Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel (76 page)

“It wasn’t enough.” Sam heard again her father’s expectation that she could always do more and always give more.

“That doesn’t mean there was no point.” Sloane was holding her shoulders in his hands, and Sam welcomed the weight of his grasp as much as his reassurance. “You know that success comes in stages when combating viruses. You know that there’s no instant or easy answer.”

“He was my son,” Sam whispered. “I wasn’t even there when he died!”

Sloane shook his head. “You were in his mind, in his memories and in his heart. We should all be so lucky to have someone fighting with such diligence on our behalf.” He seemed to believe what he said.

Sam knew she wanted to believe it more than anything she’d ever heard.

“Nathaniel
was
your son,” Sloane whispered. “He had to love you for everything you are.” He bent to touch his lips to her forehead, and Sam felt her eyes close in gratitude as his arms closed around her.

“I don’t deserve your solace,” she whispered and heard Sloane chuckle. “I’m not your mate and this isn’t your firestorm.”

“You’re stuck with this kiss anyway.”

But not more than that.

But then, that meant she had little to lose by telling him the truth in her heart.

Sam tipped her head back to meet Sloane’s gaze. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted.

His eyes darkened and he backed her into the counter, his gaze sweeping over her before he bent to capture her mouth with his. His kiss was potent and gentle, as if he feared she’d reject him, and Sam couldn’t bear that she’d put any such doubt in his mind. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, surrendering all she had to his kiss.

When Sloane deepened his kiss and locked her in his embrace, Sam didn’t care who or what he was.

She just wanted more of his touch.

No matter what he was.

Chapter Twenty-Six

There was a better rapport between Sam and Sloane, thanks to Drake’s intervention. They worked together in the lab after that, comparing notes and observations, and Sam dared to believe that their progress was better.

Faster.

Drake’s blood was amazing. Sam knew she’d never tire of studying it. The cells within it were sufficiently similar to human cells that she could identify them, but their actions were so different. White cells, for example, always defended the body from infection, but Drake’s white cells rode for war with a vigor and speed that astonished Sam. Not only did they isolate and surround any virus she injected into the sample, but they multiplied at a phenomenal rate. They were apparently driven to contain and destroy any intruding cells and to do so with incredible speed. Sam was blown away by it.

“Do you
Pyr
ever get sick?” she asked Sloane one day.

“We tend to be wounded more often,” he replied, his tone revealing that he was giving all of his attention to the sample he was studying.

“Did any of you get this virus?”

Sloane shook his head. “We haven’t been taking any chances.”

“So, as Apothecary, you mostly tend battle wounds. Unless there are specific diseases that only
Pyr
get.”

He nodded once, then frowned. “There is one thing you could call an illness specific to us, one that might as well be fatal. When
Pyr
turn
Slayer
, it’s a choice that manifests physiologically.”

“How so?”

“
Slayers
have blood that’s both black and corrosive.”

Sam looked up at that. “What makes it black? Extra hemoglobin?”

“Their decision to turn away from the Great Wyvern and her wisdom,” he said. She saw that he was completely serious, even though he sounded like Jac. “Their decision to be selfish and to decline the quest of the
Pyr
to defend the earth and its treasures means that the divine spark dies within them.
Slayers
aren’t dead, but they might as well be.” Sloane shrugged. “The world would be a better place if they were dead.”

They didn’t talk about the reckoning that was pending.

“Good dragons and bad dragons?” Sam kept her tone light, but Sloane straightened.

“The last living
Slayer
was Jorge, who is topaz with gold,” he said. “You might remember his appearance in Seattle.”

Sam flinched, hiding her reaction by looking into the microscope again.

“Since then, there have been new
Slayers
appearing.”

“Like the ones in the video from Australia?”

Sloane nodded. “Groups of them, hatching at each eclipse.” He shook his head. “We’ve never seen anything like it before. I think they might be clones of a dead
Slayer
.”

Sam shuddered. Then she realized something and looked up. “Wait a minute. Jorge wasn’t infected with the virus.”

“Possibly because he’s consumed the Elixir, and it ensured that he recovered quickly from any infection.”

“The Elixir?”

Sloane turned an intent look upon her. “There’s a substance called the Dragon’s Blood Elixir. It confers a kind of immortality upon any
Pyr
who consumes it. He’ll heal quickly after taking it, but always needs more.”

“Like a drug, then,” Sam mused.

“It’s a toxin,” Sloane corrected. “Only
Slayers
have ever consumed it, so it makes them both more violent and harder to kill. I’ll guess that Jorge healed from the exposure to the virus, because of the Elixir.”

“But Drake wasn’t infected with the virus, either, and I’m guessing he hasn’t had the Elixir?”

“No. His immunity is probably because he had antibodies as old as the virus itself, also unmutated.”

Sam spun on her stool to face him. “But what if
Pyr
can’t get this infection at all? What if it’s not the Elixir and not Drake’s age but something fundamental in your physiology that ensures you can’t get it?”

Sloane turned to stare at her and she knew she had his attention.

“Do you know
any
Pyr
who’ve been infected with the Seattle virus?” Sam asked.

“No,” Sloane said, shaking his head. “No! Not one. That’s brilliant. I was assuming they hadn’t been exposed, but you’re right. They must have been, given how widely it’s spread. Plus Theo and Kristofer helped Drake recover Ronnie from Jorge—they were exposed and they never got it.”

Sam shrugged. “It might be simply that they failed to have an exchange of body fluids with her…”

Before Sam could finish, Sloane peeled off the hood of his HazMat suit and chucked it aside, then shed his heavy gloves. “There’s one way to find out.” He unzipped the top of his suit and shrugged out of it, revealing the T-shirt he wore beneath and his muscled build. He grabbed a wide elastic band and wrapped it around his upper arm, then gestured to the syringes. “We’ll take a before and an after sample,” he instructed Sam. “And compare the differences.”

