this one—tough and determined. And human.
The doc shrugged and looked back at her, his expression tinged with grief and worry. “To be honest we’re running out of ideas. If your research turns up anything at all . . . well, I’d like to hear about it.”
“You will.” And that was a promise. More, she would put Lucius and Natalie on it, and see what they could turn up in the archives. Granted, they’d been through it all before, trying to get ahead of the first outbreak, far up in the Mayan highlands. But maybe there was something else, some subtle hint that could help the humans fight the
xombi
virus.
This time when he reached behind his back, she didn’t tense up. He came up with a battered wallet of leather-edged nylon, and from there produced a business card that he held out. “Call me and we’ll meet someplace safe.”
It shouldn’t have felt like a big deal to take the card. She gave it a glance. “Well, then, Doctor Curtis.”
“David. Or Dave.” He paused expectantly.
“Anna Catori.” She rattled off her phone number, then opened her free hand to show that it was empty. “Sorry, didn’t bring a card.”
His eyes locked on her palm, where the sacrificial cut had healed to its usual scar, but blood had dried to rusty streaks. “What’d you do there?”
He reached out and caught her wrist before she could yank it back. And he stilled at the sight of her forearm—not the black glyph-marks of her bloodline and magic, which he would no doubt think were tattoos, but the raised white crisscrosses below.
“I nicked myself on a rock,” she said, meeting his eyes and daring him to mention the scars. “It’s nothing.” Nothing she wanted to talk about. Nothing he could help with. “Just a scratch.”
His eyes searched hers, but he said only, “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
He hesitated a long moment, then exhaled. “Well, call me if you find something. And be careful, will you? If the militia doesn’t shoot at you, then the real looters will.”
She didn’t tell him she could take care of herself, or that they wouldn’t see her unless she allowed it. She just nodded. “I will.” But as she reclaimed her hand, she had a strong feeling that they had just agreed to far more than a phone call.
He watched her go, no doubt trying to figure out how much of what she’d told him was a lie—which was all of it and none of it, really. Dez would be pleased. She hadn’t gotten anything out of Doctor Dave that they didn’t already know, but the possibility was there, and he was someone they could leak suggestions to, if anything came up.
More, she had a feeling that meeting him had been important. Maybe it hadn’t been gods-destined, but she had needed the reminder that the outbreak was affecting living, breathing people. Mothers, fathers, children, loved ones . . .
“Hell,” she muttered under her breath as she headed down the raised stone
sacbe
that led toward the cenote, where she could use the small temple to shield her from view while she ’ported back to Skywatch.
Her first stop was going to be the royal suite, to report back to Dez . . . but her second was going to be the library. She might not be able to summon the visions, but she was a researcher, a translator, and damn good at what she did. There had to be something more the humans could do to fight the
xombi
virus. And she was going to find it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
December 10
Eleven days until the zero date
Skywatch
In the week and a half following Rabbit’s return, Myrinne met with him two, sometimes three times a day, first to figure out the limits of the shared magic, and then to train with him. Because, like it or not, she was the only one who could trigger his powers. There was no sign of his darker side . . . but the sex magic remained a problem. She had learned how to throttle it down, muting the raw lust with meditation, crystals and chants, but the urges remained. It was as if her body cared only
The doc shrugged and looked back at her, his expression tinged with grief and worry. “To be honest we’re running out of ideas. If your research turns up anything at all . . . well, I’d like to hear about it.”
“You will.” And that was a promise. More, she would put Lucius and Natalie on it, and see what they could turn up in the archives. Granted, they’d been through it all before, trying to get ahead of the first outbreak, far up in the Mayan highlands. But maybe there was something else, some subtle hint that could help the humans fight the
xombi
virus.
This time when he reached behind his back, she didn’t tense up. He came up with a battered wallet of leather-edged nylon, and from there produced a business card that he held out. “Call me and we’ll meet someplace safe.”
It shouldn’t have felt like a big deal to take the card. She gave it a glance. “Well, then, Doctor Curtis.”
“David. Or Dave.” He paused expectantly.
“Anna Catori.” She rattled off her phone number, then opened her free hand to show that it was empty. “Sorry, didn’t bring a card.”
His eyes locked on her palm, where the sacrificial cut had healed to its usual scar, but blood had dried to rusty streaks. “What’d you do there?”
He reached out and caught her wrist before she could yank it back. And he stilled at the sight of her forearm—not the black glyph-marks of her bloodline and magic, which he would no doubt think were tattoos, but the raised white crisscrosses below.
“I nicked myself on a rock,” she said, meeting his eyes and daring him to mention the scars. “It’s nothing.” Nothing she wanted to talk about. Nothing he could help with. “Just a scratch.”
His eyes searched hers, but he said only, “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
He hesitated a long moment, then exhaled. “Well, call me if you find something. And be careful, will you? If the militia doesn’t shoot at you, then the real looters will.”
She didn’t tell him she could take care of herself, or that they wouldn’t see her unless she allowed it. She just nodded. “I will.” But as she reclaimed her hand, she had a strong feeling that they had just agreed to far more than a phone call.
He watched her go, no doubt trying to figure out how much of what she’d told him was a lie—which was all of it and none of it, really. Dez would be pleased. She hadn’t gotten anything out of Doctor Dave that they didn’t already know, but the possibility was there, and he was someone they could leak suggestions to, if anything came up.
More, she had a feeling that meeting him had been important. Maybe it hadn’t been gods-destined, but she had needed the reminder that the outbreak was affecting living, breathing people. Mothers, fathers, children, loved ones . . .
“Hell,” she muttered under her breath as she headed down the raised stone
sacbe
that led toward the cenote, where she could use the small temple to shield her from view while she ’ported back to Skywatch.
Her first stop was going to be the royal suite, to report back to Dez . . . but her second was going to be the library. She might not be able to summon the visions, but she was a researcher, a translator, and damn good at what she did. There had to be something more the humans could do to fight the
xombi
virus. And she was going to find it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
December 10
Eleven days until the zero date
Skywatch
In the week and a half following Rabbit’s return, Myrinne met with him two, sometimes three times a day, first to figure out the limits of the shared magic, and then to train with him. Because, like it or not, she was the only one who could trigger his powers. There was no sign of his darker side . . . but the sex magic remained a problem. She had learned how to throttle it down, muting the raw lust with meditation, crystals and chants, but the urges remained. It was as if her body cared only
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