Elixir of Eve: The Keepers, Book One - A Fae Series Page 5

  He sat paralyzed wondering what had upset her so suddenly. This was a first for him.

  He picked up his glass and walked the few steps to where she sat.

  “I don’t understand why you are so upset…would you care to explain why you’re blowing me off so quickly? Usually I get to at least buy a drink or two before being cast aside.” He joked.

  She didn’t smile.

  She turned to him and looked him up and down carefully. Her playful expression was gone, replaced by a look of disgust.

  Aiden was utterly speechless.

  “You work for Arcata. You are everything that is wrong with the world. Do you realize how many acres of rainforest your company has ravaged or destroyed, gleaning samples to be used in exploratory research in your search for new drugs?” Her voice was was growing increasingly louder and Aiden glanced around, concerned they would start attracting attention.

  She seemed to just be getting started as she continued. “Those samples and research that will never been seen by universities and other public institutions. Those samples will make your company millions as you develop drugs you’ll hold the patent on for decades. A patent that will make the drug unaffordable to all but the wealthiest.”

  She shook her head with disdain.

  “Companies like yours are a bane to the collective scientific knowledge of the world. You kill people. There is actually blood on your hands.” She continued her rant, shifting to the price of oncology drugs and the lack of options for those who couldn’t pay. When she was done, half the bar stared at them, eyes wide.

  She stared him down, challenging him with her flaming gaze.

  “Brin, I think we should start over and I can explain why I’m here.” He tried using a soothing voice, but she wasn’t having it.

  She stood up and began slowly backing away.

  It was then he realized his mistake.

  “I never told you my name. How do you know my name?” She demanded.

  He thought briefly and decided on the truth, or at least the partial truth. “Well, I’m actually in New York to see you.”

  Brin stared back at him in confusion. “I thought you said you were here to meet with Robert.”

  “I was, but I understand you have special expertise in our interest area.” At the loose reference to Arcata her eyes flamed again and he rushed to get out the rest of his sentence before she bolted.

  “We are investigating an emergency drug to counteract the effects of a viral outbreak. You’ve probably seen it on the news. We need your help. We believe some of your research is directly applicable to this project.”

  He saw the flicker of academic interest. He had her.

  “Go on.” She nodded, still looking irritated.

  Aiden took a breath and launched into the explanation Aelwen had prepared. He explained their theory that a rare South American plant would be able to treat the virus.

  When he finished, he watched carefully as she sat down, contemplating his words.

  Finally, she raised her head and met his eyes.

  “Why do you need me? You can trek into the jungle just as easily without me and go pluck your plant.”

  Aiden shook his head. “We believe once the plant has been located, it must be synthesized into a vaccine within 24 hours in order to maintain its potency. We have mobile lab capabilities, so we can take the equipment out into the jungle for you to synthesize it using the technique you perfected last year for your new oncology drug. The trek to get the plant takes at least three days…” He trailed off as understanding flashed across her face.

  “You wouldn’t be able to get a viable specimen back in time.”

  “Correct.” He said with a nod.

  “You don’t have anyone who has perfected this technique? A big, fancy lab like yours?” She asked mockingly.

  Maybe he didn’t quite have her.

  He shook his head. “No, we would need you.”

  She nodded and smiled sweetly up at him.

  “Well, that’s too bad, Aiden. I would never work for someone who rapes the earth.” She said it quietly with plenty of venom infused, before spinning on a heel and storming out the door.

  Aiden stood, rooted to the spot, staring after her in wonder. What was he supposed to do now? She was the first woman who’d ever walked away from him. The crowd of people around him started clapping slowly.

  Aiden shook his head, bemused as he headed towards the exit. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Eight

  Brin’s Apartment

  Lower Manhattan

  Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows across my bed. I groaned and shielded my eyes.

  Dammit. I’d overslept.

  Memories of last night came to me in a rush, and I thought of the gorgeous man from the bar. I shook my head.

