Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

poisonous
     microbes in the soil.”
    “He definitely attacked your people,” Gary admitted, “nearly destroying an entire
     species over time, but he had some help along the way.”
    “The flower?”
    Gary sighed. “I think the toxins in the soil, the microbes Xavier introduced, killed
     off the flower. Gabrielle . . .” He stopped, glanced at Jubal and then shrugged. “Jubal’s
     sister is conducting research with me. Some of the ancients have returned to their
     homeland and when she interviewed them, a fertility ritual with this flower came up
     again and again. We began to believe there was something to it, so we focused on finding
     out what happened to it.”
    “We use satellites and computers,” Jubal added. “The good thing about being around
     a long time is the accumulation of wealth and knowledge so Carpathians can afford
     all the latest gadgets. We have a couple of kids in the community that are amazing
     on computers. They’ve programmed theirs to look for certain trigger words. The man
     who filmed the ruins on the mountain and sent the pictures to the professor also filmed
     the flower and posted it on his website, asking if anyone knew what it was. He thought
     he’d found a new species. Josef, that’s our resident genius, picked it up and we came
     looking for it.”
    “They can’t be native here,” Gary speculated aloud.
    “Arabejila planted them. She loved them and knew she’d end her life here. She wanted
     a little bit of home. They only bloom at night, and she planted them up near the village
     where she planned to live out her days,” Dax said.
    “Are there a lot of them?” Gary asked. “Enough that we can harvest the roots and transplant
     them back where they belong? Did they survive the blast?”
    Dax nodded slowly. “I can gather them tonight with the roots intact. The larger flower
     carries the seeds. The dragon covers ground fast. I could be at the top of the mountain
     and catch up to you fairly quickly.”
    “You’ll need to pack the roots in soil,” Riley contributed. “I could go with you to
     help,” she offered, feeling suddenly shy. There was a part of her that was afraid
     of rejection, but the idea of flying across the night sky on the back of a dragon
     and spending more time with Dax was irresistible.
    Dax rose, reaching down to take her hand and draw her up next to him. “I would enjoy
     your company very much, Riley.”
    He pulled her back against his body, the movement so natural she felt as if she belonged.
     His body felt strong, firm, an anchor in the midst of a storm. Excitement fluttered
     in her stomach. He reached around her, circling her body with his arms, trapping her
     against his chest, his hands clasped at her waist.
    “You will have to be careful,” Dax continued, as though he hadn’t just made his claim
     very public. He was extraordinarily gentle, and so easygoing and natural about it,
     Riley could tell the movement was a gesture of ownership, but more his need to be
     close to her.
    “Mitro is well ahead of us,” he continued instructing the others. “And he’s making
     his way out of the jungle, but he needs information, just as I did. He’s been long
     away from this world and he’ll have to catch up. He’ll need languages and every bit
     of data he can accumulate to fit in easily.”
    “He’ll know you’re hunting him,” Jubal said. “Won’t he just run? It seems the prudent
     thing to do.”
    Dax shook his head. His thumb slid back and forth in a little caress across the bare
     skin of her stomach just beneath her shirt. Riley wasn’t altogether certain he was
     aware of that little strumming motion.
    “He’ll need blood first, and the knowledge of this century is all important to his
     survival. He will avoid me, and especially Riley. I think he believes she’s Arabejila,
     and he knows she can track him. He’ll head for a populated area, but he’ll want to
     slow us down. He’ll set traps to kill us and false leads to delay us.”
    “We’ll be careful, Dax. We’ll keep moving toward the river.” He glanced over his shoulder
     in the direction of the others. “Weston and Shelton are asking questions why we’re
     not making a straight line for the river. Miguel hasn’t said anything to them, but
     they have GPS.”
    Dax frowned, clearly not understanding. He touched Jubal’s mind and “read” the information
     and then rolled his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Instruments can be