Valerian ripped the plastic away, then slapped another bag on. Turning to them then, he shrugged. “She’ll be fine.”
When Wyatt scowled at him, he asked, “Do you want to know what’s going on here or not?” He paused briefly and then added, “We’ll leave the door open and check on her frequently.”
“Fine.” He sighed and moved back to G.G. to ask, “Are you okay to walk?”
G.G. arched one eyebrow. Tone dry, he asked, “Why? You planning to carry me if I’m not?”
“Hell no,” Wyatt said at once. “I make it a rule never to carry cars, tanks, or giants.”
A bark of startled laughter erupted from the big man. It was quickly followed by a pained wince and a groan.
“I got this,” Sofia announced and stepped up to scoop the man off his feet as if he weighed little more than a toddler. When G.G. immediately roared in protest, she rolled her eyes and moved quickly toward a door at the other side of the room, muttering, “Oh, stifle it, you big baby. I’ll put you down in a minute.”
Realizing that the door she was headed for was closed, Wyatt rushed ahead and opened it for her, then watched her carry the huge man in with amusement. Sofia was perhaps five-feet-four-inches and didn’t look like she would weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, but she was carrying the giant like he was the pipsqueak.
Shaking his head, Wyatt moved into the office and glanced around. It was a good size, with one wall painted dark brown, and the other three painted beige. The floor was hardwood. There was a large desk, a couch, a chair, and a television on one side, while several large filing cabinets, a printer/copier/fax combo, and a shredder took up part of the other side, with a small bar in the far corner. Sofia carried G.G. around the large, solid oak desk and set him in the cushioned leather chair behind it. She then moved over to the bar to pull ice out of the freezer. She dumped some in a glass and then grabbed a bottle of pop and began to pour it over the ice.
“Tahiti Treat?” Wyatt said with a grin. “Man, I love that stuff. Haven’t seen it in the stores in ages, though.”
“It’s called Tahitian Treat now,” G.G. told him.
“He orders it from the States at a ridiculous price,” Sofia said dryly as she replaced the pop container and closed the refrigerator.
“Hey, I don’t comment on what you drink,” G.G. muttered and then added a surly, “Thank you,” when she handed him his drink.
Sofia nodded and headed out of the room. “I’m going to open up.”
“Thanks, Sofia,” G.G. repeated, and then turned to Tybo and Valerian. “So, are one of you guys going to tape up my ribs, or what?”
“No,” Tybo said at once. “Dr. Rachel’s on her way to do it for you.”
“What?” G.G. asked with alarm.
“I’m not going to risk being responsible for one of your ribs puncturing your lungs or heart or something,” Tybo told him firmly. “I will not be known as the immortal who killed the Green Giant.”
“Neither will I,” Valerian added.
“Cowards,” G.G. muttered.
“Rachel should be here soon. She and Sam were already downtown shopping when I called,” Tybo announced as Wyatt moved back to the open door to peer out at Elspeth. She was still lying silent and unmoving on the tabletop, he noted with a frown.
“What’s the matter? The bag’s not empty already, is it?” Valerian asked, moving up beside him to look at Elspeth as well.
“Nearly,” Wyatt said, but asked, “Why isn’t she screaming and thrashing again? Isn’t she healing anymore? You said that’s why she reacted that way after the first bag, but she’s not reacting at all now and that’s her third bag.”
“She will,” he assured him solemnly. “She just wore herself out with her first round. She’ll start up again. Soon,” he added darkly as they heard a soft moan. “I’m going to change out the blood bag. Tybo, why don’t you start explaining about immortals to Wyatt while I do?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tybo said and then eyed Wyatt speculatively. “So . . . Elspeth hasn’t told you anything at all about us?”
Wyatt shook his head and glanced out to the kitchen as Valerian tugged the empty bag from Elspeth’s mouth and slapped another on.
“Great,” Tybo said lightly. “So, okay, here’s the deal. Our ancestors come from Olympus.”
Wyatt swung around to blink at him. “Olympus?”
“Yeah, we’re the children of Gods and nymphs, so we’re super strong and also super sexy.”
A burst of laughter slipped from G.G. that was quickly followed by a gasped curse. “Damn, Tybo, cut that out. It hurts to laugh.”
“Sorry, buddy,” Tybo said with a grin, and then taunted, “But if you’d let your mother turn you, you wouldn’t have to worry about stuff like broken ribs. You’d already be healed.”
“Oh, just shut up about that and tell him the truth,” G.G. growled with irritation.
“All right. Jeez, you’re turning into a grumpy sod in your old age, G.G.,” Tybo accused.
“I’m thirty-six,” G.G. muttered, rolling his eyes. “A damned sight younger than you. Now start again, and the truth this time.”
Six
Wyatt waited patiently as Tybo gathered his thoughts. It seemed to take a while, but finally the man settled on the corner of G.G.’s desk, crossed his arms, and began.
“So, there was this doctor fellow. Kind of a mad scientist type. He wanted to find a way to heal injuries and fight illnesses such as cancer and stuff without having to perform surgeries, or administer chemo or radiation. He felt those things just caused more damage. He wanted something that worked from inside the body. Understand?”
Wyatt nodded. So far the man was making sense. Raising his eyebrows, he suggested, “And the nanos Sofia mentioned are what he came up with?”
“Yes,” Tybo said. “But they aren’t your typical tiny machines. He managed to bioengineer nanos that travel in blood, and use blood to propel themselves and perform their work as well as to replicate themselves. That way they could be injected into the body without fear of the body’s immune system attacking them. They could also make more of themselves if higher numbers were needed for more serious wounds.”
“Okay,” Wyatt murmured when he paused. “Sounds brilliant.”
“Yeah,” Tybo agreed. “But after working to get his idea to that point, our scientist got lazy. Rather than develop nanos programmed for each different injury, or illness, he made one program with a map of the male and female body at their peak condition and the executive order for the nanos to ensure their host was at that peak condition. Once they’d accomplished that, they were supposed to self-destruct.”
“What went wrong?” Wyatt asked, knowing something must have. There was no other explanation for these immortals who apparently had the nanos living inside them.
“Our mad scientist didn’t consider that the body is always under attack. There’s pollution, sunlight, airborne germs, bacteria on every surface . . .” He shrugged. “Even the simple passage of time. The nanos never finish their assigned task of getting their host at their peak. They never self-destruct, so just continue to work inside their host, keeping them from aging, getting ill, or—hell, even getting cavities. They just stay, toiling away and keeping their host forever healthy and forever young.”
“What about the fangs?” Wyatt asked when he fell silent. “And the superhuman strength? I mean, Sofia carried G.G. around like a baby, and Elspeth was throwing everyone around like some crazy strong bull.”
“Yeah,” Tybo said with wry amusement. “They weren’t part of the programming. The nanos apparently came up with that stuff themselves.”
“What?” he asked with disbelief, but Tybo nodded.
“See, this mad scientist developed this stuff way back before Jesus Christ.”
Wyatt stiffened, the first grains of disbelief slipping into his mind, and he said sarcastically, “Right. In Olympus.”
“No. Atlantis,” Tybo responded.