by RJ Blain
“I haven’t learned a lot, but I might have a few ideas,” I said, turning my attention to Amber’s laptop and pulling up the notes I had typed up. I turned the computer so she could see the screen. “From my understanding, Fenerec don’t get colds normally, right?”
Amber nodded. “Not unless they have the plague.”
“Colds are extremely virulent and they mutate easily. That’s why there are new vaccinations each year for common cold and influenza strains. Ebolavirus Zaire is typically hard to catch. It’s great at killing, not so great at spreading. If the plague was like Ebola, it’d be easy to contain. But it’s more like a cold.”
“I follow. What’s your point?”
“When I stopped trying to look for ideas for a cure, I started looking at the types of diseases and viruses out there. There’s a lot. The really lethal ones are difficult to spread. Bites, contact with fluids, things like that. The ones easily spread are usually not lethal, unless you’re really young, really old, or already sick. A smart virus doesn’t kill its host, not without having time to spread first.”
“Like what has happened with the Fenerec.”
I nodded. “Exactly. So, I started to look at viruses that take over other cells, like AIDS.”
“I don’t see how that’s helpful, Nicole.”
I drew a breath, wondering if my logic was sound, and if my idea could possibly work. With such limited knowledge, the theory was just that—a theory. A gamble. A dim hope. But if the book thought wizards could change things, maybe I could. “What if I can make a cold that kills the plague instead of the Fenerec? The infected Fenerec can catch colds, right?”
Amber stared at me like I had somehow grown a second head. “That’s it?”
Swallowing to ease the tightness in my throat, I stared down at her coffee table and nodded. “That’s the best I have.”
“But it’s such a simple idea.”
“I thought ‘Keep it simple, stupid!’ was a the point,” I mumbled.
“So why did you make that phone call? If you have this idea, why do you need outside help?”
“He’s immune, Amber.”
“You called a True Fenerec.”
“If he’s immune, he’s somehow able to fight off the virus. If I can find out how, and tie it with a common cold…”
“You want to cure the Fenerec with the equivalent of biological warfare.” Amber laughed, but it was a sad sound. “You know something like this has never been done before, right?”
“Do you have a better idea?” I whispered.
“No. Okay, what do you need to do this?”
“I need my father, a cold, and a lot of electricity,” I replied, hoping I could hash together a more solid plan before we ran out of time.
“If you need virulent colds, well, the best place to find those is at the Children’s hospital. There are always sick kids in there, and surely one of them has the latest strain of the cold.”
“A hospital?” I shuddered at the thought of going into a place with so many machines meant to keep people—children—alive.
“I know someone who can help. She’s in the Inquisition and she owes me a couple of favors. Her job is to save kids with weak immune systems from colds. If there’s anyone who can help us, it’s her.”
I hesitated at the thought of putting children at risk, but I nodded. “See if you can get us a date with her, then.”
“What about your date with your agent?”
“I have more important things to worry about.” Dominic could wait—and he would. He wouldn’t like it, but that would be his problem.
“But what about your career?”
I gaped at Amber for a long moment. “What?”
“Your career, Nicole. Aren’t you worried you’ll lose your job?”
Anger stole my breath for several long moments. I forced it back, glaring at the witch until I could speak without my voice cracking worse than it usually did. “Are you implying I’d let a bunch of Fenerec die because I’m worried about my job?”
“I’ve seen your apartment. You’re not rich.” Amber met my gaze. Her expression and bland tone revealed nothing.
“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that. I’m also going to sleep on this couch and you’re going to leave me alone until tomorrow.” I was proud of the way I kept my voice calm. “We’re going to forget this discussion ever happened.”
Amber hesitated before fleeing to a different room in her condo. I turned my attention back to the laptop, so I could make better plans—and charge my crystals.
Unless a miracle happened, I was going to need them.
Chapter Twenty
At six in the morning, I was bleary-eyed and stifling yawns. Amber dragged me into a small children’s hospital on the outskirts of the city. We were met by a young woman wearing a doctor’s white overcoat.
“Amber, it’s nice to see you again, although I wish it were under better circumstances.” The dark-haired doctor didn’t smile, but offered her hand. Amber didn’t smile either. As the two women shook, their eyes narrowed in challenge. A shiver went up my spine.
If the two were friends, their relationship was volatile at best. I made an effort not to stare at them as they faced off.
“Dr. Cerimino, this is my friend, Nicole. She’s trying to develop a treatment for the Fenerec.” Amber reached out, grabbed hold of my arm, and pulled me forward a few steps. “Can you help us?”
“You said you needed samples? I can help, if you think it’ll make a difference. You look young for a doctor, Nicole.”
“Nicole’s not exactly a doctor. She’s a special case,” Amber said, her tone as guarded as her expression. “What sort of viruses do you have?”
“You’ll like this. Please, come with me. You’ll need scrubs and protective gear.”
My eyes widened from alarm. “What sort of virus are we going to look at?”
Dr. Cermino smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about her expression. “Several. The first is relatively harmless. It’s the most common strain of the common cold—influenza, more accurately. The second is more dangerous and it’s what is killing our friends.”
