A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 15 Mercy Whitaker

15 MERCY WHITAKER

An older paladin hovered in the corner of Mercy’s room.

Mercy’s restraints were gone, but only because this woman had been left to shadow her movements. She’d been allowed to shower. Her guard had watched from one corner. It was the most shameful experience of her life. An invasion of her privacy and her dignity. Mercy had already felt exposed without her gloves. The fact that this woman was allowed to see her this way, to see the scar running down the lower right side of her stomach. It was too much to bear.

Her only grim satisfaction was the knowledge that she’d done everything in her power to help the people of Kathor. After her outburst, the paladins had returned to the room. She’d demanded they investigate the local water treatment facility. Post guard rotations. Anything that might stop Nance from the next step in his plan—if that next step hadn’t already happened.

The paladins had made their promises, but her assigned guard spoke volumes about how they currently viewed her: a madwoman, a murder suspect. Mercy was starting to feel that way. The biggest shock had been the discovery of how much time had passed since she’d ported back from Running Hills. Weeks and weeks had slipped by without her notice. Enough time that the city might truly be in danger—and yet they seemed content to treat her like the criminal in all of this.

Mercy had little appetite, but her wits had returned to her. It wasn’t smart to refuse food. Sustenance was what fueled the body. How could she properly face whatever was coming if she deliberately weakened herself? Instead, she quietly chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed. All for the sake of gathering her strength. Bracing for a blow no one else believed was coming. She also demanded that her water be boiled first. She’d already been exposed—drinking water during her delirious state and tending to the actual contagion in Running Hills—but no symptoms had come. There was no point risking further exposure.

She was permitted to walk the hospital wing once every few hours. When she did, her entire body protested. Aches in her calves. A sore lower back from too much bedrest. She kept expecting bruises to appear on her skin. Maybe she was getting sick? But the dark marks never came.

A sense of desperation formed in her mind. A feral sort of fear. What if she was never released? What if the hospital sent her straight to one of Kathor’s prisons? Falsely accused of Devlin Albright’s death. Unable to prove the truth. Those thoughts began to haunt her waking moments.

Until Dr. Horn shouldered into her room. “Dr. Whitaker. You’re needed.”

Her guard scoffed at that. “No way. She’s a murder suspect. She’s not going anywhere.”

“We’ve discovered proof of her claims,” Dr. Horn said. “Your commanding officer has been informed. Dr. Whitaker was right. About everything. The water treatment facilities in the city have been compromised. Which means she’s innocent. It also means we need her. Our hospital has twenty-two new patients who’ve all arrived in the last hour. All with signs of heavy bruising.”

Mercy wanted to pump a fist in the air. She wished she could beat her chest and shout in their faces. She was right. They were wrong. As glorious as it felt to have her sanity proven, she knew she couldn’t celebrate. The cost of her freedom was a plague knocking at the gates of the city.

It was here. And it was only the beginning.

“Have attendants start filling up buckets of water,” she said. “As many as we can spare.”

Horn frowned. “I thought water was the mechanism for how the disease is spreading.”

More vindication. Clearly, he had been listening to her all along.

“It is,” Mercy said. “But if they’re arriving with symptoms, there’s no risk of further exposure. All of them are going to be thirsty. It’s a common symptom. I also think we need to go ahead and isolate one wing of the hospital. Clear out every bed in one of the units. I’m thinking…”

“The North Wing,” Dr. Horn finished with a nod. “You’re right. It’s mostly empty anyways. We’ll consolidate beds, move people around. I’ll have our nurses start casting the standard wards. Mask enchantments. All of that.”

Mercy started to rise, but the paladin shadowed forward from the corner and took up a protective stance in front of the doorway. “I have orders to keep you here. I cannot disobey those orders until I’ve heard directly from my commanding officer. We can wait until—”

Dr. Horn cut her sentence off with a shockingly powerful spell. The paladin attempted to raise her divinity shield, but she was a second too slow. The spell punched her square in the chest. Knocked her backward. Mercy gasped when the guard slumped unconscious to the ground.

“We’ll deal with this later,” Horn announced. “Come with me, Dr. Whitaker.”

It felt good to be called by that name again. Mercy stumbled after Horn. Into the waiting hallway. Her mother was there, peeking nervously around the corner.

