Phantom Game (GhostWalkers 18)

There’s no binding going on that I can see.

Exactly. She has little to almost no VWF to bind to clotting factor eight, which she desperately needs. She’s bleeding into her joints, her stomach, everywhere, because she can’t form a clot.

Jonas didn’t like the sound of that. Or her tone. Camellia sounded tired already and discouraged. When he looked at Marigold, he found her condition overwhelming, and he didn’t know her. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Camellia when the woman meant something to her.

Baby, look at me. Right now. Look at me. See me, nothing else. Not Mari, only me.

Camellia reluctantly lifted her gaze to his. Her eyes were pure silver beneath those long dark lashes.

One small section at a time. Only one piece. Don’t try to look at her like a whole. You’re letting the fact that you know her get to you. I’m right here with you. You can do this. He poured absolute confidence into his voice because, in spite of the mess that was Marigold’s insides, he believed in Camellia’s abilities.

Her tongue touched her upper lip, and then she gave him a faint smile and nodded. Once more, she turned her attention to Mari’s bone marrow. All right. We’ve got this. Red, we’ve got so much work to do.

Once again, Jonas wanted to ask questions, but he remained silent. Whitney certainly must have given Camellia a healthy dose of the plant. He knew he had to have some of the plant in him as well in order to connect with her on such a molecular level, but it was nothing to the extent of what Camellia had. She was extraordinary at what she was doing.

She concentrated on bone marrow in the spine first. She had that little frown on her face, and she began by immediately targeting a tiny cell that he had barely noticed among all the other cells. It was a putrid green color, and it seemed to be attached to nearly every cell that he could see. He thought it belonged because there were so many of them. Nests of them.

What is that?

I believe Zenith left this behind, and it’s multiplied in her.

He knew she wasn’t paying attention to him. Camellia was wholly consumed by what she was doing. Now that he knew those green cells shouldn’t be there, he studied them. They looked to be an invasive species, so tiny, a leech attaching itself to feed. She took out the nests first, destroying them with electrical pulses she sent from the starships—the neurons with the widespread arms reaching throughout Marigold’s body.

I can help with that. Jonas had seen her wield the neurons before.

He might not be good at too much of the healing, but he’d played video games, and he could shoot electrical charges into the larger targets and take them out. The larger targets were tiny, but not like those single cells, attached to the bumpy ones Mari obviously needed. He wasn’t going to take a chance on destroying those. He’d leave them to Camellia to finesse with her superior skills.

That will save us time.

She didn’t ask him if he thought he really could destroy the cells without harming Marigold. She acted like she was certain he could help her. She didn’t even look to see what he was doing when she began going after the single cells attached to the bumpy-looking cells.

What are those?

This is a lymphocyte, the rounder one that looks as if it has multiple cells inside is a neutrophil, and the third one that’s shaped kind of like a kidney bean is a monocyte. Basically, they’re white blood cells and are necessary to the immune system. They fight bacteria, viruses, fungi, anything invading our systems. This leechy thing is cutting off all aid to Mari’s system before she has a chance to even try to fight it.

Jonas concentrated on destroying the nests of green cells trying to hide among the field of red, white and yellow cells. The nests were so tiny that he had to really search for them. He learned to look with that veil of silver that was so foreign to him. He couldn’t think of anything but sending electrical pulses along the neuron’s long spike and out to the synapse. He could see the jump provided by Red increasing the pulse as it leapt to the next neuron and sizzled down the extended arm jumping from synapse to neuron until he guided his missile straight into the center of the putrid green nest. He had no idea of time going by, his complete concentration on the electrical pulses and the flood of chemicals fighting to save Marigold.

“Her temperature is going to begin to elevate,” Camellia informed the others in her distant voice. “You’ll need to be prepared to get it down. That’s her body trying to fight again.”