“You’re exaggerating,” Nial said, sounding tired all of a sudden. “A few buildings, some casualties, yes. The Pyrrhus is not a nuclear warhead.”
“It’s worse,” Marcus said stiffly. “You would have to use a thousand metric tons of the stuff to destroy all the Summanus. You know what enough of it does to the earth, Nial?”
Nial just stared at him. He didn’t just look tired, Garrett decided. He looked haggard.
“It eats away everything,” Marcus said harshly. “In a nuclear winter, things still grow. They might grow three arms and glow in the dark, but they grow. Pyrrhus will kill everything. No seeds. Not mold, not even fungus to eat. No stone to build shelters. It will poison the water. Then, it gets worse.”
Garrett realized his own heart was racing, now. The picture Marcus was painting was horrible.
“Pyrrhus is an explosive and highly inflammable. The first time there is a lightning strike that hits the earth, it will burn.” Marcus grimaced. “The very ground itself will rise up in flame. If anyone survives long enough to see it, they will see the world burn in bright red fire. It will be the prettiest fireworks anyone has ever seen. It will also be the last.”
Nial pinched the skin over the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying we use it. We need it as a deterrent against the Summanus. They will hesitate to attack us if they know we have it.”
“No, they won’t,” Marcus said shortly. “They might hold off a day or two, but when they’re hungry enough, they’ll attack and then they’ll be desperate, into the bargain. You’re betting against their survival instincts and you’re wrong.” He lifted his hand, bringing Ilaria’s with it. He tucked her arm under his. “I will not make more Pyrrhus. Don’t ask me again.”
He turned and headed for the door. Garrett stepped out of his way and let him pass.
Nial hung his head. He took in another deep breath and let it out.
“Still think it’s worth it, Nial?” Dante asked softly.
“Yes. You know why I do.” Nial straightened up. “Marcus is thinking in black and whites. In absolutes. He reasons that if we have the Pyrrhus, then it must be used and its use will bring ruin upon us all. It’s not his fault he’s thinking that way. He’s still in shock.”
“You really think it will make that much difference?” Dante asked.
Nial sighed again. “I’m hedging my bets,” he said softly. “If we have it, we don’t have to use it. I would prefer not to. If we don’t have it and need it, we’re screwed.” He looked at Dante. There was bitterness in his eyes. “You’re a game player, Dante. How would you play this?”
Dante pushed himself off the wall, letting his arms drop. “As your lab technician just refused to play, most people would say the game is over.”
Nial’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t say that?”
Dante shrugged. “It seems to me that all the skill needed to make the stuff went into inventing the recipe in the first place. It’s like the drug industry. The second and third and thirty thousandth pill costs pennies to make. It’s the first pill that needs millions of dollars to produce.”
“Rory,” Nial said flatly.
“Basic lab skills. Every scientist has them.”
Sebastian shook his head. “No one knows how to make it. Marcus kept it to himself.”
“Betcha he didn’t,” Dante said, sounding pleased with himself.
“He was paranoid. His lab was hidden in the basement. It was disguised,” Garrett said.
Dante whirled to look at him. He shook his head. “He’s a trained lab rat. Rory has told me enough about scientists for me to know that when he thought he had the formula nailed, he would have made sure the credit would be his.”
Sebastian frowned. Nial merely looked thoughtful.
Garrett already knew the answer because he had dealt with the US Patents Office more than once or twice. “He patented it,” he breathed.
“Which requires a full disclosure in order to be issued,” Dante finished.
Nial looked at Garrett. “Think you could dig it up?”
“If he did patent it, I’ll find it,” Garrett said.
“He’ll have used a false name, to hide his tracks from the FBI and he probably didn’t call it Pyrrhus in the application,” Nial said.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sebastian asked Nial. “You’re going behind Marcus’ back, against his express wishes. He’s not wrong about how dangerous this is.”
