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Camil e said nothing, just stood, shoulders back, blanket on the chair behind her. She didn’t run forward, didn’t step back, just planted herself in the middle of the hal . Her hand trembled, and I could hear the rustle of her breath as she struggled to control herself.
Sharah seemed to be walking through water, her pace slow and deliberate. She was in scrubs, covered with blood, spatters even dotting her flaxen hair. She looked . . . unreadable, as so many of the elves were.
She approached us and stopped, holding up a chart.
Camil e waited, unwil ing to be the first to talk.
“How is he?” I asked for her.
Sharah consulted her notes. “Alive. But he’s been seriously wounded. He lost a lot of blood and half of his liver. An inch higher and the stake would have left almost nothing of it. The liver regenerates, but this is serious.”
“Wil he live?” Camil e whispered.
“If he makes it through the rest of the surgery, he’l have a chance. Mal en is working on him now
—repairing delicate tears so fine I can barely see them. Once he’s off the operating table, the next twenty-four hours wil tel the tale.” Sharah pressed her lips together, then let out a slow sigh.
“What are his chances?” My sister’s voice was strained raw; she was barely keeping it together.
“I’d give him a sixty percent chance. Mal en’s a talented surgeon and can work miracles, but there was so much damage, it’s hard to find everything that needs repair. We may have to go in for a second surgery tomorrow.” Brushing a weary hand against her hair, she motioned to the chairs. “Please sit down. You don’t look so good, Camil e.”
“It’s not about me,” Camil e whispered. “It’s not about me.” But she slid back into the chair and wrapped her blanket around her, staring at the wal . “Tril ian should be here,” she added after a moment.
“I’l cal him.” I motioned to Sharah and walked her back toward the operating room. “Are you serious about his chances? He’s not worse off and you’re trying to prepare Camil e for bad news?”
Sharah shook her head. “Only the next twenty-four hours wil tel the story. My instinct tel s me he’l make it, but he’s not going anywhere for a while. If he’d been human, or Fae or elf, he’d be dead now.”
“Or vampire,” I whispered. She gave me a questioning look. “He saved my life. He pushed me out of the way. The stake was aimed at me and he took the hit. If he dies, it’s because of me.” I looked back at Camil e, wondering if that thought had registered with her yet.
“He did what you al do—looked out for the others. He saw you were in danger and he acted to save you. You’d do the same for him. Any of you guys would have done the same thing if it had been him the stake was aiming for.”
“Be that as it may, this has to stop. Listen, I’m going to get someone out here to stay with Camil e because I know damned wel she’s not going home, and she’d be useless there. And then I’m headed out. I’ve stil got a long time til morning and I’ve got a bargain to strike.”
Before she could answer, I turned and hurried back to Camil e. I pul ed out my cel phone when I realized she hadn’t cal ed Tril ian yet, and dialed home. Delilah came on the line.
“Camil e needs Tril ian here. And I think you should come, too. I have to take care of something.
Hurry it up. Vanzir wil be there to stay with Iris and Maggie. Shade should hang around the house, too. I know we have the guards now, but I just don’t trust somebody outside the family to watch over our loved ones.”
I quickly fil ed her in on Morio’s condition, and she was off the phone and out the door before I could say another word. I motioned to Chase.
“Can you stay with Camil e while I take off? Delilah and Tril ian wil be here soon, and I have business to attend to. This fucking crap with the ghosts has got to stop. I’ve got a lead on how to take care of it.” Without waiting for his reply, I headed out the door.
As I pul ed out of the parking lot, the snow had let up and now a clear patch through the sky was il uminated by stars, glistening down on the silent cover of snow that blanketed the city. I was struck by the intense beauty of the pristine vista, and it occurred to me that Seattle was a city of extremes: beauty and terror, danger and passion, life and death. And we were al just along for the ride.
I stopped at an al -night diner, pul ing in to the far edge of their lot, to put in a cal to Ivana Krask.>“Did anything else happen? Anything I should know about?” I watched his face, but he was careful not to reveal anything.
“We were fighting for our lives. Ask Camil e if you want to know more,” he said abruptly, then headed for the ladder.
I glanced back at the tunnels. We hadn’t found our kil er’s nest, but we’d discovered too much down here. Chase’s powers were emerging. The spirits of Seattle were growing strong and dangerous. And something else had happened . . . but just what, I wasn’t sure.
As I scrambled up the ladder, jumping out right behind Vanzir, it was just in time to see the ambulance go shrieking off, lights blazing. Camil e was racing toward her car, tears pouring down her face.
“Camil e—Morio, is he—?”
She stopped, fumbling to open the door. “He’s alive, but in critical condition. I’m headed to the hospital.” Pausing, she stared at Vanzir, who headed over to her car.
“I’m going with you,” he said.
