Ellida (38 page)

She looked like Mother Earth herself.

“You won’t take this from me, Seth,” I
grunted through my clenched teeth. “You killed my father, her
father, you turned my mother’s and Rowena’s lives into hell, but
God help me, I’ll stop you before you harm my wife and my child.” I
kissed my sleeping wife and placed my hand over her round
swell.

I lay awake, going through every single
detail of the attack I could anticipate. In his ignorance, Seth
didn’t take into account that the ordinary people of Copper Ridge
were waiting for the first opportunity to end his reign of madness.
I wasn’t sure what their role would be, since they were civilians,
untrained for combat, and I was worried about possible
casualties.

Seth didn’t trust Darius, but he didn’t
consider him as his enemy either. He still didn’t know about
Tristan and Livia and their own small army of Tel-Urughs. He didn’t
know about Ingmar, Dinah and Gerard, and the Winstonians. Seth
still had more soldiers than I did, though, and I didn’t like it.
On the other hand, we had a great motivation to end this madness.
Seth’s army was a bunch of mercenaries who fight for money, not for
their convictions. And he didn’t have much money left.

I’D HEARD many times that we could have
everything we wanted if we believed we could have it.

I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths and
imagined the simple, ordinary pleasures we’d enjoy once free of the
constant threat from Seth’s craziness. Like a Halloween
celebration. I visualized Astrid in some lovely costume, handing
out sweets to the children. My mother would be busy making one of
her elaborate Halloween feasts with funny food and green, smoky
drinks, and her famous lemon cake with a chocolate spider web on
it.

I imagined working not on military training
anymore, but focusing on securing funds for the new orthopedic wing
Gerhard Falkenstein had been dreaming about, and a 3-D sonogram
Astrid had asked about, a new school playground, a fresh coat of
asphalt for our roads, a new resort with pools and spas that would
bring tourists here all year around.

I wanted to do my civil job, which, in times
of peace, would pretty much fit the job description of a small town
mayor.

I pictured Astrid in a wedding gown in our
old church and myself beside her, holding my daughter in my arms, a
big town square celebration after the ceremony and our honeymoon in
Villa Aurelia
in Palermo, Sicily.

I closed my eyes and drifted into a shallow
sleep with Astrid’s smiling face behind my closed lids.

IT WAS a quiet night at the hospital. I was
in my office, immersed in reading an interesting article on the
benefits of rapid intravenous platelet inhibition during
percutaneous coronary intervention when I heard a soft knock on the
door.

“Come in, please.”

Henry Flanagan’s smiling face peaked in.
“Would you mind if I join you, Dr. Mohegan? I can’t get back to
sleep.”

Henry’s sleeping pattern was temporarily
disturbed. Ahmed had warned me about it. Tonight he’d woken up
again in the middle of the night, well rested and full of energy.
Of course, had gotten bored. The previous night I’d let him stay in
my office until morning. We’d played chess and talked. I’d really
enjoyed his company, but neglected to tell him it wasn’t an open
invitation.

I sighed. Too late to clarify it now.

“You may stay for a while. Have a seat. Tell
me first how you are feeling.”

“Excellent, Dr. Mohegan. I’m just not sleepy,
that’s all.”

I touched his forehead, just in case,
although I had thoroughly checked him a few hours ago. His
temperature was normal. “Okay, it feels fine. So, what are you
going to be for Halloween?”

“I know you probably expect me to be more
original, Dr. Mohegan, but I really want to be Harry Potter. He’s
my favorite character.”

I smiled. “Oh, that’s fine, Henry. I want to
be some sort of princess. Not very original either. I just can’t
resist those beautiful dresses, shoes and tiaras.”

Henry laughed. “I suppose dressing up as a
witch or werewolf wouldn’t work for you.”

“A vampire would do, though,” I said,
laughing.

“Who’s your favorite princess? Mary, my
cousin, she likes Cinderella the most.”

“I just ordered a Princes Aurora costume. I
like her the best.”

I’d been planning a second Halloween
celebration for later that night, more intimate and more on the
kinky side. With Maggie’s help, I’d been secretly working on a
surprise costume, but that wasn’t a topic I was keen to discuss
with six-year old Henry Flanagan.

