16. We Meet Again, Dr. Underfoot

"She's fortunate that's all I did," Clive ground out.

Clive and Russell wore matching expressions of fury.

"But if it was the other one…" I wished they could read my mind so I wouldn't have to talk. It wasn't that I minded Liang's banishment, but I wondered why.

"Miss Quinn, we always know where you are. You don't even need to be in the house. If you're on the grounds, we hear your heartbeat. We may have been in the study exchanging pleasantries, but we all knew when you returned for the evening."

"When you paused on the stair a moment, I assumed you listened for me," Clive held my hand gently in his own. "We knew when you showered, dressed, came downstairs, and went to the library."

"We can hear the change in your heartbeat that means you're reading," Russell offered.

"Do they get how creepy they are?" Charlotte whispered.

"We're telling you this to explain that every vampire in this house knew you were reading in the library. We were just leaving the study when the woman took the bomb out of her pocket. It was wrapped like a gift, but I heard the tail end of her thought and knew what it was. I gave her pain, driving her to her knees to incapacitate her."

"If we'd been able to interrogate her, we might even now know who's been behind all these attacks," Russell interrupted.

"Yes." Clive's voice had hardened. "Liang, who has always been a brilliant strategist, ensured that wouldn't happen by simultaneously taking the woman's head and swatting the bomb down the hall, directly into the library door."

I thought about that look Liang had given us the previous evening, as Clive and I were getting on the elevator, the way she found reasons to touch him, her standing outside the library, listening when Clive and I were alone. "She loves you. Her only thought was probably neutralizing the threat. The strategy came as an afterthought. Get rid of the competition."

"There is no competition."

I tried to shrug and then whined in pain. "In her mind, there definitely was. I don't know how to explain it so you'll understand."

"I saw it," Russell volunteered.

Clive turned sharply, studying Russell. "You saw what?"

"She wanted you back, Sire. And she couldn't fathom you honestly intended to bind yourself to Miss Quinn. I believe she saw Miss Quinn as an odd experiment and of the moment."

"She's not a villain. You didn't misjudge her. She just wouldn't have been heartbroken if you'd kicked me to the curb."

"Tossing a bomb in your direction is not a passive act," Clive contended.

"Yeah, but that was of the moment. She needed to keep you safe from the explosion. My guess is that it was done with no more thought than, ‘I need to get rid of the bomb and maybe I can make her go away, too.'"

We all heard a car pulling through the gate at the same time.

"I'll check." Russell rushed off to hopefully find Dr. Underfoot. Instead, he returned a few minutes later with Owen's sister Lilah.

Making her way carefully through the rubble, she darted glances this way and that. Right. I doubted too many non-vamps were invited into the nocturne.

Clive rose. "Thank you for coming so quickly. Please, take my seat."

Lilah was clearly nervous but, holding herself stiff, she walked farther into the vampires' lair in order to help me. I wouldn't forget that.

Sitting next to me, she held one hand over my head and the other over my heart. "Concussion. Dislocated shoulder. A broken collarbone. First-degree burns. Cuts and bruises." She opened her eyes. "The collarbone has already begun to knit together. I can help with that and the concussion. The shoulder should wait for Dr. Underfoot. I don't want to make it worse."

"Any help you're able to give," Clive said, "we will gratefully accept."

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Her voice was calm and even, but I could tell she was worried I was in a dangerous situation and needed an extraction.

I patted her hand. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," I assured her. "I was in a lot of pain initially and feeling really floaty, like I was watching myself bleed, but I'm doing better now."

"I've been blocking your pain," Clive said.

Right. Forgot. "In that case, I have no idea how bad it is."

"Okay." She looked directly at Clive, the first time since she'd arrived. "Would you like Dr. Underfoot to check her first? Once I get started, it's difficult to pause without losing ground."

"In that case—"

Russell walked back in, this time with Dr. Underfoot, a dwarf who stood four feet tall with dark hair, ruddy skin, and an impressively bushy beard. Dr. Underfoot wore a three-piece tweed suit and carried a large leather bag.

"Miss Quinn, Miss Wong. It's good to see you both, although I'm sorry for the circumstance." He studied the library before focusing on me. "Your skin is red, although I don't see any blistering."

"There was," Clive said. "The explosion threw her back into the fireplace. It took us a couple of minutes to put out the flames so we could get in the room. She was over there, in the rubble. Her head was at a bad angle, blood running down the side. Her skin was bright red and blistered."

I could see his hands fisted in his pockets and I felt for him. Clive needed control. I held out my hand to him and he took it.

"I was able to stop the bleeding and deal with her pain, but I didn't feel confident in doing anything else. Miss Wong says she has a concussion, a broken collarbone, and a dislocated shoulder."

When the doctor touched my shoulder, I felt a stab of pain and a whine slipped through. "And Miss Wong is correct. Be ready to help with the pain, Mr. Fitzwilliam." He kept one strong, hairy hand on my shoulder while the other lifted my arm at the elbow.

Before I had the time to brace for pain, he'd popped it back into the joint. I had one brief moment of intense pain and then I was floating again.

"Before Miss Wong begins her work, let me do a quick exam." He prodded and poked and flexed my limbs, not finding any injuries in addition to what Lilah had already identified. Talking was getting easier, but I pointed to my throat. He had me open my mouth and declared the soft tissue a bright, blistered red.

