by Angie Fox
He shook his head. “It’s impossible to say. Dr. Keller talked about needing a pathway.” The lantern light played off his features, making him look even more stark, mesmerizing. “The toxin acts like a virus. The good thing is that once it’s inside the body, it’s not replicating fast enough to overtake someone’s system.”
He touched my hand and I felt it everywhere. His closeness was almost overwhelming. He ran his fingers along the edges of a cut I didn’t even know I had. “In its current state, the virus will make people sick, but it won’t kill them. We have time.”
Gently, I pulled my hand back. “Until they develop a pathway.” This was all so screwed up. “Hopefully we can get through the prophecies before that,” I said, daring him to doubt me.
He didn’t.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be a good friend,” he said, putting an emphasis on the last word.
It vibrated through me. “Will you?”
I needed to know. We were working together. I had to feel like I could focus, and right now all I could think about was what it would be like to touch him back.
Maybe I should just drag him over to the cot and get it over with. Then it could be just physical and not this terrible, aching emptiness.
He knew his limits. He held his true self back. I couldn’t even try. It wasn’t me.
I tilted my head, studying the raised scar that cut across his neck.
This cool detachment, this separation, it never would have been possible for Marc, either. Until this war.
He hitched his breath as I ran my fingers along his raised flesh. His skin colored as I touched the smooth skin below.
Could I break through to him?
Did I even want to?
My thumb lingered at the base of his throat. “What have you suffered that you decided it was better to be alone?” What had he seen? Had it been worse for him?
He lowered his head. “I’ve operated until I could hardly walk out of the OR at the end of my shift. I’ve watched soldiers scream on my table as their organs went liquid from poison because we had nothing left to neutralize it. I’ve watched my patients left for dead.”
And been left for dead himself.
“And it was better to do it alone,” I said.
He swallowed. “Yes.”
Maybe he was right. I didn’t know. But one thing was certain. I wouldn’t try to make him feel. I wouldn’t dredge up the pain and the longing and the suffering he’d buried just to find that part of him he’d lost, that part of him I’d loved.
It was too hard. He’d suffered too much. And I refused to leave him broken when it was time to say goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-One
When night fell, we heard a knock at the door. Marius poked his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Medusa needs you.”
Marc and I were at my desk, working on a list of milder solvents. I stood. “Is she okay?”
His face was drawn. “She thinks she might be feeling some contractions. She’s in the clinic. Nobody wanted to treat her. And she has a prejudice against vampires.”
“I’ll take care of her,” I said, heading out. Medusa knew me. Besides, I didn’t want anyone treating her if they weren’t comfortable. She’d sense that. Every patient had a right to feel like their doctor was 100 percent focused on their care.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in your lab,” Marius remarked as we headed through the minefield.
I didn’t want to talk about it. But I did owe him one. “Thanks again for talking to me about Marc.” I knew he’d been ready to sleep when I went pounding on his lair.
He nodded. “I’m just sorry I didn’t have better news.”
“He’s fine.” I leaned close so no one would hear. “That was him back there.”
Marius’s eyes widened. “You mean the dragon?” He shook his head, as if I’d said something crazy. “Why didn’t you introduce me?”
I shook my head. “I’m a little off when it comes to that man.” Understatement of the year. “And how did you know he was a dragon?”
Marius shrugged. “I smelled him.” He walked next to me, hands in the pockets of his white doctor’s coat. “Shifters recover much better from a disruptor blast. You gave me the impression he was human.”
“Oh,” I said, startled. “He lives like one,” I added lamely, as if that made a difference.
“No wonder Rodger is busting a gut,” Marius said as we crossed the street toward the clinic. “I can always tell when he has a secret.”
“He’d better not say anything about Marc and me. I can’t let it get out that Marc and I used to be together.”
“You’re not now?” he asked.
“No,” I said, wishing it didn’t hurt so much to say.
“Don’t worry,” Marius said quickly. “I’ll do what I can to keep things quiet.” He opened the door to the clinic for me. “Besides, the more they talk, the less they believe what they say.”
I sure hoped he was right.
The waiting room was crowded, which I took as a good sign. Word was getting out about the care we offered here.
I took Medusa’s chart and headed for a room in the back. “Did you get a urine sample?” I asked one of the nurses on duty.
She shook her head no, her thin nose wrinkling slightly at the thought.
Come on. I knew Medusa could turn a person to stone, but she was also a creature in need of care. She didn’t need us tiptoeing around her.
“Give it to me,” I said as the nurse went to retrieve a small plastic cup. I’d handle it myself.
Medusa had just done her thing, a common occurrence with pregnant women, so I had another nurse fetch me a bottle of water.
“Drink,” I told her while I took her vitals.
We did a full examination, and it turned out the Gorgon just had some indigestion.
She ran her hands over the slight roundness of her green scaled stomach. “My apologies. I feel foolish.”
“Don’t.” No need for that. “I’m glad you came in.”
Her stomach rumbled. “It must be the jelly beans. I cannot get enough.”
