by Angie Fox
He ignored my sarcasm.
He pinched his fingers together. “We are this close and you want to cut and run.”
“Close?” I wanted to laugh. Or perhaps cry. It didn’t matter. “We don’t know what the prophecies are going to be. It could take the oracle a day, a week, or a goddamned decade to come up with the next one.”
He held his hands out. “And what are you doing in the meantime?” Like I was supposed to jump him.
Well, in case he hadn’t noticed, “In the meantime, I’ve got an ER full of burn victims and a kamikaze dragon on my hands.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Then don’t talk like it’s a fucking walk in the park.”
“Hey, I know this doesn’t look good. Every day is hard. I get that. But you know what? You and me? We’re all we’ve got.” He drew close enough to kiss. “One of these days, you’re going to have to learn to trust that.”
I twisted away from him, toward my shoes, my sanity. “You make it sound so easy.” Well, it wasn’t. And we were not in control. “It could take the next fifty years to complete these prophecies.” If we even survived that long. “And at what cost?”
He was pissed. I could see I was frustrating the hell out of him. Tough. I couldn’t make things easy just because he wanted them that way.
“What if you’re wrong?” he demanded.
I gave him my best level stare. “What if you are?” I sighed, dug a hand through my messy hair. I had to get out of here. “I’m going to Medusa’s on my own tomorrow.”
He frowned. “No you’re not.”
It wasn’t his choice. It was mine. “You’re not invited. She’s sending transportation for one.” Me. “I don’t need you.”
He wasn’t buying it. Shit.
His face was deadly. His voice rough. “Because right here. Just now didn’t mean anything.”
“It can’t,” I said simply.
He cringed like I’d delivered a physical blow. “We need each other, Petra, we always have. I never wanted to fight this war. I did it because it was my duty. But this? What we’re fighting for—what we have between us—this is worth dying a hundred times over.” He towered over me, as if he expected me to say something. To make it right. But I didn’t know how. “How long are you going to punish me?” His frustration, his anger, his sadness radiated from him.
“It’s not about that.”
His expression went cold. “Then I don’t know what else to say to you.”
We dressed in silence. His movements were jerky. Mine resigned, accepting.
I wasn’t going to kill myself trying to have what was impossible. It was the most sane decision I’d made all day.
So why didn’t I feel even the remotest slice of peace?
* * *
When we left the cave, we saw Marc and Leta a short distance away. The two dragons had resumed their human form and sat out on a rock, naked, in deep conversation. They had obviously found some kind of common ground.
Maybe she’d try not to go bat crazy and attack him all the time. And he’d try to help her control her dragon impulses.
If only it were that easy.
Galen raised a hand, and Marc nodded.
My ex had it handled. For now, at least.
And so, we moved on.
Galen walked me back to my tent and stopped at the door.
“When I left you, I did it because I had to, not because I stopped loving you.”
“Fine,” I said, voice wavering. “Perfect.”
He didn’t even look back as he walked away.
* * *
I changed clothes because let’s face it—I could use some new underwear. Then I headed over to see if I could lend an extra set of hands. Rodger was working a double for me. The least I could do was lighten some of the load.
Recovery was still jammed. Over half of our patients were burn victims, and those kinds of cases took time, even for immortals. Most of them would never fully recover. And if they did, they’d carry the scars for the rest of their lives, however long or short that might be.
It was so wrong, such a waste.
Peace would come too late for these soldiers, if it ever came at all. There would be no happy endings. No joyful homecomings.
At least I was giving the rest of the staff a break.
“My name is Dr. Robichaud,” I said to the soldier in bed 15B. Private Kenny Jones. Suffering from third-degree burns to more than twenty percent of his body, as well as inhalation injuries. He was pale, his fingers twitchy. His chart said he was from Pensacola.