HENRY’S GRANDMOTHER, Donna Flanagan, and his
uncle, Mike Kowalski, had rushed Henry to the hospital a few nights
ago. He had severe pain in the right lower abdomen, accompanied
with low fever, nausea and vomiting. The physical exam and
ultrasound had confirmed appendicitis.

There was a very long list of various
allergies in his medical file, including penicillin and numerous
other prescription drugs or their components. Henry’s medical
history, however, couldn’t give us a clue about possible allergies
to anesthetics because he’d never been tested for them. And of
course, Ahmed hadn’t had time to determine the exact drugs to which
Henry could be allergic.

“I can’t put him under general anesthesia,
Astrid,” he said grimly. “It would be asking for trouble.”

“The same applies to spinal anesthesia,
then,” I’d said.

“Same. Although we would be able to monitor
him better. But it’s still too risky. We’ll do it without
anesthesia. Let’s prepare him.”

We’d worked fast. I didn’t questioned Ahmed’s
decision, nor could I know what we were about to do. I only knew I
trusted him completely.

“He’ll be conscious the whole time, but he
won’t feel a thing,” Ahmed said. “You have to work fast, though,
because I can’t keep him in that condition for long. It takes a lot
of energy.”

I nodded. Half an hour later, Henry was in
the operating room.

Ahmed gently stroked his face, flushed with
fever and shiny with sweat. “Young man, Dr. Mohegan’s going to
remove your appendix. You know what that is?”

Henry blinked and nodded. He was scared, yet
he smiled bravely. “It’s sort of a small pouch that is attached to
the beginning of my large intestine. It’s inflamed, and it’s very
dangerous if it’s left untreated, so it must come out,” he said in
one breath.

“Are you planning to be a doctor one day?”
Ahmed said, smiling. “I hope you do, because that would be an
incredible benefit to the medical community. Think about it. Now,
you know that you’re allergic to all sorts of things. Dr. Mohegan
will do the surgery, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt. Okay?”

Henry’s eyelashes fluttered several times and
he swallowed hard.

“I’m a
shihirbaz
, Henry. Do you know
what that is?” Ahmed asked the little boy, whose face was now
paper-white, and moved his hands down to his abdomen. “In my
language
shihirbaz
means wizard,” Ahmed continued in his
low, soothing voice. “Now, I’m going to tell you a story about my
great-great-grandfather, who was the first
shihirbaz
in our
family. His name was Harun, and he lived in Izmir, a beautiful town
by the Aegean Sea—”

“It’s also called Smyrna,” Henry said in a
weak voice. “Has Dr. Mohegan started yet?”

“She’s about to. Don’t worry, you won’t feel
any pain. Anyway, when Harun was about your age…” Ahmed carried on
in a quiet tone. At the same time, his hands framed a circle on
Henry’s lower abdomen. Without interrupting his narrative, he took
a deep breath and briefly closed his eyes.

“We’re ready, Astrid. Work fast,” he
said.

Without hesitation, I made a McBurney
incision. I glanced at Henry. He didn’t wince.

Leslie, a surgical nurse, was doing an
excellent job. She was calm and confident, as if assisting in
non-anesthetized surgeries was a daily event.

After thirty minutes, we were done. Ahmed
removed his hands from Henry’s abdomen, and stroked his cheeks.
“It’s over, Henry. You were incredibly brave. Rest now,” he said
quietly. “The antibiotics will do the rest.”

“Okay,” Henry sighed sleepily. “Make sure
they are non-penicillin. Please tell my grandma and Mike I’ll be
okay. It didn’t hurt at all. It was only ticklish a bit.”

Henry smiled and drifted to sleep.

I glanced at Ahmed. He was a bit pale and
looked tired, but besides that, he seemed fine. “What was that,
Ahmed? How come I didn’t know about it?”

