Now I was standing in a large, long room that had its lights so dim it was almost dark, but when they raised the light levels, the unconscious vampires had squirmed, or even cried out, though the monitors hadn’t registered any more brain activity, as if whatever made them react to the brightness wasn’t them. Did the Wicked Bitch of Ireland dislike light? She could walk out into full sunlight, so why did the hospital’s indoor lighting bother her puppets?
Nathaniel squeezed my other hand; normally I wouldn’t have let him hold my only working hand in a room full of potentially hostile vampires, but he had bandages on both his wrists where he’d voluntarily helped feed some of the undead in this room. We’d already had our fight that had been all about my fear for his safety and nothing to do with logic, or the fact that I was hurt far worse than he had been. I wanted to feel the solid reality of his hand in mine more than I wanted to keep my hand free for weapons; besides, all the vamps in this room had calmed after they’d taken blood. They’d calmed enough that Fortune and Flannery had been able to reason with them. Some of them had been burned in the sunlight, but none as badly as the one that had left his bone in my arm, because Fortune had grabbed a heavy tablecloth and put out the fire on the first one that staggered out into the light near their sightseeing. She’d let that one feed on her own wrist, and it had come back to itself. Maybe it wasn’t the exact person it had been before someone made it into a vampire, but it was still a reasoning, thinking person once it fed. Most of the vampires that they’d either saved from the sun or found before they staggered out into it had been reasonable after they took blood, but not all of them. Griffin was in surgery now because one of the vampires had damn near torn through his wrist. The vampire had taken Griffin’s blood and still tried to kill him, and when the others had gotten him to safety the vampire had attacked them, too. It just wanted to hurt people like the one at the police station had. They had had to kill three vampires but had managed to save dozens.
Some of them were lying in the beds now with IVs sending fluids to their burned, or just undead, flesh. Others in the room had called ambulances when they “woke” to themselves and found that they’d tried to rip out a friend’s or family member’s throat. Others had turned themselves in to the police after waking up covered in blood, with no memory of what was happening. If other of the new Irish undead had hidden after their first murder of the day, then we’d find them later by the bodies they left behind. They’d given drugs to the vampires to put them out of their pain, and some just a sedative in case the craving for blood returned. Most of them had volunteered for anything that would keep others safe.
Nathaniel’s bandaged wrists had been the hospital’s insistence. He hadn’t thought either vampire bite needed the attention. To me later he’d whispered, “I get more hurt at home from sex with Asher than this.” Wisely, he hadn’t tried explaining that to the doctors.
Devereux and Damian stood behind us. Fortune and Jake were off with Nolan’s people to try to answer more questions about vampires and how to take care of them. Edward and Nolan himself were off trying to get their/our group more powers of authority. There was some talk that killing the two vampires we had was going to get us kicked out of Ireland, but there were too many dead people and too many vampires waiting for nightfall for most of those in power to want to lose their experts on the undead. They’d keep us around until the crisis was over, but after that I wasn’t sure. I’d hoped to sightsee around Ireland for a few days when it was all done, but I was beginning to wonder if they were just going to escort us to the airplane and tell us, Don’t ever come back. Yeah, they were scared and they had a right to be scared, but fear makes people look for someone to blame. I was a necromancer and sleeping with the monsters; it made me an easy target for hatemongers.
The room was very quiet with just the rush and whir of the machinery and monitors to break the silence. That, combined with the dimness, made it all unreal, or like a scene from a bad dream. They’d isolated all the vampires in their own area; even the burn victims weren’t being taken to the burn unit. The doctors had cut away the tissue that had to be excised, but they would heal even less than a human patient would. Fire was one of the few things that the supernatural could not heal from. I knew that burns from holy water scarred over eventually, but I didn’t even know if burns from actual fire would do that much. Would the open skin, so raw and painful, be where they were trapped for all eternity? God, I hoped not.
“There are other rooms full of vampires; how did just your group give enough blood for all of them?” I asked. It was something I hadn’t thought to ask before. My stomach was settling down and the pain in my arm was just a dull ache, so I was thinking better.
“People started coming up to us and offering themselves for feedings,” Dev said.
I looked back at him. “You’re joking.”
“He’s not joking,” Nathaniel said. “At first we thought the Irish were some of the bravest people on the planet, and some ordinary citizens did help us put out the flames, and even donated a wrist or two.”
“We stopped letting civilians help once Griffin got hurt,” Dev said.
“You said at first. What did you mean?”
“I guess technically they’re Irish, too, like the original Irish, but they were Flannery’s friends.”
“You mean Fey?”
He nodded and squeezed my hand a little tighter. “What’s wrong?”