The Aperture

Chapter 8

Recovery Discoveries

Alyndia awoke when the first yellow rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon. Still tethered to the I.V. taped to her arm, she quietly climbed out of the hospital bed and stood at the window. She gasped in wonderment at the yellow light that filled the blue sky. The sunlight glinted off the snow that covered the ground in warm, sepia rays. The deep blue and cheerful yellow was like nothing else she had seen before.

The city below appeared unusual to her eyes. Unlike the spired buildings of Roggentine, the buildings here were squat and rectangular, and their windows were square. In the street below, she saw a multitude of hanyak-less carriages. Comparatively, few people traveled on foot.

A nurse walked into the room. What are you doing out of bed?” she asked.

Alyndia turned to see a nurse standing at the doorway. She was a short, busty woman with freckles and bright red hair that covered her ears. She held a tray with what looked like food.

“I wanted to see the sunrise,” Alyndia said.

The nurse set the tray down by the bed and joined her at the window. “Yes, it does look nice today,” she said cheerfully. “It’s the first clear day we’ve had in weeks. But you really should be in bed until the doctor has had a look at you.”

“A doctor?” she asked, unsure of the meaning. “You mean, a healer?”

The nurse smiled at her unintended pun. “We like to think we’re healers. Now back in the bed with you. I don’t want to be responsible for you if you fall down.” The nurse gently guided Alyndia back into bed and rearranged the blanket for her.

“Where is Mrs. Layton?” Alyndia asked.

“You mean, Annelise Layton? The comatose patient?”

“Yes. One of the other nurses said she was here. I’d like to see her. Could you take me to her?”

“I’m afraid I can’t. She was moved to Mercy Hospital a few days after the incident.”

“She was?”

“Uh-huh. Apparently, there was some political fallout here in the management over what happened to you. Someone thought it best to move her there.”

“Oh. I really wanted to see her.”

“You can see her after you get out. Mercy’s only a fifteen-minute drive from here.”

Alyndia touched the bandage covering the burn on her left wrist. “What about the bracelet? Did you find a bracelet? An iridium bracelet?”

“There was a bracelet, but some CIA people took it away.”

At those words, Alyndia slumped back into the pillow. The nurse used the electric control for the bed to sit her up so that she could eat her breakfast. The humming and movement of the bed startled her momentarily. The nurse pulled out an electronic sphygmomanometer and attached the cuff to Alyndia’s upper arm. She watched the nurse with quiet bemusement.

“Why do you all keep doing this?”

“We’re supposed to do it. Don’t you like having your blood pressure taken?

“I can’t say I mind it—I just don’t understand the point of it. I mean, is this device supposed to aid me in some way?”

“Well, it’s standard procedure to measure your blood pressure every four hours. Just because we do it doesn’t mean there’s a problem. We do it to all the patients, regardless of why they’re here. But if you have any specific concerns about your blood pressure, you should ask your doctor. In fact, I saw him in the hallway a little while ago. He’s making his rounds and should be here shortly. Now sit still.”

The nurse pressed the button on a gray box connected to the cuff. The box began to hum, and the band on her upper arm puffed up and squeezed her arm.

“Is that your boyfriend who keeps coming to visit you?” the nurse asked, watching the changing numerals on the gray box.

“I don’t know,” she replied without thinking.

The nurse glanced up at her. “You mean, you don’t know who he is, or you just don’t know about the relationship?”

Alyndia wasn’t sure how to respond. “Will and I have a complex relationship. It’s difficult to describe.”

“Oh,” the nurse said, returning her attention to the gray box. “Well, he thinks a lot of you. He was here the whole time you were out.”

“That’s good to know,” she said, shifting in the bed uncomfortably.

The sphygmomanometer beeped once.

“Congratulations. You have the blood pressure of an astronaut,” the nurse said as she removed the cuff from Alyndia’s arm. “You must be in good shape.”

“Certainly not because of that device you’re using on me,” she said, massaging her arm.

