by Angie Fox
I leaned close, my voice barely a whisper. “You saw nothing.” As long as he believed that, he was safe.
We both were.
His hand cupped the back of my head. I jumped, but he held me close.
I trembled as his fingers wound through my hair. “How did you—”
“I escaped,” he said simply, his touch scorching me. His breath was ragged. “Whatever happened on that table, your secret is safe with me. I won’t hurt you.” He guided me closer. “What are you afraid of?”
I could barely find my voice. “You.”
“I know,” he said, fingers caressing my scalp as if to calm me. It didn’t work. I could have sworn he saw through me, into me, like I had him. But that was impossible. “Let me in,” he urged. “I can protect you. It’s what I do.” His breath touched my ear. “You don’t have to fight this battle alone.”
I shouldn’t have felt the things I was feeling. And I didn’t have to fight any battles at all. He could get me killed just talking about this.
I broke away from him. “You need to go.”
“You can’t pretend this isn’t happening. It won’t work,” he said, with way too much conviction for my taste.
I stood. “You’re in the hands of the New God Army now,” I said to him and anyone else who wanted to listen. “Beware of the paperwork.”
That was the way it had to be.
“This isn’t over,” he ground out.
It was. “I’m sorry, soldier. It was an honor to meet you.”
Galen watched me as the orderly slid his stretcher into the ambulance.
It hurt to watch him go. I wanted to say something more, to tell him to be safe or to take care of himself. But I knew that was impossible. I’d given what I could. There was no safe place anymore—not in this war.
The only thing we could do was survive. I handed the driver the completed orders.
Goodbye, Galen of Delphi.
I tried to forget about him the best way I knew how. I stopped back by our place and talked Rodger into hitting our favorite fishing spot near the edge of the tar swamps. Then again, with Rodger it didn’t take much convincing.
The suns blazed down, but I didn’t care. I was used to this place. I could handle it.
I unfolded my beach chair and wedged my pink flamingo iced tea cup into the sand. One good thing about the gods—justice was swift. If anyone in the yard had suspected my forbidden gift, I’d be serving my sentence by now.
Rodger clapped me on the shoulder. “Why so glum?”
“No reason.” I eased back into my chair.
Despite what Galen had said, it was over. He was at least halfway to the third quadrant by now.
It shouldn’t have affected me as deeply as it did.
Galen had his duty. I had mine.
End of story.
One Greek commander couldn’t protect me from the wrath of the gods, no matter how fearsome or drop-dead sexy he was. Which was why he had to go. And why I shouldn’t get personally involved with my patients.
Damn. I gazed out over the bubbling lake of tar. I was turning into a complete sap. As a doctor, I’d learned to block out personal feelings. Sure, I cared about my patients and wanted to help them as much as I could. But I couldn’t get caught up in every struggle or it would kill me.
“I saved you some cheeseburger soup,” Rodger said, nudging a brown sack with his foot. “The cheese broth is extra nuclear today—bright orange.”
Yum. “I just wish I hadn’t missed Father McArio at lunch.”
The priest hadn’t been in his office, either. I’d checked three times.
Rodger gave me an encouraging smile from under a floppy hat decorated with beer company logos. “Relax. He’s around somewhere.”
I eased the knife out of my scrubs. It was still wrapped in my surgical cap. I knew I’d rinsed it long enough to wash away the poison. Still, I didn’t want it in my pocket for the next couple of hours.
“What’s that?” Rodger asked as I tried to be sly.
“It’s the knife I removed from one of my patients yesterday.” Maybe I’d store it under my beach chair.
He scrunched his nose. “I know you’re not a big rule follower, but that belongs in weapons waste.”
“That’s where I put it,” I admitted, shifting it to my other hand as he reached over to take a peek under the wrapping. “I tossed it in the bin like we always do. Then I opened my locker after my shift, and there it was.”
He stared at me. “That’s weird, even for this place.”