  A pharmaceutical rep of all people.

  I’d never felt so attracted to anyone in my life. He set me on fire. Those eyes.

  I groaned at the memory. When he’d looked at me with those piercing blue eyes, it felt as if he could read my mind.

  I cringed, remembering my behavior. I’d been so flustered. I knew I’d reacted more explosively than I should have upon finding out what he did for a living.

  Rolling into a sitting position I saw my phone flashing blue.

  I debated whether I should look at it. It was my first day of sabbatical. There were so many possibilities. I could go to the museum and see all the exhibits I’d missed over the last year. That idea was tempting.

  I stretched my arms above my head, then bent at the waist, folding into downward dog.

  Why are my hamstrings so tight?

  I sighed with relief at the deep stretch, grateful for the few moments of reflection afforded by my daily yoga practice.

  Feeling looser already, I sunk into plank, lowering into a mock push-up before pressing my palms to the cool hardwood and lifting my eyes and chest skyward into cobra.

  My eyes drifted to the stack of novels on my nightstand.

  I could spend the day reading. It was an indulgent thought. I loved reading, but never had time for anything not work-related.

  I moved through several poses with ease, feeling my muscles unwind.

  I could call my dad and set a lunch date, or even my brother.

  Pondering the endless possibilities, as I padded towards the kitchen.

  It had been a week since I’d seen Oren. We’d gone bowling. He’d crushed me, striking it lucky and finishing over 200. Then, in true Oren-fashion, he’d broken out into an embarrassing dance in the middle of the bowling alley.

  I laughed. Oren was still so much a kid, though he was only four years younger than me.

  Whatever I did, today would be a good day, I decided.

  “Ugh.” I mumbled, discovering I was almost out of my favorite dark roast. I turned the bag upside down and emptied the remaining beans into the grinder before heading to the fridge in search of cream.

  I snatched the French vanilla creamer off the top shelf and deposited it on the counter. Thinking it too quiet for my first day of vacation, I hit the button on my iPod and flipped to my favorite playlist, spinning around happily as the sound of Adele filled my kitchen.

  Preoccupied with thoughts of the mysterious Aiden, I almost burned myself pouring water into the French press.

  “Ouch!” I popped the injured digit into my mouth, cursing my clumsiness. Leaving the coffee on the counter to steep, I wandered back to my room to retrieve my phone.

  I had several missed calls – all of them from my father. Worried, I hit play and began listening to my voicemail.

  “Brin, honey, I need you to call me back as soon as you get this. It’s your brother. He’s very sick. We’re at the hospital now. Please come as soon as you can.” His voice cracked and the message ended.

  ***

  I shoved a twenty-dollar bill towards the cab driver and raced through the hospital entrance.

  Realizing I had no id
ea what room Oren was in, I swiped frantically at my phone, finally hitting my father’s contact number.

  He answered after the first ring, his voice anxious.

  “Brin? Did you listen to my message?”

  “Yes, dad. Where’s Oren? Is he okay?” The words tumbled out as I hurried across the lobby towards the elevators.

  “Yes, he’s okay for now. We’re in room 312.” His voice was tired. My stomach twisted with guilt. If only I’d listened to my messages sooner.

  “I’m coming right up.” I assured him, pushing the button for the third floor and hanging up. The elevator groaned and creaked, taking forever. When the doors slid open I rushed down the hallway towards the nurses’ station.

  I approached a plump, mousy brunette wearing green scrubs with dancing cats. Her nametag read Sarah.

  “Excuse me. Where can I find 312?”

  The nurse looked up, clearly upset to be bothered. She gestured towards the hallway behind her.

  “Right that way, to the next nurses’ station.”

  I rushed off in the direction she indicated, spotting my father standing at the end of the hall talking to a short, balding man in a white coat.

  He sensed my presence and looked up.

  “Brin, thank goodness you’re here.”

