The Doctor: Chapter 4

The address she gave me is uptown, and the drive went faster now that the day's traffic was thinning. At half past midnight, at least, it should have been. I was almost there. God, it's a quick drive. Maybe I should turn around. Maybe I shouldn't go tonight.

What if I don't go at all?

The question stirred in my mind too forcefully, and I pressed the thought back into the corner of my mind. I must go. I always go.

I'm in her driveway. I'm knocking on her door. Where's my cane? I didn't pack it. She ushered me in quickly. The bag was heavy.

"May I put this down somewhere?" I asked Barrett, lifting my bag.

"Wherever you like," she responded. A gracious host. I winced. She led me into the living room and turned back to look at me.

"What… do you need?" She couldn't meet my eyes. They never can. This time, I couldn't meet her eyes either.

"The payment first, please." I dropped the bag to free my hands as she retrieved a thick manilla envelope from the coffee table. She handed it to me and waited. I didn't thank her.

"Sheets." Once again, I knew how to do this part. I've done it a thousand times.

"A tarp, if you have it," I added.

"Maybe downstairs." She trailed away in search of the items, and I took a look around the room. Hideous. Bejeweled mirrors, bejeweled pink chairs, bejeweled end tables, a bejeweled couch. The little clear baubles lined every seam in the room. Not precious jewels, either. Glass, or plastic. Overpriced, gaudy things. Her estate sale will be a sallow affair. A chandelier hung from the ceiling of the circular, dimly lit room that I spared myself the indecency of inspecting more closely.

The whapping of slippered feet on the stairs told me Barrett was returning. The absence of the sound of dragging plastic told me her tarp hunt had been unsuccessful. Ugh. Messy work.

I'd dragged her plush pink rug aside by the time she came into view.

"Right here," I opened my arms to take the sheets. She handed them off, and I spread them out flat with a practiced hand, layered on top of each other. I finished the makeshift mat and gestured at it, then shifted back to allow her to take a seat. She hesitated, obviously not used to laying on the floor in her own home, nor anywhere else.

"Ma'am…" I started to offer my assurances, but she cut me off.

"No, it's fine. Let's just do it." She stripped off her jacket, as though it would get in the way.

Unnecessary, but that's fine.

"So, I think I specified when we met, but it's been a while." Barrett announced, her voice radiating a bravery that didn't match the frightened look on her face.

"I want to look sixteen, maybe seventeen."

"Mmm-hmm," I pretended to follow along as I pulled out my switchblade.

"Nice, perky butt, not like this old board." She laughed dryly.

Ugh.

"Blonde, white blonde, and very tan. Not like, ethnic tan, though, you know? Like, a lives-at-the-beach tan. You can do tans, right?"

"Sure." I hoped the shadows would conceal the exasperated look in my eyes.

"And smaller feet! Hey, do you do pedicures? Like, a permanent paint job?" This, of all things, finally broke her inner tension enough to allow her to look me pleadingly in the eyes.

"I need your blood sample now. Your finger, please?" I held my free hand out towards her wrist.

She sighed away her disappointment and proffered her arm.

"Hey, this won't scar, will it?"

She yelped when I dug in without an answer.

"Ugh!" She tried to pull her hand away, but I tightened my grip and pulled her finger into my mouth. My eyes lit up, and she shrieked.

"No! Get away from me! I've changed my mind!" She tugged again on her arm, trying to loosen my grip.

"It's too late now," I said apologetically, coughing into my hand and wiping the blood on her sheets. I really was apologetic, I think.

I couldn't cut the arm holding her close to me, so I dropped the knife from my other hand and bit my wrist until the blood started to drip.

"Drink this," I commanded.

"What?"

"Drink it!" I bellowed at her. My throat couldn't take it, and I coughed out another clot of blood.

"What's wrong with you?" She demanded.

This was getting out of hand. I stilled myself and put my hands in the air, peacefully.

"Drink it, and I'll tell you." Maybe it will calm her down.

"…And then I'll be young forever?"

