Brishan swayed backwards, trying to settle himself with a supreme effort of will. He stepped up to the bed and caught the hand in his own.
Dane’s hand.
Dane’s face, Dane’s head, so recently shaved of its thick, grey streaked curly hair. A face as dear to him as his own parents’.
Dane’s broken body.
He inhaled deeply, a violent wave of pain whipping his body as his skin connected with Dane’s. Doctor Amra had already begun to clean the wounds around Dane’s head, and a nurse tended to the mangled arm.
“He’ll need to go to hospital, but we’ll do what we can now,” Doctor Amra said to the nurse. “The ambulance will take at least thirty minutes.” He bent to extract a piece of gravel from Dane’s chin.
Brishan knew Dane could not be taken away in the ambulance. It would jeopardise everything his uncle had been working towards.
He closed his eyes and conjured a heavy, white mist, infused with healing spirals, and felt the heat as it radiated through his hands. He concentrated on circling Dane’s body with the mist, glowing now with a pulsating, white light, tendrils of it seeping into the damaged body. He put his hands out in front of him and hovered over Dane’s face, letting the heat escape in a soothing wave over his uncle’s body.
In minutes, the fingers stopped clenching and drooped on the bed, relaxed and still. Doctor Amra paused, his stitching needle inches from Dane’s chin. His brown eyes flicked to Brishan, then down to his calm patient, then back to Brishan again. The doctor stared at Brishan until the nurse tapped him on the arm, urging him to start stitching.
“You will put the drug companies out of business, Valentino,” he said, his rhythmical voice a hoarse whisper.
Brishan ignored the doctor, laying his hand across his uncle’s again. A weak squeeze reassured Brishan that Dane knew he was there, knew he was safe.
Brishan allowed himself a deep breath and lowered his head towards Dane’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut to fight the oncoming tears. Dane’s breath moved slowly, heavily and Brishan knew that despite his best efforts, Dane was in deep pain. But now, at least, it seemed bearable. Time slowed as the medical team worked in silence.
Cosima was on her way. Brishan could feel her coming closer, and so he waited.
Moments later the master healer, dressed in her fortune-teller garb, crashed through the door of the clinic, screaming loudly about pains in her heart and sucking her breath in and out in huge gulps as if it pained her to do so.
Doctor Amra and the nurse looked at each other, eyes wide with alarm. “Brishan, stay here will you, while we go and see what’s wrong?” The doctor ordered, shaking his head as he washed his hands in the small basin.
“Of course.” Brishan inclined his head.
As soon as the curtain closed behind him, Brishan lifted Dane’s head from the bed, slowly helping him to sit. Dane’s one strong hand strained on the mattress to keep balance. Brishan could hear the chaos Cosima created outside and waited patiently for the help he knew would come. He held his uncle upright, murmuring calming chants into the bloodied ear.
“Quickly, Brishan, help me put this on him.” Suddenly his mother was there, inside the curtain, holding a black cloak.
Selina moved the coat gently beneath her sister’s lover, slipping it over his good arm and hanging the other side from his shoulder. She slipped the zombie-like mask attached to the hood over the front of the bruised and battered face. Brishan could hear his father now, adding to the commotion outside as he fussed over Cosima and yelled at the medical team. Selina held up her hand, motioning silence as they stood with Dane in between them, covered now from head to foot, leaning on them heavily.
Brishan heard Selina’s voice as quiet tones: as an echo inside his head. She would be taking Dane from here alone. Brishan was to stay, to continue the ruse. They must not create suspicion. Brishan nodded. Then, he let go of Dane and watched his uncle’s weight transfer to his mother’s small frame. She strained but stayed upright and walked slowly towards the curtain.
Brishan went ahead of her, rushing over to Doctor Amra and his father. Eamon looked up at him, face as red as his hair and green eyes sparking fire. A group of teenagers, one with a swollen, black eye, had gathered around Cosima, staring at the drama unfolding
“What’s the matter, Dad?”
