21. Christopher #2
Working my tongue, I activate the comm. “Emergency services.”
“Right here, Chris. One of the cats sick?”
“No. I’m in the desert habitat. Rattlesnake bit me.” I pant, trying to control the pain. “I need vampire blood.”
“Understood. I’ll call Tig and give her your location.”
The last thing I want is another lecture from Tig. “What about Dr. Clarke?”
“He responded to an emergency in Hawaii last night and is still there, asleep.”
No choice. “Sure. Whatever. Send Tig.”
As I wait, the sun disappears over the horizon. The desert turns cooler, and the sky darkens, so I tap the daylight bracelet to turn it off. Now, I’m visible in all my naked glory. When Tig arrives, she won’t have any trouble finding me.
I struggle to my feet and plod to the tunnels, trying to make it back to the living area.
I fail, dropping to my knees, still clutching Sage.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I bend over, the pain spreading through my body.
The barrier protecting the tunnel pops as someone passes through.
I stiffen. I’m not ready to deal with Maria and the fight we’re sure to have.
A dark blue blanket lands on my bent back, and my clothing plops on the sand.
“Maria warned me you were naked.”
“Oh.” I startle at Tig’s voice and spread the blanket around my waist. “Did you bring vampire blood? I’m in a world of hurt.”
“First you lose a truck. And now this. You’re high maintenance, you know that?”
“I’m a rock star. We’re all high maintenance.” I grab my jeans and wiggle into them, retaining my modesty with strategic use of the blanket.
Kneeling beside me, Tig bites her own wrist and thrusts the welling blood in front of my face. “Take all you need. Within reason.”
I lock my lips around the wound and suck. Vampires are accustomed to drinking blood from each other instead of medicine. It’s not at all like when Maria and I exchanged bites.
“I’ve got good news for you. The vampire council voted about Maria—they’re split fifty-fifty.”
I release her wrist to speak. “Which means it’ll be up to the Lux leaders and the mortal representatives to decide my fate.”
“Exactly.”
“Thanks, Tig.” Relief swells in my heart. We have a chance. “But what really happened? We both know the council is territorial when it comes to disciplining vampires. They rarely leave it up to the other groups.”
She chuckles. “They’ve recently learned a cauldron of renegade vampires in your area captured mortal survivors living outside the domes and are using them as their personal blood banks. As word spread, more vamps migrated here to join them.”
“Which explains the increased attacks.”
“Yeah. And that’s why the council split. Those who voted against prosecuting you don’t want your trial to shine a light on the problem—their usual sweep-it-under-the-rug bullshit, but lucky timing for you.”
“Yeah, but I’m not out of the woods yet.”
“Look, it’s a step in the right direction.” She holds out her wrist. “Keep drinking.”
I resume, and within minutes, I feel better.
“Okay, that’s enough.” She twists her wrist, breaking the lip lock I have on her skin.
“Thanks, Tig.” The burning in my veins is still present, but I have to trust her instincts.
Too much, whether I’m near true death or not, and her blood could put me through the turn again.
Not only do I not want to be a newbie vampire, being the police chief’s child isn’t my idea of a good time.
It’s why vampires are always careful about the quantities we exchange.
“I stopped by the infirmary.” She removes a syringe from her pocket. “This will help, too. It’s Dr. Clarke’s blood.”
I close my eyes. The needle punctures my skin near the snakebite—a sharp pinch—and cold vampire blood chills me. I cock my head and squint my eyes open again to look at my chest, watching the two wounds scab over.
“That was a nasty bite.” She runs her finger along the older wound, which is already looking better. “What was this?”
“Silver knife from the hand-to-hand fight I mentioned last night.”
“Hmm. Well, both injuries look improved now.”
I nod. Then I look away, unable to ask my question and see the judgment in Tig’s eyes.
“Can you find a home for Zinnia?”
“I told you before.” She withdraws the needle and huffs. “We don’t separate children from their mothers. Are you ready to release Maria and send her away too?”
