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I could give her a laundry list of findings. The cells are practically invincible. I can’t kill them with alcohol, Clorox, or peroxide. Acid disfigures them, but then they slowly retake their previous form. In my notes, I refer to them as ‘zombie cells.’ “I’m still testing. I’ll let you know once I have anything definitive.”

“Okay.” Gretchen rolls back and forth, wobbling uncertainly. “We were just curious.”

“Youwere curious.I’mskeptical,” Aang monotones from his desk. “Don’t try to reinvent the wheel, and stop destroying the samples. Okay, boss?” His tone makes it clear that ‘boss’ is a not-so-veiled stand-in for ‘bitch.’

“Sure.” I don’t mention the smaller vial of blood in my pocket. The one I’m taking to my room for my own experiments—ones they would never agree to.

“Glad we cleared that up.” Aang stretches and yawns. “Calling it a day. I’ll find the cure tomorrow.”

“You’ve said that for the past three months,” Wyatt says.

Aang shrugs. “Maybe tomorrow it’ll be true.”

* * *

I eyethe clock on the microwave. It’s almost midnight, and Valen hasn’t come yet. He usually shows up and broods for a while at sunset then leaves. We haven’t talked about what happened a week ago. I don’t want to. I’m pretending it never happened. He also hasn’t passed me any messages for the new soldier who’s taken Gage’s position downstairs. I suppose he isn’t one of Juno’s spies, or maybe the secret intel has all dried up.

“Come on.” I stand and pace to get rid of my nerves. He should’ve been here by now, and I have things I need to do. Things I don’t want him knowing about. Hell, if anyone found out about this, I might be up for a psych eval. “Shit.” I stop in the hallway and stare at the elevator. After five minutes of willing him to materialize, glare at me, and then get the hell out, I give up and return to the kitchen. Dragging out the supplies I stashed under the island, I organize everything after I disinfect the counter for the third time.

Then I wash my hands again and pull on some gloves.

“Really doing this,” I mutter to myself and peel open the sanitized scalpel’s packaging.

Once everything’s ready, I sit down and lay my arm along the cold stone. During my efforts to destroy the vampire cells, I finally saw a way to truly test the blood’s possibilities. I went back to the original experiment—when Valen used his own blood to heal Juno. That’s what we’re missing. The direct interaction between the two living bloodsin situ. In other words, I need a human volunteer. Optimally, I’d have two live subjects—most likely rats. But, as it stands, I have the not-so-live vampire sample and me.

“You can do this.” I’m not a particularly good hype man, but I do my best to swab down the back of my forearm despite the slight shake in my hands. I’ve taken as many precautions as possible. The rest of the vial has already been examined by the entire team downstairs. There’s no virus, not even antibodies in this one. It’s clean—as clean as unknown origin blood can be. But will it work?

I stare at my skin for a while, working up my nerve. How many times have I cut into flesh, hellbent on saving function or removing foreign bodies? Plenty. But I’ve never done anything remotely like this to myself. I have to suck it up. This is nothing. A tiny sacrifice. One I’m more than willing to make.

“Don’t be a twat,” I tough-talk myself, the scalpel hovering over my skin.

With a light stroke, I cut myself open, the sting minimal. A thin line of blood wells up, but I know it isn’t deep enough. “You can do this.” I slash along my arm again, deeper this time, no hesitation. The sting increases to an ache, the sharp blade making easy work of my dermal layers. I don’t cut to the bone, but I’ve done a decent amount of damage. My blood flows easily now, dripping onto the counter beneath.

Is it enough? I peer at the wound, more blood leaking from the two-inch gash. Maybe I cut too much. I don’t think so. I’m afraid to cut deeper, especially when I don’t know if the blood will work to heal it. I still have to be able to use my hands if this goes south.

I grab the vial and thumb the top off. This is it. This could be the answer to the plague. I inhale, then lean over, watching closely as I tip the vial sideways.

“Stop!” Valen’s voice booms in my ear, and the next moment I’m on my ass, the vial smashed against the wall on the far side of the room.

Dazed, I look up at him. “What the fuck?”

His gaze goes to my arm, his fangs lengthening.

“Shit!” I yelp and scoot back, my blood streaking across the tiles beneath me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His eyes have gone dark, and he moves with me, stepping toward me as I scurry away.

When my back hits the wall, he crouches in front of me.

I shrink away, primal fear setting off alarms at the base of my skull.

“Foolish, Doctor. So fucking foolish.” He stands abruptly and turns to the counter, gripping it with his hands as he leans over. “Fuck!” he roars.

I suck in a shaking breath, then jerk when he appears in front of me again.

“Talk me through this.” He drops to his knees and piles my medical supplies beside me.

“What?” I can’t concentrate on anything except his fangs. They’re terrifyingly long. It would be so easy for him to hurt me. To kill me.