Damn . . . she was beautiful.
“You think,” Jane said softly.
Okay, now would be a great time for his mouth to stop working independently.
He cleared his throat. “Can we go back about a half hour?”
“No problem.”
The image reversed, the little counter in the lower right-hand corner draining down in milliseconds.
As he saw himself checking her over in that towel, it was too frickin’ obvious that they were attracted to each other. Oh, God . . . that fucking hard-on so gave him another reason not to look at Jane.
“Wait . . .” He sat forward. “Slow down. Here it is.”
He watched himself back into the bath in a rush. . . .
“Holy . . . crap,” Jane breathed.
And there it was: Payne up on her knees at the bottom of the bed, her body long and lean and balanced perfectly as her eyes focused on the bathroom door.
“Is she glowing?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, “she is.”
“Hold on. . . .” Jane hit forward, running the images in proper order. “You’re testing her sensations here?”
“Nothing. She felt nothing. And yet—go back again . . . thanks.” He pointed at Payne’s legs. “Here, though, she clearly has muscle control.”
“This isn’t logical.” Jane played and replayed the file. “But she did it . . . oh, my God . . . she does it. It’s a miracle.”
Sure the fuck looked like one. Except . . . “What’s the impetus,” he muttered.
“Maybe it’s you.”
“No way. My operation clearly didn’t do the ticket or she would have been kneeling before tonight. Your own exams showed she remained paralyzed.”
“I’m not talking about your scalpel.”
Jane reversed the file back to the moment Payne rose up, and froze the frame. “It’s you.”
Manny stared at the image, and tried to see something other than the obvious: Sure as hell, it seemed that as Payne had looked at him, the glow in her had gotten brighter and she was able to move.
Jane forwarded the file frame by frame. As soon as he came out of the bathroom and she was lying back, the glow was gone . . . and she had no feeling.
“This makes no sense,” he muttered.
“Actually, I think it does. It’s her mother.”
“Who?”
“God where to start with that.” Jane indicated her own body. “I’m what I am because of the Scribe Virgin.”
“Who?” Manny shook his head. “I don’t understand any of this.”
Jane smiled a little bit. “You don’t have to. It’s happening. You just need to stay with Payne and . . . see how she changes.”
Manny resumed staring at the monitor. Well, shit, it seemed like that Goateed Hater had made the right call. Somehow, the motherfucker had known this was what would happen. Or maybe the guy had merely hoped. Either way, it looked like Manny was a kind of medicine for that extraordinary creature lying on that bed.
So damn right he was going to hang in.
But he wasn’t fooling himself. This wasn’t going to be about love or even sex; it was about getting her up and moving so she could live her life again—no matter what it took. And he knew he wasn’t going to be allowed to stay with her at the end of it. They were going to discard him like an empty orange bottle from the pharmacy—and yeah, sure, she might get attached to him, but she was a virgin who didn’t know any better.
And she had a brother who was going to force her to make the right choices.
As for him? He wasn’t going to remember any of this, was he.
Gradually, he became aware of Jane’s stare on his profile. “What,” he said without taking his eyes off the screen.
“I’ve never seen you like this about a female.”
“I’ve never met anyone like her before.” He put up his palm to stop any conversating. “And you can save the don’t-go-there. I know what’s coming at the end of this.”
Hell, maybe those bastards were going to kill him and roll him into the river. Make it look like an accident.
“I wasn’t going to say that, actually.” Jane shifted in her seat. “And believe me . . . I know how you feel.”
He glanced over at her. “Yeah?”
“It’s how I was when I first met Vishous.” Her eyes watered, but she cleared her throat. “Back to you and Payne—”
“What’s going on, Jane. Talk to me.”
“Nothing’s going—”
“Bullshit—and right back at you. I’ve never seen you like this before. You look ruined.”
She drew in a great breath. “Marital problems. Plain and not so simple.”
Clearly, she didn’t want to go into it. “Okay. Well, I’m here for you . . . for as long as I’m allowed to be.”
He rubbed his face. It was a total waste of time to worry about how long this was going to last, how much time he had. But he couldn’t help it. Losing Payne was going to kill him even though he barely knew her.
Wait a minute. Jane had been human. And she was here. Maybe there was—
What. The. Fuck.
“Jane . . . ?” he said weakly as he looked at his old friend. “What . . .”
Words deserted him at that point. She was sitting in the same chair, in the same position, wearing the same clothes . . . except he could see the wall behind her . . . and the steel cabinets . . . and the door across the way. And not “see” as in on the far side of her shoulders. He was looking through her.
“Oh. Sorry.”
Right before his eyes, she went from translucent to . . . back to normal.
Manny jumped out of his chair and pinwheeled back until the examination table bit into his ass and stopped him.
“You need to talk to me,” he said hoarsely. “Jesus . . . Christ . . .”
As he grabbed for the cross that hung around his neck, Jane’s head dropped and one of her hands tucked some of her short hair behind her ear. “Oh, Manny . . . there’s a lot you don’t know.”
“So . . . tell me.” When she didn’t reply, the screaming in his head got way too loud. “You’d better fucking tell me, because I’m really done with feeling like a lunatic.”
There was a long silence. “I died, Manny, but not in that car wreck. That was staged.”
Manny’s lungs got tight. “How.”
“A gunshot. I was shot. I . . . died in Vishous’s arms.”
Okay, he so could not breathe over here. “Who did it?”
“His enemies.”
Manny rubbed his crucifix, and the Catholic in him suddenly believed in the saints as so much more than examples of good behavior.
“I’m not who you once knew, Manny. On so many levels.” There was such sadness in her voice. “I’m not even actually alive. That was why I didn’t come back to see you. It wasn’t about the vampire/human thing . . . it’s because I am not really here anymore.”
Manny blinked. Like a cow. A number of times.
Well . . . the good news in all this, he supposed, was that finding out his former trauma surgeon was a ghost? Barely a blip on his radar. His mind had been blown too many times to count, and like a joint that had been dislocated, it had total and complete freedom of movement.
Of course, its functionality was fucked.
But who was counting.
TWENTY-SIX
Alone in downtown Caldwell, Vishous stalked the night by himself, traversing the underbelly stretch beneath the city’s bridges. He’d started out at his penthouse, but that hadn’t lasted more than ten minutes, and what an irony that all those glass windows had felt so confining. After launching himself into the air from the terrace, he’d coalesced down by the river. The other Brothers would be out in the alleys looking for lessers and finding them, but he didn’t want to be around the peanut gallery. He wanted to fight. Solo.
At least, that was what he told himself.
It dawned on him, however, after about an hour of aimless wandering, that he wasn’t really looking for some kind of hand-to-hand showdown. He wasn’t actually looking for anything.