Pia Saves the Day

Chapter Ten

While his first breakthrough was nothing short of miraculous, his recovery was not quite so simple or easy.

They took two more days together, partly so that he could gain some control over the volatility of his mating urges, and partly to see if he might regain more of his memories before they began to deal with the outside world again.

After hours of patiently talking between long bouts of lovemaking, he recalled most of their time together. A few odd bits and pieces still remained missing, but he lost the sense of competing with the other Dragos, especially when he recalled the intensity of mating with her the first time.

She was right. She was in his bones. One morning, as they lay exhausted and entwined, he whispered into her hair, “I’ll always mate with you.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she whispered back, “I believe you.”

Pia managed to convince him that he should have at least one consultation with Dr. Kathryn Shaw, the Wyr surgeon who often treated sentinels when they were injured. Because of that, the doctor was privy to certain confidences.

Although he finally agreed, Dragos was reluctant to do even that. Secretive by nature, it went against a very strong instinct in him to reveal to anyone the fact that his memory still remained impaired.

The morning of the consultation, Graydon brought Kathryn to the house. She was another avian Wyr, a falcon, and they flew in to land in the clearing, shapeshifted into their human forms and stood talking together for a few minutes before walking up to the front door.

They were the first people to return to the estate. Their arrival had been carefully choreographed, with nothing left to chance, so that Dragos could observe both of them from a distance.

When he laid eyes on Graydon’s brawny figure, Dragos said immediately, “Of course, I know him. He is a good friend of mine—one of my best friends—and we’ve worked together for centuries.”

Pia’s expression lit up all over again. “You absolutely have.”

When Dragos switched his attention to Kathryn, his frustration returned.

Like most Wyr falcons, the doctor had a nervy, slender form. Her large, honey brown eyes were sharp with intelligence, and she had thick chestnut hair, which she wore pinned away from her narrow face with a plain tortoiseshell barrette.

At Pia’s inquiring glance, he said, “I’m supposed to know her too.”

She responded as though he had actually asked a question. “Yes. She’s part of our extended inner circle, and she’s one of the few people who knows what my Wyr form is. Between her surgery skills and my healing ability, we managed to save Aryal’s wings after she’d been badly hurt earlier this year.”

Aryal was one of his sentinels, the contentious one. He and Pia had gone over everything she knew about the sentinels the night before.

His mouth tightened. “I’ve got nothing.”

“That’s okay.” Pia laid a hand on his arm, and he calmed. He always calmed when she touched him. “Will you still let her examine you? Please?”

If the doctor knew about Pia’s Wyr form, Dragos could deal with her knowing about him too. “Yes.”

She leaned out the front door and waved her arm in invitation, and Graydon and Kathryn approached.

As they drew close, they slowed. At their uncertain expressions, Dragos said to the doctor, “Not you.” He looked into Graydon’s familiar gray eyes and smiled. “Yes, you.”

A broad, relieved grin broke over Graydon’s rugged features. As the other man stepped forward, Dragos pulled him into a quick, hard hug.

After letting him go, Graydon made as if he might hug Pia too, but she stepped away nimbly with a warning smile, at which he caught himself up with a sheepish expression.

Dragos had room to be grateful for her quick thinking at maintaining some distance between her and the other man. Wyr could be dangerously volatile when they were in the middle of mating, and in so many ways, he was still a stranger to himself.

Dragos and Pia had cleaned up the broken glass in his office and taped the open window with a covering of thick plastic, so the doctor examined him there.

Graydon went to the kitchen to wait, while Pia remained close by Dragos’s side as Kathryn shone a bright penlight into his eyes, tested his reflexes and balance, and asked him a series of questions.

She took care to ask before she did anything, which helped. After getting his assent, she also examined him magically.

Gritting his teeth, he endured the sensation of alien magic sweeping through his head. She was clearly adept at handling injured Wyr with uncertain control over their more violent impulses, and she finished that part of the examination quickly.

Afterward, the doctor perched a hip on the edge of the nearby mahogany table and regarded them with calm, intelligent eyes.

“You already know I’m a surgeon and not a neurologist,” Kathryn said. “So my first advice is, we should find you someone who specializes in treating patients with amnesia.”

“No,” Dragos said. Beside him, Pia stirred. They held hands, and he clamped his fingers tightly over hers. He told her again, “No. It’s hard enough for me to trust Kathryn with this. I will not consult with a total stranger.”

Pia’s shoulders slumped, and she sighed, although she didn’t look surprised.

Neither did Kathryn. “Let me know if you revisit that decision,” the doctor said. “In the meantime, treating memory loss is as much an art as it is a science, but we do know some things. For example, different types of memory are stored in different ways. Your procedural memory, which involves skills and tasks, appears to be undamaged. You know how to take a shower, how to fly, how to get dressed, etc.”

Unexpectedly, one corner of Dragos’s mouth quirked. He said, deadpan, “Or how to ride a bicycle.”

He felt, rather than saw, Pia’s attention flash to him. An exhalation of laughter escaped her, as she shifted in her chair.

