“Allow me to show you in,” the butler said before walking toward a heavy steel door. “May I please get you some victuals?”

As if they would be doing him a favor to ask for something to eat.

While Boone and the butler talked, Helania glanced around. They were in some kind of underground parking area that had been built to downtown, commercial-grade standards, and the place was not empty. There was a bus with blacked-out windows parked across the way, and a couple of cars lined up, including a very fancy low-slung Audi of some description that had snow marks down its sleek sides.

Wow. She couldn’t believe anyone had taken something like that out in the wintry streets. Hardcore, indeed—

“Helania?” Boone said. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“Oh, no, sorry.” She shook herself back to attention. “I’m fine, thank you.”

As the butler held the heavy panel open with ease, she decided he was heartier than his age suggested. And as she entered the facility, she was not prepared for what she found. When Boone had said the place was top-notch, she had assumed the training center would be sizable and kitted out well. But . . . wow. A long, long corridor stretched out to the other side of the world, as far as she could tell, and radiating off it were countless doors, some of which were open. As they walked along, she saw classrooms worthy of a major university, and what looked like interrogation rooms. In the air, she caught a very faint whiff of chlorine, which suggested they had a pool somewhere close by, and as the butler stopped at the open doorway of a professional-grade medical examination room, she could hear the clinking of weights and the bouncing of basketballs off in the distance.

“I shall go summon Doctor Jane,” Fritz said with a deep bow. “And I shall await to be summoned for your return trip.”

After both she and Boone thanked the butler again, and Fritz walked off with a skip in his step, they looked into the exam room. There was a patient table in the center under the medical lights, a thin sheet of paper pulled down over its padded surface, a pair of stirrups at the ready. There was also a lamp with a crane neck off to one side.

Internal exams were so much fun.

“What are they going to do to me,” she said aloud.

“Not much today,” came a response.

Helania pivoted and instantly recognized the female who spoke. It was the doctor she’d mistaken for an angel, and she was totally relieved that that was who’d be seeing her.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” the doctor said as she came over and offered her hand. “I’m Jane. Let’s get this over with quickly so you can go back to your regularly scheduled programming.”

Helania shook that palm and took note of the short blond hair and dark green eyes. Yes, she remembered the kindness the doctor had shown, even if she had not been aware of many specifics.

“Thank you for being so good to me,” she said to the female. “I am very grateful.”

A reassuring hand came down on her shoulder. “I just wanted to help. You were really not feeling well.”

The doctor greeted Boone with a hug and then indicated the way into the exam room. “All we’re doing tonight is checking vitals and taking some blood to assess your hormone levels. Then you’re free to go.”

Eyeing those tucked-in stirrups, Helania was beyond grateful. “Terrific.” As she entered the room, she took off her parka and put it on a side chair, then hopped up onto the table. When Boone stayed out in the corridor, she frowned.

“Aren’t you going to come in with me?”

* * *

Boone sat and watched everything from one of the three chairs that were lined up against the wall across from the examination table. Blood pressure. Heart rate and oxygen stats. Temperature. Stethoscope to the chest. Meanwhile, the two females were talking about needlepoint the whole time. How Helania had gotten into it; how Doc Jane’s mother had done it; where to get the best canvases and yarn.

It was a good thing that neither of them was looking for commentary from him on the subject. For one, he didn’t know from knitting—or needlepointing, he guessed it was. Two, it was so much easier to hide the fact that he was hyperventilating if he didn’t open his piehole. Oh, and three, he wasn’t sure he even had a voice.

Being in this medical environment reminded him of all the risks of pregnancies, especially the ones that came at the end. Vampire birthing beds were especially dangerous for both the mahmen and the young. So many died, and it was just dawning on him that Helania would be subject to those terrifying mortality rates.

From an evolutionary point of view, no wonder the needing was such a thing. Without those intense cravings, he couldn’t imagine females would ever be willing to volunteer for pregnancy.

“Okay,” Doc Jane said, “now I have to poke you a little.”

