The Isis Collar

He was done and putting petri dishes in a padded case with dry ice frothing mist into the air before I managed to gather my senses enough to talk. But as my stomach settled, I started to be able to think clearly. With that came worry that I didn’t want to show. But Bruno knew better; I could see it in his eyes through the faceplate of his hood. He looked at me steadily. “So what’s the verdict? Any ideas?” I was surprised at how normal my voice sounded.



The doctor released several latches and lifted his hood over his head. The almost casual gesture made me feel a lot better. Now that I could see him clearly, I could tell that he really did look like an older version of Chris, heavily muscled and dark haired, with twinkling eyes bordered by laugh lines. His hazel eyes showed intelligence and strength of purpose, but also a healthy dose of humor. “Not only an idea, but a diagnosis and a cure.”



Wow. “Um … that’s great. So what’s wrong with me? It’s not serious, right?”



Apparently that caught him by surprise, because he sputtered and started coughing. His mouth worked for a few seconds without sound. “No, Ms. Graves. Pardon the expression, but hell no. Just because I know what it is and there’s a cure doesn’t mean you’re not still in danger. If you were an ordinary human, we’d be discussing amputation right now. You have a serious illness and the only reason you’re not dead is because you already are … at least partly. Your body has amazing healing properties. Even as damaged as the tissue was, it was trying to heal as I was shaving skin with the scalpel.”



Bruno had also removed his hood and was watching my leg with worry. “So is it what I thought? M. Necrose?”



Dr. Gaetano reached into his bag and pulled out a fat syringe filled with a clear, almost greenish fluid. “On the money. I didn’t believe it when you first called. It’s so rare that there have only been a dozen reported cases in his country since buffalo roamed. But the symptoms you described were so accurate that I took the precaution of stopping by the pharmaceutical research lab they have here on campus to see if they had a few doses of the specific antibiotic in cold storage for teaching purposes. You’re very lucky they did. If we’re going to be dealing with other cases of M. necrose we may have a very serious problem.”



It was hard to see my leg from my position, but I managed to shift around enough to get a look at what appeared to be a large bruise on my calf. It was spreading, visibly growing as I watched. The pain was growing as well.



Crap.



Gaetano was talking to Bruno, holding the tantalizing cure just out of reach. “You should really consider getting your M.D., Mage DeLuca. A lot of people wouldn’t have thought of something so obscure as a possible cause. We could use someone with your skills at the center.”



Bruno let out a nervous chuckle. “Please, call me Bruno. I had a hard enough time with my magic studies without adding medical training.”



“Um, not to interrupt or anything, but is there any chance we could get that drug into me? It’s getting worse. Really fast.” The bruise that had been the diameter of a baseball moments earlier was now halfway around my leg.



Dr. Gaetano turned and his eyes got wide. “It’s accelerating. That’s not right. This is normally a very slow-moving illness.”



“Could you maybe enlighten me while you’re giving me the injection? It feels like someone is stabbing me with knives all the way up to my thigh.”



He tapped the side of the syringe and took off the protective cover over the needle. “Mycobacterium necrose is similar to the bacteria that causes leprosy, also called Hansen’s disease. Instead of coating the cells in your body with a waxy cover, it coats them with magic that interrupts the nervous system and stops the flow of blood to your tissue.” Like a nurse, Bruno ripped open a foil square and removed a pad that smelled strongly of alcohol. Dr. Gaetano used it to clean a spot on my arm, then dropped the used pad into the waste can next to the table, where the alcohol continued to assault my sensitive nose. Thankfully, the vampire inside me was snoozing, so the smell didn’t make me nauseous. I was me for the moment and worried sick because the pain was getting worse with each second. I winced and that made Bruno frown, because I hardly ever react when something hurts.



“Which is how it kills the skin?”



Thomas Gaetano shook his head and lowered the needle. “It kills more than skin. It kills all tissue, including bone and marrow. The unique thing about M. Necrose, though, is what happens afterward.”



“Afterward?” That made me furrow my brows, because what could possibly happen after the body was dead?



He nodded. “What’s unique about this contagion is that in a significant percentage of cases, even with the tissue dead, the body continues to function. Legs walk, arms move. The eyes, ears, and brain function—but the person is gone. The body has a new function—seeking to reproduce the bacteria. And, like all bacteria, it knows its own transmission vector. The best way to infect a new host is to introduce saliva into wounds. Usually, the victim becomes aggressive, biting and scratching. The teeth are always the last to die.”



