Night Beyond The Night by Joss Ware Page B

discombobulated.
    For the first time, she hoped she was wrong about him and that he would soon be on his way. Somewhere else. Far away.

Chapter 8
    Lou Waxnicki’s face showed every bit of his eighty-odd years, though his gray eyes were still bright and sharp. The original color of his hair, which was worn in a ponytail that stretched longer than Simon’s, was indistinguishable, for now it was silver. Not white, not the dirty pale yellow of aged locks, but pure silver—and the same wiry hair grew in the form of a neatly trimmed goatee. That, combined with the faded
WarGames
T-shirt and a pair of trendy wire-rimmed glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose—at least, they’d been trendy fifty years ago—made him look like a nerdy hippie with a hint of Asian heritage around the eyes and cheekbones.
    He certainly didn’t look like a guy who was a little “off” as Sam Pinglett had indicated last night. In fact, as he found the man’s eyes searching his gaze, Elliott had a feeling this guy’s brain never rested.
    He caught himself just before he reached for Mr. Waxnicki’s hand. Instead, Elliott merely nodded and said, “I’d shake your hand, but I think I’ve got something contagious. I don’t want to give it to you.” A little something he’d just recently picked up, so to speak, since leaving his room with Jade and stopping off to collect Simon.
    The elderly man looked at him keenly, withdrawing his hand. “You’re a doctor. A healer.”
    Elliott nodded. “Yes, I am. I have to take care not to pass on illnesses that I might have been exposed to.”
    What a load of crap
, Waxnicki’s eyes said, but they also glinted with curiosity. He turned away. “I trust the rest of you don’t have the same problem?”
    Glancing curiously at Elliott, Wyatt nevertheless extended his hand. As their palms touched, Elliott saw Waxnicki’s eyes widen just a bit. The older man gave Wyatt a knowing look, a little nod, and a bit of a smile tipped his lips. “Sit down, please,” the older man said after he’d shaken the hands of the others.
    Elliott chose a seat where he could eye Jade without appearing obvious, then he instantly regretted the blatant move. Especially when Fence gave him a knowing grin.
Christ
. Was he in fucking high school again? No . . . that was more like a middle school move.
    He and his hormones still hadn’t fully recovered from that long, lush kiss in his room. Nope, even a quick glance at Jade had him thinking about the taste of her, the feel of her fingers closing over his shoulders, even the innocuous lemon scent that wafted from her hair. Her wide, sensual mouth had the sexiest little curl at the edges when she smiled, and he well knew exactly how soft it was.
    Probably had been a stupid thing to do, but even though he’d seen her apprehension, he figured he’d better take the opportunity to touch her when he was certain he wouldn’t be passing on some illness or injury. Extenuating circumstances and all.
    And the feel of her soft mouth, which turned up at the corner when she smiled—as she did now, at Lou Waxnicki—had been worth the chance.
    Problem was, he wanted more. A lot more. And he still didn’t know what was up with the Marlboro Man. Nor was he going to be able to touch Jade—or anyone—again for a while.
    A painful twinge in his chest and over the top of his shoulder confirmed that train of thought, and Elliott resisted the urge to touch it. He’d expected this to happen after healing Simon’s
ganga
scratches this morning.
    When he and Jade had gone to waken the others, Elliott decided it was time for an experiment he’d been considering during the night, when he was trying, in vain, to sleep. Which was why he’d sprung fully awake the moment he heard the door from the adjoining room scuff quietly open.
    So, a short time ago, he’d checked Simon’s gashes, which had begun to heal very well, thanks to some natural salve Elliott had given him to spread over them.
    Until