Forged in Ember

by Trish McCallan

  Mac scowled, frustration cinching the muscles of his chest like a straitjacket. He did a one-eighty and headed toward the cafeteria’s exit. The lack of progress on bringing to justice the men who’d murdered Admiral McKay and John Chastain—or, hell, even clearing his men’s names and proving their innocence against the laundry list of federal crimes riding their asses—was maddening. Almost as irritating as being shut out of the intel and preparations taking place in Shadow Mountain’s war room. He didn’t even know if Wolf’s command had located Dr. Ansell’s doomsday device or whether they were gearing up to retrieve the damn thing.

  It fucking blowed to be locked out of the loop like this.

  No doubt Zane, Cosky, and Rawls were handling this information blackout better than he was. After all, the three were bunking with their respective significant others—code for they were otherwise engaged and didn’t give a rat’s ass about the intel embargo.

  Why the hell that train of thought would give rise to Amy’s image was something he had no intention of examining too closely. So far, over the past week, he’d managed to avoid his redheaded albatross almost completely.

  As he closed on the cafeteria door, it slid open, revealing the dark heads of Amy’s children. Son of a bitch, the woman was like Beetlejuice. He just had to think of her, and boom—there she was. Except . . . the woman who followed the two boys through the sliding door wasn’t a short, athletic redhead. Rather, a soft-bodied, grandmotherly type with uncontrollable silver hair.

  He frowned, unease stirring as he stepped aside to let the trio pass. Amy Chastain was protective as fuck when it came to her boys. She wouldn’t pass them off to Marion Simcosky without a damn good reason.

  Not your circus. Let it go.

  Advice that might have taken hold if Benji hadn’t spotted him and charged forward.

  “I’m a dinosaur,” he shouted, stopping within inches of Mac and letting loose an enthusiastic roar.

  Mac stumbled back, narrowly avoiding a collision with the child.

  “See?” Benji extended his arm with another ear-splitting roar.

  Holy fuck, the kid could be used as a sonic weapon, crushing the eardrums of enemies far and wide.

  Tilting his head, Mac scanned the small limb presented to him. A Band-Aid in the shape of a T. rex shielded the inside of the boy’s elbow. “A T. rex, huh? They were pretty bada—fierce.”

  “Roar! I’m fierce too!”

  Mac winced. “You know that the T. rex was the most ferocious predator in the history of our planet?” He nodded sagely as Benji cocked his head, his face suddenly slack with fascination. “But what made them so dangerous was their silence. They’d sneak up on their prey in absolute stealth. Attack before anyone realized they were even there. Their silence is what made them so fierce.”

  Marion Simcosky snorted, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Nice try, Commander.” She turned to the older child. “Brendan, why don’t you take Benji to the counter and get him some of that pizza he’s been carrying on about. I need a word with Commander Mackenzie.”

  “But I’m talking to—”

  “You can talk to him after you’ve eaten, Benji. Now skedaddle.” She waited for Brendan to herd his brother across the cafeteria floor before turning a suddenly grave face in Mac’s direction. “The boys’ doctor asked to see Amy in private, and I suspect the news is less than good. Nobody should have to face something like that alone, but she needed help with the boys, so I couldn’t stay.”

  Ah hell . . . Stiffening, Mac took a step back. “Beth or Kait—”

  “Aren’t here. You are. The meeting with the doctor will be over by the time I find them. Amy needs someone now.”

  Mac took another step back. “I’m sure Mrs. Chastain would prefer to have a woman with her.”

  “The only woman available is me, and I promised her I’d take care of her children. Trust me, she’d be much more comfortable with me watching over her boys than holding her hand. Which means you’re currently the only person available to step up.” She leaned toward him, a militant look sheening her gaze.

  Fuck.

  “She’s at the clinic, Commander. Alone. She needs you.” The resolve shifted to entreaty in her eyes and voice.

  Double fuck.

  He spread his feet and tensed his muscles, powering up for an uncompromising refusal. No way in hell was he taking on Amy Chastain’s troubles.

