Vampire Mine - Kerrelyn Sparks [12]
“Of course it was violent. She was bloody well wounded.”
Laszlo frowned as he fiddled with a button on his lab coat. “The two wounds are perfectly symmetrical. I would wager the lengths are exactly the same down to the millimeter. This sort of precision would not occur in a normal fight.”
“Laszlo makes a good point.” Roman selected two forceps off the surgical tray and gently examined one of the wounds.
“What are ye doing?” Connor asked. “Ye should be closing the wounds, no’ opening them.”
Roman drew in a sharp breath. “Laszlo, look at this.”
Laszlo nudged Connor aside so he could get closer. “What is that? Some sort of bone or cartilage?”
“Yes,” Roman whispered. “And it’s been severed.”
Laszlo straightened with a jerk and grabbed a button on his lab coat. “I’ve never seen anything like that on a human.” He turned to Connor, his eyes wide. “What have you brought here?”
Connor swallowed hard. She wasn’t human? He touched a lock of her hair. She felt so human.
“Is there anything else you know about her?” Roman asked. “Did you hear anything—”
“They were arguing.” Connor closed his eyes briefly, struggling to remember everything that had happened before he’d been blasted into a tree and had the sense knocked out of his head. “The man, Zack, was yelling at her. She had disobeyed three times. She was being banished.” He opened his eyes and gazed down on her beautiful face. “He called her Marielle.”
Roman’s eyes widened, then his gaze dropped to her wounds. “God’s blood,” he whispered. “Surely it can’t be.”
“What?” Connor asked.
Roman stepped back, his face pale. “Gabriel, Michael, Rafael.”
Laszlo shook his head, nervously twirling the button on his lab coat. “No. Just because her name happens to rhyme, that doesn’t mean—”
The clinic doors swung open, and Shanna ran to the sink to wash her hands. “Why didn’t you call me? I just heard about the injured woman. Emma thought the Malcontents might have tortured her.”
Connor shot a worried look at Roman. The medieval monk appeared awestruck. Laszlo was clutching a button so hard his knuckles were white. If they were thinking what Connor suspected they were thinking, they had to be wrong.
Shanna dried her hands and grabbed a pair of synthetic gloves. “Why so quiet?” She gasped. “She hasn’t died, has she?”
“Nay,” Connor said. “She’s unconscious.”
Shanna snapped on the gloves as she approached. She grimaced at the sight of the wounds. “How terrible. Did you give her a local anesthetic?”
Roman shook his head. “No.”
“I think you should before you stitch up the wounds,” Shanna said.
“I’m not sure what to do,” Roman murmured. “I think we’d better call Father Andrew.”
“Why?” Shanna’s eyes widened. “You mean for Last Rites? Surely we can save her.” She placed her hand on Marielle’s head in a protective gesture. Her eyes rolled up, and she crumpled.
“Shanna!” Roman grabbed her as she fell.
“Oh my!” Laszlo rushed toward them.
“Shanna?” Roman patted her face. Her limp body sagged in his arms, and he settled her on the floor. “Shanna?”
Connor watched, his innards growing cold with horror. He didn’t want to believe his eyes. Or his ears, for no matter how hard he strained, he could barely hear a heartbeat. Laszlo had to be thinking the same thing, because he fell to his knees and grabbed Shanna’s wrist to feel for a pulse.
“Shanna!” Roman screamed and shook her.
“Sir,” Laszlo told him quietly. “She’s fading fast.”
“No! She’s going to be fine. She— Oh, God.” He seized his wife’s face. “Shanna, wake up!”
“Roman!” Laszlo shouted, his eyes glittering with emotion. “She’s dying.”
Roman glared at him. “No. She just fainted, that’s all. She—”
“She’s going to die,” Laszlo yelled. “You have to change her now!”
“It’s too soon! The children are too young. Sofia’s only two!”
“You have no choice,” Laszlo gritted out.
Roman shuddered, then gazed down at his wife. “Oh God! I can’t lose her.” He looked wildly about the room, and his gleaming eyes landed on Connor.