29. Chapter 29
Chapter 29
“ V ery weak, but it’s there,” Dr. Deniau said after listening for a heartbeat.
Will held his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from wringing them raw. “How much longer for the last phase?”
“A few hours. She might make it through. But I’m not certain she’ll be strong enough to pull herself out afterward.” Dr. Deniau set her stethoscope on the table. When her eyes met Will, they held more emotion than he’d ever seen in them before. “I’m sorry.”
“There has to be something you can give to her. Drugs to lessen the pain …”
“You know very well I had already given them—to the very limit of what I would consider healthy. They will do nothing else but spare her a fraction.”
“Then—something else—anything that will pull her through the worst— ”
“The problem is, this is no ordinary disease. It is no ordinary procedure. Therefore, no ordinary medicine will suffice.”
Will rushed out to the main part of the lab, hiding his pain behind frustration. He paced in front of the windows, then to the other side of the lab, then back again.
No ordinary medicine will suffice.
What about an extraordinary medicine?
“Doctor!” he yelled, needlessly since Deniau had already followed him. Will faced her across the table, clutching its metal edge. “Years ago, you worked with my father on a project. A device that could heal wounds through time travel.”
“By time-reversing a fraction of the body, with almonite, back to the pre-wounded status. Yes?”
“Could you not do so here?”
“If you know about the project, then you also know it was prematurely canceled. We never achieved complete success.”
“No time like the present, right?” A tiny shred of hope wormed through a dense darkness filling Will’s chest. “We might have to make a few amends, but the groundwork is there. I studied the device. If I get the right material, I’m certain I can construct it. Perhaps, with the advances in technology, even improve on it.”
Dr. Deniau’s lips still pursed pessimistically, but her eyes revealed a glimpse of hope. “It would be a long shot—the original was meant to heal surface-level wounds, such as scrapes and shots. Not internal.”
“Let me try, please. Do you remember your formula for the serum? I can make the device, you make the serum …”
“I do remember. But even with that …” Her voice stopped Will halfway to the door—he was ready to go hunting for materials. “Even with a pe rfect, improved device, you forget one crucial ingredient of the serum. We need a Leader’s blood for it to work.”
“That’s not a problem.” Will walked back to her and rolled up his sleeve. “You can take mine.”
***
A sliver of awareness shot through the dark nothingness of a deep sleep. First, Sylvia breathed, drinking on the air like water after a long thirst. She opened her eyes and, as the shadows cleared, found herself staring into the dull gray ceiling.
Heaven looks odd. It feels odd, too.
Maybe she hadn’t gone to Heaven. Wherever they’d put her, it looked much like the room where Dr. Deniau was performing her procedure, down to the same bed Sylvia was still lying in. With surprise ease and lack of pain, she turned her head to the side to see a familiar dark-haired figure snoozing on the chair next to her. Well, wherever they’d put her, at least they gave her him. And for some reason, they’d chosen the look of ruffled hair and crumpled shirtsleeves with a loosened tie.
With a few more blinks, Sylvia cleared the last spots from her eyes and examined herself. The breastplate was gone. She’d been changed into a long, non-descript gown resembling a thick nightshirt with short sleeves. The bandages previously covering her puncture marks were gone; instead, her arms were covered, shoulder to wrist, in a series of patches, about two inches each, weaved in a mix of textile and something metallic. A wire led from each patch to the side table, where they congregated into a box-like apparatus with a series of buttons and a large battery at the top .
No. It still wasn’t over. This couldn’t be Heaven—they wouldn’t still be torturing her. Sylvia yanked her arm, and one of the patches came off, revealing dark blue skin of an unnatural bruise underneath. Sylvia tried to scream, though at best, a fearful moan came out; but whatever she did, it was enough for Will to wake up.
“No, no. Stay calm. Don’t move.” He was on his feet in an instant and held down her arm. “It’s all right. These are meant to help you.” He lightly brushed his finger along the dark blue skin. “You’re fine.” His eyes met hers, and the golden specks danced in relief. “Sylvia, you’re going to be fine.”
“I don’t understand. I was … the extraction …”
“The extraction is complete. You have no more almonite in your body. Well, except for what is in traces here, but this will flush out once you’re healed.”
