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He felt the beast withdraw, as if understanding that the life of the woman depended on its departure.
“Sara.” He stroked her forehead. “Sara, my love.”
Her eyelids fluttered, and when he again caught the scent of her pain, a new swell of fury rose within him.
“Knew … you’d come. Had … to say … good-bye.”
“No.” He stroked her face, held her hand. “No, you cannot leave me.”
“No…choice.” Her voice was so weak, but still she smiled at him, even as a vise tightened around his heart.
“I’ll heal you. I can make you well.” With grim determination, he bit his wrist, then pressed it to her lips. “Drink.”
She did, but her eyes did not spark. The life did not return. She was too far gone, and he was losing her, his blood barely prolonging the inevitable.
He pulled his wrist away and brushed her hair off her face. Lost, so terribly, terribly lost.
Footsteps behind him, then Doyle’s voice. “Oh, God. Oh, damn. That son of a bitch. That goddamn fuckwad.”
“Your coat,” Tucker said. “Doyle, put your coat over her.”
“Getting … darker,” Sara said as Doyle draped her. “No time.” Her lips twitched, as if she was trying to smile. She looked straight at Lucius. “I love you.”
His heart twisted, and he felt his eyes well with tears. He had not, he thought vaguely, cried in centuries. Now it felt as though if he started he would never stop. “You cannot go.”
Another flash of pain crossed her face, and her fingers twitched as she tried to grip his fingers.
“Do something,” Doyle said.
“My blood is not healing her. She is too far gone.”
“Dammit, Lucius, she’s not there yet. You can save her. You can change her. Don’t let her go. Not like this.”
“I cannot.” He thought of Livia. Of the serpent within. Sara was too weak, and he felt too much. He would go too far. He would fail.
And even if he succeeded, it was not what he wanted for her. The serpent. The horror. The never-ending battle within.
And yet…
He drew in a breath, felt a tear trickle down his cheek.
And yet he could not see her gone.
“What the fuck?” Doyle spat. “Cannot? The hell you can’t. You’re a goddamn bloodsucker.”
“I cannot,” Lucius said again, this time standing up and pressing a hand to his chest. “Countermeasures. One taste of human blood and the stake is triggered, and I must feed to turn her.”
Doyle sagged. “Fuck. Goddamn fucking hell.”
“There is a way,” Lucius said, turning back to Sara and holding her hand. Her eyes were glassy, her grip weak. But her fingers moved beneath his. “Hold on,” he said. “Hold on, my love.”
“What way?” Doyle asked, and Lucius told him about the fail-safe, the mechanism by which the detention device could be released by either the prosecutor or Doyle inputting their authorization code back at Division. “Right. Of course.”
“You will go?”
“Hell, yeah, I’ll go.”
He headed for the door.
