NATHAN CROSS STRIKE BACK..

Chapter 21

At that moment, upon hearing what the secretary had just asked Are you done?  Nathan felt a flicker of uncertainty pass through him.

Yes, it was done.

He could feel that much with absolute certainty.

The spiritual energy he had transferred into Vivienne's body had completed its work. The unnatural cold that had been consuming her from the inside out had been neutralized. Her internal systems had been stabilized. The root cause of her condition had been addressed.

It was done.

But there was supposed to be a reaction by now.

Nathan frowned slightly, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he studied Vivienne's peaceful, sleeping face.

According to the knowledge that had somehow become part of him — knowledge he did not remember learning but that felt as natural as breathing — there was supposed to be a final stage in the healing process.

A purge.

The body was supposed to expel the toxins, the corrupted energy, the physical manifestations of whatever had been causing the problem in the first place.

She was supposed to have vomited already.

That was the confirmation.

That was how he would know, without any doubt, that what he had done had actually worked.

So why was she not vomiting?

Why was she just lying there, looking as if she was sleeping peacefully, like someone who had just woken up from the best rest of their life and was drifting back into pleasant dreams?

Something was wrong.

Or... not wrong, exactly.

But different from what he had expected.

"Is it done?" the secretary's voice cut through his thoughts again, sharper this time, more insistent. "Is it done like this? Why is she not responding? Why is she looking as if she is sleeping?"

Nathan looked up at Claire, meeting her suspicious, furious gaze with a calm he did not entirely feel.

"Yes," Nathan said quietly. "It is done. I am sure she is going to open her eyes any minute from now."

Claire's eyes narrowed.

She opened her mouth to say something else — probably something cutting and accusatory, if her expression was any indication.

But before she could speak, Vivienne's eyes snapped open.

Not slowly.

Not gradually, like someone waking from a peaceful sleep.

But suddenly, all at once, her eyes flying open wide as her body went rigid.

And then she vomited.

It was violent.

Immediate.

She lurched forward, her body convulsing, and a stream of blackish substance poured from her mouth onto the pavement in front of her.

It was thick.

Viscous.

It looked like blood — but not fresh blood. Not the bright red of an open wound or even the dark red of old bruising.

This was black.

Completely, utterly black, like blood that had been sitting in her body for weeks or months, blood that had gone bad, blood that had rotted from the inside.

And it smelled.

Not strongly, but enough that everyone standing nearby could detect it — a faint, foul odor that made Claire's nose wrinkle in disgust and several of the bodyguards take an instinctive step backward.

But that was not even the worst part.

Mixed in with the blackish substance were tiny particles.

Little white specks that moved.

*Wriggled.*

They looked like parasites.

Like worms.

Tiny, thread-like creatures that had somehow been living inside Vivienne's body and were now being expelled along with the corrupted blood and toxins.

Claire stared at the vomit in horrified fascination.

Then she looked at Vivienne.