Pestilence (18 page)

Pest sensed him moving closer before his hand landed on Pest’s shoulder. He didn’t move away, simply absorbing the warmth from his fingers.

“Pestilence?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m a doctor. I should have been able to save them.”

“But no one knew what they were fighting. The bubonic virus was undetectable during your time. Those who survived were lucky. It didn’t mean you were a terrible doctor. You weren’t equipped to deal with an epidemic like that.”

Bart’s defense of him loosened something deep inside Pest.

“They trusted me to save them. When my son looked me in the eye and asked me if I’d make Mama better, I told him yes. I lied to him. By the time my wife died, he was so sick, he didn’t even know she’d gone. He kept asking for her, and I had to tell him his mother wouldn’t be coming to hold him. I couldn’t explain I let him down.” Pest banged his head against the glass. “Why didn’t I get sick? Why couldn’t I have been the one who died?”

“Maybe it simply wasn’t your time to go, though to be honest, I don’t believe in that sort of thing.” Death shrugged when both Bart and Pest looked at him.

“Really? You’re Death, and you don’t believe in a destined time for us to go?” Pest was surprised.

“Why? Should I?”

Pest hesitated and Bart coughed.

“You are Death. The one who comes for us all.”

Death’s eyebrows lowered slightly before he nodded. “Technically, you’re right, but I deal with massive deaths from epidemics, famine or war. I rarely deal with solitary deaths, though I occasionally do them. Large-scale death isn’t a matter of fate or destiny. It’s simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Bart turned to look at Pest. “Why are we discussing him? This is about you. You shouldn’t feel guilty for something you had no control over.”

“For some, guilt is a stronger prison than love or happiness.” Death pointed out. The Pale Horseman strolled away from them. “You must forgive yourself before you’ll ever be free of this prison of your own making.”

In a flash, Death was gone and Pest was left alone with Bart. His lover stared at the spot where Death had stood for several minutes before walking calmly over to the whiskey and taking a drink straight from the bottle. He flopped onto the couch and let his head drop back so he could look up at the ceiling.

Pest stayed where he stood. “Is all this too much for you? Are you thinking you must be dreaming or in one of your fever-induced hallucinations?”

Bart rolled his shoulders in a vague shrug. “While my head is telling me there’s no way any of this is possible, my gut and instincts are screaming that it all makes sense now.”

“I wish there was some way I could prove to you I am who I say I am, but the only way I could do it is by touching someone and I don’t want to make someone ill. It could start another epidemic and I don’t want that.” Pest joined Bart on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “What do we do now?”

“We go to bed and sleep on it. We have a bunch of stuff to do tomorrow, but I’ll be thinking about what you told me the entire time.” Bart chuckled softly. “You know how much Darvi and the others would freak out if they knew you were Pestilence and one of the Horsemen.”

“They can’t know. You have to promise never to tell anyone else, Bart. I wasn’t even supposed to tell you. I’m surprised Death let me say anything.”

“He seems like a nice guy, despite the most feared of all of you.”

Pest nodded. “He also is the one who accepted his role the easiest. War, Famine and I kind of separated ourselves from society while he lives among mortals. There is no guilt in him for what he does, yet he isn’t a sociopath or anything like that either.”

Bart stood. “Let’s go to bed and we’ll discuss this tomorrow, after my mind’s had time to process it.”

There wasn’t anything Pest could do but agree. They cleaned up the glasses and put the whiskey away before heading back to the bedroom. After crawling under the coverings, Pest lay, wondering if Bart would want to sleep in his embrace or if the knowledge of what he really was would make Bart fear him.

Bart slipped in next to him and settled, resting his head on Pest’s shoulder and throwing his arm over Pest’s stomach. Pest sighed silently and let his eyes drift close. He admitted to himself that for the first time since he became a Horseman, he was happy. Maybe it had to do with having finally told someone the truth. Or maybe it was simply because Bart put him at ease with himself.

He nuzzled into Bart’s curls and breathed deep of his scent. In his heart, he was starting to believe what Bart said. Even though he was a doctor, it wasn’t his fault his family died. He’d done all he could do to keep them alive, but he didn’t have the medicine or the knowledge to help them or any of the others he’d tried to save. Killing himself hadn’t been the way to honor their memories.

