though she knew that it was. Edge felt the knowledge in her mind, and knew Rhiannon did, as well. “The man in the boat was too far away to see clearly, even for us. Stiles’s body could have been swept out to sea.”
“But it wasn’t. It revived, he survived, and he lives still.”
“Maybe …”
“An ordinary mortal, Amber. Not even one of the chosen. The rumors, the whispers, they’re true. He made a serum from your blood, and he made himself indestructible. If it could be done once, it can be done again.”
The pretty one lowered her head. “We don’t know how he did it. There’s no formula in his notes. He told no one, not even his most trusted assistants, what he was doing. No one knows how he accomplished it—if he accomplished it—other than the man himself.”
Rhiannon seemed to consider that for a long moment. Then she said, “If you had the formula, would you let yourself be used in such a way?”
“I’d give anything to save Willem. How is this any different from offering a kidney or a bone marrow transplant? Of course I’d do it.”
Edge was stunned. Why would anyone be so willing to do so much for someone else? It made no sense to him. A small voice inside whispered that he would have done the same once, a long, long time ago. For his fledglings. For little Bridget. But God, he’d learned how foolish it was to care that deeply. All the caring in the world couldn’t prevent death when it came.
Rhiannon slid a hand over one of Amber’s. “Eric wants me to send all of Stiles’s journals down to him, along with a pint of your blood. He’s working tirelessly to unlock the formula.”
Amber nodded. “But he has copies of everything.”
“I know. I think he believes there may be something he’s missed, something a copy machine might not have picked up. A special ink, or perhaps some notes in the linings of the books. I don’t know.”
“Then we’ll send them. The blood, as well. But … what if he can’t do it in time?”
Rhiannon nodded. “I’m working on that. I’m going to find Stiles. And believe me—when I do, he will tell me his secrets.”
A little shiver rippled through Amber—Edge felt its echo in him. He also felt a rush of excitement. If Stiles’s immortality was the result of a serum made from the young woman’s blood, then the key to his weakness lay within her, as well. Everything the nurse had told him was true. He had to learn the girl’s secrets, even the ones she didn’t yet know herself. He had to learn what could kill her.
And he had to be around when they located Stiles.
So he could kill the man.
He didn’t think the imposing Rhiannon would be willing to take him along on her hunt for the man. But that didn’t matter. Rhiannon wasn’t going to find Stiles, he decided in that moment. Because Stiles was going to come here. Right here.
He had never had the chance to finish his experiments on the Child of Promise. It must have driven him to madness when she’d escaped. Like Amber Lily herself, Stiles might not yet know the full range of his powers. He might not even know his vulnerabilities. And that was something he would be burning to know.
Imagine, being unaware of what—if anything—could kill you.
No, Stiles was going to come here, because Edge had the perfect bait to bring him here. Amber Lily Bryant.
Alby.
He would win her trust. He would learn her secrets. He would put out the word that she was here, and then he would use her to lure the man he hated more than any other.
And then he would kill Frank Stiles. It would be easy.
“Rhiannon,” Amber said softly, as the older woman got to her feet. “You’ll have to be very careful with him. If you kill him, we’ll never learn his secrets.”
“Oh, I won’t kill him. I might make him beg me to kill him, but I won’t.”
Amber nodded.
“You’re needed here, Amber. Dante and Morgan are on their way, but Sarafina needs you here. So does Willem. There’s no one for him during the daylight hours. It’s not good, when he’s ill.”
Amber nodded.
“I’ll take the blood and the journals to Eric myself.”
“My parents are on their way to him, as well, in hopes they can be of some help.”
“Good. We’ll need all the help we can get.” Rhiannon lowered her head, smiling slightly. “If someone had told me I would one day be so desperate to save the life of a mortal, I’d have laughed in their face,” she said. “And yet, I cannot bear to see that bitch of a vampiress in this much pain.”
“It’s because she reminds you of yourself,” Amber said.
“Please, she doesn’t come close to me. I’m the daughter of a pharoah. A princess of Egypt.”
“She’s tough as nails, arrogant and slightly ruthless.”
Rhiannon lowered her head. “And yet she’s reduced to.” She cast a glance upward, toward the second floor bedroom. “I can hardly bear to see her this way.”
“I know.” Amber lowered her head. She sighed. “So when do you want to leave?”
“As soon as Willem returns.” She sighed. “I suppose it’s a good thing that stubborn mortal insisted on going to tonight’s appointment on his own. He must have known Sarafina needed to vent some of this.”
“And that she would never do it in front of him,” Amber added with a nod. “Do you know how to draw blood, Rhiannon?” Amber rolled up a shirtsleeve as she asked the question.
Rhiannon laughed softly, and Amber, realizing the irony of asking what she just had of a vampire, laughed, as well. Then her aunt nodded. “Eric gave me rather detailed instructions. I have everything we need in my room. Paid a late-night visit to a medical clinic in Salem.”
“Let’s get it done, then,” Amber said, getting to her feet.
Edge, drawn against his will, had to see this for himself. He crept up to the house, opening his senses to determine their location within. Then he crept inside, up to the bedroom, and watched while Rhiannon tied a rubber tourniquet around Amber’s upper arm. She inserted a needle in the crook of Amber’s elbow, then released the band.
Scarlet nectar flowed from her pink, healthy flesh, filling the tube and spilling into the plastic bag at its end. It ran in time with her pulse, increasing in pressure each time her heart beat. Edge’s hunger gnawed at him, and his eyes would not move away from the rush of blood into that bag. He licked his lips. His passion stirred. How he would love to taste her. Just once.
“That should do,” Rhiannon said when the bag was full. She removed the needle, pressed a cotton gauze pad to the tiny pinprick and bent the girl’s arm over it. Then she gathered the other items. “Lie here for a while. I’ll put this away and bring you some juice.”
Edge