Her heart leaped. No more almonite. Free. “Then what are these patches?”
“An adjusted version of a device my father and Dr. Deniau designed a long time ago. It was meant to heal with a selective, regional application of almonite to wounded tissue to reverse the process.”
Big words. Too big right now.
“So I’m fine?”
“Just so.” Will sat back down. “The process is still ongoing, but you coming back to consciousness speaks of our success.”
Some of his explanations finally registered in her brain. “You said almonite. Did you use the one you got from me?”
Will cleared his throat. “No. It doesn’t work that way. A specific mutation of almonite is needed. One found in a Leader. We used my blood.”
“You healed me. You … you saved my life.”
Will gave her a shy smile and squeezed her hand .
The door opened abruptly, and Dr. Deniau marched in. “I see our patient is recovering,” she said. “How are you feeling, Lady Ross?”
Happy. Anxious. Relieved. Ecstatic. Exhausted. “Everything.”
Dr. Deniau pursed her lips. “I think an examination might be necessary. I can conduct it. Take a break, Monsieur Marshall. And may I suggest a bath?”
During the next day, Sylvia’s state rapidly improved. She’d easily passed the doctor’s examination and a motorics test, and her appetite returned. Soon, the patches were removed. Still in the small room, Sylvia changed into her regular clothes, combed her short hair back, and inspected herself in the mirror. She touched her cheeks, stretched her fingers, ran them along her arm. No signs that anything had happened to her in the last week.
Will and Dr. Deniau were in the main lab. When Sylvia arrived, the doctor was fiddling with a few syringes, all holding a dark blue liquid. “This is all the refined almonite we got from you,” she told Sylvia, then turned to Will. “I would very much like to examine it. I also have an old colleague, a former Watcher, who’d give an arm to study something like this.”
“An old colleague?” Will asked warily.
“You don’t trust me, of course. It’s a rare occasion, Monsieur Marshall, for us to study a new type of almonite. Extremely rare in our time.” Dr. Deniau grabbed a slim box and packed two syringes into it, leaving two more on the table. “Here. Why don’t you visit him yourself and judge whether he’s trustworthy? You can give him one sample and keep the other for yourself. I’ll give you his address—although I believe you can also find him at his stall at the Exposition. In the Galerie des Machines.”
Dr. Deniau scribbled on a piece of paper and handed both items to Will.
“I’ll think about it. ”
“I will, of course, examine the substance myself. If you return in two days or so, I may have news for you.”
“Then we’ll do that.” Will turned to Sylvia. “Are you ready to leave? The hotel will start serving dinner soon.”
Dinner. That sounded delicious. “Oh, yes, please.” Sylvia slipped her arm around his offered elbow. Turns out Heaven was real, after all.
Late in the evening, Sylvia sat on the bed in her small hotel room, feeling too excited to fall asleep yet. No, excited was not quite the right word—something else was permeating her entire being, akin to joy and restlessness, an indescribable feeling of appreciation of everything. The nicked edges of her bed were beautiful; that bump in the wooden floor she always stumbled on was beautiful; and the city, and the people, and everything—all was so very beautiful.
She clutched her nightgown to her neck, opened the window, and breathed in the night air. Two kinds of sweetness drifted to her on the breeze—one good, of pastries and chocolate and vanilla—one less pleasant, of rotten food. Sounds of music and loud, off-key singing came from the floor below. In the distance, a dog barked. A light flickered at the end of the narrow, empty alley her window was facing. Sylvia closed her eyes, tilted her face toward the foggy sky, and simply enjoyed.
Next to her, another window creaked open. She was too slow to react, and Will popped his head out, inspecting the surroundings in much the same manner as she just did, before she got the chance to hide.
So instead, when he spotted her, she didn’t retreat. She smiled and waved. Will returned the same. She thought of remarking on the beauty of the night, but in the end, no words were necessary. He must have felt it, too .
“Let’s go to the Exposition. Tomorrow,” she said after a minute of companionable silence. “You can search for Dr. Deniau’s colleague, or not. But let us go.”
Will stared thoughtfully into the distance. Then he looked at her, smiled, and nodded.