“Undiluted is probably best.”
Gabriel opened the bottles and passed one to his brother, then reclaimed his seat behind the desk, watching as Colin downed the entire thing in seconds.
“Do you need more?” Gabriel asked, offering him the second bottle.
“No, thank you.” Colin forced a smile, but Gabriel wasn’t buying it.
“Colin, are you—”
“It’s nothing. I’m just a bit tired.”
“You don’t get tired. And I’ve seen you get so involved in your work you forget to feed for days at a time, but it’s never left you so… so out of sorts.”
Colin waved away the concern. “Between setting up the practice, tending to my patients, and the ongoing work with Father’s research—”
“Father’s research?” Gabriel took a swig of the blood, feeling like he needed the boost. Talk of their father always wore him thin. “Still barking up that tree, then?”
“Say what you will about Father, but this is important work. The cure for vampirism needs heavy modification if it’s ever to become a viable option. Right now, it’s simply too dangerous to leave in its current iteration.”
A now-familiar ache settled into Gabriel’s chest. He knew all too well the dangers of their father’s so-called cure. In its current formulation, it turned a vampire into a human, effectively “curing” him. The side effects were another matter; the moment the body returned to its human state, it aged to its present human age—rapidly. Not even a formerly immortal vampire could outrun the curse of time.
That cure had killed his father. And it’d destroyed Malcolm’s body as well, allowing Dorian to defeat the demon possessing it—Azerius.
Malcolm, of course, had not survived.
Gabriel took another long pull from the bottle.
“I suppose I’ve just been burning the candle at both ends,” Colin said, but Gabriel wasn’t convinced.
All the explanations and excuses in the world couldn’t paint over the truth, and the frightened look in Colin’s eyes—there and gone in a blink—confirmed it.
The curse.
It was starting to affect Colin.
Gabriel knew all too well the signs. Weakening muscles. Loss of coordination. Sensitivity to sunlight. Inability to absorb the nutrients they needed from blood. The haze that sometimes blew through the mind like a thick fog.
Dorian had been the first to feel it. Then Gabriel. Now Colin. He imagined Charlotte wasn’t too far behind.
Aiden was the question mark. Since he was neither a Redthorne by blood nor sired by one, his fate came down to the precise wording of the curse, which none of them knew.
“We’ll find Viansa,” Gabriel said firmly, “and break this bloody curse. I promise you.”
“I know. But I’m fine—really. As I said, I just need—”
A knock on the door saved them both from faking their way through more of Colin’s flimsy explanations.
“Come in,” Gabriel said.
The door swung open, revealing Cole in his usual flannel and jeans, cigarette growing out of his mouth. Behind him, Jacinda dazzled in black leather pants and a silver sequined top, hair wild and loose, cascading over her shoulders.
After last night, he could scarcely meet her eyes without seeing that Tarot card—the Lovers. Without hearing her soft voice whispering through his mind.
Like any card, sometimes it can be taken literally—lovers, a relationship, intense desire, a deeply intimate bond, sex…
“Got some news for ya, Little Red,” Cole said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “The good, the bad,andthe ugly.”
Chapter Fourteen
