Hydromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 4)

The run home nearly killed her. She hardly had enough strength left to climb up to the first floor balcony and slide over the balustrade. The cool breeze did nothing to soothe her burning body. She left her phone on the bed, stripped naked, and took another cold shower, allowing the water to soothe her. By the time she slipped into Tim’s bed, she was shivering. Not being able to stand the feel of the sheets on her over-sensitive skin, she pulled on soft, cotton lounge pants and one of Tim’s T-shirts. Then she got back into bed and prayed that she’d wake up feeling better.

The following morning did not bring the relief Maya had hoped for. If anything, her symptoms were worse. She looked in the bathroom mirror and pulled a hand over her face. She looked like shit.

Cesar whistled when she came downstairs. “You sure you’re okay?”

She plastered a bright smile on her face. “Yeah.”

“Cancel the dives,” he said.

She couldn’t. She needed to listen to Tim’s conversations. If she cancelled the dives, she had no excuse for going to the center, and she didn’t have the energy to repeat last night’s slip-out stunt.

“It’s just a cold,” she said. “My nose isn’t blocked. I can still dive.”

“You need to rest.”

Maya ignored him. “How was your date with Felicity?”

A huge grin broke out over his face.

Maya chuckled. “Ah, it was like that, was it?”

“I didn’t sleep with her, if that’s what you think.”

“Why not? You’re clearly hot for each other.”

“I want to take it slow,” he said.

“You’re serious about her.”

“Yeah. She’s a great girl.”

“Good.” Maya grabbed a banana from the bowl on the kitchen table and headed for the door. “I’m happy for you.” She hoped it would keep his attention focused on something other than his job.

She battled to get through the day. At the end of her second dive, she was ready to collapse. She listened to the spy mike recordings, but except for government business, nothing unusual came up.

During the walk home, she was thankful Cesar did all the talking. When they reached the house, she collapsed on the veranda sofa. She wanted to crawl into bed, but she didn’t have the energy to climb the stairs.

“Maya.” Cesar propped his hands on his hips. “You don’t look good.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“Don’t joke. I’m serious.”

“I told you, it’s a cold. It’ll be over by tomorrow.”

“I’m getting you a drink,” he said, disappearing into the house.

What she needed was to hear Tim’s voice. He hadn’t called since he’d left on Sunday, though why it should bother her was as big a mystery as her being unwell. He was an ambassador with a hectic schedule, after all, and very busy with illegal arms deals. The man had his hands full.

Cesar came back with a glass that he handed her. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” She sniffed the amber liquor.

“A hot toddy.”

“Brandy?”

“Don’t worry. I know alcohol worsens your symptoms when you start needing Tim’s blood. I boiled it. The alcohol has evaporated.”

“You’re babying me again.”

“Yeah, well, you know Tim will have my head on a spike if I don’t.”

She downed the drink and grimaced. He took back the glass. When he went inside, she made herself comfortable on the sofa. A few minutes later, she was nauseous. Not wanting to alarm Cesar, she dragged herself to her feet and down the hallway. The sound of clanking cutlery came from the kitchen.

“Goodnight,” she called from the stairs.

Cesar looked around the frame. “I’m making a sandwich. Want one?”

“No. I’m beat.”

He frowned, but said, “Okay.”

Maya pulled on Tim’s T-shirt and her cotton pants and went to bed. For once, sleep came easy, and as she dozed off, she was certain she was going to wake up feeling fine.

The pain that woke Maya was no longer jabs that came and went with intervals, but persistent. She sat up in the bed and clutched her stomach. The time on her mobile phone showed two in the morning. She was wet with perspiration. Stumbling from the bed, she opened the sliding doors for fresh air, but despite the ocean breeze on her damp skin, she was still burning up. The mark throbbed in her neck. It hurt like smoldering coals. Bent double, she moved to the bathroom and flicked on the light. She opened the tap and splashed water on her face, searching for the relief the molecules would bring, but this time it didn’t come.

When she looked up, the face looking back at her from the mirror made her freeze. She was as white as a ghost. Dark circles lined her eyes. She tilted her head and uttered a gasp. The tiny dots on her neck were swollen and red, the area around them puffy. A red line ran down from the mark and disappeared under her T-shirt. She pushed a finger to the raised skin and flinched with pain. Her hands were shaking so much she had to grip the basin to keep steady. Something was horribly wrong.