I winced at the emphasis on friends and the cold way she spoke. “You must be among those who would rather see the Fenerec be wiped out, then,” I stated, my tone as frigid as hers. Amber’s grip on my arm tightened and I shook her off.
The woman sighed. “It would solve some problems, but no. I apologize for coming across that way. I’m no friend of the Fenerec, that’s true, but I’m not their enemy either. No one deserves to die like they are. That’s why I agreed to help.”
“This is an Inquisition hospital, Nicole. Earth witches, like Dr. Cermino, both serve as caretakers of the grounds and as our medical staff. This is where we’ve been taking the deceased Fenerec,” Amber explained.
“I’m the only one on staff today, which is why I’m able to get you two in. I hope you have better ideas than we do, because we’re at a loss on how to treat it, if it can be treated.”
“It can,” I said with confidence, although I still hadn’t figured out how the Winter Wolf had cured the plague.
“Good. There’s been enough death.”
Unless I did something about it, there would be many more by the time the full moon rose. I lifted my chin, met Dr. Cermino’s gaze, and waited.
She nodded, spun on a heel, and strode towards the main doors. “I’ll have you wear scrubs and protective gear for the sake of the children. We have a few in residence with autoimmune disorders. It’s cold season, and while you may not feel sick, that doesn’t mean you don’t have something they could catch from you. I’d rather not take any chances with. A simple cold could kill them. Unfortunately, we have to pass through their ward to get to the elevators leading downstairs. Whoever designed this place was a damned fool and an idiot.”
“Better safe than sorry,” I agreed.
“Exactly. It’s been quite the challenge bringing our Fenerec patients in without the Nor
mals being aware of it, especially in their current state. Fortunately, their illness can’t be transmitted to Normals or I wouldn’t have let them in here at all.”
“Has anyone figured out why Normals are immune?” I asked.
“That’s a good question, and one we’ve been looking at, but we don’t have any conclusive results yet. My personal opinion, of course, is that their biological makeup is slightly different than a Normal’s. Witches don’t seem to be able to contract the virus either, fortunately—and no, I don’t know why that is. In Fenerec, there are variations in blood types, organ tissue, and bone marrow. Of course, we don’t get to study Fenerec often, and the cadavers we have are difficult to work with at best.” Dr. Cerimino led us through a twisting maze of hallways and wards until we reached a locker room.
Under her supervision, we changed into scrubs, donning face masks and latex gloves. She changed as well, exchanging her white coat for a clean one, as well as wearing the same protective gear we did. She herded us through another ward, making efforts to steer us clear of the curious children in the halls, who were supervised by tired-looking nurses.
Once in the safety of the elevator, I wasn’t the only one who breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m not taking the bodies out of the freezer. It was bad enough the first time,” Dr. Cerimino warned.
I shuddered. “I’ve seen a Fenerec die from the disease before.”
The woman stared at me, her eyes narrowing a little. “Have you?”
“We were both there when Scott died,” Amber said in a subdued voice.
“Oh. Oh. His was particularly bad, wasn’t it? I don’t envy those doing the autopsies. I just handle the blood work. And it’s interesting. Are you aware Fenerec do not normally fall victim to the colds Normals suffer from?”
I nodded, as did Amber. The elevator dinged before opening to a narrow, whitewashed hallway. At the end was a glass door. We entered a room with rows upon rows of steel doors. I’d never been in a morgue, but I recognized the compartments from television shows.
“Well, when the Fenerec are infected with the virus, they catch them all—several of the victims had multiple strains at the same time. It took a bit of work, but I’ve identified all of the known strains from the bodies we have. Fortunately for you, I had already cultured samples of each of the viruses. I also have a supply of the vaccines used for each of them. Here’s something interesting, though: some of the cold viruses are strains I’ve never seen before. That’s why we’re taking the precautions we are. I have no idea if these strains can infect Normals or not.”
Dr. Cerimino led us to a refrigerator tucked into a corner. She opened it up and started to fill a cooler with sealed petri dishes. We watched in silence.
“Each one of these is marked with the strain, the date it was known to be prevalent, and numbered to match the corresponding vaccination. You’ll want to keep these samples at four degrees Celsius. The main virus infecting the Fenerec should live about fifty days at that temperature in the culture. If you want the viruses to survive longer, keep them as cold as you can.”
“Thank you, Dr. Cerimino. Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything at all?” I asked while Amber took charge of the cooler.
“I don’t know, I’m sorry. All I can say is good luck, you two. Hopefully magic can solve what medical sciences cannot. More of the Fenerec are dying every day. They’re bringing in five new ones who died over night after dark. I can’t imagine it’ll get any better. It’s an endemic virus and it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. If it gets better. May God watch over us all if this mutates and infects Normals.”
Amber shuddered.
“From my understanding, the virus is very similar to Ebolavirus Zaire, isn’t it? That has a seventy percent death rate, right?” I asked.
