leather between your skin and theirs? And I doubt it has anything to do with being afraid of germs.”
Pest held up his black leather-covered hands. “I fear germs very much, Bart, though it’s more for others whom I touch that I worry. I’m immune to disease and illness. Have been since I became what I am.”
“What are you? What is Death? And is Lam one of you?”
Bart’s eyes drooped and Pest knew it was only a matter of seconds before Bart would fall asleep. The herbs brought the fever down, but they also acted like a sedative. Pest leaned down and brushed a kiss over Bart’s forehead.
“Sleep, honey. You can interrogate me later when you wake up.”
“I’ll keep asking until you tell me the truth, Pest. I want to know all your secrets.”
Pest watched Bart drift into slumber. “Something tells me you might come to regret my saving your life,” Pest mumbled as he left Bart to sleep.
* * * *
“What time is it?”
Pest looked up from the computer screen he’d been staring at for the past twenty minutes. He glanced at his watch. “It’s around midnight. You slept for about four hours. Are you hungry? There’s spaghetti in the refrigerator if you are.”
Bart paused like he was trying to decide whether he was hungry or not. As Pest watched him, his stomach growled.
“I guess that says it all.” Bart grinned at him and shuffled off to get food.
Pest had eaten earlier. Even though he didn’t need to, he ate to feel more normal—it was the same reason why he’d actually sleep when it got dark. He waited until Bart came back with a plateful of pasta and sat down on the couch before talking again.
“Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to see the dean of your discipline. See if he can get us in to see Jasper and the others. I think they’ll be so shocked at seeing you again, they’ll agree to anything you ask. Plus the doctors handling the others’ cases will want to examine you.” Pest leaned back in his chair and laid his head against the headrest. “Do you think the virus mutated when it left the humidity of the rainforest?”
Bart grunted and Pest continued on.
“I’m trying to figure out why you didn’t end up with boils and open sores. Your fever was very high for several weeks. Lam worried your brain might set on fire because of how hot you were.”
“Lam’s a friend of yours?”
Pest tilted his head to the side and spied Bart staring at him. “I wouldn’t necessarily call him a friend. He’s worked with us on a few missions, but it’s always been at Death’s request.”
“But you trusted him enough to leave him to watch me while you were gone?” Bart put his empty plate on the coffee table and curled up in the corner of the couch, feet tucked under him and arms wrapped around his knees.
“I didn’t have much of a choice. Death needed me to go with him. Plus when Lam gives his word, you can trust him to keep it. He promised he would keep you alive until I got back, and that’s exactly what he did.” Pest looked back up at the ceiling. “Aside from my comrades, Lam is the one creature I’d trust with someone else’s life.”
“Your comrades? What are you, Russian?” Bart frowned.
Pest shook his head reluctantly. “The three men I work with aren’t my friends, but they are more than mere associates. I’d hesitate to call them family or anything intimate. We avoid being around each other as much as we possibly can. The only one who sees each of us individually is Death.”
“Are you a cult who believe you’re the Four Horsemen or something? Are the other two called War and Famine?” Bart snorted in disbelief.
Silence filled the room as Pest decided what he could tell Bart without getting in trouble with Death and have Bart believe him. There wasn’t much he could reveal, and he knew it. Either way he was screwed, yet he couldn’t stop himself.
He stood and joined Bart on the couch. He unbuttoned his shirt and tugged the bottom out of his
Pest held up his black leather-covered hands. “I fear germs very much, Bart, though it’s more for others whom I touch that I worry. I’m immune to disease and illness. Have been since I became what I am.”
“What are you? What is Death? And is Lam one of you?”
Bart’s eyes drooped and Pest knew it was only a matter of seconds before Bart would fall asleep. The herbs brought the fever down, but they also acted like a sedative. Pest leaned down and brushed a kiss over Bart’s forehead.
“Sleep, honey. You can interrogate me later when you wake up.”
“I’ll keep asking until you tell me the truth, Pest. I want to know all your secrets.”
Pest watched Bart drift into slumber. “Something tells me you might come to regret my saving your life,” Pest mumbled as he left Bart to sleep.
* * * *
“What time is it?”
Pest looked up from the computer screen he’d been staring at for the past twenty minutes. He glanced at his watch. “It’s around midnight. You slept for about four hours. Are you hungry? There’s spaghetti in the refrigerator if you are.”
Bart paused like he was trying to decide whether he was hungry or not. As Pest watched him, his stomach growled.
“I guess that says it all.” Bart grinned at him and shuffled off to get food.
Pest had eaten earlier. Even though he didn’t need to, he ate to feel more normal—it was the same reason why he’d actually sleep when it got dark. He waited until Bart came back with a plateful of pasta and sat down on the couch before talking again.
“Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to see the dean of your discipline. See if he can get us in to see Jasper and the others. I think they’ll be so shocked at seeing you again, they’ll agree to anything you ask. Plus the doctors handling the others’ cases will want to examine you.” Pest leaned back in his chair and laid his head against the headrest. “Do you think the virus mutated when it left the humidity of the rainforest?”
Bart grunted and Pest continued on.
“I’m trying to figure out why you didn’t end up with boils and open sores. Your fever was very high for several weeks. Lam worried your brain might set on fire because of how hot you were.”
“Lam’s a friend of yours?”
Pest tilted his head to the side and spied Bart staring at him. “I wouldn’t necessarily call him a friend. He’s worked with us on a few missions, but it’s always been at Death’s request.”
“But you trusted him enough to leave him to watch me while you were gone?” Bart put his empty plate on the coffee table and curled up in the corner of the couch, feet tucked under him and arms wrapped around his knees.
“I didn’t have much of a choice. Death needed me to go with him. Plus when Lam gives his word, you can trust him to keep it. He promised he would keep you alive until I got back, and that’s exactly what he did.” Pest looked back up at the ceiling. “Aside from my comrades, Lam is the one creature I’d trust with someone else’s life.”
“Your comrades? What are you, Russian?” Bart frowned.
Pest shook his head reluctantly. “The three men I work with aren’t my friends, but they are more than mere associates. I’d hesitate to call them family or anything intimate. We avoid being around each other as much as we possibly can. The only one who sees each of us individually is Death.”
“Are you a cult who believe you’re the Four Horsemen or something? Are the other two called War and Famine?” Bart snorted in disbelief.
Silence filled the room as Pest decided what he could tell Bart without getting in trouble with Death and have Bart believe him. There wasn’t much he could reveal, and he knew it. Either way he was screwed, yet he couldn’t stop himself.
He stood and joined Bart on the couch. He unbuttoned his shirt and tugged the bottom out of his
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