The command ruffled her feathers, but she hooked a chair with her foot, yanked it as far from Conall as possible, and planted her ass. “What now? I don’t have any blood left, and if you think you’re getting a stool sample, you can—”
“I don’t need a stool sample,” Eidolon interrupted. “I need your help.”
She felt Con’s silver eyes boring into her like drill bits, and to her annoyance, her body flushed with warmth as though remembering another drilling he’d given her. That was sonot happening again. “Look, you should know that the Assassin Guild has been flooded with requests for hits on wargs. I don’t know if the sudden surge is related, but I figured I’d tell you.”
Wraith’s sharp gaze cut to Eidolon. “I’ve heard the same thing. Word on the street is that some of the other were-species are worried that the wolves will transmit the disease to them, so they’re being a little… proactive.”
Both Eidolon and Con uttered the same raw curse.
Sin settled back in her chair and forced herself to stay calm, when all she wanted to do was scream at this disaster she’d created. “You said you needed my help. What kind?”
Eidolon reached for the water bottle on his desk and took a swig before speaking. “Thanks to Harrowgates and the ability to travel instantaneously, the virus has now made its way to every continent except Antarctica. The death toll is climbing. The disease has a one hundred percent mortality rate, a practically nonexistent incubation period, and no victim has lived longer than seventy-two hours after infection. Basically, by the time a patient arrives, we don’t have a lot of time for treatment.”
Jesus. It was worse than she’d thought. “Haven’t you made any progress at all?”
“A little.” Leather squeaked as Eidolon leaned back in his chair. “We’ve discovered a half-dozen wargs who were exposed but didn’t contract the infection. The R-XR is trying to determine what makes them immune.”
The U.S. Army’s paranormal unit was involved now? And Eidolon was working with them? She’d known that their brother Shade’s mate, Runa, used to be a member, and that Runa’s brother Arik still was, but holy crap—it just didn’t feel right for the government to be involved in any way with Underworld General.
Especially not a military unit that killed, captured, and experimented on demons.
Then again, UG had several strong ties to The Aegis, a civilian demon-slaying organization—hell, Eidolon was even mated to an Aegis Guardian—and so far, the association had benefitted both UG and The Aegis.
“So I’m here, why? Are you in need of assassination services, or what?” She threw that out just to get a reaction from her uptight, always-in-control brother, but to her surprise, it was Con who made the noise.
“You’re here because wargs are dying, and it’s your fault,” he growled, a hint of an odd British-ish accent tweaking his words. It happened when he got all pissy, and it was strangely… hot.
But she still didn’t like him, and she wrenched her head around to peg him with a glare. Which might have been a good plan if he hadn’t looked so damned good in his black paramedic uniform, which set off his deeply tanned skin and sun-streaked blond hair so beautifully. Toss in those shimmering silver eyes, and there was no glaring at him. Only admiring.
“Why are you even here?” she snapped, more irritated by her reaction to him than anything. “I didn’t think the disease affected dhampires.”
“I’m on the Warg Council. I’m keeping them informed.”
“Well, good for you.”
Eidolon cleared his throat imperiously. “Actually, you’re both here for a reason. Sin, it’s time that we put some serious effort into working with your gift. We’ve got to determine a way to use it to treat the disease.”
“We tried that before. My ‘gift’ kills. It doesn’t cure.” Her “gift” was something she’d really like to give right back to her Seminus father. Too bad he was dead.
“Yeah, well, technically, you shouldn’t exist, so I’m not ready to write off the impossible.”
Oh, she loved the reminders about how she was a freak of nature, the only female Seminus demon to ever have been born. A Smurfette, as Wraith liked to call her.
“So what’s your plan?”
“Can you use your gift to determine what kind of disease resides inside a body? If you touch someone who is ill, can you tell what they are sick with?”
“Sort of. I can feel the arrangement of the virus or bacteria or whatever. And once I learn it, I can replicate that specific disease.” She shot Conall a smirk. “Khileshi cockfire is a favorite.”
Wraith laughed. Conall paled. Eidolon looked at her like she was responsible for every case of the excruciating, dick-shriveling venereal disease he’d ever treated. The guy was so freaking uptight he probably starched his freaking underwear.
“As disturbing as that is,” Eidolon said flatly, “it’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
There was a tap at the door, and Lore strode past Wraith, who was still playing doorjamb sentinel. Lore held a folder in his leather-gloved hand, and Sin didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing her twin brother in scrubs. “I read the R-XR’s initial report on the immune wargs, and something jumped out at me. The wargs who didn’t catch SF after being exposed were born wargs. So I examined the bodies in our morgue and ran some tests. I know not every warg that’s been infected has come through the hospital, but the ones who have? Turnedwargs.”
Sin frowned. “SF?”
“Sin Fever,” Wraith chimed in a little too enthusiastically.
Sin Fever?They’d named the fucking disease after her? Bastards.
E flipped excitedly through the folder Lore gave him. “Just when I thought we’d never find a link between the victims. I’ll call the R-XR and let them know. Excellent work, Lore.”
Despite the grim subject matter, Sin couldn’t help but be thrilled that her brother, who had, as an assassin, known nothing but killing and loneliness until just weeks ago, was now mated, happy, and working in the hospital—the morgue, where his death-touch couldn’t accidentally kill anyone.
“Wait,” Sin said. “How can you tell the difference between turned and born werewolves?”
“Born wargs usually have a birthmark somewhere on their bodies, but we can’t always go by that.” Before Sin could ask why, Eidolon finished. “Outcasts are required to have them removed, and some turned wargs have them artificially applied, so we have to perform genetic testing to determine if they’re born or turned.”
Huh. Who would have thunk it? “So, what was it you wanted with me?”
Eidolon looked up from the paperwork, and the circles under his eyes seemed to have lightened a little. “About that… see, that’s why I called Con to this meeting.”
Bracing his muscular forearms on his knees, Con leaned forward in his chair. When he spoke, his fangs flashed as fiercely as his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“Your weekly blood tests for SF have been coming back negative,” Eidolon said. “Until yesterday.”
“ What?I have the disease?” Con exploded out of his chair, but Eidolon held up his hands in a stay-calm motion.
“Not exactly. It’s in your blood. Your body isn’t attacking it, nor is it attacking you, and you aren’t producing antibodies. But when we introduced Sin’s blood to the mix in the lab, your white blood cells and hers joined forces to attack the virus.”
Sin’s skin prickled with foreboding. Eidolon was dancing around something. “Skip the buildup and backstory. Bottom line, what do you want from us?”
“I need Con to feed from you,” he said with uncharacteristic awkwardness. “And I need it to happen now.”
I need Con to feed from you.
Con cursed softly. “As much as I’d like to help you out, Doc, I can’t do what you’re asking.” Yeah, he’d tasted Sin’s blood before—and it had been damned good—but that was exactly why he couldn’t do it again. He’d been addicted to a female’s blood before, and he would never allow it to happen again.