“Ebolavirus Zaire is a far kinder illness. On the surface, it looks and behaves like Zaire, but in actuality, it’s more like rabies. Without treatment, you die. Unlike rabies, we just don’t have a treatment. Once infected, death is an absolute.” Anger darkened Dr. Cerimino’s expression. “I became a doctor to save people, and we haven’t been able to save anyone—not a single damned one of them. We shouldn’t have to rely on magic to find a cure.”
“But you’re a witch,” I said, unable to keep my voice from cracking. “Does it matter if it a cure is found by science or magic?”
“I was a doctor first,” Dr. Cerimino replied, her voice bitter. “You are seeing someone about your throat, aren’t you? Your voice is really hoarse.”
“Don’t worry,” I muttered, struggling not to snap at the woman who went out of her way to help us. “It’s not contagious.”
“Laryngitis?”
“Or so my physician tells me.”
“Well, if you don’t see any improvement soon, come see me. I may not be the best in my field, but I know my way around ear, sinus, and throat problems.” Dr. Cerimino forced her smile; I could tell by the way her dark eyes remained hard and cold. “Now, I have a job to do, and so do you. I just hope your magic can do something that my science can’t.”
~~*~~
I held the cooler with its precious samples on my lap the entire drive back to Amber’s condo. Would I be able to see anything once we started experimenting? Could I work with the viruses like I did with electronics?
If I focused hard enough, I could manipulate computers, cell phones, and other devices. Once, I even managed to browse the internet without using my keyboard or mouse. It had left me with a blinding headache, but I had managed it. I hadn’t tried again, since it was faster to type, but I could do it.
If I could see the virus, was it possible for me to manipulate it?
I wished for the book would start talking again. Maybe it could help. But then again, maybe it wouldn’t. While it had been particularly helpful as of late, I wasn’t sure what it could do to assist me.
I needed to accept I was on my own, with one small caveat: Amber could help me and what I needed was a fire witch’s ability to see the unseen.
After stashing the cooler in the refrigerator, I got out my folder of notes and started to read. Amber sat down on the couch while I worked at her kitchen counter.
“What’s the plan?” she asked.
I could feel her eyes on me. I didn’t look up, however, numbering lines on the paper so I could match them to the samples. “You’re going to teach me how to see things.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You said fire witches are good at seeing things, right?”
“We are,” she confirmed.
“I can’t see people or animals,” I said, leaning against the counter while twirling the pen between my fingers. “I might have an idea, but I don’t know if it’ll work. Not without the type of sight you seem to have.”
“I’m listening.”
“I can sense electric currents. I guess in a way I ‘see’ them, though it’s more like standing in a breeze than anything else. But when I can feel those currents, I can also manipulate things using those currents. I can turn on televisions and change the channels. I’m wondering if I might be able to manipulate the virus like I do a computer or cell phone.”
“If you can, what are you planning to do? I mean, how does that help the Fenerec?”
“If an infected Fenerec can catch a cold, why can’t a cold kill the other virus? That’s what AIDS does. It targets white blood cells. So if the cold kills the plague, won’t that cure them?” I stared down at the sheet of paper in front of me and wondered if my idea sounded as stupid as I thought it did.
“But how do you make a cold kill the plague virus?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t figured that out yet. I’m hoping my father can help, though.”
“That’s why you called him?”
“He’s immune to the plague. If I can learn to see the virus and colds, maybe I can figure out why he’s immune to the plague.”
“And then use that to cure the Fenerec who aren’t im
mune?”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”
“Well, it’s the best idea we have. It’s hard to describe how I see things. I’ll do my best, though.”
“That’s all we can do at this point, isn’t it?” I asked in a whisper.
“It’s better than nothing.”
~~*~~
Amber wanted to shower before we settled down for serious work, so while she was occupied, I made use of her phone. I called my father’s travel number. For a few tense moments, I didn’t think he was going to answer.
“Desmond,” my father said in a breathless voice.
“Are you coming?” I rummaged through the fridge, pulling out one of the three plague samples Dr. Cerimino had given us.
“I’ll be on Flight 6628, arriving at four.”
Stifling a groan at the conflict of time with my appointment with Dominic, I made a thoughtful noise. Losing the job would hurt my bottom line—and likely ruin any future work with Dominic, but I’d figure out something to do with myself after I saved my family. “I’ll be there,” I promised.
“Don’t be late,” my father ordered before hanging up on me.
Wrinkling my nose at his commanding tone, I glowered at the phone before setting it on the counter next to the plague sample. My father hadn’t asked for my description. Would he be surprised when he learned I was no longer the mirror image of my sister? Would he see my scars and determine me marred and worthless as a result?
My scars and voice were the proof I wasn’t perfect and never could be.
All I had left to do before I could focus all of my attention on the plague was telling Dominic I couldn’t meet him. Grinding my teeth at the unwanted chore, I dialed his number.
“Dominic speaking,” my agent answered.
“Hey, it’s Nicole. I’m not going to be able to come this afternoon. I have to pick someone up at the airport.”
“More family troubles?” he asked in a concerned tone.
“Unfortunately.”
“I hope everything works out. Any chance you could swing by my place at noon or so? I have some papers you must sign, and they can’t wait.”
