Another long pause. Wynn wiped his face.
"Very well," he said reluctantly. "I agree to your terms."
Deidre rose and held out her hand. He hesitated once more but took it. Cold energy sealed the deal as official.
"Don't toy with what time I have left," he said. His features remained stoic, but she felt his concern. She'd judged right; he'd do whatever it took to survive.
Deidre twisted the top of the vial open and neared the girl.
"Wait," Wynn said. He repositioned Selyn's head then gripped her chin and squeezed her cheeks until her mouth opened. "Okay, now."
Deidre held her breath as she poured the mystery blood down the pale girl's throat. Blood speckled her lips. Deidre tipped the vial to tap the last of the liquid out and glanced up at Wynn.
"I wonder how long-"
Selyn's eyes fluttered open. She started coughing.
"Prop her up," Wynn snapped.
Deidre helped him lift the hacking girl into a sitting position. Wynn propped her upper body with pillows.
"Bring me that tray," he ordered Deidre, indicting the table to his right.
She scampered around the bed to obey, beyond thrilled that the blood worked. She took him the tray. Selyn appeared confused at the sight of them, her dark eyes unfocused. Her skin began to flush until it was pink enough to look human rather than the sleep of the dead.
"Omigod, Wynn," Deidre exclaimed. "We did it!"
"Hush."
She clamped her mouth closed, watching him check Selyn's vitals with the urgency and diligence of a man whose life depended upon the results.
"Can you hear me?" Wynn asked. He lifted Selyn's eyelids and shone a light to watch her pupils.
The girl's opened her mouth to answer. What came out was a pitiful squawk.
"Your vocal cords did not heal correctly," Wynn told her. "If you can move your head, nod for yes, and shake for no. Understand?"
She nodded.
"Are you in pain?"
A shake.
"I'm going to check your reflexes."
Selyn watched him with unease that bordered on alarm. Deidre put her hands over her mouth to keep from squealing and stepped back to give Wynn room. She met Selyn's confused gaze as the girl looked around the room.
"Some muscular atrophy. She's malnourished and dehydrated," Wynn said. "Deidre, the notebook on top of my desk."
Deidre whirled and went quickly. She read through the notes on the first page as she returned, unable to make out Wynn's medical jargon and short hand. She gave it to him, and glanced up, feeling Selyn's eyes.
The girl appeared stunned.
"You're going to need some serious physical therapy," Wynn said and took a few notes.