Page 77 of The Hive Queen

His tired blue eyes shift toward us as we near. “I told Sharpe not to bother you.”

“It’s no bother, pretty boy.” Marc pulls the coffee thermos from inside his jacket and sets it on the floor of the van. “What happened?”

Flint hangs his head. “I let Amalia escape, and then we were attacked by drones or something. I couldn’t get a handle on their energies.”

He rubs his eyes. “Gods, I just keep messing things up. If Sharpe hadn’t been here... I don’t know where I’d be right now. Probably somewhere missing a pelvis.”

Anny whines and shoves her head under his elbow.

Flint drops his hand to the soft spot between her ears. “Yeah, you helped, too. Sorry.”

Fear quickens my pulse. “What were you doing here, anyway?”

“Sharpe and I were driving around, searching for Amalia.” He points toward the building we passed. “She was holed up on the roof with some kind of lure set up, but our arrival messed up her plan.”

Marc leans against the side of the van. “Did she have the Shard?”

“I assume so, but I didn’t see it.” Flint looks away. “I let her escape before we could find out, and now she knows we’re looking for her.”

“You weren’t the only one who didn’t catch her,” Sharpe says from behind me, and his hand grips my shoulder. “Let me check the back of your neck, again, Pen.”

“Why?” I hold still while he tugs down the back of my jacket collar. “What’s going on?”

“The drones who attacked us both had bee stings like yours.” His fingers trace over the smooth skin on my nape, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “It hasn’t come back.”

“Of course not.” Marc crosses his arms over his chest. “We burned it out of her.”

“The healing power of sex,” Flint mutters. “And you almost burned our home down, too.”

Marc’s eyes narrow on him, and I quickly cut in before they start fighting again. “It was more resistant to healing than most wounds, now that I think about it. It took a lot of fire to undo whatever was done.”

“So lancing it with a hot needle probably won’t have the same effect.” Sharpe releases me and steps back, giving me room to shift to the side so he can join our huddle. “Could dry ice work?”

Flint shakes his head. “Not that close to the spinal cord.”

Sharpe curses and glances down the street toward the crime scene. “We have to figure something out. I just heard from the hospital that there has been a rash of people reporting to the emergency room with bee stings that aren’t responding to regular medication. And that’s only those who have loved ones who forced the victims to come in.”

Marc raises his hands. “Can we rewind? What are you talking about?”

“The things that attacked us were both stung on the back of the neck. I’m guessing at least a week ago, maybe longer.” Flint reaches for Anny, as if needing her for comfort. “The venom from the sting suppresses the victim’s natural urge to seek medical attention. And once it’s left to germinate long enough, it transforms their bodies, poisoning their energy and converting it to something not of this world.”

“From that point, they become mindless drones.” Sharpe rubs the back of his neck and shudders. “They weren’t interested in me, but they very much wanted to kidnap Flint.”

He raises his hand. “Witchblood.”

“They used some kind of neuro-disruptor to incapacitate us both.” Sharpe’s hand drops to his belt, where he would usually carry his weapon. “It worked even on me. They almost got away with Flint.”

“Rupturing the sack at the base of their necks”—Flint’s lip curls with disgust—“kills them.”

“So, what you’re saying is that we could have a bunch of these drones out kidnapping men with witchblood?” At Sharpe’s nod, Marc’s gaze lifts toward the rooftop. “But Amalia was able to draw the drones here? How?”

“With a crap load of honey.” Flint doesn’t look at him when he answers. “She just spread it out on the ground, and they came shuffling along.”

“Nothing magical about it?” I frown. “Just honey?”

“As far as we can tell, it’s just honey.” Sharpe motions toward the building. “I’d like a second opinion, though.”

“Sure.” I study the top of Flint’s bent head with concern. It’s like all the light has just gone out of him. “Will you be okay down here alone, Flint?”

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