“Tell me about it.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think the thing was following me.
“What are you going to do?” Rodger prodded, invading my personal space, giving a low whistle when he pushed the cap back all the way and saw the chunk missing from the end.
“I’m going to get rid of it.” Somehow. “Maybe try to toss it in the bin again.” And then avoid my locker.
Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what to do.
“I can help,” Rodger asked, reaching for it again.
“Don’t touch it,” I said, moving it out of his range.
“You want to get rid of it?” he asked as if I were somehow holding up the show.
“Of course!” I eased up as he made another grab for it.
“Then here.” He seized the knife by the handle and, with a gentle arc, tossed it into the swamp. “There you go.”
Plop!
I watched open-mouthed as the sticky tar gurgled and swallowed it up. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“You wanted to get rid of it.” Rodger shrugged. “It can’t hurt anyone now. Plus, you kind of know where it is.”
The werewolf had a point.
I eyed him. “Rodger, I think you’re a genius.”
He grinned and reached for his tea glass. “I’ve gotten that before.”
I let out a long breath. The dagger was…mostly gone.
I’d take it. I reached under the beach chair and fished out the container of cheeseburger soup.
Rodger was right on that count as well; I’d never seen a neon orange soup before. “The cooks outdid themselves today,” I said, tucking the lid under the to-go bowl and stirring the mess with a plastic spoon. It was mostly potatoes, with cheese sauce that tasted more like water. I stirred and caught a few flecks of what appeared to be meat. “Someone should tell them cheeseburgers don’t belong in a blender.”
“As if they’d waste a good burger,” Rodger said, baiting a hook with popcorn. “That meat is so far away from the cow, I could probably eat it.”
He cast his line into the swamp. The weight on the end made a small plop before it sank under.
“Got any more popcorn?” I asked.
He smiled at me like he would one of his kids. “Just five pieces and they’re for the fish.”
I washed down a couple of bites of the soup with a large gulp of warm tea. We were each issued two ice cubes with any beverage, and it seemed I’d used mine up.
Ah, the joys of camp life. I should be back in our hutch sleeping, but I couldn’t get Galen of Delphi out of my mind.
If he’d only gone the first time. If only I could have let him go this time without having to restrain him.
If only he hadn’t touched me.
He was the most un-helpless tied-up guy I’d ever seen. Now he was out there somewhere, putting together the pieces of what had happened on that operating table. It shook me in a way that I hadn’t been, not in a long time.
But what I’d done was right. I’d saved both of us from a world of hurt. I ended this pursuit of a doomed prophecy that could only serve to expose me. I’d kept Galen of Delphi from learning anything else, and I’d be rid of this knife as soon as I could find our resident exorcist.
Then I could rest easy tonight. I hoped.
In the meantime, I lowered my sunglasses, stretched out my legs, and leaned back in my chair. “Wake me when you catch the big one.”
“You’re the Sleeping Beau
ty of the swamp.”
I sank back, becoming one with the chair. “Just as long as I’m sleeping.”
Our roommate, Marius, had left his German club music on inside the footlocker that doubled as his daytime coffin. Again. And even if I lowered the light-blocking shades, it wasn’t like I was really up for cracking the lid and waking the vampire to make him turn it off. I could still hear the thump-thump techno beat from our tent at the far end of the swamp.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to turn a deaf ear. “How does Marius listen to that junk?”
“Got a few pennies? We can have Horace blow his speakers.”
“I only have three, and I promised them to Horace already.” I’d have to get on that.
Later.
The warm sunlight seeped into my skin. It felt good to simply sit.
“Well, I’m not going anywhere near those speakers,” Rodger mused. “It seems like every creature with a nose has been able to scent me lately.”
Yes, well, love is not telling your friend that he smells. “I don’t know why you bother fishing for sea serpents,” I said, changing the subject. “They taste worse than mess hall food.”
“They make cute pets.”