“I…” I lower my head into my hands. Fuck. For the first time since the Collapse, with Maria and Zinnia here, loneliness hasn’t been my constant companion. But I see the snake cornering Zinnia in my mind and swallow. “Yes. I know she needs to stay with Zinnia. And Zinnia is not safe here.”
Tig sighs, then rolls her hips to the side, moving from kneeling to sitting, and crosses her legs.
I glance over at her. “You’re going to get your uniform dirty.”
“A little sand is the least of my problems.” She wipes her hands on the tan pants. “Chris, I’m not convinced you want what you’re asking. You put yourself in harm’s way to save the child. She must mean something to you.”
Tig is right. I like the kiddo. Reading to her. Seeing delight in her eyes when I find a new toy for her. Trying out my rusty cooking skills—the ones I learned from my mother.
But kids weigh you down.
“Tell me the real reason you want Zinnia to leave.”
I can’t say it and face her, so I focus on another truth and tell her what happened since we woke today. I conclude with, “I didn’t even think of the cat door as a danger. I don’t know what a kid needs. She almost got killed. Because of my carelessness.”
“You don’t mean she almost got killed. You mean she almost got bitten by a rattlesnake. We have antivenom for all the snakes in your dome. You know that.”
“But what if there hadn’t been an early moonrise? She could have died out there.” I wave my hand at the path we took to find the kiddo. “It’s just too dangerous here.”
“Even as a mortal, you’ve only lived under the illusion of safety.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know what it’s like to raise children in a primitive world where the threats are clearer. Before the Collapse, you lived in cities where they emphasized safety, and children had access to vaccines and healthcare, right?”
I rub the back of my neck. “I guess.”
“My people, the Maasai, lived in the wilderness of the African plains, where a hungry lion could snatch a child if one wandered away from the village. No parent wants to lose a child, but I had five children, and my eldest was killed during his first lion hunt. I know what it’s like to live with that risk and survive the grief when it happens. ”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We celebrated his life and sacrifice to the community. Death wasn’t a stranger. We accepted the risks because we had no other choice.” She pauses. “But Maria can’t have more children, and that makes Zinnia more precious to both of you.”
“But I don’t want the responsibility,” I blurt out, pounding my fists on the sand. “I could screw up and she could die.”
Or I could screw her up, doing to Zinnia what my dad did to me.
Tig’s gaze locks on mine. “You cannot live in fear.”
“It’s not just fear. She’s not safe here.”
“Nowhere is safe. The mixed domes give the illusion of safety, but for all mortals, the potential for sudden illness, injury, or death remains. Someday she will die. You’ll grieve her loss then, but it does not erase her life.”
“I can’t imagine surviving that.”
“Look, Chris, let’s focus on making her life as safe as it can be given the circumstances.” Tig leans back on her hands. “What would you say to a remote babysitter, including kindergarten classes?”
“Could we include an in-person sitter? Or maybe flash her to a mixed dome when Maria and I are asleep or scavenging. I’ll work an extra year here to cover the cost.”
“Let me check with Ari when he returns from vacation. He’ll have to work out the logistics of transporting her twice a day. And you should talk with Maria before making school and babysitting arrangements. Discuss what she wants for Zinnia. In the meantime, we’ll find ways to keep the girl safer.”
I rub a hand over my face. All I can picture is the snake striking Zinnia, and Maria’s subsequent heartbreak.
Tig glides a thumb over my shoulder. “The wound is healed. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ll survive. The venom’s fire is a light simmer now instead of a raging furnace.”
“Good. Why don’t you go check on your family, let them know you’re okay.”
Family?
Normally, I’d shudder at the idea. But I’m too emotionally drained to react.
She stands. “I’m here when you need me.”
For all the years I’ve known Tig, we’ve been cordial but not close. Her advice and offer of friendship warms me.
She takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. I almost topple over. I’m weaker than I realized.
“No scavenging tonight.”
I lean against her, wrapping my arm around her waist for support. “Does that mean you got us a new truck?”
She chuckles. “Yeah, the latest model with enhanced comm range. It should be in the garage by now. This dome was overdue for an upgrade.”
I don’t know what strings she pulled, because I only halfway believe her. “Thanks, Tig.”