Touching the locket around his neck, he whispered, “I’ll always love you, Antoinette. You’re in my heart forever, Pietro, but it’s time for me to let go. I must live without looking backwards into the past. I might not like this job I have, but I will do it as best I can to honor you. Maybe someone will find a cure for the epidemic I bring them and help save lives instead of destroy them.”

An odd little breeze brushed his cheek and he could faintly smell the perfume Antoinette had always worn. Maybe it was simply his imagination, but it was almost like she understood and gave him her blessing. He smiled and pulled Bart closer.

They would go back to the hospital and see if they could help Darvi with whatever virus Jones and the others had caught. They had to make sure it didn’t spread beyond the people who already had it. Those worries were for tomorrow.

Pest closed his eyes and allowed Bart’s warmth to lull him to sleep.

Chapter Ten

Bart wanted to snarl at the nurse as she prepared another vial for more blood.

“You do realize you can only take so much blood from me before I pass out?”

“Are you feeling dizzy?” Her perfectly arched eyebrows rose.

“No,” he grumbled. “I’m just getting tired of feeling like a pin cushion.”

“Understandable, and this is the last test.”

He glanced up to see Pest and Darvi walk in. The minute they’d arrived at the hospital that morning, the nurse’d whisked Bart off to be poked and prodded while Pest received the royal treatment from Darvi and the rest of his team.

“You’ve gotten all the information you’re going to get from Dr. Winston that way. We’d like to talk with you now.” Darvi seemed more respectful today, like he realized Bart was something more than an experiment to Pest.

The nurse quickly finished what she was doing, bandaged Bart’s arm, and sent them on their way. Bart followed the two doctors to Darvi’s office where he was waved to a chair. Pest sat in the chair next to him with an almost silent sigh. For the first time since meeting Pest, Bart saw exhaustion in the Horseman’s eyes.

“Have you made any sort of breakthrough on what the virus might be that’s causing Jasper and the others to be sick?”

It was a lot to ask, considering they hadn’t even been there a full day yet, but he couldn’t help hoping they’d figured out how to save the men.

Pest shook his head. “No, but I do believe Dr. Darvi is closer than he was before.”

“In discovering what the virus or infection is that is making those men sick, we aren’t very close at all.” Darvi shook his head in disappointment. “But in finding medicine that will fight it, we are closer with Dr. Bianchi’s herbs, and we might be able to manufacture a drug in our labs to help combat it.”

“I brought you some cuttings and instructions on how to grow it. That way you don’t have to harvest it from the rainforest. I won’t allow anyone to come and deforest the land for a drug.” Pest settled back in his chair and crossed his legs, his white hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

“Yes, and we appreciate that.” Darvi looked at Bart. “Thank you for being generous enough to share your field notes with us. It helped us pinpoint the area your expedition traveled, which in turn, should help us determine the origin of the virus.”

“Then why did you want to talk to me?” Bart wasn’t sure what else he could add to the information.

“We need to know if Dr. Jones and the others were acting weird before they left you. Also, when did your symptoms start manifesting? We’re not sure about the incubation period on the disease.”

Bart thought back to the weeks leading up to his getting ditched by his fellow team members. Had there been any sign Jasper was thinking about leaving him behind? He didn’t remember any, though he did remember the instances he would find Jasper talking privately with Jameson, Koester or Schmidt. Were those the moments Jasper had plotted to dump Bart behind? If so, why had the others gone along with Jasper? It wasn’t like they didn’t get along. In fact, Bart thought they were all pretty friendly, but maybe professional jealousy had gotten in the way of their good sense.

“I’m not sure about odd behavior, but shortly after we discovered the plant Dr. Jones was searching for, and I helped establish the fact it was an entirely new species, he became increasingly determined to leave. It was almost like he’d found what he wanted, and had no interest in exploring anything else. Maybe he decided the one plant would make his career.” Bart shrugged. “He’d made the decision to cut the expedition short by five months and return to Harvard. I reminded him he would have to return some of the money he’d gotten, but he didn’t seem upset about that.”