“Exactly,” said Kathryn. “Then there’s declarative memory, which has two parts—semantic and episodic. Semantic memory contains facts and concepts. Episodic memory contains events and experiences. From what you’ve said, most of your semantic memory appears to be undamaged, but not all of it. You retain many concepts and facts, but the more closely those are tied to your episodic memory—or your events and experiences—the more likely there might be some impairment.”

As wordy as that was, it was starting to sound a lot like Pia’s complicated concepts.

“Explain,” he ordered.

“Okay.” Kathryn’s reply was easygoing enough. She exchanged a glance with Pia and shifted into a more settled position. “You know there is the Wyr demesne here in New York.”

“Yes, but I didn’t recall that a few days ago.” He thought of the wounded dragon resting on the ledge while waiting for a suicidal fool to climb up to him. “I was pretty deep into my animal nature.”

“You’ve done a lot of healing since then.” Kathryn hesitated and glanced at Pia again. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to respond quickly, without giving it too much thought. How is the relationship between the Wyr demesne and the Dark Fae demesne?”

“Not bad,” he said instantly, then he paused and frowned. “But that wasn’t always true, was it?”

“No,” Pia said. “It wasn’t.”

He looked at her from under lowered brows. “What happened?”

Her expression turned wry. “You and the Dark Fae King Urien didn’t get along. Urien kidnapped me, and you killed him. But we love the new queen, Niniane.”

Kathryn held up one slim hand. “So, on the one hand, you have the semantic memory, or the facts and concepts—which is, the Wyr demesne and the Dark Fae demesne haven’t always gotten along.” The doctor held up her other hand. “Here, on the other hand, you have episodic memory, or your events and experiences—which is, you killed the Dark Fae King. Both of these are housed in the declarative part of your memory. The damage you’ve sustained is in that area.”

Frustration welled again. Letting go of Pia’s hand, he raked his fingers through his hair. He said, “What you’re really saying is I might not remember certain facts and concepts if I’ve got some sort of personal event attached to it?”

“Yes,” replied Kathryn. “I think that’s likely.”

Which meant he might not remember old enemies or secrets that had been hidden long ago.

Inside, the dragon roused as he realized the world around him had gotten that much more dangerous.

Clearly thinking along the same lines, Pia muttered faintly, “Dragos has lived for millennia. He’s witnessed and interacted with so much history.”

The doctor said again, “Well, yes.” Kathryn looked at Dragos. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not sure how much a specialist could help you anyway. You have a… unique and capacious mind.”

“I’ve got to get those memories back,” he growled. “All of them.”

“I’m sorry.” Kathryn frowned. “There’s no easy way to say this. You did sustain brain damage. It’s real and discernible, and I could sense it as a shadowed area when I scanned you. It’s very possible the only reason why you’ve made as much progress as you have is because Pia is the one who healed you. I’ve seen the kind of miracle that can come from her healing.”

He lowered his hands and gave Pia a grim look. She whispered, “We’re lucky you’re alive, and you remember as much as you do.”

Lucky.

Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he leaned his forehead against hers.

Early that morning, in the first blush of dawn, he had speared into her body as she cried out his name, and he had been incredulous at the newness, the raw magnificence of it.

Yes, he was so damned lucky. More lucky than he ever deserved.

After a moment, Kathryn said, “There’s another important aspect of memory—emotion. The most vivid memories tend to be tied to emotion, so it’s possible those might come back the easiest. Imagery can also be used to stimulate further recall.”

As Dragos turned his attention back to the doctor, his eyes narrowed. “Pia told me about Graydon, but I didn’t remember him until I saw him.”

“That’s a great example,” Kathryn replied. “I suggest you go through all the photo albums you own. I can also put together some exercises that might help. Just remember, having someone remind you of an event—like killing the Dark Fae King—won’t stimulate true recall. But, now that you’ve started to remember some things, I think you can hope for more periods of spontaneous recovery.”

“Yet there’s no guarantee I’ll get it all back,” Dragos said.

Kathryn smiled. “No, but life doesn’t come with any guarantees, does it? Your recovery has already been pretty astonishing. Try to be patient and give your brain time to reroute new pathways. You never know what you might be able to achieve.”

There was truth in that. He had a mate and a son.

And he remembered a time when he never thought he would have either.

He met Pia’s gaze.

She mouthed at him, “Lucky.”

His lips tightened, but then he smiled and nodded.

After staying for another half an hour or so, Kathryn left, with a promise to return for a follow-up exam the following week.

Graydon sent for the rest of the sentinels, and afterward, the two men went out to the patio area, while Pia wandered off to make another phone call.

Graydon carried two bottles of cold beer from the kitchen. They had begun to sweat in the heat of the day. He handed one to Dragos, who inspected the label.

Oh, yes. He liked this beer.

He took a long pull, while Graydon sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees. “They’ll be here in a few,” Graydon said. “They were hanging out at a dive bar in town.”

Dragos tested out a few words. “Who… got the short straw?”

