Part 10
The next morning was the one day I didn't have an Ancient Civ class. Ordinarily, I would use this extra block of time to study for classes like Basic Calc or Business Management--topics that were
not my forte, so I needed all the extra exposure I could get--but today, I was in the mood for something else. I walked out to Woodlawn Avenue and hopped a bus to Advent Health.
I made my way down to the hospice wing, but I didn't see Tony's family anywhere. Probably his siblings were back in school--did that mean he hadn't passed away during the night, after all?
Mrs. Rosen walked into the waiting area, from the direction of the cafeteria. She had a huge grin on her face. When she saw me, she gushed, "Oh Priscilla!"
Her bangles clacked together as she threw her arms around me.
I dared not ask the question that stumbled out of my mouth in half-pronounced syllables, "How's Tony?"
Mrs. Rosen kept a tight grip on my arms as she pulled back and exclaimed, "It's a
miracle! Come, see for yourself!" She fairly dragged me back down one hallway and another, to Tony's room.
We passed a hospital orderly wheeling a table full of flowers and balloons that I'd seen in the room last night. She grinned at Mrs. Rosen. "Another load for the car!"
The wiry woman reached out and grasped her shoulder. "Bless you for doing this," she sighed.
"My pleasure!" the orderly nodded.
Inside the room, the curtains were wide open, the sunlight streamed in, and Tony stood--
actually stood--in front of the window seat, gazing out over Lake Michigan.
"Tony!" his mother sang out. "Someone to see you!"
My friend turned, and I almost gaped at the difference. He looked like a whole person now--not the ashen, pale, sickly ghost I'd been seeing for, I suppose, almost a week now. It hit me just then how sick he had really been for as long as I'd known him--I hardly recognized Healthy Tony, because as far as I could remember, Sick Tony was Normal Tony to me.
He walked over to where I stood, rooted to the vinyl floor. "Hey, Pris! Good to see you."
I blinked rapidly, trying to figure out something to say that didn't sound lame or cliche. Behind me, Mrs. Rosen grabbed another armload of flowers and gifts and ducked out of the room.
"H-how?" I stammered.
Dangit, brain... That's no good!
Tony just laughed (it felt so good to hear him laugh without losing breath or triggering a coughing fit!) and shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know much, myself. One minute, I was so worn out that I could hardly keep my eyes open, or keep myself awake... then the next thing I knew, I woke up and the sunrise was coming through a crack in the blinds, and I knew I felt better than I had in a long time!"
It felt so surreal, having my friend
whom I assumed was dying standing next to me talking about how strong he was, and actually feeling the muscles in the arm around me, not fatigued or atrophied in the least!
I shook my head and slid out from under his arm. I sat on the window seat in front of him. I stared at him and his grinning face for a long moment, then said, "But seriously, though--how often does something like this happen to people with your condition? Are you saying you're
recovered? I thought your body wasn't able to restore itself, much less that fast after a near-total collapse! Human Anatomy taught me that much!"
He came and sat next to me with a sigh. "Honestly, when my legs gave out in that lecture hall on campus, I thought I was a goner. I didn't see how anything would fix what I had--I knew my body wouldn't be able to go on like this forever."
I snorted. "Yeah, no kidding! I'm serious, Tony--
what happened? Last night everybody was telling me that the medication wasn't even
doing anything, that this could be your last night on earth, and... now what?" I searched his face. "What have the doctors told you lately about the progression of your disease?" I didn't say it out loud, but my mind wondered if this might be his body's last rally before it all came crashing down.
Tony got a funny smile, like he was about to tell the punchline of an especially hilarious joke. "Lately? Well, let me put it this way," he slid his hands along his knees. "When I woke up choking on that awful tube down my throat, and was fully awake and talking just fine and everything, my medical team ran some tests, took scans of all my organs, blood samples, everything..." he let his voice trail off.
Why was he taking so long?
"And?" I demanded.
Tony gave another little shrug. "Nothing," he said.
My jaw really did drop then. "Nothing?" I echoed. "What about the whole speech you gave, about your blood attacking your organs, and your body's been on the brink of shutting down almost your entire life, and--"
Tony just wagged his head. His face was a little scruffy, but his hair didn't hold the greasy clumpiness of someone who hadn't showered in too many days. In fact, it looked freshly washed.
"I mean
nothing as in
my organs are completely healthy and functional. The doctors couldn't find any trace of the disease in my blood at all."
I just sat there in stunned silence.
The next words out of Tony's mouth made my heart start racing all over again.
"The only thing I can think of that might have made the difference--and, I'm only saying this because it was the only out-of-the-ordinary thing to happen to me between fainting and waking up--is probably the voice I heard talking to me in my dreams... but I'm not sure how that would be connected at all."
Memories of the amulet came swirling back, and I tried to keep my voice light and curious as I replied, "Voice?" Had he heard me say the incantation last night?
