by Maira Dawn
After Jorah left, Skye told Mako what she could about what Devon had done to her.
Mako nodded as she pulled out a small tool and waved it over Skye’s body.
Dylan looked over the woman’s shoulder, trying to read what it said, but even the letters were strange to him.
Mako called two of the other medical people over and spoke to them in Atlantian before turning to Skye.
“I am afraid this will be a little more invasive than I like to be. Not too bad though, rather like those IVs that your people like to poke others with.”
“And it will cure me? Of everything?”
Mako held up the small device she had just been using. “Our word for this is “healer” in English. It is small and good for small injuries. There is a larger one. You will lay on the table below it and it will move over you.”
Mako paused as if reading Skye’s reaction. When it seemed Skye accepted the course of treatment, she continued.
“We will also give you a medication that will rid your body of all the poisons the crazy Human gave you.”
“And then I will be cured? For real?”
Dylan squeezed Skye’s hand.
Mako gave Skye a strange look. “Of course, for real. What else is there? I do not pretend to cure people.”
“I’m sorry,” Skye stumbled over her words. “I didn’t mean—I saw people dying horrible deaths and thought that was my future.”
Mako smiled and patted Skye’s shoulder. “I understand. That is because you come from up there.” She shuddered. “Here in the sea, we do miraculous things. Don’t worry, little one. You will be cured—in less than an hour.”
“Thank you!” Skye turned to Dylan, collapsing in his arms.
Dylan dropped into the closest chair, taking Skye with him. Relief had left his legs weak.
He buried his face in Skye’s silky, dark hair, and whispered, as much to himself as to her. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay now.”
Forty-Six
Free
Dylan watched Skye climb up on the healing table, smiling when she gave him a little wave. The ache in his stomach had evaporated like a morning fog when Mako said they would cure Skye. And it wouldn’t be a long drawn out procedure, but quick and easy.
Who knew what else these strange people could do?
Once Skye settled in for treatment, Mako moved to a nearby table and waved Dylan over. “Could I examine your injury?”
Dylan nodded. As he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, a familiar bite of unease slid over his skin. He never liked displaying the scars covering his body.
Mako’s eyes narrowed, her gaze instantly going not to his fresh injury, but the old ones. The scars that told the sad story of childhood. She reached out and lightly traced the thickest of them, the knife wound that ran from his back to his belly, but she said nothing.
Instead, she removed his bandage and examined the bullet wound.
The hole in Dylan’s side looked every bit as bad as the last time he looked at it. Pus oozed from the inside and redness encircled it.
Dylan prepared himself for the pain of being poked and even worse, getting it cleaned out.
Mako grabbed the small healer off a side table and held it over his injury. She looked at the wound a few times as she tapped the healer’s small screen, then held it a couple of inches from the liquidy mess.
The gaping wound shrank in size.
Dylan jerked, almost jumping off the table. What was this thing doing to him?
“Was there pain?” Mako asked in a surprised tone.
“No. It surprised me, is all”.
“You must be still,” Mako commanded.
Still unable to believe what he was seeing, Dylan asked, “What are you doing?”
“Clearly, I am healing your wound.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that. Now, be still.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dylan watched as the hole the bullet had torn through his body got smaller and smaller. “Well, I’ll be,” he murmured.
“I’ll be what?”
He looked up at Mako, confused for a moment, and laughed. “No, just I’ll be. It’s something we say.”
“It makes no sense.”
“Nope. None, but it fits.”
Mako shrugged off her confusion.
When she lifted the healer, Dylan ran his fingers over the small ridge still left on his stomach.
“It’s like it was never there.”
“Clearly, it was there. A scar is still left. But I can erase that too if you wish.”
“Yeah, erase it.”
“I was unsure as I have heard that Human males take great pride in their scars, and you seem to have many.”
Dylan looked down at what his lifted shirt revealed.
Cigarette burns, thin whitish strips, and that thick long knife scar. Battle scars, yeah. But not the type she assumed.
He had survived his step-father’s abuse, and that was something to take pride in, but otherwise, he hated the marks. Each one a horrible memory forever engraved on his skin.
For as long as he could remember, Dylan had avoided mirrors. Looking at them made him sick.
“These ain’t anything to be proud of.”
Dylan tried to console himself for the millionth time the only way he could. They were part of what made him—him. Without them, who was he?
“Dylan.”
He didn’t want to look at the doctor. Dylan couldn’t hide the shame he knew would shadow his eyes, and the only person he revealed that to was Skye.
“Dylan.” Mako’s usual clipped tone became warm and understanding. “The healer can erase them all if you wish.”
His gaze flew to hers. Could that be true? Would he be able to stand proud before Skye without the sins of his father written all over him?
Tears flooded his eyes and though he tried to contain them, one ran down his cheek. He scrubbed at it, lowering his head.
