He kissed her one last time, a lingering sweet kiss that put fire in her veins all over again, then surrendered himself to the custody of the nurse waiting outside the door. Ronnie closed her eyes, sighing with relief, and wondered when she heard that distant rumble of thunder.
The sky, after all, was perfectly clear.
* * *
Sam answered the phone, halfway wondering whether Jac had run out of money already. “Hello?”
“How long are you going to hide in the hills and pout?”
She straightened immediately at the familiar sound of her former supervisor, Isaac. Then she bristled. “What difference does it make?”
“What difference can you make? That’s the real question.” Isaac was terse and impatient as always. He was a brilliant researcher, pushed into management against his will. He never sugar-coated anything that had to be said, and he was always in a rush to get back to his lab. The very fact that he’d called made Sam more alert.
“None,” Sam said. “I failed.”
“You failed that time. Since when does a setback mean you give up completely?”
“I don’t think I have it in me to come back to work,” Sam started to protest.
“Bullshit,” Isaac said, interrupting her. “You’re almost as good as me.”
Sam covered her mouth as she bit back a laugh. “Don’t go getting all modest, just because I’m not around to give you a run for your money anymore.”
Isaac snorted and gave as good as he got, just like old times. “You’re intuitive in a way I’m not. That’s how you make up the difference for not being as smart.”
Sam found herself very pleased by his choice of compliment. Being intuitive suited her well. “Thank you very much.”
“Sam, what the hell are you doing? Of course you had to grieve for Nathaniel, but it’s been months. This is the plague of our century. This is the opportunity to make a difference that every serious researcher wants to confront. This is a chance to preserve your name forever…”
“I don’t care about fame.”
“Well, you’ve got to care about something other than your son, but I don’t know what the hell it is.” Isaac dropped his voice. “How about this? We’ve got a new victim, a woman deliberately infected with the virus by one of these dragon shifters.”
Sam exhaled, ignoring how the story tugged at her heartstrings. “I saw on the news. She’s pregnant.”
“Here’s what you didn’t see. She’s a widow with a young son, who might not be much older than Nathaniel was. You want to tell that kid that you’re not going to try to save his mom? I can get him on the line, if you want.”
“Not fair, Isaac. That’s not my battle.”
“A rampant virulent virus, claiming lives unchecked is your battle!” Isaac raged, then his voice dropped low. “At least that was the fight of the Samantha Wilcox I knew. Her son told me once that his mom was a superhero.”
Sam’s tears rose at that. “Don’t, Isaac.”
“Oh, right. You’re not interested in fighting the good fight anymore. You’re too busy picking daisies.” Isaac’s disdain was clear. “Sorry to have troubled you. I can use all the help I can get on this one, because I don’t want Veronica Maitland or her unborn son to die. I promised her son Timmy to do my best, which meant calling you to grovel.”
“You don’t grovel.”
“That’s as close as I get. Derek, by the way, has been back at work for five months.”
Sam ground her teeth at the deliberate prod, but kept herself from saying anything.
“Enjoy your daisies.” And with that last scathing remark, Isaac terminated the connection.
Samantha looked the receiver, everything within her churning. She’d failed. She’d failed the only time it had really mattered. She’d paid a high price for that failure in the loss of her son. She didn’t think she’d ever get over it. She put down the phone and glanced out the kitchen window, toward the haven of Sloane’s house.
Sex in the afternoon was what she needed, not daisies, and certainly not challenges from Isaac.
Especially when they struck a chord.
She called Sloane.
* * *
Something had changed.
Sloane had known it as he and Sam made love. She’d been more vulnerable and more passionate, as if an irrevocable change had taken place.
As if this would be the last time.
He wasn’t surprised when he awakened alone in her bed. He wondered whether she would confide in him, or whether he’d have to tease the story from her lips. If she was hurting, he knew he’d do whatever was necessary to help.
Sam was in her library, and Sloane noticed immediately that she was holding the picture he’d found the first time he’d been in her home.
She spoke, aware of his presence, without looking up. “You’re right to call yourself the Apothecary,” she said and her voice was husky. He watched her slide her thumb across the image of the boy. “I’d never have started to heal without you.”
She turned, her heart in her eyes, and said the words Sloane had never expected to hear. “This is my son. I’d like to tell you about him.”
“I’d be honored to listen,” Sloane said and meant it.
She gestured and he sat in one of the chairs. To his pleasure, she came and sat beside him, perched on the edge of the seat. The chairs were wide but he pulled her into his lap. She tucked up her legs and put her cheek on his chest, the picture cradled in her hands, along with the small gold box. Sloane closed his arms around her, wishing he could protect her from every hurt in the world.
“I never thought I’d be a mother,” Sam said quietly. “I never imagined that would be my life, and it certainly wasn’t something I ever believed I’d be good at. I’m the driven one, the rational one, the scientist, and the one destined for great things. It was my sister who was always going to have a big family, nurture them all and fill her home with love. I was going to work.” She swallowed. “I suppose that’s why I wasn’t prepared. It was my first assignment, on a small team in Africa. We were tracing new outbreaks of something we thought was a strain of Ebola, and ended up in small teams, camping outside remote villages. Derek was my boss. Brilliant, driven. I admired him.”
