The Savior (Black Dagger Brotherhood 17)

That lock released as well for her, and as she pushed the heavy steel wide, she stopped.

Now, things were different, the orientation of clinical workstations and equipment not what she was used to. Didn’t matter, she told herself as she entered. Walking in between the stainless steel counters and shelving, she looked into every nook and cranny, the whirring sound of the nitrogen cooling units a familiar white noise in the background.

Everything was sparkling clean, from the microscopes to the stacks of supplies to the workstations. Nothing was out of order. Nothing was unusual.

She started to think she was nuts.

But come on, what had she expected? Secret panels sliding back to reveal a clandestine lab?

God, she might well accomplish nothing except career suicide tonight.

After she went through the space three times, she focused on the isolation unit. Behind panels of heavy clear glass, she could see the suit-up anteroom as well as a decontamination area, and beyond, an airlocked chamber with hazmat markings all over it.

The pass card got her into the suit room and she put on the protective gear quickly, pulling a baggy blue isolation suit over her backpack, covering her head and neck with a hood, and latching gloves on that went up nearly to her elbows. After making sure everything was attached correctly, she entered the work area with its negative airflow, its InterVac hood stations, and … nothing else.

The sound of her breathing in the echo chamber of the head protection only increased her anxiety and the clear plastic panel she had to look through made her feel like she were underwater.

To hook herself up to the oxygen feed, she pulled one of the tethers away from its ceiling mount and clicked the hose to an aperture on the back of the suit. Instantly, plastic-smelling air flooded the hood, and the artificial smell of it made her gasp for breath.

Telling herself to get over it, she went around the twenty-by-twenty room.

Sarah found the keypad on the far side of the workstations, and at first, she almost overlooked it, as the thing didn’t seem tied to any portal. But then she saw the ever-so-faint seam in the wall.

It was a door.

John was used to the seizures. He’d been getting them on and off ever since he’d entered the vampire world. His first one, that he had a concrete memory of at any rate, had happened when he’d seen Beth. There had been others, of course, but the one that had occurred when he’d first met his sister, the King’s shellan, had been truly significant.

This particular shake-and-shimmy, now that he was coming out of it, rang that highly important bell again—although he couldn’t understand why.

The electrical storm in his nervous system retreated much like any thunder or snow front, the intensity diminishing, calm returning, a damage assessment the first stop on the back-to-normal road. As John’s eyes opened, he didn’t immediately record what was around him. He was too busy performing an internal check-in, and when the all-good got sounded, his vision provided him with the details of the two people leaning over him.

Xhex was a relief. The male with the long red-and-black hair? Not so much—and not just because John wanted to go for the guy’s jugular as a matter of principle: The mere sight of Murhder’s unusual hair, his gleaming peach eyes, the cut of his jaw and the heft of his shoulders, was enough to make the buzz come back, all kinds of nerve endings firing.

But John was able to beat that shit back.

Even as Murhder’s voice, which sounded strangely familiar, said, “You remind me of an old friend.”

John sat up and studied everything about the male. Then he signed, Have we met before?

Murhder’s dark brows lifted at the ASL. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand—”

Xhex, who had been staring at John as if she’d seen a ghost, seemed to shake herself back into focus.

“My hellren is mute.” She repositioned herself on her knees with a wince. “And, ah, he wants to know if you’ve met before.”

Murhder narrowed his eyes. “Sure feels like it.”

Okay … weird. Even though it didn’t make sense, John felt his bonded male ease off. It was rare for him to trust anybody at first blush, but this former Brother, crazy though he was rumored to be, felt like someone he could put his faith in.

But maybe that was just the seizure talking. Maybe his self-preservation sectors weren’t back on line yet.

“I wanted John to be able to …” Xhex said roughly. “Shit.”

John was about to ask her what was wrong, except there was so much to choose from. And on that note, he focused on the former Brother—and reminded himself that instincts about other people were all well and good, but the reality of the situation was that he didn’t actually know the guy.

