Chaos and Moonlight (Order of the Nines Book 1) (4 page)

Taris held his arm over Hayley’s blood pool. His own blood was rapidly falling in thick red rivulets, and as it did, he felt his twisting insides begin to unfurl, to relax and give him new purpose. A remarkable calm came over him. He wanted to clean his arm and stem the bleeding so he could lie down in his bed and let it scar over, but something in him made him stay where he was. He wanted one more moment with her memory. He eased down onto his side next to the puddle, laying his open arm directly into it. The dark red stained his hands, and he couldn’t tell if the warmth that enveloped his skin was from his own heated blood or from what remained of Hayley’s.

The low tingle in his chest told him sleep was coming. He had drained himself to the point of exhaustion, and now his body needed to repair itself. It was a feeling he knew well, and he welcomed it. If he slept, he would stop thinking about the possible extinction of his race. He would stop thinking about his sister, who was tormented with the same guilt that he was. He would stop thinking about Hayley.

Sleep was taking over, and he closed his eyes, but not before whispering into the puddle that was drawing closer to his lips.

“I will save you.”

If she made it through this, Nick would be dead. Dead, dead, oh so freaking dead.

Sarah had never been so nervous in her entire life. Her palms were sweaty. Her mouth was dry. Her entire nervous system was teetering on the edge of complete and total shutdown.

“Two minutes, Dr. Bridgeman. They need you on the set now.” The guy with the headset peeked at her from behind the curtain. He held back the velvet, tapping his foot in irritation.

How in the name of all that was holy did she get suckered into this? She wasn’t good with crowds or speeches. Hell, she could barely tolerate people, but because of the unwavering insistence of hospital administration and the wonderful PR department, she was forced to change into something other than scrubs, put on her happy face, and make an appearance on a talk show. Sure, her discovery was a big deal, and it could possibly mean amazing things for millions of people, but there was no way she was going to be able to pull this off. The very idea of sitting underneath all of those lights on early evening television was more terrifying than her first gross anatomy midterm had been.

Her research partner owed her for this. Big time.

Get a grip, Sarah. Get a grip. Get a grip
. Mumbling and keeping her brain focused with quick steps toward her spot on stage were the only ways she was going to remain conscious, because the tumble was coming. Her best bet was to get planted in that seat, and fast. Otherwise, she’d be passed out on the floor, and there would be no “Important Medical Breakthrough” segment at all.

The producer abruptly stopped, closing the gap his rapidly paced, albeit short-legged, stride had put between them. He whipped around to face her, the cord from his headset smacking his designer turtleneck sweater. His beady brown eyes were trying to stare through her, and the look on his face was one that could only be interpreted as complete and total disgust.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” His effeminate, irritated voice came through his nose, literally.

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“Hm.” The producer crooked his forefinger and motioned for her to follow before he began walking toward the set.

“Where’s Dr. Bridgeman?”

The loud female voice came from directly behind her, and a shoulder slammed into hers as a woman with an entourage the size of a Midwestern state’s total population rushed toward the desk. “I want to see that woman right now. I need to tell her how this interview is going to go…”

She kept barking out orders as she took her place behind the desk on set. The moment her ass hit the chair, she was surrounded by women armed with curling irons who set about perfecting her blonde locks. As she spoke, more women powdered her face and reapplied her mascara. The collar of her designer silk blouse was taped into place.

Sarah stood where she was, holding her now throbbing shoulder, staring at the wonder that was Maven Jenson. As she gawked at the perfect bottle-blonde who sat behind the desk being primped by a small country, she felt the heat of fear sweep through her body once again.

She didn’t want to do this. Nothing about this felt right. It was too soon after the breakthrough to go public, and she knew it. She felt it in her gut.

“You. Over there.” Sarah looked up and saw Maven’s crystal blue eyes piercing right through her. “Who are you, and why are you standing around like an idiot? If you aren’t here with Dr. Bridgeman, then get off my set!”