  “Fine.” The surrender grated as it rumbled up his throat and out his mouth.

  Where the hell had that come from?

  Mac scowled, regrouping. Time to nip this in the bud and retreat to safety. “Look, I’ll check in on her. That’s all I’m promising.”

  He groaned beneath his breath. Agreeing to check up on the damn woman wasn’t exactly retreating.

  Marion’s expression softened in relief. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that, Commander.”

  Grunting an acknowledgment, Mac brushed past Marion before she talked him into doing anything else. Of course, just because he’d agreed to check on Amy didn’t mean he had to do so. It would be easy enough to skirt that duty by heading in the opposite direction. Except his feet developed a mind of their own and carried him two streets to the right and through the clinic’s sliding glass doors.

  Chapter Two

  AMY WAITED UNTIL the clinic doors had closed behind Marion and the boys before turning to the short, perky nurse behind the receptionists’ desk. “Dr. Zapa said she wanted to talk to me?”

  “That’s right, Mrs. Chastain.” The girl stepped around the counter. “If you’ll follow me, please.”

  Amy followed the woman down the carpeted hall and through the open door to Eve Zapa’s office.

  “If you’ll take a seat, Dr. Zapa will be with you shortly. Would you like some coffee? The pot’s fresh.”

  Amy swallowed hard, her stomach threatening to climb her throat, and shook her head. With a perfunctory smile, the nurse turned and disappeared through the door.

  She wandered toward one of the plush chairs facing the glass desk. Apart from the lighted X-ray reader next to the door, the walls were bare. The surface of the desk was just as sterile. Perhaps the overall austerity of the space fed into the atmosphere of desperation that choked the air. Or more likely it was her own emotions suffocating the small room.

  She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Enough with the pessimism. There was no reason to feel so defeated. It didn’t matter what Dr. Zapa had to say. She’d find a way to save her children. Anything short of a complete cure was unacceptable.

  “Ah, Mrs. Chastain. Please take a seat,” Eve Zapa said from behind her.

  Amy turned, watching as the slender, white-coated figure of her sons’ doctor glided into the room. As usual, Eve Zapa looked like she’d stepped out of the glossy pages of Vogue. Even the casual swing of her black hair, in its fashionable bob, looked exquisite and expensive.

  The good doctor would have been easy to dislike on general principle, if not for the compassion gleaming in her dark eyes and the obsessive commitment she’d shown to Benji’s and Brendan’s health.

  Eve made her way around the pristine glass desk. She placed a manila folder thick with reports and lab results on the glass surface between them, neatly seated herself, and folded her hands.

  “The healing didn’t work, did it?” Amy forced a matter-of-fact tone, but her legs went weak and wobbly. Fearing they might not support her, she sank into the chair across from the desk.

  When Western medicine had failed to neutralize the genetically modified biological isotope proliferating in her sons’ veins, she’d turned her hopes to alternative—even mystical—possibilities. Shadow Mountain had three strong metaphysical healers on its payroll.

  “No. It didn’t.” Eve’s dark, steady gaze shimmered with empathy. “There was no change to the cellular structure in their blood. The markers are still present. The isotope is still active.”

  Amy nodded, steadied her voice. “All three healers were there? Kait? One
Bird? William?”

  With a solemn nod, Eve shattered Amy’s final hope. “Yes, all three were present this time. The healing went as expected. It simply didn’t have an effect.”

  Disappointment swelled, wrestled with her hard-fought optimism. She’d held such high hopes that this healing would work. Kait’s talent alone was miraculous. By Rawls’s account, she’d brought both him and Faith back from the brink of death. But even with Cosky there to boost her healing ability, Kait’s attempt at removing the isotope from Benji’s and Brendan’s cells had failed. That’s when Dr. Zapa and Dr. Kerry had discussed the possibility of a combined healing—one utilizing all three healers’ talents at once.

