Approaching Night: Book I of Seluna

by Ilana Waters

  Was she taking me to the treatment rooms all along? I didn’t see Catron or anyone else in what must have been the old waiting room. It was as broken-down as the rest of the asylum; paint was peeling off the walls, baseboards were disintegrating, and chairs and tables had legs and seats missing. But the condition of the room wasn’t the worst thing about it.

  The worst thing was how Laura looked in the wheelchair right in front of me.

  Her hands and feet were bound to the chair with leather straps. Her hair was a mess, her dress disheveled. She was doubled over, mumbling and crying. I reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Laura?” I said as gently as I could.

  Laura’s head jerked up and she shrieked. I was so surprised I jumped back. There was no recognition in her big blue eyes, which seemed to stare right past me. They had a filmy, watery quality to them. She continued mumbling, but more angrily this time. Now, her eyes darted back and forth between me and the ground.

  What on heaven and earth did they do to her? The only thing I could think of was that they’d shocked her so many times it destroyed parts of her brain. Or maybe the whole of it, for all I knew.

  Laura would never be able to contact Aunt Mae now. And it was unlikely her aunt could do anything to help if she did. Catron and the rest of those evil bastards have all but killed an innocent person. I turned away, unable to comfort Laura, or even look at her. That was when I saw Rose.

  She was seated in a wheelchair a few feet away, but at least she wasn’t strapped down. Her body was so still, I thought she was sleeping, or unconscious. I rushed over to her.

  “Rose?” I cried. “Rose, wake up!”

  As I drew closer, I saw her eyes were open. But something wasn’t right. Rose seemed catatonic, unmoving. Even odder was the fact that her bangs were hanging over her eyes. Rose hated when hair fell in her face. And though her hands were free, she wasn’t making a move to push it back. With the lightest of touches, I pushed the curls away for her. That was when I saw them. Long, unhealed incisions on either side of her head.

  From a lobotomy.

  I’d read about lobotomies in textbooks. They were surgical procedures that severed nerves in the front of the brain. The surgery was used to decrease or eliminate unwanted behavior in patients—something Catron had always been keen on doing. All the air seemed to rush out of my lungs when I realized Rose wasn’t catatonic. In fact, she wasn’t even breathing.

  Rose was dead.

  I jumped back the same way I had with Laura, this time covering my mouth with both hands. My eyes ran all over Rose, looking for signs of life. But there were none. Gingerly, I lifted the clipboard attached to the side of her wheelchair and read the notes scribbled there.

  “ ‘Uncontrollable obsession with nicotine,’ ” I mouthed. “ ‘All methods to end obsession failed due to patient’s refusal to cooperate with treatment.’ ”

  “ ‘Cooperate with treatment,’ ” I said bitterly. “As in ‘let them torture her,’ most likely. Oh, Rose.” My eyes filled with tears that I willed not to fall. “I always said cigarettes would kill you. But I never dreamed it would be like this.” I realized this was why girls had been “disappearing” from Silver Hill. Most of them were getting killed during—or after—lobotomies.

  I heard Laura whimper, her eyes moving back and forth between Rose and me. How could they have left her alone with a dead body? I hated to think of Rose that way, but essentially, that was what she was now. Then again, why wouldn’t they just leave Laura and Rose here together? It wasn’t as if they ever cared about their mental welfare. I walked back to where Laura sat. I couldn’t leave her, or she might share Rose’s fate. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fists, trying to figure out what to do.

  And to think I tried to convince Rose she was crazy. Now, I could never apologize, never tell her why I’d done it. Both my friends were gone forever. I never even got the chance to say good-bye. I was so lost in thought that Nurse Cutter’s voice came to me like a jolt of electricity.

  “Ah, Seluna. You’re just in time.” She swung open a set of double doors at the end of the waiting room, an orderly on either side of her. “Looks like that dull-witted junior nurse managed to get you ’ere after all. Come with us.” She smiled. “Dr. Catron is acceleratin’ your treatment.”

  I was so startled that I pointed straight at Cutter and the orderlies. I thought I felt a snap at the end of my index finger, like static.

