by fox, angie
If he'd only gone the first time. If only I could have let him go this time without having to restrain him.
If only he hadn't touched me.
He was the most unhelpless tied-up guy I'd ever seen. Now he was out there somewhere putting together the pieces of what had happened on that operating table. It shook me in a way that I hadn't been, not in a long time.
But what I'd done was right. I'd saved both of us from a world of hurt. I ended this pursuit of a doomed prophecy that could only serve to expose me. I'd kept Galen of Delphi from learning anything else, and I'd be rid of this knife as soon as I could find our resident exorcist.
Then I could rest easy to night. I hoped.
In the meantime, I lowered my sunglasses, stretched out my legs, and leaned back in my chair. "Wake me when you catch the big one."
"You're the Sleeping Beauty of the swamp."
I sank back, becoming one with the chair. "Just as long as I'm sleeping."
Our roommate, Marius, had left his German club music on inside the footlocker that doubled as his daytime coffin. Again. And even if I lowered the light-blocking shades, it's not like I was really up for cracking the lid and waking the vampire to make him to turn it off. I could still hear the thump-thump techno beat from our tent at the far end of the swamp.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to turn a deaf ear. "How does Marius listen to that junk?"
"Got a few pennies? We can have Horace blow his speakers."
The warm sunlight seeped into my skin. "I'm done offering Horace pennies," I said, refusing to move a muscle.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere near those speakers," Rodger mused. "It seems like every creature with a nose has been able to scent me lately."
Yes, well, love is not telling your friend that he smells. "I don't know why you even bother fishing for sea serpents," I said, changing the subject. "They taste worse than mess hall food."
"They make cute pets."
If you liked scraggly, nibbly little dinosaurs. Rodger had at least six. I shuddered to think what would happen if Marius ever caught on. If I were a psychologist, I'd say the wee beasties were an unconscious replacement for the four pups and a wife Rodger had left behind in California.
We weren't allowed to keep pets—or ship them home. Not since a sea serpent got loose in Loch Ness.
Colonel Kosta, our camp commander, was a real hard-ass. The old Spartan liked to sleep on a plank of wood and ran the camp with ironclad efficiency. He was squarely on the side of duty and order. I was on the side of whatever kept us sane.
Rodger's chair squeaked as he leaned back. "Nice job on the kraken in the shower, by the way."
"Oh, it wasn't my kraken. I just moved it." Kosta had already showered. Ugly sucker—the kraken, I meant. Well, Kosta, too, come to think of it. "Whoever did it needs to pay attention to the colonel's schedule." He was long gone by the time they'd dumped the adolescent sea monster into shower stall three.
We had a bet going to see who could prank Kosta first. It started off with just me and Rodger, then the nurses, then the motor pool. That's when the stakes went way up.
"What's the pot up to now?" Rodger asked.
"Three weeks, one day, six hours, and twenty minutes." Army money was useless unless you were headed to the officers' club. So we bet what really mattered—time away from this joint.
Rodger whistled under his breath. "You don't want to know what I could do with that."
"Make more pups?" I asked. I couldn't resist.
He grinned. "Mary Ann and I wouldn't mind trying."
His face fell and I knew he was thinking about his wife. There was nothing I could say to make it better, so I kept my mouth shut. Sure, I missed my old life in New Orleans, but Rodger had a wife and family. He'd been here for three years with no hope of ever seeing his kids again.
The army granted each soldier twenty minutes topside for every year served. That meant in the last three years, Rodger had earned an hour of vacation. Regulations prevented anyone from cashing in leave until they had a week. It would take more than five hundred years to get that kind of break.
So if we couldn't spend it, we bet it. Pretty much everybody in camp had put their leave minutes into the pool. Whoever succeeded in pulling one over on Kosta would get the whole pot.
Kosta knew it, too. That's why he was so hard to get.
I listened to the bubbling tar and focused on the warm sun against my face. I was nearly, maybe, possibly asleep when a cool breeze whisked against my shoulder. It almost felt like the winds off the river back home until a bony finger dug into my arm.
