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“You thought right,” Tim said. “Thank you.”
“Shall I get him on the line before we leave for the office? By the way, the car is waiting.”
“I’ll call him on my mobile,” Tim said before dismissing her with a polite smile.
When Frida was gone, he picked up his phone and activated a video call. Maya watched him from under her eyelashes. Although he tried to hide it, she felt the strain in the rigid set of his body. He was as tense as she was.
A silver-haired man with a goatee came online. Maya judged him to be in his early fifties. He sat in front of a bookshelf lined with books, wearing a gray sleeveless jersey and a striped shirt.
“Charles,” Tim said. “You have news for us?”
“I ran multiple tests. You’re not going to like the results. I’m glad to see you’re sitting down.”
Tim took Maya’s hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “Let’s hear it.”
“You’ve infected Miss Martin with a virus.”
Tim stiffened. “What kind of virus?”
“The kind that’s addictive.”
The room went in and out of focus. All of a sudden, she became hyper-aware of the smell of wood polish and coffee. A strip of sunlight fell over the table, making the air in the old residence seem dusty. All of this, what she could see and smell, was real, not what the doctor was saying.
“I don’t have a name for the virus,” Charles said, “because I’ve never seen anything like it. You’ve infected her with your bite, and now her body needs it.”
Tim was quiet for a moment, seemingly considering Charles’s words. “How come we’ve never picked up this virus in my body? We’ve run multiple tests before. None of my donors have ever shown these symptoms.”
“You’ve never marked your donors,” Charles said. “You probably need to bite deep to inject it into the donor’s bloodstream. I can’t explain why you have this virus in your system. I can only give you the clinical consequences of having administered it to Miss Martin.”
Tim inhaled deeply. “You said you’ve never encountered it before. Is there a chance another dhampir may have a similar strain? Something likewise in other case studies?”
“It’s the first thing I did, looking for other cases. Sorry.” Charles shook his head.
“It’s impossible.”
“We already know you’re not like other dhampirs, Timothy. Your makeup is different, unique. Maybe this problem is as well.”
“How do we cure this?” Tim asked with a frown.
“So far, there is no cure. The only treatment is your bite.”
Maya felt as if they were discussing someone else. She listened, detached, until the implication of Charles’s verdict slowly sunk in.
“Are you saying, doctor, that Tim and I can’t be separated?” she asked.
“Exactly. Not for long, at least. I need you to keep a chart of when Miss Martin is bitten by you, Timothy, and of how long before she needs another bite. The statistics are important for future cases, as well as for both of you, in order to know how long you can safely be apart.”
“Two days,” Tim said.
“I need hours and minutes,” the doctor replied.
She clutched her cup, her coffee now cold. “What happens if Tim doesn’t bite me? Say for example we’re separated, and he can’t get to me.”
“Miss Martin,” Charles wiped a hand over his face, “I have studied your symptoms and your blood sample carefully. There’s no easy way of saying this, and I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, so I’m going to be frank with you. If you go too long without his bite, you’ll die.”
Maya went cold. She was physically dependent on a man whose life she had to destroy in order to save the world. A man she was always destined to leave, and now leaving him would mean her death. Literally.
Tim had gone very still. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Timothy. Without the virus there’s a high probable chance that her body will go into terminal shock. Of course, it can only be validated if tested, and I don’t mean in theory. Based on the data from the blood test I have in front of me, I’d give it ninety-nine percent. I can only say one hundred percent if you let the virus run its course.”
“If anything happens to me…” Tim said, voicing the unthinkable.
“You better make sure nothing happens to you, or else she’s pretty much buggered.”
Life returned to Maya’s limbs. “Doctor, are you any good?”
“The best in my field, Miss Martin.”
“Can you find a cure?”
“I’m not going to give you false hope. It doesn’t look good right now, but I’m working on it.”
“Let us know if anything new comes up,” Tim said, “and thank you.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, and I’m sorry we had to meet under such circumstances, Miss Martin.”
The screen went blank.
So did her mind.
Leaving her cup on the table, she got up and walked to the window. The garden lay pristine outside. Lee and Cesar were practicing boyish wrestling moves on the lawn, probably killing time while they waited for Tim.
