Dr. Nikas took me firmly by the shoulders in an unexpectedly strong grip and turned me with the stool until I faced away from Philip again. He pressed me back until I could feel Philip jerking and shaking against me, and held me there.
“Angel, I need you to stay right here,” he said, voice calm and reassuring. “He’s going to be fine, but I need you to help me by remaining still and keeping in contact with him. It’s important. You have it?”
Gulping, I met his eyes and nodded. “I got it. Sorry,” I said. “That was seriously freaky.”
He squeezed my shoulders, then released me and turned away to work with the vials and syringes on the tray. Dr. Nikas always fixed things, but that didn’t keep my heart from trying to thump its way out of my chest. Philip gurgled and twitched, and I held my back against his. “You’re gonna be okay,” I said, as much to reassure myself as him.
A tall and angular man with close-cropped red hair slid to a stop in the doorway—Reg, his head swiveling this way and that as he took in the scene. Jacques barked out a couple of orders for an ice pack and “brain formula ninety-nine,” and Reg disappeared again.
My cheek started itching, and I fought the urge to scratch it—partly because I wasn’t supposed to move and mostly because of the fear it would be gross and rotten like Philip’s.
Dr. Nikas returned to us with three syringes in his hand then injected them, one after another, into Philip’s IV. I waited anxiously for them to work and let out a breath of relief when Philip relaxed about a minute later. Reg entered with the needed items in hand and passed the ice pack to Jacques.
“Philip, count backward from one hundred. Odd numbers only,” Dr. Nikas said.
“Ninety-nine, ninety-seven, ninety-five,” Philip responded, voice a little rough but steady.
“Good,” Dr. Nikas said. “Reg has brains for you with additives. Eat both packets and hold the ice pack on your jaw for about ten minutes, and you should feel much better.”
Calm and collected as though nothing happened, Jacques moved to me and began reattaching the wires I’d pulled loose. All in a day’s work. Reg efficiently tidied the counter top and straightened the remaining syringes, then departed as silently as a ninja. A zombie ninja.
“What happened?” I asked.
Dr. Nikas released a breath. “An overreaction by Philip’s parasite to the stimulation by your parasite,” he explained as he took a syringe from Jacques. “With the imprint link between you two, Philip’s parasite reflected the reaction of yours but, because of its damaged state, it responded inappropriately. That said, the whole episode helped me understand better how to assist his parasite to normalize.”
“You mean the whole face falling off thing was good?” I asked doubtfully.
“Not much fun,” he replied with a slight smile, “but, yes, it was good since it was under controlled conditions and gave me a great deal of information. I’ve made adjustments and suspect it will be smooth sailing through the remainder of the procedure.”
“I’m all for smooth,” I assured him. “That was enough excitement for one day.”
“I understand completely, Angel,” Dr. Nikas said. “The good news is that there’s nothing you need to do but be still for about half an hour while the parasites commune.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“You’ll need to be still for about half an hour while the parasites commune.” His eyes flashed with amusement.
“Are you accusing me of being fidgety?” I made a show of trying to roll my duct taped chair. “Jacques made sure I wouldn’t break anything this time.”
Dr. Nikas laughed and shook his head, then moved off to check the monitoring equipment. “Philip, how are you feeling now?”
“Good. I had a killer headache during the procedure, but now I feel better than when I came in,” he said, his voice clear again. “The leg pain is gone, and I’m not as tired.”
“Excellent.” Dr. Nikas made notes on the whiteboard and muttered to himself. “Excellent,” he repeated a moment later as he stepped back to take in the whole of what he’d written. “Thank you, Jacques. That’s all I need for now.” The lab tech nodded and departed, and Dr. Nikas glanced our way. “Everything appears stable, so at the moment we’re simply waiting. Philip, keep the ice pack on your jaw.”
His cell phone rang, and he answered with a simple “Yes?” then listened for a few seconds. “Now?” He frowned, glanced back at us, then to the whiteboard. “Are you—? Yes, all right.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket, glanced at us and gave a vague smile, then departed.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked Philip.
“Bright and shiny, Zombie Mama,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to do that every day, but if it helps me, I’m not going to complain.”
“Good deal,” I said, truly relieved. “You sure are full of surprises.”
He snorted. “If I heard right, it was your parasite that overreacted.”
“And yours that couldn’t cope,” I teased. Laughing at the horror of it made it easier not to freak about it.
“Angel, you need to hold still,” Philip reminded me, and I realized I’d started fidgeting and swiveling the seat. I needed something to distract me.
“Damn,” I muttered. “I left my phone with my audiobook in the central lab.”
“What are you listening to?” Philip asked.
“Uh . . .” I racked my brain for something that didn’t sound as stupid as what I was actually listening to. “Moby Dick,” I blurted.
There was a moment of pregnant silence before Philip spoke again. “Really?”
I groaned. “No. I lasted about five minutes into that book before I gave up on it. Now I’m listening to Passion of the Viking.”
He made a strange cough that I knew damn well was him choking back a laugh. “Is his helmet horny?”
“Shut up.”
“Does he go all berserker with her?”
“I swear to god, I will cut you.”
He snickered, but wisely held back any more commentary.
I busied myself by counting tiles on the floor, then tiles on the ceiling. Thankfully, Jacques entered right about the time I was trying to figure out how many speckles each floor tile had. I gave him an expectant look, but his full focus was on the readings on the computer screen. Not that I expected him to be all chatty. He wasn’t exactly known for being overly talkative. But it was still better than counting tile specks.
“Almost done?” I asked hopefully.
“Forty seconds,” he murmured, eyes glued to the screen.
“Good,” I said with a sigh of relief. “I’m starving for some real food.”
I felt Philip shift at my back. “You want to grab a bite?” he asked. “There’s a great cafe in Tucker Point, and I’m heading that way.”
“Sure thing!” I replied.
“Time,” Jacques said and began to turn off and disconnect the various monitors.
“It’s not fancy,” Philip continued, “but the food is good.”
I gave Jacques a smile of thanks as he removed the IV and the last of the other stuff. “Good food works for me.” But my eyes went to Jacques as he returned to stare at the whiteboard. “Everything cool, Jacques?”
His brow furrowed, gaze remaining on the whiteboard for another few seconds, then he moved to the cookie sheet of injectables to check what was there. He finally looked up and gave me a nod. “You can go.”
I stood and stretched to work out the kinks in my back. “Is Dr. Nikas still around?”