Page 13 of The Doctor and the Devil
I felt a strange pressure around my chest, as if my stays had grown too small. Had I laced them too tight when I dressed for my evening? Was I at Charlotte’s château? Where was she? Where was I?
Confusion clouded my mind, but instead of panicking, I grasped for it like a thick blanket and wrapped it tighter around myself. Everything felt off-kilter, but so delicious.
I heard the rush of wind in my ears and a lilting giggle, which I realized had slipped from my lips.
Why am I laughing?
I cracked one eye open, expecting to find myself at home in bed, rousing from some curious late-night dream. Or perhaps I was at Charlotte’s home, tucked into one of her guest room beds after having one too many glasses of champagne with dinner.
No, that’s not right. I hate champagne.
Still, nothing could have prepared me for the sight I beheld.
I stared up at an enormous creature—so massive and terrifying, it looked like Hell had spat it out for being too much a horror. Half bat, half demon, it held me in its huge claws, carrying me through the air on tattered, leathery wings. Fear unlike anything I’d experienced seized me, and I opened my mouth to scream. Oddly, a hysterical laugh pierced the night instead of a shriek, and the hell-beast looked down at me.Is that blood on its face? Is it going to eat me?
The idea seemed so preposterous.Have I survived all that I have to be eaten by a giant devil bat?What a bizarre end for a doctor trying to unlock the secrets of the blood plague. Instead of feeling what would be a normal surge of terror, I could only feel…relief.At last, the weight of obligation, responsibility, and guilt will be lifted. It is only too bad that I am here alone, and no one will know my fate.
More laughter bubbled up from within me, until tears streamed down my cheeks, and I gasped for air. Suddenly, I found it very hard to breathe, as if my lungs would not obey the needs of my body.
The monster holding me swooped downward, and we entered a dark, crumbling stone tower at the top of a forlorn and forgotten castle. The pressure on my chest eased some, and I found myself in a heap of confused limbs on a cold stone floor. Darkness pressed in, making it impossible for me to see. From my left, I heard an ominous and nauseating popping, squelching noise—much like the sound of bones breaking beneath flesh—but it stopped almost as soon as it had started.
Silence descended, which felt infinitely more terrifying.
“Mina,” came a voice. I knew it, as if from a dream.
I scrambled to my feet but was too unsteady. I pitched forward but found myself encased in arms like bands of iron, which lifted me from the ground and carried me from the darkness of the cold tower.
My stomach rolled with the movement, and I squeezed my eyes shut to steady my equilibrium. I heard us move softly down a long hallway, entering door after door until we reached some place warm and quiet.
I heard the soft crackle of a fire in a hearth as cold but gentle hands unpinned my gown and loosened my stays. When I was down to my chemise and stockings, I felt myself being lifted again and tucked into a soft bed layered with fur and velvet blankets. Warmth seeped into my limbs and tugged at my senses, pulling me back toward the abyss of sleep.
Curiosity had me opening my eyes to look for the hell-beast from my nightmares, but in the barest glow of firelight, I only saw a man standing before me.
He was terrifying and beautiful, with long black hair, the chiseled cheekbones and patrician nose of royalty, and obsidian eyes that made me think of forbidding caves at the bottom of the deep ocean. Cold, fathomless, incomprehensible—but not empty. Filled with horrors and mysteries. His features were neutral—his expression impassive, and I realized that his entire mouth and face was covered with blood and filth. Something distant in my mind suggested that it probably wasn’t his own.
Everything about the man was familiar and yet alien to me. Even as my body responded and my arms reached for him, my heart pounded a warning in my chest. I was prey to this predator, but that didn’t dampen the echo of my body’s need for him.
Rafael.
Sleep and the drug that whispered through my veins wrapped me tighter and I slumped back onto the pillows, but I kept my gaze on the dark man standing there, staring at me in the flickering golden glow spilling from the hearth. I wanted to ask him questions, but when I opened my mouth through the syrup of fatigue, only one phrase oozed forth.
“You came back for me.”
He did not react, and it occurred to me that I might not have spoken at all. It was then that sleep finally claimed me, and I remembered no more.
* * *
Fevered visions haunted my sleep. Some felt like memories. Some felt like nightmares, and I mourned my ability to distinguish between the two. One image surfaced again and again—Rafael covered in blood.
Queasiness swirled through my stomach, and I moaned through parched lips. I kicked the damp, sweat-soaked sheets off and blinked in the near darkness. I was in the same room as before, but this time I was alone. A small table next to the bed held my spectacles and a porcelain ewer of water, an empty goblet, and a shallow bowl of some thin, savory broth.
I sat up against the pillows, put on my spectacles, and poured myself some water.Where am I? Where is Rafael? I didn’t dream of him again, did I? How long have I been here? What happened?
The more I came into consciousness, the faster the questions raced through my mind. Panic started to build in my chest, and it took a great feat of strength to prevent it from taking control of me. I sipped the cool water and inhaled slowly to calm myself.
Before I could dwell too much on my troubling circumstances, there was a soft knock on the bedchamber door.
“Yes,” I rasped, my voice hoarse from thirst and disuse.
