“Oh yes,” she says enthusiastically, dropping carefully onto the couch beside me. “Diogo told me you came back with a child. I can’t wait to meet her. I miss Blaze so much, it’ll be nice to be around a child again.”
I take her hand and squeeze it. “It must be terrible being away from your son for this long.”
She smiles at me. “Not terrible… more of a wrenching feeling when I think of him. A sort of a good kind of missing. I’ve never been away from him, so I’m a little anxious that he’s getting everything he needs, but I trust the people I left him with. He has Doctor Bishop and a couple of friends to keep him company. Diogo and I have spoken with him over your radio almost every day since we’ve been here.”
“I’m surprised your overprotective Warlord would let you go up to our radio tower,” I say with a laugh.
She shrugs and reaches for a bowl on the table next to the couch, picking up an apple and taking a big crunchy bite, before answering. “He knows better than to get between me and my son. He also knows that if he forbids me from using the radio, I’m going to climb your wall until I reach the tower, pregnant or not.”
I laugh and shake my head, then glance around for her conspicuously absent husband. “Where is Warlord Diogo?”
“Napping.” She takes another bite of her apple.
“Napping?” I say incredulously. “As in sleeping?”
She nods. “He’s been so worried about the birth that he hasn’t been sleeping at all during the night. He just paces and watches me. I’m not sure what he thinks will happen, but I guess since he missed the last birth, he’s determined to be here for this one.”
I shudder as I think of what happened to my sister when she gave birth to my nephew Blaze. One of her husband’s warriors kidnapped her. A man who had become obsessed with my sister and her unborn child when he saved her life. He’d been unhinged, and sadly took his own life seconds after Taran gave birth, leaving her alone, soaked in blood with a brand new infant.
I hug Taran tight and say in her ear. “You’re going to give birth surrounded by your family this time.”
She holds me tightly and whispers, “There’s nowhere else I want to be.”
I realize how lucky we are to find ourselves in this position. Four years ago, neither of us knew the other was alive. We were living our lives in our separate Sanctuaries. Through chance, Taran was brought to my Sanctuary and sold to me.
From there, we reunited, and our relationship has only grown stronger. That she came to me while I was sick and in need of family attests to our strong bond. And soon, she will give birth, surrounded by the people she loves.
I swallow my tears as I pull away from her and say in a husky voice, “I have to go.”
She looks disappointed. “But you just got here. I want to hear all about New York.”
“I’ll come back tomorrow, I promise. There’s a situation at the hospital that I have to look in on.”
She nods knowingly. “Your Primitive experiment. I heard Hannah is doing better.”
“That’s more than I know,” I admit. “I need to get up to speed and make a few decisions.”
“Diogo has been going down to the hospital daily, checking on things and helping the staff.”
I stare at my sister and then shake my head in wonder. “You’ve had an amazing influence on that man.”
She smiles and rubs her stomach. “He’s always had compassion in him, he just needed me to beat the obstinance out of him so he could see it.”
I laugh and push myself off the couch.
“I’m not getting up,” she says, blowing me a kiss.
I laugh and leave, meeting Kingston in the hallway. As we enter the stairwell, Wolfe greets us.
“You’re coming?” I ask.
He nods.
“What about Nova?”
“Asleep,” he says, then adds, “I left someone nearby in case she needs anything.”
“A soldier.”
He nods.
Of course he left a big, fearsome warrior with the little girl. Then, she spent a week travelling with a group of us. The soldier might be just what Nova needs. Someone who will chase away her monsters.
Forty
I force my exhausted brain to work as we walk toward the hospital. We decide to leave the vehicle behind in favour of some exercise after more than a week in the car.
“We need to find a new doctor,” I say as we approach the brightly lit building.
“There’s always Dr. Starr,” Kingston points out.
“Is he still a bigoted asshole?” I ask.
“Does it matter? We need a doctor and he’s had training. He was doctor for the Sanctuary before you replaced him with Dr. Summers.”
“How many women go to see him?” I ask. “How many are uncomfortable speaking to a man who thinks our gender is only good for producing babies? No, if we make that man the head doctor of our Sanctuary, we’ll lose women to childbirth and other preventable issues because they’ll avoid going to see him. Trust me, I know.”
When I was part of Silas’ harem, I didn’t once go to see the doctor. When I tried to talk to Silas about him, my concerns were shrugged off. He was Silas’ personal physician and the one to diagnose Silas’ tumour. Silas trusted the man.
“Then what would you suggest?” Kingston asks. “We can’t go long without a head physician. Eventually someone will need surgery.”
“Dr. Starr is still taking patients and can take the bulk of the work until I figure out a solution, but I really think we need to find someone who is compassionate. Not someone who will allow their biases to influence the way they practice medicine.”
As we enter the hospital, we’re greeted by the harried looking head nurse, Jessa Albright. She smiles tiredly as she approaches.
“I was told you would arrive soon. I’ve cleared my schedule if you’d like me to come along to the research lab.” She nods toward a younger nurse. “Henry has the desk covered.”
“You’re the one who has been caring for the Primitive subjects?” I ask as we make our way toward Dr. Summers’ lab.
