12. Bloodless
BLOODLESS
Irene
Someone was calling my name, but I didn’t have the strength to reply.
“Darling.” It was Papa. He held my hand in his. “You’re safe at home.”
Home. The last thing I remembered was being in Alex’s room as he told me to run. I blinked my eyes open, but it required a ridiculous amount of energy.
Papa’s concerned face filled my field of vision. “I’m so relieved.”
My neck and throat were on fire.
Seemingly reading my mind, he helped me drink a full glass of water, but it didn’t do much for the pain. A bandage was wrapped around my neck.
“What happened?” I asked.
He caressed my forehead. “Mr. Strange found you unconscious in his flat. He came here to warn me, which nearly killed him. Some thugs had beaten him badly. I took you home and sent a physician to Alex. He had break-bone fever. He’s at the fever hospital.
But you…” His voice cracked. “Dr. Fletcher said you have signs of severe blood loss.”
I swallowed a few times. “Am I wounded?”
“No. Dr. Fletcher said you must have a disease that destroys blood cells, like anaemia. That’s why you’re so tired.” He patted my head. “I thought I’d lost you.”
My power was silent. It didn’t detect anything, as it had with Alex.
“Is it break-bone fever?”
“No, no, no.” His grey eyebrows rose. He sounded like he was reassuring himself more than me.
“Dr. Fletcher is sure about that. You aren’t running a fever and don’t have shivers.
You must drink a lot of broth and tea and rest.” He drew the curtains.
“You’d better sleep. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you. ”
He kissed my forehead.
When he left my room, I pulled down the bandage and touched my aching neck to understand what on Earth was happening. A chill set into my bones.
Little, itchy bumps rose on my skin. I snatched the hand mirror from the nightstand and had a look.
Two circular wounds marred my neck, red and swollen. The same as Alex’s.
I dropped the mirror.
His disease was contagious. And I was going to die.
A week later, I hadn’t died.
After resting, drinking gallons of sweet tea, and eating rare steaks, the pain in my neck was almost gone, and Dr. Fletcher was certain I was on the mend.
My head didn’t spin anymore, and the wounds were two red dots no bigger than pinheads.
Whatever had caused the blood loss wasn’t going to kill me. But weakness plagued me.
Papa sent for Dr. Fletcher every other day. Jones drove everyone mad, checking every five minutes that no servants showed any strange symptoms. And I wasn’t allowed any visitors. Not that anyone came. Darius hadn’t brought me news. Alex was likely dead, and I hadn’t done anything to help him.
“What happened to Alex?” I drank my third cup of morning tea as Papa kept me company in my bedroom.
“You needn’t worry about him. The doctors and nurses at the hospital will take good care of him.”
“Can’t you send someone to ask about him? I’m worried.”
The change in his expression was immediate. “Darling, I don’t want to risk one of my servants’ health by sending them to the fever hospital, and the fact we haven’t talked about what you did, sneaking out of the house to see him, doesn’t mean I’m not angry.”
It was best not to insist.
For a week, I’d skimmed the newspapers, searching for any clues about the fate of the sick people, but they didn’t report anything useful about the outbreak.
Papa hadn’t let me out of my bedroom, and the housekeeper had enforced a strict routine about hygiene and precautions. I had to wash my hands every time I touched anything, and only overcooked vegetables were served.
None of our neighbours caught the fever, yet Papa lived in terror I might die. My Season had been postponed to the next year, and I didn’t mind.
I opened my window and let the fresh air in. The trees in Hyde Park grew pale green leaves. Ladies donned lighter gowns and twirled their parasols. No one was in a panic.
Dusk dropped over London like a velvet blanket. I’d left the curtains drawn, and the moonlight poured through the window, casting the shadow of a tree on the wall. It looked like a gnarled hand trying to grab me.
A strong tug pulled at my chest as if a rope were tied around me and someone yanked it.
I pushed aside the cover and walked to the window, following the tug. The floor chilled my bare feet.
Clouds veiled the moon. The wind howled, and rain pelted the cobbles.
A carriage passed by. A cab followed. Nothing odd. Except for a tall, broad man standing below my window. He stood in the pouring rain, seemingly not caring about getting soaked.
When he gazed up, the tug jerked me towards him. My power wasn’t back yet, but maybe the tug meant it wanted to come out.
The man stared at me, and uneasiness slithered down my spine. There was something…unnatural about him. I turned away from the window as my head spun. When I faced the street again, the man was gone.
Only a faint throb in my chest remained.