I don’t want to have to kill you, he signed.

Murhder looked at Xhex. “What did he say?”

“He doesn’t want to kill you,” she muttered.

John didn’t give a crap that he was only halfway back online. If the other male had an aggressive response to that translation, in any way whatsoever, he was going to go for the fucker’s throat and chainsaw the goddamn thing with his fangs—

The smile that slowly came over Murhder’s face was a bittersweet one. “I’m really glad you feel like that.” He looked at Xhex. “You deserve nothing less and I’m happy for you. It’s been a really long … hard road, and you’re more than due a good life.”

John turned to his mate. Her eyes were watering as she stared across at the other male. But there was no regret in her face; he had no sense that she wished she’d ended up with the former Brother.

They were more like two family members who’d survived a house fire that had destroyed everything.

John lifted his hands to sign. But then he just extended his dagger palm, offering it to the other male.

Murhder’s shake was firm. “Good. Thank you.”

Xhex cleared her throat. “Okay, enough of this. You’re not going to that site by yourself. The two of us are coming with you—and don’t waste our time trying to argue.”

John squeezed the other male’s hand, trying to communicate that he was in. Whoever that female had been, wherever her son was, if Xhex was going, John was coming with.

Murhder looked to the closed bedroom door.

“You know it’s safer this way,” Xhex said. “And you’re more likely to succeed.”

“Do the Brothers know?”

John shook his head, and mouthed, It’s just us. Promise.

Sarah stood in front of the keypad in the isolation unit, aware of seconds passing. She could try a bunch of numerical codes, but what were the chances of getting the correct one when she didn’t even know how long the sequence could be? And then she could get locked out if she got too many wrong in a row.

“Shit,” she breathed, looking around through the hazmat suit’s plastic visor.

But like they’d put a sticky note with the combination on the side of a cabinet?

If she turned around now and left, at least she had a chance of not getting into trouble. No alarms were going off, and maybe if security saw her on any of their monitors, they’d assume she had proper clearance—

Sarah looked down at the credentials. Then turned the laminated card over.

lock released as well for her, and as she pushed the heavy steel wide, she stopped.

Now, things were different, the orientation of clinical workstations and equipment not what she was used to. Didn’t matter, she told herself as she entered. Walking in between the stainless steel counters and shelving, she looked into every nook and cranny, the whirring sound of the nitrogen cooling units a familiar white noise in the background.

Everything was sparkling clean, from the microscopes to the stacks of supplies to the workstations. Nothing was out of order. Nothing was unusual.

She started to think she was nuts.

But come on, what had she expected? Secret panels sliding back to reveal a clandestine lab?

God, she might well accomplish nothing except career suicide tonight.

After she went through the space three times, she focused on the isolation unit. Behind panels of heavy clear glass, she could see the suit-up anteroom as well as a decontamination area, and beyond, an airlocked chamber with hazmat markings all over it.

The pass card got her into the suit room and she put on the protective gear quickly, pulling a baggy blue isolation suit over her backpack, covering her head and neck with a hood, and latching gloves on that went up nearly to her elbows. After making sure everything was attached correctly, she entered the work area with its negative airflow, its InterVac hood stations, and … nothing else.

The sound of her breathing in the echo chamber of the head protection only increased her anxiety and the clear plastic panel she had to look through made her feel like she were underwater.

To hook herself up to the oxygen feed, she pulled one of the tethers away from its ceiling mount and clicked the hose to an aperture on the back of the suit. Instantly, plastic-smelling air flooded the hood, and the artificial smell of it made her gasp for breath.

Telling herself to get over it, she went around the twenty-by-twenty room.

Sarah found the keypad on the far side of the workstations, and at first, she almost overlooked it, as the thing didn’t seem tied to any portal. But then she saw the ever-so-faint seam in the wall.

It was a door.

John was used to the seizures. He’d been getting them on and off ever since he’d entered the vampire world. His first one, that he had a concrete memory of at any rate, had happened when he’d seen Beth. There had been others, of course, but the one that had occurred when he’d first met his sister, the King’s shellan, had been truly significant.