She nods. “Yes, I took the responsibility personally. I worked with Dr. Summers when she was creating the experiment. I knew what to expect and didn’t want to put any of the hospital staff in danger.”
“Dr. Summers won’t be coming back,” I say, swallowing the ache that threatens to rise in my chest. I remind myself that I haven’t lost Sheela, that if we can establish an alliance with the eastern Sanctuary, I might be able to talk to her again. “We’ll have to figure out how to close the lab.”
Jessa looks at me with sadness. “Such a shame. This experiment has real potential. It should be expanded, not shut down.”
I frown as we walk. “My understanding was that the Primitives went through extreme pain as their body and organs purged the virus. It doesn’t seem worth it to continue experimenting.”
“They were in pain,” Jessa acknowledges, pushing open the door to the lab and holding it for the three of us to walk through. “But they say its worth it.”
“Who says?” I ask, confused.
“All of them.” She says it as though I should know what she’s talking about.
“I need you to explain what you mean,” I tell her, turning to the glass cage where Silas should be.
Seeing it empty, I reach for my weapon and glance around the room. Wolfe and Kingston pull weapons as well, but Jessa holds her hands up.
“Sorry, I should have warned you,” she explains. “I moved Hannah and Silas in with the others. They all craved company, and I wanted to see how they would interact with each other. Come,” she says, moving toward the opposite door. “They’re through here.”
I toss Wolfe a concerned look as we move through the lab. He shakes his head and edges in front of me as we follow Jessa. I’m starting to doubt her ability to care for the Primitives. These creatures are violent and dangerous. If they can’t find human prey, then they’ll turn on each other. Putting them in a
room together is extremely irresponsible.
Yet, as we walk through the door, I’m confronted by a scene that is barely recognizable.
All three of the original Primitives, including Silas, are sitting in a group together talking and eating from trays in front of them. At the table with them is a wan, but recognizable Hannah.
They turn to look at us as we enter their space.
I feel Wolfe twitch next to me, stopping himself from raising his weapon.
There’s no cage between us and the Primitives. No locked door. No restraints. If they rushed at us now, we might lose someone to them.
But far from attacking, they look surprised to see us. Each with a varying expression of wariness.
Slowly, Silas rises from the table, his eyes locked on me.
“Skye.”
His voice is clear and unmistakable.
I take a step toward him, but Wolfe’s hand comes down on my shoulder, stopping me.
“Silas,” I say his name in wonder, looking him over.
He seems almost… healed.
He still has scars from his ordeal as a Primitive, but the skin is healthy and pink. His nose has partially grown back giving his face an almost normal look now. His hair looks clean and soft, and an outfit of soft cotton pants and a T-shirt has replaced his tattered clothing. He looks younger and healthier than I’ve ever seen him.
Silas’ eyes crawl up and down my body, then land on the hand on my shoulder. His eyes narrow and he looks at Wolfe, but he directs his words to me. “I was told you are the new Warlord.”
“Yes,” I say, trying to erase the uncertainty from my voice as I speak. I’d been taught to show him respect, to defer to his decisions. It seems strange that our roles have reversed, but as he looks at me closer, I see an approving glint to his gaze.
“You deserve the role,” he says. “You cared about the people of this Sanctuary.”
“I still do,” I tell him, shaking off Wolfe’s grip and stepping closer. My eyes sweep the table, landing on the female subject first. She now looks healthy, almost completely human.
The last of the three Primitives is younger than the others, maybe even a teenager. He doesn’t look as good as the others, but it’s clear he’s recovering.
“My name is Regan,” the young man says in a quiet voice.
I turn to him. “You remember your name?” I ask curiously.
“I remember… everything.”
I stare at him. “Everything?”
He nods, but instead of answering, Silas answers for him. “Everything from before the bite, everything as a Primitive and everything after the injection.”
Pity rises up as I realize the implications of what he’s saying. If the memories of a Primitive remain intact, then some of the core personality might remain as well.
Silas answers before I can ask the question. “It’s like being trapped in your own mind. Knowing your primal urges are wrong but helpless to stop yourself from committing atrocities.”
The pain in his voice strikes at my heart.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I whisper. “You weren’t to blame for any of what you did.”
He doesn’t accept nor deny my words, instead continues to stare at me bleakly.
The moment between myself and my ex-husband feels intimate, and I can tell by the stiffening of his shoulders that Wolfe feels it too.
I decide to move the conversation back into neutral territory. “May I sit down with you?” I ask.
Varying expressions of shocked pass across the faces of the former Primitives before Regan hurriedly pulls a chair out for me. “Most people don’t want to get close to us.”
I smile kindly at him. “Let me know if you feel the urge to bite. I can move pretty fast.”
He laughs, then cuts himself off, looking surprised at himself. I suspect humour hasn’t been part of his life in a long time.
I take my seat while Wolfe and Kingston move in behind me, protecting me. Jessa moves closer to the table but doesn’t sit.
I look at the female. “My name is Skye. What’s yours?”
