by Shona Husk
“Doctor Liam Shannon is on his way.”
“Is he a witch?” How many witches could she deal with? Could she trust this one? She trusted Oskar, but she didn’t these other people. Her heart beat faster in panic and her grip on the telephone tightened.
“Thomas was the exception to the rule. Most witches are good people. Liam isn’t a witch, though.”
Not a witch, just a person. How many people were witches? Was everyone a witch now? And if he wasn’t a witch, would he be able to help Oskar? At this moment any help would be better than none. She took a couple of breaths. One thing at a time. Fix Oskar first.
“Are you there?” Mason’s voice floated down the line.
“Yes. How long until the doctor arrives?” She tried to sound as though she was keeping it together and could handle anything. No one could see her looking weak and scared or they might take advantage.
“About an hour. Two other witches will arrive soon after. Oskar knows them. You can trust them.”
Could she? She’d thought she could trust Thomas all those years ago. She’d lost one fiancé to a witch, and she didn’t want to lose another. That was when she realized that if Oskar died, part of her would die. She’d lose another piece of her heart. How much could she afford to lose before there was nothing left to beat?
“Thank you.” She hung up fast, her hand shaking.
An hour. Then she realized that there wasn’t a single clock in the house. Or at least, not one she’d ever seen. But that didn’t mean she was going to go looking for one, either. No, she’d check on him, and then wait.
But waiting was so much more painful when her mind was active and full of doubts and fears.
By the time a car’s engine came up the driveway, she’d almost convinced herself that there was no one coming to help and that she’d have to do the ‘home surgery,’ as Oskar had called it. It didn’t sound like anything they should be doing.
She’d been up and down the stairs a half a dozen times to check on Oskar, torn between waiting with him and then terrified she wouldn’t hear the knock on the door and the doctor would go. What if it wasn’t the doctor?
Mylla peeked out the window and watched as a man with dark hair got out of a chunky red car. It was so different to Thomas’s. He grabbed a large silver case out of the back and started toward the stairs, and then he was at the front door. When he knocked, Mylla jumped.
People didn’t come visiting here.
No one was here to tell her to get the door, but the idea of inviting someone in, inviting the outside world in, was scary. She’d been here for so long that she was almost part of the house—or at least it felt that way. One little step at a time. She wiped her hands on Oskar’s T-shirt and opened the door.
The man glanced at her curiously, then gave her a tight smile. “I’m Doctor Shannon, here to see Oskar Quigley.”
Oskar Quigley. That wasn’t the name he’d used when he’d arrived. But of course he wouldn’t have. Thomas would’ve killed him on the spot. But to hear the Quigley name spoken still made her flinch. Even though she knew Oskar was related to Thomas, she still hadn’t expected him to share the name.
She stepped aside to let the doctor in, the way she had always stepped aside when a new gardener had arrived ready to clean and then be sacrificed. But she caught herself from acting the mute servant just in time. She had to break free and stop acting as if she was still trapped. “Come in.” Her voice was soft, and yet it felt good to use it. “He is downstairs in the servants’ quarters.”
The doctor glanced around then followed her, still lugging the silver case. “Is he conscious?”
Was he? He wasn’t sleeping—or not a natural sleep, anyway. “He said to wake him, he is doing something to try and help.”
The doctor gave a single nod. “Probably trying to drop into a trance and slow his heartbeat. They should train more as healers. At least they’d be able to triage their own wounded.”
It took Mylla a few moments to catch up with what the doctor had said. It made her realize she wasn’t used to listening to people talk to her. Or people expecting her to answer. “I’m not sure.”
He placed the case on the floor in the kitchen before going down the hallway.
Oskar was as she’d left him. Flopped back on the bed, his feet still on the floor from where he’d tipped back from sitting. She’d thought about moving him but hadn’t wanted to disturb him. Even from the doorway she could see the sheen of sweat on his skin.
