Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

She felt her heart plummet to her toes. She rose jerkily to her feet and ran toward her husband.

Saint had almost reached the man when there was another loud explosion. Gashes of fire rent the sky, and debris hurled outward. My God, Saint thought blankly, it’s hell and I’ve arrived! He felt his body hurled into the air from the force of the explosion and thrown backward. Then he felt no more.

Jules knelt beside her husband, her hand pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady. She swallowed, swearing at herself that she wouldn’t succumb to the awful tears and sobs she felt building inside her. No, she thought, I won’t be a fool, not now. She eased down beside him and held his head in her lap. In the next moment Dr. Pickett was on his knees beside Saint.

“His heartbeat is steady,” Jules said, blinking away the rain so she could see him clearly.

Dr. Pickett looked at her briefly. “You’re Mrs. Morris?”

“Yes.”

“You’re doing just fine, ma’am. You just stay as you are and let me examine him . . . Nothing appears to be broken,” he said after some minutes had passed.

“He’s very pale,” Jules said, watching the rain wash away the black streaks from his face.

“No wonder. He probably struck his head. You won’t faint on me, will you, ma’am?”

“Of course not,” Jules said, her voice suddenly stronger and more forceful.

“Stay with him, ma’am. I’ll be back shortly.”

Saint moaned.

“Hush, love,” Jules said. “It’s all right now.”

He opened his eyes, felt a deep, searing pain, and closed them.

“Jules?”

?

??Yes. Do you hurt anywhere, Michael?” She leaned over him, protecting his face from the driving rain.

“Jules,” he said very calmly, “cup the rain in your hands and wash out my eyes. Quickly.”

She froze, but just for an instant. She lifted her hands, cupping them as he’d said, and soon they were filled with water. Very gently she splashed the rain into his open eyes. He winced, and she saw him biting his lower lip.

“Michael—”

“Again, Jules. Keep doing it.”

She continued, becoming more adept each time. Finally he said, “That’s fine, Jules. Now, there’s a clean handkerchief in my pocket. Fold it and tie it around my head over my eyes.”

“Saint, you’re back to the world again, dear boy?”

“Samuel?”

“Yes, what’s this, ma’am?” He wondered briefly if the young woman had finally cracked as he watched her tie the handkerchief around Saint’s head. She smoothed it firmly over his eyes, then sat back on her heels.

“Thank you, Jules,” Saint said. “You did fine, just fine.”

Suddenly Samuel Pickett closed his own eyes, feeling sickness rise in his stomach.

“Michael,” Jules whispered.

“Help me up,” Saint said. “Now, Jules, I know you’re looking at me as if I’m on the brink of dying. But I’m not, I’m all right. Come.”

Both Jules and Dr. Pickett helped him to his feet. He swayed a moment, then stood firmly.