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think,” Etienne said. “I come up with some of my best ideas in there.”
    â€œHmmm.” Bastien led him along the hall, downstairs and to the back of the house. The stairway to the basement was situated in the back corner of the kitchen. His brother urged him down it, holding his arm as his swaying increased. Soon he had Etienne in the coffin in the corner of his office. “I’ll be right back,” he announced.
    Etienne murmured a weary response and closed his eyes. He was exhausted and growing achey. He needed more blood and knew Bastien was fetching him some.
    Despite the growing pain of his body attacking itself in search of more blood, Etienne fell asleep. He woke up several moments later to feel a poke in his arm. Opening his eyes, he found Bastien leaning over him, inserting an IV in the vein below his elbow.
    â€œDo I look like Lissianna to you?” he asked irritably.He tried to move his arm away, but Bastien was stronger.
    â€œNo, you don’t look like Lissianna. Her face isn’t peeling off,” his brother responded dryly. “I would have brought you ten nubile virgins to feast on, but I couldn’t find any. Virgins are in short supply nowadays, you know.”
    Etienne gave a weary laugh and relaxed.
    â€œMore seriously,” Bastien said as he worked, “you need a lot of blood, a lot of rest. It’s easier this way. I’ll change the bag while you sleep. You’ll be back to normal by morning.”
    Etienne nodded. “Do you think the girl will live?”
    Bastien was silent for a moment, then sighed. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’ll wake you if…anything happens,” he finished.
    Etienne closed his eyes unhappily. “If she dies, you mean. And if she does, it will be all my fault. I should have done something about Pudge.”
    â€œYou can’t blame yourself, Etienne. It’s hard to know how to deal with such a fellow. I haven’t come up with any ideas myself, and I’ve been pondering the problem since the shooting. We definitely have to deal with him, though.” He straightened and frowned. “I’ll call Lucern and see if he has any ideas. We’ll brainstorm later, when you’re feeling better. You just rest for now.”
    Â 
    It was morning when Etienne awoke. He was back to his old self and feeling a hundred percent again. Lying in the still darkness, he could sense the presence of his mother and brother in his home. He could also sense her presence. She lived.
    Easing out of his coffin, he removed the IV from his arm, collected the IV stand, and carried it upstairs with him. He stashed it in the kitchen closet where he kept it for emergencies or visits from his sister, then continued through the dark silent house and upstairs.
    He found his mother and brother in his bedroom, watching over the woman.
    She was writhing and moaning on the bed. Her hair was a damp tangle around her flushed, feverish face. Etienne frowned. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked anxiously.
    â€œShe’s turning,” his mother said simply.
    Marguerite’s calm attitude soothed him somewhat; then Etienne noted the empty bags of blood stacked on the bedside table. There had to be a dozen. Even as he noted this, his mother stood and began to remove yet another empty bag from the IV stand. As if they had done this several times, which they obviously had, Bastien also stood and moved to the small bar fridge Etienne had placed in a corner of the room. He returned with fresh blood.
    â€œWhy is she taking so much?” Etienne asked.
    â€œThere was a lot of damage, son. She lost a lot ofblood from the wound, and there are also thirty years of living to be repaired.”
    Etienne relaxed a little more. “How long does this go on?”
    Marguerite shrugged. “It depends.”
    â€œOn what?”
    â€œOn what damage needs repairing.”
    Etienne scowled. “She looked