She stares at me with large eyes before darting a look at Silas. He nods, giving her permission. I suspect he’s fallen into the role of informal leader of the quartet.
“My name is Belle,” she whispers, pulling her feet up onto her chair and wrapping her arms protectively around her legs.
“How old were you when…?” I need to ask the questions, but I don’t want to upset these people.
We’re in a strange in-between zone. They used to be human. Then they’d been infected by the Necrotitis Primeval virus. Now they appear to be cured, but how much of the Primitive remains, we still don’t know.
“I was thirty-nine when I was bitten,” she admits.
I stare at her and then glance at Wolfe, who is staring hard at the woman. Belle doesn’t look a day over twenty.
“And you?” I ask Regan.
“I was twenty-seven.”
Again, he looks much younger than his years.
I look at Hannah, who I know is forty-three. A few years younger than Silas. Upon closer inspection, despite her appearance of being recently ill, she looks younger.
Hannah doesn’t look me in the eye, nor does she speak to me. She looks listless and lost, alone at the edge of the table. As though she’d been invited to be part of the group but was reluctant to join them.
Jessa steps forward, looking around the table while directing her words at me. “Before she left, Dr. Summers made a few notes about the possible restorative effects of Necrotitis Primeval. Prior to this experiment, we thought the virus halted aging, but now we suspect it does more than that. It may reverse some of the aging process as it repairs any trauma the body experienced.”
“When I was a child, I fell from a tree and broke my arm,” Regan says, some excitement in his voice. “We didn’t live near a Sanctuary, so my parents set it themselves. It never quite healed properly. Then, when I was bit, the bone felt as though it re-knit itself to be stronger.” He sticks his arm out for all of us to see. “Now there’s no sign it was ever broken. Not even a scar.”
I’m bewildered by what this new development could mean and how we might use it when Kingston speaks. “Makes sense, I think. What did the doc say are the three purposes of biology? Food, water and reproduction. We have to be in peak physical condition to find all three. If the virus requires the body to be strong in order to compete for resources, it might heal old wounds.”
“Or new disease,” Silas interrupts quietly.
“Your tumour,” I say.
He nods. “Gone, I think.”
We’d discussed this possibility with the doctor before her disappearance, but having the confirmation is stunning.
There’s so much to explore with these new possibilities, but for the moment, the most pressing issue seems to be what to do with our freshly turned back ex-Primitives.
“How would you like to get out of this hospital?” I ask the group.
They’re excited by the idea and I task Kingston with finding an appropriate place to move them. A place where they can make a home.
As we leave the lab, I realize I have one more stop to make before I can go home and go to bed. Looking up at Wolfe, I say, “I need to go to the jail.”
Forty-One
Wolfe elects to speak with the chief of our city force as I make my way to Scarlett’s cell. He doesn’t say it, but I know he thinks he’ll kill her if he gets too close. I’m not entirely sure I won’t do the same. She betrayed me to the Outsiders, and she gave up our doctor to another Sanctuary. No amount of explaining will absolve her guilt, but I still need to understand.
I nod at a guard who unlocks the door and allows me into the room with Scarlett’s cell. I spot her right away, sitting on a bed and playing with her hair, brushing her fingers through the length. She looks up, surprise creasing her expression as she recognizes me.
She pushes herself off the bed and stands, walking slowly toward th
e bars.
“I wondered if you would come see me.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I admit, standing opposite her with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Why did you come then?” Her tone is resentful.
Rather than answering right away, I look her over. She seems frailer than I remember, diminished. Her clothes are filthy rags and her hair hangs dully around her dirt-smudged face. None of her former beauty is visible. I know she hadn’t been mistreated as all prisoners are fed regularly and given water for washing. She has chosen this appearance. Perhaps in an attempt to gain sympathy.
I don’t know and I don’t particularly care. I’m here to cast judgment, but there’s something I need to know first.
“What happened to Deacon and the rest of the vaccine team?”
She blinks a couple of times as though unprepared for the question.
“I told you what happened. We were attacked by Outsiders.” She edges closer to the bars. “What are you going to do with me, Skye? I need to know. I’ve been in here for days.”
I ignore her question. “I want you to recount in detail exactly what happened to Deacon. You told me the Outsiders killed him. Did you see his body?”
Scarlett huffs out a breath and says, “I don’t know. They shot at us and we were forced to abandon the vehicles. Deacon was hit so I assume he didn’t get far.”
“You didn’t see a body then,” I say flatly. Though hope for Deacon flares in my chest, I’m so thoroughly pissed off at Scarlett that I want to reach for my weapon. If she’d told me he was injured, I would’ve sent a search party out for him. “What happened after the vaccine team fled?”
She shrugs and drifts away from the bars, moving to the bed and sitting. “The Outsiders grabbed me.”
I can guess what happened next. “You told them about my immunity to the Death Kiss to stop them from… what? Selling you? Fucking you?”
“Both,” she admits. “I made a deal. If I could get you outside the Sanctuary where they could grab you, then they would take me to a Sanctuary of my choosing and release me.”
Skye's Sanctuary (The Sanctuary Series Book 5) Page 23
