2. The Sickness
CHAPTER TWO
THE SICKNESS
When I came to, I didn’t recognize my surroundings at first. Chills ran down my spine, and the shadows throughout the room became sinister in an instant. I could only think that it was happening again, that they found me. I froze, momentarily trapped in the memory of my kidnappers’ hands around me, of feeling powerless as they dragged me kicking and screaming down into that dark, musty basement. I should have fought harder, but back then, I didn’t understand the lengths that people would go to get what they wanted. The gates and guards weren’t enough. I knew they wouldn’t be enough, and I let my guard down anyway ? —
As I sat up, the memories of before I collapsed came rushing back.
“Whoa there, sport.” Chris appeared at my side, arms outstretched in a pacifying gesture. Though my heart still pounded with fear, I was so glad to see a familiar face. “Take it easy. Devon’s getting the physician. You shouldn’t try to get up.”
“Wha—” My voice came out as a garbled squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again, attempting to shake the paralysis that had seized my vocal cords. “What happened? I was healing that lady and then… is she okay? Did I do it?”
Was she left disappointed like all the others?
“I don’t know,” Chris said apologetically. “But you don’t need to worry about that right now. You collapsed by the gate. You’re in the vice-presidential medical suite.”
Once I was able to process his words, I took stock of the facts. My head pounded, and the nausea hadn’t yet faded, but the tightness in my chest and the sudden, unusual pain I’d felt before were thankfully gone. I reclined on a medical cot, hooked up to an IV. Some kind of monitor beeped away to my right. The view through the window told me it was dark outside. “How long was I out?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“Just the rest of the day,” Chris replied. Relieved, I sank back against the pillows and closed my eyes. Out of curiosity, I tried reaching for my magic. Not that it ever did anything for me—for whatever reason, it only worked on other people—but I wanted to reassure myself that it was still there. When I found that familiar flicker, I sighed in relief.
But it was barely there. Something was wrong.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. A middle-aged man in a doctor’s coat entered, followed by Devon and George; all wore grim faces. Chris went to sit in a chair by the door. Most times, I could read him like an open book, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking now. Not sure what to expect, I turned my attention to the doctor. I’d been to the medical suite in the past for the occasional ailment, but I didn’t remember meeting him before.
“Ms. Nelson, I’m Dr. Connor Walsh, one of the White House physicians on staff here. I’ve heard a lot about you and your talents. You were close to putting us out of a job.” He grinned, and the corners of his eyes crinkled deeply, which told me this was not the first time he had foisted a joke of questionable nature on a patient.
“Nice to meet you.” I tried to sort through all the questions I had. Was I okay? Did I manage to heal that lady? Did they know what was wrong with my magic?
“Same to you. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” The answer came automatically, the same one I always gave when someone asked how I was. When silence followed, the corners of my mouth turned down. “So, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Well, I took the liberty of running a few tests, since we’re not sure exactly what happened and you have no prior conditions on record. I’d like to go over the results with you.” The doctor raised his clipboard. “Maybe it’s best we speak in private?”
“Oh… sure.” I cast an uncertain look at George, half waiting to see if he would object and half hoping to glean something useful from his expression, but he was careful to keep his thoughts to himself. Chris stood, and he and Devon left the room without a word. George stepped closer to the doctor and said something I couldn’t make out, then patted him on the arm and followed after my bodyguards. When the door closed behind them, Dr. Walsh fetched the chair that Chris had vacated.
“Ms. Nelson, have you injured yourself recently?” he asked as he took a seat by my cot.
“No,” I responded with another frown.
“Have you noticed any discomfort? Shortness of breath, dizziness, swelling, anything?”
“Not really, I…” I started to shake my head, but thought back to that morning and had to amend my answer. “Well, I was a little dizzy and nauseous this morning. I mean, my nerves got to me today. I guess I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and I was stressed out, so exhaustion caught up to me.”
“Perhaps.” The doctor didn’t seem convinced. “Ms. Nelson, I ask because your organ function is concerning. This sort of system distress is usually caused by sepsis, an advanced infection, but we can’t find evidence of that. Frankly, your symptoms are baffling for someone of your age and general health. We’ve gone ahead and given you some antibiotics, and we’ll continue to monitor things, but… we may have to transfer you for more thorough testing.”
My thoughts were clamoring before he finished speaking. The irony of the situation was palpable—the special Golden Child with healing powers was sick. If something happened to me, what would happen to all those people outside? They’d be left without any kind of support. Would they riot in the streets? Would they just shrug it off and go back to wherever they come from? “Am I dying?” The question came out before I could stop it. In the background, the beeping of the vitals monitor sped up.