“Tears do not need to be hidden from me. Emotions are something all people share, especially Atlantians. Did you know that we literally share each other’s emotions? Can even send ours out to others? So, you see, I feel your pain as if it were my own, and your desire to shed the past.” Dylan looked up to see the tears in her eyes. “You have powerful emotion, Dylan.”
He gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I have a hard time reining them in sometimes.”
She tipped her head. “Who are you, Dylan Cole?”
He understood what she asked.
“I’m a father who’ll be better than the one I had. Someone who tries their best to love, care for, and cherish not only my beautiful Skye but my entire family.”
“A good man.” She nodded. “A family man.” She leaned a bit closer. “What do you want?”
His voice wobbled a little as he answered. “To look in the mirror and see that man—not the one my step-father tried to create.”
“Then lay back and allow the healer to reveal that man.”
Mako started with the bullet wound, erasing that from his skin as easily as his teacher had wiped a chalkboard. Then she moved on.
With each one, a memory returned. The belt that broke the skin, the scorching burn of a cigarette, the swipe of a knife that narrowly missed killing him.
As Mako went from one to the other, the memories lingered. He let them, thinking on them one more time before he put them all away forever.
When the doctor finished, he ran a hand over skin as soft and taut as a newborn babe. And where some men would have been ashamed of such fine skin, Dylan smiled with pride.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I ain’t ever going to forget this. Never.”
Mako put a light hand on his arm and gave him another warm smile before going back to her normal quick manner. “Just doing my job. Isn’t that a human saying too?”
Dylan gave her a quick grin, knowing it had meant more to her than that. “It is. Seems to me, you’ve got a pretty nice job.�
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“I agree, Dylan,” she whispered to him. “But do not let others in on that secret. The harder I pretend it is, the more the others leave me to it.”
She straightened, put a hand to her hip, and scanned the room. “It looks like some of our guests are ready for the rooms I had prepared. Skye is still undergoing treatment. If you wish, you may go to her side, and when her treatment is completed, we will give you a room where you can wash and change clothes. I need to prepare for the council meeting.”
Mako clicked her tongue. “Oh, a woman’s work is never done.” She looked at Dylan. “Sonora taught me that one, and I am in total agreement with it.”
Dylan laughed and sincerely thanked her again before making his way over to Skye.
As he strode across the room, Dylan wondered at the difference in himself. He felt taller with each step, like a man who had broken the chains of his past.
He felt free.
Forty-Seven
Grand Plans
Skye eagerly awaited the last long swipe of the healer. The darkness hovering around and in her, the last few days was gone.
She smiled up at the medical assistant who ran the machine, grateful for these people and this technology—neither of which she had known anything about a few hours ago.
It still boggled her mind that an entire race of people had lived on this earth for centuries, and almost no one had known.
Skye eyed a weapon a guard left leaning against the corner of the room. If they had this kind of medical technology, what was their weaponry like?
Skye turned her head toward Dylan as he walked toward her. There was something different about him—though she couldn’t put a finger on it. Happier perhaps?
When he reached her, he took her hand and kissed her forehead.
She locked gazes with him. The dull sadness that always lingered in the back of his eyes was gone. Not tamped down, not pushed to the side so he could enjoy the happiness of the moment, but truly gone.
“Dylan?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
He still leaned over her, grinning at her as he ran a hand along her hair.
“Something is different,” she said.
“Sure is, but we’ll talk about that later. Right now, I want to be sure this thing completely healed you.”
“I feel good.”
“That’s what I wanna hear, darlin’.”
There was a click as the nurse returned the healer to its original position.
“It is finished,” she said with a smile.
“Will I need any kind of follow-up?” Skye asked the nurse as she sat up and ran her hands over her arms and stomach.
“No. It is gone now—completely gone.”
Skye shot Dylan a joyous glance before enthusiastically thanking the nurse. She refrained from jumping off the table, but put one foot then the other onto the floor with care, testing her damaged ankle. It was as strong as it had ever been.
She took Dylan’s arm and leaned against him, not because she needed to, but because she wanted to.
Later that evening, Skye and Dylan sat with Wade, Jesse, and Kelsey in an apartment-like dwelling given to them for the duration of their stay when Ian and Sonora stopped by.
Skye invited them to sit around the thick, wooden antique table that she couldn’t get enough of. She ran her hand over its pristine surface.
“Did you enjoy your meal?” Sonora asked, seeming a bit anxious.
“I sure did,” Wade replied. “After I made sure I wasn’t going to be fed anything still wiggling.”
Ian chuckled. “I can assure you most of our food is well cooked.”
“Good to hear.”
Ian changed the subject to the matter at hand. “The council has met, and as expected, we will join the battle against Devon and his army. We have made the decision to leave in the morning.”
“I would’ve liked to be at this meeting,” Dylan said, with a frown.
“It is rare for an Atlantian other than a council member be admitted to a meeting, let alone a Human. And there was not much of a question of what the decision would be.”
Skye grabbed Dylan’s hand and squeezed it. “We are grateful for the help. A larger force means fewer injuries on our side.”
“With so few of us, it would’ve been a hard fight,” Dylan admitted.
