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dying.”
    â€œShe can’t die. She saved my life.” Etienne ignored the blood his mother held out and forced himself off the table.
    â€œSit down. You aren’t strong enough yet,” Marguerite said, her voice sharp.
    â€œI’m fine.” Etienne knelt beside the girl, ignoring his mother’s muttered, “Sure you’re fine. And ‘Pokey isn’t a real threat, this is all in fun.’ Everything’s all fun and games until someone gets an ax in the chest.”
    â€œPudge, not Pokey,” Etienne corrected, reaching out to check the dying girl’s pulse. He recognized her from his last trip to the morgue. She was beautiful and just as pale now as she had been on his last visit—butthat time her pallor had been caused by illness. This time she was suffering from blood loss. Etienne was very aware that some of her blood had gone down his throat. The woman had saved his life. He had been weak, but he had seen her leap between him and the ax Pudge wielded.
    â€œI tried to stop the bleeding, but I’m afraid it’s too late,” Bastien said quietly. “Nothing can save her.”
    â€œOne thing can,” Etienne countered. He tried to roll up his sleeve. The brittle cloth broke away in his fingers, so he just ripped it off.
    â€œWhat do you think you’re doing? You can’t turn her,” his mother said.
    â€œShe saved my life,” Etienne repeated.
    â€œWe have rules about these things. You can’t turn people willy-nilly, and you can’t do it without permission.”
    â€œI’m allowed to turn a life partner.”
    â€œLife partner!” His mother sounded excited rather than upset. Bastien looked worried.
    â€œYou don’t even know this woman, Etienne,” his brother pointed out. “What if you don’t like her?”
    â€œThen I won’t have a life partner.”
    â€œYou would give up a life partner for this woman?” Bastien asked.
    Etienne paused, then simply nodded. “Without her, I wouldn’t have life.” He bent his head and bit himself on the wrist. Red liquid bubbled to the surface, anda moment later he took his teeth away and pressed his bleeding flesh to the dying girl’s mouth.
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    â€œThere, all we can do now is wait.” Marguerite straightened and turned to her son. “Now we have to tend to you.”
    â€œI’m fine,” Etienne muttered. His gaze fixed on the woman in his bed. They had taken her from the hospital and brought her here to his home. His mother and Bastien had stripped her, strapped her to the bed, and fit an IV into her arm to feed her the blood she would need to facilitate the changes. Etienne didn’t know what to expect. He’d never witnessed a turning. He wasn’t too sure it was going well. The woman had been silent and still after he poured his own blood down her throat, but in the car on the way home, she’d started moaning and thrashing about. Etienne still wasn’t sure he hadn’t been too late, but he was a little more hopeful.
    â€œYou’re not fine. You’re still shedding burnt skin and you’re terribly pale. You need rest and blood.”
    â€œI can have blood here.”
    â€œYou need to lie down,” his mother insisted. “You’re swaying on your feet.”
    â€œI’ll see to him,” Bastien announced and took Etienne’s arm.
    Etienne considered arguing, but he didn’t really have the energy, so he let his brother lead him without protest.
    â€œWhich room?” Bastien asked, pausing in the hall outside. “Have you finished furnishing the spare rooms yet?”
    â€œNo.” Etienne grimaced. “But my coffin is in my office.”
    â€œGood Lord! Do you still have that thing?” Bastien shuddered in disgust. “I got rid of mine the moment they were no longer necessary. I don’t know how you stand having it.”
    â€œIt helps me