“Hey, I’m from New Orleans,” I told him. “We’re practically neighbors.” He let out a choke that could have been a laugh or an acknowledgment. “Don’t talk,” I said quickly. We’d intubated him to drain fluid off his lungs. I smiled, as if I were sharing a joke rather than listening to him choke on his own fluids. “You just get to listen to me.”
Private Jones was lucky. He was a wereleopard and shifters—feline shifters in particular—didn’t usually make it this far with half their lungs burned out. He closed his eyes, nodding, listening as I made small talk about home while I worked to send him back into battle.
This man’s life as he knew it—at home in the deep south, surrounded by his family and his tribe—that was over. War had taken it from him and he’d never be the same. We could play “normal” all we wanted. But some scars never heal.
And no amount of zippedy-do-dah “look to the future” bullshit was going to change that.
I glanced up from my patient, down the rows of beds crowding either side of the long recovery tent. These soldiers deserved some privacy, or at least a quiet place to suffer. But we were at capacity. I didn’t know what we’d do if we got another influx of wounded.
Rodger nudged in next to me when I was back at the sink washing up. “How’d it go with Leta?”
The ward had grown quiet for the night, the patients settling in as best they could. I kept my voice down and gave Rodger the short version on how Marc had dominated Leta, and how they seemed to be connecting.
“Good.” He blew out his breath, like we’d dodged a bullet. Which we had. “Now how did it go with Galen?”
I dropped the soap.
Rodger fished it out of the bottom of the sink. “You’re right. You don’t have any business going near him.” He scrubbed the bar over his brawny arms. “It would only end with you whimpering and me trying to pick up the pieces.”
Actually, it had ended in a screaming orgasm, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I rinsed and grabbed for a towel.
Rodger shook his head. “I mean, you obviously love the guy. Why torture yourself?” He glanced at me. “See? You have that look again. It was bad enough the first time,” he muttered under his breath.
“I’m fine,” I said, tossing him the towel.
He glanced at me. “All I’m saying is you need a clear head right now.”
Then he needed to stop talking about sex.
He tossed the towel in the laundry barrel. “Otherwise, we really are fucked.”
Case in point.
“I’m not going to be around anyway,” I said, changing the subject. “Medusa’s shower is tomorrow.” That would at least give me a day to clear my head.
“Right,” Rodger said, smiling for the first time. He had retrieved part of the invite and set it up on his desk. The stone hearts amused him. “Did she ever say what kind of ‘transport’ she was sending?”
“No.” Nerves clawed at me. “I’m just supposed to wait by the tar pit tomorrow.” Maybe this journey would kill me. It would at least put me out of my misery.
We walked up to the front to pick up our new charts. “What are you going to give her?” he asked.
“I have no idea.” What did a gorgon expect when she was expecting? “It’s not like she’s registered at Babies ‘R’ Us.”
“You should have been shopping before now.”
“Where? At the PX?” At that rate, I’d
be buying her shower shoes and stale Fruit Stripe gum.
“Maybe you can make her something.”
He had to be kidding. “Have you seen me make anything in the last seven years?”
Rodger snorted. “I haven’t even seen you make your bed.”
“Maybe I’ll get called away on an emergency,” I said, leaning against the nurses’ station, glancing out at our patient load. It’s not as if they didn’t need me here.
Rodger dug through the charts. “You can’t skip. You RSVP’d.”
“No, you did.”
Holly barged past me. “Out of my way.” She took the charts from Rodger. “Stop it. These are done. We’re all caught up, if you can believe that.”
I strained my eyes to see down into the pools of darkness settling over the unit. “Who’s on night?”
She glanced down the row of beds. “Thaïs and Marius.”
“Dang.” I knew it was late, but, “Marius is on already?”
“Has been for hours,” Holly replied. “You really do need to get out more.”
I could say the same about her. Rodger and I signed out, and headed for home.
A harsh wind blew in from the desert, buffeting the flames of the torches. “I really should make my excuses for tomorrow.” No good could come of a trip out to the Isle of Wrath and Pain.
