Chapter 29

Pain coursed through her nerve endings, like fire licking along her skin, working its way up and down her body. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out; she was frozen, paralyzed while the fire ate at her. Panic and nausea slammed into her and she fought against the disconnect in her body.

Cool hands pressed against her burning cheeks. Someone was there in the fire with her, if they could just put it out...

Tears flowed from her eyes.

Somewhere voices argued, but she couldn't pull herself out of the pain. Why wasn't anyone helping her? Then, there was the flow of cooling numbness and the darkness reached up and swallowed her once more.

The next time she awoke, the pain was far less intense. Instead of burning in a raging fire, her body felt raw and bruised. She blinked sand crusted lids and opened her eyes to the brilliant white of a room she had seen before. She was in the medical building.

A face appeared above her. It looked vaguely familiar; she was sure this was one of the Livarians, though she hadn't interacted with this man directly.

“How's the pain?” he asked, his voice soft and sympathetic.

“Intense,” she croaked and tried to move her head. The bed they had put her in was likely as the best they had, but it felt like sandpaper against open wounds when she moved.

“It's best if you lay still,” the man cautioned.

She moaned, but ignored him, taking in the room around her anyway. It was small, and almost glaringly sterile. There were no windows, but she was hooked up to some medical equipment. Machines she couldn't identify hummed quietly next to her head, attached to her body with long lines. The only break in the persistent whiteness was a single chair propped into the corner. Draven's blue eyes met hers from his position sitting on it, his face unreadable.

“What happened? What's wrong with me?”

The man above her turned from the readouts on the machines and raised his brows at Draven.

“It's the Attaphus. You were infected via a drone that disguised its presence by giving off the life signature of a small rodent. We don't know how it got through the energy field.”

A deep, sinking sense of doom washed over her. “The Attaphus virus?” The world killer.

Something raw crossed Draven's expression.

“We will do our best to keep you comfortable, but what we have learned from reports is that the pain gets worse for several days. After that it gets immeasurably better. Unfortunately, this is the point at which the virus has severed most of the body's nervous system and there is little time left before it consumes the rest of the body's functions.”

Mia swallowed, or, she tried to, the lump in her throat was making it impossible. The virus, the disease that had killed the Livarians. Highly contagious with a hundred percent death rate. She wouldn't be the only one affected by its appearance. She turned her head and looked at Draven again.

“You shouldn't be here,” she told him.

“I told you you should not have come,” the medic grunted. “If you'd left her to my care in isolation there's a small possibility the virus would run its course with the two of us.”

Even Mia could hear the lie in the man's voice. Isolation might delay the inevitable, but if it worked that way then their people would have practiced it before their entire population had collapsed.

“I'm not leaving,” Draven spoke, and his words held the kind of finality that brooked no argument.

The medic nodded, though his brows pushed together, and his lips pursed.

“Mia's infection hit fast since it was delivered directly to her bloodstream. I give us a week before we start to show symptoms, as with anyone else who has been in contact with her since the attack.”

She stopped listening, the tears coming in earnest now, salty streaks of pain as they made their way down her face.

“I don't want to die,” she whispered. Maybe her life hadn't been much, but it was hers, and she wasn't ready to give it up yet. She realized that she hadn't done anything; she had dreamed of travel and adventure. There had even been a small part of her that had acknowledged that one day she would be over Brian, and then she might find that relationship she had been hoping for. It all seemed stupid now, why had she wasted so much time moping and following routine. She'd never allowed herself to spend outside of her strict budget. Even here on Callaphria she had hidden herself away, taking the least risky path over and over again.

Draven appeared next to her, his face fierce even though he was careful not to touch her. She was grateful for that, at least; if the sheets of the bed tore at her nerves, she couldn't imagine human touch.

“You are not going to die,” he growled.

Despite the situation, she raised her brows at him. Did he really think he could command the virus away? Was he really that arrogant?

“I am sending teams into the city's heart. We will find the research of my people.”

“I thought that no one had found a cure.”

“We are going to change that,” his jaw clenched and something ticked there. “And you will not give in. Fight this with everything you have, Mia, you are going to come through it.”

Mia found the corner of her mouth lifting. He really did think he was going to command her to beat the virus, something none of his people had been able to do. And now the rest of them would join the fallen. Her smile faded, the thought somehow dragging a deep ache through her body.

The medic moved from his position and looked her in the eye.

“We've reached your limit on Biskil 4, that's our painkiller that is keeping you from clawing your skin off while your awake. I'm going to put you under, it's the only way I can keep you comfortable,” his voice was apologetic. “When the Biskil leaves your system and you are able to handle more, we will bring you out again. It won't be as pleasant though, the drug will eventually lose its potency.”

Fear clenched her tight in its fist. She didn't want to be put under and she didn't want to die. There hadn't been time to process her situation at all.

“Mia,” Draven commanded. Her gaze caught on his and he held her there. “It's going to be ok.”

The next time she awoke it was quiet in the room. The doctor, or medic or whatever, the Livarian had been gone and it was only Draven sitting in his chair in the corner looking tired and defeated. She turned her head toward him, muscles screaming in protest at the movement. He raised his head and she caught a glimpse of the immense weight of emotion pressing down on him before he shuttered his expression.

He pulled his chair across the room to her bedside.

“Hey,” she croaked.

“Hey.”

“How long have I been gone?”

“Nearly twenty-four hours. The drug took longer to leave your system than we anticipated.”

“Any progress on the virus?”

Draven's face was carefully blank, but his hesitation spoke loud enough.

Mia nodded, before forgetting that movement was a bad idea. Fear and desperation threatened to overwhelm her, but she really didn't want to spend her only moments awake in a panic.

