“Okay, okay,” I said, trying to take all that in. What the hell had happened to me?

“Here”—Eli reached over the arm guard and pushed the little red button to call the nurse—“we better tell them that you’re awake.”

The nurse came in to check on me, and a few minutes later, a balding, fiftyish man in a white coat strode into the room, too. An embroidered patch on his coat read, Dr. Lipowitz. I glanced at Eli to make sure we were comfortable with this guy, and he gave me a little nod and slid back in his chair to give the doctor room. Vetted.

“How are we feeling?” Lipowitz asked me, pulling out a little flashlight. He shone it into my eyes while I squinted.

I hate it when doctors use the word we. “Hate to speak for you, but I’m doing better.”

Eli made a tiny sound like a snort, but Lipowitz frowned. Not a joker. “Any headaches?”

“Just a little one. What happened to me?”

He sat back in the chair, tucking the flashlight back in his coat pocket. “To be honest, Ms. Bernard, we’re not really sure. You appear to have had a concussion, but there’s no trauma to your head.”

“A coma?” I asked, still working on arranging words properly.

He shook his head. “No, not technically. According to your MRI, your brain was simply overwhelmed.” I must have looked confused, or maybe he just really liked lecturing. “Think of the brain as sort of an electrical outlet,” he went on. “Yours just sort of...shorted out. We’d like to have you sign some forms allowing us to study your MRI further, and possibly even publish our findings.”

I thought about that. It would be kind of interesting to know if there was something physically different about my brain, something that caused my nullness. Could I have it removed, like a tumor? But then it occurred to me that if there was something really different about my brain, then that could create a lot of fuss and attention that I didn’t need.

I shook my head, rather weakly. I felt very tired. “No, thank you,” I said.

I’d thought that was pretty polite, but the doctor got a little huffy about it. When his attempts to persuade me failed, and after Eli had started to get upset and suggested where the doc could put his studies, Lipowitz finally left. Which worked out well, because my eyelids were closing anyway. The last thing I was aware of as I drifted off was Eli squeezing my hand.

I didn’t dream.

When I woke up again, darkness had fallen outside the window on my left. Jesse was asleep in the uncomfortable-looking armchair by the window. I half smiled. He looked so cute with his head bent all crooked. I slowly turned my head to the right—and saw Dashiell sitting in the chair next to my bed, looking calm and composed.

I may have let out a bit of a squeak. I swallowed and started again. “Are you here to kill me?”

“No, Scarlett.” His face softened a little, and I let myself relax. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving Beatrice. I know I am not what one would call benevolent. But Beatrice...She is my heart.”

I nodded, which hurt way less this time. “And Jesse?” I moved my head back to him as quickly as I could. He is sleeping, right? I thought with sudden panic.

“I pressed his mind to sleep for a few hours so we can speak. But yes, he can live, too, for now,” Dashiell said seriously. Vampires have no concept of how silly they sound sometimes. “He has not spoken about our world to anyone, as far as we can tell, and he may turn out to be useful. He was certainly helpful in disposing of Mr. Hess.”

“Huh?”

His brow furrowed. There was a little bit of a pull from his eyes, and I looked away quickly. I had to get used to avoiding vampires’ gazes.

“I apologize. I thought you’d been told. Jared Hess’s body was found in his bait shop three days ago. Mr. Hess had shot himself after writing out a full confession to the killings in La Brea Park.” He smiled wanly. “Your pet policeman picked up the anonymous tip that led the police to the scene.”

So squeaky-clean Jesse was willing to let another human being die without getting a trial—granted, a psychotic murderer, but still. Interesting. I would have expected to feel a little smug about that, but I mostly just felt guilty. I was too exhausted to think too much about that right now, so I set it aside for later consideration.

“Dashiell, Eli said you knew I would get better—that my thing would come back. How do you know that?”

He looked at my face thoughtfully for a moment, then reached into his pocket. I tensed, but he just pulled out a sleek little cell phone. The idea that vampires hate or fear new technologies is kind of a myth—you don’t live to be hundreds of years old without learning how to adapt. Dashiell pushed a few buttons and held the phone up to me, sideways. It was a little video. I peered at it.

The video was of a nearly naked human woman screaming and throwing herself against the bars of a metal cell. Her face was bruised and swollen, and there were dark mascara streaks under her eyes, which made her look even more terrifying. I looked closer. She was wearing the tatters of a black sheath dress, and her disheveled hair was ink black as well. And then I gasped.

It was Ariadne.

“Is she...?”

“Human?” Dashiell nodded. “There were no nulls anywhere near her when this was taken.”

“But that’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid not,” Dashiell said quietly. “I have heard that a turn was possible for some of the very powerful nulls, but I had never known one who could do it. I suspect you are stronger than we knew.” He hesitated for a moment. “I was aware that Olivia wasn’t entirely forthcoming about some things, and I’m afraid I didn’t help.”