Blood Bond (21 page)

“Um, yes, Jeremiah DeLuca, leader of The
Cause. Married to Elizabeth Godfrey.”

He locked his hands behind his back and
chewed his lip, lost in thought. “Huh.”

He walked to the easel and began fiddling
with the bottles of paint. He selected a bottle and faced the
easel, a short distance away. He brought his arm back and, in a
look of deep concentration, flung the contents of the bottle at the
canvas. Cobalt paint splattered this way and that, mostly on the
floor beyond. He grunted and went back to his bottles.

“Sir?” I said when he didn’t speak again. “I
mean, Astor. My friend George was injected with a serum that’s
going to turn him into a Werewolf. It’s a dangerous mixture and his
body can’t handle it. If I don’t help him, he’s going to become a
monster, without any humanity or reason. I was told you might be
able to help us.”

“And who told you that?” he asked without
turning.

“Vera … and Miles DeLuca.”

A tremor went through Astor, a violent
tremble that shook him from shoulder to knees. He raised his hand
and pointed a bony finger at me. “Don’t you say that name to me.
That man is evil and I won’t lift a finger to help him. If you’re
working with him, you can forget it. Get out, get out!”

His demands turned into screams and I backed
away, at a loss. I had no idea what brought on the sudden outburst,
or how to fix it. Every time I opened my mouth to reassure him I
wasn’t working with Miles, he only screamed louder.

“Get out, get out!” he repeated. His hands
were clamped over his ears, drowning out my rebuttals.

I backed toward the door, trying to remember
the way out. Then I remembered Astor telling Jeeves to take George
to the east wing. I had no idea where that was. This house was
huge. I started to say that to Astor, but he continued to rail at
me. His screams drowned out my own. His eyes had gone wild and
unfocused and I ducked just in time to avoid taking an orange
bottle of paint in the face. I backed up and the flat surface of
the door brushed against me. I felt for the latch, afraid to take
my eyes off Astor, and ducked another bottle of paint.

I flung the door open, ready to flee, and
pulled up short. A familiar figure stood in the hall, blocking my
path. Her red hair hung in fiery waves around her shoulders, her
petite frame wrapped in a thin robe.

“Hello, Tara.”

I blinked. “Professor Flaherty?”

Her gaze flickered to Astor, who’d come up
behind me still ranting. “I see you’ve caught him at a bad time,”
she said. I nodded, unsure how else to respond. “Give me just a
moment, don’t go anywhere,” she said, sweeping past me.

She went to Astor and gently took his hands
away from where he’d held them over his ears. He kept his eyes on
hers as she spoke. I couldn’t hear the words but her tone was
gentle, soft. After a moment, his body went slack, as if he’d given
up the tantrum, and he let her lead him away. I stood aside as she
guided him down the hall.

“This way, Tara, if you don’t mind,” she
called as they passed. The way she leaned into him, the way he
responded to her, were they … a couple? It was too weird, and
unexpected, not to mention she was half his age. Then again, after
the shock of Vera and Kane, I couldn’t discount the
possibility.

Professor Flaherty took a different hallway
than the way we’d come. This one was narrower and lined with doors,
all closed, all the same shade of brown. Some were labeled with
small plaques on the wall beside them: “Lab 1,” “Lab 2,” and
“Supply.” She stopped before an unlabeled door and opened it. I
stood a fair distance away, feeling like an intruder as more
whispered words were exchanged. At last, she patted Astor’s arm and
he disappeared inside.

She walked back to where I waited, smiling.
“Sorry about that. He doesn’t do well with surprises,” she said. “I
was just on my way to get some tea. Would you like some?”

“Um, sure.”

“The kitchen is this way.”

I fell into step beside her as we made our
way back through the maze of halls. The sconce lamps became closer
together as we walked, and I thought I recognized the main hall I’d
come in through. We passed the foyer and the front door and
continued on, stepping down into a low-ceilinged room.

Professor Flaherty motioned to the small,
high-topped table against the wall and I sat and looked around.
Counters, cabinets, appliances—everything was white and modern and
made softer by the hanging lights set on dim.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, filling a
stainless steel teapot with water.