“For heaven’s sake, Brishan,” Doctor Amra shouted. “Take him away and calm him down will you? He’s not doing the woman any favours with all the yelling.” He was pushing Eamon away with one arm and holding Cosima’s arm to take her blood pressure with the other. She lay slumped against a wall, arm over her head, wailing.
From the corner of his eye, Brishan saw Selina slip outside, Dane shuffling slowly at her side. “Dad, just leave, I’ll make sure the doctor takes good care of her.”
Eamon simply shrugged and rushed outside, his eyes tracking Selina’s progress.
Doctor Amra’s mouth fell open. “Surely your healing skills don’t extend to mind control? The man was a raving lunatic before you came out. You show biz types are so…passionate.”
Brishan attempted a laugh and knelt beside Cosima, whose breathing deepened as the wailing and moaning came to a stop. He pretended to offer healing until she sighed, calling out, “It’s a miracle! It’s a miracle!”
On her command, Brishan helped her to her feet and she smiled, her knotted, long grey hair flowing wildly around her head.
“Thank you. I am feeling much better. Indigestion or something I’m sure. Peace be with you,” she said to Doctor Amra. “Help me home, boy.” She turned to Brishan, pushing her arm though his.
“I’ll be back,” Brishan said to the doctor, before leading Cosima towards the door.
They had only just escaped into the dark of night before the Doctor rushed out after them, frantically looking left and right
“He’s gone. The patient…he’s gone.”
Brishan tried to register shock and surprise on his face — not hard considering the night he’d had. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
“He’s not in the bed. How on earth could he have walked out of there on his own? Did he resume consciousness while you were with him?”
“No, if anything I think he was asleep.”
“Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable.”
“Get me home to my bed, will you, boy?” Cosima snapped, tugging on his arm.
“You go, Brishan, I’ll call the police. He can’t have gotten too far. The man needs a hospital.” With that, Doctor Amra turned, mumbling, “Must be in some kind of trouble, that fellow.”
Brishan grabbed Cosima’s hand and they sprinted towards the camp, the cool air rushing through their ears with the speed.
Dane lay, still and quiet, on the bed of Cosima’s van, surrounded by strong smelling potions. Selina and Eamon bent over his motionless form.
“Sit outside, everyone. Give me peace to work.” Cosima threw her hands in the air, shooing them out with her long, curling fingernails.
They left without words, huddling on the stairs in front of the caravan. Worrying and waiting.
“Cosima had a vision of him walking for miles, trying to reach us, but she couldn’t work out where he was coming from. Hours later, while she was doing a reading with a client, she saw him stumble into the clinic, just moments before he actually did.” Eamon looked pale and his voice cracked as he spoke.
“What do you think happened?” Selina turned to her husband.
“My guess is someone caught him trying to smuggle Oriana out.”
“I don’t think so,” Brishan said. “He’d be dead. International prostitution rackets don’t normally leave people alive with their secrets.” He heard a muffled gasp, and turned towards his mother. Her trembling hand covered her mouth and tears trailed over her cheeks.
I’m an idiot.
He put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her into him. “I’m sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh.”
She lifted her face fro
m her hands and looked at him; a lifetime’s sadness poured from her large, chocolate brown eyes. “I just want her back, and if Dane’s here, it means she’s in there all alone.”
“I know.”
“Dane will pull through. I know it. He’s so close to getting her back, he won’t give in now, or ever,” Eamon said, picking at the spiky grass poking through the stairs.
“He’s right, Mum. Infiltrating a racket like that is no easy feat. This setback means nothing. Dane will bring her back.” Or I will.
Footsteps approached and torchlight wove through the trees, landing squarely in Brishan’s eyes.
“Police.” A badge flashed in their faces. Two men in uniform blocked the light from the full moon. “We’re looking for a missing person. Injured severely and a suspected criminal. He could be hiding in one of these vans. Are you just getting home, folks? We need to take a look inside before you go in. He could be dangerous.”