  “What’s she doin’, then, Miz Cutter?” One of the orderlies looked at me with a furrowed brow.

  “I ain’t never seen loonies point like that nowhere, I ain’t,” said the other. “And what was that at the end of ’er finger?”

  So I didn’t imagine it. I glanced down quickly at my hand, but there was nothing unusual about it.

  “Never you mind what she’s doin’!” snapped Cutter. “Lunatics do whatever suits them, no matter what decent folk think. That’s what makes them lunatics. And it’s Nurse Cutter, you bleedin’ idiot. Now, stop dawdlin’; we got a treatment scheduled.”

  This wasn’t good. “Accelerating treatment” was definitely a negative at Silver Hill. Just look what happened to Rose. I had to get out of here—fast. But I couldn’t leave without Laura. I lowered my arm and put my hand on her shoulder. She began to make low moaning noises.

  “What’s going to happen to Laura? Where are the rest of the girls? What did you do to them?” I demanded.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but that junior nurse is takin’ this patient—” Cutter jutted her round chin at Laura—“to ’er parents’ ’ouse. Then that silly woman’ll be on ’er way to ’er new position. The carriage we telegraphed for should be ’ere any minute now to pick them up.”

  So there is a telegraph machine at Silver Hill. Probably in Catron’s office, where I first assumed it was. Little good it did me now.

  “As for the rest of the patients,” Cutter said in a dark voice, “some of them went ’ome. You know that.”

  “What about the ones that didn’t?” I asked. Laura gave a squeal.

  Cutter set her lips in a firm line, and her cheeks bulged slightly. “Now, you listen ’ere. I’ve ’ad quite enough of your cheek. You’re comin’ with us to see Dr. Catron without any more of a fuss.”

  “And what if I don’t want to?”

  It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

  Finally, Cutter spoke—very, very slowly. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll come with us. Right. Now.”

  My eyes darted from orderly to orderly. Both were good-size, burly men. The kind that would be hard to fight off. They kept looking at Cutter, then at me, awaiting instructions. I tried stalling for time. “I just want to know where you’re taking me, and what’s going to happen once we’re there. Asking such things is hardly a crime, is it?”

  Still looking at me, Cutter held her hand in the air and snapped her fingers. Without a word, the two orderlies pulled and pushed me into a straitjacket that seemed to come out of nowhere.

  It’s hard to describe how unsettling it is to be in a straitjacket. There’s just enough give in the sleeves to make you think you can wiggle yourself out. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t. Never before had I felt so powerless. I don’t know if one could say I handled the situation with sangfroid, but whatever it was, it was the sole thing standing between me and panic. Laura, on the other hand, was squealing like a stuck pig.

  Cutter was calm as could be while I grunted and wrestled fruitlessly against my bonds. “That’ll be all for now, gentlemen. Dr. Catron and I thank you for your service.”

  “What’s that, then?” one orderly asked.

  “I said, ‘Thank you for your service,’ ” she repeated, taking me by the arm. “Which, incidentally, is no longer needed at Silver ’ill.”

  “You firin’ us, then, are you?” the other orderly asked, his jaw growing slack.

  “That’s about the gist of it. Be sur
e and collect your things on the way out.” She turned with me towards the double doors.

  “Now, see ’ere—” started the orderly on the left.

  “No, you see.” Cutter turned around, nearly taking my arm off. “I’ve no time for any more shenanigans tonight. I said your services is no longer needed. There ain’t no more duties for you to perform. If I was you, I’d leave ’ere as soon as possible. There should be just enough room on the carriage that’s arrivin’ shortly. Unless you want to speak to Dr. Catron about it, of course.”

  The orderlies looked at one another. Despite the fact that they both seemed much stronger than Catron, one of them swallowed hard, and the other grimaced.

  “Well, do you?” Cutter asked menacingly. “Want to take it up with Catron, that is?”

  “Er, well—” started the one on the left.

  “There’s glowin’ letters of reference tacked to the doors of your rooms. I’m sure you’ll find them very useful in seekin’ new employ.”

  The orderlies looked at each other again, and this time, it was the one on the right who spoke.

