by Joy Demorra
The door slid open, and Nathan found himself staring down into the largest eye he’d ever seen. It blinked up at him. “Ah, you are not the mailman,” it said.
“No,” Nathan replied. Then, feeling it was necessary, added, “Sorry.”
“A pity; I needed kindling. Ah, Vlad! What a pleasure to see you!”
“Allan,” Vlad gently pushed aside the magnifying lens to reveal a round-faced, bearded man with a dark olive complexion and a wide, generous smile. He was wearing a white coat, and his hair stood on end as though he’d been dragged backward through a hedge.
Or struck by lightning.
He beamed up at the vampire. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve just finished tinkering with the latest design—”
“Actually, Allan, I’m not here to talk shop. Can we come inside?”
“Of course! Right this way. Mind the steps. I swear I’ll fix them. One day.”
Nathan stooped down as he stepped over the threshold, following Vlad inside and up a flight of steps that were so worn they were functional as a slide. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from the exterior, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.
The words ‘mad scientist’s laboratory’ flashed over his brain, and Nathan stared in wonderment at the cluttered collection of artifacts and organic matter floating in glass jars that lined the walls. A surgeon’s table dominated the middle of the room. Above it, one of the largest quartz lamps Nathan had ever seen hung suspended from the ceiling. The lamp hummed gently as it glowed, and Nathan swore he could feel it vibrating in his teeth. Although that might also have been the giant glowing purple plasma ball flickering and crackling in the corner. But it was the skeleton hanging on the far wall that finally gave him pause.
“Uh…”
Dr. Allan followed his gaze, then chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry about old Bertie over there. He was a friend, not a patient. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”
Nathan was saved from politely declining when Vlad stepped in. “I’m afraid we don’t have time for social pleasantries, Allan. This is Captain Northland, he’s new to the island. He’s also a werewolf. Captain Northland, this is Dr. Allan.”
“Welcome to Eyrie, Captain Northland, who is also a werewolf.” Dr. Allan replied, reaching out to shake his hand. “Oh dear, been in the wars, old chap?” He nodded sympathetically to the sling around Nathan’s left arm. “Awful business, war. Can’t abide it.”
“That’s why we’re here. I was rather hoping to pick your brain,” Vlad said.
“Which one?” The doctor chuckled and nudged Nathan in the side. “Sorry, just a bit of doctor humor. Couldn’t resist. What’s on your mind?”
Dr. Allan listened intently while Nathan relayed his story for a second time, his amiable expression slowly melting into a frown. “And you say you can’t change at all?” he asked when Nathan was done.
“No.”
“Not even on the full moon?”
Nathan shook his head.
“I’m so sorry; that must be a terrible loss.”
“Thank you.” Nathan realized to his horror that he might be about to cry. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had said that to him. In fact, he couldn’t remember the first either. He cleared his throat gruffly. “It’s fine.”
“You talk about being blinded by headaches, incessant nausea, and being unable to sleep from pain. And you call it fine. That doesn’t sound fine to me, but—” He held his hands up in an expressive shrug. “What do I know? I’m just a physician.”
“The other doctors seemed to think it was fine.”
Dr. Allan’s expression lost some of its amiable good nature. “Yes, well, I’m afraid not everyone at the Academy shares the same radical views I do. Like patient recovery and quality of life. If I had a pound for every—”
“Allan,” Vlad said lightly. “Not the time.”
“Yes, quite right.” Dr. Allan turned his gaze back to Nathan, his expression softening apologetically. “I can’t promise you miracles, Captain Northland. But I can promise you I’ll do my best to help. Shall we start with the basics?” He patted the immaculately clean operating table. “Hop on up, and we’ll take a look at you.”
Nathan stepped hesitantly forward.
“Allow me.” Vlad appeared behind him so suddenly that Nathan jumped, but he allowed himself to be relieved of his jacket, grateful to be free of it.
Dr. Allan patted the table again. “Now, if you feel uncomfortable at any time, just let me know.”
