Page 180 of Vampires of Eden
CHAPTER 43
Alexander
Leoni texts me an address in Hollywick that I don’t recognize and I drive, mindless and like a bat out of hell to get there. Usually, the drive takes a little more than two hours. Today, it takes ninety minutes, which feels like an eternity. The whole time my mind raced and my chest ached. It felt as if I was going to vomit blood everywhere again.
The navigation guides me into the village center, which is surprisingly crowded as I park outside a two-story, ivy-covered brick cottage. I hop out of my car and the vampires loitering around outside the structure gasp and murmur as I stalk toward the entrance. Ignoring them, I pull the door open and step inside.
The front room is dimly lit with yellow lamp light and the ceiling is low. The air is warm and smells like rubbing alcohol and medicinal herbs. My mind is a blur as I glance around, barely taking in my surroundings. I can feel Danny’s presence, but the pulse of his energy is too weak. It’s all wrong and makes my breathing tight and strained.
Instinctively, I walk toward a darkened hallway to my left near the back of the room. As I approach, Leoni rushes out from around the corner.
“Alexander,” she says, her eyes blinking with relief. “This way, he’s back here.”
“Is he conscious yet?” I ask, following her into the narrow corridor. The floor is carpeted and muffles our steps. It’s too quiet. Too still and tense.
She shakes her head. “Not yet. Amber said his breathing is steady but shallow.”
I called Leoni in the car and on my way here after she spoke to Raphael. When she came home a few hours ago, the front window to the sitting room was smashed and a fire was blazing inside. She called the local emergency line, then circled the house to try to get inside using the back door. She found Danny unconscious in the grass below the kitchen window. She thinks he tried to extinguish the fire himself before giving up and climbing out.
We step up to a door and Leoni turns the knob, then gently pushes it open. The room is cast in dim lamp-light, but there’s a single stained-glass window backed by the overcast, late-afternoon sun. It throws a strange rainbow of color over Daniel as he lies completely still atop the full-sized bed. An oxygen mask is strapped to his face and his clothes are a smoky, dirty mess.
I step closer and his arms are bandaged from wrist to elbow. Dark smudges stain his cheeks and forehead and his hair is a disheveled mess against the pillow.
Slowly, I sink to my knees at his side and touch his hand. There’s no response.
How… how did this happen?
“Prince Alexander?”
My brain and heart feel as if they’re filled with heavy fog. Or like I’m walking through mud and nothing makes sense anymore. Time has stopped moving. I can’t breathe.
“Your highness?”
I lift my gaze, registering a second-gen woman standing at the end of the bed. Her skin is light bronze and her hair is braided and twisted back away from her face.
“Alexander, this is Amber,” Leoni says, then takes a breathand rubs her forehead as she stares down at Danny. “She runs this clinic for the local villagers. Amber, this is Alexander.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness. His pulse is steady and stable. I think he just needs a little time.”
My mouth is dry as I open it to speak, like there’s raw cotton stuffed in my throat. “What can I do?”
She steps closer. “All we can do is wait for him to heal internally. I think he inhaled too much smoke. He had an ugly coughing fit just before you got here, but he didn’t properly wake up. I… I don’t mean to pry, but has he fed from you, recently?”
“Yes,” I respond mechanically, looking back at his too pale face smudged with smoke and grime. “Yesterday evening.”
“That’s excellent,” Amber says. “Given his physical state, having recently had your blood should give him a boost in recovering.”
Reaching, I wrap my fingers around his palm at his side. I expect him to squeeze my hand in return like he always does, but there’s nothing. No movement. Still holding his hand, my stomach drops and I bend forward to rest my head against the bed.
“Amber, can we have a minute alone?”
“Sure. Of course.”
I feel myself sinking into a dark swirl of remorse and anger when suddenly there’s a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Puercoespín?”
“Leoni, what the hell happened?”