  “Thank you kindly, Nurse Cutter. Best of luck to you, then.” He nodded to the other man.

  “Ah, yes. Best of luck, ma’am.” They tipped their caps to Cutter and walked quickly down the other end of the hall. They didn’t give me so much as a second glance.

  “Well, thank goodness that’s done,” Cutter said under her breath. “Them was the last two orderlies. Now it’s just me and Dr. Catron, the way it should be. Two true professionals workin’ together.” She smiled and turned both of us towards the double doors again.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Cutter was in love with Catron. The very thought was nauseating. But what she said also meant I was alone with them at Silver Hill.

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying that you, Dr. Catron, and I are the only ones left in this asylum?” I asked.

  “That’s what I said, ain’t it?” Cutter snapped. “’Onestly, it’s no wonder you girls end up in the predicaments you do. Ain’t even got the decency to listen.”

  “I was under the impression you were muttering to yourself.”

  Cutter spun me around by the shoulders and slapped me across the face. I was so surprised, I couldn’t think of anything to say. My cheek was burning, but of course, the straitjacket prevented me from putting my hand to it.

  “That’s enough!” Cutter’s voice seethed with rage. “You just wait till Dr. Catron gets ’old of you. ’E knows what to do with impertinent little wretches.” She grabbed me roughly by the elbow, opened the doors, and dragged me down the hall. Laura’s squeals died down until I couldn’t hear them anymore. “Oh, yes,” she said, smiling again. “If you ain’t the one we’re lookin’ for, I don’t know who is.”

  I tried pulling in the opposite direction, leaning all of my weight against the force of Cutter’s arm. But she was too strong for me. She shoved me through the door of an operating theater, where Dr. Catron was waiting.

  His back was to Cutter and me as we entered the room, but he turned around slowly when he heard us come in. He had a cap on and a surgical mask over his face, but I could still tell it was him. Plastic gloves covered both his hands, and one of them held a scalpel. His usually spotless white lab coat had a number of dark red blotches on it. My stomach turned over.

  “Se-lu-na,” he said when he spotted me. I couldn’t see his mouth beneath the mask, but I could tell by his voice he was smiling. “How nice to see you again.”

  “Wish I could say the same,” I retorted, still struggling. Cutter slapped me across the face again. If I ever get my hands on that bitch, I thought, I’m going to pound her senseless.

  “Now, now, Nurse Cutter,” Catron chided, “there’s no reason to exert yourself. We’ll need all our strength and concentration for the procedure.”

  “Of course, Doctor,” Cutter said. “Shall we strap ’er down now?”

  “Yes, it’s time.” Catron put the scalpel down and turned up the gas lamp above him. They took me out of the straitjacket and put my hands and feet in leather cuffs attached to a freezing-cold operating table. A larger strap was tightened across my waist, and the last went over my brow so that I could barely move my head. I tore and kicked and even tried to bite, but it was no use. Cutter was an immovable mountain of a woman, and Catron was surprisingly powerful as well. They tilted the table up so that I lay at a forty-five-degree angle.

  There was no doubt in my mind now. The final procedure—the acceleration of treatment—was definitely a lobotomy.

  I struggled against the straps as they cut into me, mainly along my wrists. I could feel my skin tearing and bleeding, but I didn’t care. All I could think of was the drip, drip, dripping sound of an IV, the smell of isopropanol. The only light came from the flickering gas lamp, and the moon shining through a high, barred window above us.

  I twisted my head to one side, but just barely. On a metal tray, I saw several different-size scalpels and a small hammer. There was also something that looked like an ice pick, and a saw. I felt my stomach drop out from under me. I didn’t even want to think about what the saw was for. There were also a few tools I didn’t recognize at all.

  Cutter donned a surgical mask and gloves as well, pulling the latter over her hands and releasing them with a snap. She tied a cap similar to Catron’s around her head. Before I knew it, both villains were leaning over me. Catron picked his scalpel up again and sighed.

  “I do hope these are better than the last ones.” He looked at the slim piece of metal in his hand.