Chapter Eleven
Smoke and Mirrors
The Czech countryside whizzed by the train window, a blur of orange and blue lines. A blur, just like the jumbled thoughts in her mind.
Preston sat beside her, his thumb and pointer finger cupping his chin as he read a business journal. Grace and Edward sat opposite, sorting the daily newspapers into different sections: the social pages for her and the finance news for him.
Claudia picked the skin around her thumbnail until small beads of blood formed. She strained to hear the shouts of ‘čaj’ and ‘pivo’ and ‘kafe’ from the waiters outside. Perhaps a beer would be nice. Not that she’d ever tasted it. She imagined asking Preston to get her one.
But the smiles she’d inspired from Preston at the chateau hadn’t come with them on their journey to Prague. Absently, she rubbed her cheek, fighting memories of that night under the tree. Memories, acutely sharp still, of a chateau picnic. How could she have been so drunk? So drunk that Preston’s kisses had made her breathless and spellbound, leaving her aching for his touch.
Would it have happened anyway, without the wine? Maybe. Too hard to resist. Margaret had been right to worry about his unrelenting charm.
Her fingers pressed into her temples. Oh God, the thought of his hands…down there. If only those hands had been Brishan’s.
Cringing, she remembered the sudden nausea in her stomach, the violent spinning in her head, the stream of vomit in the grass and the look of disgust on Preston’s face. He still made jokes about it, cruel jokes that held enough power to make her cry and feel ashamed.
Why? Dane would have laughed, held her hair back from her face and educated her on the effects of too much alcohol. Brishan…well…she pictured him enfolding her in his arms, healing her, loving her with an amused, emerald gaze. But they hadn’t been there, or here, or anywhere. They were a dream.
Ignore it. She smiled at Preston’s serious face. It was still important that he liked her. If he stopped, he’d leave, like Grace so long ago, like Brishan, like Dane. And it hurt all the same, whatever their reasons.
Just forget. Forget and live in the present. Lenny and Margaret, shedding awkward tears as she’d left for Prague, had warned her of wallowing in the past. Lenny always said that the present was all they had, so chin up and get on with it. Claudia smiled at the thought of the housekeeper and the gardener, her ‘adoptive grandparents’, so they said. Three weeks without them would be a long time.
She tapped her foot. Her eyes darted around the cabin in a way she couldn’t control. She looked at her watch. Fifteen minutes before they reached Prague. Fifteen minutes before she stepped foot in the city for the first time. Fifteen minutes…
Crack.
Claudia gasped and gripped the edge of the seat as her body jolted forward. The deafening wail of metal on metal ripped through her ears and smoke coated the window. The green paddocks they had just passed were gone.
Preston fell off his seat, long legs tangling beneath him. “Fuck.”
“There is no need for such language Preston.” Grace whispered, one hand fluttering over her chest as she looked towards Edward.
“What on earth is wrong with the train driver, braking like that? Preston, come with me, I want to speak with management. Bloody negligent.” Edward jumped to his feet, helping Preston up and pushing him out the door.
Grace hurried to follow. “You stay here, Claudia. Look after the luggage. No doubt every low life at the back of the train will try to take advantage of this situation.”
Claudia nodded, still staring at the smoke billowing outside. It was heavier now and changing from white, to grey to black. There was no sound other than the wind whistling through the window seals and she concentrated on this, unnerved by the oppressive clouds of smoke and silence.
Where are all the people? She slid over to the other side of the seat, peering around the door into the aisle. Empty of life, in both directions. The train moved, almost imperceptibly, from side to side, creaking and groaning, groaning and creaking. Claudia wiped her forehead and slid back to the window. She cupped her hands on the glass to see, but there was only blackness. Her heart thudded, faster and faster and she matched her breathing to it, conscious of the panic edging up from her stomach.
Like a living creature, the train groaned louder and more often, as if it were in deep pain. Claudia closed her eyes and crossed her hands over her chest, trying to calm the thudding. Something was very, very wrong. Every cell in her body knew it. Dane, please come.
