Page 55 of Penny for Your Saints

When they see me step off the last rung of the ladder and stretch into a big yawn—they fall silent, worried looks pinching their fine features.

“What’s the matter? You two look way too grim for having gotten laid last night,” I whisper, noticing the coffee pot on the slate overhang. I shuffle over to the metal basin to retrieve my whiskey mug from last night, giving it a quick rinse by working the small pump handle up and down until freezing cold water pours over the cobalt blue enameled cup speckled with white.

“Well…” Seb sighs, reaching for the pot to pour me a cup of coffee. “The results aren’t definitive, because I had shit equipment and everything was still processing when we had to make a run from the last safehouse,” Sébastien pauses, his eyes finding Quentin’s as the two share a worried look.

“But,” I supply, urging Seb onward as I lean over my backpack and pull a miniature bar of chocolate from the frontpouch and strip it of its plastic wrapper before dropping it into my steaming cup of coffee.

“Well, if the test results are to be believed, the dart that was fired at Quentin turned up positive for the Zietnot virus,” Seb answers flatly.

It takes a moment to process what he’s said, but once I do—I jump up from my seat, backing away from Seb and Quentin without thinking.

My shame rises as I realize that my first instinct was one of self preservation, rather than protection—then the combination of panic and confusion when I realize that all of us have not only shared close quarters since the raid on the last safehouse—but we’ve exchanged more than our fair share of bodily fluids as well… Yet none of us seem to be showing symptoms?

I want to ask what the fuck is going on, how they’re acting so calm and collected when Quentin and Louise may already be infected—but Seb doesn’t give me the chance.

“While the dart may have been loaded with the virus, it appears that Quentin is immune to the Zeitnot virus because he has developed antibodies after an initial infection.”

I blink, completely flabbergasted.

“But how? Doesn’t the Zeitnot virus have a nearly zero percent survival rate?” I stammer, my panic getting the best of me.

Seb scrubs at the dark stubble along the hard angle of his jaw.

“This also perplexes me. I need better equipment to get clearer answers—but as far as I can tell from the primitive testing that I’ve been able to do while on the lam, Quentin had previously been infected with the virus—and by some treatment or by the grace of god, survived the symptoms. Since he has immunity from the initial infection, the dart was basically useless on him.”

“Sorry I instantly started to retreat in panic…” Sheepishly, I creep back onto the couch, my eyes fixed on the floor as I offer my apology.

“No, it makes sense.” Quentin shrugs. “It’s not like you would have suffered any symptoms as a theta—you did it out of concern for Louise and I.”

Louise.

My eyes snap to the wooden boards of the loft directly above us.

“Wait—that may partly explain why Q isn’t showing any symptoms, but what about Louise?” I blurt out, fear rising again.

“Now that is a good question,” Seb sighs ruefully, kicking back into the couch with an exasperated sigh.

“We don’t have very long before this heat hits,” Quentin says mildly, but I can see the tension in his jaw as he does his best to appear nonchalant. “But we should prioritize getting Seb some access to some better equipment so that we can get some answers.”

There’s a loud creaking sound from above, which makes the three of us around the fire nearly jump out of our skins. Both Frank and Louise’s heads appear at the edge of the loft—peering down at us.

“I was going to bitch at you three for being so fuckin’ chatty…” Frank yawns.

“But I think it’s safe to say this deserves a conversation,” Louise adds tartly, her eyes still droopy with sleep.

“Well, there’s plenty of beastly coffee—not a proper tea bag to be had in this house, but plenty of that paint thinner,” Quentin sniffs like a prized Persian cat, crossing one long leg over the other as Frank and Louise hobble down the ladder to join us.

Frank opens his mouth, a grin already spreading across his lips—a hand moving to grab his crotch in a lewd gesture.

“Francis Stone—if you make a joke about your scrotum on my face, I will make you regret it,” Q warns Frank—pinching the bridge of his nose delicately, as if he may faint like some Victorian lady.

Everyone bursts into laughter—the momentary mood of the room lightens before silence falls once again.

“So…” Louise breaks the tense quiet, shuffling to the open space on the couch between Seb and I. “You think that I might be immune to the Zeitnot virus? Like Q, because I was previously infected?”

Quentin leans to the fireplace and refills the cup in his hand before passing it down to Louise. Without thinking, I lean over and snatch another small chocolate bar from my pack and offer it to her. We don't have any milk, and Q and I haven’t found any sugar yet—though we didn’t look very hard.

Louise smiles weakly at me and squeezes my hand—our twined fingers still wrapped around the tiny bar of chocolate.

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