This particular shake-and-shimmy, now that he was coming out of it, rang that highly important bell again—although he couldn’t understand why.

The electrical storm in his nervous system retreated much like any thunder or snow front, the intensity diminishing, calm returning, a damage assessment the first stop on the back-to-normal road. As John’s eyes opened, he didn’t immediately record what was around him. He was too busy performing an internal check-in, and when the all-good got sounded, his vision provided him with the details of the two people leaning over him.

Xhex was a relief. The male with the long red-and-black hair? Not so much—and not just because John wanted to go for the guy’s jugular as a matter of principle: The mere sight of Murhder’s unusual hair, his gleaming peach eyes, the cut of his jaw and the heft of his shoulders, was enough to make the buzz come back, all kinds of nerve endings firing.

But John was able to beat that shit back.

Even as Murhder’s voice, which sounded strangely familiar, said, “You remind me of an old friend.”

John sat up and studied everything about the male. Then he signed, Have we met before?

Murhder’s dark brows lifted at the ASL. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand—”

Xhex, who had been staring at John as if she’d seen a ghost, seemed to shake herself back into focus.

“My hellren is mute.” She repositioned herself on her knees with a wince. “And, ah, he wants to know if you’ve met before.”

Murhder narrowed his eyes. “Sure feels like it.”

Okay … weird. Even though it didn’t make sense, John felt his bonded male ease off. It was rare for him to trust anybody at first blush, but this former Brother, crazy though he was rumored to be, felt like someone he could put his faith in.

But maybe that was just the seizure talking. Maybe his self-preservation sectors weren’t back on line yet.

“I wanted John to be able to …” Xhex said roughly. “Shit.”

John was about to ask her what was wrong, except there was so much to choose from. And on that note, he focused on the former Brother—and reminded himself that instincts about other people were all well and good, but the reality of the situation was that he didn’t actually know the guy.

I don’t want to have to kill you, he signed.

Murhder looked at Xhex. “What did he say?”

“He doesn’t want to kill you,” she muttered.

John didn’t give a crap that he was only halfway back online. If the other male had an aggressive response to that translation, in any way whatsoever, he was going to go for the fucker’s throat and chainsaw the goddamn thing with his fangs—

The smile that slowly came over Murhder’s face was a bittersweet one. “I’m really glad you feel like that.” He looked at Xhex. “You deserve nothing less and I’m happy for you. It’s been a really long … hard road, and you’re more than due a good life.”

John turned to his mate. Her eyes were watering as she stared across at the other male. But there was no regret in her face; he had no sense that she wished she’d ended up with the former Brother.

They were more like two family members who’d survived a house fire that had destroyed everything.

John lifted his hands to sign. But then he just extended his dagger palm, offering it to the other male.

Murhder’s shake was firm. “Good. Thank you.”

Xhex cleared her throat. “Okay, enough of this. You’re not going to that site by yourself. The two of us are coming with you—and don’t waste our time trying to argue.”

John squeezed the other male’s hand, trying to communicate that he was in. Whoever that female had been, wherever her son was, if Xhex was going, John was coming with.

Murhder looked to the closed bedroom door.

“You know it’s safer this way,” Xhex said. “And you’re more likely to succeed.”

“Do the Brothers know?”

John shook his head, and mouthed, It’s just us. Promise.

Sarah stood in front of the keypad in the isolation unit, aware of seconds passing. She could try a bunch of numerical codes, but what were the chances of getting the correct one when she didn’t even know how long the sequence could be? And then she could get locked out if she got too many wrong in a row.

“Shit,” she breathed, looking around through the hazmat suit’s plastic visor.

But like they’d put a sticky note with the combination on the side of a cabinet?

If she turned around now and left, at least she had a chance of not getting into trouble. No alarms were going off, and maybe if security saw her on any of their monitors, they’d assume she had proper clearance—

Sarah looked down at the credentials. Then turned the laminated card over.