“He’s strong,” Claire whispered. She’d been saying it from the beginning, and had been confident, so blindly confident. But seeing him so pale and weak and shaking … that had terrified her.

“Yes, strong indeed,” Theo said, and patted her hand before he let it go. “A fighter, as he always has been. Today that served him very well, but you must understand that he will require more than physical strength. Michael can tell you that, to a point, but there may be … other factors, for Shane. What little we know of draug encounters with humans tells us the humans are forced into a dream world … or nightmares. I do not know which Shane experienced. So be patient with him, and watch for signs of any … odd behavior. All of you.”

They all nodded. Eve’s grip on Claire’s hand was almost painfully tight, but she took a deep breath and eased up as Theo rose and walked away. “That’s good news,” she said, with forced cheer. “See? Transfusion fixes him right up. He’s going to be fine, CB. Honestly.”

Eve was saying that as much to cheer herself up as to hearten Claire. Claire looked, instead, toward Michael. “How bad is it?” she asked. “Really.”

He didn’t flinch from the question, but she’d seen his nightmares, and he knew it. “Bad,” he said. “But vampires don’t react the same way to the chemicals the draug secrete; we don’t get the dream state that Theo was talking about. So we’re awake, and aware, the whole time. Humans … I don’t know what he was dreaming about, Claire. It could have been good. I hope it was good.”

“Have you talked about what it was like? To anyone?” She glanced at Eve, who looked away, lips compressed. Of course he hadn’t. Eve would have been his listener, but there was a gap between them now that they had to shout across. Maybe it was smaller than it had been, but it was still there. “You should, Michael. It must have been horrible.”

“It’s over,” he said. “And I’m dealing. Shane will, too.” Because that’s the guy code, Claire thought in mild disgust. Deal until you break into a million little pieces. “Come on. Let’s go see him.”

She was almost … reluctant, somehow. Not to see Shane, but to see him so weak. But she was relieved to see, as they entered Theo’s ward room with its neat camp beds and sheets hung between, that Shane was one of two patients, and he looked … better. Theo, or someone, had cleaned him up, so he didn’t look like he’d bathed in his own blood anymore. Even his hair was clean, though still damp.

There was a needle in his arm, and an IV stand with blood bags. Claire winced. She knew how much he hated needles.

She held his hand as she sank down in the chair next to him. “Hey,” she said, and leaned over to brush his messy hair off his forehead. His skin was still ivory pale beneath the tan, but no longer that scary paper white. “Are you feeling better?”