The doctor nudged her forward as if expecting her to wake Oskar. She padded over to the bed and touched his hand. “Oskar, the doctor is here, you need to wake up now.”
His fingers closed around hers as if he were using her to pull himself back to wakefulness. After a few moments that felt like hours, he blinked. He looked hazy, as if he were struggling to focus.
“Hey.” He squeezed her hand.
She forced a smile.
The doctor moved closer and peered down at him. “Let’s hope I’m not too late.” Then he looked at Mylla. “I want him in the kitchen. Can you help?”
She nodded.
“I’m fine.” Oskar started pushing himself up, but the doctor grabbed him and hauled him upright.
“Save your strength. You’ll need it.”
Between the two of them, they got Oskar into the kitchen and lay him on the table. There was no way he’d have been able to walk by himself. Now her hands were slick with his sweat and she was sure that the skin around the edges of the bandage was streaked with an unhealthy red—much like when Thomas was trying to poison him.
“Right, let’s see how bad it is and then talk treatment.”
“I have options?” Oskar’s voice sounded pained, even though he’d tried to make light of the situation. He’d been trying to act as though he was fine. Now that the doctor was here, it was as if he was giving himself permission to let go. His wound was worse than she’d thought. She stood near Oskar, feeling like she should do something, but not knowing what would help.
“Not really. I’m just trying to have a good kitchen table manner.” The doctor smiled but Mylla couldn’t relax.
“How do you know about witches?” Oskar’s words were slower, as if he really had to think about them.
“My grandfather was part of the coven that Mr. Quigley destroyed in the sixties. Don’t get your hopes up for a magical cure. I’m about as talented as a pebble. Eldest child and all. My brother on the other hand…”
“Is he a doctor?”
“No.” The doctor opened his case and snapped on some gloves before undoing the bandage and giving the wound a poke. He made a few grunts, and so did Oskar.
Mylla felt as though she should stand in the corner until they were done. She had to stop being invisible. She had to be a part of this and prove she was more than a silent nobody. She was a person and she needed to help Oskar. The world without him would be a much less friendly place. He was her sun and she couldn’t lose him when she’d only just remembered what it was like to feel warm. “Is there anything I can do?”
The doctor looked at her for a moment. “How are you with blood?”
She’d seen so much of hers spilled over the years, seeing someone else’s wasn’t going to be a problem. “Fine.”
“Great. You get to help hold his arm still. If you faint, I won’t be catching you.”
Mylla moved around the table. She placed her hand on Oskar’s shoulder, partly to reassure him and partly because she needed to be touching him to be sure he was still here and still alive. “What are you going to do?”
“Antibiotics first, then disinfect, then cut off as much dead skin as I can.” He pulled a syringe out of his bag, completely calm as if he did this every day. Maybe he did. “This is a strong dose, as I don’t want you trying to heal and fight infection. Once you’re back in bed I might set up a drip.”
“No hospital?”
“You have a necrotic gunshot wound. That might raise some awkward questions, and I’
m guessing you don’t want the police to come out here yet.”
Mylla tried not to think about the dead body upstairs. “What about the pain?” Having skin cut off would hurt. The pain from all the cuts Thomas had given her made her arms sting in sympathy.
“I got something for that, too, but it’s only mild, as I’d rather have him awake.” Liam jabbed Oskar and emptied the syringe.
Oskar grunted. “Still here, don’t talk over me.”
“I’m going to give you a light sedative. You might want to do what you do to distance yourself as it’s still going to hurt. Once I put the maggots on to clean up, you can come back.”
If she hadn’t had her hand on Oskar’s shoulder, he might have sat up. “Maggots?”
Liam jabbed him again with what must be the sedative. “They will clean up the bits I miss or I can’t get to. Let’s hope it hasn’t reached the bone, otherwise I’m going to have to wait until your friends get here.”
“I don’t want maggots eating me.”