"Oh, Petra..."
I was instantly awake—a trick I'd learned in residency.
"He's back," Horace said.
I got a sinking feeling in my gut. "Who's back?"
The orderly hovered at my left, the wings on his ankles fluttering like hummingbirds. "Your balls-to-the-wall special ops patient," he said. "The ambulance broke down."
"For the love of the gods." I sat up.
"I never heard of that," Rodger said, his fishing pole braced between his knees, a mess tent coffee cup in his hand. "The EMS fleet is in top shape."
Rodger was right. The army took impeccable care of equipment. We couldn't afford for something not to work.
I shuddered to think it, but, "Did Galen break it?"
"Who?" Rodger gave me a look like I was the crazy one.
Horace crossed his arms over his chest. "Imps nesting in the engine."
I felt my jaw tighten. "Put him on the next one."
"They did," he said, managing to sound both superior and offended. "That one ran over a horny-backed boar. The pig is fine, but the ambulance blew out two tires. Then they used the smaller ambulance."
My belly sank. "The one that holds four patients?" I knew where this was going.
"He didn't fit."
I dug my fingers under my sunglasses to rub at my eyes. "Let me guess. The smaller ambulance left without a hitch."
The sprite nodded.
Cripes.
Rodger's bushy eyebrows wrinkled like he didn't get it. "I saw Commander Galen this morning. He's fine. He can recover here."
No, he couldn't. "He's a troublemaker," I said in the understatement of the year.
Rodger settled back into his chair, tugging on his fishing pole. "He seemed okay to me."
"What do you know?"
"I know enough to keep my foot out of the popcorn bowl."
"Sorry." I moved my foot and sat with my elbows planted on my knees. "Maybe I can put him on a chopper."
"The winds are coming up," Horace said, scanning the horizon. "Nobody's flying."
"Of course they're not."
Besides, I didn't want to break any choppers. The ambulances were bad enough.
I eased the knife out from under my chair and stood.
"Hey, where you going?" Rodger asked.
"I'm going to see Galen of Delphi."
Chapter Five
Galen lounged in bunk 22A, chest bare, waiting for me.
Part of me was almost glad to see him, which was ridiculous. I was in charge of this operation, not him. At least I hoped that was still the case.
I made my way down the long row of beds, nerves hammering even as I tried to retain the aloof casualness that had served me so well throughout my career.
If I had any less pride, I'd be cringing.
I took his chart off the end of his bed. "Heck of a day. You must be tired."
His strong jaw flexed. "You wish."
Okay. I probably deserved that. "What can I say? I'm used to running the show."
"So am I." I saw a glint in his eye. A challenge? Oh hell.
I replaced his chart. He was healing well. No signs of infection. With any luck, I could ship him back to his unit in the next day or two.
And he would be sent into battle again.
I clicked my pen closed a little tighter than necessary. I'd told him I'd save his life, and I had. I couldn't save
him from anything else.
No matter how much he fascinated me.
He rested his hands behind his head, a move that only served to draw attention to his well-developed arms and pectoral muscles. The man was built like every woman's dream.
Too bad I couldn't afford luxuries like that anymore.
Especially not with him.
"Do you want to know what's happening here?" he asked.
Not particularly, but that wasn't going to stop him.
"It's fate," he said.
"I'm a woman of science." Maybe I could dazzle him with my logic. I had to at least try before I lost my nerve. "You have pajama bottoms on?"
"Why do you ask?" he prodded, amused and absolutely unwilling to make this any easier.
Because I was done with this hot soldier wearing nothing but a sheet.
Lucky for me, I saw the start of cotton sleep pants where a fine line of hair on his stomach snaked past his lower hips. "Come with me," I said, motioning for a wheelchair.
Horace hovered off my left side, frowning.
Tell me about it.
Galen stood easily. He was recovering faster than I'd expected. Good. If I could just hold him off for a day, I could ship him out.
