The Wicked City. Megan Morgan

for vampirism,” Sam said. “Found out the bacteria creates enzymes that cause accelerated cell reproduction, which is why they can live indefinitely unless an essential organ is destroyed. It also affects their skin cells; that’s why they’re sensitive to sunlight.”

      “It won’t kill them,” Micha said. “It’ll just make them sick with prolonged exposure.”

      “The reason vampires have other abilities has more to do with the structure of their society,” Sam went on. “They almost always choose people who already have some level of paranormal ability. However, once they turn, they become impervious to everyone else’s abilities. Scientists are still not sure why. I’m sure some other normal will come along and pick up where she left off so we can all find out.”

      June wasn’t into the biology crap supernatural people liked to go on about these days, but the explanation intrigued her. “So why do they drink blood?”

      “If they don’t,” Micha said, “the bacteria will deplete their own blood.” Apparently he could remember the science, just not the scientist. “The fresh blood gives it an environment to live in. Since the discovery, they’ve actually found transfusions sustain them better than drinking. Some vampires have decided to be more humane and stop feeding altogether in favor of transfusions.”

      “A kinder, gentler vampire.” June sucked in a breath. “Jesus Christ.”

      “You seriously don’t know any of this?” Sam shook his head. “You’ve never picked up a copy of Paranormal Scientific Weekly?”

      “No. You ever pick up a copy of Inked?”

      “She was looking for a cure,” Micha said softly.

      The two of them looked at him. June's skin crawled.

      “What makes you think vampires want to be cured?” Sam asked him.

      “A few of them do. Some of them don’t realize what they’re getting into. You have to educate non-vampires as well. It’s an infection, so there’s a possibility you can get it from things other than bites or ingesting infected blood. There’s a small chance it can be sexually transmitted.”

      “The next great STD.” June stood. “I can’t watch any more of this. I need a smoke.”

      She hoped she would feel better after a cigarette. She didn’t. She hoped she would feel better after she ate. She didn’t. She glowered at Sam every chance she got.

      “I have to figure out a plan,” Sam told her. “You have to be patient.”

      “I can’t be patient. My brother might have been alive when your spy saw him in that dude’s head, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay that way.”

      “If you think you could pass the time more easily in a coma, I’ll be glad to put you in one.”

      “I'd like to see you try, tough guy.”

      Sam planned to leave for the night and once again instructed them not to wander out of the room. They were allowed to call room service, but he told them not to pick up the phone if it rang.

      “I won’t contact either of you by phone, ever,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

      “So you’re just gonna leave us here,” June said.

      “You’ll be safe. I keep refugees here all the time. I don’t need to hang out and baby sit; I’ll be back in the morning. Besides, don’t you two want to be alone?”

      June scowled. “Good night.”

      They made sleeping arrangements after Sam left. Micha inspected the bedroom. “There’s a huge bed. We can both sleep in here.”

      June was harboring more than a touch of guilt. “No, that’s all right. You take it. I’ll sleep out here on one of the sofas.”

      “That’s silly.” Micha walked out through the French doors. “I’ve been sleeping on a sofa all week. It sucks.”

      “I know, it’s just…” She didn’t know what it was “just.”

      She searched for some pillows and blankets and located said items in a closet near the door. Micha didn’t argue further. He stood and watched while she made up a bed for herself on one of the sofas.

      “Are you feeling better?” she asked, avoiding his gaze.

      “I guess so.”

      She unfurled a blanket. “Glad one of us is.” She hesitated before saying, “I thought for a second earlier you were remembering your wife. Is anything coming back to you?”

      “Hm. I…remember coffee.”

      “Coffee?”

      “I always took a thermos of coffee to seminars. The swill they serve at those things is awful. I think she made it for me. I was always raving about it. I seem to remember telling people she made it.”

      June sat down on the sofa. “I guess that’s a start.” She had another knife fight with her guilt and once again, it stabbed her in the eye. “Guess we better try to get some sleep.”

      “Yeah. Guess so.”

      June was convinced she would never be able to fall asleep given the turmoil in her head, but her body, exhausted by stress and many previous nights of scant and sketchy sleep, decided otherwise.