Chapter Twelve – George

He felt the loss of her, and opened his eyes, reaching for her. She wasn’t there.

George sat up, his senses roaming the room. Maybe she had gone to the bathroom, but the door stood slightly ajar, and there was no hint of movement.

His heart thumped in his chest as he swung his legs off the side of the bed, grabbed a pair of sweatpants, and pulled them on as he headed out of the door. Moving silently to the top of the stairs, he stood and listened: was she downstairs? Maybe she couldn't sleep and needed some tea.

“Shh, it’s OK, sweetheart.”

His head snapped around. He had overreacted, she was in Charlie’s bedroom. His blood chilled, had she got what she wanted, sex with a dragon? Did she hope to conceive his child in one coupling just as she had before, and was preparing to leave?

“I’ll get you some water.”

He heard the creak of the bed as she got up, and moved to intercept her. As she left Charlie’s room, her face was pale. “He’s got a fever.” Poppy’s big blue eyes looked up at him.

“What can I do?” George asked quickly.

“He needs medicine to calm the fever.”

“I’ll see what’s in the medicine cabinet,” George said, although he hardly ever got sick, so the supplies were going to be scant.

“I need medicine for a child,” she said gently, then dragged her hand through her tangled hair. “We had a first-aid kit with everything we needed in an emergency back at the cabin.”

“But it’s all still there,” George said gently.

Poppy brushed a tear away, and then her finger went to the ring on her finger, which she twisted back and forth. “I don’t have anything.”

Poppy didn’t just mean medicine. “I’ll fly to this cabin of yours when Charlie is better and get everything you need.”

She looked up at him, her eyes widening, then her breath quickening. “You mean as a dragon?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Thank you, but right now... can I borrow some money? I can run out to the drugstore if you watch Charlie.”

“No.” He brushed her hair back from her face, and felt her skin, she felt hot too. Maybe it was from her worry. “I’ll go.”

“Thank you,” she said, and placed her head on his chest. “He’s never been this sick before.”

George stepped back from her, and ran down the stairs two at a time, calling, “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

***

It took longer. He had never had to do a run to a drugstore in the middle of the night before. The two stores he knew of were closed, and so he’d had to drive further, relying on Google to guide him there.

As he waited for the gates of the mansion to open, he cursed their slowness, but didn’t forget to check his rearview mirror as he drove inside. His head of security was going to come over tomorrow and make some adjustments to the security system. George was going to ask Poppy to meet with him, but not if Charlie was ill.

He parked the car, and let himself in, walking quickly along the hallway, up the stairs and then into Charlie's room, where Poppy was sitting on her side of the bed, holding his hand. Charlie had a cold towel pressed to his forehead, and his face was flushed red.

“Here.” He passed her the medicine and watched anxiously as she read the instructions.

“Thanks, this should work.” Poppy opened the bottle and measured out the correct dose. “Here, Charlie bear, open wide.”

“Does it taste bad?” he asked.

“No, it’s strawberry flavor,” she reassured him. “And it will make you feel better.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, honey. It will, I promise.”

Charlie opened his mouth and took the medicine, pulling a face, and saying, “It’s all sugary.”

“It is, it’s as sweet as my Charlie bear,” Poppy said.

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too,” Poppy said, taking the towel off his forehead and replacing it with a kiss. “I’ll go wet this for you.”

“I’ll do it,” George said, taking it from her.

“Thanks.” Poppy smiled, but looked scared.

George went to the bathroom and wet the towel, wringing it out before taking it back to Charlie. He handed it to Poppy, and as she turned to him, he put his hand to her forehead. “You are burning up too.”

Poppy put the cold towel on Charlie’s forehead and then put her hands on her cheeks. “I’ll be OK, it’s just the worry.”

“Poppy. I’m going to get you some water, and I want you to take some medicine too.” He knelt down by her side. “And then you need to get some rest. You will be no good to Charlie if you exhaust yourself.”

She nodded, and he went downstairs to fetch some ice-cold water and medicine. By the time he came back upstairs, she looked worse.

“Lie down next to Charlie,” he ordered.

Poppy obediently got up, and moved around to the other side of the double bed, and climbed in wearily. He lifted the covers and she slid under them, but George did not pull them right up to her chin. Handing her the water, he watched while she sipped it and then swallowed the pills he offered her.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

“Your throat sore?” he asked.

“A little. But mainly dry,” she said, sipping all of the water before handing the glass back to him. “We must have picked up some kind of virus.”

“Do you need me to call the doctor?” he asked worriedly.

Poppy shook her head. “Fluids and controlling our temperatures should be enough.” She reached out and took his hand, a tear running down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied.

“Not about that,” she said so quietly he had to lean forward to hear her voice. “I mean about everything.”

“It’s OK, that is in the past.”

“No, it’s not. It never will be. Not until the Heartsfire Blade is back here.”

“I’ll deal with that,” he said. “And anyway, the most important thing is that you are here.”

“But the Heartsfire Blade...”

“It doesn't matter, Poppy.”

“I can tell you who I stole it for.”

“Not now,” he frowned. “When you are stronger.”

“But it’s close.”

“I know,” he said.

“You do?” she frowned.

“Yes. I know about your brother,” he ventured.

“Brax.” She shook her head wearily. “I was such a fool.”

“It’s what you do for family,” George said, his understanding of why Poppy had acted the way she did deeper than she could ever know.

“I’ll get it back to you,” Poppy said. “I promise.”

“I’ll handle it,” George said firmly.

“No, it’s my mess,” Poppy said, as she slipped away from him into a world of sleep.

“No, not anymore. I’m going to destroy them, Poppy. I’m going to make sure they never come after you or Charlie again.”

He had all the information he needed in his briefcase; all he had to do was form a plan. Then he would act. He would get his hands on Braxton Madison and make him tell George where the blade was, and who he was working for. And then he would make him pay!