“It’s dangerous just stepping out the door,” Nial said flatly. “Don’t ask me to stop. Not now.” He looked at Sebastian and Garrett’s gut squeezed. There was a look in Nial’s eyes that he’d never seen before. Half of it was open, profound love.
The other half was desperation.
* * * * *
The child wouldn’t settle down, even when Winter crouched down beside the temporary pallet she was resting on and placed her hands on the girl’s shoulder.
Kate winced. This close, the girl’s screaming had a note of agony that was hard to listen to.
“One of her wounds?” Kate asked, lifting her voice.
“They’re healing,” Winter said, sounding worried. “I don’t know what this is about.”
Kate watched the girl squirm on the pallet, trying to recall everything she had heard about the Elah and their ways. The girl’s long, delicate fingers were clutching at the blanket beneath her. No, not clutching. It was more of a digging motion, as if she was trying to scrape up the surface of the chenille.
Kate felt her lips part in surprise. “I think I know what she wants,” she said. “Let me at her.”
Winter looked at her, puzzled. “I can’t. I’m trying to calm her.”
“I can do that,” Kate said. “You wanna move out of the way?”
Winter frowned, considering her. Then she let go of the child and got up from her crouch and stepped away from the pallet.
Kate bent over the wriggly, writhing little girl and scooped her up. “Man, she weighs more than I thought she would.” She had to grip her hard to keep her in her arms. “Shhh.” she breathed. “We’re going to fix it for you, sweetheart.” She headed for the corridor and hurried along it. Nial and the others were still in the big office, although they were talking with softer voices now. Garrett was there and would tell her what happened, later.
For now, Kate had to deal with this more urgent need. She strode across the big living room. Rory was sitting on one of the ottomans, staring down at her laptop. She lifted her chin to watch Kate go by, although her beautiful blue eyes were unfocused, as if her thoughts were a million miles away. Her mouth was pulled into a hard little pout.
Someone was on her shit list, Kate theorized. She got a better grip on the child and kept moving, through the kitchen where Efraim was sitting at the table as usual, guarding the door, down the three steps into the conservatory.
The air in here was warm and thick, from the sun beating down on the glass, even though every moveable pane on the structure was open. It was stifling. The scent of growing things and rich, damp soil was strong.
The girl’s squirming slackened.
“What are you doing?” Winter asked softly, behind Kate.
“It’s a theory,” Kate said. “Let me see if I’m right.” She moved around the curving path, her shoes crunching leaf litter and dirt, the big leaves of the palms brushing over her shoulders. They drifted over the child, too. She didn’t react. She was almost still in her arms, now.
Kate moved over to where the sun loungers were parked. She had to ease around the sides of them because the wider corridor in between them was littered with empty water bottles.
At the back of the loungers, there was a section of the conservatory that had no floor. The palms and ferns here were planted directly into the soil, instead of living in big tubs and pots. Kate eased down onto her knees with awkward movements, for the girl was a completely limp, uncooperative bundle. Once she was on her knees, she eased the girl down onto the soil beneath a big palm leaf. It
was shady under the leaf and the damp soil felt cool.
The girl rested on the soil for a moment. Her eyes were closed. She may have been sleeping, if the Elah did sleep at all. Then she turned on her side. Her legs drew up toward her chest and her arms hunched in beneath her knees. Her head tucked in, too, until she was a tightly rolled coil lying on the dirt. The circular shape her body was in made Kate think of the whorls of emerging fern leaves.
“They sleep in dirt?” Winter whispered.
Kate shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Marcus told us all those stories about Dai Chi, when he went to Russia to talk to him,” Winter said. “They were living among the trees, there.”
“I remembered what Roman said about them, from ancient times. That they are of the trees and the earth. That they were the inspiration for stories about wood elves. I don’t know if they sleep in the dirt, still. Maybe they draw strength from it.”
“And when they’re wounded or sick, they turn back to it,” Winter finished. She looked at Kate, admiration in her face. “I wouldn’t have thought of it.”