“Yes you do, because otherwise I will have to carve out a chunk of your arm. This way I will take only what is required. You’ll still have a large scar.”
Oskar’s eyes closed, then flicked open. He looked at Mylla and his mouth opened as if he wanted to speak.
“Please do as he says.” She leaned over and placed a kiss on his slick forehead. His skin burned her lips. “Please don’t die.”
For a moment he just looked at her. “The Morrigu promised I wouldn’t die.” His lips curved in a pale glimmer of a smile, then he closed his eyes.
At first it looked as though he was just resting. Then something changed. His face went slack and his breathing slowed. She drew in a worried breath.
“It’s okay. He’s gone back to his happy place.” He checked his watch. “Sedative will be working in a few minutes.”
“Why both?”
“Because he’d have come back as soon as I started cutting.” Liam started pulling other bits from his bag. Silver dishes with packaged instruments and bagged-up bandages. Bottles of what looked like water. All of it he arranged carefully on a chair near Oskar’s injured arm. “How old is the wound?”
“A day.”
“Never seen one rot so fast.” He shook his head. “Pity my grandfather didn’t succeed.” He sprayed Oskar’s arm, checked his watch again, and then unwrapped a small knife. “I’m going to cut the dead skin off. So if you feel queasy, look away, but keep the pressure on his shoulder to stop him from jerking up.” He looked at her again. “Can you hold him down?”
“I’ll try.”
“Let’s do this.”
Queasy wasn’t the word. After the first cut, she’d turned her back. But every wet splat as the doctor dropped skin into a dish made her stomach bunch high in her throat. Oskar twitched but didn’t wake. Beneath her hand, his skin was hot and wet. He’d need to drink water soon or he’d dehydrate.
She vaguely remembered Thomas punishing her one time by not allowing her to drink. She’d been crawling on the floor silently, begging before he’d let her. But she couldn’t remember what she’d done to deserve it. Probably nothing.
“Okay. I’m done cutting. You did well. I’m just going to pop on the maggots and wrap his arm.”
She wanted to say something, but was worried if she opened her mouth she might throw up. The doctor was almost too calm about the whole thing. She waited a little longer, then glanced over her shoulder. The doctor was applying a loose bandage. There was blood on the table, but she thought that was a good sign, dead skin didn’t bleed, after all.
“What now?”
“Now we get him back, hopefully.”
“Hopefully?”
“Sedative and trances are both risky. Together, more so.”
“You told him to.” How could the doctor have done that, knowing Oskar would be risking his life?
“He couldn’t have stayed awake and I’m not set up for full anesthesia and surgery.” He pulled off his gloves and looked around the kitchen. “I did what I could, the best I could. He’s young and strong. His coven buddies will be able to help him.”
“You know a lot about witches.”
“No, I know the basics. I know enough not to ask too many questions about how the wounds got there and how to treat the basics. If his had been any deeper, he’d have had to risk hospital.”
“Why is that bad?”
“They’d ask questions that he wouldn’t be able to answer, then the police would get involved and things would get messy. Most people don’t believe in witches or anything else they deal with.” He began bundling stuff up. “Does this fireplace work?”
“Yes.” She was sure the bandage was moving. Do not think about what’s under there. But she did. It was hard not to think about.
“See if you can rouse him.”
She brushed her fingers over his forehead, still hot to the touch, and pushed a few stray strands of blond hair off his skin. “Oskar, he’s all done.”
Nothing happened.
But he was still breathing. His chest lifted with each breath. “Oskar, wake up. He’s done.”
She wanted to shake him but knew that wouldn’t make a difference.
The doctor picked up Oskar’s other hand, his fingers wrapping around Oskar’s wrist. “His pulse is strong, just slow.” He placed Oskar’s arm down. “Did you want to have a sleep while I sit with him?”
No, she didn’t want to sleep. She wanted Oskar to wake up. What if something happened while she was sleeping? She didn’t want to sleep by herself when there was a corpse upstairs. No matter what Oskar had said about Thomas being unable to hurt her anymore. The panic began to rise again, beating hard in her chest and making it hard to breathe.
