This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)

Chapter Six
Don sat on the bed, an oxygen mask lying on the table next to him. From the faint lines around his face, he’d had it on before we came in. I
would’ve told him to keep using it, but of course, that logic would only fall on deaf ears. I shut the door behind the six of us and then proceeded to
outline the situation with the ghouls as we knew it.
“As I told Cat, we need a person on the inside,” Don stated once I was finished. “It’s important enough that I’m asking you, Dave, to take an
extended leave from the team to infiltrate these zealots. Our country has enough problems as it is with human terrorists. We can’t afford to let
undead ones grow in power. The results could be catastrophic.”
Dave ran a hand through his hair. “Fuckin’ right. I’ll do it.”
I knew that would be his answer. Dave had never backed down from a dangerous assignment. Not even after he’d been killed on one.
Satisfaction flitted across my subconscious for an instant before it was gone. I cast a glance at Bones just in time to catch his faint smile before
it, too, disappeared. Then realization hit me.
He’d intended this all along. Bones knew what Don would do if we told him about the ghouls, and he also knew I’d have balked if he’d been the
one to suggest that Dave be the undercover operative. Hell, I already didn’t like using Scratch and Ed as bait, and we’d just met them.
No wonder he’d been so keen on coming here when I broached the subject of dropping in on my uncle. I’d wanted to wait until tomorrow, but
Bones said we should go at once. I’d just thought it was because he wanted to be back in Ohio quickly if Scratch and Ed happened to run into those
ghouls tonight, but he’d had another plan altogether.
“You and I are having a talk later,” I told him in a low, measured voice.
A dark brow arched, but Bones didn’t pretend ignorance as to what the topic would be.
“Why are you the focal point of this ghoul’s rhetoric again, Cat?” Tate asked, his indigo gaze flicking between me and Bones. “I thought
Apollyon’s paranoia with you ended when you became a full vampire.”
I shifted, uncomfortable. This was a subject I’d hoped to avoid, but if Dave was risking his life and my old team was handicapped by losing one of
its members on an extended assignment, they deserved to know.
“Okay, so I have kind of an eating disorder . . .” I began before laying out the details of my unusual diet and its subsequent side effects.
Silence descended on the room. My uncle looked too shocked to even cough while the rest of the guys stared at me with varying degrees of
astonishment.
“You eat vampires and absorb their powers?” Juan blurted. “Madre de Dios!”
“And I thought you won the freak award as a half-breed, Commander,” Cooper murmured. Then he shot a look at Bones. “Though I guess he
keeps you well fed.”
Dave slowly shook his head. “You always had to do things different, Cat. Guess this shouldn’t be the exception.”
Tate still hadn’t spoken, but his gaze raked me. “Looks like we’re not the only ones who kept secrets,” he said at last.
“That’s not even the same,” I replied sharply.
“Of course not,” he said in a tone that screamed bullshit.
“We’ve been keeping what causes my abilities under wraps because we didn’t want to give Apollyon another tool to incite paranoia with,” I said
in exasperation. “Under normal circumstances, I don’t think anyone would care that I feed from undead blood versus human, but clearly some ghouls
aren’t thinking normally now. Why add fuel to that fire?”
Silence met this question, but it was more rhetorical than anything I expected an answer on.
“Now that we all know the plan, Bones and I are heading out,” I went on. “We need to get back in case our vampire spies call, not to mention I left
my cat in a cave with only a ghost to watch over him.”
“We can’t leave yet,” Bones stated.
I gave him a cagey look. What else did he have up his sleeve? “Why?”
His mouth curled. “Because you’re still hungry, Kitten.”
Oh, right. In the midst of everything that had happened the past couple hours, I’d forgotten about that. I cleared my throat, awkwardness setting in.
What was the proper etiquette for asking a friend if I could drink his blood?
“Um, Juan, would you be willing to—”