"After today, you'll never age another day." It was true enough.

More hesitantly than before, she laid back down.

"Go on, then." She waited.

I held my arm above her mouth, and, after a pause, she squawked and licked it, face contorted in disgust. Her eyes lit up, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Tell me."

"Very well," I began.

"When I was a young boy, I fell ill. I was bedridden for months, in and out of consciousness. My lungs couldn't supply enough oxygen to my body, and my brain and organs were shutting down. My father had lost my mother after she gave birth to me, and so he couldn't lose me, the last shred of her. He became desperate."

I laid my hands on her stomach and her neck, as I've always done.

"He sent my brothers out to search for cures from dark places. Forbidden places. They all came back empty-handed, except for one. My eldest brother had encountered a dark magick, which allowed one to become the master of life and death. But granting one this power came at a great cost: The life of another."

"Wait, murder?" Barrett's eyes widened.

"Of a sort. He took the scroll from my brother and laid him down. My brother, who had left his home and risked his life to save me. My father laid him down, read that unholy chant, and traded his life for mine."

Barret gasped.

"Yes, yes, very dramatic. Well, I awoke, healed and wielding this power, and saw what he'd done. I was horrified. My father tried to rejoice over my health, but I wouldn't allow it. I tore the scroll from him and tried to save my brother. Father tried to stop me; he thought it would reverse my own healing. I was small, you see, and it wasn't hard for him to remove me. But I kicked and screamed and raged for hours and hours, and the exhausted man's strength finally gave out. I saved my brother. I brought him back."

"Wait, why didn't he just use a cow, or a pig or something?" Barrett looked skeptical.

"Oh, would you shut up? A more evolved life can save a lesser one, but a less evolved life can't save a more advanced one. Okay? There are rules. Now, when my brother came to, he was in a rage like I'd never seen. He looked at my glowing eyes, and my weeping father, and he realized that this thing he had brought to us was evil. He told us that it was his mistake bringing this unnatural magick into our lives. He told us he needed to be the one to end it. My brother vowed to kill me and thus restore the balance of life and death. He threw the scroll into the fire, then picked up the fire poker and swung it at me. I ducked. He swung again and hit true, a blow to the head. My father grabbed at him before he could strike me again, and my brother turned on him. I had my chance, and I took it. I ran. Like a coward. From the father who saved me, from the brother who died for me, I ran. I left them there to tear each other apart for my mess." I paused.

"What happened to them?"

"Okay, that's enough, it's time. I started to chant, and coughed again. But I never remove my hands, and so the blood dribbled down my chin, dripping to the floor.

"But you never answered me. What's wrong with you?"

I licked the blood off my lips, but more just came to take its place.

"Well, you see," I croaked out, "Father was desperate, and in a rush. He didn't read the scroll completely, like I did. I was still alive, just barely, when he transferred me. He traded the dead for the living, and the living for the dead. So now, that tiny part of my lifeline that was still alive, it dies, over and over again. Every year, on the anniversary of my transfer. I can heal thousands of people a year, but once a year, I have to heal myself as well."

"If you need to be dead to heal, then… Then why am I still alive?" Barrett asked.

"Ah, a smart one. You won't be, soon. Now hush." The familiar chant flowed out of my mouth. It flowed, and flowed, and flowed, in reverse. Washing her lifeline over mine, surrounding me, healing me. The blood pulled itself back up my chin. Her face became hollow. The dark circles disappeared from under my eyes. Her skin became pale and blue. A rush of air flooded into my lungs. Her toes and fingertips started to blacken. The hair that had been falling out started to regrow on my head. She began to crumble.

She crumbled into blackness, into nothing, into ash. The little particles swirled around me, throwing the last of the life they could give into me. Then, slowly, they settled. The dust floated to the floor and laid itself to rest on the sheets. Well, mostly on the sheets.

I stood up and brushed my hands off.

"Well, that's that then."

I balled up the sheets, grabbed my bag, threw them both into my trunk, and drove off into the night.