“Very funny. Maybe it’s time for you to have you breakfast, now Here. Let me help you.”

The nurse rolled the breakfast tray over to Alyndia’s bed and her over her hips. Though Alyndia was ravenously hungry, her mind was consumed with questions on how she came to reside in this stranger’s body instead of Elise Layton’s. She wanted to ask the nurse some specific questions to get more information on her situation, but she remembered Gerald’s words that magic and spiritualism were not commonplace in his world. This nurse would be of little help in that regard. She needed to find Gerald.

“I would like to speak with Gerald Layton, Annelise Layton’s husband. How may I do this?”

“I can’t give you personal information on our patients, Hon. But I figure you must have his contact information since you were visiting his wife here at the hospital.”

“Yes. Of course you’re right.”

Alyndia had already surmised that the hospital staff would be of no help to her, and the sooner she left the hospital, the sooner she could start looking for Gerald. But she couldn’t just walk out wearing nothing but the flimsy, blue gown they’d dressed her in. She reasoned that Connie had been wearing street clothing when she came to the hospital, and so the clothing she wore must be somewhere close by.

“Is there anything you need before I go?” the nurse asked.

“Yes. Where are my possessions?”

“In the closet. Would you like me to get something for you?”

“Possibly, but first tell me what is there.”

The nurse walked over to the freestanding closet and opened it. Inside were a deep gray woman’s business suit, a heavy black overcoat, and a pair of low black heels. On the top shelf was a set of underclothes and a small leather purse. The nurse brought the purse to Alyndia. “I assume you want this.”

Alyndia opened the purse. It was full of strange objects and scraps of paper. One by one, she began removing the contents and setting them on the tray in front of her. She did not know what she was looking for, but she looked just the same in case anything caught her eye.

The nurse watched her for a while, then she turned to exit the room. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to get the tray. Press the button there by the bed if you need anything.”

Alyndia found two items of interest in the purse. A black leather billfold, and a small, black leather-bound book called a “daytimer.” She opened the billfold. Inside she found many small documents printed on a strange flexible material she’d never seen before. She found she was able to read all the documents. The most prevalent document was a CIA badge. The other was a New Jersey driver’s license. This tiny card provided a wealth of information along with a small, blurry picture. Her name was Connie Louise Bain. She saw a small, blurry picture of herself. Birth date: July 16; height: 5’7”; weight: 131; hazel eyes; red hair. Does not need vision correction. Motorcycle endorsement. Organ donor. Then there was an address.

Alyndia stared at the blurry picture of her new body on the card. The woman’s expression appeared gravely serious, unsmiling, almost tragic. She brought her hands to her face and felt its features. She pulled her hair around her head so that she could see it. The hair was the same color, although the hair now looked more brown than the red in the picture.

She saw another picture on the CIA card. In this picture, the hair color was more accurate.

She was about to open the daytimer when a dark-skinned, mustached man in a white coat entered the room. He smiled broadly when he saw here.

“Connie Bain!” the man said. “I heard you were awake. I came right up when I heard the news.”

“Should I know you?” Alyndia asked.

“Well, probably only in name,” the man said, smiling slightly. He held out his hand to her. A habit took over, and she shook his hand. To do this felt natural to her.

“I’m Dr. Kasabian. I’m the doctor assigned to you.”

He opened the metal clipboard and scanned the documents it contained. It appeared to Alyndia to be the same clipboard the doctor had the night before.

“You’ve been in dreamland for a few days. And you got a nasty bump on your head. And your wrist is burned. I have to ask you: How do you feel?”

“A little disoriented,” she answered.

“That doesn’t surprise me after what you’ve gone through.”

Dr. Kasabian performed a round of tests on Alyndia, tests more elaborate and thorough than those of the doctor in attendance earlier in the morning. “It appears your motor control and sensory facilities are intact,” he concluded. “You should consider yourself a lucky woman. We feared that you suffered brain damage.”

“From what?”