“Before and after what?” Sam asked, even though she was afraid she could guess what he was going to do.

“We’re going to test
Pyr
immunity to the Seattle virus, right here and right now.” His eyes were shining with resolve.

“No! You aren’t going to inject yourself with it! That’s not protocol,” Sam protested. “We need to do this in a controlled process…”

Sloane interrupted her flatly. “We don’t have time for protocol.”

“We’ll take a sample of your blood and infect it first…”

“And we won’t learn nearly enough about the way my immune system responds,” Sloane said, interrupting her again. “I’m going to infect myself and you’re going to study the results. You’re going to compare my body’s reaction to Ronnie’s, then try to isolate the variable that makes the difference.” He shrugged. “Assuming that there is one that does.”

“You can’t do this. It’s irresponsible. Put your hood back on to protect yourself…”

Sloane seized Sam’s hand and his gaze bored into hers. “It’s my responsibility to defend the treasures of the earth, which include humans. I
can
do this, and I will.” His intensity made her mouth go dry. “You can help me or I can do it alone.”

Sam wanted to insist on protocol. She wanted to keep Sloane safe.

“My father warned me, Sam, that sometimes the Apothecary has to sacrifice his own welfare to serve the greater good,” he said softly. “My destined role is to heal, regardless of the price.”

She saw a determination in his dark eyes that told her she would lose the argument. And he was right: every moment counted.

His choice made her heart squeeze tight. She tied the tourniquet around his arm and took a syringe, turning his arm to find a vein. There was no denying the raw power of his body or his sheer good health. Sam’s mouth went dry, though, because it was easy to remember how gently he had touched her.

But there wouldn’t be any more of that. He’d have to go into isolation until they knew whether he was infected, if he exposed himself to the virus.

Sam didn’t want to think about it. “Tell me about this treasures-of-the-earth thing that Drake mentioned,” she invited, then eased the needle into his vein to take a blood sample.

“In the beginning, there was the fire,” Sloane said quietly. His voice was low and melodic and it awakened her desire all over again. “And the fire burned hot because it was cradled by the earth. The fire burned bright because it was nurtured by the air. The fire burned lower only when it was quenched by the water. And these were the four elements of divine design, of which all would be built and with which all would be destroyed. And the elements were placed at the cornerstones of the material world and it was good.

“But the elements were alone and undefended, incapable of communicating with each other, snared within the matter that was theirs to control. And so, out of the endless void was created a race of guardians whose appointed task was to protect and defend the integrity of the four sacred elements. They were given powers, the better to fulfill their responsibilities; they were given strength and cunning and longevity to safeguard the treasures surrendered to their stewardship. To them alone would the elements respond. These guardians were—and are—the
Pyr
.”

Sam set the filled vials aside, withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball into the puncture. “That’s a very powerful verse. Did you just make it up?”

Sloane shook his head. “It’s our story of who we are, of why we are.” He took a clean syringe, then a vial of Ronnie’s infected blood. He loaded the syringe and didn’t hesitate before injecting it into himself. Sam watched, speechless, thinking it was the most heroic thing she’d ever seen.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered.

“But I did,” Sloane said, apparently without regret. “I’ll join Ronnie and Drake in isolation until we’re sure of the results.” He pivoted then and might have left the lab, but suddenly turn back. “By the way, if I do get sick…”

Sam folded her arms around herself and waited.

Sloane pointed to the line of refrigerators. “Those
Slayer
clones I told you about? There’s one in that fridge. Do not open the door.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “He’s not dead.”

“He’d disintegrate if he was, and I’d have nothing left to test.”

She turned to look at the fridge in question and couldn’t stifle her shudder. There was a not-dead evil dragon that close? By the time she turned around again, Sloane was saluting her with two fingers and walking away.

What Sam really wanted was a kiss.

But he couldn’t kiss her. Not now.

She spun to face the bench, feeling a bit sick. Sloane could contract the virus. In fact, given everything Sam had seen, chances were pretty good that he would—unless they were right about
Pyr
blood. In a way, she wished she hadn’t speculated aloud. If Sloane did contract the virus, he might die, unless she managed to create an antidote.

And if she did manage to do that, it would be all because of Sloane and his choices.

He would even let her take all the credit.

But it was the prospect of losing him, even of him not being in the world any longer, was enough to shake the foundations of Sam’s universe. She bit her lip and stared at the bench, filling with the certainty that she loved him.

Then she turned back to her work, knowing that it was up to her to ensure that Sloane survived his heroic choice.

Her gaze rose more than once to that fridge. She thought of the quote that reminded him of his father, of the caduceus and wondered if the
Slayer
might hold a key to the
Pyr
’s future.

First she had to work on ensuring that Sloane had a future.

* * *

Jac was excited and frightened. She knew exactly what Marco was intending to do, without him saying a word. She’d seen his devastation at Rafferty’s injury and felt the power of the firestorm. He was
Pyr
, right to his marrow. There was no way he’d ally with the clone of Boris Vassily, not for any price.

He was going to trick the
Slayer
.

And she was going to help.

They waited in her apartment for Boris’s instructions, keeping their distance from each other to try to manage the firestorm’s insistence. Jac was pretty sure she wasn’t the only one losing the battle. All she could think about was Marco, the way he’d touched her, the way he kissed, the way his body felt when he was crushed against her. She loved the way he took his time when seducing her and how thoroughly he satisfied her. She was dying of curiosity to know how much better the firestorm might make their lovemaking, and pretty certain she wouldn’t last until September. Every time she glanced his way, it seemed she found his gaze upon her, his eyes dark and his expression sensual.