As a dark brow arched, Nadya realized that no one had ever called the female by a name. She was just referred to as the head of the guards, or “muhm” in the Old Language, in deference to her higher rank.
It was odd to hear the aristocratic term used to refer to someone like her.
“Gunshots. Contusions. Concussions.”
“How many patients.”
“A dozen.”
“I need antibiotics, bandages, and pain relief,” Nadya shot back. “Cephalosporin, all the pills you can get. Sulfa pills, too. I want hydrogen peroxide, as much as you can find, and Polysporin or Neosporin in tubes. I’ll take any pain relievers, pill form or liquid, even if they’re just over-the-counter. Also suturing kits and sterile bandages with tape. But I don’t know where you’re going to find it all—”
“That’s not going to be a problem.”
The arrogance wasn’t a surprise.
“Let me write it down.”
Moving as fast as she could, she went over to a battered desk in the corner and pulled out old stationery that had browned with age, but still bore the header of the hospital’s name and address. Her writing was messy, but her mind was clear.
Her mentor’s teachings remained with her, that bridge between the vampire and the human worlds still sound, still saving lives—even though she would see each of those guards bleed out if she had the choice.
Nadya returned to the other female and held out the piece of stationery. “Just so we’re clear, I can’t operate. I don’t have the skills beyond simple suturing. I’ll do what I can, but I—”
“No,” the female snapped as she took the list. “You’ll make sure they’re fully healed and back in commission. And before you ask, if they need to feed, I will have females brought here.”
“There are limits to what I can—”
The head of the guards took out a blade, the steel flashing with the same cold light that was in her eyes. “You better hope they all live. Every one of them. Their lives are yours. Their graves are your own. I’ll put a piece of you in each hole I have to dig for any of my males.”
Nadya stared through the mesh of her hood—and decided she was just about done with weapons being pointed at her.
“Where did my burn patient go?” she demanded as she pointed at the bed. “What happened to him?”
Weaknesses had to be hidden in the prison camp, and though her physical faults were obvious, she did what she could to camouflage her mental ones: Revealing to this killer that she had developed a tie with Kane was not smart.
But she had to know for sure what she feared in theory.
“He’s dead.” The head of the guards pivoted and walked out into the forest of shelves. “Your patients are arriving shortly. I’ll get you your supplies.”
Nadya listened to the retreating footfalls. And knew if she had been in another body, she would have gone after the female. In her mind, she had a fantasy of hand-to-hand combat, but that was never going to happen for so many reasons.
Kane had been a stranger. Yet in his suffering, he had become a part of her.
It was as if she had died, too.
And the prospect of going on without him cast her already gray world into a mourning that reached her soul.
CHAPTER FOUR
The sound of tires crackling over loose gravel entered Apex’s ears like shards of glass, the soft volume at odds with the pain the noise caused inside his skull. Meanwhile, in his nose, the smell of blood, gas, burned rubber, and fresh grass was likewise too much to handle. Groaning, he pushed at what was against his face—
He was back in the wheel well of the SUV. Except this time, it was vertical, not horizontal.
Shit, they’d rolled over. And those were more guards pulling up on the shoulder of the road.
As brakes squeaked, he forced himself into motion and patted around for a weapon he didn’t have, while off to the left, a car door opened—no, two. And that spelled certain death if he couldn’t find something to shoot or stab with—
Footsteps on the ground cover, rustling on the approach. At least two sets, closing in.