  My father was a quiet man with the dignified air one would expect of a retired college history professor. He had a head full of messy grey hair. An attempt had been made to comb it to one side.

  There were lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there last time we’d been together and he wore a rumpled blue shirt, tucked into dark slacks. it was clear from his somewhat unkempt appearance he hadn’t been home to shower or change. It looked like he’d slept at the hospital.

  I felt immediately guilty. Where had I been last night? That stupid nightclub. I moved to join him, pulling him into a quick hug.

  The man in the white coat, who I presumed to be Oren’s doctor cleared his throat. “You must be Miss Yates. I’m Dr. Porter.”

  He stuck out a large hand and I clasped it firmly.

  “It’s good to meet you, Dr. Porter. What’s wrong with my brother?” I wasted no time getting to the point, looking expectantly at the older man.

  Dr. Porter seemed like a patient man. He smiled sympathetically at me and cleared his throat again. “Well, I was just starting to tell your father Oren appears to have some type of virus. We’ve been unable to determine exactly what it is yet.”

  I pursed my lips, frowning. “What are his symptoms?”

  My father answered. His words coming out strained. “We were playing chess last night at my apartment and Oren kept complaining of a headache and dizziness. I thought it was nothing, dehydration perhaps, so I gave him some Tylenol and a glass of water and we kept playing. Midway through our game Oren said he was seeing spots. That, of course, worried me, so I went to call my doctor, and when I came back into the room Oren was slumped over the chair unconscious. I called an ambulance and they brought him here.”

  His brow furrowed with worry and I squeezed his hand reassuringly.

  “Well, how is he feeling now?” I asked, looking expectantly at Dr. Porter.

  Dr. Porter’s eyes were kind, his expression serious. “Oren is stable, but he hasn’t regained consciousness. He has a low-grade fever. We’re monitoring him. I went ahead and sent some samples to the CDC. We’re concerned he may have contracted this mysterious tropical virus that seems to be spreading.”

  My eyes widened and I looked at my father in surprise. “He hasn’t woken up?”

  He patted my hand consolingly. “He will, Brin. Oren is a fighter.”

  The doctor continued. “Once we have the samples back we’ll know for sure, but Oren has the same symptoms we’ve seen in all the other cases.”

  “How could a tropical illness have moved so far North so quickly?”

  “That’s where we’re stuck, I’m afraid.” The doctor frowned and shook his head.

  I shook my own head in frustration. “I want to see him.”

  My father nodded, exchanging a few words with Dr. Porter before taking my hand and leading me to room 312. As I pushed the door open, a feeling of dread twisted in my gut.

  Oren lay in bed, hooked up to all types of machines, a breathing tube in his mouth.

  “Oh God.” I bit my lip to keep from crying[LK5].

  I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Oren. We’d always had each other. He’d been my rock when our father disappeared into his study with a bottle of scotch and a stack of books, preferring to immerse himself in the lives of the long dead, rather than face the pain and discomfort of living in a world without our mother. Despite our father’s retreat into himself, Oren and I had continued to live in the world, knowing despite the hardships we faced, we always had each other to lean on.

  I ran a hand over my brother’s forehead, brushing his blonde locks away from his eyes. He was a mere shadow of himself, skin pale and sallow, limbs limp. I bit my lip, willing the stinging in my eyes to go away.

  There was no way I was going to sit in this room watching him wither away. I had to do something. Suddenly, it hit me. The man I’d met last night. He was developing a drug to treat the very virus that sickened Oren.

  I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I would accept his offer. Oren would get better. I would figure out how to cure him.

  Resolved, I stooped to kiss his clammy forehead, whispering, “Hang on little brother.”

  I hugged him as best I could. Then, I reached into my purse and pulled out a small, green stone.

  It was shaped like a horse. Oren and I had found it in a creek bed behind our house. He’d deemed it the good luck stone. We’d passed it back and forth over the years. It was a reminder of the mountains and open skies we came from before our father had accepted a teaching job at NYU and dragged us halfway across the country.