Sarah’s eyes popped open. This woman had obviously not done her homework or she would have known better than to spout off like that. Or would she? Somehow, Sarah doubted that Maven Jenson, investigative reporter and national celebrity, would care if she were talking to the queen of the universe. Sarah sat back and watched the snarky stage producer confirm her conclusion when he leaned down to whisper in Maven’s ear.

“I don’t care if she’s the ruler of damned China. Tell her to get her ass over here and ready. Cameras roll in under a minute, and I won’t have some idiot ruining my show.”

Sarah may have been many things, but an idiot was most assuredly not one of them. Taller and thinner than she’d like, sure. Maybe a little more socially awkward than she cared for. But an idiot? Idiots didn’t graduate with honors from Columbia, UNC-Chapel Hill and do residencies at Johns Hopkins, nor did they make incredible medical breakthroughs that could save the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. She took in a few more deep, cleansing breaths to steady her nerves and try to control her blood pressure. With a smile more fake than most of the breasts in Los Angeles, she sat down on the couch next to the desk.

Maven began waving away the powder cronies. Once they had all scurried off, Maven looked Sarah up and down, eyeing her like prey.

“I thought you were supposed to be a man. I was told a man was coming.” Aha! Suddenly, everything about the treatment she’d received since making her across-town trip to the studio made perfect sense. Her research partner, Nick, was originally supposed to play the media darling for the hospital system’s major breakthrough. Unfortunately, Nick was in no state to make the rounds because he was dealing with a bad reaction from new medication. Poor guy. He was living proof that good looks and success didn’t prevent people from contracting life-threatening diseases. Of course, she wasn’t about to tell Maven that.

“I believe,” Sarah began as she cleared her throat, “that you are referring to Dr. Patton. He is my research partner. There was a scheduling conflict. I’m so sorry he couldn’t make it.”

“Yeah,” Maven huffed and waved her hand. “Me, too. So here’s the deal: you just answer everything I ask you, okay? And keep your answers simple. I know you’re here for some big medical deal, but try not to take up too much of my time, okay? Nobody is watching for you, honey. And we’re live, so try not to say anything stupid.”

“Thirty seconds, Maven.”

Sarah took in a long, sobering breath as she watched the woman fix her lipstick and fluff her hair. She practiced a smile that spread across her face so wide, the Joker would have been proud. An instant flash of blinding light came on, and a series of
beeps
sounded around them.

This is it. You can do this
.

Maven started her intro, seamlessly spouting out everything that was on the teleprompter in front of them. Sarah read along with her, trying not to lose focus. When the print at the bottom of the black screen read “Cut to Guest,” she sat up straight in her chair and looked at Maven.

“Dr. Bridgeman, thank you for joining me this evening.”

Sarah cleared her throat. “Thank you very much for having me.”

“Now, Dr. Bridgeman,” Maven looked down at the blue cards on her desk, “you are the lead researcher on what has been called the Chimera Project. Can you tell us more about that?”

“Sure.” Sarah leaned forward to take a long sip of the novelty-mug water. “The Chimera Project started in an effort to find replacement therapies for organ transplant patients.”

“Fascinating.” Maven flipped to another card. “Now, you and your research partner have been working on this project for how long exactly?”

“We have been working on it for a little over three years now.”

“I see.” Another card was flipped. “And how long have you been out of medical school?”

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. What kind of a question was that? How did that have anything to do with the amazing discovery they made?

“I graduated from medical school going on eight years ago now.” She didn’t mean for it to happen, but the tone in which she answered screamed something more along the lines of
how is that relevant?

Maven’s eyes shot up. They were narrowed, and if Sarah hadn’t known better, she would have thought she was about to blast her with fatal laser vision. Without taking her eyes from Sarah, Maven flipped another card. She didn’t even look down at it.

“So, Dr. Bridgeman,” she said through the gritting smile she had plastered onto her Botoxed face, “would you care to tell our live audience about your amazing breakthrough?”

“Certainly.” Sarah forced a smile. “The Chimera Project was originally started with the intention of discovering the reasons behind human chimerism. That’s when a fetus in utero absorbs its twin. It causes one person to have two different sets of DNA. In the research process, we stumbled onto the fact that these medical phenomena can have mixed immune systems as well as mixed DNA. My partner…”

“Dr. Nicholas Patton?” Maven interrupted her.