“Your weight gain is fine,” I said, double-checking her chart. “Just make sure you balance the sugar with plenty of veggies and good-for-you foods.” I took her mostly full water bottle and watched as she shifted on the crinkly paper that covered the examination table. “Are you taking your prenatal vitamins?”
She hissed. “They are like horse pills.”
The water in the bottle began to boil. Yikes.
She didn’t notice as I capped it and practically threw it onto the counter behind me.
Her eyes darted. “It is like the time Athena made me swallow the three-pointed trident of Neptune.”
I glanced back at the bottle. It was still bubbling. Incredible. I knew some of my patients had powers, but I didn’t usually see it firsthand.
“Are you taking your prenatals?” I asked again.
“Yes,” she grumbled.
“Good.” That was all I’d needed to know.
As eager as I was to get back to the lab, this was one of the parts of being a doctor that I enjoyed the most. Medusa might like to thrash her tail, but I knew she was taking good care of herself and her baby.
I sent her up front to schedule her eighteen-week ultrasound. Then I stayed behind to change the paper on her exam table and grab the leftover water bottle. It wasn’t my job to clean up the room, but in a way I felt like I owed it to the poor Gorgon not to have that nurse in here with her wrinkled nose and her prejudices.
Afterward, I checked out of the clinic and headed to the minefield.
Cool and collected.
If I could do it with an ancient Gorgon, I could at least attempt it with Marc.
I arrived just in time to see an immense wooden cart pull up to the lab. It was hitched to two white cows with leafy garlands around their necks. We both cringed as the oversized wheels of the cart ground against a wrecked wheelchair. It screeched against an old metal
storage locker as the cows dragged it for several yards.
I walked up to him. “That’s something you don’t see every day.”
He wore a slightly pained expression. “Nerthus likes cows.”
“So do I. Medium rare with a baked potato.”
There was no driver, at least none that we could see.
We walked around to the back. “So I’m assuming the last delivery didn’t come by cow.”
His jaw tightened. “Try Nerthus in a string bikini.”
For a goddess, that was playing hard to get.
Marc lifted the cover on the rear of the cart and my heart stuttered. “It’s a generator!” The other boxes held metal lab tables, more uniforms for Marc, and—I held up a red man-thong. “What is this?”
He pulled a box of electric lights off the cart and groaned.
“Is this the goddess’s version of underwear?” I asked, stretching it between my fingers. This was too precious. It even sparkled. “I’d love to see you in this.”
“I thought we were just friends,” he said, reaching for another box.
“We are,” I said before he got any ideas.
“Maybe I’ll go commando,” Marc said, heading into the lab.
Like I needed to be thinking of that all day.
We soon realized we also had a full set of worship books dedicated to Nerthus, as well as a framed lock of her hair. Ew. I was half tempted to burn it for testing.
No extension cords for the generator, but Marc put in a request.
“Tell her you miss her,” I said, checking out the generator as he filled out the paperwork.
“What?” he choked out. “You don’t think I’m already the mortal flavor of the week?”
Well, he wouldn’t be mine.
He lowered his pen. “Why are you so determined to push me away?”
He had to be kidding. “Do you want an alphabetic list or maybe just Top Ten style?”
There was a sharp rap at the door. “Pizza.”
No way.
I opened it up to find a rather annoyed Horace hovering outside the door. “Ahem, I come in the name of Eris the most high and beautiful goddess.” He rolled his eyes. “The supreme deity with the most beautific gifts, the perkiest bosom, and the best sense of style.”
“Really?” Marc asked.
Horace shrugged. “It was on the note card. She isn’t allowed to come up here, so I’m supposed to send her regards and check you out.” The minor god craned his neck in the door to get a handle on Marc. “Um-hum. Okay.” He handed me the pizza. “Bye.”
“This is ridiculous,” Marc said, holding the pie.
I shrugged. “You know the goddesses.”
He frowned. “I’m not talking about that.”
“Sorry, Marc. I’m not going to get into it.” I sat on a stool, as far as I could get from him, willing him to respect the distance, honor what we’d said would never happen between us. “Let’s just have some pizza.”
The next day, Father McArio dropped by with Fitz the hellhound and helped us put everything together. We paid him back with my favorite item in that day’s cart—a two-by-four-foot ornately framed picture of the goddess.
“This is certainly a nice frame,” Father said as he hoisted it up. “You really don’t mind?”
Marc walked him to the door. “We’ll say it got lost in transit.”
Frankly, all of the gifts were making me nervous.
Eris had sent presents as well—massage oils and silk sheets. And muffuletta sandwiches from Central Grocery in the French Quarter.
“What is this?” I drew an ornate glass jar out of a box. “It’s filled with bubbles.”
Marc winced. “Don’t open it or she’ll know we saw it. Just”—he motioned to a stack of boxes near the door—“put it in the bottom of one of those.”
Fat chance. I rested it on my hip. “What is it?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a divine telephone. You break the bubble and call someone.”
“I like it,” I said, wondering whom I could possibly call.
“No. Nerthus will know if you use one.”