  Oren held onto the stone for the better part of our time in New York, passing it to me when I got my job at the University.

  I set the stone on his bedside table. It was his turn to keep it.

  Turning around, I found myself face to face with my father. Wordlessly, I pulled him into a hug.

  "I love you, dad. Watch over him for me.” I murmured, my voice cracking.

  “Of course I will…but where are you going?” He asked, pushing my back so he could look in my eyes.

  “Yesterday I was invited to join the team developing the drug that will cure this.” I gestured toward where Oren lay. “I turned it down. I’m going to go tell them I changed my mind.”

  My father nodded his understanding, pulling me back into a hug, with uncharacteristic affection. I squeezed him and we stood there for a moment hugging. My father was the first to let go, his expression solemn.

  “Brin, I love you very much. You know that, right?”

  I nodded, trying to keep the tears from spilling from my watery eyes. “Yes, dad. I know.”

  He nodded with satisfaction, studying me intently. “I know I never told you enough when you were a kid, but you were always so independent, so sure of your path. I never had to worry, knowing you were there for Oren. I should have let you be a kid. You had to grow up so fast…” He trailed off, choking up.

  I clasped his forearm. “No, dad. It’s okay. I loved being there for Oren, being able to help you after you lost mom. Don’t think of the past.”

  My father and I stood there in silence, but we communicated with each other more openly than we had in years. I stared into his faded blue eyes and saw his love, tinged as it was with regret.

  “I’m very proud of you.” He said, eyes flickering with repressed emotion. “Despite everything, you’ve grown to be an incredible young woman.” His voice wavered and he looked like he might say more, but he pressed his lips together and nodded, as if he had said his piece.

  “It’s okay.” I replied. “We have to look forward now.”

  He nodded and straightened, his composure returning. “Yes. You’re right. I wi
ll watch over Oren. Go do what you have to do.”

  I nodded and gave his arm a final squeeze before ducking out the door.

  I was fumbling in my pocket for my cellphone to call Sam, when I discovered a cocktail napkin. On it was scrawled an address in Midtown. In case you change your mind.

  I shook my head, annoyance fading to gratitude as I realized if it weren’t for the napkin I’d have no way of finding him.

  ***

  Thanking the driver, I stared up at the building in front of me. It was a high-rise, one of the city’s older buildings. The classic architecture stood as a testament to old wealth.

  “Of course. Where else would he stay, but a ritzy corporate apartment, funded with blood money?” I mumbled to myself. This earning me a suspicious look from the blue-haired woman in a pink suit, who was exiting the building with a fluffy Pomeranian in tow.

  I blushed and smiled in her direction, trying to appear normal. She narrowed her eyes and kept walking. She was followed by an older gentleman, who offered me a hesitant smile. Slipping inside, I walked towards the elevator.

  “Excuse me, miss. You have to sign the visitor log.”

  A white uniformed guard sat at a desk in the marble lobby, gesturing towards a clipboard on the counter.

  I smiled apologetically, filling out the lines and watching the guard’s expression as I glanced down at the napkin in my hand. He smiled at me, a knowing look on his face.

  “It’s not what it looks like.” I defended myself, frowning down at the wrinkled cocktail napkin and pursing my lips at the guard, whose expression remained unchanged. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and shuffled nervously. Examining the clipboard and my ID, the guard nodded, then gestured towards the elevators.

  “Just hit PH when you get in and I’ll send you up.”

  I nodded and thanked him, darting toward the elevator in my eagerness to escape.

  “PH… penthouse.” The sudden realization that I was dressed like I’d just spent the weekend binging on Netflix and take-out did nothing to calm the inner fluttering of my stomach. Fantastic. As if the whole thing weren’t humiliating enough.

  Impatiently, I tapped my foot in time to the creaking of the elevator. Finally, the doors opened and I found myself in an immaculate white lobby. Orchids covered every surface.