"I don't need a wheelchair," he snorted, towering above me. I stared straight into lean, hard muscle. And at that moment I saw, too, the absurdity of cramming this powerful soldier into a chair.
He looked like he could wrestle a minotaur. Still, if I wanted to get him out of here, I had to follow protocol. "It's the only way you're leaving with me."
He gave me a faint salty smile. "Are you sure about that?"
No. "Listen." I lowered my voice. "You want to talk, right? Well, then I've got to get you somewhere private. In this." I pointed to the wheelchair, the other hand balled into a fist in the pocket of my scrubs. "If anyone sees you walking around, you run the risk of getting sent back to your unit, with or without any interference from me. And you know what? I'd be just fine with that." I'd fall down drunk with relief. "So if you want to talk, get in the chair."
The corner of his mouth tipped up. "Do you know your cheeks flush when you're angry?"
"Can it. Five more seconds and I walk."
If I didn't know better, I would have sworn I saw a flicker of surprise. He stared at me for a long moment, almost daring me to bolt before taking two powerful strides in the direction of the feeble chair. "Shall we?" he asked drily, sprawling over it like a king at court.
Good enough for me. I grabbed the handles and steered His Highness down the long hallway toward the door, ignoring the catcalls from the soldiers.
The doctor needs to see you alone?
Have fun with that exam.
Ask her if she makes house calls!
I'm next!
Galen grinned like he was in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I, on the other hand, blushed down to my toes. Didn't these guys ever grow up?
Didn't they see that I'd won? I'd gotten my way. Galen was going outside with me, per regulations.
So why did I feel like I'd just handed him the battle?
Jaw clenched, I focused straight ahead as I steered him toward the door. What I had to say to the commander was better said in private. There were very few options if you wanted to be alone in a MASH camp. Walking was one of them.
Maybe it would even clear my head. Over the years I'd made a habit of wandering the red dirt paths. It was the only place to go. Outside camp was too dangerous, what with packs of imps on the loose. Not to mention enemy patrols. And if you could manage to avoid those, you risked sand traps that could swallow a person faster than quicksand.
Besides, the camp walkways weren't half bad, especially in the evening as the twin suns set. It was cooler then, with fewer people rushing around.
At last, we made it out of the recovery tent.
"That was brutal," I said as the door slammed closed behind us.
"Best time I've had all month," Galen said, throwing an arm over the back of the chair. He gave me a conspiratorial grin. "Maybe I should start letting you order me around."
I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the road. Once I got him somewhere private, it would be worth it.
We passed the supply hutch. Naturally the female clerk had to whistle. Then there were the two nurses at the bulletin board, who openly nudged each other and smiled.
What was with these people?
"Hey, Petra," one of the nurses called, "where are you taking that half-naked demi-god?"
"Mind dropping him off at my place?" the other one said, giggling.
What? My stomach twisted. "He's not—" Merde. Yes, he was half naked, and had somehow managed to look both gorgeous and in charge. I didn't know if I wanted to slap him or kiss him.
"Sorry ladies," Galen called, "I'm all hers to night."
"Stop encouraging them," I hissed.
"It's true," he said, to them and to me.
"Yes, but not the way they...forget it." I said, wheeling him faster.
I headed for the shadows, past the rectangular shack that served as the officers' club. The tin roof was loud as heck during the monthly rainstorm, but it gave the bar its bite. Large gutters funneled down into tanks that captured Hell's Rain. Rodger had measured it at 180 proof. I didn't like to touch the stuff. Only now it didn't sound half bad. If anybody could drive me to drink, it was Galen.
Maybe I should have stopped for a glass because horror of horrors, Colonel Kosta emerged from the shadows, coming our way. Oh, this was just great.
Colonel Kosta held himself impossibly erect, shoulders squared, his shaved head gleaming under the outside floodlights. An angry scar cut down his right cheek and over his mouth and chin, a souvenir from the Battle of Thermopylae.