“We’re not sure. It could have been a lack of oxygen caused by a lack of circulation. But that is another matter too.” Dr. Kasabian brought his fingers to his dark mustache. “You are a woman in excellent shape, in the prime of life. You haven’t a history of heart problems. Then there is that matter of the burn on your wrist. We aren’t sure why that happened,” he added, stroking his mustache. “My guess is that a nerve toxin somehow entered your system through that burn on your wrist. This is supported by the high levels of chlorine compounds we found in your blood shortly after we revived you. The nurse who found you on the floor of the room said she smelled chlorine in the area.” Dr. Kasabian unfolded a pair of glasses from his pocket and put them on. He opened the clipboard and flipped through a few notes. “It says here you came to put a piece of jewelry on Annelise Layton. A bracelet, was it?”

“Yes!” Alyndia said. “An iridium bracelet. A family heirloom.”

“It seems that you put the bracelet on yourself instead of Annelise Layton.”

“She did? I mean—I did?”

The doctor nodded slowly.

“Yes, and that’s when it happened to you. After you put the bracelet on, you passed out and went into cardiac arrest. Fortunately, you made a racket when you fell. That’s why the nurse found you when she did.”

“And what about Mrs. Layton. Was she harmed?”

“No, but strangely, her life-support equipment stopped working at the time you fell. It was some sort of weird electrical malfunction. Fortunately, we were able to reset and restart the equipment before we lost her.”

Alyndia thrust her head back into the pillow. “I’m so sorry, Gerald,” she said sullenly, looking up at the ceiling.

“Excuse me—are you referring to Professor Gerald Layton?”

Alyndia nodded.

“Why do you feel you owe him an apology? Your CIA friends and the local police think he did this to you intentionally. I would have expected you to feel the same way, you being one of them and all.”

Alyndia sat up. “What do you mean he did it intentionally?”

“They think he poisoned the bracelet and intended to kill his wife with it, maybe for an insurance payout. But you put it on yourself before he could put it on her.”

“He would never poison his wife. I’m sure of that.”

Dr. Kasabian removed his glasses and surveyed Alyndia with a puzzled look. “Ms. Bain, pardon me for asking this, but weren’t you investigating him for terrorism or something to that effect before all of this happened?”

“No—I mean—yes, but I know he loved his wife.”

“I see. And how do you know that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Tell me: Where is Gerald now?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not the one to ask. Maybe your partner would know more.”

“Fine.” She pushed aside the food tray, pulled the thin hospital blanket away from her body, and slipped off the bed.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

“I have to find Gerald.”

“Not so fast. We have some tests we need to do on you before you leave.”

“I don’t want to participate in your tests. I want to see Gerald.” Alyndia was momentarily stunned at how well Connie’s voice projected anger. She wanted to move away from the bed toward the closet that held her clothes but found herself still tethered to the I.V. lines. “Take this thing off of me.”

“Please, Ms. Bain. Just wait a while. I can’t make you stay, but you really ought to let us check you over.”

Alyndia began tearing at the tape on her arm that held the I.V. when a well-dressed and clean-shaven Will MacGregor appeared at the doorway. He stood there, surveying the situation, instinctively sensing that something was up.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

Dr. Kasabian turned to him. “Hi, Mr. MacGregor. Ms. Bain wants to leave the hospital, but I told her she must stay so that we can run some tests on her.”

“Well, that’s too bad for you, because I came here to take her home.”

Alyndia stopped fussing with the I.V. lines when MacGregor said that. She looked up at him and noticed that he was staring at her chest region. She realized at that instant that the open end of the hospital gown had somehow turned around, and now her left breast brazenly poked through in plain view of both men. She quickly covered it in a show of modesty.

“How do you feel, babe?” MacGregor asked her from the doorway.

“I feel fine, Will,” she replied. “I want to leave.”

MacGregor addressed the doctor. “I’ve pretty much had enough of this place myself. I say if she feels fine, you should let her go.”

“You don’t understand,” Dr. Kasabian said. “This woman has just woken up from a coma. She might have a latent brain injury. We need to run some tests on her to ascertain she’s all right.”