“You don’t live with the world’s only expert on the Blood Stone,” Kate told her. She sat back, resting against the back of the lounger and let out a heavy breath, looking at the silent, still girl curled up on the soil. “We are living in strange days, aren’t we?”
“And then some,” Winter agreed.
* * * * *
Sasha drifted from sleep to wakefulness, lulled by a pleasant rocking sensation. It felt very much like being in a bunk on a small ship, which he remembered from his military training. While going anywhere near the edges of the tiny boat had filled him with trepidation, he had not suffered from violent sea-sickness the way many of the others in his unit had. Going to sleep lulled by the motion of the waves was the only positive aspect of his week aboard the ship.
Around two pm that afternoon, Dante had pushed Sasha toward the stairs. Jet lag had finally caught up with him and Sasha could barely keep his eyes open. He had stumbled up the stairs and found his way to the bedroom that he had barely used. It hadn’t felt right to use Dante’s while he was not there.
He had fallen onto the bed, barely remembering to remove his shoes and had passed out within three breaths.
Now he was properly awake, Sasha kept still with his eyes closed, trying to ascertain as much about his surroundings as possible before letting any potential observers know he was awake.
Something was not right. He knew he was no longer in his room. There was a tiny movement of air over his exposed face and shoulder that suggested he was outside. Also, his shoulder was bare and as far as he could tell, the rest of him was, too. There was a sheet covering him and if he was outside, that was a good thing.
Yet this felt like the bed he had fallen onto. The pillow was the same as the one he had used two nights ago. How could that be?
There was no sound around him, except for an odd watery, sucking noise that again reminded him of his single experience with boats. Nothing moved. No one coughed or made a sound that would let him locate them.
Silence…except for crickets and lapping water.
It was the smell that finally stirred him to action. It took a moment for him to recognize it.
Chlorine.
With a gasp, he sat up in the bed, then gripped the edge of the mattress as his motion made the bed yaw wildly. It was quite dark. Not even the moon was up, yet…or it was so late the moon had sunk already.
At his movement, the outside security lights switched on, bathing the swimming pool and the bricks around it in harsh, unforgiving beams of white, stark light, from four different directions, which eliminated all shadows and left Sasha in absolutely no doubt about his location.
Sometime while he had slept, someone had moved the bed upon which he was sleeping onto a rough, temporary raft of framing lumber and floated the raft and the bed in the pool.
That explained the sucking sounds. The water was nudging the edges of the raft, stirred by his movements.
There was a soft banging sound coming from the house, making Sasha look up. There were two windows in the big living room that looked directly upon the pool. Sasha could see at least five people standing at the windows. The tallest among them was Nial, a half head higher than Patrick. Patrick slapped his hand against the glass in a soft paddling sound that made Sasha think of someone applauding.
Running footsteps came from inside the conservatory. More people, coming to watch at closer quarters.
Sasha sighed, looking at the nearly twelve feet of water that lapped between the edge of the raft and the side of the pool. Dante could have made the edge with a single dive and a simple breast stroke.
For Sasha, though, it might as well have been the Grand Canyon.
I regret, I do not swim. He had told her that only yesterday. Or was that the day before, now?
It didn’t matter. She had zeroed in on his weakness and exposed it.
Winter, Sebastian and Dominic emerged from the conservatory. They were smiling hugely.
Well, he could sit here all night in this rocking contraption, or he could spring himself. The faster the better. First, he should look around and see if there was anything she had overlooked that he could take advantage of.
He tossed the sheet aside, then pulled it back quickly. He was naked beneath it.
Winter laughed, pressing her face into Sebastian’s shoulder.
Sasha gritted his teeth. “Would one of you mind retrieving the vacuum pole from the locker, over there, then pulling me over to the side?”
Sebastian’s shoulders were shaking. Dominic grinned as he went over to the cupboard and opened it. Then he stepped back, shaking his head. “There’s nothing here,” he said. “It’s completely empty.”
