“You think Joshua might try to kill him?” The diviner sounded appalled.
“Honestly, Father, I don’t know what to think. Joshua has certainly failed to bring other significant facts to your attention.” He trailed off with a helpless shrug.
Metcalf frowned and tapped his index finger on his desk. “Very well. You will be solely responsible for the prisoner. Joshua will not be informed of this man’s presence among us.”
“Thank you, sir,” Daniel replied humbly. He cast a glance at Erik who seemed to be studying him with newfound respect.
“I think the visitors’ wing would be the best place to keep him,” the scion suggested. “I’ll put him in the room next to Hannah where he’ll be away from prying eyes.”
“Whoa, hold on a minute there, Brother Dan’l,” Hunt objected. “You ain’t thinkin’ things through. This is the same feller who tried to carry off Miss Hannah, and now you want to give him the room next door. Son, that’s like buildin’ a lean-to on a hen house and rentin’ it to a fox.”
“Mr. Hunt, really.” The scion eyed the cowboy dismissively. “Look at this man. In his current condition, he can barely walk much less stage an abduction. It will take him months to recover from his injuries. By the time he’s fit again, we’ll have retrieved the Sage Stone, and the point of escaping will be moot. He knows as well as we do that his best option is to remain with us until the hostage transfer is complete.”
Erik nodded solemnly. “Scout’s honor, I won’t give you any trouble.”
“There, you see,” Daniel said flatly.
“I believe that concludes our business,” Metcalf announced. “Mr. Hunt, you will escort Daniel and our guest to his new quarters.”
The thief did his best to stifle a grin as the scion helped him rise unsteadily from his chair. The cowboy grumbled under his breath but moved forward to assist Daniel with the prisoner.
“You may now send in Doctor Aboud,” the diviner called after them. “We still have a matter to discuss.”
***
Aboud had apparently been hovering right outside because no sooner had the other three departed than he bustled into the office and took a seat.
“What are you going to do with my test subject?” he demanded abruptly.
“His future is not your concern,” the diviner snapped back.
“Will you at least tell me if he’s going to remain alive?”
Metcalf’s eyebrows shot up. “Have you grown fond of your patient, doctor?”
“Certainly not, sir!” Aboud registered offense at the remark. “There’s nothing special about him. It’s what he represents. That man’s survival is the crowning achievement of my career. The fact that he breathes at all is a testimony to my skill. I would hate to see my trophy destroyed before I’ve had sufficient time to savor such a victory in the name of science.”
Metcalf gave a thin smile. “Then be assured, doctor. Your patient will live. He’s far more useful to me that way.”
Aboud relaxed.
“Now tell me about the vaccine.” Metcalf sat forward in anticipation.
“It’s everything I hoped to achieve and more,” the doctor enthused. “Not only will it subdue the original virus I created but several other strains as well. After inoculating our test subject, I tried exposing him to numerous variations of the plague, and he exhibited immunity to them all.”
“That is excellent news.” The diviner allowed himself a smile of genuine pleasure.
“I’m ready to move forward with the design of a delivery device,” Aboud added.
Metcalf’s smile faded. “Not quite yet, doctor. First, I want you to concentrate on manufacturing a quantity of the vaccine for certain key people in my organization. Initially, I’ll want enough for 150 adult male subjects.”
“Why so much?” Aboud sounded surprised.
“I’m planning a large undertaking. You will, of course, be required to supply enough for all the Nephilim brotherhood eventually.”
“We’ll have to work round-the-clock,” the doctor objected.
“Put on as much additional staff as you need. Just get the vaccine done quickly.”
Aboud seemed on the point of asking several more questions but thought better of it. “Just as you say, sir.”
Metcalf yawned wearily. “And now, if you don’t mind, I need to retire for a while. It’s been a very long day, and I must take my medicine.” The old man rose, steadying himself by holding the rim of his desk. He took a few tentative steps toward the door.
Aboud appeared to notice his benefactor’s haggard appearance for the first time. Alarmed, he stood up to help him. “Sir, you don’t appear well of late. Perhaps there’s something I can do. If you’d allow me to draw a sample of your blood.”
“No, no.” Metcalf waved him away. “I have an excellent medicine that helps me to sleep. Or at least it did until recently. Perhaps I need to double the dosage again. I’ll be fine.”
The doctor took him by the elbow and guided him to the door anyway. “Mr. Metcalf, you need to keep up your strength.”
“I’m doing well enough, doctor.” He extricated himself from Aboud’s grasp. “The tide appears to be turning in my favor at last.”
Chapter 17—Who Ya Gonna Call?
It was a long walk to the guest quarters at the rear of the compound. Daniel and Leroy made slow progress given Erik’s limited mobility. Members of the community eyed them curiously as they passed down one corridor and up another. Hunt made a point to tip his hat to the consecrated brides who passed his way. They responded with furtive glances before scampering out of sight, much to the cowboy’s amusement. When the trio arrived at their destination, Daniel paused to remove the key which had been left in the lock on the outer side of the door.
“C’mon. Give me five minutes with Blondie,” Hunt urged.
“It’s Erik,”