“What do you think, Connie?” MacGregor asked her. “Do you wanna stay or you wanna go?”

“I already told you. I want to leave,” she answered, her words directed more to Dr. Kasabian than MacGregor.

“I must advise you, Ms. Bain, that the hospital—” the Dr. Kasabian began, but MacGregor cut him off.

“Doctor, your patient has spoken. Now I think you and me ought to leave the room so Connie can get dressed in privacy.”

As MacGregor led Alyndia through the hospital corridors, to the lobby, and to the outside world, her eyes and ears were immersed in a baffling cacophony of sounds and sight. Professor Layton was right when he said that this society had a mechanical device that took the place of every conceivable spell, and then some. At a desk, she saw a woman speaking into a beige handset. Another stared into a box that glowed on one side while sequentially pressing tiles on a panel on the desk before her. Periodically, a disembodied voice filled the hall occasionally. The voice was loud. At first, she thought the voice was speaking directly to her, then she pinpointed the origin of this voice to circular grilles set into the ceiling. In the lobby of the hospital, a man in a black uniform spoke into a small gray box he held in his hand. The box spoke back to him. The name for this box came to her from the mysterious lexicon in her mind. The man in black held a hand-held transceiver or walkie-talkie. Although she knew the names of most of the objects she saw, their exact uses and how they worked escaped her entirely.

The outer glass doors of the hospital lobby slid open, and they were immediately assaulted by the frigid New Jersey air. The light from the sun, weak and distant, fell upon the ground covered by patches of dirty snow. Alyndia quickly realized her jacket wasn’t thick enough for protection from the cold and wished she could cast the fire spell of Warmth on herself. She hoped they would not be walking a great distance in the cold.

MacGregor wrapped his arm around hers as they stepped from the curb to cross the street to get to the parking lot. “Watch out for ice.”

Alyndia could not help but notice the preponderance of hanyak-less carriages (called automobiles) that came in every conceivable color. Alyndia wondered if these carriages were in some way, living creatures, for they emanated growling noises as they passed, and each had two silvery eyes in front of it to guide it along the road while passengers sat unmoving inside its belly.

MacGregor located his automobile inside the parking lot. His automobile was black. It was wedged-shaped and sat very close to the ground. He opened the door for Alyndia and walked around the other side. Imitating what she had observed in the lobby of the hospital, she got inside. MacGregor unlocked his side of the door and sat in the seat next to hers. He placed a key in the ignition, turned it, and the automobile woke up with a growl.

He turned to her after a moment. “Are you in?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Well, then close the door so that we can go.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling foolish. She reached out to the handle of the door and pulled it shut. It closed with a solid sound. Now they were inside the belly of the automobile. But now it seemed more like a womb. Warm air blew from slots in the dash. She placed her cold hands in front of one of the slots to warm them.

“Car’s still warm,” he said.

Her eyes fell across the dazzling array of blinking lights, levers, and buttons on the dash console. She had no idea what any of them did.

“Music?” he asked, noticing her eyes scanning the dash.

MacGregor pressed something there. Without warning, the womb filled with raucous, alien-sounding music. Alarmed by its sudden appearance, she quickly looked around to find the origin of the music. She could not, for it was all around her. She felt acutely frightened.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“That music—what is it?”

“It’s The Clash, baby.”

“That what?”

“The Clash.”

“What is that?”

“Come on! It’s your favorite group.”

“No, no. Please make it stop!”

“All right, suit yourself,” he said. He hit the button on the dash. The music stopped instantly. “Is that better?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling better with the silence.

“No problem. I forgot that you might still have a headache. So where do you want to go? I noticed you didn’t eat that hospital food. Can’t say I blame you. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” she said.

“What do you feel like? Breakfast? A burger?”

“I don’t care,” she replied absently. Her thoughts returned to finding Professor Layton. She hoped they had not put him in a dungeon.