Once he moved aside, Lilah resumed the chair and began to work on me.

"Is Owen okay?"

She paused. "I believe he will be. His headaches are lessening. Relax, Sam. Let me work."

I must have fallen asleep because when I eventually opened my eyes, I was lying in bed, Clive sitting up next to me reading. "The last time I had a concussion, I woke to find you sitting with me. Different room. Different bed." The light in the room was low for me. I didn't know how he was able to make out the words on the page.

"Sadly," he began, closing the book and tossing it on his nightstand, "the common denominator is me." He brushed a stray hair from my face. "I braided your hair. I know you don't like sleeping with it loose, but I didn't do a very good job."

"You braided my hair?" If we'd been in a cartoon, little hearts would have been circling my head.

"Perhaps we should say the attempt was made." He reclined beside me, his head propped on his hand. "It's only fair to tell you, as my future wife, that I will never be a hairdresser."

"That definitely narrows our options."

"Indeed." His fingers gently feathered across my forehead and temple.

"I suppose we'll need to muddle through as we are. In your case, though, I think job options at the unemployment office for a former Master vampire are going to be pretty limited."

"Pity."

I wasn't ready to leave the silliness behind, but I needed to know. "Does knowing who the bomber is help pinpoint our nemesis?"

He sighed, a long, strong finger sliding down my nose and over my lips. "No. Godfrey's been acquainted with her for centuries. When living in England, he occasionally ran into her, but she's thoroughly forgettable, neither too powerful nor too weak and therefore not noticed."

"But we think she's connected? She's not just some random mad bomber?"

He grinned and dropped a kiss on my nose. "We don't think so, no. Now, tell me how you're feeling."

"A little muzzy and sore, but nowhere near as bad as I thought I'd be feeling." When I moved my shoulder, there was a quick zing of pain and then nothing.

He reached back, turned off the light, and then settled in. "I'm still controlling your pain. When I go out, though, that's going to disappear. You have meds and a water bottle on your nightstand."

Normally, he'd pull me into his arms, but I was too battered for that. He, instead, wrapped his hand around mine in the dark. "I'll stay awake as long as I can. Try to sleep. If we're lucky, you can go back under before I'm out."

We were not, unfortunately, lucky. When Clive went out, a million pains made themselves known. As gingerly as I could, I slid out of bed and turned on the bedside lamp. The bright light felt like a hammer to the head. I took the meds and used the bathroom, realizing Clive must have showered me, cleaning off the dirt, soot, and blood before putting me in my favorite pjs and braiding my hair. For a ruthless bastard, he was pretty sweet.

That brief jaunt exhausted me. Shuffling back to bed, I clicked off the lamp and slid under the covers. Thankfully, the meds did their job and I was pulled back under.

Hours later when I awoke, I was feeling better. Natural werewolf healing, augmented by Lilah's magic and Dr. Underfoot's medicine meant that, while not back to normal, I was on the mend. All that healing also meant I was ravenous.

I donned slippers and a baggy hoodie I wore over my pajamas and then shuffled down the hall to the elevator. There were two flights of stairs between me and food.

Norma was probably in her office, but I avoided it, going straight for the kitchen. I didn't want to have to explain why I was stiff and covered in bruises. I found a steak, asparagus, and rice plate in the refrigerator.

Feeling even better after eating, I chose the stairs this time. One long, hot shower later, I dressed in my softest, loosest yoga pants and hoodie, slid back into slippers, and left my hair long. My shoulder wasn't up to braiding at the moment.

Not wanting to avoid it any longer, I walked slowly down the stairs and straight to the library. Grief was like a vise in my chest as I took it all in. The library had been cleaned out. The furniture on the far side of the enormous room remained, along with my window seat. The rest—the stone, wood, and plaster rubble that had shot across the room—had been cleared. All the broken, singed books that had been scattered across the floor, removed.

The beautiful wooden floor was scorched. Rebuilding the library was going to be a gargantuan task. Wanting to do something to help, I went to the edge of the blast zone, where books still sat precariously on shelves, and began to cull. When I found one that had been damaged too badly to keep, I reached into my pocket to take a picture of the cover. I wanted to compile a list of the titles we needed to replace. My pocket was empty and I remembered my phone was gone. Slamming into shards of marble was not, it seemed, compatible with tech.

After hours at it, the meds were wearing off and I was exhausted. I should have gone upstairs but didn't have the energy. I'd hit the wall.

"Excuse me, Miss Quinn."

I turned to find Norma standing at the missing wall. "Yes?"

"Should you be up? Are you feeling okay?"

Her genuine concern helped battle back the overwhelming sadness of these ruins. "I'm okay. I'm just fading fast." I gestured to my destination, the window seat.

She crossed the blackened floor to me. "I was told you needed a new phone. It was just delivered." She handed me a small handled bag containing a box.

"Thank you. I'll set it up later."

"Already taken care of. You're good to go."

"Even bigger thank you." I was having a hard time keeping my eyelids open.

Norma took my arm and guided me. "I programmed my number into the phone. If you need anything, you call. Okay?"

"You bet." Zombie walking to the window seat, I wrapped myself in a throw, fluffed a pillow under my head, and promptly fell asleep.