Brit didn’t respond, but it took every ounce of self-control to stop herself from watching him leave. She needed to stay focused. Kel didn’t have any problem with eyeing him as he walked out to the point of twisting her body. She held the string of a colorful Mylar balloon that boasted a big festive THANK YOU on the front with FOR NOT DYING scribbled in black marker underneath.
Typical.
Gideon followed Brit’s gaze to the floating atrocity and shook his head. “She would not be swayed. Can we see Katya?”
Brit nodded and motioned for the pair to follow her. Inside her exam room, they’d exchanged the simple padded cart for a more comfortable bed. A laptop lay closed on a side table, and Forestor had managed to get them a fetal monitor to keep a closer eye on the baby. The rapid swishing of the baby’s heart could be heard just beneath the sharper beat of Katya’s heart monitor. Katya was curled up on her side beneath the blankets, with Raife stretched out in a chair next to her, half on the edge of the bed, one big arm extended over the top of his mate’s head as though to protect her. Although Katya didn’t move, Raife’s eyes immediately fixed on Brit from the moment she appeared in the door. He dropped his gaze to the papers in her hand before meeting hers again.
The weight of her responsibility pressed down heavier, and she had to force herself to breathe. She half expected to feel Tag slip into her mind and offer her his sarcastic version of support, but there was nothing. She was alone.
It wasn’t as much a relief as she’d thought it would be.
“I brought a balloon,” Kel whispered with a grin, jerking the absurd offering in front of her.
“That’s real classy, Sheridan,” Raife said softly and chuckled, but there was little humor in the sound. His gaze found Brit again. “Those the results?”
“Yes.” Brit lifted the test results to read through them again. “The transfusions are helping, but they are only a temporary fix.” She and Kahn had collected blood from Raife as soon as his body replenished it to a stable point, but even Raife’s body was weakening. A venous infusion of Raife’s blood was the only treatment they found that slowed the degeneration and bought them time to find a more permanent solution.
Gideon was frowning down at Katya’s pale face tucked into Raife’s shoulder. “She looks to be getting worse. What is happening to her?”
Brit cast a questioning glance to Raife.
He nodded. “They’re family.”
Brit flinched, pulled her jacket closed, and crossed her arms over her chest. Her exclusion from that family was obvious, and it hurt.
Focus on the science.
Her purpose here was to fix the damage she’d caused. “While Katya was at the Triumvirate lab, she underwent a genetic experiment to infect her with the ARSA genome. That’s the gene that evolved due to the blood magic. The Triumvirate is trying to replicate it and find a way to infect the unaffected Arcane, including or maybe especially Drachon.” Brit sighed and stepped forward to check the strips from the heart monitor. Katya’s heart rate was still irregular, but at least it wasn’t deteriorating further. “Katya was administered a synthetic form of the gene, but it mutated. I believe it happened once she mated. Now her body is attacking the cells that were reproduced after the mutation.”
Kel lost her grin, and the balloon slipped through her fingers. “As in
all
the cells? It’s killing her?”
Brit nodded, weariness weighing her down.
“Can’t you get rid of the mutation?”
“I can’t remove it. It’s a part of her DNA now,” Brit said with a shake of her head. “I’m searching for a means to repair it and even suppress its expression. The same genes can express themselves in different ways depending on a multitude of factors,” she explained when she saw the confusion on their faces. “I can’t remove the gene, but I can attempt to stop it from acting the way it does.”
“What about the baby?” Gideon’s face had darkened, shadows shifting in his obsidian eyes. Brit often wondered about the man, but he hadn’t allowed her so much as a drop of his blood since he’d arrived.
Brit looked at the display on the fetal monitor. The bleeding had stopped, and the pregnancy seemed stable now. The baby’s heartbeat stayed strong, and Katya didn’t complain of any cramping. Kahn assured Brit that Drachon pregnancies made the mother tougher and more resilient. It may be why she’d managed to survive so long. “It’s a Drachon baby.”
“If he’s anything like his dad, he’ll be a stubborn ass.” Kel smiled, but it didn’t light the darkness of her eyes.
