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ChapterSixteen
Luca stayed with Dr. Dante until his tears stopped, and that was long after he fell asleep at close to three a.m.
He tucked the covers around Dr. Dante’s shoulders and followed Nox’s presence down the hall to another room. It had the same pale green walls as Dr. Dante’s room, except the bed was king-sized, and the side table had a large ornate lamp with a rose pattern similar to the one on the sheer curtains over the windows.
The hiss of water echoed off tiles, and steam billowed from the partially open bathroom door, shifting from bluish under the florescent lights to the warm gold radiating from the lamp.
Luca stripped off his clothes and went inside.
Nox stood in a clawfoot bathtub behind a wraparound clear curtain. A modern shower head, big enough to bathe an elephant, rained down a jet of water over his head.
“Is there room for one more?”
Nox stepped back and pulled aside the curtain. “Always.”
Luca climbed in. “Not a lot of room in here, is there?” The tub had been made in a time when people rarely reached six feet and it was unheard of to be as tall and wide as Nox.
“No, but that’s okay.” Nox blanketed Luca’s back.
Luca leaned into him. “I’m worried about Dr. Dante.”
“I know. I can feel it.”
“He’s scared.”
“Understandable.” Nox held Luca tighter.
“I don’t know how to help him.”
“There might not be any way to help him.”
True. And the thought squeezed Luca’s heart. “I’m not sure he would let us help him if we could.”
Nox sighed and sadness trickled in from him to Luca.
“You’re not surprised, are you?” Luca said.
“Dr. Dante was always concerned about us in the Utah Facility. He hurt when Koda hurt. Not physically like us, but he didn’t have to. By the time he left, he was so close to breaking, his hands would shake when he tried to write down our daily reports.”
“Why do you think he stayed?” Especially if his guilt began before he even left.
“He never said outright that he wanted to help people. But when he took blood samples from us, ran us through physicals, and examined how our cells regenerated, he’d talk about how figuring out how the ichor worked could change things like transplants, treatment for brain injuries, even cancer.”
“Did he hurt you like Dr. Echols did?”
Nox exhaled against Luca’s cheek. “No.”
“Then how did he study your cells?”
“He asked.”
Luca turned his head. “He asked?”
“Yeah, he’d tell us what he wanted to do and why and we usually agreed.”
“What if you didn’t?”
“In the beginning, he’d send us back to our cells.”
