Lovers Sacrifice

by R. A. Steffan

  The man—oh, god, the man—jerked his hand back in surprise, his blue eyes wide. He blinked in confusion, and then seemed to shake off the odd moment. “Best move away from the rubble,” he said. “There, uh, must be some exposed electrical wires here…”

  Of course, that was complete rubbish, since a glance showed that the power was out in the entire area. And both Xander and Duchess were still staring at her, damn it.

  “Oksana?” Duchess prompted.

  Not. Now. Her mental reply was unnecessarily harsh, but she could feel cold sweat popping out on her forehead, and the same claustrophobic feeling that had swept over her inside the collapsed building was returning. She tightened her shields further, trying not to succumb to sudden, irrational panic.

  Xander’s green gaze pinned her for a moment longer before he turned his attention to the doctor. He held out his hand. “Sorry—I didn’t catch your name, sir.”

  For the briefest of instants, the Australian hesitated, but then he grasped Xander’s hand in a firm grip.

  “Dr. Mason Walker, of Doctors Without Borders,” he said as they shook.

  “A pleasure to meet you, the unfortunate circumstances notwithstanding. My name is Xander. This is Duchess, and our pint-sized search and rescue expert here is Oksana,” Xander said gesturing to his companions in turn.

  “I’m more than pleased to make your acquaintance,” Mason replied, making no comment about their unusual names. “Not many people would have offered to help strangers in such a way.”

  He shook Duchess’ hand next and lowered his proffered arm awkwardly when Oksana gave him a small, painfully self-conscious wave of her fingers instead of offering to shake.

  “Hi,” she said, relieved when the word didn’t emerge as a ridiculous, high-pitched squeak.

  “Hi to you, too,” he replied, looking at her curiously. Her skin tingled where his eyes moved over it.

  Spirits have mercy on her.

  It took Mason a moment to tear his attention away, and she almost sagged in relief when he did.

  “The clinic building isn’t safe,” he said as he turned towards a group of nurses nearby. They were all tending to children that had been pulled from the rubble. “We need to come up with some sort of alternative place to shelter.”

  “What sort of clinic is this?” Duchess asked, clearly thinking about Eniel’s obvious fear of them.

  “My colleagues and I help with the rehabilitation of child soldiers,” Mason said. “It’s a serious problem in Haiti these days.”

  Duchess made a noise of pain. “Child soldiers? Mon Dieu. There is truly no end to the depths to which humanity will sink.”

  “We all do what we can, where we can,” Mason said, sounding like a man who had lately spent too much time plumbing those dark depths.

  Oksana could sympathize. With a flush, she realized she was still staring at Mason like a slack-jawed crazy woman. She snapped her mouth shut and looked away before he could notice.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him gesture them to follow in the same direction the nurse had taken Eniel. A group of children was sitting on the ground in an area that was relatively free of rubble. Some were crying quietly; others seemed to be in a complete daze.

  Right now, she felt a certain kinship with the latter group, to be perfectly honest.

  Nurses were moving from child to child, reassuring them and tending to their injuries. Mason joined them, leaning down to speak with each child as he inquired about their wellbeing. Again, Oksana’a gaze was drawn to him without her conscious volition, following his every movement. She was so engrossed that she jumped a bit when Duchess appeared at her shoulder.

  “Talk to me,” her friend said in a voice so low that none of the people around them except Xander would be able to hear. “Are you all right?”

  Was she all right? Oksana had to swallow back a laugh that would have emerged sounding more than a little hysterical.

  “No,” she managed. “All right is not the description that comes immediately to mind.”

  FOUR

  DUCHESS NODDED, AS IF that much had been obvious. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked instead.

  Oksana thought about it for a second and sighed. “No, I just need to think. I don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s not the time.”

  Indeed, as if to underline the words, a small aftershock rocked them. Cries from the terrified children rose into the night sky. Oksana looked up for a moment—after crawling through the wrecked building, the view above was stunning, unimpeded by clouds or haze. Stars winked peacefully down on the scene of fear, pain, and chaos below.

