A thousand questions slammed through her head. What was happening? Where was Jorick? Where was Loren or Micah or Oren?
Verchiel picked through them and chose which ones to answer. "The guy with the tattoos is fine, and the other one will live for now. Injuries are not life threatening to vampires, only troublesome."
"His arm?" she murmured weakly.
"I'm afraid he's lost that. Vampirism only heals so much."
The lights in the corridors still worked. The atrium's main entrance glowed like a beacon of safety in a sea of blackness. As they drew closer she could see the remnants of the glass doors; chrome strips and a handful of shards.
She and Verchiel carefully picked their way around the bodies that lay scattered and broken. She could see their twisted faces, lit by the corridor's eerie