She pursed her lips and Sloane’s heart squeezed. Was this the part where she admitted that she’d never stopped loving her ex-husband? He both wanted to know and could barely stand to listen.
“I didn’t love him, not like that. It was pure hero-worship.” Sam shook her head. “But there’s a funny thing that happens in close quarters, when you’re tired and stressed and striving for the same goal. Impulses become realities, and not always ones that look good the next morning. We both agreed that we’d made a mistake, and it wouldn’t happen again. Turns out once was enough for a miracle.”
She paused and Sloane waited. “As soon as I knew, I told Derek, and we agreed to do the right thing, for the baby’s sake. I wasn’t sure we could really make a go of it, because my mom always insisted that it was love that made it possible to get a marriage through the inevitable tough bits, but I was willing to try. We got married at city hall and moved in together, and you know, when Nathaniel was born, he was so perfect and so wonderful that it seemed it might work, after all. One thing is for sure: we both adored our son.”
“What was he like?”
Sam smiled. “Oh, he was the sunniest boy ever. He always had a smile on his face. Even as a baby. It was as if he was amazed by the world and delighted to be in it. We realized quickly that he was really clever, and he was put in gifted classes at school. He liked puzzles and riddles. He collected books of jokes, terrible puns most of them, and he was convinced that anything could be built of Lego. We had tons of it. Derek used to say that we should have bought stock in the company.”
She sighed. “My sister loved him, too, and she moved to Atlanta to be closer to us—but really, to Nathaniel. They were buddies, if not partners in crime, and it was wonderful to see them to
gether. She picked him up after school, and had him over for weekends when both of us had to work. She insisted it wasn’t an imposition, and I believed her. I felt glad that I was able to share him with her. He wasn’t her son and it wasn’t her dream of a large family, but it was better than her being all alone. He was crazy about her, too.”
“Weren’t you a large family together?”
Sam shook her head. “No. Derek and I were both working a lot, so the rift between us grew. We really only had common ground with Nathaniel. Derek was still traveling, mostly to Africa, so he was often gone. Before Nathaniel was born, I’d transferred departments and worked for Isaac in the research labs.” She grimaced. “That was about the closest I got to being a doting mother.”
“There’s more than one style of parenting.”
“My way still felt wrong. Derek and I were supposed to take Nathaniel to Seattle on a family vacation. In hindsight, I guess it was a last attempt to get it right. But there was a new outbreak in the Congo, and Derek was gone in the blink of an eye, determined to fight the good fight. The samples were coming into the lab fast and furious, and Isaac thought we were close to isolating the cause. I chose to stay and work, for the greater good. Jac took Nathaniel to Seattle, so he wouldn’t be disappointed.”
Sloane knew what had happened after that.
Sam took a deep breath. “When I arrived here, I wished I’d been the one who’d died. I didn’t want to think about Nathaniel and how I’d failed him. I couldn’t even look at his picture. I believed that I’d been a bad mother, maybe the worst mother possible. I believed that I’d let my son down and really, I couldn’t see the reason why I’d been left to live when he was gone. He was innocent, and I was very guilty.”
She looked up at Sloane. “Until I met you. Until you refused to take my terms and kept asking questions.” She smiled, although it was a pale approximation of what her smile could be. He saw her throat work. “Thank you for helping me start to heal.”
“Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?”
“Because I am. Isaac called me earlier today. He wants me to come back to work.”
It wasn’t any consolation that Sloane had been right: now that Sam was healing, she was going to leave. Their relationship had served its purpose and come to its end, and done so far before he wanted to let her go. He changed the subject a little, because he didn’t want to say goodbye. “I’ll guess that you’re good at what you do.”
Sam looked down at the picture of Nathaniel again and her voice softened. “The thing is that there’s a woman who’s been infected with the Seattle virus by those dragons. She’s pregnant, and she has a son not too much older than Nathaniel was.” She looked up at Sloane. “I want to help her.”
“Not just her.”
“No, not just her, but Isaac’s right. I am hiding. I am refusing to help, and that’s not like me. That’s not why I went to school. That’s not why I worked so hard. Giving up is certainly not what Nathaniel would have expected me to do.”
She revealed that she was holding the gold box that Sloane had seen beside the picture on the shelf. “Jac told me that he admired what I did and that he was so proud of me. So did Isaac. He said that Nathaniel called me a superhero. I never knew that. We never talked about it. Maybe I couldn’t see it for my own guilt.” She opened the box to reveal a gold necklace. It had a gold charm on it, a replica of the Space Needle in Seattle. “He saved his money and bought me this on that trip. Jac gave it to me at his funeral, and I could only see it as an accusation.” She shook her head and her tears fell. “But that’s not what he meant. He wasn’t like that.”
There was a card in the box. Sloane tilted his head to read the childish script.
For Mom -
Wish you were here!
Love Nathaniel
“It doesn’t belong in a box on the shelf,” Sloane murmured.
Sam shook her head, scattering tears. “No. It doesn’t.”
