“Good,” she said, withdrawing a sealed envelope from her pocket. “You know what this is, right?”
David looked at it vacantly.
“Most people would be glad to get a million dollars.”
A lanky man with a badge that identified him as Dr. Alan Ross came out of the room, noting something on a chart and saying, “David, can I have a word with you?”
He acknowledged Kathryn, but didn’t say anything more until David explained that she was a family member and the doctor could speak freely in front of her.
“In that case,” the doctor said, “I’ll say I’m stumped.”
“Stumped?”
“Your sister says she feels great, and trust me, she shouldn’t.”
“But is she?”
“I’ll know a lot more tomorrow when all the tests can be done. I’m certainly not releasing her tonight. But for now? I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s rallied in a way I’ve never seen before. All her vital signs are back to normal, and I just called down to the lab and the blood test we took is clean as a whistle. They thought I must have mixed up some samples.” He shook his head in wonderment. “She even looks a hundred percent better. Gary said she just called the house and told Emme to get out of bed—and this is a school night, mind you—and come right over. I’ve never seen a remission like this. I wish I could claim I’d performed some miracle here, but I didn’t.”
“Maybe someone else did,” Kathryn said.
“Maybe so,” he admitted. “Maybe so.” Shaking David’s hand happily, he said, “Whatever happened, it’s great news. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.” Then, glancing at David’s shock of white hair, he said, “When did you decide to do that?”
“It was kind of … impulsive.”
Still in a rollicking humor, the doctor said, “Next time you get an impulse like that, talk to Sarah. She was always the sensible one of you two.”
He sauntered off, snapping his fingers at his side, and Kathryn tucked the check into David’s breast pocket. Without another word, he fished La Medusa out from under his collar. It turned slowly on its chain, the Gorgon’s glare catching the light.
But the moment it landed in her palm, she snapped her hand shut like a trap. “A pleasure doing business with you,” she said before turning back down the hall. She was squeezing the amulet so tight her knuckles hurt.
But she had it, she had it at last!
She had just gone through the revolving door and into the cold night air—snow was swirling off the concrete—when a black Mercedes sedan, its headlights casting a bright blue glow, tore up to the driveway, skidding to a stop at the icy curb.
She stepped back, signaling to Cyril to bring her own limo around, when the back door of the car opened and a long, black walking stick descended onto the cement. It was followed a moment later by a man with a coat draped over his shoulders, in the Continental style. He had strong features, with a prominent Italian nose, a thick moustache, black hair dusted at the temples with gray … and a scowl that might have scared a legion.
Kathryn stopped where she stood, so suddenly that he almost collided with her. Apologizing as he passed, he momentarily glanced back.
And that was all it took.
Disbelief gave way to dawning amazement. She saw his eyes searching her face, his lips moving to form the right word.
“Caterina?” he said, as a nimbus of snowflakes whirled above their heads.
It was as if the world had stopped turning. All the strength had left her limbs.
“Benvenuto,” she replied.
Dropping the cane, the coat falling from his shoulders, he snatched her into his arms, so violently that the Medusa, clutched in her hand, slipped through her fingers and landed with a sharp crack on the pavement.
“My God!” she exclaimed, looking down as its glass shattered into a thousand tiny fragments. A thin rivulet of pale green water trickled out, sizzling on the ice like acid. Before she could even consider the consequences, she felt a rush of hot blood pounding in her veins, and a flush filling her cheeks. She gasped in shock and saw that her lover was reeling, too. A light was blazing in his face, and his breathing was labored. Their eyes locked, and though they said nothing, they didn’t have to. Both of them knew what the other was thinking, and feeling. Both of them had imagined this release for centuries.
Still holding her in his arms, he glanced down at his fallen cane. But she could feel his back straightening, his legs growing stronger under him. She could sense an even greater power than before surging through his body, just as it was doing through her own.
“Il mio gatto,” he said, a wide smile lifting the ends of his moustache and his strong arms buoying her up. “Still causing trouble, I see.”
But she was too overwhelmed to reply.