“You don’t care? That’s not like you—you usually have a strong opinion in the matter.”

“Honest, Will. Wherever we eat is fine.”

“You sure?”

She nodded.

He grinned mischievously. “How about McDonald’s, then?”

“Yes, yes, McDonald’s is fine.”

“Really?” MacGregor’s grin broke into a smile. “You must really be hungry if you’ll agree to go with me there. You don’t normally like McDonald's. But MacDonald’s it is.” He backed out of the parking space and sped out of the parking lot.

They went through the drive-through at McDonald's. Alyndia was undecided in what she wanted, so he took it upon himself to order her a Big Mac, fries, and a medium orange soda. After they got their food, they sat in the parking lot with the engine running to keep the heater warm.

“Here’s yours,” MacGregor said as he handed her something soft wrapped in yellow parchment. Big Mac read the inscription. He handed her a decorated, covered waxen cup with a white top and multicolored straw sticking out the top. “And here’s your drink. I’ll leave your fries in the bag so that they’ll stay warm.”

She put the drink in a holder affixed to the door of the car that seemed designed for the cup. Cautiously, she unwrapped the parchment on her lap to reveal three slices of salabine seed bread sandwiching some other ingredients. She lifted the upper slice of bread to examine what lay beneath. The ingredients of the “Big Mac” looked unfamiliar to her except for the ground meat. None of it looked appetizing.

“Are you going to eat it or play with it?” MacGregor asked her with his mouth full. He had already finished half of the first three burgers they’d ordered.

Feeling hungry and more than a little self-conscious, she lifted the sandwich to her mouth and took a bite. To her surprise, though the flavor of the meat sandwich was like nothing else she’d ever tasted, it pleased her taste buds. She took another bite, then another. Then she washed it down with the sweet, orange liquid called a soda. This, too, was sumptuous, and it bubbled on her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She wondered what concoction made the orange soda do this. Jalban would most certainly be interested in what sort of herb created this effect. She took another bite of the Big Mac, and then she helped herself to some fries. All of it was superb fare. She wondered why Connie didn’t like to eat there.

MacGregor watched her eat. “So what do you think?”

“These are delicious,” she said as she studied the messy, half-eaten burger in her hands. She took another bite and savored the flavor on her tongue. But now her thoughts returned to Gerald Layton again. She finished the burger and washed it down with the orange soda.

“Where is Gerald Layton?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the thin, paper napkin.

A grin flashed on MacGregor’s face. “We arrested him this morning.”

“Because of what he did to me?”

“Of course,” MacGregor replied as he opened the wrapper on his third sandwich. “It’s the least we could do.”

“You have to release him,” she said.

“Why should we? Unless, that is, you personally want to kick his ass in a place where we won’t be disturbed.”

“Maybe he didn’t intend to do this.”

“Connie, I can’t believe you just said that. The guy is a fruitcake. He’s unbalanced. You heard it firsthand when you interrogated him. A guy like him is capable of anything.” MacGregor took a bite from the sandwich and continued speaking with his mouth full. “Besides, he still might have something to do with his son in the Middle East. We can still hold him on probable cause.”

“He hasn’t heard from his son in years. For all he knows, his son may be dead. This troubles him to no end.”

MacGregor stopped chewing on the sandwich and frowned at Alyndia. “Are you going soft on me or something? You and I have worked on this case for weeks. We had every reason to intervene when we did. Don’t you remember it was your idea? I think we just happened to walk in on him when he plotted to snuff out his wife. That’s when he concocted that story of the sorceress he met in the other dimension.”

“What makes you believe he wanted to slay his wife?”

“You don’t know this, Connie, but after she died, we found out he has in effect an insurance policy on her with a payout of two million dollars.”

“So he would get this money when she dies?”

“Correct.”

Alyndia did not know what this meant, but it definitely warranted investigation. “I want to see him to interrogate him on this,” she stated using Connie’s words.

“You’ll get your chance. We can hold him for at least forty-eight hours. He won’t be going anywhere during that time.”

