Page 5 of Dark Medicine

“Whoa, you mean after she rubbed her own ankle, you touch her, and there’s nothing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And there’s more. When she grabbed my hand the first time, there was this, I don’t know, like an electrical shock and something super crazy happening in her brain. I knew she was different, maybe like us.”

“Damn, what are you going to do?” asked Spook.

“She’s picking me up in the morning, and we’re going for a run up at Wicklow. She’ll bring me to the hotel to meet all of you for dinner. Hopefully, I can figure this out before then.”

“But how?” asked Flip. “I mean, we made the connection with all of us to the base and potentially that pink powder. How could an Irish girl have been exposed to that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, looking down at his beer. “I’ll try to ask more questions tomorrow. The other thing is, she’s a lot younger than all of us. Kane and I are both thirty-seven, you guys are both thirty-five, Aislinn is thirty-one. This girl can’t be more than twenty-five or so.”

“Well, I, for one, will be glad when we leave this place. I love Kane and Aislinn, mostly for taking Kane off our hands,” Spook grinned at his friends, “but this place is miserable with all the rain.”

“Yea,” grinned Adam, “I said the same thing to Fiona. She said the weather is the weather. Get better clothing.”

“She has a point there,” said Flip, grinning at his friends. “Maybe we should make a run to that street of shops around the corner and buy some different gear. I, for one, could use a good raincoat and maybe some warmer sweaters.”

Adam and Spook nodded, dropped the cash on the table, and headed back out toward the stores on Grafton. The door attendant handed them all umbrellas, and they gladly took one. Adam and Spook purchased Barbour rain gear and wool scarves, but Flip was having a serious issue finding anything to fit. At six-foot-five and two hundred and seventy pounds, he wasn’t exactly the typical Irishman.

At the last store they walked into, the woman was about to close the doors when they stepped inside.

“We’re closing up,” she said, smiling at the men with a weary, tired smile, no doubt having dodged tourists and locals alike for a ten-hour shift.

“I just need to know if you have a raincoat to fit me,” said a frustrated Flip. The woman looked up at the mountain of a man and nodded.

“I do indeed. You’re a big boy, you are, but we have big boys here in Ireland as well. I’ve a few sweaters as well. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the back room, and the three stood in the middle of the store, just staring at displays. A few minutes later, she walked out with three coats, all identical in style. One was blue, one green, and one khaki. She also handed him two sweaters, one navy and one the traditional Irish fishing sweater.

“I’ve worn enough khaki in my day. I’ll take the blue and both sweaters,” said Flip. The coat was a classic short zip-up style, which suited him just fine.

“Grand, just grand.” She rang up the sale and watched as the giant of a man moved out into the night. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, but it wasn’t the first time she wondered what Americans put in their food to make them so large.

Back at the hotel, the three retired to their rooms, all on the same floor in a row. Adam put his new jacket on a hanger and took a quick shower, warming his chilled body. He couldn’t get Fiona out of his mind. Her blue eyes, the fire-red hair, the freckles. He wanted to kiss each one of those little dots, but he was also curious about her abilities.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried off, and, as was customary, he slid between the sheets naked. Turning off the light, he noticed a blinking red light on his room phone. Clicking the button for voicemail, he listened.

Hi, ummm, I hope this is Adam Thorn. This is Fiona Graham. Although it occurs to me if you’re not Adam Thorn, I just gave my name to a stranger in a hotel. You helped me this evening after I was hit by the motorcycle. Of course you’d remember that. I mean, how many women do you help that get hit by motorcycles? Plus, you bought me dinner. Well, you probably buy lots of women dinner. Okay, I’m rambling now. I do that when I’m nervous. I just wanted to thank you again and say, well, I’m looking forward to our run. I hope you have a good bed… I mean, damn!… I hope you sleep well. Alright, I’m done humiliating myself now. See you tomorrow.

Adam smiled as he hung up the phone. She was nervous, and if he was any judge at all, she had a bit of a crush on him. This trip was turning around fast.

CHAPTER FIVE

Fiona was wide-awake at seven as planned and in her running gear. She packed a small overnight bag with a few items, deciding it might be nice to stay at the bed and breakfast where she normally changed clothes. Her apartment was small and cramped, and it would be good to get out of the city for the weekend. Monday was a holiday, so she wouldn’t have to go in and face Mr. Malone until Tuesday.

Pulling into the light Saturday morning traffic, she headed toward her favorite bakery and picked up a few scones and coffee for her and Adam for breakfast. By the time she pulled up to the Sherbourne, Adam was waiting patiently on the front steps, overnight bag in hand.

“Good morning,” she said, smiling at him through the open window.

“Good morning,” he said, tossing his items in the back seat. “You’re chipper this morning.”

“I’m a morning person,” she said, smiling at him.

She watched as his long, muscled legs flexed through the loose-fitting fleece pants. He had on a long-sleeved thermal tee with the Army logo across the front. Fiona could picture him in his uniform, and an unfamiliar warmth spread through her stomach and to her loins.

“Do I smell coffee?” he asked, clicking his seatbelt in place.

“You do,” she said, handing him the piping hot cup. “I also bought a few things from the bakery. I figured you didn’t have time to eat this morning.”

“I didn’t, so thank you.” He sipped the black coffee and dug in the bag, finding a cinnamon scone. He handed Fiona her coffee and another scone. “So, tell me why it isn’t safe for a woman to run by herself in Wicklow.”

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