“Mercy? I thought I heard a noise….”

“Go home, Mother.” It was impossible to keep the heat out of her voice. “We have confirmation that it is no longer safe in the city. The disease that you didn’t think was real is now spreading. Go home. Make sure father is safe. Boil any water you drink. I wish you all the best.”

She made it sound like the dismissal it was. Her mother’s mouth opened, but Mercy and Horn took the corner at speed. They marched straight to his office. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk. Mercy’s gloves were there, along with her uniform. He set both items on his desk before excusing himself to give her privacy. She changed out of the patient gown she’d been wearing. Putting on her official Safe Harbor uniform felt like donning armor. A protective layer that stood between her and the lies she’d almost started believing during her imprisonment. When she slid her enchanted gloves on, pulling them tight over her fingers, it felt as if she were ready for battle.

Horn nodded once when she reappeared and then they were marching back down the main hallway. Nurses were ducking in and out of sight. Mercy heard conflicting orders. Horn’s voice boomed above them all.

“Listen up! We are going to clear this wing. Now! All current patients go downstairs. New arrivals who show signs of bruising will be funneled to this wing until further notified. Let me walk you through what we’re dealing with. Dr. Whitaker, correct me as needed….”

He explained the situation, the symptoms, everything Mercy had detailed to him over the past few weeks. He also explained that the majority of them, if they’d had any water at all, were likely already exposed to the disease they would be treating. The staff were urged to boil their water until symptoms appeared. As he spoke, Mercy maneuvered in the background, preparing her own intake station. Quietly casting enchantments over her cloth mask and her uniform. As soon as Dr. Horn’s speech stopped, the staff began to move. Fulfilling requests. Following orders. Horn turned to her.

“What else? We’re following your lead here, Doctor.”

Mercy nodded. Her confidence was being restored, moment by moment. “It might be smart to reach out to the city’s governors. We’re about to use a lot of magic in this hospital. We should have them divert emergency stipends of ockleys for our staff. Free vessel refills for anyone who comes bearing the Safe Harbor sigil.”

Dr. Horn frowned. “We haven’t activated that protocol since…”

“The War of Neighbors,” Mercy said. “I know. Better safe than sorry.”

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Can you organize this wing in my absence?”

She nodded. “Are we using the Nelson method? Assess, contain, stack?”

“Precisely what I would do.”

He began marching down the corridor before pausing. When he looked back, there was a mixture of despair and pride in his expression. “Mercy, I’m sorry. I should have never doubted you.”

She’d craved those words an hour ago. All she’d wanted then was for one person to believe her story and to confirm she was sane. Now it hardly mattered. There was work to do.

“It’s behind us. Let’s focus now.”

Her response steeled something in him. Dr. Horn nodded before disappearing down the hall. Mercy turned her attention to the nearest attendants. “How many patients are on their way?”

“We’re starting with forty. But there’s more in the line outside. Tons of request for transport. Too many for the triage teams to handle. Gods. It must be chaos out there.”

Mercy was the only one who knew how bad this was about to get. Kathor had more resources than Running Hills. Bigger hospitals and hundreds of talented medics at their disposal. Those were marks in their favor, but everything else was stacked against them.

This was a proper city. Across all Delvea, there wasn’t a larger population that existed in a smaller geographical footprint. Even though the casualty rate had been low in Running Hills, that didn’t mean the disease would cause no damage. It had been temporarily debilitating for its victims. Scale that kind of illness across Kathor and the city’s industries would grind to a halt. She knew there were facilities that relied on passive magic. Those locations would remain operable, but much of the city had been designed with a working populace in mind. It required people to run.

Was that Nance’s endgame? An attack on the city’s infrastructure? Her mind was still chasing through those rabbit holes when the double doors of their wing burst open. Teams of paladins bustled inside. Each pair had a gurney held between them. Mercy took a deep breath and then called out in a commanding voice.

“All patients come to me first. I’ll assess and assign. Everyone, follow my lead.”

Her work began. Asking quick, concise questions. Checking vitals. Everyone in the room was watching her. Mercy’s hands did not shake. Her voice did not tremble. She had spent years training for exactly this moment, for exactly this reason.

“First room on the left,” she ordered. “Next patient!”