"Yeah--not like a voice I knew," he frowned in thought, as I felt a small sense of relief. He reached a hand up to push aside his long bangs. "Like a really deep man's voice, just talking and talking--I thought I could hear myself talking back, but I don't remember anything we said."
His upraised wrist caught my eye. The amulet charm I had made! But this one was on a leather cuff around his wrist--had someone else brought in the same amulet?
I pointed to it. "That looks neat, what is it?"
"This?" he pointed to the bracelet with a grin. "I don't know where it came from--I found it in an envelope among the stuff on my table."
A chill ran down my spine.
No, this was wrong. I never put it on any leather cuff. "Wow, so you just like found it like that, on a leather thong?" He let me take his hand so I could see the stone closer.
So very wrong. It was my wire-wrapping handiwork, all right, but the stone looked completely different: jet black from edge to edge, instead of veined with that orange near-glowing pattern I had so painstakingly reproduced.
"Yeah, just like that," Tony replied, sounding pretty excited about it. "I never considered myself a cuff-wearing guy, but this was just so neat and exotic-looking that I just
had to put it on. The leather feels really nice, and check out this clasp. It's easy to do with one hand." He turned his wrist over and showed me the rotating latch. "See?"
A surge of alarm rose up like a sixth sense inside me. I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that I'd done the wrong thing, taking the stone out of the house. I could only hope I could find a way to reverse what had been done somehow, return it to its normal state before Mom discovered my duplicate.
I wrapped my hands around the cuff as Tony undid the clasp. "Can I see it?" I asked.
Tony let me slide it off. "I guess..." his voice trailed off.
I held the cuff in my hands, thinking about those "healing spirits" I had tried summoning the past couple nights. That mumbo-jumbo stuff wasn't actually
real, was it? Had something in the incantation changed the look of the stone? Did the light of the full moon have any effect?
Tony suddenly leaned on me with his full weight, nearly knocking the cuff out of my hand.
"What the--" I twisted awkwardly and tried to prop him up with both hands. "Tony? What's going on?"
His eyes hung half-shut, and when I pushed up one eyelid, the whites of his eyes were light pink and darkening quickly to red as the blood vessels seemed to swell and burst the more I watched. Dark-red beads formed underneath his nose, and his skin dropped several shades of pink into a sickly purple-green. I could see the branches of his major blood vessels popping out under his skin all over his body.
Had I been dreaming about how healthy he'd been in the last ten minutes?
"Tony! Wake up!
Breathe, Tony!" I couldn't stand the thought of anyone coming in here and finding me with a near-dead patient--who'd been ready to discharge before I arrived!
"Tony!" I looked at the cuff in my hand. He said he felt better with it on, and he hadn't taken it off yet... I slipped the cuff back on his wrist and fumbled around with the ornate clasp until it clicked shut.
Tony's head came up with a series of wet, gurgling coughs, and with one shaky, deep sigh, he sat up straight like he had been before. He blinked and turned to me.
"That was weird," he muttered.
I was watching his eyes for any sign of the redness I'd seen before--but the whites were clear white again. The only indication of what had just happened was a few beads of blood under his nostrils.
He noticed me staring, and frowned self-consciously. "What? Do I have--" he touched the blood, and noticed it on his fingertips. "Oh, gross!" He scrambled for the nearest tissue box and cleaned it up.
When he sat down again, he rubbed the back of his ear. "So... was it just me, or did I have a relapse just now?"
I shook my head. "I don't know--whatever it was, you looked pretty freaky!"
He laughed again, and it was that clear, pure sound that he'd had before. "So what were we doing just before that? Let's see, I was showing you my new bracelet--"
He held it out to me, but I refrained from touching it this time. "Yeah," I said, "and then I undid the clasp to see it closer--"
Or to keep it, I admitted to myself-- "and boom! Down you went."
Tony raised his eyebrows. "Whoa, really? That fast, huh? Well then..." He waved his wrist at me, "I guess I should think twice about taking this off ever again."
"Yeah, I think it's best if you keep it on," I answered, but on the inside, I was already shuffling through a dozen scenarios in which my parents discovered the switch before I got home, or maybe the copy was so good that they didn't even think twice, and I was the one to initiate the confession--in which scenario would they be less inclined to hold it against me? Would they even suspect me if I never said a thing--or would Mom assume it was someone at the museum who made the swap? Did she even know what the amulet did?
My alarm went off on my phone. I glanced at the time. "Yikes!" I bounded to my feet. "Okay, I have to catch the bus in the next ten minutes if I want to make it to my next class in time."
Tony joined me, grabbing my free hand. "Which class is it?"
"Chemistry," I answered. "We're doing lab work today."
"Yeesh," he gave me a wry grin of sympathy, "Patson is no joke when it comes to tardiness. You'd better go!"
Before I left, I threw my arms around him. "I'm glad you're okay, Tony."
He hugged me back. "I am, too."
I waved on my way out the door. "See you around!"
He chuckled. "Yeah, see you on campus!"
