feel. She started to call Harlan, but before she could dial, she heard,
“I suppose you think you’re clever.”
Miranda turned toward the voice. “How long did you know I was there?”
Deven, leaning against the outside wall of the hospital’s front driveway, looked like absolute hell; wherever he was getting his power from, it was using him pretty hard. He looked a lot like Nico did these days. “The whole time.”
She deliberately asked a stupid question just to see how he’d react. “How did you know?”
The exasperated look he gave her was, for a second, one hundred percent Deven. Rather than answer, he asked, “Why are you here?”
“I needed to know what you were doing. I thought you were off doing drugs, or killing people, not...”
She wasn’t sure he was capable of genuine laughter anymore, but the noise he made was close. “You want to know why I of all people would do something as life-affirming as healing terminal babies.”
“I am curious, yes.”
“The drugs aren’t working anymore,” he said. “I tried everything…I only wanted a moment of peace. Death is denied me…I barely sleep…in the end only one thing makes it all go still.”
She nodded slowly, wishing she could at least lay a hand on his arm, some gesture, anything, to let him know she understood. But even if he would allow it, to him it would be meaningless. “Healing,” she concluded. “When you heal, you’re at peace. I saw it that night with Kat.”
He looked down at his hands. They were so pale, almost insubstantial, a ghost’s hands. It was hard to imagine them wielding a sword, let alone belonging to the fiercest warrior vampire kind had ever seen. They shook the way hers had always shaken before she learned to master her gift.
“I can’t stop…if I don’t use it, it burns. It was like that sometimes when I was a child—mark myself a target for the Inquisition or end up screaming in pain. They sent me off to the monastery either to save or condemn me, I’ve never decided which. So you see,” he said quietly, “It’s the same as ever. I don’t care about sick babies or ten-year-olds with tumors. It’s purely selfish. I’m using them.”
Miranda had to smile a little, because whatever private hell he was living in, she didn’t believe for a second that he didn’t care. She had seen his face when the baby grabbed his hand. “Somehow I don’t think those kids’ parents would care what your motivation was.”
He pushed himself off the wall and started walking; she fell in step beside him. “Leave me alone,” he said. The words were petulant but their tone was not—it was almost a plea. “Whatever it is you want from me, you won’t get it.”
“I just want to talk to you,” she insisted.
He stopped, looked at her. “Why?”
“Because…you were there for me when David died. You kept me going. I want to be here for you. That’s what friends do, and…I miss you. There’s so much I…” After all those months, finally getting to talk to him even like this made her eyes ache with tears. “You were the one person I could tell anything—you never judged, never gave me anything but love. You don’t know how hard it’s been without you.”
For a second, she thought she might have him, but his face hardened. “Talk to your Prime,” he said, and started walking again.
“Won’t you at least think of Nico?” she called after him. “He needs you even more than I do.”
He didn’t stop. She followed.
“Don’t you care what you’re doing to him?” she wanted to know. “If you could see him—”
“He doesn’t need me,” Deven snapped. “He’s got the rest of you to keep him warm.”
“But you’re his Prime—”
“That’s his problem, not mine.”
“Do you really think this is what—”
He rounded on her, eyes gone pure silver with anger. “If you say a word about what Jonathan would have wanted I swear to God I’ll break your neck.”
She knew better than to
“I suppose you think you’re clever.”
Miranda turned toward the voice. “How long did you know I was there?”
Deven, leaning against the outside wall of the hospital’s front driveway, looked like absolute hell; wherever he was getting his power from, it was using him pretty hard. He looked a lot like Nico did these days. “The whole time.”
She deliberately asked a stupid question just to see how he’d react. “How did you know?”
The exasperated look he gave her was, for a second, one hundred percent Deven. Rather than answer, he asked, “Why are you here?”
“I needed to know what you were doing. I thought you were off doing drugs, or killing people, not...”
She wasn’t sure he was capable of genuine laughter anymore, but the noise he made was close. “You want to know why I of all people would do something as life-affirming as healing terminal babies.”
“I am curious, yes.”
“The drugs aren’t working anymore,” he said. “I tried everything…I only wanted a moment of peace. Death is denied me…I barely sleep…in the end only one thing makes it all go still.”
She nodded slowly, wishing she could at least lay a hand on his arm, some gesture, anything, to let him know she understood. But even if he would allow it, to him it would be meaningless. “Healing,” she concluded. “When you heal, you’re at peace. I saw it that night with Kat.”
He looked down at his hands. They were so pale, almost insubstantial, a ghost’s hands. It was hard to imagine them wielding a sword, let alone belonging to the fiercest warrior vampire kind had ever seen. They shook the way hers had always shaken before she learned to master her gift.
“I can’t stop…if I don’t use it, it burns. It was like that sometimes when I was a child—mark myself a target for the Inquisition or end up screaming in pain. They sent me off to the monastery either to save or condemn me, I’ve never decided which. So you see,” he said quietly, “It’s the same as ever. I don’t care about sick babies or ten-year-olds with tumors. It’s purely selfish. I’m using them.”
Miranda had to smile a little, because whatever private hell he was living in, she didn’t believe for a second that he didn’t care. She had seen his face when the baby grabbed his hand. “Somehow I don’t think those kids’ parents would care what your motivation was.”
He pushed himself off the wall and started walking; she fell in step beside him. “Leave me alone,” he said. The words were petulant but their tone was not—it was almost a plea. “Whatever it is you want from me, you won’t get it.”
“I just want to talk to you,” she insisted.
He stopped, looked at her. “Why?”
“Because…you were there for me when David died. You kept me going. I want to be here for you. That’s what friends do, and…I miss you. There’s so much I…” After all those months, finally getting to talk to him even like this made her eyes ache with tears. “You were the one person I could tell anything—you never judged, never gave me anything but love. You don’t know how hard it’s been without you.”
For a second, she thought she might have him, but his face hardened. “Talk to your Prime,” he said, and started walking again.
“Won’t you at least think of Nico?” she called after him. “He needs you even more than I do.”
He didn’t stop. She followed.
“Don’t you care what you’re doing to him?” she wanted to know. “If you could see him—”
“He doesn’t need me,” Deven snapped. “He’s got the rest of you to keep him warm.”
“But you’re his Prime—”
“That’s his problem, not mine.”
“Do you really think this is what—”
He rounded on her, eyes gone pure silver with anger. “If you say a word about what Jonathan would have wanted I swear to God I’ll break your neck.”
She knew better than to
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