No, the gypsies were gone; she would not call for them. They were right to abandon her. Once again, she’d proven she couldn’t look after herself.
She was disgusted by her own weakness.
Why is it so quiet? Surely others from the back of the train want to see what’s happening up front?
She looked towards the corridor again. Not one person walked by.
Claudia glanced at the luggage sitting neatly above the chairs in racks. What a stupid notion from Grace. How would people steal them? Where, after all, would they go? She almost giggled at the thought of strange men running away into the fields with Grace’s giant, Versace suitcases full of clothes. Grace could yell all she wanted.
She would get up and see what was happening. She could not stay a moment longer.
She stepped outside and waited for the door at the end of the aisle to open automatically. She walked into the next carriage. Empty. Completely empty and the door leading to the front of the train remained resolutely closed. She paused, trying to ignore the tingles racing up her spine.
Bang.
She jumped back as the door to her left slammed open hitting the wall. A woman, with wildly matted, red hair, stood in her path. A tiny baby sat on her hip, its fists balled and pushing into its screaming mouth. “Oh, thank God, please, please come in and help me, no one will answer my calls anymore.”
Claudia’s eyes flicked to the emergency intercom phone, dangling from a hook on the wall inside the compartment. A man, his face coated in sweat and deathly pale, lay on his back on the floor.
Her legs itched and she turned to run for help. “I’ll be back as soon as I find help, I promise.” She swallowed hard against her dry throat.
“No! They said not to go out there!”
“Who said not to go out there?” Claudia looked down at her feet, willing them to stay firmly planted.
“The staff, when they called about the crash, they told us all to stay inside the compartments. What’s wrong with you, wandering around a disaster zone? I need help and that damn intercom won’t work anymore. Can’t reach anyone.”
“Oh.” Claudia felt all blood drain from her face. She didn’t even remember seeing a phone in her own compartment…so lost in her thoughts…had she missed the call when she went outside?
“I need help with the baby so I can help my husband. Please.” The red-haired lady stared right into her eyes, one hand reaching out to grab Claudia’s.
Claudia breathed deeply. Think, just think. Surely Grace and Preston were all right, after all,
they hadn’t been in the front of the train when it crashed. Perhaps they’re helping others. Claudia swallowed, painfully, and reached out to take the screaming baby.
“Bless you,” the woman said as she knelt to the ground near her husband.
Claudia bit her bottom lip; she’d never held one. Holding a baby can’t be that hard. Nothing to be scared of. She bounced the baby on her hip and walked round and round the small space. She cupped the back of its soft head and whispered, “shhh,” into a perfectly oval shaped ear. Commercials with smiling mothers and rosy-cheeked children flashed through her mind. Nothing to be scared of here.
“Her name is Jasmine,” the woman said, as she took her husband’s tie off and moved his head into her lap.
Claudia looked down at little Jasmine’s face, watching as the fists slowly uncurled. Her pink mouth rested in a thin line and her blue eyes focused on Claudia’s own. She made a soft sound, a gurgling that made Claudia smile. One chubby hand grasped a strand of Claudia’s hair and the other one tapped her on the mouth. Claudia instinctively kissed the wrinkly fingers.
She dragged her eyes away to look at the man on the ground. He still breathed, but his skin was so white he blended in with the clinically bare floor. “Where’s he hurt?” Claudia looked back at Jasmine, avoiding the woman’s anguished gaze
“I don’t know, exactly. He fell pretty hard when the train stopped. I think he might have hit his head, but I can’t see a bump or anything.” The woman’s voice trembled.
“You should really let me go and find help for you. There might be a first-aid kit on board, at least, or a nurse.” Please let there be someone, out there in the silence.
“No, don’t leave me. Please. I can’t cope with both of them on my own. I need to be able to help him when he wakes up.” Tears dripped down her nose and trickled onto the man’s neck.
Okay, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. Just help them. Claudia knelt on the floor by the man’s feet, carefully cradling the baby on her lap. “Did they give you any information, on the phone I mean, about the crash?”
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