Graydon’s head came up, a smile lightening his craggy features. “Grym stayed in New York.”

Grym.

Scowling, Dragos tried and failed to recall what that sentinel looked like.

Graydon promised, “Maybe you have to see him, like you did with me. We’ll Skype with him later.”

His jaw tightened. “Kathryn said I might not get everything back. That means you and the others need to be extra vigilant, because the gods only know what I won’t recall.”

Straightening, the other man took a long, deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll handle it. We’ll teach you everything we know.”

“And we need to keep this quiet,” Dragos said. “The last thing we need is for this to leak out.”

Graydon rubbed the back of his neck. “A lot of people were at the construction site, and news of the accident has already gotten out to the public. But the only ones who know you lost your memory are the sentinels, and the doc.” His frowning gray gaze met Dragos’s. “It might take some fancy tap dancing, but we can keep this under wraps.”

Pia came into sight, and both men paused to look at her. She had her head bowed, as she concentrated on the person on the other end of the phone.

Graydon said in a quiet, telepathic voice, When you disappeared, she handled things like a boss. She got a plan in place that covered everything—she coordinated the search for you and even drew up a will. Just in case. Then she climbed up that mountain and healed your ass. It was a good thing she was around to save the day.

As she glanced toward them, Dragos smiled at her.

He said aloud, “Pia saves me every day.”

“Amen to that,” said Graydon.

They clinked bottles.

Pia hung up and walked over to them. She looked both excited and worried at once.

Dragos stood. “What is it?”

“Liam’s going to be here in a few minutes.” She bit her lip. “They’re driving in with the sentinels. Eva said to be braced.”

“What does that mean?”

Her worried expression deepened as she lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know! All she would say is that he went through another growth spurt.”

Together, they both turned to stare at Graydon, who winced at them apologetically. “Nothing’s wrong.” He held up both hands. “Liam is fine. So we decided it was best to not disturb you, until you had the capacity to deal with it.”

“Deal with what?” Dragos demanded.

His sharp hearing caught the sound of approaching vehicles, so without waiting to hear a reply, he strode through the house, Pia close on his heels.

Two SUVs pulled to a stop, containing Eva and Hugh, and five tall, strong-looking people, all of whom Dragos knew immediately.

Aryal and Quentin. Bayne, Constantine, and Alex.

All his sentinels, except for Grym, who had drawn the short straw and stayed in the city.

Pushing past him, Pia ran down the steps toward the SUV that carried Eva and Hugh. Belatedly, Dragos realized that what he had taken for a space in the backseat was actually filled with a car seat.

Of course it was.

Eva leaped out of the passenger seat, one hand held out toward Pia. “He’s all right, it’s all right. Aw, shit, there’s no way to make this easier.”

“What the hell?” Pia exclaimed at her angrily. She pushed past Eva and yanked open the rear door to look inside.

Silence fell over the group, as they stood watching, all except for Dragos, who strode rapidly toward the SUV. His stomach clenched as Pia whispered, “Oh, my God.”

She reached into the backseat and lifted out a smiling, tow-headed boy.

A big, beautiful boy. A much bigger boy than the toddler Dragos remembered. He was no expert on children, but Liam looked to be twice as big, maybe four years old.

“What the fuck?” he whispered.

Pia sank to her knees, hugging Liam tight, and the boy threw his arms around her neck. “What did I miss?” she cried. “What did I miss?”

“I missed you,” Liam told her. “Bunches and bunches. Hi, Mom.”

The boy talked.

Reaching their side, Dragos sank to his knees beside them.

“Look at you,” Pia breathed. She ran her hands compulsively over Liam. “How did this happen?”

Liam beamed. “I’m being a big soldier.”

Her eyes went wide, and she looked as if she’d been punched.

The boy cocked his head, and his smile started to dim. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Immediately she snatched him tight, kissing him all over his face and hugging him fiercely, as she sobbed, “Of course it is. You’re such a good, good boy. You’re the most amazing boy I’ve ever seen. It’s okay to stop growing now. It really is. You can stop for a while. Dear God, you’re big enough.”

Liam kissed her back then turned his attention to Dragos and grew still.

Sensing Liam’s change in focus, Pia looked at Dragos, too. With obvious reluctance, she let her arms loosen and let Liam stand on his own.

Dragos wanted to reach for him, but Liam hung back, leaning against his mom.

Dragos asked, “Are you afraid of me?”

Shaking his head, the boy asked a question of his own. “Do you remember me?”

“I do,” he said, a little hoarsely. “I remember you so well, and I really don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

Liam pushed away from Pia and stepped toward him. Holding very still, Dragos watched many expressions pass over that young face.

Liam looked into his gaze. It was an old, deep look from those violet eyes, a look that did not seem to come from a child.

Then Liam smiled and patted him on the cheek.

He said in a gentle voice, “You’re a good dad.”

Astonished, broken wide open, Dragos felt something slide down his face. He touched his cheek and discovered wetness. Feeling a fullness and depth of emotion he had never felt before, he watched as Liam slipped around him and skipped toward the house.