Page 55 of The Unraveling

I can’t fill my lungs enough to speak, unable to even blink my gathering tears away as he enters anyway. Dr. Smith shifts aside with a sigh, running his hands through his messy hair as he glances toward the chatter downstairs then back at me.

“My name is Raoul,” he says as he moves through the shadows of my room to reach my curtains, drawing them open to invite moonlight in. Raoul studies the garden below for a beat before turning and slowly approaching my bed. He pauses a few feet away and crouches down to my eye level, moonlight glistening against his hair. “I want to extend my sincerest apologies for the loss of your friends, Daisy . . . I overheard you asking John to convince us to keep them. That’s unnecessary. We just need a bit of tissue and blood. You can bury them.”

I don’t know how I still have the tears to sob, but I do. They have me gasping thanks as I struggle to sit, so he extends an ice-cold hand to help bring me upright against the headboard.

“You can take Julian with Bradley,” Dr. Smith offers from the other side of my bed, standing with his back straight next to my white dresser. “He planned on donating his body to science before I offered to turn him.”

“That’s generous. We appreciate it.” Raoul gives him a single nod as thanks and evenly calls something out in a language I can’t understand, receiving a response I can barely hear from someone downstairs. Then, he stands and motions to the edge of my bed and asks, “Can I sit?”

I swallow and nod, merely grateful they aren’t taking Isla and Dr. Todd away to dissect and prod.

The edge of my mattress lowers with his weight. His dark eyes capture mine, and I can feel his stare to my marrow. So deep I can’t look away.

“Can you tell me what happened to Isla and Victor?” he asks.

I automatically recount everything I told both Dr. Smith and Isla earlier when they asked, as thoroughly as I can.

Raoul’s gaze remains locked on mine. “Victor put Bradley’s heart in the freezer—we have that—but I’m curious if he took extra blood samples and tucked them away somewhere in the house for safekeeping? Do you know?”

My answer comes as if he scoops it from my thoughts before I even make the conscious choice to give it to him. “Not that I know of. They were doing tests in his study. They stopped touching samples when ordered to. Why?”

His attention trails to my bedside table, and he gently plucks the black ornate frame from the wooden top, studying the image of Isla and me in the garden. “Historically, blood like Bradley’s has been used as a weapon. I’m sure you can imagine why.” He sets the frame back and looks at Dr. Smith. “Vampires with his ability are so rare that they have been hunted and harvested. We don’t permit anyone to keep cure blood. King Viorel requires all of it in his possession.”

“It didn’t even cross my mind to cork and hide it,” Dr. Smith says, lifting his palms defensively.

“That’s good, John.” His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “What’s the nature of yours and Victor’s research, anyway? I glimpsed quite the meticulously organized collection of notebooks in the study.”

Dr. Smith shifts his weight between his feet and crosses his arms as he leans back against my dresser. “It’s mostly data collection and searching for significant patterns.”

Raoul’s brows twitch. “Of?”

“How our blood interacts with the blood of terminal patients before transition. We tracked all the pertinent data relating to their human and vampire conditions. Doses, side effects, and outcomes. Tinkered with variables over the years⁠—”

“Give me examples of what you were looking for,” Raoul says, a friendly curve to his smile.

Dr. Smith studies Raoul’s face like he believes there’s an ulterior motive for his questions. Like he might be wanting to see if Dr. Smith will reveal something damning.

“We wanted to know the nature of vampire abilities. If they were truly random, the possible degree of inheritability, or if there was a certain predictability to them. We also wanted to know if we could pinpoint a standard minimum of requirements necessary for a terminal human to survive the transformation, and what factors influenced survival or death.” Dr. Smith rushes to add, “We were strictly ethical, of course. As I said, it was mostly data collection and analysis. We track our patients long term, including their subsequent fledglings as well. We weren’t trying to manipulate for specific outcomes beyond attempts to optimize survivability for terminal patients.”

Raoul ponders him for a long moment, then simply says, “Okay, we’ll take all available data.”

My gaze snaps to the doorway, as if I might be able to see them carting off Dr. Todd’s life’s work at this very moment.

Dr. Smith gawks at him. “For what purpose?”

Raoul says, “To store in the castle’s archives. Believe it or not, there’s not a whole lot of record keeping happening in the vampire world.”

He stares at Raoul for a beat before closing his eyes and exhaling. As he opens them, his exhaustion is vivid as he says, “If you want complete data sets, the other half of the records are at my cabin. I’ll give you the address before you leave.” Dryly, he adds, “Just don’t tear the place apart when you’re rooting through everything for non-existent incriminating evidence, please.”

Raoul mulls him over, the corner of his lip quirking. “Noted. Thank you.”

“Am I able to secure copies, at least?”

Raoul nods. “The archivists will make copies when they read through everything.”

“During the search for incriminating evidence, I assume?” Dr. Smith says bluntly.

“Yes. We, of course, want to ensure there isn’t any.”