The reason that, when doing her job, Phaedra did not always kill them by taking their blood was simple, and it was this: the life of a person was in the blood. Blood flowed through the brain, and that held everything. A person's life was in their blood, waiting for the taking, all the details.
Sometimes, Phaedra didn't want to know those details.
This time she did.
With Lindsey, time went backward.
It started with her, with the bar, with things she already knew. With what Thomas told her, and that made her hang onto him tighter. But then it changed.
She could see him talking to Saerian, agreeing to distract her. Her eyes flew open. There was something that sounded a lot like a growl that came out of her, before the scene changed again.
He was somewhere else, it looked like maybe Tibet, and learning from someone who looked like a monk. He was holding a sword.
And then he wasn't holding anything. His hand was missing, Angel was standing over him. She could see the hallways at Wolfram and Hart-- a place she'd been a few times-- and actually, she could see herself there, briefly. She'd walked right by him once, apparently.
She could see Darla, feel her, even, watch her get sick once she was brought back.
Holland Manners, telling him to choose a side.
And behind all of that, a man yelling, and a little girl.
Phaedra let go with a gasp, wiping at her mouth and shaking her head.
She felt half on fire. Blood made her feel alive. But she was almost shaking with anger and emotion.