“Okay,” Nathan said, already deeply uncomfortable. His knuckles turned white as he climbed up onto the table, gripping the edge. “You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked when he saw Vlad starting to make his way toward the door.
The vampire paused, his mouth opening and closing. “Well, I just thought… I mean, if you want me here…”
Nathan nodded mutely. He knew it was irrational, but he suddenly didn’t want to be alone, no matter how nice Dr. Allan seemed.
“All right then, I suppose I could assist and take notes…”
Dr. Allan waved him off. “Please don’t. Not unless you’ve improved your hand since last time.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?”
Dr. Allan ignored him and turned dancing eyes up to Nathan. “You’re familiar with the universal anecdote that all doctors have appalling handwriting?” Nathan nodded, already having a feeling where this was going. “I’ll give you three guesses as to where that rumor started.”
“All right, fine.” Vlad folded his arms over his chest before Nathan could respond. It was clear this was old banter, and Nathan was grateful to be included in it. “I’ll just stand here and look pretty, shall I?”
“You do that,” Dr. Allan said. He stooped to test Nathan’s reflexes with a small rubber hammer. “Tell me, has anyone looked inside your ear yet?”
“They looked at it,” Nathan replied.
Dr. Allan pulled out a slender glass rod and screwed a tiny glass funnel to the end. It sparked to life a few moments later with the familiar glow of quartz, then sputtered out and died in his hand. “Oh bother.” He smacked it against his palm, causing the light to flicker. “I need to get a new focusing crystal. I don’t suppose—” Vlad materialized at his side and tapped the crystal rod. A single bolt of lightning no bigger than a hair jumped between his forefinger and the glass, and it flickered back to life. “Much obliged.”
“You’re welcome,” the vampire said, just a touch smugly.
“How are you liking island life?” Dr. Allan asked as he slid the delicate funnel into Nathan’s ear, peering into it.
“It has its appeals.” Nathan’s eyes landed on Vlad again as the vampire leaned in to admire the plasma ball with the same starry-eyed adoration most people reserved for a lover.
“Glad to hear it.” Dr. Allan circled around to Nathan’s front. He flipped the tool around to produce a wooden stick. “Say ‘ah.’ Good. And look up for me.” Nathan glanced up at the ceiling, trying not to blink when the light shone into his eyes. “Were your eyes always blue? Or is that a side effect of the silver?”
Blinking the spots away from his vision, Nathan shook his head. “They’ve always been blue in this shape.”
“But they change to yellow when you shift?”
Nathan nodded. “Used to.”
Dr. Allan made a soft sound of interest. “You know, I’ve only ever read about werewolves with blue eyes. You’re my first. Although if we’re splitting hairs, you’re technically my first live werewolf as well.”
“As opposed to dead ones?” Nathan asked.
Dr. Allan shook his head, chuckling. “No, never worked on any of those either.”
“That’s a relief,” Nathan replied, and then because he never could let anything go, added, “I saw the lightning rod on the roof. And the graves.”
“Yes, I’m sure you did. Don’t worry, they’re empty.” Dr. Allan pressed his stethoscope to the front of Nathan’s ches
t. “Deep breath please, deep as you can.”
“So, what exactly is an alternative life doctor? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks a lot like necromancy.” He eyed the skeleton, Bertie, pointedly.
“Necromancy is forbidden.” Dr. Allan hooked his stethoscope around his neck again and reached for Nathan’s hand. He examined it minutely, repeating the same inspection Vlad had. “A man would have to be a fool to hide a trade like that in plain sight on an island full of vampires.” He pushed down on Nathan’s nails, peering at them closely.
“So, what’s the difference?” Nathan pressed.
Dr. Allan let his hand drop. His smile stayed fixed in place. “A distinct lack of shovel.”
Nathan held his gaze for a moment then snorted, shaking his head. He supposed even the undead needed physicians from time to time. He’d just never thought about it before. “It’s quite the laboratory you’ve got here,” he said, changing the subject.
“Thank you.”
