissolved, leading to internal bleeding and ultimately, cardiac arrest. Whatever you did to the first warg has been passed to the wargs he came into contact with, though the mode of transmission is still unknown.”
She frowned. “Conall came into contact with him, so why hasn’t he gotten sick?”
“I’m guessing his vampire half is giving him immunity or resistance.”
“Maybe there’s something in his blood that can help create a vaccine?”
A small smile tipped up one corner of Eidolon’s mouth. “You’re wasting your talents as an assassin. You should be working here.”
That was a joke and a half. “I kill, brother. That’s where my talents lie.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said, in a voice that dripped with moral superiority and judgment.
“You don’t know anything about me or my situation,” she snapped. “So don’t you dare tell me what doesn’t have to be.”
Though his expression didn’t give anything away, he tapped his fingers wildly on his desktop. “You’re overreacting a little—”
“Overreacting? Bite me, asshole. The next time you start a plague that threatens to take out an entire species, you see how you react.” She slammed her palms on his desk. He didn’t even flinch, just kept up that maddening calm. “All I know how to do is f**k and kill, and now I’ve diseased not just one warg, but possibly an entire population. So tell me how I’m supposed to react.”
“Is this true?” The deep, booming voice had both Sin and Eidolon wrenching their heads around to the doorway, where Conall and another, older male stood.
Neither looked happy.
Eidolon glanced at his watch. “Valko. You’re early.”
The red-haired male snarled and stalked into the office, his glare murderous, and Sin had a sinking feeling that he was a warg. “Is this true?” He jabbed a finger at her. “Is she the cause of the disease that is wiping out our people?”
Eidolon turned to her. “Sin, why don’t you come back later?” It wasn’t a request.
Swallowing dryly, she nodded, but when she tried to leave, the warg blocked her. “I don’t think so.”
Eidolon exploded out of his chair, eyes gold, teeth bared. So her brother wasn’t always the cool, collected guy he probably liked to think he was. Good to know.
“Let her go. Now.” His voice was a lethal drawl, and in that moment, she knew she’d seriously underestimated Eidolon. He was as dangerous as any of her brothers—maybe the most dangerous, because with him, you didn’t see the ax until it was at your throat.
There was a torturous silence, which struck Sin as odd, because the tension crackling in the air should have made noise. Eventually… like, when her lungs were about to explode from her held breath, the warg stepped aside. Unfortunately, that meant she had to face Conall now. He’d remained in the hallway, and as she scooted past him, he grabbed her elbow.
Eidolon’s growl followed, but she raised her hand to cut him off. “It’s okay,” she said, but she knew he was going to keep an eye on things.
Conall’s eyes flashed silver daggers. “What have you done?”
“Didn’t you hear? I’ve started a plague that looks like it’ll wipe out the whole sorry lot of you.”
“Why?”
He made it sound as if she’d done it on purpose. Fine. She could play his game. “For fun. Why else?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, and she could hear the scrape of enamel on enamel. All that grinding was probably terrible for his fangs. “Did you infect me?”
“You’re very indignant for a guy who bet five hundred bucks that he could get in my pants.”
He seized her by the shoulders and shook her. “Answer me!”
She smiled sweetly. “If I had, you’d already be dead. And if you don’t remove your hands, that’s exactly what will happen.”
His expression darkened even more, and she resisted the urge to shiver as he leaned in so his fangs scratched an earlobe. “Pray no one I know dies.”
“I would be careful about threatening me,” she said, jerking out of his grip.
“Why? Because your brothers will come after me?”
“No. Because I will.”
With that, she stalked off, head high, but inside, her stomach was churning. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just made an enemy out of the wrong man.
* * *
Conall watched Sin walk away, his gut roiling with a mix of emotions. Anger, lust, disappointment. He’d wanted her—hell, he still did—but she was clearly much more than a female who had fascinated him with her confidence and humor.
She was a cold-blooded killer.
He waited until she’d taken a corner and disappeared before entering E’s office, where the doctor was still standing, his body coiled as though he’d been ready to tear Conall’s head off. It took a full thirty seconds for Eidolon to turn his attention back to Valko, who was practically boiling with rage.
“I want that female’s head,” he snapped, and Conall winced, because clearly, the senior Warg Council member had no idea Sin was Eidolon’s sister.
“Touch her,” Eidolon said in a disturbingly reasonable voice, “and I’ll make sure you’re dead by the next morning.”
Conall brought his hand down on Valko’s shoulder. “Check up. We’ll deal with her later.” He gave his fellow Council member a squeeze, a silent message that right now, antagonizing Eidolon was not a bright idea.
Valko tensed, but the male wasn’t stupid, and he inclined his head in a brief nod. “I want to know what you plan to do about this plague.”
Dammit. Conall had warned the warg to not treat Eidolon as if the doctor was his servant, but there he went, and the demon’s eyes glazed over with ice.
“I’m doing all I can—”
“It’s not enough,” Valko barked. “Wargs are dying. The disease has spread to three continents and fifteen countries—”
“Maybe you could do better?” Eidolon suggested. “No doubt your medical training is superior to mine.”
Conall would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire.
Valko tensed even more, becoming a steel rod. “Apologies,” he gritted out. “But I’m sure you can understand my concern.”
