"What fun!"
He glanced at her mischievously. "Want to try it out?"
"No, thanks. I've already had my morning sex."
"Peri," Tachyon complained in a teasing tone, "I don't understand why you're attracted to that man." He retrieved his red leather medical bag from the closet. "Sit there," he said, indicating a plush velvet wingback chair, "and open your mouth. Say ahhh."
"Ahh," Peregrine repeated obediently after seating herself. Tachyon peered down her throat. "Well, that looks nice and healthy." He swiftly examined her ears and looked into her eyes. "Seems okay. Tell me about your symptoms." He removed his stethoscope from his bag. "Nausea, vomiting, dizziness?"
"Some nausea and vomiting."
"When? After you eat?"
"No, not really. Anytime."
"Do you get sick every day?"
"No. Maybe a couple times a week."
"Hmmmm." He lifted her shirt up and held his stethoscope against her left breast. She jumped at the touch of cold steel against her warm flesh. "Sorry… heartbeat is strong and regular. How long has this vomiting been occurring?"
"A couple of months, I guess. Since before the tour started. I thought it was stress related."
He frowned. "You've been vomiting for a couple of months, and you didn't see fit to consult me? I am your doctor."
She squirmed uncomfortably. "Tachy, you've been so busy. I didn't want to bother you. I think it's all the traveling, the food, different water, different standards of hygiene."
"Allow me to make the diagnosis, if you please, young lady. Are you getting enough sleep, or is your new boyfriend keeping you up all hours?"
"I'm getting to bed early every night," she assured him. "I'm certain you are," he said drily. "But that wasn't what I asked. Are you getting enough sleep?"
Peregrine blushed. "Of course I am."
Tachyon replaced his equipment in his bag. "How's your menstrual cycle? Any problems?"
"Well, I haven't had a period in a while, but that's not unusual, even though I'm on the pill."
"Peri, please try to be a little more precise. How long is `a while'?"
She bit her lip and waved her wings gently. " I don't know, a couple of months, I guess."
"Hmmmmm. Come here." He led her into his bedroom, and her wings instinctively curled over her body. The air conditioner was going full blast and it felt about twenty degrees cooler. Tachyon gestured at the bed. "Take off your jeans and lie down."
"Are you sure this is a medical examination?" she asked him teasingly.
"Do you want me to call a chaperon?"
"Don't be silly. I trust you!"
"You shouldn't," Tachyon leered. He raised an eyebrow as Peregrine kicked off her Nikes and peeled off her jeans. "Don't you wear underwear?"
"Never. It gets in the way. Do you want me to take off my shirt too?"
"If you do, you may never leave this room!" Tachyon threatened.
She laughed and kissed his cheek. "What's the big deal? You've examined me a million times."
"In the proper surroundings, with you in a medical gown and a nurse in the room," he retorted. "Never with you naked, almost naked," he corrected, "in my bedroom." He tossed her a towel. "Here, cover yourself."
Tachyon admired her long, tanned legs and shapely buttocks as she arranged herself on his bed, draping the towel discreetly over her hips. The blast of refrigerated air coming from the laboring air conditioner raised goosebumps all over her, but Tachyon ignored them.
"Your hands better be warm," Peregrine warned as he knelt next to her.
"Just like my heart," Tachyon said, palpating her stomach. "Does this hurt?"
"No."
"Here? Here?"
She shook her head.
"Don't move," he ordered. "I need my stethoscope." This time he warmed the metal head with his hand before placing it on her stomach. "Have you had much indigestion?"
"Some."
A strange expression crossed Tachyon's foxy face as he assisted her off the bed. "Get your jeans on. I'll take a blood sample, and then you can go play tourist with the others."
He got the syringe ready while she finished tying her track shoes. Peregrine held out her arm, winced as he expertly raised the vein, swabbed the skin above it, inserted the syringe, and withdrew the blood. She watched in fascination and suddenly realized that the sight of blood was making her ill.
"Shit." She ran into the bedroom, leaving behind a flurry of feathers, and leaned over the toilet vomiting up her room service breakfast and what was left of last night's dinner and champagne.
Tachyon held her shoulders while she was sick, and as she sagged against the tub, exhausted, wiped her face with a warm, wet washcloth.
"Are you all right?"
"I think so." He helped her to her feet. "It was the blood. Although the sight of blood has never bothered me before."
"Peregrine, I don't think that you should go sight-seeing this morning. The place for you is bed, alone, with a cup of hot tea."
"No," she protested. "I'm fine. It's just all this traveling. If I feel sick, josh will bring me back here."
"I'll never understand women." He shook his head sadly. "To prefer a mere human when you could have me. Come here and I'll bandage that hole I put in your arm." He busied himself with sterile gauze and tape.
Peregrine smiled gently. "You're sweet, Doctor, but your heart is buried in the past. I'm getting to the point now that I'm ready for a permanent relationship, and I don't think you would give me that."
"And he can?"
She shrugged, her wings moving with her shoulders. "I hope so. We'll see, won't we?"
She picked up her bag and hat from the chair and walked to the door.
"Peri, I wish you would reconsider."
"What? Sleeping with you or sight-seeing?"
"Sight-seeing, wicked one."
"I'm fine now. Please stop worrying. Honestly, I've never had so many people worrying about me as on this trip."
"That's because, my dear, under your New York glamour, you're incredibly vulnerable. You make people want to protect you." He opened the door for her. "Be careful with McCoy, Peri. I don't want you to get hurt."
She kissed him as she left the room. Her wings brushed the doorway and a flurry of fine feathers fell to the floor. "Damn," she said, stooping and picking one up. "I seem to be losing a lot of these lately."
"Indeed?" Tachyon looked curious. "No, don't bother with them. The maid will clean them up."
"Okay. Good-bye. Have fun with your tests."
Tachyon's eyes were worried as they followed Peregrine's graceful body down the hallway. He closed the door, one of her feathers in his hand.
"This doesn't look good," he said aloud as he tickled his chin with her feather. "Not good at all."
Peregrine spotted McCoy in the lobby talking to a stocky, dark man in a white uniform. Her two other companions were lounging nearby. Hiram Worchester, she reflected, was looking a little haggard. Hiram, one of Peregrine's oldest and dearest friends, was dressed in one of his custom-made tropical-weight suits, but it hung loosely on him, almost as if he had lost some of his three hundred plus pounds. Perhaps he was feeling the strain of constant traveling as much as she was. Father Squid, the kindly pastor of the Church of Jesus Christ, joker, made Hiram look almost svelte. He was as tall as a normal man and twice as broad. His face was round and gray, his eyes were covered by nictitating membranes, and a cluster of tentacles hung down over his mouth like a constantly twitching mustache. He always reminded her of one of Lovecraft's fictional Deep Ones, but he was actually much nicer.