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“Yes.” He stretched out beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do for your pain.”
“Talk to me.” Her breathing grew more labored. “Tell me what it’s like to be a cowboy.”
He rubbed his chin against her hair. “It’s not as exciting as the movies. You work long hours. Even when the weather is bad. There’s never a day off.”
“You . . . didn’t like it?”
He paused a moment, thinking back on the days he’d spent riding alongside his father. The sun shining. The snowcapped mountains in the distance. “I loved it.”
“Maybe . . . you’ll have a ranch again someday.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. How could he? He’d never see the sun again. Or his father. That was all in the past. And as for the future, he was finding it hard to imagine without Jia.
For three years, ever since he’d awakened undead, he’d thought his heart was dead. He’d thought he was incapable of any feeling but hate. He’d had no purpose for his existence other than revenge.
But somehow, in only a week, Jia had changed everything. He wanted a heart now so he could give it to her. He wanted to live so he could be with her. He wanted love instead of hate, joy instead of revenge.
But she wasn’t his. She never would be. Her future was with a prince.
His own future seemed suddenly bleak, and his newly awakened heart ached with despair. He might have to commit the ungodly crime of killing his own brother. If so, he would spend eternity with nothing but guilt to keep him company. Once Han was dead and the mission was over, Jia would leave. How could he live without her?
His phone started buzzing again. Rajiv wasn’t giving up. The poor guy had to know that his cousin was dying.
Jia stiffened slightly in his arms, then exhaled slowly.
He waited, his heart constricted with pain. Waited to hear another breath, but there was nothing.
“Jia.” He continued to hold her. Even though she was gone, he couldn’t let go. And now that she couldn’t hear him, he would say the words in his heart. He’d wanted to tell her earlier, but how could he, when her future was with someone else?
“Jia, I’m in love with you.”
Ten minutes later, Russell paced about the cave, growing increasingly anxious that Jia was still dead. He ignored the hunger pangs, ignored the gnaw in his gut about his brother. Instead, he chose to focus on Jia. How long would it take for her to wake up? He had no idea.
He did figure she wouldn’t enjoy waking up in a pool of blood. The smell was getting to him, too, as a constant, nauseating reminder of his failure, so he decided to take action. After warming up some water, he used a dampened towel to wipe her face. He removed her bloody tunic and tossed it on the ground.
Her silk camisole was soaked through. He lifted the hem enough to clean the wound on her rib cage. It was healing! Already the wound had sealed shut. He grinned with this new evidence that she was indeed progressing to her next life.
He slid one of his clean T-shirts over her head and far enough down to cover her breasts. Then he cut the camisole off and dropped it on top of her bloody tunic.
“I’m not peeking,” he told her as he slipped her arms into the sleeves. “I know you’re engaged to someone else.”
His extra-large T-shirt ended just above her knees. He reached underneath to pull off her bloody trousers and underwear. They ended up in the growing pile of soiled clothes on the ground. He washed her arms and legs, then shifted her so he could remove the top sleeping bag. It was stained with blood, but the bags underneath had remained clean.
“There. You’ll feel better now.” He covered her with a soft blanket.
A hunger pain shot through his stomach, nearly doubling him over. No matter how squeamish he felt, he needed to eat. He stumbled over to the ice chest, pulled out a bottle, and guzzled half of it down. In a few seconds, nausea struck. He ran into the river and heaved till his stomach was empty.
As the water current swept the blood away, he remained in the stream, hunched over with his hands resting on his knees. He panted for breath, too weak to move. Too overwhelmed to function.
His brother was Master Han. He’d tried not to think about it, but the truth was there, making his gut twist with despair. His brother had killed Jia and her family. For over forty years, his brother had ravaged southern China and surrounding countries, terrorizing and killing people.
“Markos.” He stumbled upstream and tossed fresh water on his face. “What happened to you?”
His mind raced, zipping through childhood memories, trying desperately to recall any indication that his brother would someday turn into an evil monster. Only two years younger, Markos had been the quiet, studious one. He’d been picked on a bit at school, but Russell had always been quick to punish any bullies. Everyone had soon learned that messing with Markos meant retaliation from the older brother.
Markos had tried to be more physical like Russell, who had been the quarterback on the high school football team. How Dad had loved that. He had never missed a game.
When Markos had tried football, he’d ended up injured in his first game. Cracked ribs and a severely sprained back. He’d had to wear a back brace for two months. And since he’d been unable to do his chores on the ranch, Russell’s workload had doubled. Had he complained too much? Made his brother feel bad?
He shook his head. He’d always suspected it had been Markos’s reliance on pain pills that had gotten him into trouble with drugs. But Markos had recovered. All kids had their share of problems growing up. They didn’t turn into evil vampire warlords. What had happened to Markos? Had the war in Vietnam damaged him beyond repair? Or had becoming a vampire traumatized him? Had he gone crazy with his newfound strength and superpowers?
And what was Russell to do? Would he have to kill his brother? If Markos attacked Tiger Town with his army, there would be plenty of people trying to kill him. The job could be left to Angus or any of his employees. But what if Markos killed one of them? What if he killed Zoltan or Howard? Both those guys had wives who were expecting. Or Markos might kill some of Jia’s friends or family.
Russell groaned. Markos was his brother. He had to take responsibility. His brother had to be stopped before he could kill anyone else.
With his decision made, Russell trudged toward the table, where he’d left the half-empty bottle of blood. He warmed it up in the microwave, then tried sipping it slowly. It stayed down.
He stripped down to his underwear, then, using rocks, he anchored his dirty clothes in the stream. The rushing current would wash away most of the blood. He emptied the pockets of his coat and anchored it in the stream, too. Then he gathered up Jia’s bloody clothes and the soiled sleeping bag. He couldn’t leave them here or aboveground, where the scent would attract predators. So he teleported to another cave hundreds of miles away.
He dropped the bloody load, then looked around. This was the cave where Wu Shen had once taken him, J.L., Howard, Gregori, and Abigail Tucker prisoner. It was here that he’d met Darafer and the three vampire lords. And Master Han.
Han—short for Hankelburg? Russell recalled how the vampire lords had wanted to kill them. Master Han had stiffened after seeing Russell. Shock at seeing his brother on the opposing team? Han had quickly announced that Russell bore his mark. He’d kept his brother alive.
Russell sighed. He didn’t see how he could do the same. Most probably, Markos would have to die.
After teleporting back home, Russell showered and put on clean clothes. Jia was still dead. He looked at the clock on the microwave. Twenty-five minutes had passed.
He warmed up more blood and took small sips. His strength was coming back. But what about Jia? She’d lost so much blood. Wouldn’t she be weak when she woke up? She would need some good food.
“I’ll be right back,” he told her, then grabbed a tote bag and teleported to the kitchen in Zoltan’s castle.
What would be quick but healthy? He examined the contents of the refrigerator and spotted a Ziploc bag of sliced ham. He grabbed it and a package of sliced cheese. He tossed them into the tote bag, then stepped into the pantry. A loaf of bread, a bag of chips, some bananas, a jar of mixed nuts.
“Russell, what are you doing?” Howard’s voice called out. His footsteps were drawing close at a fast pace.