  It had taken almost a week to arrange the ceremony. The Shadow Mountain healers, along with Cosky, had been gearing up to rescue Faith’s coworkers. They’d had to wait for the healers to return, and since the mission had incurred injuries, which had required healing, they’d had to wait several additional days for One Bird’s and William’s psychic energies to recharge.

  If Kait’s gift alone was of such biblical proportions it could bring the dead back to life, shouldn’t all three of them together be able to perform something even more miraculous?

  Apparently not.

  Amy squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Yes, this was a major disappointment. But there had to be other avenues to explore. Other things they could try.

  “So what’s next?”

  Eve looked down. It was a fleeting gesture, but Amy’s heart froze and then slammed into triple time. The fierce throb of her pulse flooded her ears. She knew what Eve was going to say before the other woman lifted her head or opened her mouth. That simple, instinctive response had told her everything.

  “I’m afraid we’ve run out of options. Our attempts to neutralize the isotope have failed.” She paused to sigh. “Let’s back up. How much do you know about cellular biology?”

  Fighting the panic fluttering in her belly, Amy shrugged. “Next to nothing.”

  “Then let me give you a quick rundown of how cells acquire energy. It will give you a better understanding of our problem.” She ran a hand through her sleek black hair. “Within each cell there are adenosine triphosphate molecules—or ATPs. These molecules are made up of three chemically bonded phosphate molecules. When the chemical bonds between the phosphate molecules break, a flash of energy is released. The cells use this energy to power their processes.”

  She paused to scowl and shake her head. “The isotope that was injected into your sons binds itself to the ATP molecule by mimicking the phosphate bonds. When the phosphate energy is released, the isotope siphons it off and uses it to power its signal. We still don’t understand how this signal is produced, but—” She broke off, frustration touching her face. “In any case, every attempt to disrupt the bond between the isotope and the ATP molecules has failed. Until we identify this compound and disrupt its bonding mechanism . . .” Her hands separated, going palms up in the universal gesture of helplessness.

  “And if you can’t identify it?” The muscles in Amy’s jaw tightened at Eve’s silence.

  It was time to explore other avenues, like how the compound had been delivered. Knowing who’d injected it would give her someone to hunt down, someone to demand answers from. “Do you know whether the isotype was delivered through a flu shot?”

  “It’s certainly possible. H3N2 antibodies were found in both boys’ blood. We found traces of thimerosal as well, which is a preservative found in flu vaccines—so there’s no question the boys were given a flu shot. What’s less clear is whether the biological agent was delivered through the vaccine or whether the timing of the two events is coincidental.”

  “The flu vaccine is the only injection the boys received.” Frowning in thought, Amy settled back into the armchair across from the gleaming desk. “Could the compound have been delivered in a different manner? Through food or drink? Or through the skin, like shampoo? Soap?”

  Both scenarios meant someone close to them would have had to slip the isotope into their food or personal hygiene products. She shied away from the implications of that thought. The only people with such access to the boys were her mom, her dad, and Clay.

  No. Her parents and brother were not behind this.

  They couldn’t be.

  Dr. Zapa shook her head. “My best guess would be that it was delivered through the flu vaccination. If the compound had been taken orally, stomach enzymes and acids would have neutralized it. As for absorption through the skin, the components of the isotope are too large to allow for transdermal absorption. It had to have been administered via injection.”

  If the compound had been delivered through the flu shot, then the doctor who’d administered the vaccine would know where it had come from. Which gave her a place to start.

  With a deep, calming breath, Amy refocused. “If this biological agent is siphoning off the cells’ energy, what will happen to the cells? How long will they continue to function normally?”

  “We don’t know.” Eve’s dark eyes softened. “As of now the boys’ cells appear to be receiving enough energy from the ATP molecules to continue their normal cellular processes.” She shifted uneasily in her chair, her lab coat rasping slightly against the cloth upholstery. “How long this can continue is an open question. It would be wise to restrict their activity. The less energy they burn, the less stress on the individual cells. We’ll need to monitor them closely, but until we know what we’re dealing with, that’s about all we can do.”