Then, as though something had come to mind, MacGregor suddenly put down the remainder of the burger and wrapped it up. Alyndia sensed that something was wrong. He turned to her in the car seat and stared into her eyes. To her surprise, he took her hand and held it firmly in his.

He took a deep breath. “By the way, there was something I want to tell you,” he said in a grave tone.

“Yes?” she replied, having no idea what it might be.

“I didn’t volunteer to say anything to you, but the chief thought that it would be better if I broke the news to you, with me being your partner and all.” MacGregor shifted his seat to face her more fully, despite the fact the steering wheel of the car blocked him from doing so comfortably. He continued, “While you were out, we contacted your family in Wisconsin in case you—well—in case you never woke up. Now before you say anything, I want you to know it was not my idea to contact them. So please don’t be angry with me.”

“I won’t be angry with you,” Alyndia replied softly. “Go on.”

“So, yesterday, out of the blue, I got a voicemail message from your sister, Joy. Now, don’t be upset, but I called her back this morning to tell her you had woken up. I also told her that you didn’t want to talk to her, just as you would have wanted me to. But she insisted on talking to you anyway.”

“And so?”

“Well, it turns out your mom is in the hospital. The doctors don't give her long to live. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

Alyndia stared at MacGregor, scarcely able to fathom the news. Connie Bain had been estranged from her family for years, and the hostility she felt toward them still burned in her up to the moment she put on the bracelet. To harbor such bitterness toward family members was unthinkable to Alyndia, who had lost her beloved mother before she had reached the summer of her fifteenth year and who in some ways had never quite recovered from the loss. Indeed, this was why she projected into the Wild—so that she could leave her sense of loss behind and find solace in a new world with the man who promised her eternal love. And now she resided in the body of a woman who wanted nothing to do with her family. Alyndia wondered what calamity could have happened to cause such a profound rift between Connie and her family, as she could not recall very much about that part of Connie’s life. She wracked her brain, trying to recall whatever memories were available to her.

“I have three younger sisters,” Alyndia said. “Joy is the second oldest.”

“Yes, it was Joy I spoke to yesterday. I don’t think you’ve ever told me the names of your other sisters.”

“Faith and Felicity,” she said without a beat. Although she could recall their names, she was unable to visualize what they looked like. “Why does Joy want to talk to me?”

“Not sure. But I think it has to do with your mom. My gut says she wants you to go to her in Wisconsin—to make peace with her before she passes.”

“Goodness me.”

Alyndia raised her left hand and rested it on top of her head. As she did so, the bandage slipped downward, revealing the nasty burn around her wrist. She had no idea how she would be able to handle this situation. So far, no one knew Connie Bain was really Alyndia, the Elemental Sorceress of Roggentine, daughter of Alitrea. On top of that, she knew nothing of Connie’s present life or history aside from vestiges of memory left behind and what she had inadvertently discovered. And from what Alyndia had experienced already, there were a great number of complexities. Gerald instructed her not to reveal her true identity to the hospital staff when she awoke without his presence in Elise’s body. Even though the scenario had changed, she steadfastly followed his instructions, playing the part of this stranger as well as she could, a woman she was beginning to despise.

“Do you think I should contact her?”

“It’s up to you, babe. I realize you’ve always had a rocky relationship with your family, particularly with your mom, so I understand how you feel. Still—”

“I’m just wondering whether I have the right to interfere.”

“Interfere? With what? You’re family, aren’t you?”

“Well—I mean—I haven’t spoken to them in years,” she said, correcting herself.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind hearing from you. At the very least, you could offer your condolences.”

“That would be insincere; I would just be putting on an act.” She turned to face him squarely. “You may not realize it, but this whole situation puts me in a very awkward position.”

“Look, Connie. Just because I spoke to her, that doesn’t mean you have to call her back,” he said. “I was just trying to do you a favor.”

“I just don’t want to be insincere.”

“All right—then don’t call her. End of story.”