Rory had anticipated him.
Sasha considered his position once more.
“You could dog paddle over to the side,” Sebastian suggested.
“You could jump in and haul the bed over,” Winter told him, slapping his shoulder. “Have a pity on the man. He’s naked.”
Sasha shook his head. “I don’t know what the rules are, but I think you rescuing me will break at least one of them.”
“Rules?” Sebastian said and laughed. “You sound like Rory. She spent all night talking games and rules.”
“Who do you think put him there?” Winter said, looking at Sebastian with a fond expression that one might use with a stubborn child.
Sebastian’s mouth opened. “Ooooohhhh….” he breathed, sounding winded. “Fuck, none of us heard so much as a whisper!”
“I think that was the point,” Sasha said. He looked around. Carefully, for his smallest movement made the bed sway with an erratic motion that made his heart squeeze and his breath halt. “Is there anything under the bed?” he asked.
Winter ducked to look.
So did Sebastian. “Well, there are lots of planks,” he said helpfully.
Everyone was still standing at the windows. There may even have been more than when the lights first flashed on. Possibly, guards from the gate had been drawn in by the sound everyone was making. Even through the double-glazed, sound-proof windows, Sasha could hear their whooping and cheering.
He sighed. “I’m going to have to paddle over,” he said.
“With your hand?” Winter asked. “It’ll take you an hour!”
“Three minutes,” Sasha said. “Maybe less.”
Dominic was sitting on the bricks with his legs crossed and his hands linked together. Laughter was making his shoulders shake.
Sasha considered the sightlines from the pool to the acreage around the house. “Do you think the neighbors can see?”
“Not from that far away,” Sebastian said. “The nearest house is a quarter mile from here.”
“Good.” Sasha pushed the sheet aside once more and eased himself over the edge of the bed, trying to avoid any sharp movements or shifts of his weight. The bed shivered and the platform it was on dipped to one side
, then righted itself once more. The surface of the pool rippled.
Keeping himself to slow movements, Sasha reached back and snagged the pillow in his fist and settled his weight more firmly on the platform. The planking was wet. He would have to watch his footing.
All three of his observers were silent now, watching him work. Even Dominic had lost all but a shadow of his smile.
Carefully, Sasha lowered himself to his knees, working to keep his weight balanced over the same spot, so the raft didn’t rock too badly. Once he was on his knees, he very slowly edged his upper body out over the water, taking his time, waiting for the raft to adjust to the shift.
Then, when the raft was still once more, he lowered the pillow into the water and let the water soak into the light inner filling, making it sink and grow very heavy in his hand.
“What the hell?” Winter breathed.
“Oh…smart!” Sebastian whispered. “Watch,” he added, speaking to Winter.
Once the pillow was as soaked as it could get and dragging his arm down, Sasha drew it through the water, along the edge of the raft, until he couldn’t reach any farther. Then he hauled it up, dripping heavily and back in front of him to pull it through the water once more.
The raft shivered and made little rocking sounds. It was sliding through the water, an inch a second.
“Oh…for heaven’s sake!” Winter breathed. “I wouldn’t have thought of that!”
“Not bad for someone who can’t swim,” Dominic added and Sasha knew he had plucked that fact out of his mind.
“He can’t? Bloody hell!” Sebastian breathed. “Talk about keeping your cool!”
Sasha let their comments wash over him, not reacting. He concentrated on keeping his movements slow and steady. The raft drifted just as slowly toward the shallow end of the pool.
Within the three minutes he had assured Winter it would take, he heard the corner of the raft butt up against the top step, an inch or two below the surface of the water.
He got up carefully. It didn’t matter now if he fell off. The water would be around his knees. He just didn’t want to step into the water. That would feel like a type of defeat. And why was he suddenly thinking in terms of defeat and rules? Had she really infected him that much?
Blood Ascendant (Blood Stone Book 5) Page 17