“There is one thing we need to discuss,” Ian said, eyeing Dylan. “Our weapons.”
“Okay.”
“We will set our weapons to stun—unless forced to use stronger.”
“Stun?”
“A person stunned will remain that way for hours. It will give time to get them jailed.”
Dylan’s frown returned. “I don’t want to sound merciless, but what do we do with them then?”
“We ask that you let us care for the situation. Those who can be rehabilitated will be. Those that refuse will be dealt with.”
Dylan disagreed, but Skye stopped him. Remembering Sydney, she told him, “There are good people caught up in this mess that I think will be just as relieved as we are when it is over. We should give them one last chance.”
“My people will handle this. You will be free to go back home as soon as you would like.” Ian eyed Dylan, waiting for his answer.
Dylan looked at Wade, who said, “I got less mercy than my brother, but if Skye says there are some good ones in there—I believe her.”
“I agree with Wade,” Dylan added. “Jesse?”
Jesse, who had closely followed the conversation, perked up. “Yeah. I agree.”
“Kelsey?” Dylan asked.
“Same here.”
Dylan nodded at Ian. “Reckon we’re all in agreement then.”
“That is good,” Ian said. “Let us review the battle attack.”
The plans were simple. The Atlantians had more power behind them than anyone would ever have dreamed. They would attack from the front—straight on and plow their way through the building.
Dylan’s group, along with another group of Atlantians, would pick off stranglers.
Skye stood. “Now that’s taken care of, why don’t I bring out the dish of what I can only assume is a dessert that someone left in our refrigerator—if that is what you call it.”
Sometime later, Ian and Sonora left for their own home, and Wade, Jesse, and Kelsey went to their rooms, leaving Skye and Dylan in the living room.
Dylan turned to Skye with an almost shy expression. “Darlin’, we haven’t had a minute to ourselves, but I have something—Mako did something I never thought possible at the infirmary today.”
Skye moved closer. Whatever this was, it meant a lot to him. “What did she do?”
“It’s better if I just show you.” Dylan raised the edge of his shirt.
Skye’s gaze followed the edge of the material to the bullet wound—or what used to be the bullet wound. She touched her finger to the spot. It was nothing but smooth skin.
“Wow, it’s like it was never there. That’s great, Dylan.”
“That’s not all.” He raised his shirt higher.
The thick scar that had curved around his back had disappeared too.
“Dylan?”
His smile of absolute delight was contagious and had her grinning too.
She ran a hand over his once damaged skin, pushing his shirt out of the way so she could see his entire chest, then back.
“The scars are gone—totally gone!”
“Yep.”
Skye sobered for a moment. “How do you feel about that?”
“Kinda amazing.” He ducked his head. “I keep checkin’ to make sure I didn’t dream it.”
“Oh, Dylan! I’m so happy for you!”
He nodded, a smile still lighting his face as he scanned the room’s furnishings.
“Things are nice here. Best I’ve ever seen. The people are good too.”
Skye followed his gaze, appreciating the gleaming antiques that Ian had explained were castoffs from the world above that Atlantians lovingl
y brought back to their former glory. “It’s true.”
“And all the technology they have. It would sure make livin’ easier, especially now our world is no longer . . . right.”
“A few of their inventions could really make a difference.”
“And it’s safer here. Safest place on earth, I reckon.”
“I feel like it is.”
Dylan was quiet for a moment as he studied Skye. “You deserve this. I see Sonora—how happy she is here, how secure. You deserve that too.”
He stood and moved to the large window, staring out into the sea. “I just don’t know if I can do it.”
“What are you talking about, love?”
“Ian took me aside. Told me how close you were to dying and said you could be safe here. For our entire lives, if we want. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. Don’t tell me it’s not.”
Skye’s heart skipped a beat. Dylan was right. From the moment the AgFlu had started it was her only goal—get to safety and stay safe no matter the cost. But she hadn’t yet achieved that—maybe never would up on land.
But here? She stared into the ocean, then slowly turned to scan the beautiful home again. Something comparable to the lovely home her mother kept and could afford to with all their millions.
The opportunity to stay overwhelmed her. Jesse and Kelsey could heal from their trauma. The calm atmosphere would also be good for Dylan and Wade.
Her sweep of the room eventually brought her back to her fiancé and what he offered.
Dylan, clad in jeans and a t-shirt with his scruffy face and shaggy hair, the way he stood, the way he talked. Everything about him proclaimed his heritage.
Mountain man. Her mountain man.
He glanced at the water outside the window and his expression seemed sad.
“I just don’t know if I could do it,” he repeated. “But I’d try for you. I’d try anything for you. You know that, darlin’, don’t you?”
Her eyes flooded with happy tears. This man, who had risked his life and braved the enemy to rescue her, was now willing to turn his back on his beloved home to make her happy.
“Oh, Dylan. I love you.”
Skye wrapped her arms around him. When she pulled back, she caught his resigned expression as he threw another glance at the ocean.