Alyndia continued turning over the situation in her mind. She herself still yearned for her mother, Alitrea, who had left her in her teenage years. Then she thought that perhaps she could do departed Connie’s family a favor by making amends. Although it would be a falsehood, her family would be better for the illusion.

“No, Will,” she said. “Send Joy the message that I would be pleased to meet her and make peace with my mother.”

MacGregor cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I just think it would be the right thing to do.”

“Well, I think so too, but—”

He paused as though he could not find the right words.

“But what?”

He rubbed his neck. “Frankly, I’m just a little worried about you.”

“You think I belong in the hospital?”

“No, no. It’s not that. I just think maybe I shouldn’t have sprung this on you with your mom and all right after you just woke up from a coma. I think that was the wrong thing to do.”

“No, Will. You did the right thing to tell me,” she said softly. “And I’m glad you told me.”

She reached out and stroked his cheek. The tension in his face instantly melted beneath her touch, and he smiled. She leaned back in the chair and looked out across the parking lot.

“Now that we’ve eaten, where do we go?” she asked.

“Well, I was thinking we just go home.”

“You and me? Are you saying we live together?”

“Yes. That is, if nothing’s changed between us.”

“I see,” she said, trying to visualize what it was going to be like living with this stranger.

“I have a question for you, Connie, and I want you to answer truthfully. Do you blame me for not going with you to the hospital with the bracelet?”

“Why would I blame you?”

“Maybe if I’d been there I could have stopped you from putting it on.”

“No, I don’t blame you at all. It’s all my fault. I was a true fucking idiot who didn’t know what I was doing, and I got what I deserved.”

Alyndia heard that raw, emotive edginess in her voice again as she said this. It was a way of expressing herself she didn’t have back in Cerinya. MacGregor only stared at her speechless, mouth agape, obviously nonplussed by her reaction to his question.

She answered him again, this time in an immeasurably softer tone of voice. “Of course not, Will. I don’t blame you for anything. But on the way home, I’d like to stop by Mercy Hospital to visit Elise Layton.”

“Huh? You want to see Elise Layton?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

“She’s still in a coma, you know. Nothing’s changed.”

“The doctors told me she almost died when I put that bracelet on in the room with her. A flux of energy affected the machinery that keeps her alive.”

“So?”

“I just told you. She almost died. What I did almost killed her.”

“What does that matter? She’s been in that coma for a long time. She could die at anytime on her own.”

“I don’t care. I want to see her.”

MacGregor shook his head and sighed.

“What?”

“Nothing, Connie. Whatever you want. Let’s go.” He turned the key and started the engine.

* * *

“This is where she is,” the nurse said, leading the two of them to the room where Elise Layton lay.

“Thank you,” Alyndia said.

“Remember that you are not to touch or disturb the equipment in any way. Call me if you need anything.” The nurse said before walking off.

Alyndia entered the room and then turned when she saw that MacGregor wasn’t following her.

“Are you coming in?”

“It’s dark in there,” MacGregor answered.

“Are you afraid of the dark?”

“You just do your thing with her, and I’ll wait out here.”

With those words, he sat down on a chair positioned outside the door and pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket. Alyndia shrugged and walked in. There were four beds in the room, each with a comatose patient connected to life support equipment similar to the equipment that had been connected to her. She found Elise Layton’s bed by a window with drawn blinds.

She stood close to Elise’s bed and looked into her face. Elise’s auburn hair was cut short, and her face was partially covered by respirator equipment, and a feeding tube went into her nose, but she could easily tell that the woman was attractive. Gerald had told her that she was beautiful both in body and in spirit. She had no doubt that he’d been telling the truth.

Alyndia took her hand. It was cool and flaccid. She lifted it, pressed it to her cheek, and then kissed it.

Alyndia left the room a few minutes later, wiping her eyes. Will was still sitting in the chair. Something about her appearance or demeanor caused him to wince when he saw her standing before him.

“Did you see her?”

Alyndia nodded.

“And?”

“I’m ready to go now. Take me away from here.”