  Cutter made a clucking noise with her tongue. “No one is committed to quality these days, is they, Dr. Catron?”

  “Only us, I’m afraid,” he replied.

  “Oh, of course, Doctor. I wasn’t referrin’ to you. I know ’ow seriously you take your work.” There was a strong note of admiration in Cutter’s voice that made me want to be sick.

  “Yes, it’s good to be hardworking when you’re a pair of raging sociopaths,” I said. At least they didn’t muzzle me.

  “Se-lu-na,” Catron drawled in his patronizing way. “Is this really the time for insults? I wouldn’t say our behavior is deviant.” He used the scalpel to indicate himself and Cutter. “You’re the one with the abnormalities.”

  “Oh, really? How do you figure?”

  “We’ve been observing you,” Catron replied. “Your refusal to conform. Breaking and entering. That clandestine meeting with Francine.” My eyes widened. “You didn’t think we knew about that?”

  “How on earth did you—”

  “Never mind how,” Catron said. “What matters is that we know. And that our little Francine problem has been taken care of.”

  I struggled uselessly against my bonds. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” I yelled.

  “Now, now, calm yourself, Se-lu-na.” He leaned over the tool tray and began sharpening the scalpel on some sort of miniature grinding machine. “This will all be over before you know it.”

  “Serves ’er right, the little blighter,” Cutter snorted. “A deviant of the worst sort, and a bloody stupid one, too. As if a simple sleep charm would get through the protections this man ’as on him.”

  “Protections?” I repeated. Catron was almost done sharpening the scalpel.

  “Of course ’e’s got protections!” Cutter all but threw up her arms. “One don’t have a psychic foretell ’orrid things and not demand a protection spell right after the tellin’.”

  So that’s why the sleep spell didn’t work. But maybe it means it will work on Dym. Unless, of course, he uses protection spells, too.

  “How did you know I cast that—” I started.

  “Well, who else could it ’ave been if the magic came from the garret? Besides, the protected always feel somethin’ bouncin’ off them when someone tries a spell.” Cutter rolled her eyes.

  “Of course, they don’t work against everything, I’m sorry to say.” Catron finished
sharpening the scalpel and turned to me again.

  “Like this Event you’re so afraid of?”

  Catron looked taken aback. Ah, so you’re not inside my brain yet, are you? I thought. Don’t know everything I know, do you? But he quickly regained his composure.

  “Protection spells work well enough against the small minds of pests.” He raised the scalpel above my forehead. “We’ll see if that’s what we have here.”

  I swallowed hard. “Don’t doctors usually anesthetize patients undergoing these types of procedures?” Of course, the last thing I wanted was to be anesthetized. I’d need all my faculties to get out of this mess—if I could get out of it. But I also needed to stall for time.

  “We feel it’s important for patients to participate in the treatment process,” Catron said sweetly. “Otherwise, how will they grasp the full benefit? How will we know if the treatment is effective?”

  “Or if you find what you’re looking for,” I said.

  “That, too,” said Catron. Again, I could tell he was smiling. “But your thoughts on the subject are of little consequence. Your resistance is simply more evidence of your madness.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I said through gritted teeth. “You want to experiment on me—essentially torture me to death—and I’m mad for trying to stop you?”

  “Something like that,” Catron replied absentmindedly. His attention was on the flickering gas lamp. “But it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that I can avoid the disastrous Event that would have laid waste to our plans.”

  Our plans? Does he mean his and Cutter’s plans? The woman doesn’t seem capable of planning so much as a birthday party without his help.

  “Soon—very soon—I shall discover the one thing that lies between me and greatness.” Now, his eyes were piercing mine. “And I shall destroy her.” Cutter let out a girlish, almost hysterical giggle.

  My sangfroid was disappearing fast. My heart beat wildly, and I had to control my breath so it didn’t come out in gasps. But I vowed not to let any sign of emotion cross my face. I would be like a girl in a book I once read. She was a princess who’d lost her father and fallen victim to an evil boarding-school headmistress. The headmistress always wanted to see her beaten, broken. But the princess never gave her the satisfaction. She pretended to be a brave solider instead.