“Tell me what happens with the women?”

The lines at the corner of his mouth loosened a little.

“Well, you will be happy to know that the men have decided to cede to your advice. A variety of tasks have opened up for those who wish. Your two friends, in particular, seemed keen on the idea. Did you know Phoebe was a computer programmer on your world?”

Mia shook her head. She hadn't known that about her friend's past.

Draven tilted his head. “Apparently she is very keen to learn our technology, with Huntak's help.”

Mia hid a grin that tried to form.

“And Becky? How's she doing?”

“Becky has been tasked with creating a smaller version of our botanic park, closer to the dorms. She has been given a section of the park to work with and spent most of the day yesterday transplanting flowers from other areas of the compound,” he paused. “They have both asked to come see you, but it is best to limit exposure.”

Mia felt her throat closing and fought to keep back the tears. She understood. She didn't want anyone else to be exposed to the virus, though she wasn't sure that was going to help.

“What about whoever did this?”

Draven's jaw clenched and his eyes hardened. “The drone is not recognizable. It isn't one of ours and it isn't our technology. Huntak is working on tracing its origins, but we have gleaned little information so far. He has reprogrammed the energy field according to its signature so no more drones will be slipping past, even if the field opens to let others out. As for the perpetrator, our teams are scouring the streets. When he is found, there will be no mercy.”

“Nothing yet?”

“It is a large city. If the enemy is small in number, it would be very easy to hide.”

She sighed, weariness pulling out every ache in her bones right down to her very heart. The medic was right, the pain was returning faster.

“I am ready to sleep,” she told Draven.

He frowned, that weight she had seen earlier returning to his posture. He reached toward her, one strong hand gliding across the whitened sheets but stopping just short of touching. She longed to reach out and clasp his fingers, but even making a small movement with her hand was agonizing.

“Hang on Mia. Fight for this like you fight for everything else,” Draven held her gaze, his expression determined. “Promise me.”

Stubborn Livarian.

“I promise.”

The third time she awoke it was to a commotion. Her little white room was no longer a quiet, sterile sanctuary. This time, pain filled her immediately, just on the edge of bearable. She felt weak and ravaged, as though someone had torn off her skin and muscles and then patted them back in place. It took every effort she had to focus and turn to the room.

Draven and two others stood beside her bed, fierce expressions on their stony faces. That was interesting, but what was more interesting was who...or what…knelt between them. Head lowered, the man, for he surely was male in build, waited without fighting. Blood and grit marred the ratted fabric that stretched across his shoulders. Silvery white hair fell like silken water over his face, hiding his features.

“Fix it,” Draven commanded.

“Easy, Prime. It is what I promised to do, is it not?” The white haired man's voice was wiry and thin. His face turned upward, rich golden eyes with a flair of manic meeting hers. She sucked in a breath. It hurt like a bastard and she held back the low moan that tried to escape.

He must have been beautiful, once. Not the rugged and handsome features that all the Livarians seemed to share, this man...or whatever he was…had an almost surreal beauty, even in his late years. It put her in mind of the elves in all the high fantasy movies at home: slender, graceful and powerful, except instead of a glowing white skin, this man's skin had the deep tan of someone who had spent most of his life outside. He had a proud face, with high cheekbones and a jaw that was once well defined. His lip was split, and several bruises marred his skin.

He stood, nearly as tall as the Livarians; she could tell from the definitions in the fabric he wore that he was slender, maybe underfed. Long fingers reached toward her and she came back to herself, doing her best to flinch away.

“Be still woman.”

That wasn't very reassuring, and she struggled against the lethargy of her limbs, fire and raw pain screaming along her body as she moved. It was useless because his fingers reached her anyway, burning her wrist as he clasped it, even though she could see he was gentle. He turned her arm over, drawing a whimper from her, and studied the underside of her wrist.

“It is almost too late,” he turned, meeting Draven's eyes. “My satchel, please.”

Draven hesitated. He really didn't want to trust the man, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“How are we to know you will not make it worse?”

The man's eyebrow's lifted toward his hairline. “Worse than the Attaphus?”

Draven frowned. “For all we know, this is your fault to begin with. It is hardly a good coincidence that your appearance follows that of the drone. How do we know that this isn't some machination to get into the compound and barter a false cure?”

Mia perked up. A cure? She didn't care how he came to have it, she wanted to get better, she wasn't ready to die.

“Indeed,” the man agreed, which, Mia thought, was a mistake given the furious step Draven took toward him. To the man's credit, he didn't flinch, or back away, though Mia was starting to suspect his injuries had been very intentional. He did toss a wild look around the room before continuing. “You cannot know these things, but you will need to make a decision. Do you want the cure or not?”

“Yes,” Mia tried to nod. Draven's gaze flitted to her for a moment before returning to the white haired man. He seemed to hesitate for a long moment on the edge of a decision and then he relented, tossing a small brown bag onto the floor.

The foriegn man nodded respectfully and then opened the top of the satchel and pulled out a long tube filled with a clear fluid.

“This is going to sting a little,” he met her eyes and waited until she gave a little nod. He took the tube and pressed it, hard, against her thigh.

Mia screamed as something sharp pierced her skin; the fire was back, spreading from the injection, and now it wasn't numbed at all. Something was happening at the side of her bed, but she couldn't pull out of the pain enough to focus, or care.

“Put her under,” Draven's voice roared above the chaos, above her screams.

For once, Mia didn't care. The sweet darkness was already crowding her consciousness and she couldn't help but think that even death would be better than the pain. When the numbness came for her, she embraced it fully.