If you liked scraggly, nibbly little dinosaurs. Rodger had at least six. I shuddered to think what would happen if Marius ever caught on. If I were a psychologist, I’d say the wee beasties were an unconscious replacement for the four pups and a wife Rodger had left behind in London.
We weren’t allowed to keep pets—or ship them home. Not since a sea serpent got loose in Loch Ness.
Colonel Kosta, our camp commander, was a real hardnose. The old Spartan liked to sleep on a plank of wood and ran the camp with ironclad efficiency. He was squarely on the side of duty and order. I was on the side of whatever kept us sane.
Rodger’s chair squeaked as he leaned back. “Nice job on the kraken in the shower, by the way.”
“Oh, it wasn’t my kraken. I just moved it.” Kosta had already showered. Ugly sucker—the kraken, I meant. Well, Kosta, too, come to think of it. “Whoever did it needs to pay attention to the colonel’s schedule.” He was long gone by the time they’d dumped the adolescent sea monster into shower stall three.
We had a bet going to see who could prank Kosta first. It started off with me and Rodger, then the nurses, then the motor pool. That was when the stakes went way up.
“What’s the pot up to now?” Rodger asked.
“Three weeks, one day, six hours, and twenty minutes.” Army money was useless unless you were headed to the officers’ club. So we bet what really mattered—time away from this joint.
Rodger whistled under his breath. “You don’t want to know what I could do with that.”
“Make more pups?” I asked. I couldn’t resist.
He grinned. “Mary Ann and I wouldn’t mind trying.”
His face fell and I knew he was thinking about his wife. There was nothing I could say to make it better, so I kept my mouth shut. Sure, I missed my old life in New Orleans, but Rodger had a wife and family. He’d been here for three years with no hope of ever seeing his kids again.
The army granted each soldier twenty minutes topside for every year served. That meant in the last three years, Rodger had earned an hour of vacation. Regulations prevented anyone from cashing in leave until they had a week. It would take more than five hundred years to get that kind of break.
So if we couldn’t spend it, we bet it. Pretty much everybody in camp had put their leave minutes into the pool. Whoever succeeded in pulling one over on Kosta would get the whole pot.
Kosta knew it, too. That was why he was so hard to get.
I listened to the bubbling tar and focused on the warm sun against my face. I was nearly, maybe, possibly asleep when a cool breeze whisked against my shoulder. It almost felt like the winds off the river back home until a bony finger dug into my arm.
“Oh, Petra…”
I was instantly awake—a trick I’d learned in residency.
“He’s back,” Horace said.
I got a sinking feeling in my gut. “Who’s back?”
The orderly hovered at my left, the wings on his ankles fluttering like hummingbirds. “Your balls-to-the-wall special ops patient,” he said. “The ambulance broke down.”
“For the love of the gods.” I sat up.
“I never heard of that,” Rodger said, his fishing pole braced between his knees, a mess tent coffee cup in his hand. “The EMS fleet is in top shape.”
Rodger was right. The army took impeccable care of equipment. We couldn’t afford for something not to work.
I shuddered to think it, but, “Did Galen break it?”
“Who?” Rodger gave me a look like I was the crazy one.
Horace crossed his arms over his chest. “It was basans.”
“Pardon me?” I asked.
“Basans,” Horace repeated. “Fire-breathing chickens nesting in the engine,” he added as if it were a fact of life.
I felt my jaw tighten. “Put him on the next one.”
“They did,” he said, managing to sound both superior and offended. “That one ran over a horny-backed boar. The pig is fine, but the ambulance blew out two tires. Then they used the smaller ambulance.”
My belly sank. “The one that holds four patients?” I knew where this was going.
“He didn’t fit.”
I dug my fingers under my sunglasses to rub my eyes. “Let me guess. The smaller ambulance left without a hitch.”
The orderly nodded.
Cripes.
