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EVAN LAZARUS
Evan Lazarus staredat the wall of his artwork in the training room. He’d come down after checking in on Daisy and pinned his latest dream sketches straight to the wall. Then he stood back, his arms folded, and stared.
This was his life.
Wall to wall, messy charcoal lines. Some of them made sense. Some of them were just black holes in his head. Feelings. Vibes. Senses. Before Daisy had brought Grace back to him, in his sheer and utter desperation, all he’d dreamed was of his mate in a dark place, a single glimpse of the sky through a window. The dreams had come in broken segments, and none of them had been helpful.
And last night, after he’d spent a glorious few hours feeding his mate, washing her, massaging her, making her feel safe… they’d made love on the fresh chevron sheets he’d fitted to his bed, the same sheets they’d slept on when she’d first come to live with him two years earlier.
He’d slept soundly for the first night in a long time. Until he was awoken this morning by the shouts of his brother. But there had been a second—a split second moment where he’d been caught between sleep and awake that he’d had the vision.
His eyes tracked to the newest sketch he’d pinned.
Daisy. Not dead. But with lightning in her eyes, her hair lit up like it was radioactive, fangs in her mouth, her veins on fire. Maybe she was dead. Maybe that strange rendition of her was from another life. Maybe another universe.
“Hey, honey.” Grace walked into the room.
His reason for living had her long, dark hair tied back in a braid. She would be in civilian clothes until she recovered from her kidnapping ordeal. He simply refused to let her out of his sight, and back to surgery, until all this mess with Julius was over. She’d already mentioned that she could be of use at the hospital with the state of the city, but no. She had to stay here. His heart simply wouldn’t take another scare.
Unlike some of his siblings who’d fallen completely apart, Evan had always had a feeling. It had been a calm spot in the storm of fear constantly barreling through his body. He’d told himself it was part of his precognition that put the feeling there. It meant they would find their mates. And that they would be safe.
That feeling was gone now, even when he thought of his eldest sister in a bed, dying.
He gathered Grace into his arms and kissed her long, hard and deep. She moaned appreciatively into his mouth, telling him with her sounds that she missed him too.
“How’s the patient, Doc?” he asked roughly.
Grace’s eyes dimmed and she shook her head. “Axel has been trying to get me to give his blood to Daisy, but I keep telling him it doesn’t work the same way as hers does to him. His won’t heal her enough. And she’s far too damaged. Julius took too much of her spinal fluid. I’m surprised she was able to function.”
“She’s incredibly tough.”
Grace blinked away tears. “She deserves so much more.”
“And one of us can’t transfuse our blood to her?”
Again, Grace shook her head. “She’s lost so much blood that even if she doesn’t reject the transfusion, it will leave the donor in the same position she’s in. And then there’s the fact that if you donate your blood, and I get injured, you’ll have nothing left to help me, and then we’ll be back in the position Griffin just was in. If you survive, you’ll be unbalanced. I’ll be dead. Which of you will do that, because I might be a selfish bitch for saying this, but I refuse to let it be you.”
He smoothed his thumb over her cheek to rub the spilled tear away. His heart ached, because he felt the same way. He loved Daisy… but enough to die in her place? Enough to leave Grace behind? Enough to risk going dark? And for what, a chance for Daisy to survive?
He was a bastard for thinking of it. Maybe it was why he was hiding out here in the basement. He cupped the back of Grace’s head and tugged her to his chest, holding her tight against the beating of his heart. His eyes skipped to the wall, unsure why he kept coming down here to look at it all. He settled on the recent sketch, wondering why Daisy looked so different, and then he saw it.
The electric eyes. The fangs. The veins on fire.
“Holy shit,” he murmured.
“What?” Grace pulled back with a strangled sob. She wiped her eyes when she caught Evan’s intense gaze on the wall. “What is it?”
“You said Daisy’s lost too much blood, and one of us won’t have enough to donate safely without harming ourselves… but what if we all donate a little. Would that work?”
“Multiple donors are risky at the best of times. And Daisy’s blood cell count is so low. I suppose if it’s coming fresh from a vein then there’s no chance of the preservatives normally used to create complications. How many are we talking?”
“All seven of us.” He pointed at the sketch. “I had a flash of that in my mind before I woke this morning. Call me crazy, but it looks like she’s exhibiting our powers. Look—fangs. That’s Parker. Fire in the veins—that’s from Tony. Electric eyes—me.” He thought hard about that image he’d seen. “Come to think of it, there may have been smoke like Liza’s poison. And I wouldn’t have seen Sloan’s or Wyatt’s gift visually.”
She canted her head. “You think by donating your blood, you’ll also be donating your gifts?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe it’s just a sign for all of us to give her something.”
Grace rubbed her chin. “I mean… multiple donors are not something anyone would recommend, but none of you are normal. It could work if we do it a little at a time over twenty-four hours. We’ve done that after surgery once. Give her a chance to accept the donation before moving onto the next.”
