"What?" Brynley stared at Phil. "You never told your friends about me? I'm your twin, dammit!"
"Twin?" Vanda gazed at her, then at Phil. "You hypocrite! Always hounding me to tell you about my past, and you don't even tell me you have a twin?"
Phil shifted his weight and glanced back and forth between the two women. "I–I'm bleeding, you know. I thought you might want to patch me up?"
Brynley crossed her arms. "Patch yourself up."
"Fine." Phil stalked into the kitchen area.
Vanda suppressed a laugh. "Good for you."
Brynley's mouth twitched. "Thanks."
Vanda's smile quickly faded when Phil removed his shirt. Cuts and slashes marked his chest and torso. "Oh no." She ran toward him.
"Damn, Phil." Brynley rushed to the kitchen sink and worked the old-fashioned pump. "Clean towels in the drawer there." She motioned with her head.
Vanda set her whip on the counter, then took a towel from a drawer and handed another one to Brynley. Water spewed from the pump, and she dampened her towel.
Phil winced as she cleaned the blood off his chest.
"How did this happen?" Brynley dabbed at a bad slice on the side of his torso.
He lifted his arm to look at the wound. "A war has started between the Vamps and the Malcontents, or you could say the good vampires and the bad ones."
Brynley snorted. "Since when are there good vampires?" She glanced at Vanda. "No offense."
Vanda ignored her. She was too upset at seeing Phil's beautiful skin all cut up. Too upset that her own sister could have caused one of the wounds. "Phil, you can't do this again. Vampires are too fast and strong for mortals like you. It's a wonder they didn't kill you."
"Mortals?" Brynley narrowed her eyes.
"Are there any bandages here?" Phil asked. "I need to get back to business."
"What business?" Brynley opened a cabinet and pulled out a box of Band-Aids in assorted sizes. She handed a few to Vanda.
"Urgent business." Phil pulled the cell phone from his pocket. "Like I said, we're at war."
"The vampires are at war," Brynley corrected him. "It has nothing to do with you."
Vanda stiffened. "Phil is a very important member of our society. We couldn't manage without him." She stuck a Band-Aid over one of his cuts.
"Enough." He stepped back and punched a number on his phone.
"But you still have cuts," Vanda protested. "And that long one on your side might need stitches."
"It's nothing." His eyes glistened with moisture. "This is nothing. I saw a lot worse."
Vanda's skin chilled. Had one of their friends died? "What? Who?"
"Dougal." Phil grimaced. "His hand was cut off."
Vanda gasped. "But—But they can sew it back on, right? It'll heal during his death-sleep."
Phil shook his head. "It was completely sliced off. It turned to dust."
Vanda doubled over as nausea slammed into her stomach.
Brynley touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry. He's a good friend?"
Vanda took deep breaths. "I've known him a long time." He'd been a guard at Roman's townhouse for over thirty years, always shy and quiet, except when he was playing the bagpipes. Now, he'd never be able to play again.
"Howard?" Phil spoke into his phone. "Have you heard what happened?"
Phil launched into a description of the events in New Orleans. Vanda could tell his sister was listening carefully, for she gasped at all the appropriate moments.
For the first time, Vanda had a chance to check out the cabin. It consisted of log walls and a stone fireplace like Howard's cabin, but it was smaller and more primitive.
The water over the kitchen sink had to be pumped. There was no refrigerator, just a big ice chest. As far as she could tell, there was no electricity at all. A fire and a few oil lamps illuminated the room. A tank of propane gas was hooked up to a stovetop. No curtains at the windows. No rugs on the wide-planked wooden floor. No staircase. A wooden ladder led to the loft.
"Where are we?" she asked quietly.
"Wyoming," Brynley answered. "This is Phil's cabin."
"I didn't know he had a cabin."
"Yeah. Well, there's a lot you don't know about him." She frowned at Phil. "But I guess the same goes for me. I had no idea he was involved with vampires."
"He's a day guard," Vanda explained. "We're vulnerable during the day when we're in our death-sleep."