Anders frowned and turned to Valerie to say, “But you saw Cindy in that other clinic we went to. Why would she go to both places?”
“She probably took her cat to the teaching hospital for an operation, spaying or neutering, or something,” Valerie said grimly. “The biggest benefit of the clinic is that they don’t charge as much for procedures like that. That’s how they encourage people to bring their animals in. But for long-term care; yearly shots, flea pills, et cetera, she would need a regular vet.” Valerie paused briefly, then glanced to Mortimer and shook her head. “I didn’t see him at the teaching hospital. I was speaking to a woman, not Ambrose.”
“He listened in. Caught part of it and got the rest of the info he was seeking from your interviewer. Apparently you told her that you have a clinic in Winnipeg and were just here temporarily?”
“Yes.” She nodded and then grimaced. “I did tell her I have no family or friends here so I could work extra hours if they wanted.”
“So . . . his name is Ambrose what?” Anders asked. “And just who the hell is he?”
“Just Ambrose,” Mortimer said with a shrug. “He doesn’t remember any more than that from his life as a mortal. And it may be his last name. He says it was on a name tag on his uniform.”
“Uniform?” Anders asked with a frown.
“He was a soldier in World War I,” Bricker explained. “He says his first memory is waking up in the middle of a battlefield; bombs going off everywhere, dead bodies all around him and some German fellow half blown up and lying across him, bleeding all over him.”
“Ah hell,” Anders muttered.
“What?” Valerie asked.
Rather than answer her, Anders arched an eyebrow at Mortimer. “An accidental turn?”
Mortimer nodded. “That’s what we’re thinking. He says he remembers pushing the German soldier off him and staggering to his feet. His head hurt, he felt it and it was soft and mushy, either half caved in or blown away. He felt dizzy and pain was gnawing at his head and gut. He passed out and when he woke up he was sucking on another soldier’s open wound and feeling much better. The more blood he had, the better he felt and then the wound seemed to heal itself. He realized he was a vampire and has been living as one ever since, using whatever he could find on the subject as his guide.”
“Which would be ridiculous fantasies like Dracula and such,” Bricker pointed out with distaste.
Anders’s mouth twisted, but he asked, “And he never got his memory back of his life before waking up on the battlefield?”
Mortimer shook his head. “He says not.”
“Is that even possible?” Valerie asked. “I thought the nanos repaired things.”
“They do, and they obviously repaired the physical damage done, but if the head wound was bad enough . . .” He pursed his lips. “The nanos may not have been able to recover the memories from the destroyed brain matter.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Anders said thoughtfully, and then sighed and shrugged the matter away.
“Wait . . .” Valerie said with a frown. “I get that the nanos repaired him, but I’m not sure I understand how you think the nanos got there in the first place.” She glanced from one man to the other and asked uncertainly, “Are you thinking that the soldier who was bleeding on him was an immortal and that the nanos were passed to him that way? That they got into his wounds and just . . . took hold like a virus or something?”
“Into his wounds, maybe his mouth. But yes, that’s probably what happened,” Mortimer said.
“Does this happen a lot?” she asked with amazement.
“I’ve only heard of one other incident like it,” Bricker said and raised his eyebrows as he glanced to the others.
“Elvi’s the only one I know of too,” Mortimer said at once.
“Same here,” Anders agreed. “But it doesn’t mean there aren’t more out there like him.”
“Who’s Elvi?” Valerie asked curiously.
“She’s Victor’s life mate,” Anders said, and then added, “Victor is Lucian’s brother.”
“And she was accidentally turned?” Valerie asked, fascinated.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later,” Anders said quietly.
When Valerie nodded, he glanced to the men and said, “So he woke up in the middle of a war zone, a vampire with no memory of his past, and managed to survive unnoticed for almost a hundred years?”
“It would seem so,” Mortimer agreed and shook his head. “He’s one lucky son of a bitch to have escaped our notice all this time.”