  “Restrict their activity . . .” Amy echoed wryly, her stomach constricting. “Have you met Benji?”

  But some of the ache in her tight chest eased. The news could have been worse. Much worse. While the danger was still present, Benji’s and Brendan’s cells hadn’t started deteriorating yet. She just had to find a way to neutralize the compound before they did. Clay was the logical place to start since he’d brought in the doctor who’d injected the flu vaccine.

  Commander Mackenzie’s darkly handsome face flashed through her mind. Mac was certain that Clay had been instrumental in shooting her boys full of that damn compound, and he wasn’t shy about bombarding her with his suspicions. His belief that her brother was involved with the NRO meant the commander would step up and accompany her when she confronted her brother—whether she wanted him to or not.

  Mackenzie was a pit bull when something mattered to him, and finding a conduit to Eric Manheim, one of the men responsible for setting up Mac and his buddies, as well as for killing his friend Rear Admiral McKay, was of vital importance to him.

  She wanted to see Manheim pay as well. Not only was the NRO directly responsible for injecting her children with a life-threatening isotope, but they’d also taken the life of the man she’d loved—the father of her children.

  That earlier splinter of pain sharpened, but not as much as she’d expected. Although it had been only five months, John’s death already felt like a lifetime ago. With a careful breath, she pushed the residual pain aside and focused on the mission at hand.

  Mac’s certainty that Clay was involved made him the perfect partner. He’d back her play because confronting Clay would benefit him as much as her.

  She frowned, remembering the menacing byplay between the two men back when they’d picked up Benji and Brendan. While she preferred Mac’s in-your-face confrontational style to Clay’s sneering and mental games, Mac was an expert at escalating tense situations. And God knows her brother was already feeling defensive and unappreciated.

  What a fun meeting this was going to be. Clay could be a stuffy, pretentious ass when his back was up, and Mac would make sure his back was up. Still, it had to be done. She needed to find the doctor who’d injected her boys.

  Benji’s and Brendan’s lives depended on it.

  Mac swore beneath his breath as he headed across the clinic lobby. It wouldn’t hurt to offer support, which she’d turn down, thereby alleviating him of this unwelcome chore. With that in mind, he appro
ached the reception desk only to stop short when Amy suddenly appeared in the doorway. Her pace faltered when she saw him but quickly picked up tempo again.

  He studied her tight face, which was a chiseled mask of resolve. Whatever news the doctor had imparted hadn’t skewered her. Rather, it had forged a spine of steel. Admiration stirred. Hands down, she was the strongest woman he’d ever known.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, stopping in front of him.

  Mac shrugged. “Marion was worried about you. Didn’t want you to be alone. What did the doc have to say?”

  She frowned slightly, scanned his face, and then rolled her shoulders before squaring them again. “The last healing didn’t work.”

  He caught the barest hint of a waver at the beginning of the sentence, which indicated that she’d pinned a hell of a lot of hope on the outcome of that healing. An insane urge hit—to lean forward and drag her into his arms, to offer her the comfort she so clearly needed. Before he had a chance to act on the horrifying impulse, her voice firmed. She stepped back, retreating into her habitual mask of capability.

  Thank Christ.

  “With Kait?” He fought to keep an even tone and his hands to himself.

  He still found it damn near impossible to believe that Kait Winchester had healed the double tap to Rawls’s chest and dragged him back from the dead. Sure, he’d witnessed the miracle with his own eyes, but he still had trouble wrapping his brain around it.

  Metaphysical healing? Hands-on healing? No shit?

  Even now, a voice deep inside him insisted that he’d misinterpreted what he’d seen or that Kait had somehow tricked them. A Penn and Teller performance, if you will. Although how in the hell she’d managed that and then continued to fool the Shadow Mountain brass . . .

  “Kait, William, and One Bird,” Amy corrected, her voice so steady it sounded wooden. “Their three strongest healers. But it didn’t work. The compound is still active.”