"Well, h.e.l.l. She does it on purpose, y'know. Never the same spot, but always by the fence, and I've ruined more than one pair of sneakers thanks to her."

"Jess," I said, "I can't discuss proper p.o.o.p etiquette with a horse."

Bored with the conversation, Jessica stared at the man sitting on the couch, apparently content to watch the big-screen TV.

"Hey, son of a monkey b.u.t.t, why are you here again?"

Johnny turned his baby blues on his host. His lips. .h.i.tched into a s.e.xy grin. "TV."

"Captain Obvious," she muttered.

"Mo chroi," said Patrick in a very patient voice, "shall we turn to the business at hand?"

I felt the power of Patrick's stare on me. I squirmed, feeling as though I'd been sighted by twin silver laser beams. "His name is Faustus?"

"Yes," I said. "And I still think sticking him in the laboratory was... was... a tramontane act."

"A what's-it?" asked Jessica.

"She thinks we were wrong to put him in the containment unit," clarified Lorcan.

"Oh." She looked at me, hands on her hips. "Hybrids don't have the ability for human speech. Stan said something about vocal cord corruption or... what?" She waved dismissively. "C'mon. It's our sweet little Evangeline, not Hitler. Sheesh."

"You might as well let me in on it," I said. "I met Faustus last night, too. Only he had two others with him. Did you capture them, too?"

Patrick studied me, looking like a math professor trying to figure out a troublesome equation. "When Lorcan contacted us, he failed to mention that you had been part of his reconnaissance."

"I wasn't. I was-" Searching for a rogue wolf. I smiled weakly. Think before you speak, Eva. Words unspoken are easier to swallow. Sage advice from my mother-I wished I'd remembered it five seconds earlier. Lor apparently wanted to keep me out of whatever was happening. I looked at him, hoping to figure out his motives. As usual, his expression was stoic. "Uh... er...

Lor didn't mention our meeting in the woods?"

"Now it's a meeting," said Jess. She threw her hands up and joined Johnny on the couch. "I married a vampire. A rich, s.e.xy vampire. Is my life easier? No. I'm a.s.s-deep in lycans, my mother isn't speaking to me, my kids want a dog-hey, was that CSI?

Go back. No, the other way. d.a.m.n it, Johnny, give me the remote."

He handed over the TV remote control.

Patrick touched my shoulder. "You're from the Family Romanov. You have the ability to glamour. Obviously your psychic powers are different now that you're a vampire. Rare is the Turn-blood who has your kind of abilities."

"You mean not everyone is a pet psychic?" I asked.

Jessica snickered.

"There is only one other vampire I know who has similar abilities," said Patrick.

"What's his name? Maybe we can compare notes."

"Koschei Romanov," said Lorcan. "The founder of your Family Romanov."

While I digested that bit of information, Lorcan turned to his brother. "I know what you're thinking. And I do not agree."

"She has a unique talent," Patrick countered. "And she may be able to help us. In fact, she is probably the only one who can."

"It's not fair to ask her."

"Oh, you are speaking for her? Are you claiming her as your sonuachar?"

Lorcan's mouth dropped open. Then he clenched his fists, his eyes molten silver with fury. "Go hifreann leal."

Patrick grinned. "If that's the case, dearthair, then you cannot speak for her."

"I have an idea," said Jessica as she popped up from the couch. "Why don't you stop talking about Eva like she's not here and ask her if she wants to help?" She rounded the couch and stood next to me. "Hey, feel free to tell 'em to go to h.e.l.l. They have this really outdated idea of chivalry. It's cute sometimes, but mostly it's annoying."

Patrick's gaze stayed on his brother. "Na glac pioc comhairle gan comhairle ban."

"Hmph! Is mink a bhris beal duine a shron." Lorcan relaxed, his fists uncurling, but his eyes were still ablaze.

"What did they say?" I asked Jessica.

"I don't speak Gaelic, but I do speak Patrick. It's a good bet that he said something placating yet sarcastic. He's good at that.

