Blood Bond (25 page)

“A conductor,” I repeated. I was bombarded
with mental images of Ben Franklin wielding a kite in a lightning
storm. “Like for electricity?”

“Electricity is one example, but it can be
harnessed into many different things. Heat, lights, and what we use
it for: power. Think of it more as being a conduit for energy.”

“Where does the energy come from?”

“The term is ‘band theory.’ It’s the idea
that metal is made up of energy bands, its two major components
being electrons and neutrons. Just as a Werewolf is made up of two
sides, so is the energy used to destroy them.”

“The second spirit,” I said, remembering
Logan’s explanation.

“Exactly. Both forms of energy are highly
powerful. So powerful that it’s impossible for both to occupy the
same space at the same time. One always wins out. The trick is to
purify the metal so its energy becomes more powerful than the
energy of the Werewolf’s second spirit.”

“And once you’ve killed their second spirit,
the human spirit immediately follows,” I finished.

“Typically, the human spirit is weaker than
the wolf’s. The lesser the metal used, the more force is needed, or
the more precise the wound. The stronger the metal, the less
precise one needs with the kill shot.”

“And my dad found a way to somehow make me
immune to all of it. Does that make me … immortal?”

She laughed. “Not quite. It just makes you
harder to kill. It was a way to protect you. I can only imagine
what you must think, hearing this for the first time, and without
him here to explain himself. I am so sorry for your loss.”

We were nearing the deck again, having
covered the trail twice over. I was almost glad when the canopy
gave way to sunlit sky and the dry air sucked the moisture of the
plants away. Without the humidity, the heat felt bearable.

“Thank you for being honest with me, for
explaining it,” I said. I thought of my mother and her habit of
dishing details after I already knew, and Grandma, who was probably
already on a plane by now, but not necessarily to stand by me or
divulge any truths. “No one else has,” I added.

“To be fair, I’m not sure they know.
According to Astor, your father’s intention was to leave them in
the dark as a protective measure. If the information fell into the
wrong hands, he knew it could bring you harm. His whole purpose was
to avoid that. For you and you mother.”

“You think she doesn’t know?”

“I think it’s worth giving her the benefit
of the doubt,” she said as she climbed the deck stairs. I joined
her at the railing. “He wanted you to follow in his footsteps, to
maybe do what he couldn’t. Someone born of both sides would gain
the ear of the Werewolves for sure, but he knew Hunters were much
more stubborn, more close-minded, and more unified in their
prejudices. His decision to send your wolf side into dormancy was
another layer of protection. Not only would it ensure you’d grow up
as one of us, it would protect you from the prying eyes of CHAS and
maybe even secure you a place with them before that side of you
became known.”

She patted my hand. “I’m going to check on
Astor. I’ll find you after you’ve had some time.”

She began to turn away. I touched her hand
and looked up at her. The sun beat down on her hair, making it
shine and shimmer so hard, I blinked against it. “Thank you,” I
said. She nodded, and I watched her disappear inside.

I turned back to the railing, staring out
over the golden canvas of the desert. Here and there, small plants
rose from the ground, defying the dryness and relentless sun in
their will to survive. I felt connected to them for that even as I
wondered exactly who I would defy in my desire to live.

Chapter Fourteen

In the end, the decision was easy. It always
would be. I had to save George. Whatever bond or connection we
developed as a result, we’d figure out later.

I found George waiting for me just inside
the doors. He looked like he was finishing up lunch. “How much did
you eat?” I asked.

He stood and patted his stomach. “Do you
think Werewolves eat more than humans?”

“I think you just proved they did.”

He grinned, but it faded quickly. “How’d it
go with your teacher?”

“Good, I guess. At least I know Astor’s
telling the truth about everything.”

“He’s crazy, not a liar.”

“I’m beginning to see there’s a
difference.”

“So what do we do now?” he asked. Hands
stuffed in his pockets, he rocked back and forth from heels to
toes.

“Now, we fix you.”

He stopped rocking. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, don’t be an idiot.” For
some reason, the fact that he’d doubted my answer irritated me.

