The vampire raised his hands in surrender. "You da man. I don't mess with no brother with a three-foot blade."
While Angus pointed his claymore at the black vampire's heart, Emma rushed to the injured woman. "She's dying. We have to help her."
"I've called Connor mentally. He should be here—" Angus stopped when Connor appeared beside him.
Connor quickly surveyed the scene. His eyes flashed with anger when he saw the injured woman. He glowered at the black vampire. "Ye bastard, I should throttle you."
"I didn't do it!" the black vampire shouted. "I know, I know, I always tell the po-po I didn't do it, but this time I really mean it. I didn't get a drop out of her. I'm still starving."
He glanced at Emma with a speculative look.
She glared back. "Don't even think about it."
"Connor, can ye take the woman to Romatech?" Angus asked. "Roman can save her. Then ye can remove her memory and take her home."
"Will do." Connor gathered the woman in his arms, then vanished.
"Where's everybody going?" the black vampire asked.
"Who are you?" Angus stepped toward him.
He backed up. "I'll be a damned shish kebab if you come any closer with that super-sized switchblade. I've already died once this week, and I don't want to go through that again."
"Ye were transformed this last week?"
"Yeah. That psycho Russian dude did it to me. I was minding my own business, and business was good, if you know what I mean. I had a fine reputation. I had it going on.
Then that son of a bitch Alek came along—"
"You were selling drugs?" Emma moved toward him.
"Now, ain't that just the way?" The black vampire frowned at her. "Just because I'm a brother, you assume I'm trafficking."
"Were you?" she asked.
He shrugged. "A man's gotta make a living. Look, girlfriend, I ain't got nothing against you, but I'm starvin', and you're smelling really sweet."
"Touch her and ye die," Angus growled.
"Whoa, bro." He lifted both hands in surrender. "I didn't realize you were, uh, interested in those of a female persuasion, what with that skirt you're wearing and—"
"Enough." Angus slid his claymore back into its sheath. "Drink this." He opened his sporran and removed his flask.
"Nice purse," the black vampire muttered. "I know a guy who can get you a designer one real cheap."
Angus gritted his teeth. "'Tis no' a purse!"
"Whatever you say, man." The black vampire accepted the flask. "This ain't no poison, is it? You know, that's why those bastards killed me. They're making some kind of vampire poison."
"'Tis safe. Drink," Angus ordered.
"Vampire poison?" Emma asked.
"Nightshade," Angus muttered.
"Yeah, that's what they called it." The vampire sniffed at the contents of the flask.
"Whoa! This smells good. What is this shit?"
"Blissky. A mixture of synthetic blood and Scotch whisky."
Ah. Now Emma understood why she'd smelled whisky on Angus's breath that first night. She waited for the black vampire to finish his drink.
And waited. She glanced at Angus.
His mouth twitched. "Apparently, our guest is verra hungry."
"Oo-wee!" The black vampire wiped his mouth. "That's some good shit." He upended the flask again, but it was empty. "You got any more of this?"
"We have dozens of bottles at home," Angus answered. "And we can get more whenever we like."
"No shit? You know, those damned Russians don't have anything to eat at their house.
They go out every freaking night to attack people. I told them they should be attacking the local blood bank, you know, and storing up some snacks at their crib, but would they listen to me? No."
"You doona wish to harm people?"
"Hell, no. I ain't no killer." He winked at Emma. "I'm more of a lover, you understand."
"You're not exactly a law-abiding citizen," Emma reminded him.
"I gotta make a living. I–I have people depending on me."
"What is yer name?" Angus asked.
"Phineas McKinney."
"McKinney?"
Phineas shrugged. "The brothers used to call me Master Phin." He raised his chin defiantly. "Now I wish to be called Dr. Phang."
Angus arched a brow.
Emma dropped her stake back into her bag. "Why would the Russians transform you?"