Rodger dug his hands into his pockets. “You will not. It’s one day out of your life. I’ll even help you find a present.”
I breathed in the tang of torch fuel and desert dust. “I am not getting her anything Star Wars.”
“Girls like Star Wars.”
“Rodger,” I snapped. But really, what was the use? I didn’t have anything to give her. The entirety of my worldly possessions consisted of uniforms, books, and my shower kit. And she wasn’t getting any of my books. Not that she’d appreciate them anyway.
Back at the tent, I rolled down the shades while Rodger lit the lanterns. The wind off the desert was chilling me to the core. I pulled on my New Orleans Zephyrs jacket while Rodger dragged a crate from under his bed.
He unhinged the lid. “Take a look at this.”
Inside was a good portion of his rock collection. While I tried to work some circulation into my cold fingers, he started pulling out various trays, lined with felt.
I appreciated the thought, but, “I can’t get her a rock.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” Rodger tsked. He drew out a white velvet bundle and proceeded to unwrap a gorgeous pink crystal cluster. He held it out to me and I watched as the lantern light caught the facets of the crystal. “It’s cobaltoan calcite. Used to stimulate love and beauty.”
I snarfed. “In that case, we need a truckload.”
Rodger shrugged. “It’s symbolic. And it’s yours if you want it.”
It was sweet, but, “I don’t know. Do you have any crystal skulls?”
He handed the pink calcite to me. It felt heavier than expected. I had to admit it was pretty. And unique. “You don’t think she’ll think this is too girly?”
“She’s having a girl,” Rodger said, as if pink and girls went together like … oh, I guess they did. He turned back to his collection and began putting the trays away. “Shopping’s over. Five minutes is my limit.”
Men. They never changed, no matter the species.
I hefted the rock. It really was pretty. “Thanks, buddy.”
He tossed me the velvet cloth and I rewrapped it. If I had time, I’d grab some pink medical tape and make a bow.
“Maybe you should come with me,” I mused.
“No way.” Rodger flopped down on his cot. “I don’t do showers. Besides, tomorrow’s my day off. I plan to waste it in front of the TV.”
I placed the rock on my dresser and began shucking off my boots. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Our television only got one station—PNN. And there was only so much of it I could take.
Rodger stretched out on his back. “Nah. Especially not with the new prophecy coming in.”
I dropped my boot.
“See what you miss when you’re out playing with dragons?” He rose up on his elbows. “Yeah. Evidently, the healer got a bronze weapon.”
I cleared my throat.
Of course I did. The oracles sure didn’t waste any time.
“They’re back to their soothsaying,” he said, bunching up his pillow and lying back down. “The media is going nuts.”
“Glad I’m going to miss it,” I said, heart pounding, lying through my teeth. Whatever the oracles predicted could impact me immediately. I needed warning. I needed to know as soon as it happened, exactly what I was going to face.
If only the oracles worked that way.
* * *
The next morning, I stood out waiting by the tar swamp, still unsure as to exactly what kind of transportation one took to a gorgon baby shower.
Please let it be a jeep. Or as long as I was wishing: a tank.
There was no telling how far it was to the Island of Wrath and Pain, but I had a pretty good idea it wasn’t a hop, skip, and a jump around the corner. I hadn’t seen a puddle of water, much less a lake, since I’d left home all those years ago.
At least I’d get to see Medusa. She’d canceled on her last prenatal appointment. The poor mom-to-be was scared to death of dragon pox. I tried to explain to her that being half rattlesnake, she couldn’t get the disease (even if the camp had been truly infested—which it wasn’t), but it was no use. Once the gorgon got something in her head, well, it was set in stone.
My fingers tightened on the handle of my medical kit. My other hand held the wrapped-up rock.
I was still trying to figure out how I’d gotten myself into this.
“You see anything?” Rodger yelled from the window of our hutch.