Boone swallowed hard and threw out a hand to Helania’s parka, which had been placed in the chair next to his—as if that would somehow translate into him helping support her directly. But like the vitals part of things, it was so no-drama. Doc Jane brought a little rolling tray over, inspected the inside of one of Helania’s elbows . . . then it was a case of wipe-down, needle insertion, and the tube’s belly was filled. Doc Jane then retracted the tiny steel sword and covered the hole with a cotton ball. Crooking Helania’s arm up, she took the tube and affixed a printed label on it.

“Will you . . .” Helania cleared her throat. “Will we know the results right now?”

“No. It’s too early.” The doctor held up the vial. “This will give us a descending baseline, however. We’ll need you back in forty-eight hours. If your hormone levels go up from here, then you’re pregnant. If they continue to go down, you’re not.”

“And what happens if I am?”

“Then we schedule you for regular monitoring. Or, if it’s easier, I’ll transfer the care over to Havers so you don’t need to be escorted in here for your appointments.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone—”

“She’ll be treated here,” Boone heard himself say.

“I’m happy to do it either way.” Doc Jane smiled at Helania. “I think what’s important is that you choose how you’d like to handle things. I won’t be offended, I promise. The way I see it, there is so much outside of your control during pregnancy that it’s important to grab the reins when you can.”

“I agree with Boone. I’d rather do it here.”

Boone nodded. “Good. That’s decided.”

“Then it would be my honor to see you through to birth if you are pregnant.” Doc Jane nodded to the door. “Now, I understand Butch is waiting to see you all? You’re free to go, and I’ll see you about this time the night after tomorrow if that works for your schedule.”

“It works. But will you call me with the result from tonight?” Helania asked.

“Sure. But again, whatever number it is won’t tell us anything until we have something to compare it to.”

“Okay.” Helania hopped off the table and came over for her coat. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be in touch,” the doctor said as she opened the door and waited for them with a patient smile.

Boone handed Helania’s parka over, and then they were out in the corridor and he was leading the way back toward the schooling part of things. “We’re going down here.”

As they walked along, he wanted to put his arm around her. “Are you okay with how that went?”

“I really like Doc Jane.”

“Me, too.”

“It’s just a waiting game now.”

They fell quiet again, but he was sure they were both thinking the same thing: Holy crap, what if they had created a new life? And she had to carry it safely to term?

The implications seemed as vast as the galaxy, and it was a relief to stop in front of the door to one of the interrogation rooms.

“I think this is the right one.” He knocked. “Butch?”

When someone answered on the other side, Boone opened the way in. One look to the right at the photographs that had been put on the wall and he recoiled. Behind him, Helania likewise gasped.

Over at the table, Butch looked up from a pad of notes. “Oh. Sorry. Should have given you a heads-up.”

Boone went over and stood in front of the photographs from the morgue, his size guaranteeing that nothing of the images showed.

“We don’t have to talk here,” Butch said.

“No.” Helania shook her head. “I will not ignore this or pretend any of it didn’t happen.”

As she approached the wall, Boone didn’t budge, but she wasn’t looking at what he was blocking. She was focused on the center portion that was marked with a roman numeral II. Reaching up, she touched a piece of paper with her sister’s name on it.

“How you doing with Isobel’s death?” Butch asked quietly. “And I’m sorry to be blunt about it.”

Boone opened his mouth to stop the line of questioning, but Helania got there first. Looking over her shoulder at the Brother, she said, “I’m glad you’re up front. And as for handling it? Not much better than I did when I first found out.”

“I know where you’re at.”

“Yes, you’ve seen a lot of homicides, I imagine.”

“I lost my sister, too.”

Boone looked at the Brother sharply. “I didn’t know that.” Butch leaned back in his chair, balancing on its two hind legs. Tapping a blue Bic pen on his thigh, he focused on the layout he’d made. “My sister was abducted, raped, and murdered, and I was the last one who saw her as she drove off with the boys who did it to her. I was twelve years old. She was fifteen.”

Helania walked over to the table. When she tried to pull a chair out, she frowned.

“They’re screwed down,” Butch said as he righted himself. “I have a screwdriver—”

“No, it’s okay.” Helania slipped into the space between the table and the seat, her back to the photographs and notes. “Can you tell me . . . can you tell me about how you dealt with her loss?”