“Of course I can.” Eidolon took a seat. “But there’s only so much I can do. The disease spreads so fast that putting out a call for quarantine hasn’t been effective, and I haven’t had any luck isolating mode of transmission. Direct contact seems to be a definite, but I don’t know if the pathogen is also airborne or transmitted by indirect contact. And as far as I can tell, no one who has come into contact with the infected victims has been immune.”
“Except me,” Conall said.
“Yes, but likely it’s your vampire blood that’s allowing for immunity. We’re experimenting with the possibility of using your natural antibodies to work up an immunization, but even if that’s possible, it could take years to come up with something usable in pure wargs.”
Conall cursed. This thing was moving so fast that he didn’t think his species had years. “What can we do to help?”
Eidolon blew out a breath. “Spread the word about this. I suggest that packs stay isolated for now. Keep away from other wargs. And if you hear about anyone not contracting the disease after contact with an infected warg, I need to know about it. Immediately.”
“You got it.”
Valko wanted to say something about Sin; Conall knew it. But in an uncharacteristic display of restraint, he thanked Eidolon and strode out of the office. When Conall followed, the doctor cleared his throat.
“Hold up, dhampire.”
Shit. Conall swung back around. “What’s up?”
“What’s going on between you and my sister?”
I f**ked her, and man, it was good. “Nothing.”
Doubt put lines around Eidolon’s eyes, but he nodded. “Keep it that way.”
Conall didn’t say anything. He merely joined Valko in the hall. They walked in silence to the Harrowgate, and once the gate closed on them, Valko punched the symbols that would get them to Warg Council headquarters in Moscow.
When they stepped out, Valko took Conall by the arm. “I want to know everything there is to know about that female who brought this down on us. Whether Eidolon finds a cure or not, she will pay for what she’s done. And I want you to see to it.”
* * *
As soon as Conall and Valko were gone, Eidolon propped his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands. This had gotten out of control and beyond his ability to handle by himself.
Unfortunately, pretty much every demon doctor he knew of worked at UGH, and those who didn’t were surgeons or general practitioners. He needed infectious-disease specialists working on this problem.
And, actually, they were. He’d been watching the news, keeping up on the latest medical alerts, and the disease had caught the attention of human doctors.
Anatomically, wargs were no different than humans, and physicians wouldn’t pick up on the fact that the people they were treating turned into bloodthirsty beasts three nights out of the month. So yes, they were seeing a few cases of this mysterious new disease, but they would never in a million years figure out what connected them.
Still, anything they learned in their research would help Eidolon.
Just not quickly enough.
As much as he hated to do it, it was time to call in the troops.
He picked up the phone and dialed Kynan. “Hey, man, it’s E. I need you to get me in touch with your Army buddy, Arik.” Arik was also Runa’s brother, but Eidolon didn’t want to bother her right now, and besides, Kynan had worked with the guy for years and knew more about the military’s secret paranormal unit than anyone.
Eidolon could hear Kynan suck air. “Jesus… E, I don’t think getting involved with the R-XR would be a good idea.”
Eidolon didn’t either. “I don’t have a choice. This were-wolf disease has to be stopped, but I don’t have the resources to do that.”
“And you’re hoping the Army will help?”
“They do operate USAMRIID, and you can’t tell me that the R-XR doesn’t have contacts within the organization. You know damned good and well that half the para-normal unit’s function is to find underworld substances and biological elements to use in warfare. They’d definitely be working with someone inside the Army’s Institute of Infectious Disease.”
Kynan’s curse blistered the airwaves. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll contact Arik.”
Eidolon hung up, wondering if he’d done the right thing. He had no doubt that the military could help. He just hoped the price would be something he could pay.
Twenty-eight
“Beat you there.” Idess darted out of the Harrowgate and raced toward her house. Lore’s curse followed her, accompanied by heavy footsteps that were closing the distance between them.
“Idess.” His shout held a predatory, ominous warning. “When I catch you, I’m taking you where we land.”
And that was supposed to be a threat? “When? If,” she called out.
Laughing, she picked up the pace, dodging tree branches and leaping over tree roots that wove veins into the worn path to her villa. She risked a glance over her shoulder and screamed in delight. He was nearly upon her. Intense hunger burned in his dark eyes, and she suddenly felt what it must be like to be a rabbit running from a wolf.
Somehow she scrounged up one last burst of speed, enough to make it to her front door. He caught her there, pinning her against the wood with his big body. At some point he’d lost the glove he still wore, even though she regularly drained his death power to give him temporary bits of freedom.
One hand cupped her breast and the other gripped her hip and her entire body hummed with anticipation.
“I warned you.” His voice was breathless from the run and with need, the latter of which she could sense all the way to her soul.
She lifted her leg to put her aching sex in contact with his erection, and he hissed in a breath. “Right here against the door?”
“Yes.” His sizzling gaze challenged her as his fingers found her jeans buttons. But she wasn’t going to stop him. In fact, she nearly wept with relief at the soft yet urgent rasp of his knuckles brushing her skin as he tore open her fly. “You should wear skirts.”
“With no panties?”
A wicked smile tipped up his mouth, robbing her of her ability to speak. “With panties. That way I can rip them off with my teeth.”
The words, the images, were dizzying.
“And if I’m in too much of a hurry to take them off,” he said, as he drove his hand down the front of her pants, “I can move them aside.” Which he proved by tugging the silk to the side and pushing two fingers into her core.