“I didn’t say that,” Dr. Walsh said quickly. “There’s some ways to go between this”—he indicated the clipboard—“and that. You’re not in the danger zone, so for now, we’re going to keep monitoring your condition and see if you respond to the antibiotics. Once we figure out what’s going on, we’ll be able to put a more effective treatment plan together.”
So, essentially, they knew nothing. Great. I nodded, digesting his words, when a thought occurred to me—coincidence, or something more? “Is this… could this have something to do with my magic?”
The doctor blinked. “Ah… I can’t say. Unfortunately, your abilities are beyond the scope of modern medicine. Do you have reason to suspect that could be the case?”
“Well…” I hesitated. If my powers were gone, what would that mean for me? Would I still be able to stay here, draining government resources for nothing in return? Was there anything I could do for those people without magic? Then again, I couldn’t hide it. Even if I didn’t say anything, they would find out sooner or later. It was probably best to be honest. “I had some… difficulties earlier. Just before I fainted. When I tried to heal someone at the gate, it was harder than usual. I’m not sure it even worked.”
“I see. And you don’t usually have any trouble? ”
“Not really. This is the first time.”
“Hmm. Well, that is concerning. Unfortunately, there’s no way for me to test anything related to your abilities, since we were never able to find physical evidence of your magic, and we still know little to nothing about the effects they have on a human body. Even if I had to guess, I couldn’t say if your healing ability is causing the issue, or if it’s the other way around, and your illness is interfering with your powers.”
I could only nod again. That was old news—back when Marcia and I had first moved to the White House, we had to put up with a myriad of tests. They never did make any headway on finding out what made us different. At least, not that they told us.
“In any case,” Dr. Walsh continued, getting to his feet and moving the chair back to its place by the door, “I’m sure this is overwhelming for you. Take some time to process. If you’d like, we can inform your family of the situation.”
“No, that’s fine,” I said quickly. They didn’t need to be bothered with this. While my parents and I still talked on occasion, it was more for the sake of staying in touch rather than out of care for me. My mother and I had been close before everything went down. When word about my healing abilities got out, people filled our lawn, banging on the windows and begging for me to come out. We couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. It was a relief when the government came knocking, and as far as I could tell, Mom and Dad didn’t miss me all that much.
At first, the lack of contact hurt. I was still a child then, and I didn’t understand why they gave me up. Now, I knew that it was necessary; normal people didn’t have the resources to deal with something like that. In the years since, the pain faded, and I wasn’t all that bothered about being close with the people who gave me life. Plus, they got a generous monthly stipend out of it, so they were happy. The people that mattered most to me now were the ones waiting outside of this room. “Do the others know?” I asked, gesturing to the door .
“While we’re not a public hospital, doctor-patient privilege still applies. We can tell them as much or as little as you like. Though, I will say that Mr. Kepler is particularly invested in your condition.”
“Of course he is,” I muttered. George was unlikely to say it to my face, but this was a disaster. My spirits were at an all-time low. I fidgeted with the edge of the sheet as I mulled over my options, trying my hardest to see if there was anything positive that could come of this. “You can tell him, it’s fine. Can I get my phone?”
“Certainly. I’ll have some personal things brought to you.” Dr. Walsh’s expression softened. “Please know that we will do everything in our power to get you on the road to recovery. You mean a lot to the members of this household, not to mention to the world.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I tried to sound grateful, but I wasn’t sure I managed it. While people meant well, that sort of praise became rather empty after the first few times. Dr. Walsh and everyone else probably assumed I enjoyed the fame, not realizing how stressful that kind of attention could be. If there was a way I could stay safe and keep helping people anonymously, I would do it in a heartbeat, but the fact of the matter was that would never happen.
The doctor left and silence fell, punctuated by the steady beeping of the vitals monitor. My gaze swiveled up to the fluorescent lighting set into the ceiling and I took a long, slow breath to center my thoughts. What if I had noticed something was wrong sooner? Would that have helped? It had been too easy to say that the fatigue and decreased appetite were because of stress. Or, heck, a vitamin D deficiency. I’d grown used to the tightness in my chest, which had been a near-constant companion since my anxiety became noticeable during my preteen years. And to be honest, I’d been rather pleased with the weight loss—at first, anyway. No use crying over spilled milk, I supposed, even though it was easy by now to lose myself to the land of what-ifs and should-haves.
There was a knock at the door. The handle turned, and Chris stuck his head in.
“We’re putting together a list of things to get from your room,” he said cheerfully. “Besides your laptop, phone and charger, toothbrush, and some clothes, is there anything else you’d like? Doc says the med wing bathroom is stocked with toiletries.”