Figured. And she’d know we didn’t call her. “Fine,” I said, shoving it under a box of slave-boy costumes. I hoped Nerthus wasn’t going to pop by and ask Marc to dress up for a surprise inspection.
Subsequent deliveries from Nerthus brought us a state-of-the-art fume hood, a lab-grade refrigerator, and two crates of pinecones blessed by the goddess.
But no extension cords.
We couldn’t hook up the lights without them. We’d ask, only to receive a binding cord. Or a cord of wood. Or once, even a board. Finally, we had Jeffe draw a picture while he was in for a venom extraction.
As we worked through our options, we struggled with exactly what kind of solvent to use that would act as a neutralizing agent for the venom. I was beginning to think a natural substance just wouldn’t cut it. As mere mortals, that was frustrating because natural solvents and chemicals were all we had.
I was careful not to touch Marc as he pored over a medical text. “What about poison?”
He kept reading, absorbed. “Be reasonable. Nerthus isn’t that annoying.”
I leaned up against the lab table, trying to work it out in my mind. “The harshest solvents we have aren’t strong enough. We haven’t even had one substance show real promise.” The sphinx venom was just too strong. I adjusted my stance. “Hear me out. How is it any different from what they’re doing at the University of Buffalo?” Last I’d heard, they’d found a way to use tarantula venom to combat heart attack deaths.
He was listening now. “Venom as a neutralizer. That could work.”
“It could,” I said, getting excited. “You think you could score us some?” Both sides had been using poison as a weapon for some time now. I handed him the forms. “Ask for the spittle of the Cerberus first,” I said. Cerberus was the three-headed dog of the underworld. “You know—dogs and cats…”
“I’m going to get Britney Spears perfume as well,” he said, writing down the second most common poison to the gods.
“Yes. Perfect.” We could use some good-smelling solvents in this lab. And it wouldn’t kill us if we spilled it.
Marc glanced up at me as he wrote. “There’s the blood of Medusa.”
Right. “I’m seeing her the day after tomorrow.”
Or sooner. It seemed like Medusa was in the clinic every day. She’d reported coming down with the divine plague, blood humors, and flesh-eating bacteria, all of which turned out to be simple morning sickness.
I prescribed saltine crackers.
And confiscated the water she boiled. She really needed to watch her temper.
The next morning, we received our poisons and our extension cords. We got to work on the poisons first. Then, after we’d turned our eight o’clock report in, I sat back to watch Marc work, shirtless. I’d miss the view once the air-conditioning started up.
“The lights look nice,” I told him. He’d installed standard lab fluorescents over our work area, and a tabletop lamp in the back. “You always were good with your hands,” I murmured as he climbed down from the chair he’d been standing on.
The muscles in his arms worked as he rubbed his hands clean on a white towel. “Are you coming on to me?”
Of course not. “I’m just observant.”
He caught my wrist. His eyes glittered as he drew my hand toward him and kissed each fingertip.
A windup timer on the lab counter dinged.
“I’ll take a look,” I said. And when I slid our latest test formula under the microscope, I froze.
Our solvent had not only neutralized the sphinx venom, it had eaten our healthy cells, too.
We were going in the wrong direction. At least with the spittle of Cerberus.
Marc examined the results on the other lab table. “The Britney Spears perfume ate our sample.”
I rested my head on the top of the microscope. If our most potent earthly a
nd limbo-based solvents were too weak, and our immortal poisons were too strong—what then?
My eyes fixed on the water Medusa had boiled on her last visit to the clinic. It wasn’t a poison, like her blood. It wasn’t a natural substance, like gasoline or ethanol.
Marc followed my gaze and took the bottle. “What?”
“I’m thinking,” I said slowly. I picked up the nearly full bottle, turning it over in my hands.
“It’s just water,” I said, handing it to him. “But it might possibly be enhanced.”
Medusa boiled it when she got mad. I hadn’t asked her about her household, other than to talk about crib safety. Still, according to myth, Medusa lived on an island surrounded by a toxic lake. So if she was doing something to the water…
“Let’s try it,” Marc said, taking a dropperful. I capped it and returned the bottle to the table next to me.
It could work.
Just then there was a rap on the door. “Hello!”
Father McArio.
“Come on in,” I said as he opened the door.
He backed in, holding two large bags in his hands. “A troop of dancing girls delivered this to me by mistake.”
He had Krystal’s hamburgers. I could smell the burgers and the onions as I took the bags from him.
“Stay for dinner,” I said, taking out burgers and onion rings. Eris had sent a ton.
“You talked me into it,” Father said, pulling up a lab chair next to me. “How is your work going?” he asked us.
“We think we might be onto something,” Marc said, preparing the samples.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Father said, unwrapping a burger. “Wondrous how the goddess kept these so hot.”
He uncapped the bottle on the table and brought it to his lips.
Oh no. “Wait!”
But it was too late. He’d taken a drink.
“Is there something—?” His question ended on a gurgle.
He tried to swallow and couldn’t.
“Father.” I grabbed for him as he started to collapse sideways. No, no, no. “Father, stay with me.”
I eased him down off the chair and onto the floor.
Marc joined me. “What happened?”