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It was then Jesse realized there was someone behind him. Long, pale fingers gripped Tyler’s arm and his neck. Eyes like red coals burned in the shadows of the bone-pale face. A red mouth was open, close to Tyler’s shoulder, the white teeth glinting.
“Lucien,” Emory said, voice low as an earth tremor, “let him go.”
The unknown haemophile’s hands tightened. Tyler went rigid. Jesse watched in horror as the front of his jeans darkened with urine.
The other man was screeching now. He stooped, grabbed a stone and lifted it. Jesse yelled a warning and flung himself at the stranger, colliding with him at full force and tumbling him into the snow. The man writhed and raved, striking out wildly.
“Fuckingstop,” Jesse cried, straddling him and grabbing his arms. “You’re gonna get us all fucking killed.”
The man stilled, panting, his spittle hitting Jesse’s face. He clutched Jesse’s coat like he was about to throw him off but didn’t move. He was staring wide-eyed at Tyler and the horror clutching him.
“This is not how things should be.” The voice out of the darkness was like the low, slow flow of lava. The accent was beyond anything Jesse’s adrenaline-flooded mind could identify. But the utter and explicit threat made his flesh turn to ice.
“Let him go,” Emory commanded.
“This. Is. Not. How. It. Should. Be.”
“Lucien…” Emory took a step closer. Tyler sobbed as the long fingers tightened on his arms. “Go. Now. Before it is too late.”
The silence that descended was colder and harder than hoar frost.
“It is already too late, my friend.”
Tyler crumpled bonelessly into the snow. The haemophile had vanished. His friend threw Jesse off and ran to him.
“Get up, man,” he cried, shaking his arm. “Get the fuck up.”
Tyler got shakily to his feet, then the man was dragging him toward the road. He continued to scream obscenities until the distance rendered him inaudible.
Jesse stood, breathing heavily. The icy air burned his lungs. Emory hadn’t moved. His face was hard. He still looked like a stranger.
“Emory?”
Jesse blinked but Emory was gone. He stared around but he was completely alone. The silence was dark and cold as the winter night around him.
He drifted back to the house in a daze. Tom was on the terrace, scanning the dark anxiously. He slumped with visible relief when he spotted Jesse.
“Jesse, thank God,” he said, hurrying to meet him. “What the hell happened?”
“I…I don’t even know.”
Tom took him by the arms. “You look awful. Come on. Get inside.”
Jesse stepped gratefully into the warmth but couldn’t go any farther than the inside of the door. He slumped against the wall and closed his eyes.
“You were right, Tom. You were right.” His voice shook.
“Right about what?”
“His face,” Jesse said. “He was…”
“It wasn’t him,” Tom said quietly after a pause. “He sensed a threat. That’s when the Blood takes over.”
“But he can’t control that, right?”
Tom shook his head. “No. No, he can’t.” He put his hand on Jesse’s arm. “Jesse, you don’t look well.”
“My fucking head,” Jesse groaned, rubbing his temples.
