Taran sobs her relief in my arms, shaking from the release of terror she'd felt after Emery was bitten. I sheath my knife, relatively certain the danger has passed, and hold her tight against me. Emery has fallen asleep, her face set in exhausted lines. The poor woman had been on the razor's edge of turning into a zombie.

I've never seen anything like this procedure. Well, that's not entirely true. I've seen crude blood transfusions during times of battle. I've never seen ...