Page 2 of Sinner's Salvation

She was a survivor of a disease that had killed millions eight hundred years ago. Not many survived, and an even smaller number had been changed. Only a handful during the first sweep of the sickness. Over time, as the illness spread across the world, a few more joined the ranks.

The physical changes her immune system worked on her body as a response to the infection were irreversible, and not all of them were good.

Healing most wounds occurred at miraculous speeds. She was stronger than a normal human, with heightened senses.

She didn’t get sick.

She didn’t age.

She couldn’t have children. None of them could.

She couldn’t eat food and had to obtain nutrition directly from other normal humans by drinking their blood.

There was only one thing that could have caused her memory loss and unconsciousness. A catastrophic head injury. As close to death as she could get and still come back from it.

Any major head injury could result in some short-term recall problems, but in the last century getting shot was the most common reason. It had happened to her four times.

Once during the First World War – shot by German soldiers.

Once during the Second World War – also shot by German soldiers.

Once during the Korean War – blown up by North Korean soldiers.

Once during the Bosnian War – shot by the President of Serbia, Slobodan Miloševic’s forces.

And now, shot by an American law enforcement officer. Either he’d been instructed by someone to kill her, or he knew killing her wouldn’t be an easy task. Either reason led to nothing good. If she was under attack, so was her family.

Family waseverything.

Rage boiled outwards from the pit of her stomach, threatening to scorch everything she touched, be it objects, buildings, or people.

A noise, subtle and small, distracted her for a moment. It told her she wasn’t alone in wherever she was and it motivated her to regain control. Until she knew the scope of the attack, the reasons behind it, and who was responsible, killing every living thing between herself and freedom would not help her or her family.

So, she forced herself to maintain the illusion of unconsciousness.

She re-examined her memory of the Homeland Security agent, of his expressions and body language. He’d been stoic and unmoved by the events at the airport. He’d shown her some respect, bowing slightly when he introduced himself. Perhaps that should have told her something was wrong.

People didn’t do much of that today.

What had led the agent to shoot her? She focused on recalling the last few seconds before he must have done it. Had she threatened the shooter? Had someone ordered him to put a bullet in her brain? Was Brian Stettler complicit in the attack on her?

She hoped not. She liked him. He reminded her of Yvgeny and even of her son Bazyli. That, however, wouldn’t save him if she determined he had something to do with this attack.

Memories began to surface, fuzzy at first, then sharper until the details were etched into crystal.

The Homeland Security agent had been asking her about her business interests in New York.

She was in the middle of an answer when he brought his gun up and shot her. No hesitation, no change in body language, no hint of stress or fear.

Therehadbeen the beginning of a sound.

The memory slowly gained substance, color, and the sound became a shout. It hadn’t come from her or the shooter. It came from Brian. It wasn’t a word, just an unintelligible bellow at the same time as his hand connected with her shoulder.

He’d tried to push her out of the way of the bullet.

That didn’t necessarily make him an ally, but Yvgeny liked him, and he had the potential, however remote, to become a vampire. All of which put him in an odd protective category.

She resolved to do her best to get him out of this uncomfortable situation.

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