Rodger’s bushy eyebrows wrinkled like he didn’t get it. “I saw Commander Galen this morning. He’s fine. He can recover here.”
No, he couldn’t. “He’s a troublemaker,” I said in the understatement of the year.
Rodger settled back into his chair, tugging on his fishing pole. “He seemed okay to me.”
“What do you know?”
“I know enough to keep my foot out of the popcorn bowl.”
“Sorry.” I moved my foot and sat with my elbows planted on my knees. “Maybe I can put him on a chopper.”
“The winds are coming up,” Horace said, scanning the horizon. “Nobody’s flying.”
“Of course they’re not.”
Besides, I didn’t want to break any choppers. The ambulances were bad enough.
I stood and felt a heavy weight in my pocket. “Oh no.” I looked down and saw the ornate handle of a bronze dagger poking out of my pants.
Horace spotted it first. “Doctors aren’t supposed to be armed.”
I eased it out of my pocket—compact handle, triangular blade. The top of the knife curved to form the head of a serpent.
Rodger stood, his chair toppling over backwards into the sand. “That looks like the dagger I threw into the swamp!”
“You’re both armed?” Horace screeched.
Rodger examined the knife in my hand. “It is! It has the same missing piece from the blade,” he declared, wide-eyed. “You saw me throw it into the swamp.”
“I did,” I said, stomach sinking. It would also have been nice if Horace wasn’t here to see this.
“I think it’s following you,” Rodger declared.
I was starting to think so, too. And it felt worse to hear it out loud. “I’ve got to figure out what to do with it,” I said, stuffing the knife back into my pocket.
“You gotta see Father McArio,” Rodger insisted.
“He’s on my list,” I said. Among other things. I clapped Rodger on the shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”
“Go,” Rodger called. “Get rid of it,” he added as I headed back toward camp.
Believe me, I would.
But first, I had a few questions for Galen of Delphi.
Chapter Five
Galen lounged in bunk 22A, chest bare, waiting for me.
Part of me was almost glad to see him, which was ridiculous. I was in charge of this operation, not him. At least I hoped that was still the case.<
br />
I made my way down the long row of beds, nerves hammering as I tried to retain the aloof casualness that had served me so well throughout my career.
If I had any less pride, I’d be cringing.
I took his chart off the end of his bed. “Heck of a day. You must be tired.”
His strong jaw flexed. “You wish.”
Okay. I probably deserved that. “What can I say? I’m used to running the show.”
“So am I.” I saw a glint in his eye. A challenge? Just what I needed.
I replaced his chart. He was healing well. No signs of infection. With any luck, I could ship him back to his unit in the next day or two.
And he would be sent into battle again.
I clicked my pen closed a little tighter than necessary. I’d told him I’d save his life, and I had. I couldn’t save him from anything else.
I couldn’t even save myself.
He rested his hands behind his head, a move that only served to draw attention to his well-developed arms and pectoral muscles. The man was built like every woman’s dream.
Too bad I couldn’t afford luxuries like that anymore.
Especially not with him.
“Do you want to know what’s happening here?” he asked.
“It defies explanation,” I said, especially what I’d just seen with the knife.
Merde. If I told him about the knife, I’d never get rid of him.
“It’s fate,” he said.
“I’m a woman of science.” Maybe I could dazzle him with my logic. I had to at least try to get some answers from him before I lost my nerve. What was going on with me, well, I’d keep that to myself. “You have pajama bottoms on?”
“Why do you ask?” he prodded, amused and completely unwilling to make this any easier.
Because I was done with this hot soldier wearing nothing but a sheet.
Luckily for me, I saw the start of cotton sleep pants where a fine line of hair on his stomach snaked past his lower hips. “Come with me,” I said, motioning for a wheelchair.
Horace hovered off my left side, frowning.
Tell me about it.
Galen stood easily. He was recovering faster than I’d expected. Good. If I could only hold him off for a day, I could ship him out.