Page 72 of Lucie
Chapter Thirty-Five
Immunity
The doctor wasn’t there when they arrived at what used to be the examination room. A small fire in the center of the floor was the only source of light, forget the heat. The place reeked of alcohol, reminding Lucien of howRenkenhad described Iain’s use of it.
The battle lord took everything in with a glance. “Aren’t you supposedto have one more patient, Doctor? Where’sDurrow?”
Iain gritted his teeth in momentary anger. “He didn’t make it.”
“I thought you said he’d recover,” Lucien reminded him.
The physician’s jaw clenched again. “Not when someone slit his throat.” Lucien and his father stared in stunned silence at the young man, who nodded. “It seems someone wanted to makesureDurrowdidn’t recover.”
Yulensat on the floor, next to Atty. She was lying on her side, next to a puddle of fluid the doctor had managed to excavate from her lungs.Johnawas lying on the other end of the room, also on her side, and with a similar patch of wetness by her head. Iain had done his best to clear the room of dirt and dust, and lay saddle blankets down so his patients wouldn’thave to lie on the bare ground.
Lucien dropped to his knees next toJohna. She was completely out of it. Sweat rolled off her pale face, and he could hear how every breath she struggled to draw gurgled in her chest.
Iain finally reentered the clinic, a saddle in his arms. Going over toAtty, he placed it on the blanket spread out next to her, then pointed to it. “Sitdown, Luc.” Lucien silently obeyed. Crouching in front of him, Iain checked his eyes, then took his pulse. “You’re not sick.”
“I could have told you that. I don’t feel the least bit ill.”
“Then I believe it’s safe to say you won’t. Not at this time, at least.” The man sat back on his heels. “Your father and I had a conversation earlier. Your mother is getting worse,and I don’t think she’s going to make it without outside help.”
Lucien looked to his father, who remained mute, but the battle lord’s face betrayed his feelings. “What do you mean by outside help?”
“She needs the serum,” Iain told him.
“And you want me to do what? Make a dash to a compound to try and…what? Get a vial of it? Where would I go?”
The doctor shook his head. “Forget the dash. She won’t survive that long. No, we’re thinking about a direct transfusion.”
Lucien looked again at his father. “From who?”
“Yulencan’t giveAttyhis blood. You already know that,” Iain explained. “Normal blood is not compatible withMutahphysiology, and vice versa. Butyoumight be able to donate.”
“Me? How? I’m half Normal.”
“And you’re halfMutah. And that half is your mother. You haveAtty’sgenetics in you. That might be the factor that’ll let her body accept your blood. That might save her. Your mother is going to die if we do nothing. And right now, I’m willing to take the risk. It’s our only hope.Heronly hope. We need to dosomething,because if we do nothing, she’lldie anyway.”
“But don’t you need someone who’s already had the virus for this to work? I haven’t had the disease,” Lucien pointed out.
“Maybe you have, but you just never realized it,” Iain said cryptically.
“What do you mean?”
The doctor motioned for him to lie down. “Let me start the transfusion, then I’ll explain.”
Lucienstretched out on his back, propping his arm on the saddle and keeping it high to enable gravity to aid in the transfer. He watched as the doctor wet a cloth with the contents from his special water bag before daubing the inside of his elbow to sterilize it.
“What about you?” he questioned the doctor.
“What about me?”
“You haven’t gotten sick, either.”
Iain flashed him a grin. “Haven’t you heard? I’m like a damn brewery. That virus never had a chance with me.” He bent low overAtty, struggling to see in the dim light in order to insert the thin tube with its metallic tip. “Okay, Luc. Make a fist and squeeze it repeatedly.” He watched to make sure the flow was steady, then patted Lucien on the shoulder. “It looks good.”
“You were going to tell me why I didn’t get sick.”
