Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)(31)

“Fine,” she snapped. “Which doctor do you want present?”

The two doctors he trusted the most were Dr. Shaw and Dr. Medina. Both were privy to sensitive information. Dr. Shaw was the sentinels’ surgeon, and she had also consulted with him over his head injury, so she would keep any findings confidential.

But Dr. Medina was Pia’s doctor, and there was no better time or opportunity to send for her than this. She could be close at hand, if they needed to prolong Pia’s next injection. This could work to their advantage.

He glanced over to the verandah, where Pia and Bailey talked as they looked over the maps. He told Tatiana, “Collect Dr. Medina, along with my sentinel Grym. Grym can watch over Medina and your doctors, to make sure the lab stays secure. He’ll also see that the samples are destroyed when they should be. I’ll call them now to make sure they’re ready.”

Tatiana gestured an abrupt assent and strode back to her house, while Dragos quickly called Dr. Medina and Grym to tell them to prepare for an unexpected trip and assignment. The sentinel picked up on the second ring.

He told Grym, “A Djinn will be arriving momentarily to pick you and Dr. Medina up and bring you to the Light Fae demesne. When you get here, be sure to talk to Pia and Eva to get fully briefed on what’s happening.”

“What about you?” Grym asked.

“I’m not available for private conversations at the moment.”

“Okay. You got it.”

He hung up and punched Dr. Medina’s number.

“How’s Pia doing?” the doctor asked, when he spoke to her.

He glanced at the nearby Light Fae on the verandah. “I’m not able to talk freely right now. You’ll find out when you get here.”

“Okay.” The doctor sounded uneasy. “Just tell me this much. Do I need to bring an extra dose of the protocol?”

“No,” he said, and hung up.

Curious about which Djinn Tatiana would call to bargain with, he watched as a tornado of Power whirled into the yard and coalesced into a tall, feminine form. The Djinn had vaguely familiar, regal features, white skin, bloodred hair that fell past her shoulders, and the signature starlike Djinn eyes.

After the Light Fae Queen and the Djinn had a brief, private conversation in silence, the woman whirled away to return a few moments later with Grym and Dr. Medina. Both of them looked around as they got their bearings and stared at Dragos, chained to the Hummers. They converged upon Pia. Eva joined them, and the four Wyr engaged in an intense, silent conversation, glancing in Dragos’s direction often.

He composed himself to patience by closing his eyes and pretending to lie in wait in the warm sunshine during a hunt. He could wait for hours or even days for the right moment to strike at a particular prey, and had done so before, many times.

He was perfectly aware when Grym and Medina approached, but even so, Medina cleared her throat when they drew near. As he opened his eyes again, they both sucked in a breath. Medina looked frightened, while Grym looked … well, grim.

“We need to collect vials of your blood,” Medina told him. She carried two bags, a medical bag and another white one with a biohazard sign on the side, which she set on the ground in front of her. “None of the Light Fae want to come close enough to do it.”

“Bastards,” he said without heat. His bandaged arm itched, and he rubbed at it.

Wait. His attention snapped to high alert.

His bandaged arm itched. It had gone numb before.

He wore off the bandage to stare at the wound. The dark streaks were still present, and so was the bite mark itself, but … he compared the dark streaks to the size of the bandage.

The streaks were smaller. They were definitely smaller.

He raised his voice. “Pia!”

From the verandah, her head snapped up and she bounded toward him, moving across the lawn like a bright shooting star, with Eva in fast pursuit.

Pia skidded to a halt beside the others, followed a scant moment later by Eva. Pia’s gaze had gone wide with dread. “What happened?”

“My arm itched,” he told her. “Look—the wound is still there, but the streaks have shrunk.”

Fierce joy flashed across her face, and eagerly she reached out to hug him.

Eva grabbed Pia’s arm, and he jerked back. He said, “No, not yet. The punctures haven’t closed over. It’s still an open wound.”

“Sorry,” Pia muttered, looking crestfallen. “I forgot again.”

“Hold still,” Dr. Medina told him, as she opened up the medical bag at her feet, snapped on a pair of surgical gloves and prepared a needle along with several empty vials. She drew six vials of blood, stacking them carefully in the biohazard bag. “Okay, we’re done.”

“Don’t let those vials out of your sight,” he told Medina and Grym. They both nodded and hurried back toward the waiting Light Fae.

As he started to smooth the bandage back into place, Pia told him, “Keep that arm out. We’re not quite done. Another hour’s gone by, or near enough to it that it doesn’t matter.”

He watched her dig out the pocketknife, glance around and nick her finger quickly. He muttered, “You’re getting a little too blasé about doing that while we’re under such high scrutiny.”

“Not blasé,” she whispered. “I’ve made my choice about the risk, and now it’s time to live with it.”