Part of that was just his intense sexiness; he was powerfully handsome. Part of it was love. I hadn’t planned on falling for a guy who’d driven me crazy when we were younger. But feelings were unpredictable that way.

He strode toward me, ignoring the stares of the nurses who watched him like he was a very expensive meal they were extremely ready to devour. He had that effect on people, and it probably didn’t hurt that he was wearing workout gear: black sneakers, black shorts, and a sleeveless black technical shirt that showed off plenty of muscle.

Lulu came in behind him, still wearing her ensemble from the art show.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Roger said, “but I made a call.”

“Not at all,” I said.

Connor reached me, put his hands on my face, concern darkening his blue eyes. I heard the nurses across the room sighing.

“You’re all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Theo’s still being treated.”

Lulu was next in line for a hug.

“Did you ditch your party?” I asked.

“It was winding down,” she said with a smile, “so I took an Auto. This is more important.”

Given how much she loathed supernatural drama, it meant that much more that she’d come. “Thank you,” I said.

“So, what the hell happened?” she asked.

“Long story short, ghosts and a missing informant.”

“Ghosts?” Connor asked.

“Yeah, of the human and canine varieties. So if you have any sway with your ghostly brethren, tell them I’m pissed.”

“Did you get bitten?”

“No. It was the human ghosts that did the damage. They could pack a punch. And we think they took Rose.”

Connor squeezed my hand. “We’ll get her back.”

A woman emerged from a treatment area. She wore a white jacket over brilliantly purple scrubs and came toward us with a businesslike stride. She looked enough like Petra that they might have been sisters. This must be the doctor-cousin.

She reached us, gave us an evaluating look. “I’m Dr. Anderson. I’m helping Mr. Martin.”

“Roger Yuen, Connor Keene, Lulu Bell, and Elisa Sullivan,” Petra said, introducing us. “This is my cousin, Dr. Anderson.”

The doctor nodded, brisk but polite, then turned her gaze to Petra, held out a small vial. “Mr. Martin agreed I could provide this to you.”

Petra took it, held it up to the light, where it glowed faintly green.

“He’s okay?” Lulu asked.

“Are you immediate family?” she asked.

“No,” Lulu drew out the word, as if that might stretch it a bit closer to yes.

“In that case, I’m sorry, but the law prohibits me from sharing his health information.” She sniffed the air, looked at me, and moved closer. Then she turned me around, stopped when she faced my back. “You were struck as well,” Anderson said, gentle fingers probing near my shoulder.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Vampires heal quickly.”

“I’m aware of supernatural propensities,” she said. “Supernatural anatomy is a required course at most American medical colleges.” And with that professional aplomb, she pushed aside my shirt to inspect it further, fingers gentle but unhesitant. “Quick healing depends on the nature of the injury. And this looks very . . . green. Puncture wounds, four of them.”