Page 102 of Secrets in the Dark
This one ran beautifully late.
And when they slept, it was deeply.
Still, the sun had barely risen when Mason heard his phone ringing. He reached over to the bedside table and answered it sleepily, not looking at the caller ID.
He was startled by the hoarse, mechanically altered voice that came to his ears, speaking three words, and three words only.
“Vampires are real!”
“What is it?” Della asked.
He shook his head, frowning. “I’m not sure...”
He saw that his phone was ringing again. This time, he looked at the caller ID.
It was Jackson Crow.
“I don’t know,” he told her. “But I think I’m about to find out.”
New York Timesbestselling author Heather Graham has Blackbird confront their past when the murderer behind their first case breaks loose!
Read on for a sneak peek ofCursed at Dawn
Cursed at Dawn
by Heather Graham
Prologue
Yes, he was bleeding.
No, he didn’t care.
He’d replace the blood soon enough. Because for now...
They were rushing to make sure the bleeding had stopped. He lay with his eyes closed, waiting. The right moment would come. They checked his heart; they monitored his breathing...
The medical profession offered people who were rather pathetic. They took their Hippocratic oath, and then they were bound to save every man. Of course, many of them tended to think they were gods and had the power of life and death. Arrogant gods. But even gods could fall. Like Dr. Henson. All around him, people were rushing to save the life of the prisoner who had been plugged with a shiv in the dining room.
Rather foolish! That prisoner might well get the death penalty from either the federal government or the state of Louisiana, not to mention the other places he faced charges.
But of course, his intent was to live.
And he had faked the riot in the cafeteria with a little help from his friends.
He was good at making friends. He was such a nice guy.
“Steady,” the nurse said, issuing a sigh of relief. “His blood pressure was so low...but it’s climbing. A hundred and ten over seventy. I think we’ve got the bleeding stopped.”
“I guess whoever hates this guy hasn’t got the best aim in the world,” the doctor said, shrugging. “Well, I guess he’ll make trial. Or trials. I understand the charges against him are massive, and a lot of people want a piece of him. We have provided the whole so they can all have their pieces. Sometimes...yeah, well, we’re here to save lives, right? Even if they don’t deserve to be saved. Yep. We save lives. I’m going to get the guards to get back in here—we’ll keep him in the infirmary, but I want him cuffed to the bed.”
“He may not make it yet, Doctor,” the nurse murmured. “I saw the floor where he was lying when they dug him out the pile of prisoners. He’s lost so much blood. I hope the transfusions are enough—”
“I want him cuffed. Hold tight.”
It was going just the way that he wanted—the way the axe murderer, Justin Miles, had said it would. So much for high security! Guards outside? But then he’d been a dying man, and they’d worried so to save his life; it wasn’t good for prisoners to die in the penal system.
The doctor went out. And it was a piece of cake.
