“I should ask you the same thing. Where’s my sister?” The fact that I was talking to him and not Jo gave me reason to pause.
“Abbey had a terrible nightmare. Jo and Agnes are with her now.”
“Another one about Roman kidnapping her?” I asked, grinding my molars, although her recent vision of my wife being dead had hit me between the eyeballs. What scared the fuck out of me was that Layla had a dream with the same outcome.
“I’m not sure yet. Tell me what happened,” Webb ordered.
“We found Dane. Greta is bringing him in now. He can’t shift. We need Jo’s doctor-in-training skills.”
“Can we have one fucking day without the shit hitting the fan?” His annoyance and ire rang through the line loud and clear as he hung up.
I was beginning to believe that my immortal life would never include a day to bask in the sunshine. Right now, we had to help Dane. We owed him. He’d opened his home to us, fought with us, and could’ve died rescuing Orion and Luna.
Thirty minutes later, Jo was pressing her stethoscope to the wolf’s chest. Dane was on a lab bench, his breathing shallow. He was dirty, there were spots of blood on his white coat, and his red eyes seemed dilated.
Across from my sister was Peter Landon, who was opening a silver hard-shell suitcase. The wiry older man with salt-and-pepper hair adjusted his glasses higher up on his nose. I hadn’t seen the scientist since he removed the chip from my skull, and I would never forget that day I’d almost become permanently blind.
As I stood between Greta, the petite brunette she-wolf, and Tripp, who had his arms crossed over his chest, I took a trip down memory lane.
I sat in one of those vitrectomy chairs—or in layman’s terms, a kneeling chair.
Peter pulled on a pair of nitrile exam gloves. “I’m going to inject a small amount of sodium hydroxide into the base of your skull in the area just below where the chip is located. The chemical will dissolve the glass surrounding the chip, and in turn, the contents inside will break apart and flush into your bloodstream.”
Doc pinched the bridge of his nose. “You might feel like you’re burning from the inside out, but it won’t be as bad as if you had cobalt in you. The good news is—sodium hydroxide won’t kill you. The bad news is—it could damage some brain cells.”
Jo had her mouth slightly ajar, standing in my line of sight next to Peter. I didn’t need to feel her anxiety. Her expression said it all.
“Before we start,” Doc continued, “we’re going to hook up an IV containing your blood to help flush your system faster, and, at the same time, it should heal any damage to your internals, including your brain cells.”
“Hooyah!” I bit out the navy’s battle cry in a sarcastic way rather than what it was originally intended for—to build morale. “Let’s do this.”
Once the IV of blood was streaming through my veins, Peter primed the needle that had to be six inches in length. PTSD slapped me across the face, reminding me horrifically of the needles my uncle Patrick had used on me—and the one Carly had used more recently.
My fangs throbbed for release as anticipation scraped my nerves. I might live off the fear of my enemy but not off my own. Losing my loved ones was my number one fear. Coming in second was flying. Rounding out third was needles.
“One last thing,” Peter said. “Your occipital lobe that controls your vision resides in the back of your brain. It’s possible your vision could be compromised. Since you’re a vampire, it might only do temporary damage, like what happened to your hearing, which returned.”
“Wait one fucking second. You chose now to tell me this?” I eyed Doc. “That’s why you’re sweating?”
Doc donned a pair of exam gloves. “Sam, the chip is damaged, which means it can’t engage anymore. We could leave it in.”
Jo shook her head. “If I were you, I would remove it. You’ll have peace of mind, knowing that the chip won’t shift again.”
I was the one sweating now. “From the start, I’ve wanted to take it out regardless of whether it’s working or not. I should heal anyway, right?”
Doc bobbed his head. “You should, but there is always that chance you don’t. I know I sound unsure. That’s because I haven’t dealt with the vampire brain.”
“Just do it,” I said.
Once the procedure was finished, I sat up, opened my eyes, and my heart came to a screeching halt. “I can’t see.”
Thanks to Dr. Vieira’s quick thinking that day, he’d injected a dose of shifter blood mixed with Abbey’s blood that he’d discovered healed like a charm. That was the only reason I wasn’t blind.
Greta was snacking on her thumbnail and fixated on the metal headgear in Peter’s hands.
I leaned into her. “It looks alien, doesn’t it?” If I never had to see that piece of crap Peter was holding again, it would be a miracle. “Peter, after tonight, I vote for you to melt that thing.”
Tripp’s phone sounded with a text. “It’s Webb. I’ll be right back.”