“So her test didn’t show any change.” Raife’s jaw flexed, and he pulled the blanket up around Katya’s shoulders. She stirred, her pale eyes fluttering open and focusing immediately on him. The two stared at each other for a long time before Katya lifted a small hand and cupped his cheek. The obvious dedication and love between them was tangible, instead of explanations of hormones and endorphins running through her brain. Brit just ached.
“Get it done, Doc,” Katya said weakly with an encouraging smile. “I’ve got work piling up in the lab, and if I know Tag, he’s breaking things that will take me forever to fix.”
Brit nodded. She wanted to find a cure—wanted to give them their lives—and not for any drive to find the scientific solution. No, for once she wanted to be able to believe in something more than facts and figures. She wanted to be able to hope. “I’ll never stop until I make this better.”
Katya’s eyes met hers, and she nodded. “I know.”
“So what about my tests? You said you thought my body might create a solution.” Raife helped Katya to change her position on the bed, tucking the blankets around her again.
“I’ve done a comparative analysis of your blood from the samples we’ve taken over the last several weeks.” Brit glanced at the printouts, although she already had them committed to memory. His blood count was rising in an effort to meet the need of Katya’s transfusions, but otherwise there was nothing special of note. To be honest, she wasn’t quite sure what she had expected. The answer to Katya’s mutation just floating in his blood?
Brit stiffened, the papers hanging from her numb fingers as she immediately brought up her cataloged images of his previous analysis in her mind and compared them to his most current. Elevated white blood count.
“Doc?” Sheridan prompted.
Why would a Drachon have an elevated white blood count? Weren’t they immune to disease and infection?
“Britony, can I help with something?”
Brit turned to face Kahn where he stood at the door. “I’m not confident in my knowledge of Drachon physiology. Are Drachon susceptible to illness?”
Kahn frowned and glanced around the room at the audience before he returned his gaze to her. “Drachon don’t suffer from diseases or viruses, human or otherwise, if that is what you mean.”
What would cause a Drachon’s immune system to kick in and produce an increased white blood count? It could possibly be a biological reaction to the stress he was under from his worry for Katya.
Kahn’s dark eyes narrowed as he searched her face.
“I’ve never known a Drachon male to have a high white count.”
“An elevated white count could be the result of any number of things despite its rare occurrence in Drachon.”
“Not rare, Britony, unheard of,” Kahn muttered as he read over the results again. “Are you sure there wasn’t an error?”
Brit drew herself up. As if. “I do no not have errors in the lab, Dr. Jennings. However, there is more of each sample for you to repeat the test if you like. I don’t think it wise to let the past set a precedent considering a mating between a Drachon male and a female of another species has also been
unheard
of until recently.” That sizzle of excitement she associated with a new discovery crackled up her spine.
“Can you tell me what the hell you’re talking about?” Raife stood over Katya, who grabbed his hand to calm him.
Brit assured him in that composed tone she’d cultivated over the past several years even as her mind sparked with possibilities. “I’m not certain at this point, Agent Merrick.” Could it be a virus? A new virus with a key to repairing her mutated gene? “However, your body is having a reaction of some kind, which can be good news.”
“If he’s having some kind of immune reaction, that means he’s getting sick. How can that be good?” Sheridan propped one fist on her hip.
“Up until this point, Agent Merrick’s body has changed and adapted to accommodate the needs of Katya’s. I can only hope that this new change is for the same purpose. A virus could be a very good thing.”
Sheridan swiveled her dark head to Kahn. “Translation?”
“I believe what Britony hopes for is that Raife’s body is producing a virus that carries the DNA to repair Katya’s mutated gene.” Kahn’s brown eyes sparkled. “If that is the case, we had better get to work.”
Chapter Seventeen
Gideon blinked and looked at the cell phone buzzing at his belt. He could clearly see the display. Forestor.
It made him feel weary. Yet the locks of white-blonde hair that curled around Raife’s fingers reminded him of something that made him feel infinitely worse. Little Katya with her wide innocent eyes and incredible untapped power. Gideon felt the memories of another pair of innocent eyes rise in him, and as always, they brought a swirling blackness. Fury. Pain.
Too dangerous for one such as him. Better to keep the memories buried. Duty— duty would keep him centered and grounded into this world.
