Chapter 40

Elaina pulled up to their building and double-parked at the entrance. She got out and raced around the Mustang to help him get out. He was moving arthritically as she pulled him to his feet then handed him his stuff.

"I'm stowing my car in the garage. I'll be back in half an hour," she told him with concern written on her face. "You think you can make it?"

"Yeah, I think I can make it," he grumbled.

She climbed back into the Mustang and pulled away quickly, hurrying so she could get back that much sooner.

He dragged himself up the three flights of stairs, feeling as if his shoes were made of lead, stopping to rest at each landing. He fumbled his keys twice before he finally got the door opened.

Once inside, he gave the door a desultory nudge with his foot, not even checking to see if it closed; the sullen clack of the deadbolt sounded anyway. He dropped his gym bag and briefcase on the floor and shrugged off his cloak, dropping it to the floor too. He staggered to the back of the couch and let himself fall over it, landing on his back on the cushions. He laid his arm over his eyes; something about the way his hand was tingling causing him to frown before he passed out.

It was the sensation of Elaina manipulating his hand that woke him. He could smell something tomatoey cooking and wondered if she'd made dinner. When he opened his eyes, he saw her frowning at his hand as she ran her fingers over the tendons. She turned her head to look at him and smiled at seeing him awake.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he croaked.

"Move your fingers for me, sweeting," she said, lifting his arm.

He waggled his fingers, all at once then one by one under her instructions. When she probed his wrist, it made him pull back in discomfort.

"Did that hurt?" she asked worriedly. "I'm sorry..."

"No, no, I didn't hurt, it just felt funny," he replied hoarsely.

"Can you sit up?" she asked, moving in close to help when he struggled.

"You're awfully pale," she said giving him a worried look. Once he was sitting, she took his hand again, turning it over and inspecting the skin.

"Sweetheart, you're scaring me," Rob said. "What's wrong?"

"In the gym ... after you hit that bag?" she said hesitantly. He nodded for her to continue.

"You took my hand ... well, you tried to. Your hand was broken, Rob. All the little bones from your wrist to your knuckles. I could feel them moving under your skin."

"But ... I didn't feel anything," he answered in disbelief, holding up his hand and turning it in front of his face.

"I could tell. And by the time I got you here, they weren't moving around anymore. Rob, I think that's why you're so tired. You used up all your reserves healing your hand."

"There're no bruises," he said, still looking for evidence of damage.

"Trust me, that hand was broken," she affirmed. "Anyone else would be wearing a banjo splint for the next three months."

"Wow," he said softly in wonder.

"Come on, I cooked a box of spaghetti and heated a jar of sauce. We gotta get you charged up again or you'll be good for nothing in the morning."

She helped him stand and half carried him to the kitchen. She took a pot of sauce off the stove and simply poured it over a large bowl of spaghetti waiting on the table. She handed him a fork and stood back. It took him nearly forty-five minutes, but he managed to finish the whole thing. He had his color back and was moving better.

"I feel like I could use about ten hours of sleep right now," he said with a yawn.

"Unless you call out sick from work, you only have time for about six," she said softly.

He frowned and looked at the clock on the stove.

"I slept for four hours?" he asked in amazement.

"I couldn't wake you when I got back," she said, her voice cracking. "It was like you were in a coma. Everything was slowed down; your breathing, your heart. Even your skin was cool." A single red tear tracked down her face. Rob scrambled to comfort her.

"I thought you might be dying, and I couldn't figure out why." Another tear tracked down her cheek.

"Elaina, honey, please. I'm okay, really." Rob had tears of his own for the distress he was causing her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

She sniffled and wiped her eyes, smearing blood all over her face. Without thinking, Rob kissed her cheeks, getting her blood all over his lips. He licked his lips unconsciously and got the same zing and tingle he got last time. He conceived a sudden suspicion as he began connecting the dots to the last time he'd tasted her blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said as he held her close and rocked her.

"Okay," she sniffled.

He guided her to the bathroom where he used a warm cloth to dab the blood off her face.

"I'm the one with a broken hand, but it's your blood all over the place," he joked. She gave him a watery smile.

As he removed the last tear from her face, he said, "Elaina, can I ask you something?"

She sniffed one more time, then nodded.

"How do you make a vampire?"

Her eyes snapped to his, his eyes meeting hers placidly.

"Why would you ask that?" she asked.

"Because I think that might be why I developed my 'turbo powers, '" he said, still remaining calm and dabbing one last smear from her cheek. "It has something to do with your blood, doesn't it?"

She lowered her eyes and nodded.

"What is it, Elaina?" he asked softly. "Please, tell me? Is it your blood?"

"In order to turn a human," she said reluctantly, "The vampire has to feed from the human ... to the point of death. When his body is as weak as she can get it without actually killing him, the vampire has to feed him her own blood. As much as she took, she has to give back. Then she waits.

"It takes three days for a human to turn. During that time, it's as if he really is dead. The coma is so deep, even the heartbeat is impossible to detect.

"When the three days pass, the human will either rise, or he will die."

"That's it?" he gently asked. She nodded again. "You mean you could go out on the street right now and pick someone at random, drag them into an alley and change them."

"Well, no," she said with a frown. "There has to be a connection. I'm not sure what it is; I've never turned a human, but I've seen it done. It was always someone favored by the vampire."

"Blood and saliva are closely related," Rob said thoughtfully. "Could it be that your bites have been preparing me? And a taste of your blood maybe ... activated something in me?"

A sudden comprehension dawned on her face. "Blood servants..." Elaina whispered.

"Blood servants?" Rob asked puzzled. "What's that?"

A flash of impatience went through her eyes before she waved it off.

"You may have figured out by now that vampires don't generally hang out together and share information. Some things you hear don't even make sense until years later when someone says something that puts it all together." Rob was stifling his own impatience by this point.

"Some of the older vampires would talk of 'blood servants' like they were something special ... and dangerous. We know about servants because of Stefan, but blood servants were different. Scarier. I never met one that I know of, and I haven't see any big vampire estates lately, not since I chose a territory. Maybe that's why there aren't any..."

She looked at Rob with regret on her face.

"Maybe there's one now," she croaked. "Oh, Rob, I'm so sorry."

"Why would you be sorry?" he asked placidly. "I'm not. I haven't seen a downside yet."

"Rob, listen to me. I may have tied you to me. Think about it. You're my blood servant," she said with distress.

Rob snorted at her. "Like I wasn't already your slave," he said. "Elaina, even if you could make this go away tomorrow, you're not getting rid of me. I plan on being with you for a long, long time. So what if you 'tied' me to you. If you have, it's a bond I'm willing to accept. Elaina, I love you."

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

"Really really," he answered her.

"Oh, Rob!" she cried, then she threw herself into his arms and held on for dear life.

"Look what you've done now," he joked. "We just got you all cleaned up, and now you've got us both all bloody." She snorted and laughed against his chest, adding other fluids to the mess.