that disarming way he had. “You’re the Museum’s history buff, not me. I love old bones, not old plants. Or old museum directors.”
She giggled and turned back to the book, eagerly turning the pages. The yellowed paper gave off the smell of decay. It was a scent Addison both loved and feared. It spoke of age and accumulated wisdom, but it also spoke of time passing. And now time was passing all too quickly.
“Here.” She pointed to the etching of an elegant flower, its outstretched fringed white petals resembling the wings of a small bird. “He describes an orchid that was used by the Incas to cure myriad disease. They used it in some kind of sacrificial ritual as well, which means it might have had a sedative effect. But here…” She leaned forward. “Here…Merriam describes meeting a shaman who cured—and here’s his exact words—‘many of the natives, who had been taken with a wasting disease, easing them of severe pain, and malingering fever.’ ”
She turned to Daniel. “There are other passages where he goes on to describe how they used the orchid, how he believes they refined it into a tincture.”
Addison closed the book gently, resting her hand on the cracked leather cover. “I think it’s the key to finding a cure for Grace.”
“So you just need to find the orchid. Is it cultivated in any of the botanical collections? Or any private gardens?”
She shook her head, shoulders sagging. “No. Sadly, Merriam’s live specimen was mishandled. It didn’t survive the trip back. And that’s the problem. The preserved specimen in storage is too small, and really too desiccated to be of any use. It’s what I’ve been working with here.” She tipped her head toward the microscope. “That’s the dead end. But it does tell me what I need to do next.”
Daniel looked at her levelly. “You can’t go alone.”
Daniel had always been able to read her like a book. It had been part of the attraction between them, besides the amazing sexual chemistry. Having someone understand her without having to explain herself had been essential, especially when it came to her work. She lived and breathed her work, and she’d found it almost impossible to make polite dinner conversation when she’d tried dating. She lost patience, and her dinner companion lost interest. So she’d stopped dating.
“Are you offering to come with me?” She glanced up at him over the rim of her mug, smiling. “You could visit the newest site while we’re there, get your hands on those old bones you’re so fond of.”
He didn’t return her smile. “I’d be more interested in keeping you out of trouble. You know how dangerous it is down there, especially after the disastrous expedition a couple of years ago.”
The smile faded from Addison’s face, memories rushing in. They’d both lost friends and colleagues when an expedition to a newly discovered ruin in Peru had been massacred.
Addison dropped her eyes, remembering Jeremy and Rachel, interns who she had sent on the expedition. She should have gone herself, should have been in Peru, but she’d felt it was important for them to have the chance to see first-hand this newest discovery. And now, they were dead, and she was here. She didn’t feel guilty—at least, not all the time—but she had a sense she’d cheated death. Since then she’d never worked harder, never took anything for granted.
“It was shifters, the jaguar clans that live in the jungle.” A wave of bitterness swept through her.
Daniel’s laughter made her raise her head. “You really believe in those myths? It’s just lore that’s been perpetuated to keep scientists and ecologists out, so the clear-cutters and raiders can do as they please.”
Addison shook her head. “You know it’s not just lore. There’s evidence…proof. It’s not just a smoke screen set up by raiders or clear-cutters. Shifters exist. It’s not like they’re walking down the street in broad daylight. But they
She giggled and turned back to the book, eagerly turning the pages. The yellowed paper gave off the smell of decay. It was a scent Addison both loved and feared. It spoke of age and accumulated wisdom, but it also spoke of time passing. And now time was passing all too quickly.
“Here.” She pointed to the etching of an elegant flower, its outstretched fringed white petals resembling the wings of a small bird. “He describes an orchid that was used by the Incas to cure myriad disease. They used it in some kind of sacrificial ritual as well, which means it might have had a sedative effect. But here…” She leaned forward. “Here…Merriam describes meeting a shaman who cured—and here’s his exact words—‘many of the natives, who had been taken with a wasting disease, easing them of severe pain, and malingering fever.’ ”
She turned to Daniel. “There are other passages where he goes on to describe how they used the orchid, how he believes they refined it into a tincture.”
Addison closed the book gently, resting her hand on the cracked leather cover. “I think it’s the key to finding a cure for Grace.”
“So you just need to find the orchid. Is it cultivated in any of the botanical collections? Or any private gardens?”
She shook her head, shoulders sagging. “No. Sadly, Merriam’s live specimen was mishandled. It didn’t survive the trip back. And that’s the problem. The preserved specimen in storage is too small, and really too desiccated to be of any use. It’s what I’ve been working with here.” She tipped her head toward the microscope. “That’s the dead end. But it does tell me what I need to do next.”
Daniel looked at her levelly. “You can’t go alone.”
Daniel had always been able to read her like a book. It had been part of the attraction between them, besides the amazing sexual chemistry. Having someone understand her without having to explain herself had been essential, especially when it came to her work. She lived and breathed her work, and she’d found it almost impossible to make polite dinner conversation when she’d tried dating. She lost patience, and her dinner companion lost interest. So she’d stopped dating.
“Are you offering to come with me?” She glanced up at him over the rim of her mug, smiling. “You could visit the newest site while we’re there, get your hands on those old bones you’re so fond of.”
He didn’t return her smile. “I’d be more interested in keeping you out of trouble. You know how dangerous it is down there, especially after the disastrous expedition a couple of years ago.”
The smile faded from Addison’s face, memories rushing in. They’d both lost friends and colleagues when an expedition to a newly discovered ruin in Peru had been massacred.
Addison dropped her eyes, remembering Jeremy and Rachel, interns who she had sent on the expedition. She should have gone herself, should have been in Peru, but she’d felt it was important for them to have the chance to see first-hand this newest discovery. And now, they were dead, and she was here. She didn’t feel guilty—at least, not all the time—but she had a sense she’d cheated death. Since then she’d never worked harder, never took anything for granted.
“It was shifters, the jaguar clans that live in the jungle.” A wave of bitterness swept through her.
Daniel’s laughter made her raise her head. “You really believe in those myths? It’s just lore that’s been perpetuated to keep scientists and ecologists out, so the clear-cutters and raiders can do as they please.”
Addison shook her head. “You know it’s not just lore. There’s evidence…proof. It’s not just a smoke screen set up by raiders or clear-cutters. Shifters exist. It’s not like they’re walking down the street in broad daylight. But they
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