A pang of gratitude for him warmed my tired, aching body. Truly, I had everything I needed here. “Uh… no, I think that’s good. You got all the essentials.”
“Okiedoke. We’ll reach out to your tutors too, to put things on hold for a bit. If you think of anything else you need later, just say the word.”
“I appreciate it, Chris, thanks,” I responded gratefully, and he ducked out of the room. The door shut behind him, and I was left with nothing to do but ponder the fragility of mortality and the potential consequences of my failure.
Days passed. My condition didn’t take any turns for the worse, but neither did I show any signs of improvement, so Dr. Walsh had me transferred to the National Military Medical Center for further testing. They took blood, ordered X-rays and ultrasounds, and did numerous scans. The doctors became increasingly frazzled as results came back and they were no closer to figuring out what was wrong with me.
Bored out of my mind, I passed the time with sleep and mind-numbing reality TV. Every so often, I attempted to access my magic, but it slipped through my fingers every time, and I was rewarded with a bout of vertigo for trying. At some point, George visited to assure me that he was working on a solution and I didn’t need to stress about the next healing event. Despite his relaxed attitude, I still felt the inevitable creeping closer, and the dread did nothing to ease my symptoms. The nurses were kind, but they couldn’t tell me what was going on. No one could.
Finally, two weeks and two days in, George stopped by again, this time accompanied by an official I didn’t recognize. She wore a navy pinstripe skirt suit, and her coily hair was slicked back against her scalp. Her deep ebony skin was smooth and tight, not a line or age spot to be seen, but I got the sense that she was older than she looked. Immediately, my guard went up. Was this going to be the moment they told me I was getting cut off? Panic coursed through me, my heart all of a sudden trying to leap out of my ribcage.
“Miss Avery, this is Vivian Pierce, the Lieutenant Governor of Ohio.” George introduced the woman with a flourish. She gave me a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Nelson. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Vivian said, reaching forward with one hand proffered. Eyeing her warily, I sat up to shake it.
“Your situation is unprecedented,” George started in an apologetic tone. “As such, I’ve had to consider our options carefully. There aren’t many.” He hesitated a moment before resuming. “Given the state of your health, and the concerns related to your abilities… and, especially, to prevent any rumors from floating around… I believe that the best course of action would be to recruit some outside help. How much do you know about the fae?”
If I’d been standing rather than nestled in a throne of pillows, I might have fainted. As it was, something fluttered wildly in the pit of my stomach, but I wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear. Pouring all the strength I had left into keeping my tone even and controlled, I responded, “I mean, just whatever everyone else has heard. They’re beautiful and strong. The Rift gives us access to their world. They’re secretive about their culture and history, but we know they have magic.”
“That’s the short version,” George agreed. “We’ve made some diplomatic progress over the last few years, but there’s a lot we still don’t know. They’re polite, but guarded. That being said, we’re on decent terms with the royal family. I’ve spoken with their ambassador regarding your condition, and they believe they can help. However, they won’t treat you here.”
My eyes widened. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? There was no way.
“Vivian here”—George indicated the lady at his side—“has come to escort you to Ohio, where you’ll meet with an envoy sent by the fae royal family. If you agree to it, and if all goes well, you’ll begin treatment with their medical experts across The Rift.”
Full stop. Did he hear himself? I’d never even left the East Coast before. The last time I tried to leave the White House grounds, I was kidnapped and held in a cellar for four days. I could have died. I may have gotten Marcia killed. Was the idea of meeting the fae thrilling? Sure. Hell, the excitement was making me dizzy again. But there was no way.
Then again… I wasn’t getting any better, and I needed to resume my healing duties as soon as possible. If I couldn’t, I would no longer be of value… and what then? Would they turn me out on the streets and expect me to fend for myself? I was an adult, but I’d never be able to have a normal life. I had no money, no job history, no degree. Maybe my parents would take me back, but what if they didn’t? I’d probably be torn apart by my admirers before I even made it home. The thought had me clenching the sheets so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
I had no choice. None at all.
“Okay,” I said at last, trying to put on a brave face to hide the emotional turmoil that simmered under the surface. “What do I need to do?”
“Great.” George shared a relieved look with Vivian. It did nothing to ease the fierce pounding in my chest. “Take the rest of today to collect your things,” he suggested, not noticing my distress. “Tomorrow, you’ll be escorted to the presidential hangar in Maryland to catch a flight. Lieutenant Governor Pierce will accompany you to Ohio, where you’ll meet with the fae representative. They’ll be assuming responsibility for your treatment from here on out.”