Home > Twice Bitten (Argeneau #27)(23)

Twice Bitten (Argeneau #27)(23)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Wyatt glanced down at the knife in his hand. He’d forgot he still had it. Now he felt like a fool. A security blanket? The description made him think of Linus from Charlie Brown with his blanket against his face and his thumb in his mouth. Grimacing, he set the paring knife on the corner of G.G.’s desk and then paced back to the door, before swinging back to ask, “But Elspeth can’t control me? You’re sure about that?”

“She tried when you first came into The Night Club,” G.G. told him. “Mortals aren’t really welcome here. At least, not if they do not know about immortals. She tried to take control of you and send you out of the club, but couldn’t. She admitted that while you were in the men’s room.”

“Oh,” Wyatt frowned at this news. For a moment, he’d thought he found the explanation for that strange disassociated feeling he’d experienced when he’d found himself on the porch with her jacket in hand, and then when he’d pressed her face to his throat. He’d thought perhaps she’d controlled him, but if G.G. was right, it couldn’t have been her.

Martine, he thought suddenly as he recalled Elspeth’s words to her mother in front of the house. The using him business had obviously been about Elspeth’s literally biting him. From what he could sort out, Martine had wanted her daughter to bite him to get the blood she’d been in need of. Probably because of her getting stabbed, he guessed. As for the Council and execution part of the conversation, he suspected biting wasn’t allowed and might be punishable by death or something. He supposed he’d have to ask if that were the case.

“It is.”

Wyatt glanced to Tybo uncertainly. “What is?”

“Biting mortals is against Council law here in North America except in cases of an emergency,” Tybo explained. “And it is punishable by death. Martine should not have been trying to talk Elspeth into doing it.”

“I’m thinking we should tell Mortimer about that,” Valerian said quietly. “From what I’m reading from Wyatt’s memory, she didn’t just try to talk Elspeth into it. She took control of them both and tried to force it.”

Wyatt glanced at him sharply as he wondered what else she’d controlled. Had she made them kiss? It was possible, he supposed, but he didn’t think she’d controlled their response to the kiss.

“Why would she do something like that?” Rachel asked with dismay, distracting him. “It could have got Elspeth executed.”

“Elspeth seemed to think Martine was trying to get her thrown out of the country and sent back to England,” Wyatt told them solemnly as he recalled the argument he’d overheard.

“Really?” Rachel asked with amazement, and then shook her head. “I’d heard Martine had some control issues, but that’s seriously messed up.”

“Yeah, but that business about her getting stabbed might have pushed Martine over the edge,” G.G. commented quietly, and when all eyes turned to him, he explained, “Elspeth was apparently stabbed this morning. And Martine is pretty overprotective. That would have freaked her out.”

Tybo’s phone rang just as the screaming died abruptly in the next room.

Spinning on his heel, Wyatt hurried to the door, yanked it open and rushed across the kitchen to peer down at Elspeth with concern. Much to his surprise, most of her injuries appeared to have healed. The shallower gashes and abrasions that had covered her were gone, while the deeper, more serious one had healed into scabs and some even to scars. Even her face was healing, her features beginning to look like hers again. At least, she was recognizable as herself now. But she was also dead still and silent.

“Is she all right?” he asked fretfully when Rachel appeared beside him and began to examine Elspeth.

“Yes,” Rachel said with a smile. “She’s still healing, but the worst of it is over now. She should sleep through the rest.”

“Good,” Tybo said, putting his phone away as he joined them. “Because we have to get Elspeth home.”

“What?” Wyatt asked with surprise.

“Martine is going ballistic. She’s been calling Elspeth for hours and not gotten a response.”

Wyatt’s eyes widened. “I don’t even know where her phone is. Or her purse.”

“Probably strewn all over the road,” G.G. said with a frown. “I doubt anything in her purse survived.”

“The point is, Martine couldn’t reach Elspeth,” Tybo said, and then glanced to Wyatt and added, “And when she found out your grandmother couldn’t get ahold of you either, she called Mortimer in a panic.”

Cursing, Wyatt pulled out his phone and saw that he had twelve missed calls. He hadn’t heard it ring, but then, between the loud music and Elspeth’s screaming . . .

“I wouldn’t bother calling your grandmother,” Rachel said soothingly when he started to punch buttons to do just that. “Martine has probably taken control and soothed her already. She wouldn’t have wanted her to call the police about the two of you going missing. Immortals avoid getting the authorities involved in anything.”

“Did Mortimer tell Martine what happened and where Elspeth is?” G.G. asked with concern.

Tybo nodded. “She was going to head straight here, but Mortimer assured her we’d take her home at once.”

“Elspeth’s car’s in the parking lot across the street,” Wyatt told them.

“But her keys were probably in her purse,” Tybo pointed out.

“Nope,” Rachel said, pulling them from Elspeth’s jacket pocket. “Unfortunately, they’re as wrecked as she was,” she added, grimacing as she looked through the broken bits of plastic and bent keys.

“We’ll take her home in our SUV and arrange for her car to be picked up and new keys to be made tomorrow,” Valerian said, taking the mess from her. Glancing to Elspeth, he asked, “You’re sure she’s through the pain part and won’t suddenly come to screaming life in the car on the way to her place?”

Rachel hesitated and then sighed. “You know these things aren’t always predictable. She should be done, but . . .” She shrugged helplessly.

“We’ll keep her chained for the ride,” Tybo decided. “And I’ll sit with her in the back to be sure she doesn’t wake up and cause problems.”

Valerian nodded and then glanced at Wyatt. “Are you okay to drive?”

“Of course,” he said at once. “I wasn’t the one hurt.”

“Yeah, but it’s after 1 a.m. and it’s been a long day for you,” Tybo pointed out.

Wyatt’s eyes widened incredulously. But he checked his phone again and saw that it was nearly one thirty in the morning. He had no idea where the last six and a half hours had gone. It hadn’t seemed like he’d been here that long.

“I’ll drive him,” Rachel offered. “It’s on our way home anyway.” She glanced to Sam then and added, “If that’s okay with you?”

“Sure. I’ll follow and take you home from there,” Sam said easily.

“It’s all settled then,” G.G. commented, and Wyatt noted the amusement on the man’s face. The giant obviously thought it was funny how the immortals were settling his life for him, but Wyatt didn’t care in that moment and allowed himself to be ushered from The Night Club.

It wasn’t until he was in the passenger seat of his rental, following Tybo and Valerian’s dark SUV home, that it occurred to him to wonder if he really wasn’t upset at having his life decided for him, or if someone had taken control and ensured he would go along with their plans without causing a fuss. Wyatt had barely had the thought when he suddenly found himself growing weary, closing his eyes, and drifting off to sleep.

Seven

Elspeth was smiling when she opened her eyes, the remnants of sleep clinging and leaving her feeling sated and drowsy. She couldn’t remember her dreams, but despite that was reluctant to wake up fully and abandon them, so let her eyes drift closed again. Only to have them pop open once more when a loud laugh disturbed her peaceful dozing.

Recalling to her unwanted guests, Elspeth groaned and dragged her pillow over her head, but when she felt a tug and pinch at her inner elbow, immediately pushed it away again to look at her arm. She stared with confusion at the catheter taped just below the bend of her arm and then followed the tube up to an empty IV bag that hung from a stand next to the bed. More disturbing than that, though, were the dried streaks of blood on her arm . . . and hand and fingers, she saw with a frown. On both arms and hands and sets of fingers, Elspeth realized as she reached to pull the catheter out of her arm.

   
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