“Maybe later,” I said, ignoring the
emptiness in my stomach. “First …”

“First you want to know what I’m doing
here?” she finished.

I attempted a smile. “I’m a little
curious.”

Professor Flaherty continued making tea. Her
back was to me but the set of her shoulders was relaxed, as if
she’d anticipated my questions or, at the very least, didn’t mind
them. “He’s not entirely insane, you know,” she said while she
worked. “He has his good days and bad days.”

“I’m guessing today was not a good day?”

“Actually, it was, but then, he’s not used
to having midnight visitors, either. Or visitors at any time,
really.” She set the kettle on the burner and turned to face me.
“Aside from me, you’re the first in ten years.”

I gawked at her. “No one’s visited him in
ten years?”

“Close to it. I think it was Millie Hayes
from the Baptist Church. Or so Mathias tells me.”

“Mathias?” I repeated.

“Yes, he works for Astor, keeping up the
grounds and overseeing operations. Tall, thin, stooped
shoulders.”

“Astor told me his name was Jeeves.”

She laughed. “He likes to mess with Mathias.
They’ve been friends since childhood. It’s a unique
relationship.”

“So his name is Mathias?”

“Yes, though he’ll answer to almost anything
these days, with all of Astor’s nicknames. Anyway, Mathias tells me
all of the comings and goings when I’m away at school. According to
him, that sweet, old church lady was the last.”

“Oh.” I was trying to piece it together as
she talked. Did she mean she lived here—with Astor—

when she wasn’t teaching at Wood Point? “So
what did he do to her?”

“To whom?”

“The church lady. You said she was the last.
Did he … do something?”

“Oh, heavens, no.” She laughed. “I just
meant no one has come since, from the human world or otherwise. And
you can be sure no one will, especially from our world.”

“I see.” I couldn’t help but feel
relieved.

“And what about you?” she asked. “How did
you get here? And what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until
morning?”

She was poking in the fridge now, assembling
the makings of a sandwich. “George, my friend, he’s sick,” I
answered.

She paused to crinkle her brows. “George …
is that the hostage Miles used to get to you at Wood Point?”

I hesitated. Coming here to ask Astor for
help was one thing, but I had no idea where Professor Flaherty’s
true loyalties lay. What if I told her about George and she called
CHAS? Or Kane? I knew they were friends.

“Tara?” she prompted. Her face clouded.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me. I can keep a secret. As evidenced
by what you see before you.” She gestured to the room around us and
slid a plate in front of me: a turkey sandwich, with the works. My
stomach grumbled. I caved. On both counts.

“George’s sickness isn’t … human,” I said.
“Miles injected him with the serum he used to create the hybrids.
Only, it doesn’t work the same on humans. They can’t handle it.
They become something else. Something with no humanity. They aren’t
themselves anymore.” I spoke around mouthfuls of food.

Professor Flaherty didn’t seem to mind. Her
mouth was drawn and she tapped a finger against her chin, like she
was concentrating on the story.

“And you think Astor can help him how?”

“Miles told me there’s one way to help
George’s body adjust properly to the change. He said my blood would
heal him. I want to know if that’s true. And if not, I want to know
another way.”

“And where is George now?”

“Jeeves—I mean Mathias—put him in the east
wing when we got here. He’s sort of unconscious.” Her brows rose in
an unspoken question. “He was beginning to change in the car,
and—oh, my car!” I slapped my forehead. I’d completely
forgotten.

“Where is it?” she asked. I told her about
George fleeing and how we’d ended up here. “I’ll have Mathias
retrieve it in the morning.”

“Thanks.”

“You were saying? About George?”

“Oh, I had to chase him. I tried to get him
to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. I don’t even think he knew it was
me anymore. I had to knock him out in the driveway.”

“You hit him?” The corners of her mouth
twitched.

I nodded and grimaced. “In the face. He’s
going to kill me when he wakes up.”

She chuckled. “You’re always a surprise,
Tara. Your poor mother …” her smile faded. “Speaking of, does she
know you’re here? And Edie, your grandmother?”

“Yes,” I said, though the hesitation in my
voice was obvious.