“But, Astor said we’d bond—”

“I know what Astor said. I don’t care if it
joins us at the hip. I’m saving you like I promised.”

A slow smile spread across his face, the
kind that lit his eyes and used to make my heart beat faster. That
was then.

“Thanks, Tay.”

I smiled too, but it lacked depth. My eyes
locked on his, on the eerie yellow emanating from them. Were they
brighter than they had been this morning? I was watching him inch
closer and closer to the edge. Only now, I could pull him back to
safety. “Thank me when we’re done.” I couldn’t allow myself to feel
happy yet, not until I knew whatever we were about to do actually
worked. “Let’s go find Astor.”

Mathias appeared as soon as we reached the
hall. He guided us to the lab, where he said Astor had gone, and
disappeared again as soon as we’d reached the door.

“How does he do that?” George asked.

I didn’t answer. I noticed George’s foot
tapping against the carpet as I pushed the lab door open.

It took me a moment to spot Astor. He sat on
a stool in the far corner, bent over a mess of paperwork. Professor
Flaherty stood next to him, calling out figures as he recorded
them. She looked up as we approached.

“Hi,” I said.

She smiled at me and laid a hand on Astor’s
arm. He jumped, but she directed her words to George. “George,
would you please give me a hand with something across the
hall?”

He cocked his head at me, questioningly. I
nodded.

“Sure,” he answered.

The door closed behind them. Astor looked up
at me. “Well?”

“I want to do the transfusion,” I said.

He dropped his pen and glared at me. “Why in
the hell would you want to do that?” he snapped.

“Because he’s my family, my best
friend.”

“That’s the worst reason I ever heard. Worse
than the idea itself.”

“Saving his life is a bad idea?” I didn’t
know whether to be angry or confused.

“Tying his life to yours, and yours to his,
that’s the kick in the teeth.” The expression he’d worn earlier,
the veil of misery, returned.

“You must have really loved her,” I said
quietly. I held my breath, waiting for him to change the subject or
scream or run away.

“Don’t sass me or I won’t help you,” he said
in a gruff voice. I met his eyes and found them alert and
steady.

“I wasn’t—” I stopped, a smile forming on my
lips. “You know, I’m convinced you’re not nearly as crazy as you’d
like everyone to believe.”

“I’ll be as crazy as it takes.” The moment
of clarity vanished, and the mask was back in place. He stuck out
his tongue, picked up his pen, and went back to work. I stood
there, unsure what to say next. “Well, don’t just stand there.
Fetch me the boy.”

I grinned and hurried into the hallway.
Professor Flaherty and George were walking back, their hands full
of syringes, clear plastic tubes, towels, and plastic vials.
“Ready?” she asked me.

“I—how’d you know?”

“I’ve known him a very long time,” she said.
I followed them back inside and watched as Professor Flaherty set
everything up. “I may need more room,” she said to Astor. He
frowned and then with one hand, reached out and swept the contents
of half of a table onto the floor. Beakers broke, papers fluttered
everywhere. Professor Flaherty just looked at him.

“What?” he demanded. Then he seemed to break
under the pressure of her gaze. “Jeeves!” he yelled. I jumped.
“Jeeves!”

Mathias appeared in the doorway, a broom and
dustpan in hand. Without a word, he swept up the broken glass and
replaced the paperwork neatly on another surface. “Will that be
all?” he asked. Astor grunted and Mathias left.

“Let’s get on with it,” Astor said. He
motioned to the stool and I sat. The sound of George’s foot tapping
grew louder.

“I think I need some air,” he said abruptly.
We all looked at him. His eyes were definitely a darker shade of
yellow.

“You’re a little on the glowy side, son,”
said Astor.

“Tara, can you handle this while I walk with
George?” Professor Flaherty asked me.

“Sure, go ahead,” I said.

George turned to follow her out and I
grabbed his arm. I tried to ignore the foreign look in his eyes and
searched the rest of his face for signs of the real George. “Just
hold on a few more minutes,” I whispered. “We’re almost there.”

He nodded and then he was gone.

