“I’m going to start now,” Makeda said. “You know this will hurt. Do you need something to… bite down on?” It was the only nonchemical relief Makeda could think of. She’d offer Saba a bottle of araki—the Ethiopian version of moonshine—but she’d seen the woman drink it like water, and it seemed to have no effect.

Saba looked over her shoulder. “Just do it. I heal quickly.”

The needle went in. Makeda hit bone, noting in the back of her mind that Saba’s pelvis was softer than she’d expected. Her stomach churned for a moment, imagining the pain. Saba didn’t flinch.

“These stem cells.” Saba spoke normally even as Makeda withdrew the liquid marrow. “They can rebuild the blood in any immortal?”

“That’s our theory.” Makeda continued to work as Saba spoke. She wasn’t going to rush the procedure even without anesthetic. That would do no one any favors. “That’s what the trial in Ireland will determine.”

“When will you know?”

“It’s not certain.” She released the lip she’d been biting down on and tasted her own blood. “It could be very fast, which is what I suspect, but it could be slow. Slow doesn’t mean it’s not working. Kato’s recovery has taken four years.”

“Because it was with his children’s blood, not his sire’s.” Saba paused. “If anyone asks you if this treatment has been successful, you will lie and tell them it is.”

Makeda froze. “What?”

“This is not only about curing those vampires and humans who are infected by Elixir,” Saba said. “This is about creating confidence in me. So if anyone asks you directly if this cure will work, you will tell them it will.”

“I’m not a liar.”

Makeda withdrew the first needle and immediately moved to store the sample before she grabbed the second needle from the tray.

“You will lie about this.” Saba looked over her shoulder and met Makeda’s eyes directly. “You will do this because my son has asked me to save this world instead of razing it to the ground and starting anew. Do you understand me? If I am offering to put up with the tedium of the human world until this virus is eradicated, then you are going to lie if anyone asks you.”

Makeda’s arguments of academic integrity seemed pitiful when Saba framed the situation. She was correct. Lucien’s plan for Saba’s takeover would only work if vampires were completely and utterly confident in her ability to cure them.

“I’ll lie,” Makeda said. “But what will happen if the cure doesn’t work?”

Saba turned back to staring at the wall. “Make it work, Doctor. The other options would be… distasteful.”

Saba’s marrow donations were secure and already flying to Ireland with a discreet wind vampire who had connections to Saba’s friend, Ziri. Lucien had contacted Brenden McTierney, who was expecting the samples of both marrow and blood by immortal express within the next couple of days.

Once again, Makeda was at loose ends.

Hirut knocked on the tukul door before she popped her head in. “Saba has asked for you to come to the fire,” the gentle vampire said. “Gedeyon and I are serving a meal there while they plan.”

“Thank you.” Makeda wondered if she’d see Hirut again after she left the island. “Hirut?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever leave here?”

Hirut smiled. “Will you miss me, sister?” She was as tall as Makeda, but her figure had been more generous in life, so her hugs reminded Makeda of her older sister’s and her mother’s. And while Gedeyon was the official caretaker of the islands, it was Hirut’s hospitality and cooking that had made the island feel like home while they’d been there.

“I don’t envy your adventures,” Hirut said. “I do leave here, but I don’t go very far most of the time. Why do you ask?”

“If something happens to me, I would like you to speak to my parents,” Makeda said. “You will be able to understand them. But you’d have to go to the United States to do that. Will you?”

A shadow fell over the other vampire’s eyes, but she nodded. “I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“But you should not doubt Saba. You will be safe.”

“I don’t doubt Saba,” Makeda said. “But I’m young, and I know nothing about any of this. I need to have a plan in place if I don’t survive. Do you understand?”

“I think I do.” Hirut nodded toward the fire. “You should go to them. They are waiting.”

Makeda walked to the fire and spotted Lucien and Kato sitting on two rock seats, a larger rock between them. It was as flat and smooth as a table. It also hadn’t been there an hour ago.

Saba.

A map was spread on the surface of the rock. Lucien’s gaze cut toward her for a moment before he looked back at Kato and the papers spread in front of them. They were speaking in low voices, and Lucien was jotting down notes.

Leave the healer… we need the soldier.

He did look like a soldier. He looked like a soldier talking with his general, in fact. Kato’s eyes were as sharp as Lucien’s. He scraped a hand over his beard as he thought. He’d nod occasionally at something Lucien said. Then he’d frown. Then he’d offer some quiet comment of his own, and Lucien would nod or frown or jot down more notes.