“Get well, little sister,” Gideon murmured and nodded to Raife. The redheaded doctor stood off to the side, shadows beneath her eyes. Her focus was intent, unblinking, and on little Katya. For once the new big male Drachon that stalked her every step was not present.
Gideon glanced down at his phone again.
Vincent Jennings was likely the reason for this call. It was just as well. Now was not the time to talk to the doctor anyway. He would never detract from the little one’s treatment—not for any reason.
Kyeros Forestor, the owner of Incog and this building, kept offices on a lower floor. He was unlike others with power Gideon had known, but then Kyeros Forestor was not just any kind of power.
Gideon stepped into the man’s office and pulled the door shut. Forestor stood at the windows behind his desk, hands clasped at the small of his back. Vigilant. As always, the whimsical image of a watchtower standing in the shadows rose in Gideon’s mind.
“I need you to follow Vincent Jennings again.”
“Of course.” That wasn’t surprising. Forestor had had him follow the shady Drachon earlier.
“It is important the Drakes are not aware of it. Dr. Jennings is the returned prodigal son, and they will not appreciate my…caution. The last thing I need is to be at war with the Drachon.” Forestor turned, and Gideon was struck again by his dark stare. This man may have been removed from his rightful place in the Arcane, but the act did not remove the power from him—or his drive to protect the Arcane.
“I understand.”
Forestor looked down at his computer, the screen facing away from Gideon. “He is heading toward the east alley door now.”
Gideon nodded and slipped back out the door as silent as he’d come. Being able to access the veil between this world and the next was his gift and all he had left from his chosen. They called him a ghost, and the description fit. He felt as insubstantial as the specter he was named for. Just enough of him remained to be seen, and yet not enough to truly live in this world.
Following the Drachon was easy. Gideon eased inside the veil and walked free and unseen down the street behind the man. He was careful to keep enough distance. Many could sense his presence even when he was cloaked by the veil, and he did not want to attract this one’s attention. The veil could hide his body but not his mind, and this Drachon was one of the most powerful telepaths Gideon had ever come across.
Vincent Jennings moved efficiently and steadily down one street after another until he approached a dilapidated building. It was in a rundown neighborhood, and the ground floor looked to have been a grocery store at one time with a green-and-white-striped awning that hung in shreds over the boarded front door. The steel-chain gate was firmly lowered over the entrance. Gideon glanced up the side of the building. Most of the windows were broken out behind the bars. If it wasn’t condemned, it should be.
The Drachon walked around the side of the building to the alley and advanced on a side utility access door wide and tall enough for trucks to have once delivered stock. The Drachon leaped easily to the concrete dock and gained entrance into the building after keying in a code on a hidden pad. Gideon waited for the span of a moment before sinking deeper behind the veil and following him.
Although unassuming with its tiled floors and brick walls, the small entry did not show the lack of care of the exterior of the building. Particularly since it sheltered another door, this one a heavy steel with a biometric security access panel. Gideon frowned. Someone had valuable secrets with the money to protect them.
Before he walked through, Gideon stared at the high-tech security panel that required an eye scan to open. Regardless of where he’d been, the mysterious Drachon was involved somehow.
Inside, marble floors stretched silent and shadowed in either direction, the brick walls lining either side of a hall of doors. The neglect of the outside was obviously there to detract attention from whatever this building actually housed. Where had the Drachon gone?
Trusting instinct, Gideon went right and slowly moved down the hall, feeling very much the ghost he was often likened to. He hadn’t gone far when the strains of conversation reached him. The two men were standing in what appeared to be an office.
The Drachon was agitated. His hands clenched. A tall slim man stood with his back to him. There was something familiar about the way the other man held himself, but Gideon stayed back and still. This room was not tiny, but the strong essence of the men permeated it, and Gideon could not risk being sensed by getting too close.
The familiar man turned, and Gideon retreated into the veil until the walls of the room nearly faded. He could no longer hear the voices of the men, but the staccato of his own heart pounding with a ferocity hammered in his ears. It was that sound that held him on the edge of the precipice yawning behind him. The pain and grief swelled up, filling his throat and nose with an icy thickness until his chest clenched with the need for breath. For life.