“So, zombies.”



“Yes, and no.” His eyes locked with mine, his expression grim. “Zombies can be controlled by someone with enough necromantic abilities. Nothing controls a bacteria colony, and the only way to destroy them permanently is with fire.”



I swallowed bile. I’d seen what uncontrolled zombies do to anything capable of movement. I’d had the memories magically blunted to keep me sane, but they were still there. And the flashback on the table had brought them so much closer to the surface. Ivy had been a necromancer.



Gaetano opened another alcohol pad, this time rubbing it against my purple calf. “It’s moving too fast. We need to strike closer to the source.” His eyes flicked sideways to meet mine. “This is going to hurt. It’s thick and doesn’t go through a small-gauge needle well. Try to stay calm.”



The bruise was spreading over my knee. Calm wasn’t really an option, but I could stay still while he worked. I nodded with grim determination. “It would help to hear more about this disease. That will take my mind off the pain.”



At first, he ignored the question. He looked up at Bruno. “I need to have these antibodies split faster than normal. Can you do that without a casting circle and while it’s still in the syringe?”



Bruno frowned, which made me think that what the doctor was asking for was unconventional at best. Then Bruno looked down at me, asking with a glance for permission. Some things don’t really require words when there’s trust. I nodded. “Go ahead. Do what you think is right. What’s happening to me isn’t normal.”



One look at my leg, where the bruise was creeping toward my sock, and Bruno let out a slow breath. He raised one hand and it started to glow amber. By the time he’d covered the doctor’s hand—and the syringe—with his own, the magic had coalesced to a brilliant iridescent rainbow. The northern lights on a tiny scale. “Haste.” He whispered the word, a bare movement of lips and air, but the effect was startling.



The liquid in the syringe started to froth, like it was boiling. Dr. Gaetano held up his hand. “That’s enough. Too much more and the syringe will explode.” Without another word, he slid the needle into the purple skin and slowly injected the drug. Maybe the drug had actually been boiling, because that’s sure what it felt like going in. The searing heat made me gasp for breath and Bruno grabbed my hand. I think I returned his squeeze too hard, because he tensed and his face changed. But he bore the pain and I appreciated it. I did try to ease my grasp, but it was hard to do so because the doctor had moved the needle to a new spot and stuck me again.



He injected the drug in four places in my calf and a final time into my arm. Finally, he spoke again. “We call it Living Dead because that’s what the victims become. It’s what all the cheesy zombie horror movies are based on, but it’s very real. And much more horrifying. Thankfully, there’s a cure and the disease has always been slow to develop and easy to spot by trained mage healers and witch doctors. The only time it gets out of control is in remote villages in third-world countries where the nearest witch doctor is miles away.”



The stinging and searing was washing over me. “Okay. So I’m injected. Now what?” My voice was breathy and my heart was beating so fast I felt it might launch right out of my chest.



Dr. Gaetano was watching my leg with the same fierce intensity I’d seen before, on his son’s face. “Now, we wait.”



14



Dr. Gaetano was busy typing into a tiny netbook, pausing every few moments to look into a portable microscope. Rizzoli was in the corner, issuing orders by telephone until the results of his tests came back. He’d been exposed. No, I hadn’t bitten him, but the doc wasn’t taking any chances.



Gaetano kept speaking while he typed. “The primary transmission vector of M. necrose, according to field reports from other countries, is saliva introduction to the bloodstream. I haven’t found any sign this strain is any different, which is why I removed the suit.”



“But don’t we need to check out the school, or find anyone I’ve interacted with from there? I mean, I haven’t bitten anyone … that I know of. But those kids—” I didn’t mention there have been times I haven’t remembered things. I didn’t want to think about that.



It was obvious he’d been called from home, from the jeans and polo shirt revealed from beneath the white Tyvek suit. “You’re right, we do need to track down the source, plus anyone Celia might have infected. Exposure was probably two to six months ago, but I don’t think the vampire bite is the cause. I need a list of your sexual encounters in the last six months—specifically anyone who had open sores or unexplained bruises.”



The statement, uttered so matter-of-factly, was so unexpected that I let out a surprised squeak and then coughed. “Um … there aren’t any.”



He raised his eyebrows while lowering his chin, like he didn’t believe me. “Ms. Graves, please. We’re all adults here and this is extremely important. We need to find anyone else who might be infected.”