  After a last unhappy look at Oksana, Duchess turned her attention to practicalities. “What are the options for temporary shelter?” she asked Mason.

  He looked up from the boy he was examining. “There are a couple of possibilities. I’ve got Joni working on it now. First things first, though. We need to get a head count and make sure everyone is accounted for, then search if anyone is still missing.”

  Xander spoke up. “We aren’t very far from the beach here. It’s not safe. My friends and I were just going to try and find out if there’s risk of a tsunami when your nurse found us.”

  Mason nodded. “I sent Evens to watch the tide as soon as the trembling stopped. Our radio got flattened under that section of collapsed roof, so we’ll have to keep tabs the old-fashioned way. If the water recedes, he’ll report back and tell us, so we can make a run for it before it washes back in. As soon as these injuries are treated I’ll send the children to higher ground as a precaution, but I’m not leaving anyone behind unless it’s life or death.”

  Of course, Oksana thought. Of course he had to be competent and handsome and compassionate… and oh dear god, what am I supposed to do now?

  Her traitorous undead heart stuttered as Mason rose and turned to her. She tried to tear her gaze away from his, but it felt like her eyes were glued to the man now pulling out a notepad and pen from a pocket in his scrubs.

  “Here,” he said, holding them out to her. “Would you mind taking down every child’s and staff member’s name? I’ve got a couple of people I still need to treat here. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, though.”

  “Of course,” Oksana managed, taking the offered items. She was careful not to let their skin touch as their fingers came close to one another.

  She worked her way through the group of people, putting a mark on everyone’s left hand as soon as she recorded their names. After several minutes of walking around, she had a full count of every child and adult.

  As she worked, she could intermittently feel Mason’s intrigued gaze resting on her. Doing her best to ignore him, Oksana checked in with one of the nurses.

  “How many of the children are injured?” she asked, poised to take notes.

  “Just over half,” the young Haitian man said, “but all except a few are minor injuries. Mostly cuts, a few sprained wrists or ankles, and a couple of possible fractures. Nothing more than that, thankfully. We were lucky.”

  She jotted down the final notes, tallied the number of children and staff, and managed to paste on an encouraging smile for the young man.

  “I’m glad to hear it wasn’t worse,” she said.

  Dreading it, she crossed the impromptu triage area and approached Mason. He was watching her, a thoughtful expression clouding his attractive features. Before he could speak, Oksana held out the notepad.

  “I think this is everyone. They pulled another child out of the rubble a few minutes ago. Mostly minor injuries, thankfully.”

  A crease formed between his eyebrows in response to her clipped tone. Oksana couldn’t help it; there was no room left in her mind for friendliness or an upbeat demeanor in the face of the darkness surrounding her. It pressed in on her as surely as the confining tunnel under the rubble had pressed in on her earlier.

  Basic politeness was about all she’d be able to muster until she’d had a chance to get away for a bit and
think. She had to keep her distance from this dangerously alluring doctor until she could sort things out in her mind and deal with the emotions that were threatening to swallow her whole.

  As if on cue, Xander swooped in on the conversation. “So, everyone’s accounted for, then?”

  “Yes, thank heavens,” Mason said in clear relief, glancing over the notepad.

  “Good news,” said Xander. “What’s the plan now, Oz? Where can we take this lot to keep them safe tonight?”

  Mason’s eyes lingered on Oksana for a moment before he turned towards Xander and spoke. “Joni managed to get a mobile signal out, and we’ve arranged for them to be temporarily housed with the American Red Cross. They’re setting up tents near the city center.”

  “Americans?” Xander asked without enthusiasm. “Well, I suppose needs must. Is it far from here?”

  “It’s a little over two kilometers away. Most of the roads are closed, so we’ll have to walk, but the distance isn’t what I’m worried about.”

  Duchess had joined them in time to hear that last exchange. “And what are you worried about?” she asked.

