Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [1091]
How did I end up being guardian of the bathtub for Damian once we reached my house? He’d gone into convulsions, and only my touch had calmed him. We’d gotten him to my house with Nathaniel riding in the back, cradling Damian. They’d filled the bathtub with hot, hot water, and I’d left Asher in charge of Damian’s care. I’d done my part, I’d brought him back to himself. I had a bandage over my left breast to prove that I’d donated my piece of flesh and blood for the night. Zane and Merle were on their way to the lycanthrope hospital, with Micah and Cherry to oversee them. Everyone else had trooped back to my house, and everything had seemed fine, until screams from the bathroom brought me running.
Damian had been beating himself against the floor, convulsing like he’d tear himself apart, vomiting blood on the tile. Asher and Nathaniel had been fighting to hold him down, to keep him from hurting himself, but they couldn’t hold him. I knelt to help, and the moment I touched him, he quieted. I’d withdrawn my hand, and his body had bucked again, hands scrambling at the slick tile. I’d touched his shoulder, and he calmed. We’d tried letting him take blood from Caleb, but the moment I stopped touching him, his body rejected the blood, and everything else. The last time I’d stopped touching him, Damian had simply gone quiet, and I had felt him beginning to fade, to die.
We’d dragged Damian into the steaming bath water, and I’d held him. He had recovered, but only with me holding him while my clothes stuck to my body.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.
Asher had answered, “I’ve only seen this reaction between master and servant.”
“I’m Damian’s master, so what? It shouldn’t cause this, should it?”
“No, ma cherie, not merely master, but master vampire and human servant.”
“Damian is not my master,” I said.
“Damian is no one’s master,” Asher said quietly, gazing down at us from the edge of the tub. He was sitting in a pool of the blood that had poured out of Damian.
“What are you saying, Asher?”
“You have made him your servant.”
“He can’t be a human servant, he’s a vampire,” I said.
“I did not say human servant, ma cherie.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“A . . . vampire servant for a master necromancer, I think.”
“You think?” I made it a question.
“We are dealing with things of legend, ma cherie, things that should not be possible. I am having to . . . guess at this.”
“Guess?” I said.
He sighed. “If I said that I knew for certain what has happened, it would be a lie. I would never lie to you on purpose.”
I had protested, demanded, but nothing I could do or say made it untrue. I had a vampire servant, and that was impossible. But impossible or not, Damian lay against my body, clinging to me, like I was the last hope he had.
Asher glided back into the bathroom, wearing a beach towel wrapped around him. The towel was big enough to cover him from armpits to mid-calf, effectively hiding his body. Hiding the scars. “My clothes are covered in blood. I hope you do not mind.”
I hated wearing bloody clothes myself, so, “Fine, glad you found a towel you liked.”
He glanced down at the colorful towel. “I do not fit in your robe.”
I was sorry Asher felt like he had to hide himself away, but I had other things to worry about. “I think if I don’t get cooler soon I’m either going to throw up or pass out.”
He knelt by the tub, smoothing the long towel under his knees in a gesture that you don’t see much in men. He touched my face lightly. “You are flushed.” He touched Damian. “His skin is still cooler than it should be.” He frowned. “You need to take off some of your clothing, especially the jeans, I would think.”
Normally, I go to great lengths not to be unclothed in front of all the boys, but tonight I was willing to strip down a little. “How do I undress and still hold him?”
“I believe that one of us could hold him against you while you disrobed.”
“You really think that he’ll go into convulsions again?”
“You could release him, and