I felt the pressure of a tourniquet being
tied on my upper arm. “Pump your fist,” Astor instructed. I obeyed
and watched as he unwrapped a fresh syringe from the packaging and
then poked and prodded at the veins in the crook of my elbow. He
grunted, apparently meaning he’d found one he liked. He positioned
the needle tip and paused with it hovering over my skin.

“No going back after this,” he said.

“I’m aware.”

He cleared his throat. “In that case, I’d
like to take a few extra samples. For research.”

I thought about that. “On one condition. You
have to share all of your findings with me. No more secrets.”

We regarded each other for a moment, his
eyes sharper than I’d seen before, and I had no doubt of his
lucidity in that moment. He nodded. “Deal.”

Then he stuck me.

The blood drawing process was over quickly.
I stood but my knees buckled and tiredness washed over me. Astor
shoved a package of cookies at me, demanding I eat them. Halfway
through the second stale Oreo, the dizziness eased.

Astor worked quickly, labeling and storing
the vials. Three he left out on the table. Four others he labeled
and put in a small refrigerator against the wall.

Professor Flaherty and George returned. He
didn’t look much better, but he was hanging on. His tapping had
intensified.

“Have a seat,” Professor Flaherty told him,
gesturing to the stool. Astor wound the tourniquet around George’s
bicep and pulled it tight. When his mouth tightened into a hard
line, I stepped up to his other side and took his hand.

“You’re going to have to sit still, boy,”
Astor told him, preparing a needle. Professor Flaherty worked on
his other side, preparing what looked like an IV bag with clear
fluids.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“A way to feed the blood into his system,”
she said. “Astor will attach an IV and let the blood drip slowly,
mixed with fluid. He won’t feel a thing after the initial
stick.”

“You’ve gotta hold still,” I said to George.
“Can you do that?”

His hand tightened in mine and his fingers
stilled against my knuckles. “For a second.”

I nodded at Astor and he slid the needle
in.

George jerked a little but the needle stayed
in place. I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, hard enough I had
to release my pressure and grit my teeth. I’d probably have a
bruise later. I’d forgotten his strength had increased so much.

Professor Flaherty hung the IV bag on a
metal hook and cleaned up the work area. By the time she’d
finished, so had the bag of fluids.

I looked at George. “How do you feel?”

He yawned. “Tired.”

Astor nodded. “The transfusion won’t hold
off the change. It’s coming, sooner rather than later, I’d
say.”

“But for now,” Professor Flaherty said,
“you’re going to be sleepy. Would you like to lie down?”

He looked at me. I nodded at him. “Might as
well,” I said.

“Thanks.” He hopped off the stool and
steadied himself. His eyelids drooped. “I’ll catch up with you
later,” he said.

Professor Flaherty offered to walk him back
to his room, and he followed her out. I stood still even after the
lab door swung shut behind them. I felt empty, like the crash after
a rush of adrenaline. All of that buildup, the days and weeks I’d
searched in vain for another solution, the long trip here, and then
the truth that had been thrown at me in all directions since
arriving—all of it had led here. To a small, silent moment with an
empty IV bag. And supposedly, George would be fine.

I did a mental check, trying to sense if any
sort of bond existed between us. I didn’t feel anything. Maybe
Astor had exaggerated. It seemed likely. All I felt was a slight
tingle at the back of my neck, a feeling that had started somewhere
around West Virginia, I think, and had persisted throughout the
trip. I’d grown pretty good at ignoring it.

Chapter Fifteen

Mathias was, for once,
nowhere to be found. I wound my way to the front hall somewhere
around the third backtrack. . I was tempted to suggest they
color-code the carpets. This house was ridiculous. Then again,
it
was
sort of
perfect for Astor’s personality.

Finally, I recognized the entryway and
spotted the front door. I pulled it open and stepped out, letting
it click shut behind me. Wes had texted during George’s transfusion
to say he’d be here soon, and I felt anxious. I hadn’t wanted to
tell him via text about my decision to go ahead with George’s
transfusion. I’d thought it would be better in person. Now that the
time was approaching, I wasn’t so sure. What would he think about
this supposed bond? Astor hadn’t been very specific with the
details, but the way he’d lost his grip on reality after losing
Mary Beth spoke volumes.