The Reluctant Vampire - Lynsay Sands [76]
Mirabeau smiled. “Well that sounds perfect; why don’t you two take Stephanie out there and watch a movie or something?” When Drina hesitated and glanced toward Tiny, Mirabeau glanced at her watch, and said, “It’s only fifteen minutes until the next shift, and Tiny seems quiet enough for now. We should be fine.”
Drina checked her own watch and said, “It’s time for his next shot in five minutes. I’ll get it ready and give it to him before we go.” Standing, she glanced over her shoulder to Stephanie, and suggested, “Why don’t you run down and get us some snacks or something? Maybe pick a move from the DVD collection in the living room.”
“On it!” the girl said, cheerful now, apparently at the prospect of a respite from the constant voices and energy. She stood and rushed out of the room.
Silence fell briefly in the room as Drina prepared a needle, and then Mirabeau said solemnly, “This isn’t good.”
“No,” Harper agreed on a sigh.
Drina didn’t comment. She knew what they were referring to. Stephanie’s abilities. Harper had tried to sway it like they were a good thing, a special ability she’d been blessed with, but the truth was it might be a curse.
There were very few edentate in their society, most were from the time of the fall of Atlantis or shortly after. Very few had come afterward for the simple reason that male edentates never turned mortals. If they found a mortal life mate, the council assigned an immortal the task of turning that mortal rather than create another edentate with the flawed nanos. Any offspring they then had took on the mother’s blood and nanos and would be immortal as well.
The same was true for female edentates, except if they did have children, that baby would take on its mother’s blood and nanos and so would be edentate.
The council hadn’t outlawed edentates having children, but most refused to do so for fear of having to watch their progeny die or be killed as a mad thing. There had been a few born, but not more than a handful since the fall of Atlantis. They were rare. Between that and the length of time since the no-fangers had been believed to be wiped out, little was known about the madness that turned an edentate into the dreaded no-fanger. It was usually assumed that in a turn, the madness was evident as soon as the turn was done, that the turnee came out of it screaming mad. However, there were rumors and legends that suggested it might not be that abrupt, that they could still come out of the turn seemingly fine, but then shortly thereafter go mad, driven there by something, though the tales had never specified what that something might be.
Drina had always disregarded the rumors as ghost stories told around a campfire, but now wondered if constantly being bombarded by people’s thoughts and these energy waves and the electricity Stephanie spoke of might not be the cause. She hoped not. She liked Stephanie and wouldn’t want to have to see her put down like a rabid dog.
“Lucian will have to be told,” Mirabeau said quietly, when Drina didn’t comment, and then added, “Maybe he knows a way to help her.”
Drina tightened her lips and bent to give Tiny his shot. Once Lucian was told . . . If there was something he could do for her, she didn’t doubt he would. But if there wasn’t, she also didn’t doubt that he wouldn’t hesitate to put the girl down.
“She needs to be taught to block thoughts,” Drina said grimly as she straightened. “Nobody has bothered because new turns usually need to be taught to read thoughts, not block them. But teaching her how to shield herself from other immortals’ thoughts might help considerably. I’d rather try that first than tell Lucian just yet.”
“To tell the truth, so would I,” Mirabeau admitted quietly. “But if Lucian comes down here and reads that we knew there was something