“At first, when Dr. Jones returned, he said you had stayed behind in the jungle to continue researching the plant and possibly finding other new species. I got the impression Dr. Jones thought it would be enough to keep the money. When no one could find you or contact you in any way, he began saying you had seemed sick when you insisted they return without you. Or at least, you didn’t seem like yourself.” Darvi narrowed his dark eyes and pinned Bart with his intense gaze. “He was lying, wasn’t he?”

“I started running a low-grade fever one night. I didn’t really think anything of it, just attributed it to the humidity in that damn forest. The next day when I returned to camp, everyone was gone, even the porters and guides. All they left me was my tent and one week’s supply of food and water. They’d taken everything else, even my passport and field notes. I packed what I could and started hiking in the direction I thought they’d gone. By nightfall, I was so feverish, I was hallucinating and becoming dehydrated.”

Bart paused as he thought about those days wandering the jungle, never knowing where he was going or what he might find around the next bend. One night, he’d thought a jaguar had stalked him, though thank God, it hadn’t attack him. Luck had stayed with him because he knew how easy it would have been to be bitten by a snake or spider and die a painful death, or a million other ways he could’ve been killed. The Amazon was no place for a sick man who had no survival skills at all.

“I’m not sure how long I wandered around before I stumbled into a clearing and found Dr. Bianchi standing there. I have to admit I wasn’t sure if he was real or not. Seemed an odd place for a man to be standing, but I wasn’t going to complain. If he was real, he might be able to help me out.” Bart grinned at Pest. “He did help me out and healed me. Somehow he even managed to get me back home.”

“How long were you in the rainforest before you started feeling feverish?” Darvi glanced up from his notes.

“Well, I don’t think the fever was the first symptom. Looking back for specific clues, I’d say the first symptom was exhaustion. We’d been in the jungle for two months when I started being completely exhausted after only a few hours hiking and searching for plants. I attributed it to simply not being in shape and the temperature difference between Cambridge and the Amazon.” Bart scratched his head as he thought. “There was also a small rash on my left leg, right above my sock. I thought I’d just rubbed against something, like poison ivy or a plant like that.”

“Maybe that’s what this is. Poisoning from a plant,” Darvi murmured.

Pest shook his head. “No. Then all the men would have exhibited symptoms at the same time since they were in the same area. It wouldn’t have incubated like this virus has. And it would have gone away once the men washed several times.”

“You’re right. I suppose it was too simple an answer.” Darvi scribbled some lines down on his notes. “So it’s possible you came in contact with the virus at least two months before you started showing symptoms. It makes sense. Drs. Jones, Jameson, Koester and Schmidt had been back around two months before they started getting sick. Also, the man I sent to pick you up had been working for me and around these men for two months as well.”

“You’ll need to keep an eye on all your staff, Dr. Darvi. I’m not sure how the illness is transmitted, but it’s possible others will get sick before you can isolate the bacteria.” Pest gestured toward the pile of folders on Darvi’s desk. “You have all of my notes I kept during Dr. Winston’s illness. My observations and the things I tried. What worked and what didn’t. Hopefully those will be useful to you. I think I’ve done all I can to help you with this outbreak. You have everything well in hand, and to be honest, I dislike being around so many people.”

“Your reputation for solitude is well-known, Dr. Bianchi. I hope I can consult you if I have any questions.” Darvi stood.

Pest stood as well. “Yes, you may. I’ll give you a number and they will always be able to reach me.”

They shook hands and Bart wondered what he should be doing. Should he leave with Pest or stay around? Darvi took the decision out of his hands.

“We’d like you to stay, Dr. Winston. While we’ve completed our preliminary tests on you, I’m sure we’ll think of some others needing to be done as well. Also, I’d like you to talk to Jones and the others. I think seeing you and knowing you survived what they’re going through will help keep their spirits up.”

Bart wasn’t sure how well that would work, yet he was willing to give it a try. He didn’t care about Jasper as a lover anymore, but he didn’t want the man to die either. He stood and shook Darvi’s hand.