I speed-walked out of the hospital and down the block to the bus stop. As I sat in my seat and watched the blocks roll by, I wagged my head. Dude gets a new lease on life, and he wants to go back to
studying? Unbelievable!
I made it through an hour-long lab session, and by the time we finished, I was definitely hungry. The closer I got to the house, though, the harder my heart beat in my chest. It was a cloudy day, but the lack of wind made it a bit warmer and more muggy than a late-winter day usually was. I took my time trudging down the driveway, going over what I would say when I walked in.
"Hi Mom," I muttered to myself. "Um, I need to tell you something. You know that wall of artifacts in the front room? Well, uh, I was really worried about Tony, see, because he had taken a turn for the worse and I heard the medications weren't helping, so I was desperate. I happened upon some research about a few of them..."
No, that wouldn't do. Too much. She would want me to get right to the point.
And what would Dad say if he walked in while I was talking? What if they happened to be sitting together?
"Hey Mom?" I practiced again, approaching the house, "What would you say if somebody told you... I mean, how do you respond to allegations that..."
I stood in front of the door now, my hand resting on the door knob. I hadn't seen their cars parked out front--but maybe Mom pulled into the garage.
"Mom, I was doing some research on the artifacts you have on display in the front room, and I think one of them might have had some kind of magical healing powers in it..."
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
"Mom?" I called. No one answered. Perhaps she was out on the back patio? She liked to sit out on the outdoor couch and read sometimes, rain or shine. I listened closely for any sound of movement at the back of the house, but everything was deathly still. I flipped on light switches on my way through the house, as the gathering clouds made everything that much darker.
I now stood between the kitchen and the living room, from which I could see into Mom's office. No one was home. I decided to try one more time, in case Dad was home with his upstairs office door closed.
"Hello?" I called, my voice booming off the granite countertops and smooth hardwood floors.
A movement flickered in the corner of my eye, and when I turned to focus on it, for a split second I saw a face!
"GYAH!!" I screamed, and a puff of air from somewhere brushed across my face and rattled against the windows--but when I waited and slowly turned to focus on every little shadow and shape around me, I saw no one.
There was something out of place I noticed in my quick scan, though. A torn piece of paper on the countertop. I recognized my Mom's handwriting right away.
Dear Priscilla, she wrote.
We had hoped to deliver this news in person, but it seems that circumstances conspire against us, and your father and I had to meet with some friends this morning. Don't worry--if we're not back by your lunch break, we will probably be able to return by dinnertime. Regardless, Zella has instructions to come and make dinner, and to stay with you until we arrive.
In our absence, it is important for you to know something that your father and I have been hiding for a very long time, since before we knew you.
We are gods, Priscilla. Not in the sense that you might think upon reading that sentence--we are not all-powerful beings capable of destroying the earth and altering time and space. We are both members of a lower pantheon. My name is Auraea, and I am a wind goddess--each time you felt a breeze around you at just the right moment, or random times during the day, those were my sprites checking up on you, and reporting back to me. Your father's true name is Trikymios, a god of sea-storms and waves. That was the reason he loved surfing so much, no matter what the Lake was like--he could harness his own waves, you see.
The two of us met on a cruise in the Atlantic, where we discovered that both of us had at least one thing in common: we were both indentured to a powerful demon, whose name I dare not even mention, in case it would invoke his presence. He is a devious, malevolent entity, and by his trickery both of us were bound in fealty to him, which resulted in our banishment from the aethereal realm, for a time. We were both required to live as mortals until a solution to the indentureship could be found--and in the process, I found a way to trap the demon in a prison stone, which I used my cover employment as an artifact curator to conceal among my personal collection--I beg you, Priscilla, do not under any circumstances touch those artifacts I have on display. I would not want to risk you releasing that demon we have worked so hard to guard against.
A final word about the Daeva-Staite Foundation--they are friends of ours, descendants of our worshippers, committed to preserving the integrity of our whole pantheon until Trikymios and I can return to our rightful places. They were instrumental in bringing you into our lives, and if they are involved with the trip to Fourtouna, you can be sure that our enemies--followers of the demon--will also seek to be involved as well. Perhaps this secondary organization, the one actually making their presence known on the island, is secretly in league with the demon. If he has not already found a way of escape, at least his influence is still very much in effect. They want to find us, and though we have been in hiding for a long time, careful about our identities, I fear that this trip might be nothing more than a ruse to lure us out. It might be better for you not to go at all, to live your life in Chicago, if we do not return. We have made sure you have everything you need, should it come to that. You see, your father and I have reason to believe that the discovery this archaeological team truly seeks is th
The letter stopped mid-sentence, but the sloping, swirling words ran all the way to the torn edge of the paper. Confused, I turned the note over in my hands. Dark splotches lined the bottom, and in a thick, jagged scrawl I read the words HAVE A NICE TRIP. SEE YOU IN FOURTOUNA. There was no missing the way the "ink" dripped down the page in a red streak.
That wasn't ink at all--it was blood.
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