He leaned over her and whispered, “Doona fash. I willna harm you.” He pressed a fingertip against the woman’s upper lip and gently prodded it up. Dainty white teeth. No fangs.

She must be human.

But what about Zack? He’d referred to people as “humans,” and he’d said something about the master ordering their deaths. He definitely sounded like a Malcontent. Had he attempted to use vampire mind control on this woman to force her to kill? But what vampire could cause the flashes of light and the blast of air that had thrown Connor forty feet through the air? What had burned the trees and scorched the earth? How had Marielle survived such an attack?

He straightened slowly. Roman was watching him curiously while Laszlo readied a tray of surgical instruments.

“Well?” Roman tugged on his gloves. “Is she a vampire?”

“Nay.” Connor took a deep breath. “I doona know what to make of her.”

“How dramatic.” Laszlo gave him an amused look as he set a stack of towels on a table close to the gurney. “She’s definitely female. She doesn’t have the scent of a shifter, so I think we can safely assume she’s human.”

“Ye doona think her blood smells a wee bit odd?” Connor asked. “ ’Tis verra rich.”

Laszlo tilted his head, sniffing. “True. I can’t quite detect her blood type, and I usually can.”

“Enough talk.” Roman marched up to the gurney. “Let’s take a look at her before she bleeds to death.” He whisked the bloody tartan away and tossed it on the floor.

“Nay!” Connor quickly pushed her onto her stomach and shot Roman an annoyed look. “I’ve already checked her for injuries.” With vampire speed, he nabbed a towel off the nearby table, flipped it open, and covered the woman’s rump. “ ’Tis only her back that needs tending.”