  “Port-au-Prince is dangerous after dark,” Mason said grimly. “The city has been experiencing an upswing in violence recently. No one really knows what’s going on, but we suspect that some soldiers from the rebel movement have penetrated the center of the city and are causing havoc to de-stabilize the area.”

  Xander’s knowing green eyes flicked to Duchess, and then Oksana.

  “Yes. Well,” he said, his tone mild, “we do seem to live in interesting times these days, and I mean that very much in the Chinese curse sense. I imagine that the addition of looters and opportunists after the quake won’t improve the situation, but we can’t exactly stay here.”

  “And we’ll be traveling in a large group,” Duchess added. “That should help.”

  Mason’s eyes took the three of them in. “You’re willing to assist us in getting the children relocated, then? You’ve already been an immense help tonight. I can’t reasonably ask you for more of your time, but—”

  Duchess waved him off. “Some of these young ones have sprained ankles and other injuries that will prevent them from walking. You need all the help you can get.”

  Mason’s reply was heartfelt and utterly without artifice. “That I most certainly do, Madame. I’m in your debt—all of you.”

  Oksana swallowed around a hard lump that either wanted to be a laugh or a sob—she wasn’t sure which. In our debt, indeed. Would you still feel that way if you knew the truth, I wonder?

  “Right,” Mason said, oblivious. “Let’s get this parade underway.” He put his fingers to his lips and let out a loud whistle. Silence fell as all faces turned towards him.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he called in a commanding tone. The sound of his voice sent a shiver down Oksana’s spine, and she cursed herself for it. Mason continued, “We have a shelter available in the center of the city. Unfortunately, we don’t have access to any vehicles right now. We’ll have to walk.”

  A few of the boys nearby made disparaging noises as they clutched injuries to their feet and ankles.

  Hearing them, Mason turned and gave them a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, mates, we’ll make sure you get there in one piece. We have some wonderful volunteers who helped us get people out of the wreckage of the clinic. They have agreed to stay and help us tonight. Anyone who needs a lift, raise your hand. Don’t be shy!”

  The group started clambering to their feet, nurses helping those who could hobble on one leg. Xander walked over to a small boy who was crying silently on the ground with his hand raised, clutching a swollen and bandaged ankle with the other hand.

  “Looks like you could use a ride, huh?” Oksana heard Xander ask. The boy nodded as he continued to cry.

  Xander gently scooped him into his arms and turned to Mason.

  “This lad barely weighs anything, Oz,” Xander observed.

  “Maybe right now he doesn’t. He had some health challenges to overcome when he arrived, but we’re going to build him up,” Mason said. “Isn’t that right, Cristofer?”

  “Yes, Dr. Walker,” the boy answered in a tremulous voice.

  Mason picked up another boy, and the male nurse Oksana had spoken with earlier took a third. After a brief mental exchange, Oksana pulled a dagger from the hidden sheath at the small of her back, while Duchess pulled one from her boot. The two of them took point, while Xander dropped back to take rear guard. He still carried Cristofer and did not draw a weapon, but with his keener senses and vampire reflexes, he would be able to alert them to anyone approaching from behind long before any of the humans noticed.

  Mason came to an abrupt halt upon seeing the lethal dagger held in Oksana’s hand. Had she been human, she would have flushed under his disbelieving regard—and once again, she was immediately angry with herself for her subconscious reaction.

  “Is there a problem, Docteur?” Duchess asked coolly. “I believe you were the one concerned about the children’s safety, given the increase in violence in the city, non?”

  Mason blinked, his eyes flicking from Oksana to Duchess, and back again. She got the feeling that he was assessing them, trying to determine if they actually knew how to use the weapons in their hands. After a moment, he purposely relaxed his shoulders.

  “No bloodshed, please, unless it’s absolutely necessary to defend the group,” he said, speaking English—presumably to avoid frightening the children.

  Duchess smiled dangerously, not quite wide enough to expose her fangs. Oksana sent her a quelling look, but she only raised a perfectly plucked brow in response. “Really, Docteur. Whatever do you take us for?” she asked, all innocence.

