“August, please.” He rolls his eyes. “Identifying weaknesses in humans is a basic vampire skill—and, in case you haven’t noticed, I rather enjoy studying your body anyway.” Jude takes a step closer and I lean back, causing him to let out a frustrated sigh. “Would you please relax? I just want to fix it for you.”

“Fix it how?” I demand. “Special lab work back at Syndicate Headquarters in the Carpe Diem Mountains?”

“Carpathian,” he corrects, humor glinting in his eyes, “and don’t be ridiculous. We don’t have to go anywhere. Just a little bit of my blood—”

“No. Absolutely not, no way.” I shake my head emphatically. “I am not drinking any vampire blood!”

“August. Literally just a few drops, and your arm will heal within minutes. Maybe even seconds. It won’t hurt you—it requires a whole ritual for a human to Turn, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“It isn’t,” I insist frostily, even though it’s pretty much exactly what I’m afraid of. “I just don’t need any favors from the undead!” Squirming a little, I try to look composed. “I mean, no offense. Believe it or not, I’m cool with it healing the old-fashioned way.”

“And if it turns out to be a hairline fracture, that could take weeks, during which you won’t have full use of your arm. Are you cool with that, too? A psychopath like Rasputin watching your house, Viviane Duclos biding her time and waiting for—”

“Okay, you’ve made your point,” I cut him off desperately, already dizzy with alarm—because he’s right, damn it. After witnessing the intense battle between Daphne and Mr. Strauss last night, I’m fully aware that I could have a dozen arms or no arms at all, and I’d still be lucky to last five seconds in hand-to-hand combat with any of the killers currently gunning for me. But leaving myself deliberately weakened is unforgivable, especially when a cure is staring me right in the face. “Just … what do I do?”

“Well…” Jude steps even closer, our toes almost touching. “The most fun way I know is if I cut my tongue just a little bit, and then we kiss until—”

“No. No thank you—next idea!” I’m dizzy again, and punching my pockets down again, because there is clearly something wrong with me. I’m being stalked by two different cults, my art teacher tried to sword me to death, and Jude just finished his second attempt at convincing me to surrender my life to the Syndicate, but thinking about sucking on his face just a little bit is already giving me a boner? I’m sick! I’m sick.

“Okay.” He lets out a sigh. “The boring way, then.”