Sloane lifted the necklace out of the box and unfastened the clasp. Sam bent her head and he put it around her neck. The charm fell into the hollow of her throat and she touched it with her fingertips.
“Thank you, Sloane,” she whispered.
“Thank you for confiding in me.” They smiled at each other then he kissed her sweetly and thoroughly.
Sam ran her fingertips down his cheek. “Do you want to buy the house?” His heart clenched as she hurried on. “You said once that you’d thought about buying it, so I thought I’d ask you first.”
Her departure was both quicker and more final than he’d hoped. “You won’t be back?”
Sam shook her head. “I have to go where the work is. Fresh samples and all that.”
“Did you know that you were leaving when you called me today?”
She shook her head again. “No. It just all became very clear to me. I know what I have to do.” She winced. “I’ve been the Magician before, and I know it takes everything I have. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.”
Sloane nodded reluctant agreement.
He wanted to offer Sam a reason to stay, but knew he couldn’t. He wanted to invite her back to visit, to come to his home whenever she wanted, to continue their relationship, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair.
For all he knew, his firestorm could spark next.
He felt her waiting on the invitation and knew the conclusion she’d draw when he didn’t make it.
Maybe it was easier this way.
Maybe it was best.
“When are you leaving?” he asked.
“In the morning, I guess. It’s a bit late to get a flight now, and I have to pack.” She surveyed the room. “You have my email and phone. Let me know about the house. I’ll wait before calling a real estate agent.”
“Thanks.” The silence grew between them and began to turn awkward. Sloane wondered whether Sam had expected more of an argument from him and wished he could have made it. He bent and touched his lips to her temple, and she didn’t pull away. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, one last tear sliding from beneath her lashes. He curled a tendril of her hair around his fingertip, telling himself that it couldn’t be the last time ever, but suspecting that it was. “I should go home,” he murmured. “My guests will be wondering where I am.”
She nodded once. “Thank you,” she whispered again.
Sloane knew what he could promise and what he couldn’t, even if he didn’t like the truth of it. He sighed, then left Sam, aching that he had to walk away from the most promising relationship of his life. Because it wasn’t his firestorm and, just like Sam, he wasn’t going to promise what he couldn’t deliver.
He’d made a difference to her, and maybe that had been the point.
Funny that helping Sam to heal didn’t feel that good to Sloane.
Fortunately, he had work to do.
Chapter Sixteen
It was when Drake was discharged from the hospital, apparently clear of any infection, that he became a thief.
He had time to think in the isolation ward, time to consider his options. It was clear that Jorge had stolen the virus from Sloane in order to infect Veronica. It was equally clear to Drake that he had foiled the Slayer’s scheme before it could do its worst. If he had not discerned the virus so early, Veronica would have been discharged and the Pyr would have gathered her protectively into some private lair. He did not doubt that the mates of the other Pyr would have surrounded her in a gesture of support, and that they would have subsequently become infected. Possibly the children of the Pyr would also become infected, and the Pyr themselves. These illnesses and any deaths could only dishearten the Pyr in this final battle, if not lessen their numbers.
The plan made sense to Drake and was consistent with what he knew of vipers.
The thing was that even though he had kissed Veronica, he had not contracted the illness. They could find no sign of it in his blood. The nurse who had tended to Veronica upon her admission was infected, but not the d
octor—the difference had been attributed to the fact that the nurse hadn’t worn gloves in her initial contact with Veronica’s bleeding fingers. The exchange of body fluids had been proven again to be key to the spread of the virus.
The most pertinent fact was that his mate was infected with a fatal virus, as might his son be. There was no cure or antidote, and Drake had a feeling that the one best qualified to find such a cure was the Apothecary. Sloane’s research, however, was hampered by his lack of a sample of the virus. Drake had tried to visit Veronica while he was in isolation, in the hope that he could obtain a sample by stealth, but the staff were determined to keep the isolated patients separated even from each other until it was clear who was infected and who wasn’t.
Since he wasn’t, he’d been evicted from the ward.
Drake watched through the glass as the staff gathered Veronica’s blood. They were still establishing the protocol of isolation at this hospital and the management of the hazardous fluid that was infected blood. The lab was in the basement, and the samples had to be taken there. He wasn’t as skilled with beguiling as many other Pyr, but he had convinced the attending doctor to destroy the rest of Drake’s blood sample after it was tested for the virus, a small victory in breaking protocol. When these blood samples were moved to the lab, there might be an opportunity to see Sloane equipped with what he needed.
And if there was not an opportunity, Drake would create one.
The survival of his mate and son hung in the balance, after all.
* * *
The orderly got into the elevator with the cart of blood samples, feeling a little creeped out that he’d ended up with this job. He’d worn a HazMat suit to collect them from the nurse and had sealed them into the trolley, and was still wearing three layers of latex gloves and a mask, but still.
This shit might as well be Ebola.
He jumped when a muscular guy stepped into the elevator, just as the doors were closing. It was that partner of the woman who was infected, the guy who looked like a commando and had been in isolation himself for a week.
Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel Page 33
