Page 31 of Dark Medicine

Fiona shook her head gently, notifying them not to touch her. Flip reached into his pocket and pulled out a napkin, gently wiping away the blood. Somehow, he knew. He knew that she had to do this.

“You repaired it,” said Kane.

“Not… yet…” came Fiona’s breathless reply. “Poi-poison… the blade… poison…”

It was the same as her brother, but she refused to let Adam die. It was obvious whoever wanted them was well acquainted with her skills. She focused on the blood flowing in his veins.

Unlike Adam, she couldn’t see the cells, but she sensed the poison, feeling it more than seeing it. She could identify it as a foreign body and knew she had to expel it. Feeling the spores of poison seep through her own hand, she gasped for air as Adam did the same. His eyes opened wide as he sucked in a deep breath. Fiona’s opened wide and then closed. Her task complete, she fell back against the cold hard earth.

“Adam! Brother!” yelled Kane.

“Stop yelling at me! Fiona…” he said with a hoarse croak.

He looked at the ground beside him, Flip holding Fiona’s head in his lap. Adam, weak and breathless, pushed up to his knees and held her hands. There were no internal injuries, but he could see the cells fighting something.

“Fucking hell! Why did you let her do that?” asked Adam.

“We couldn’t exactly stop her, Adam.” Aislinn’s voice was calm and soft, exactly what Adam needed to hear at that moment. She touched his shoulder, and he nodded, a tear falling down his cheek. She couldn’t die. She just couldn’t.

He continued to watch the blood fight the poison, her body protesting the very essence of it. He tried to identify the foreign substance, but it moved so quickly in her system he couldn’t get a read on it.

Adam lowered his head to hers, resting his forehead against her own.

Please, don’t take her from me. Please…

“I’m… I’m here, Adam. I’m okay.” Adam’s head popped up, and he stared down at her in awe.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” he yelled. “You are more important than I am. You let me die. Don’t you risk your life for me!”

“Adam,” said Kane, trying to console his friend.

“Adam Thorn,” she said softly, “don’t you yell at me for saving the man I love when I know for sure he would have done the same thing for me. As you can see, I’m fine now. I just needed a moment to recover.” Flip helped her sit up and smiled at the feisty woman.

“Thank you, Flip,” she said, grinning at the big man. “I could feel your calm in the storm. I appreciate the lap to rest my head.”

“Any time, Fiona,” he said, smiling.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! You’re going to flirt with my woman now!? Wait, you said you loved me. You love me.”

“Now, he hears me,” said Fiona as he crushed her to his chest.

Flip laughed as he stood and turned, running down the same trail Spook took. Following the path down the side of the cliff, Flip looked down at his massive feet covering the width of the path and started to rethink the idea of following. His large body wasn’t made for the tiny pathway. Turning a sharp curve, he spotted Spook heading back toward him.

“Well?” he asked. Spook was breathing heavy but shook his head.

“He had a boat waiting at the bottom. That’s how they got up here without us seeing them. He was alone, though, so I know it was just the two of them.” Flip nodded. “Adam?”

“She saved him,” he said, smiling. “Most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, but she fucking saved him.”

“Well, at least now we know who we’re dealing with. I, for one, want to get off this fucking cold island and get home. Although come to think of it, that is where Moore happens to be.”

“There is that,” said Flip, climbing back up the steep trail. “And if I get within ten miles of him, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Bellum paced the floor of his hotel room outside of Dublin. He’d seen some pretty spectacular things in his day, but seeing Zurvel floating in the air and then tossed over the side of the cliff as if he weighed nothing was beyond his imagination.

The problem now was he didn’t have the girl, and he had no explanation for what had occurred. If he called Moore or Groome, his family would be dead by morning, if not sooner. He thought briefly of Zurvel’s wife and two sons. He met them once years ago. The boys, twins, were probably twenty now and in college. Last he heard, they were living in Wisconsin near her family.

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