“I hesitate to ask, but what do you use that thing for?” He nodded toward the plasma ball, where Vlad was still playing with it, trailing delicate fingers over the glass and causing the purple-blue arcs to move with his loving caress. He seemed totally unaffected by the tame lightning.
Dr. Allan looked over his shoulder, then shook his head, chuckling. “Oh, that’s not mine. Hardly any of this stuff is. I just let him keep it here.” His eyes flicked to Vlad then back, making it clear who the ‘him’ was. “Now, let’s look at that arm of yours…”
Helping Nathan carefully out of the sling, Dr. Allan did his best to minimize Nathan’s discomfort. The examination couldn’t avoid it fully, however; Nathan winced as the doctor moved his arm this way and that, his light hums providing a counterpoint to Nathan’s flinches and gasps.
“Well… what’s the verdict?” Nathan asked once the exam was done.
“I think we need to operate,” Dr. Allan said in a voice casual enough that he might have been discussing the weather.
An icy-hot wave of nausea washed over Nathan. “What?!” He glanced over to Vlad, who hurried to Nathan’s side.
A worried frown marring his youthful features, Vlad sighed. “You think he’s right, don’t you? You think the bullet is still in there.”
“At least part of it,” Dr. Allan agreed.
“But… but they told me that was impossible,” Nathan said, unsure if he was feeling rage, elation, vindication, or a queasy mixture of all three. “They said it passed straight through—”
“They probably believed that,” Dr. Allan replied, taking Nathan’s hand and pressing down on his fingernails again. “Do you see the graying color here at the nail beds?”
Nathan stared at his nails as though he’d never seen them before. They looked almost blue in places.
“These markings under the nails are consistent with metal poisoning, which is what I suspect prompted Master Vlad to bring you here. You have similar discoloration around your eyes and under your tongue. And that wound is…” He shook his head and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Frankly, I’m appalled they let you go home at all. You ought to be dead, Captain Northland, and I believe if you were human, you would be.”
Still in shock, Nathan stared numbly at him. “So… what’s next? Do I go back to Ingleton?”
“Gods no, man, we want you to live!” Dr. Allan exclaimed. “I wouldn’t trust those antiquated leeches to find their own arses armed with a map of human anatomy. No offense,” he said to Vlad.
Vlad shrugged. “None taken.”
“Fortunately, thanks to my patron, I have the best state-of-the-art equipment here. We can proceed immediately, if you like. Though, I wouldn’t urge waiting. And you’re in luck, we have a narcotics specialist on the island, so you’ll hardly feel a thing.”
Vlad snorted, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I swear, you spend one century in an opium den, and you’re branded for life.” He winked at Nathan.
“How are you feeling about all this?” Dr. Allan asked.
Nathan regarded him, unsure how to answer. “I don’t know.”
“That’s fair. This is a lot to process and… like I said, I can’t promise miracles. But I believe your instincts are correct. I think there’s silver in there.” He nodded at Nathan’s exposed shoulder.
Nathan glared down at the angry mass of knotted scar tissue he’d been walking around with for months. There was some small relief in knowing he was right. But mostly he was just blindingly furious. When he looked up again, it was to find Allan watching him calmly. “Can you get it out?”
“I’m damn well going to try.”
Nathan nodded. “Good enough.”
Vlad glided up beside him, holding a stoppered glass vial under Nathan’s nose while Allan bustled off to prepare. Nathan was about to reach for it when the vampire pulled it away. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”
Nathan thought about it. “Uh, silver?”
“Obviously. Anything else?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Chocolate upsets my stomach sometimes.”
“Unfortunate, but not relevant. Here.” Vlad removed the cork from the vial with a pop and offered it to Nathan.
He took the vial and stared at it. They’d never offered him anything in the field surgeon’s tent for the pain except for rum… Rum and a stick to bite on. It smelled vaguely like poppy and something else Nathan couldn’t name. He took a hesitant sip but winced at the taste. Deciding to throw caution and his taste buds to the wind, he downed it in one gulp.