“And they’re okay with you being here?”

“Define ‘okay.’”

She clicked her tongue. “I’m calling your
mother in the morning,” she said sternly. “She’s probably worried
sick. I know what people say about Astor, and I can’t imagine she’s
all right with you being here.”

I couldn’t argue with her calling my mom.
I’d always known at some point, they’d come to haul me back. I just
needed to make sure I had my answers before then. “Do you think
Astor will talk to me?” I asked.

“We won’t know that until tomorrow,” she
said. “He’s not the sort that can be made to do something against
his will. Miles contacted him, you know, a couple of years ago. He
wanted Astor to work for him, but Astor wouldn’t even let him in
the front door. I’m told there were a few letters, a phone call,
but he was adamant, didn’t even care about the project details.
He’d made up his mind.”

“That’s why he was so upset with me tonight.
He thinks I’m in league with Miles. He must think that’s how George
was injected.”

“We’ll get it all straightened out tomorrow.
In the meantime, let me see that hand.” I placed my hand in hers,
wincing at the sight of my bruising, swollen knuckles. The pain had
dulled to a low thud, but it flared again when she touched it.
“This needs ice and some ointment. Tell you what, you finish that
sandwich and I’ll go get the ointment and check on George.” She
walked to the door.

“George is going to need some ointment too.
His cheek was bleeding.”

She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips.
“What would your friends do without you?”

Chapter Twelve

A creak in the mattress jolted me upright
and goosebumps flared anew across my arms. I looked around, my
memory hazy until I felt the soft cushion of the armchair against
my back and remembered. Across the room, George shifted restlessly
in the king-sized bed. He’d tossed and turned most of the night.
The covers were a rumpled mess, knotted around him like a mummy
suit.

After Professor Flaherty finished with her
dose of first aid, she’d led me into a spare room, fully furnished,
the covers turned down. The dark walls and stylish artwork reminded
me of a five-star hotel. All I’d wanted was to sink between the
sheets and down comforter and fade into oblivion, but I couldn’t
get past my anxiety over George. He’d almost turned, and I wasn’t
convinced the process wouldn’t begin anew as soon as he woke. I
hadn’t been able to shake these goosebumps all night, a sure sign
George was now more Werewolf than human.

I’d spent the night in the chair, in a
corner of George’s room, watching him sleep. I’d spoken to Wes
twice but he’d made me hang up and promise to rest. Now my hand was
numb from propping up my chin while I dozed.

George’s blankets rustled again. He rolled
over so he was facing me and I saw his eyes were open—and stained
with yellow. I swallowed hard. He spotted me and his head came off
the pillow. He winced, his progress slowing as he sat up.

“Tay, what are you doing in here?”

I sat forward, shifting my weight in case I
needed to get up quickly. “How are you feeling?”

He frowned and seemed to be taking stock. He
wiggled his jaw, his fingers pressing against his swollen and
already bruising cheek. I hoped he liked the color purple. “Like I
got hit by a bus. What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” He shook his head.
“You started to shift last night, in the car, and then you ran. I
had to … subdue you.”

He blinked and stared back at me for a
minute. Slowly, understanding dawned. “You hit me?” He sounded more
surprised than angry.

I nodded, feeling awful. “It knocked you
out.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Remind
me not to get on your bad side.”

I sat up straighter. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not. Yeah, I’ve
got a headache from hell, but I’m still
me
. You saved me, Tay.” He sat up,
moving carefully, and swung his legs over the side of the
bed.

“I didn’t think of it like that,” I said. I
decided not to mention the yellow eyes just yet. Or the goosebumps.
I’d give him a moment to wake up. He stood and swayed on his feet.
I jumped up to help him but he waved me off.

“I’m good,” he said. “Besides, I don’t
really want an escort for where I’m going. Do you know where the
bathroom is?”

“Across the hall.”

I followed him as far as the hall and leaned
against the doorframe while I waited. Mathias appeared from around
the corner.

“Good morning, miss. Breakfast is in the
sunroom with Master DeLuca,” he said. His pajamas had been replaced
by a crisp white shirt and black pants. The suit jacket remained,
as did the lack of personality or facial expression.