Free Deep Water by Nicola Cameron Page B

to throw up?” Nick
said.
    Griffin shook his head, then frowned,
looking down at his lap. He went crimson and clasped his hands over the stain.
“Shit.” His voice was raw with humiliation. “I’m sorry—”
    Nick waved it off. “It’s tile. Easy
cleanup, don’t worry about it,” he said. “Do you want to sit there for a bit,
or do you want to try getting up?”
    Griffin’s face was still red. “I want to
get up.”
    “Okay. Dunn?”
    “Oh. Yes.” Scrambling to get his feet
under him, Poseidon helped Griffin stand up. He didn’t want to let go, but the
man almost tore out of his grasp.
    “I can do it,” Griffin growled. “Where’s
the loo?”
    “This way.” Nick stayed off to one side,
ready to grab his patient if he started heading south again. Helpless, Poseidon
followed with the dog (Norma, he remembered belatedly) in tow.
    Once the bathroom door closed in their
faces, Poseidon pulled the doctor to one side. “Do you know what’s wrong with
him?” he asked.
    Nick looked uncertain. “It could be a lot
of things. I can check him with the Rod if you want.”
    “Do it.”
    Nodding, he ducked into his bedroom and
came back with what looked like a novelty pen with a tiny golden snake wound
around it. He held it up and aimed at the door, eyes going distant with
concentration.
    After far too brief a time, Nick lowered
the miniaturized Rod of Asclepius and sighed. “Shit. I was afraid of that. It’s
cancer.”
    At first the word didn’t register with
Poseidon as something that deserved such a grave response. It was the name of an
astrological water sign, the Latin word for crab.
    And then he remembered the human
meaning—cells mutating, running wild and killing off healthy cells, draining
the body of vitality.
    “What kind?” he said, his lips feeling
strangely numb.
    “Cerebral glioblastoma multiforme .
Looks like stage four.”
    More nonsensical terms. “What does that
mean?” Poseidon demanded.
    Nick gave him a sympathetic look. “It
means it’s terminal. He’s going to die.”
    —she was never
meant to be with you forever, Lord Poseidon. Medusa was mortal, after all. I
would suggest that you move quickly before her thread ends.
    The Fates had warned him. He’d seen it
himself in Griffin’s aura. But he’d thought his agapetos ’s ending would be due to
Thetis, or some sort of an accident—something he could ward against, something
he could evade. Not a fatal illness.
    And for all his immense control over the
oceans and earthquakes, he had no power to heal.
    The sorrow in Nick’s expression and the
gentle tone of his next words somehow made things even worse. “The tumor is far
too deep in the brain for surgery, and from what I could tell Griffin’s already
been through radiation and chemo,” he said. “I don’t think there’s anything I
can do—”
    Poseidon watched as if his hands belonged
to someone else, closing around Nick’s collar and pulling him onto his tiptoes.
“He is not going to die,” he said, his voice utterly calm. “I will not allow
it, do you hear me?”
    Nick’s face went red as he clutched at Poseidon’s
hands. At their feet Norma let out a high-pitched growl followed by a volley of
barks.
    “Lord, please!” Someone grabbed his wrists,
trying to pull him loose.
    With an effort, Poseidon made himself let
go. Nick dropped with a thump, staggering back against the bedroom wall.
    A tall mer still
gripped Poseidon’s wrists. The mer’s eyes widened and
he yanked his hands back, but stood his ground. “Forgive me, Lord, but you were
hurting him.”
    “ It’s okay, Li,”
Nick gasped, rubbing his reddened throat. “I’m okay.”
    Norma darted in front of both Nick and
Liam, still growling at Poseidon. He sucked in a shuddering breath, fighting
for control. It’s not his fault.
    “My apologies, Nicholas,” he said roughly.
“And to you as well, Liam. How long…” He couldn’t force out the words.
    The doctor swallowed, still rubbing