Mr. Patience sounded p.i.s.sed-so I'm going with 'f.u.c.k off.' " Jessica grinned at her husband and her brother-in-law. Then she looked at me, her eyes sparkling with amus.e.m.e.nt. She pointed toward the double doors that led to the living area. They were open, so we could see the large foyer, the ma.s.sive staircase, and the single door-which looked like it opened into a bank vault-underneath the stairs. "Here's the deal. We decked out almost the entire bas.e.m.e.nt in science stuff. Stan about had an o.r.g.a.s.m when we finished construction. If Linda didn't bring him meals, he'd forget to eat. Anyway, the lycan is there. He has developed a bad att.i.tude. I don't need to hear him say, 'I want to kill you' to get his meaning."

"The other two must have a hiding spot around here." Patrick rubbed a hand across his forehead as if warding off a headache, which was a human habit. Vampires didn't get headaches. "From the tests Stan has managed to do so far, we've confirmed he has the taint."

The Consortium had told everyone that the Wraith leader, Ron aka Ragnvaldr, had infused the blood from murdered lycanthropes into vampires suffering from the taint. Ron had discovered not the cure for the taint but a way to combine vampires with lycans. The effects had been unexpected and terrifying. The problem was that the creatures weren't always controllable.

In June, several of the mutants had attacked townspeople. Only one had survived, and only because Lorcan had Turned her. My undead heart squeezed at the thought that more of these hybrids were on the loose.

I looked at Lorcan and wondered how he'd been cured. He had been a big, hairy beast when he'd killed me. What had the Consortium done to rid Lor of the taint? Infused him with lycan blood, that's what.

"Why did it work for you?"

Lorcan didn't pretend that he didn't know what I was talking about. "I'm one of the oldest vampires in existence, so I had the ability and strength to withstand the process. I was drained of blood and I fasted for as long as I could. Then I was infused with special blood donated from live lycans."

"Special?" I asked, wondering which lycans had donated their blood for the experiment.

"Ever hear royalty and n.o.bility called 'bluebloods'? Well, royal lycans literally have different blood from common lycanthropes,"

said Jessica.

"Who donated the blood?" I asked, unable to quell the question.

Jessica looked at Patrick, who nodded consent.

"Damian, Darrius, and Drake are royals. They donated the blood to cure Lorcan and they're still donating blood for our attempts to create a cure for everyone.

"The Wraiths haven't figured out how Lor was cured-they just think they have. Stan's been experimenting with a formula using royal lycan blood to cure the taint, but it's a long way from working. Meanwhile, Ron the d.i.c.khead gets a sick thrill outta turning tainted vampires into rampaging lycans."

"He does more than that," said Patrick, grimacing. "He's creating minions to do his dirty work."

"How can you tell a regular lycan from a hybrid?"

"A true lycanthrope is a shape-shifter. He turns into a four-legged wolf. He has the ability to shift whenever he chooses. A hybrid is two-legged and hairy, like Bigfoot. He doesn't shift because he wants to-the lycanthrope blood changes him. He can't change back."

G.o.d, it sounded awful. Ron was truly evil to take a vampire already dying from the taint and make him spend his last moments on earth as a monster.

"You can help us prevent more suffering," said Patrick. "If we can find the other lycans, we can track Ron. We need to shut down his experiments, not only for the sake of Broken Heart but for all parakind.""You want me to psychically connect to homicidal werewolves?" Terror rippled up my spine. "I poked at their minds last night, but I didn't try to talk to them. Whoever mutated them didn't care about how much they suffered. It was a very painful process."

"That's unfortunate," said Patrick gently, "but not helpful. We need to know where they're hiding, how many more there are, and if the Wraiths are nearby."

"Tell her the rest." Lorcan moved around the couch until he stood next to his brother. "Tell her what's going to happen to the lycans."

"We can't reverse the process." Patrick grimaced. Jessica stepped into his embrace and he drew her against his chest. "Tainted vampires who are starved and then infused with dead lycan blood eventually go mad, either from the taint or from the further mutation of their bodies."

"If the taint doesn't destroy them," said Jessica, "then the lycan blood will."

I looked at Lorcan. "And that means..."

"We must kill them."

Chapter 9

"Oh, my G.o.d," I said. "You're going to kill Faustus?"

"We aren't saying that," protested Jessica, but she couldn't quite meet my eyes.

"Eva, will you help us?" asked Patrick.

I looked at Lorcan, though I hardly knew why. It wasn't like we were connected. He wasn't my friend, much less my mate-so why did it feel natural to want to confer with him about the decision?

"You must follow your conscience," he said.