“There we are, man after my own heart.” Vlad lifted the empty vial from Nathan’s unresisting fingers. “Next time we go drinking, we’ll do shots.”
Nathan snorted with laughter as he shook his head at the vampire’s flippant nature. He was just about to ask when he would start to feel the effects of the concoction when his world began to tip gently sideways.
“Goodness, that was quick.” Dr. Allan’s voice sounded strangely distant as Nathan became aware of firm, cool hands catching him and guiding him gently to the table.
“Yes, I doubled the dose.”
“Vlad!”
“What? Look at the size of him. He’ll be fine…”
And then Nathan’s world turned pleasantly black.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Pain.
World-filling pain.
It felt like a spike was being hammered into his skull. Make that multiple spikes. All of them centered right between his eyes. Searing into his brain.
His mouth was dry too. Dry like sandpaper and coated with the bitter aftertaste of one too many drinks the night before.
“Oh, fuck me.”
“Yes, I’m afraid Master Vlad’s concoctions can affect some people that way,” a strange voice said.
Nathan sat bolt upright in bed. Or more precisely, on the slab.
Wide-eyed, he stared at Dr. Allan, the events of the previous day filtering through the fog in his brain like rays of sunlight piercing through clouds. “Did it work?” he asked as he pulled back the blanket covering him to reveal that his left shoulder had been wrapped in clean bandages. As he gaped at his arm, a steady ache began to radiate out of it while the pain in his head receded. “Did you get all of it?”
“We did,” Dr. Allan replied, shoving a glass of water into Nathan’s hands. “Here, drink this. You need to replenish fluids. You lost more blood than I would have liked, but you don’t look any worse for wear.” He slid one of his magnifying lenses into place over his glasses and peered at Nathan with interest. “In fact, you’re looking positively pink. Remarkable.”
Nathan took a tentative sip of the water, paused, then gulped down the rest.
“Steady on, old chap,” Dr. Allan admonished, taking the empty glass from Nathan’s hand and hurrying to replenish it. “Slow and steady wins the race.”
Nathan didn’t listen. Only pausing to gasp for breath, he guzzled the second glass. He wasn’t sure if Dr. Allan had put something in it, or if water
had always tasted so clear and sweet, but it was suddenly the best thing he had ever put in his mouth. “What time is it?” Nathan asked breathlessly.
Dr. Allan took the once-again empty cup and glanced at the upside-down watch pinned to the front of his coat. “Just past eleven.”
“What?!” Nathan demanded as he swung his legs over the side of the table. He was relieved to find he was still wearing his trousers, even if someone had thoughtfully taken his boots off. “I have to get going.”
“What?” Dr. Allan set down the glass and tried to herd Nathan back onto the slab. “Where?!”
“I have to get to the guardhouse.”
“Absolutely out of the question! You’ve just had major surgery! You need time to recover!”
“Eh,” Nathan shrugged, wincing when the motion pulled at his shoulder. But it wasn’t the dead-weight ache of the last few months. It felt sharper, like the pain of a fresh injury that was already starting to heal. “It’s mostly desk work. I’ll be fine.”
“Captain Northland, I really don’t think you understand!” Dr. Allan exclaimed. Visibly perturbed, the doctor resorted to stealing one of Nathan’s boots, clutching it close to his chest. “You were half-dead when you walked in here yesterday. You need to rest.”
“And thanks to you, I’m feeling much better,” Nathan said. Which was true, he realized. Hopping as he pulled his other boot on while trying to button his shirt up at the same time, he reflected that he still felt sore, like he’d gone ten rounds in the ring, but he also felt better than he had since… Nathan couldn’t remember when.
“And that’s wonderful,” Dr. Allan replied, still playing keep-away with the boot. “But I would be failing in my duty as a physician if I let you leave. Please, Captain Northland!”
“I just want to make sure the place didn’t burn down while I was gone,” Nathan said, finally catching up with the scurrying doctor. “I only just got on top of the paperwork. Please may I have my boot?”
The physician clutched the worn and slightly smelly piece of footwear to his chest like a cherished doll. “No.”