“No,” I said, my voice carrying over the tar pits. If he wanted to talk to me, he could walk over here like a normal person.
And then, I saw something in the distance. It looked almost like a horse. Dang, what I wouldn’t give to see Marc’s friend Oghul at this moment. He was a berserker, and a little rough around the edges, but his enchanted horse was a wicked fast ride.
Whatever it was, it was kicking up an enormous dust cloud.
As it got closer, I saw the animal had shaggy fur. There was no man, or berserker, on it at all. Rather, it had two heads. No, three!
Dread clenched low in my stomach.
This creature could be coming for something else. But no, it was hurtling directly for me.
“What the hell is that?” Rodger hollered.
It was the size of our tent, with the shaggy, muscled body of a lion. It roared as it charged straight for the place where I stood.
Cripes. The thing really did have three heads. The largest was that of a lion. It snarled as the creature skidded to a stop inches from where I stood. I choked on the dust and the heat and the acidic gamy stench of the beast.
The lion’s head huffed, bathing my face with its humid breath. The second head looked like a big, ugly, hairy half-possessed goat. It champed its teeth, and I dodged to avoid twisted horns as long as my arm.
The third head, that of a cobra, was attached to the beast’s tail. It coiled over the body as the hind legs thumped to the ground. The soil beneath my feet vibrated with the impact as the serpent hissed and showed its fangs.
“Fuck no.” I dropped my bag and backed away slowly.
I breathed heavily, trying not to show fear. If it attacked … hell, I didn’t know what I’d do.
Maybe I could bash it over the head with my crystal.
While the other two heads ate me.
It was a chimera—part lion, part goat, part serpent. They were known for their bad tempers and their willingness to devour nearly anything made of meat.
And oh, look, it had a little saddle on the back of its massive body.
I backed up toward Rodger and my tent, afraid to take my eyes off the thing. “Rodger?”
No response.
Goddamnit. W
here was he?
“Rodger…” Every instinct I had screamed for me to run. But I didn’t dare. Fleeing equaled prey.
But each step I took backward, the beast followed me, mouths snarling, fangs drooling. It wasn’t letting me go. At this rate, it was going to follow me straight into camp.
“Rodger!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
Footsteps crunched on the sand behind me, steady and sure. Definitely not Rodger.
“Calm down.” Galen drew up next to me, as controlled as I’d ever seen him. “They can smell fear.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, my voice not as steady as I liked. “And what does that smell like?”
He stood between me and the beast. “Tasty.”
“All the demigods in limbo and I had to pick the comedian.”
Galen wore a crisp, new flight suit and his sword belt. The snake dripped venom that hissed in the sand at his feet. “I’ll say one thing for you. You picked a hell of a ride.”
He took one step toward it, then another, his hand on the hilt of his blade. “Stop it,” I hissed. He was going to get himself killed.
He ignored me.
I stood rooted to the spot. The creature had stopped advancing. “Maybe it’ll leave.”
Galen didn’t take his eyes off the beast for a second. “No. It’s here for you.”
The chimera pawed the ground, restless.
“It’s going to take you to its owner, no matter what,” Galen said. “Don’t make it drag you by your toenails.”
Damn Medusa. Damn her and her baby shower and anybody else on the western edge of the world who thought it was a good idea to hold a party on the Isle of Wrath and Pain.
“Come on.” Galen reached back for me.
I hesitated. “Is it tame?”
“No,” he said, “but it will let us ride.”
“I’m going to kill her,” I said, trying to get my mind around it. I found my medical kit. I tucked the crystal inside before following him.
“Trust me,” Galen said, “that’s hard to do.” He reached up and gripped the reins dangling from the lion’s neck.
The chimera leaned down and snorted, its hot breath tickling my leg.
I froze.
Belatedly, I realized it was lowering itself down to let me mount.
Galen cracked a grin. “You still want me to stay here?”