Plague Saint [REMOVING FOR PUBLICATION JUNE 1]

Chapter Thirteen: Two of Saints

Marcus's expression was almost unreadable. Almost. He lifted an eyebrow and the barest hint of amusement danced in his eyes. "I heard the tests for some of the plagues came back positive, though."

Winter had expected she would need to convince Phoebe's uncle of foul play to get him to diverge information about his work. But giving him information now could be a mistake. Would he figure out that she killed Adams, too? Assume that she was responsible for Gordon's death, too, once that became public?

"They have a few theories about how someone might have gotten him sick, but I don't know the details. Most of the information is being kept secret." Winter leaned forward. "But I did hear someone say they think it's connected to plague research. Like, someone had new information on how to treat them, but someone else wanted to keep it secret. I don't know exactly what that has to do with Adams though." She hoped she looked as ignorant as she sounded. "But—" Her eyes darted to her right, to Phoebe, who was nodding encouragingly. "Phoebe mentioned you were involved with that kind of research."

Marcus really was unreadable now. He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded slowly. "I was afraid some people were after my work. And when I was attacked in my lab a couple of weeks ago, my suspicions were confirmed. But I expected something like that might happen." Blackburn's gaze darkened as it moved over Winter's face. "If you control the plagues, you control the people."

A faint ding came from the kitchen. "Oh, the cookies!" Phoebe jumped to her feet. "I'll be back in a minute."

Winter's heart skipped a beat. "Do you want help?"

"No, I've got it. Be right back!" With that, Phoebe darted out of the room, leaving Winter alone with the man she'd tried to kill. After he'd tried to kill her mother.

"So, Winter." Blackburn leaned back in his chair. "Do you enjoy working at the guard station? It must be an exciting job."

Winter swallowed. "It's actually boring for the most part, at least for me. Like I mentioned earlier, I basically just do paperwork."

He responded with a slow nod. "Ah. Not much work on your part, then. Just working with what other people accomplished."

Winter's eyes narrowed. "Well, not entirely. People make mistakes. I have to correct them."

"How do you know what's a mistake and what's simply something you...don't see eye to eye on?"

"To begin with, I don't see helping people as a mistake."

A cold smile crossed Blackburn's face. Mistake. What Winter had just said was a mistake. He knew she was the one who'd taken his place.

"Help some, hurt others...that's how it goes, isn't it?"

"It doesn't have to be." Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

"So, you help everyone you possibly can? No matter what they've done?"

Winter had nearly killed him, taken his job, and was undoing his work at the hospital. Why did he seem so damn amused?

Winter didn't have to come up with a response. Phoebe returned with the tray of cookies, oblivious to the tension. "So," she said as she set the tray down. "I know we asked you this, but you've been pretty vague. Where did you go after you were attacked? Why were you gone for two weeks?"

Marcus sighed. "I was trying to keep you all safe," he told Phoebe. "I was afraid they'd follow me if I came back here. I had to stay away long enough that I could be sure they didn't know where I was. Even now, we have to be alert. That's why I've been so on edge."

Phoebe swallowed and nodded. "I'm so sorry, Mark, I—"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Marcus interrupted. "I knew my research would put me at risk, and I did it anyway, because I knew it was important. I won't give up until I find a cure."