Maybe he'd let us pass. I gripped the wheelchair handles tighter. It's not that I'd necessarily be in trouble. But I didn't want any questions, either.
Leaning down, I whispered against Galen's ear, "Be casual."
I could feel him grinning. "What? Do you want me to take something else off?"
Maybe I'd died and gone to hell. I tried not to let my mortification show, which was probably impossible.
Kosta's sharp gaze lingered on my patient as he passed. "Evening, Robichaud."
"Colonel," I said, straightening. Maybe I could just be struck by lightning and be done with it.
Somehow—I think I blocked it out—I managed to get Galen past the medical supply tents, past the enlisted Club, the general supply depot, and the ambulance lot. The suns had almost set and the motor pool was lit with lanterns and torches. A few mechanics had a jeep up on blocks and were working underneath.
One of the smart alecks called out to us as we passed, "You two going to see the good father?"
"At least I've been invited, Lazio," I shot back.
Galen drew a hand through his short spiky hair. "Something I should know about?" he asked, watching Lazio chuckle with a few of the mechanics.
"Oh, it's dumb." Which is what made it kind of fun. "There's really nowhere to be alone in a MASH camp, so when people want to get a bit amorous, they head back to this huge outcropping of rocks past the cemetery and beyond the minefield."
"Minefield?" He sounded surprised.
"That's what we call the junkyard. I mean, you can't let frisky couples sneak in and out of there without wiring the place with a few pranks."
He seemed amused at that. "And couples? They still risk it?"
"For half an hour alone? You bet."
"How romantic."
"I wouldn't know." Now, why had I told him that?
"Anyway, our chaplain has a hut out that way. He likes to minister to the semi-demonic creatures, try to help turn them around. As you can imagine, they're a bit reluctant to show up in camp during office hours."
I parked the chair. Galen was up and out of it before I could even get the emergency brake on. I let it slide. We were finally alone. Now I just had to think of exactly what to say to the man.
The torches cast an uneven light as full night came upon us.
His back muscles bunched as he squinted out past the cemetery, toward the mounding scrap yard beyond.
"Believe it or not, there's a path through it," I said. "Toward the end, you come to a fork in the road. Go left and you come up on Father McArio's hut. Go right and it's make-out city."
"Ahh," he turned back to me, eyes glittering, "so when you want to be alone with your sweetheart..."
"You just invite them out to see the good father."
He gave me a long look. "And what does your camp commander have to say about that?"
"As much of a hard-ass as he can be"—and Kosta definitely took pride in driving us to our limit—"he ignores the junkyard and the rocks." It happened outside the main camp. Besides, the old Spartan knew when to throw us a bone.
Galen had fallen silent. Thinking, no doubt. No good could come of that.
"You have a target range?" He indicated a series of lumps in the field beyond the motor pool.
My voice caught. "That's our cemetery."
He didn't get it right away. "Soldiers are cremated."
"Yes." Demi-gods were lit upon a funeral pyre, as tradition demanded. "These are the doctors and the nurses. Mechanics and clerks." These were the people who never made it out of limbo. Someday I'd be one of them.
He studied the crude wooden tombstones. We couldn't exactly quarry stone, not with a war going on. But we did get a monthly shipment of wood.
"We're here for life, too." Or until the end of the war. "Families can claim a body, and the army will ship one of us home. Those without families stay here."
My throat closed.
His eyes cut to me, as if he knew what I'd been thinking.
"You are one of the ones staying."
I tried to smile and failed. "Yes."
I didn't have anyone left. Well, anyone who knew I had a supernatural side.
My boyfriend during med school had been a shapeshifting dragon. Marc had been drafted by the old gods while he was still in his surgical fellowship. He'd been killed almost immediately.
My dad had been human. He'd kept my secret almost too well. He'd told the family I'd gone off to serve the poor in Haiti. A necessary lie. No one in my extended family knew about my mother's fae nature, or my military service for the new god army. Now, with Dad dead, there was no one left even to know I was here.