“Yes, Dr. Patton. May I continue?” Sarah leaned forward and took another sip from her mug, hoping no one saw the grimaced look on her face. Maven was beginning to grate on her last shred of nerves. “My partner and I were discussing the subject one day, and I remembered an article in a medical journal that discussed how mixed chimerism might be used to eliminate the risk of rejection in organ transplants and the need to take antirejection medications. Our research shifted, and after working on this for several months, we discovered that if you induce a mixed immune system in transplant patients before the transplant, there is a 99 percent chance that the host body will accept the donor organ with zero rejection.”

“Uh huh.” Maven sat back, the smug look still on her face. In her mind, no doubt, Sarah just went from being a plain, boring, barely pretty nothing to the smartest woman on earth, and the hatred glowed on her face like a neon sign. “So how do you induce this ‘mixed immune system’?” Maven lifted two fingers on both hands and crooked them in the air. Sarah could feel her blood beginning to boil.

“The ‘mixed immune system,’” Sarah said, mimicking Maven’s gesture, “is induced by basically turning off the white blood cells that contribute to the rejection process. The serum is an organic compound that stops these cells from immediately going to work. In addition to turning off these cells, it introduces a completely different groups of immune system cells that help the organ feel at home, if you will. By the time the original cells kick in, the body has accepted the organ as its own. FDA approval is in the works as we speak. This is a wonderful achievement for the medical community and transplant patients.”

“So do you hope to profit from this discovery? This will no doubt make you a very rich woman at the ripe old age of,” Maven looked down at her blue card, “thirty-three.”

Sarah had officially had it. She was tired of Maven’s insinuations and putdowns. Most of all, she was tired of her I’m-better-than-you attitude. Questioning her motives and her integrity? That was the last damned straw.

“Who do you think you are, asking me questions like that? Do you think just because I’m young, I must be some airhead who got through medical school by being a kneepad princess? Do you really think I devoted that much of my life to finding something that could save thousands of lives only for the money?”

Sarah got up and pulled the mic pack from the back of her waistband and jerked it off her jacket lapel. Maven was furiously motioning for the camera to cut, and it wasn’t until that moment Sarah remembered they were on a live show. As terrified as she should have been by the idea that there were countless people watching her, it only bolstered her bravado.

“I’ll tell you something else, Maven Jenson. You are a stuck-up bitch.” Sarah pointed at the curtain she knew the producer was sitting behind. “You and that jackass producer over there have been royal jerks to me ever since I walked in here, simply because both of you are dick hungry.”

Sarah slammed the lapel mic down onto Maven’s desk. She could see Maven’s pulse racing in her throat, and the sight of her pale-with-shock face made Sarah smile from ear to ear. She turned on her heel and walked off the set, grabbing her purse and car keys from the stagehand who stood just outside the camera’s view.

“You are my hero,” the skinny stage girl whispered as she happily handed them over. Sarah smiled back at her and flung open the emergency exit door.

When she was safely in her car, she let out a loud laugh. Her hands were shaking and her stomach was in knots, and in an odd twist of irony, she felt like a brand new woman. Work the next day was going to be hell. Her iPhone was already buzzing out of control. She would worry about it tomorrow. For now, she felt on top of the world, and nothing was going to bring her back down.

Even Mother Nature was in mourning.

The early evening sky was black and heavy with clouds that had yet to let go of the autumn rain. The wind was bitter cold, and as it swept through the mountains it carried with it a hint of ice and snow. Even the trees were rustling in a low, sorrowful growl. October weather in the mountains of North Carolina was normally cool and gray, but this was different.

It was as if the cosmos knew exactly how they felt.

The few exhaustive hours of sleep Taris had gotten were wearing thin, and both the emotional and physical fatigue of the day were beginning to get to him as he watched the flames lick the edges of the marble tomb. On the other side, he could see the fire flickering in Kalin’s eyes. She stared at it intently without blinking. The dry heat from the fire caused her already bloodshot eyes to go even redder in the corners. Kalin had not rested since Hayley’s death.