He was waiting for an answer. “If you want to help him, you have to take care of yourself. He’ll need you when he wakes up.”
Take care of herself? She didn’t even know where to begin. That was her problem. It had been too long since she’d been allowed to live on her own, without Thomas thinking and acting for her. Oskar had promised he wouldn’t die. But she wasn’t sure she trusted a Goddess who let Thomas kill and who’d cursed Oskar. “Are you sure he’ll wake up?”
He nodded and took a seat at the kitchen table as if it was perfectly normal to have a man lying unconscious on it. “If not by himself, his friends will be able to wake him.”
That didn’t sound overly positive. And yet the doctor was right. She had to get it together for Oskar. She had to be able to function, and right now even that was a struggle. She bit back the frustration and the fear that if she walked out of the kitchen she might never see Oskar again. “I might have a shower.”
A really quick shower. She was tired, but she didn’t know if she’d be able to sleep in this house ever again. She didn’t even want to be here. Then again, she didn’t know where else she could be. And she wasn’t leaving Oskar, not when even his smile made her believe that everything would be all right. But he wasn’t smiling now. He wasn’t even waking up.
Instead of going upstairs, she used the one downstairs bathroom. A cold, small room. As she washed, she ran her hand over her arms. Her scars were a bumpy mass of thickened skin. With the water running over her head, she let the tears fall that she’d tried to fight last night. She had no idea what she was going to do.
She hated the house, but was too afraid to leave.
She loved Oskar, but was afraid of what he could do. The other night had been terrifying and strange, and she knew she’d seen things she probably shouldn’t have. The flames and the chess set, and being somewhere else. The look in his eyes. She wasn’t even sure he’d been in there. If he was that powerful, could he bind her up the way Thomas had?
What about his coven?
It wasn’t just one witch, but a pile of them.
And if he never woke up?
She began to shake. She didn’t want him to die. She wanted all the things that she’d never been allowed. A life and a chance to be someone, even if
she didn’t know who.
There were too many thoughts. Too many things she was afraid of. She tipped her face to the water and pretended that everything was okay. She’d go back out and he’d be awake. He’d joke about the maggots eating his dead flesh. She’d kiss him, glad that he was alive and getting better. Her heart was breaking from just the thought of losing him. She wanted more time with him.
How could he have defeated Thomas only to succumb to a wound?
It wasn’t fair.
Her hand smoothed across her belly. She hadn’t even gotten up the courage to ask the most important question. Was she now pregnant? And what was she going to do with a baby when she couldn’t even take care of herself? She only knew how to cook and clean. And maybe she wasn’t even good at that without Thomas’s spells. Her breathing became jagged as sobs shook her body.
She’d wanted to be free, and yet it wasn’t tasting as good as she’d expected. It was confusing and it hurt. But hurting had to be better than being numb. She had to believe that. And believe it would only get easier and better.
She dried off and picked up the clean T-shirt. A small black bag fell onto the floor. Cautiously, she opened it up and tipped the contents into her palm.
A silver necklace and a bracelet made of…of bone.
Mylla blinked. She’d seen these before. Oskar had been wearing them as they’d sat on the chess board and the fire had threatened to burn them. How was that possible? Were they magic, should she even be touching them? In her hand they felt cold and empty, as they’d once been powerful but were now simply shells. But they were Oskar’s and they meant something to him. She dressed and opened the door. Voices filtered toward her.
Male voices, and there was more than two.
Chapter 19
One moment it was dark in his mind, the next it was like someone had turned on the lights and he could hear familiar voices. Oskar was slow and heavy as he pulled himself toward waking. Sedative. The doc had given him something and it was making him sluggish. Something cold moved against his arm and the rest of the conversation came back. Maggots were eating him. He blinked and was awake with a snap that jolted his body.