  Mason stared at her for a moment longer before breaking his gaze away. He addressed the group, giving them the directions to the Red Cross camp where they were heading. Smart, noted an objective part of Oksana’s mind. That way, if anyone gets separated, they’ll know where to head for safety.

  The group got underway, and after speaking quietly to several of the nurses near the front, Mason dropped back to walk near the rear of the group. Keeping an eye out to make sure no one wandered off? It would make sense, given what she’d seen of his protective nature.

  Oksana forcibly refocused on their surroundings, watching the eight o’clock to twelve o’clock sweep of their flank, while Duchess took twelve o’clock to four o’clock, and Xander, four to eight.

  With one small part of her attention, Oksana listened to the conversation behind her. Much to her chagrin—if not her surprise—Xander seemed to have taken a great interest in Mason and was asking him for more information about the Doctors without Borders mission.

  “We were called here after receiving reports of rebel child soldiers being captured by the government,” Mason explained.

  “A repulsive practice,” Xander observed, “but not a terribly surprising one under the circumstances, I suppose.”

  The doctor nodded. “Sadly not. Things like this have been going on elsewhere in the world for decades. The rebel commanders go into these small, rural villages, murdering the adults and capturing the children. The boys, they make into soldiers, and the girls… well, I’m sure you can imagine,” Mason said, sounding tired and bitter.

  Oksana’s stomach clenched.

  “We’ve had some success bartering the release of the boys who are in poor health, or seem close to a mental breakdown,” Mason continued. “We’ve had little to no success freeing any of the girls, but we won’t stop trying. Anyway, once we have them, it’s our job to medically stabilize them and start the rehabilitative process.”

  “That sounds like quite a challenging undertaking,” Xander observed. “How much success have you seen in rehabilitating them?”

  Oksana glanced back in time to see Mason run a gentle hand over the back of the boy in his arms, who appeared to have drifted into exhausted sleep. He turned a sad, kind smile on the youngster cradled in Xander’s s
ure grip.

  “Oh, quite a bit. Wouldn’t you say so, Cristofer?”

  Dear lord, he has a beautiful smile, Oksana realized, as if it were some sort of divine revelation. She couldn’t help but watch the way the young doctor interacted so smoothly and effortlessly with both the children and adults around him.

  Cristofer smiled back and nodded. “You help.”

  “Cristofer was one of the first children ever treated at the clinic. He’s been with us for almost a year now and does an excellent job every day,” Mason explained.

  The boy ducked his head under the praise, but couldn’t hide the grin on his face. “I want to be a doctor, too.”

  “Oh, yes?” Xander asked, glancing down at the boy. “That’s quite a good thing to be.”

  Cristofer nodded with clear enthusiasm. “Dr. Walker shows me all his instruments and lets me listen to his heart sometimes.”

  Mason chuckled as he gestured the group to turn down a side street. “So far, I’ve been diagnosed with scurvy, the sniffles, and a broken heart.”

  Oksana’s own traitorous heart lurched, as if in sympathy.

  “Well, you don’t have a girlfriend,” Cristofer said accusingly. “That’s why you’re sad sometimes.”

  Mason gave a genial huff and raised an eyebrow at Xander. “We’re still working on refining our medical diagnoses, as you may have gathered.”

  Anything Xander might have said was interrupted when the sound of nearby gunfire rent the night air.

  “Get under cover!” Oksana shouted.

  The children and clinic workers flattened themselves against the wall of the nearest building. A few of the children cowered and covered their ears with their hands.

  A yell of rage and terror caused Oksana and the others to turn toward the middle of the group. Two of the nurses were wrestling with Eniel, the child Oksana had pulled from the rubble. The one who had told her to call him San—the Creole word for blood. She hurried forward and dropped to her knees in front of the boy, who was being forcibly restrained by both arms.

  “Let go! Let go!” he raged, tears streaming down his face. He kicked out wildly, temporarily suspended in mid-air by the adults’ firm grasp. “Free me, now!”