“I don’t remember talking about any other poisons,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Well… yes,” Warwick says. “We have a blade that was used to kill… another phoenix, a long time ago.” There’s grief in his voice and I don’t ask, sensing that it’s sensitive. “It has the poison on it. Why?”
“If you get me a sample of that poison, I’d like to study it,” I explain. “I’m a toxicologist, Warwick. My job is to find and identify poisons… and to develop antidotes. Maybe I might be able to make an antidote for your poison.”
Warwick freezes.
“Seriously?” he asks, mouth dropping open.
“Maybe,” I warn him. “It’s tough work, and it doesn’t always happen.” Then I smile slightly at him. “But I’d like to try. I love doing this sort of thing, and it would have the added bonus of helping you and Dane.”
“That would be amazing,” Warwick breathes, and that intensely warm look is back in his eyes again. “I’ll get a sample to you as soon as possible.”
“Will Dane agree to that?” I ask; I’d gotten the impression that Dane doesn’t like me.
“Dane is paranoid, don’t take it personally,” Warwick says dismissively.
“His paranoia might have been what’s helped the two of you stay alive all these years,” I point out. Then, because I’m suddenly very curious, “Remind me who’s older between the two of you?”
“I am, why?” Warwick asks, blinking at me.
“No reason,” I say quickly, trying to pretend that I’m not very surprised by this.
With how careful and responsible Dane is, I honestly would have picked him as the older sibling. I take a quick sip of my coffee and smile at Warwick over it, hoping he doesn’t get suspicious.
“Right…” Warwick says, eyeing me. “Well, anyway, he’ll come around. Even he can see that it would be beneficial to have an antidote one day. Is there anything we can do to help you with it?”
“Probably not,” I say, amused. “I’m trained in this field; I can just imagine you accidentally poisoning yourself.”
“I wouldn’t,” Warwick says, outraged. “I can be careful in a lab.”
“Just like you know how to milk a cow,” I remind him, deadpan.
“I do!” he protests. “I was just… distracted!”
I laugh and, after a moment, he joins in. This is nice, I can’t help but think. Even when I was with David, we barely had any time to sit down quietly like this and tease one another. This is peaceful and domestic, and I’m surprised at how good it feels.
The farm is a lot of pressure, far more than I had expected. And now I have the added worry of poachers, Hunters and Supernaturals arriving at some point, as well as two phoenix brothers, one that I’m drawn to like a magnet. Life is never simple, it seems.
“Well, if you really want to help out, helping with the farm work would be great, if I’m going to be spending time in the lab,” I say. I pause. “If you can handle it, that is.”
As Warwick splutters, I grin. Yes, life has become infinitely more complicated in a very short space of time.
But, somehow, I can’t bring myself to mind very much.
Warwick
Part of me knows that I need to go home, but I find that I’m not quite ready to as Luciana and I clear away our breakfast, having ended up making some plain toast when our stomachs rumbled. I’m surprised and pleased by the easy camaraderie that surrounds us, but there’s a part of me that’s worried, too.
Have I somehow affected Luciana? She has fallen just as quickly and easily into this odd, peaceful relationship as I have, and I wonder if maybe the fact that I’ve claimed her as my mate has affected her emotions. If so, I’m not entirely sure what to do about it.
For now, I decide, I’ll just watch and keep an eye on the situation.
Instead, I turn my mind to her offer. It had floored me when she had brought up possibly making an antidote to the poison, though I’m not sure why I should be so surprised. I had seen how interested she was last night when I brought it up.
And having an antidote to that dreadful poison would mean there’s one less threat against Dane and me in the world. Now I just have to convince Dane to trust Luciana enough to allow it to happen.
It’s probably another reason why I should be heading home. But, instead, I find myself following Luciana as she heads out the back, flipping through an old, leather journal.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“My father’s journal,” Luciana says, glancing up and squinting in the morning sun. “He left it for me before he died. It’s all the instructions on how to care for the animals.”
“That’s amazing,” I say, eyeing the ratty thing.
“Yes and no,” Luciana says with a sigh, snapping it closed. “It would have been really helpful if he had actually catalogued what was on the farm, but apparently he’s hopeless with those sorts of records. I’ve been trying to find out where some of the rare creatures came from, but his study is a mess and I can’t make heads or tails of some of his files. So I’ve decided to start my own catalogue.”
She holds up another, larger notebook, this one crisp and new.
“You’re really taking all this seriously, aren’t you?” I ask.
“Of course,” Luciana says with a nod. “Someone needs to care for these animals. My father is gone and he’s left me to do it. They have no one else.”
I look at her. She’s staring out into the fields, the sun gleaming on her dark hair. I can’t read the expression on her face.
“Do you miss him?” I ask before I can stop myself.
But she doesn’t seem offended. She gives me a small, sad smile.
“The longer I’m here, the more I realise just how much I don’t know about him,” she says. “My mother and I moved to Brazil when I was young, and I didn’t connect with my father until I was older, after she died. But our relationship wasn’t really great. I was really surprised that he had left this place to me and taken the time to write this journal for me. I would have thought there was someone closer to him that he would trust more.”
She shrugs, as though the notion doesn’t affect her.
“But here we are,” she says. “I thought I would hate it here, to be honest.”
“Is it different from where you live?” I ask curiously, wanting to steer away from the subject of her family.
“I lived in Manaus, a city in Brazil,” she says. “But I also travelled all around the world. Just before I came here, I was in Burkina Faso.”
“I have no idea where that is,” I admit, and she laughs, patting me on the shoulder.
“It’s fine,” she says.
“Do you like it here now?” I ask, suddenly needing to know the answer.
“I think so,” she says, and the smile she gives me is beautiful. “So, country boy, want to take another shot at proving you actually can milk a cow?”
“You are not going to let that go, are you?” I ask wryly.
“Never,” she says, shooting a grin at me.