"Who are you, Jiminy Cricket?" asked Jessica.

She rolled her eyes. "Eva, why don't you take a gander at the lab? If you get too freaked, we'll skip the Amazing Kreskin show."

By the time we got through all the security procedures and Stan's explanation of the laboratory experiments and systems, I was ready to gnaw on any available neck. I shouldn't have skipped breakfast. Hunger coupled with information overload was beginning to affect my mind and my body.

It took eye scans, fingerprints, and voice a.n.a.lysis of both Stan and Patrick to open the thick metal door that led to the prison ward. When it finally swung open, lights flickered on in the narrow hallway and I peeked inside.

Three large cells occupied either side. It was easy to see inside them; the front wall was floor-to-ceiling clear plastic. The remaining walls were bright white. Sticking out from the back part.i.tion was a long, thin white slab that I a.s.sumed was for sitting or sleeping. The whole place looked like something out of a science-fiction movie.

"If you're wondering how prisoners pee," said Jessica, "there's a little b.u.t.ton that opens up a toilet. Same goes for food distribution. Oxygen is pumped in and recycled through these filter things Stan invented." She pointed to the cell on the right.

"The plastic is half a foot thick and is resistant to everything-bullets, acid, claws, fists, fangs... you name it. But Stan used his freakish brain to incorporate sound. You can hear the prisoners and they can hear you."

I nodded, but I wasn't paying close attention. I could hear Stan's heart beating. h.e.l.l, my ears were so attuned to the one human in our midst, I swear I could hear the blood slogging through his veins. My fangs were trying to poke through, but I resisted.

The cells visible from my vantage point were empty, but if the noises coming from down the hall were any indication, at least one was occupied.

"I'll take her," said Lorcan. He placed his hand at the small of my back and, with no other choice, I allowed him to guide me down the narrow hallway.

The moment Faustus saw us, he went crazy. He smacked the clear plastic with fists and swiped it with claws. Spittle flew from his muzzle as he growled and screeched.

Stop it! I sent into his mind.

He stopped pounding on the barrier. His huge furry chest heaved as he stared at me. I looked at the scar on his face and wondered when and how he'd gotten it.

Want out. He punched the wall. Out! Out! Out!

Calm down. You have food, shelter, and safety. n.o.body will hurt you.

You lie. He moved away and paced. Escaped Wraiths. Betrayers! Die my way. Mine!

My heart clenched. He knew that his time was limited-that he would die one way or another. Faustus...

He turned suddenly and pressed his palms against the divider. His dark eyes burned into mine. My mind flickered-like someone turning on a television.

I saw a man standing in a field. He was not alone, but the background was fuzzy-as if Vaseline had been smeared across a camera lens. The man wore a silver helmet with a red horsehair crest; over a leather shirt, he wore silver armor. The garment ended in long strips, showing off the silver leg coverings strapped on from knee to ankle. His feet were encased in leather sandals. On one side, a dagger hung from his belt, and from the other hung a sword. In his hand he held a long stick.

"You were a Roman centurion," I said. "How did you end up a Wraith?"

His lips pulled back in a snarl. I held up my hands in supplication. This was an emotionally wounded creature-a man confined to animal form. Why he had turned from gentle giant to angry monster, I didn't know. Sympathy wound through my fear. He was a trapped soul and he was suffering due to another's desire to persecute. Then again, the Romans knew a thing or three about persecution. Maybe that was why Faustus was attracted to the Wraiths in the first place.

I kept my gaze on his. Where are the others like you? How many are there? Where are the Wraiths?

He shook his ma.s.sive head. Possible to save us?

I glanced at Lorcan, who watched our exchange with an impa.s.sive expression. Nervous, I tried to decide what to do. Lie to get the information? Give him false hope in order to further our cause? I swallowed my sigh. I couldn't bring myself to add to his victimization.

We don't have a cure for the taint, Faustus. Even if we did, what's been done to you is irreversible.He nodded, his palms sliding away from the plastic, and turned away.

Please, help us, I sent out desperately. Tell us where the other lycans are-or at least where the Wraiths are located.

Faustus didn't answer. Instead he dropped to his knees, lifted his head, and howled. The sorrowful noise made my soul ache with misery. I'm sorry, Faustus. I'm so sorry.

"This sucks." Jessica crossed her arms and huffed. "What are we going to do now?"