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with, Vonnie?”
    His voice was calm, if not peremptory, but the thing that scared the shit out of him was the fact that she’d been that close to a ganga. Close enough that she could have just as easily been torn to shreds and devoured. “What the hell were you doing out there?”
    Selena pressed her lips together, but if she meant to glare at him, she didn’t succeed. Her face, grimy and blood-streaked, seemed to have gray undertones, although it was hard to tell for certain in the faulty light. She had long thick lashes that fanned over her cheeks; and her straight hair was plastered to her chin and temples. As he brushed it out of the way, exposing slender shoulders and an elegant neck, he noticed a long thin cord around her throat disappearing in a deep vee beneath her arm, as if something weighting it down had fallen to the side.
    She must have realized he noticed it—maybe his fingers had pulled on the lanyard, tightening it against her skin—and she sat upright suddenly, clapping one hand over her half-bared breasts as the other gripped and slid down along the cord. “You should be in bed,” Selena told him.
    A fierceness blazed in her eyes as she stared him down. Ferocity and determination.
    “I’m in a lot better shape than you are,” he said. Much as he wanted to, he didn’t allow his gaze to travel along that cord to see what she was trying to hide. That would give her too much satisfaction.
    “I wasn’t dead three days ago.”
    “No, but you could have been tonight. How the hell did you get away from them?” He looked at her. The peace and serenity he’d admired earlier was gone. She was bedraggled and clearly exhausted; in pain and yet in control—and for a minute, her look reminded him of Sarah Michelle Gellar in Buffy: defiant, and yet weary. World-weary.
    But Selena wasn’t a vampire slayer. Or a zombie slayer, for that matter.
    Yet, the fact remained . . . she had obviously been in close proximity to one. And had escaped with little more than a few scratches. How?
    Just then, Vonnie bustled back into the room (he hadn’t even noticed she’d left). “Here,” she said, setting a heavy bottle on the counter. “Vodka.”
    Before Theo could snatch it up and pour the antiseptic over the seeping gashes, Selena said, “Can you take over here now, Vonnie? He needs to get back in bed.” She steadied her breathing and continued. “I’m not sure what he was doing out of it in the first place.”
    “Looking for the john,” he said flatly. Pain had tightened her features once again and the faint little grunt at the end of her sentence told him she wasn’t feeling any better.
    It wasn’t worth arguing any longer. Clearly Vonnie had regained her competence, and Theo saw no reason to waste any more time here. The sooner he left, the sooner Selena would get cleaned up and taken care of.
    He wasn’t needed, nor should it be his concern. In a day or two, maybe sooner, he’d be leaving this place.
    “Stitches,” he suggested firmly, turning away and realizing that his knees had strengthened considerably during the last thirty minutes. At the same time, however, that shadowy warning hovered at the edge of his vision. Bed might not be a bad idea.
    “I’ll take care of it,” Vonnie said, her voice just as firm as Selena’s. “Now back to your bed. The bathroom is on the way. The hall on the right.”
    Theo cast one more glance at Selena. Her gaze met his—that determination and defiance sitting there, thicker than a brick wall.
    The thing that niggled at him, though, was what the hell was she hiding behind that wall?

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    When Theo opened his eyes again, sunlight blazed through the window. He sat up without difficulty this time, shaking off the remnants of dreams with his copper-haired Sage, some orange-eyed gangas . . . and the curve of a blood-slashed shoulder.
    He wasn’t certain which image left him the most unsettled.
    A crash in the distance, followed by an annoyed bellow, drew