Page 106 of Black Bird

“And one bag of this would have done all that?”

Conrad snorted. “For a brilliant man, you’re about as dumb as it gets. Do you think I wanted you to be with a girl like her because of the attention it would get? We had thesourcesleeping in your damn bed! And then you went and grew a fucking heart, instead of a pair of nuts.”

Brent stepped toward him, the bag sloshing as he moved. It made him want to vomit. “You would have had me use my ownwifelike this? Did you really think that was the kind of man I was?” Brent yelled as he pointed at the bag in his hand. “This blood belongs to a person, Dad!A person!She is a fucking human being!”

His father pushed off of the mantle and took a step toward him. “Is she? Are you sure about that?” He smirked. “You don’t live in the world you believe you do, Brent.”

Brent lowered his brows. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you have any idea what attacked your little harlot outside that club that night?”

“They haven’t figured that out yet.”

Conrad smiled. “Oh, they have. You don’t find it odd that all these bodies are still popping up? All these missing people? Sarah wasn’t the first one with that bite. She’s just the first one they had thatlived… and she only lived because of that blood in your hand.”

“They never confirmed that it was any kind of bi—”

“It’s a bite, Brent. And one that no one can live through, no matter the circumstances. You either die because they drain you dry … or you die because of the poison of what they are.”

Brent swallowed and felt the blood drain from his face. “They?” he asked hoarsely.

“Your girl was attacked by a vampire. And before you ask … you heard me right. That club is full of them. I know this because—” He paused. “Because I’m working with them.”

He felt his body start shaking. With rage, or utter disbelief, he wasn’t sure. “Are you out of your fuckingmind?!” Brent stormed forward. “Even if I believed you, what in God’s name would make you do something like that?” he demanded.

Conrad shrugged, seemingly void of any concern. “We were after similar things. They want to extend their immortality into daylight … I want mine in fame. But all of us were after the same person.”

“You … are a fucking monster,” Brent seethed, pointing at his father’s chest. “Mom would never want that cure if this is what you would do to get it. You know that.”

“Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe you’re right. But the rest of the world would care less. They want a cure. They want deliverance.”

“And you wanted to be their savior,” Brent finished.

“Precisely.”

He watched his father turn back to his chair and casually sit, crossing his ankle over his knee as if he hadn’t just told him the most impossible of things. The bag of blood became an unbearable weight in his hand. “What are you gonna do with this?” he dared ask.

“I’m going to give it to you. Let you decide where this goes from here. Seems fitting now that you’ve helped to ruin me.”

“Me?” Brent asked.

Conrad looked over his shoulder. “Yes.You.” He turned his body and stared him down. “Now you can figure out what kind of man you are. You can give it to your mother. You can save her life. You can give it to a ten-year-old girl that’s rotting in a hospital uptown, which by the way … made it very clear to Gretchen and I that you were her hero and demanded to meet you as the only condition in trying this blood. Or …” He shrugged. “You can give it back to the little bitch. Wash your hands of it altogether and do with that knowledge whatever you wish. It’s your choice, now.” He turned back toward the fireplace and picked his glass up from the table, swirling the scotch inside it.

“How did you get this?” Brent asked after a short silence.

Conrad chuckled. “Her nitwit boss.”

“Specter?”

“The one and only. I paid him a great deal to get me files on your girlfriend’s mother and the research that the government sealed about her disease. He was never able to figure anything out and gave both the coven leader and I a bag of blood each. She used it on one of her folks, and I’ve saved that one for the benefit.”

Images of the picture of Sarah and her mother from the apartment flashed through his mind. Sarah never wanted to talk about it. “What does her mother have to do with any of this?”

“Well … maybe you should ask her,” Conrad replied dryly. “Take it and get the hell out of my house.”

He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to think of everything his father had just unpacked and slammed over his head. His mind was racing. His pulse hardly kept up. Brent left the study without another word, the condensation from the blood bag dampening his palm. As he made his way down the dark hall, he passed the unlit library where he last saw his mother. Brent paused, peering in. If his mother knew that there was a little girl that could benefit from something like this … she’d never allow someone to use it on her. She had always been an advocate for the sick. Especially the children. She’d never accept this. He knew that. Brent continued down the hall and through the front door, hurtling down the front steps and slamming his car door shut. He opened his briefcase in the passenger seat and tucked the bag inside, latching it closed.

The right decision was obvious. He had screwed up every single time he tried to do right by Sarah. By Wren. By pretty much everyone. The blood in that bag only belonged to one person, and that’s where he’d take it. He started the car and fished out his phone. He was surprised when she answered on the second ring.

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