"You want to go after Gérard in this state?" Flash breathed, almost reverently, staring at the lines on Ethan's neck.
Ethan spun toward him. Rage flashed in his eyes.
"You thought I was joking?!" he nearly shouted.
"I told you! I told you it was spreading! That it was getting bigger! And you… you just didn't believe me."
Flash didn't look away.
"I didn't think it was safe. After you drank that shit, I can actually see it now… you know…"
"You look like a dick, and those are the veins on it…"
Ethan let out a bitter, painful laugh that bordered on hysterical.
"Safe…" he repeated.
"Nothing is safe anymore, Flash. I'm already inside this shit."
"Inside me is God knows what, and now… now I've added another dose!"
"I'm only missing HIV and I'll be a walking nuclear bomb!"
He stepped back and leaned against the wall. His head spun. The burning in his chest intensified, turning into a heavy, pulsing pain.
"What now?" he asked quietly, almost in a whisper.
"What's going to happen to me?"
Flash was silent for several long seconds. Then he stepped closer and carefully placed a hand on Ethan's good shoulder.
"Now we wait," he said calmly, though his voice carried tight anxiety.
"And we watch. If something bad starts… we'll be right here."
"Bruno, Gideon, and me. We won't leave you alone. If nothing happens, we'll just flip the bird to the whole thing…"
Ethan closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids the image flared again: smiling Maria handing the newborn creature to Michael. He opened his eyes sharply to banish it.
"They're already calling me their home," he whispered, pointing at the stake in his hand.
"Even Laurent is in there now. And they're especially pleased."
Flash squeezed his shoulder harder.
"We'll find a way to pull you out of this shit."
Ethan looked at Flash. The despair in his eyes was no longer alone.
"And if we don't?" he asked very quietly. "What if I… start changing for real and begin killing more than just vampires?"
Flash didn't answer right away. He simply stared at the black lines that now clearly showed on Ethan's neck, crawling toward his jaw.
"Then we'll deal with it when it happens," he said at last.
"But for now… you haven't turned into a vegetable yet."
Ethan nodded.
He pushed off the wall and took a step toward the table. His left hand had stopped obeying him again, the fingers clenched in spasms, then suddenly went limp on their own.
"I… I'm going to sit down," he said.
"Before the next attack starts…"
Flash watched him go. When Ethan disappeared into the bedroom, he swore quietly through his teeth and looked at the open "Container 47."
The blue vial still stood untouched.
Flash ran a hand over his face, leaving a bloody smear on his cheek from his wounded shoulder.
"God damn you, Ethan…" he whispered into the empty room.
"What the hell have you done…"
In the bedroom Ethan sat on the bed, pressed the black stake to his chest, and closed his eyes.
Flash stood motionless in the middle of the room. The empty gray vial still sat on the table, as if mocking him. He stared at it like it was a living thing that had just bitten Ethan.
"What the hell is that stuff…" he muttered through gritted teeth. Anger and fear mixed in his voice.
"It could be poison. Laurent kept it in a separate container, like the most dangerous thing he had. And this idiot just grabbed it and drank…"
He wiped his face again, smearing more blood and sweat. The wound on his shoulder had started bleeding again, but Flash didn't even notice.
Ethan had already gone back into the bedroom. The door closed softly, almost guiltily. The apartment fell quiet once more. Only Bruno's heavy breathing on the couch and Gideon's occasional snores in the armchair broke the silence.
Flash stood for a long time, staring at the closed bedroom door. Then he swore again, grabbed a chair, and set it right in front of the door.
He sat down facing the door, laid the pistol across his knees, and began to wait.
He didn't sleep all night.
He watched.
Every few minutes he stood up, walked to the door, cracked it open a couple of centimeters, and looked at Ethan. The guy lay on the bed curled on his side, clutching the black stake to his chest like a child clutching a teddy bear.
His breathing was steady, his face calm. No convulsions, no groans, no blood from the mouth.
Nothing.
Flash would return to the chair, sit down, and wait again.
At three in the morning he couldn't stand it. He walked to the table, picked up the empty gray vial, and held it to the lamplight. A thin film of thick liquid still clung to the bottom.
He sniffed it almost odorless. Then he carefully touched the residue with his finger, licked it, spat it out, and rinsed his mouth several times.
"Tasteless…" he muttered in surprise.
"Like water with a faint metallic note. No taste, no burning."
He set the vial back down and returned to his post.
At five in the morning Ethan shifted slightly in his sleep. Flash instantly stood and peeked into the room. The guy had simply rolled onto his other side, hugging the stake tighter.
The black lines on his neck were visible even in the half-light, but they weren't moving.
Nothing was happening.
Flash returned to the chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them again, the sky outside the window was beginning to turn gray.
He stood up, walked to the bedroom, and quietly stepped inside.
Flash stood by the bed for a long time, looking at him.
"So it was just a fake…" he whispered to himself.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaled wearily, and left the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.