“One of my secret skills. I’ll tell you about
it later,” he said. We walked to the waiting room to talk with
Donna Flanagan and Henry’s maternal Uncle Mike, a six-foot-two
werewolf from a southern Texas clan. He’d moved to Red Cliffs a
year ago to be close to his sister and her family. According to the
local gossip, the handsome Deputy Sheriff with his signature black
Stetson and cowboy boots was such a hot item on the bachelor market
that his single days seemed numbered.

Donna and Mike rushed to us.

Throughout my career as a doctor, I’d learned
that a smile was worth a thousand words. Before Donna or Mike could
ask about Henry, I smiled at them broadly. “He’s gonna be fine,” I
said. “We’ll keep him here for two-three days, but he’ll be
okay.”

“Thank you, Astrid,” Donna said and hugged
me. “That was scary. Angela and Jordan must be out of their mind
with worry.”

But Mike was already on the phone, talking to
his sister. “He’s fine, Angie,” he said. “Dr. Canagan just talked
to us. Yes, she and Dr. Demmir operated on him. He’s sleeping now…
No, no problems with allergies, he’s fine… Yes, I’ll stay with
Donna… She’s okay… Let me talk to Jordan, honey.”

“Angie phoned from Anchorage airport,” he
explained when he finished talking to his brother-in-law. “They’ll
try to catch the first flight to Denver.”

“Anchorage?” Ahmed said. “I saw her three
days ago.”

“She went to Alaska to stay with Jordan for
the last week of his assignment. A sort of second honeymoon,” Donna
said.

Jordan Flanagan was an environmental
specialist, she explained, who had taken a six-month research
assignment in Alaska as part of his doctoral studies.

“I’m so relieved I could cry,” Donna said in
a trembling voice. “I was so scared.”

Astrid hugged her gently. “It’s over, Donna.
Henry will recover in no time.”

LATER THAT night Ahmed had told me about his
unusual ability. His hands on Henry’s abdomen, he’d explained,
formed a sort of energy field, making the whole area inaccessible
to pain.

His rare skill also worked as a sort of
advanced Emergency First Aid: his energy acted as a highly
efficient cardiopulmonary resuscitation and natural defibrillator,
if necessary.

Keeping a heart alive and managing the pain
required a tremendous amount of energy, and Ahmed couldn’t have
carried on with that kind of procedure indefinitely. “One hour,
tops,” he’d said, “but that’s usually enough.”

“YOU’RE GOING home tomorrow, Henry,” I said
and moved my bishop. We were playing an online game of chess on two
computers. Henry nodded, his eyes fixed on his screen.

As soon as this mess with Seth was over, I
thought, I’d have Liv examine Henry and recommend one of her
experimental therapies. I said experimental, because Livia still
couldn’t introduce them to humans, but I knew they were absolutely
safe and one hundred percent effective. Well, it might not be
enough proof for humans—they were really fond of testing and
retesting their pharmaceuticals—but it would be quite okay for
us.

“Check-mate, Dr. Mohegan!”

“Marvelous, Henry! Congratulations. Now I
really think you should go back to your room and try to sleep. It’s
almost dawn,” I said, accepting my defeat.

“Please, Dr. Mohegan, one more game.
“Besides, Mike promised to come before the end of his shift.”

“Don’t count on that, Henry. Mike’s shift
ends at six, and you’re going back to your room right now.”

“Just one more game. Please.”

I let out another resigned sigh. I could be
the highest authority of my clan, but I was apparently fair game
for a 168-IQ six-year old genius with a particular talent for
chess.

“Okay. One more and then you’re going back to
your room. Deal?”

Henry beamed. “Deal!”

“And don’t tell your grandmother I let you
stay awake so late.”

“Or rather so early.”

“Right. Just don’t say a word.”

THE CALL had come through the dispatcher at
3:25 a.m.

Our ambulance squad always included a doctor
on duty—a practice similar to those in some European
countries—providing the name, address and brief description of the
emergency.

My heart froze.

‘Frances Colby, 56 Tamarack Drive, eight
months pregnant, heavy bleeding,’ the message said.

My phone started buzzing at the same
moment.

“Astrid, oh, God, I’m so glad you’re working
tonight! I’m here with Frances. She’s bleeding!”

The agitated voice sounded
almost
exactly
like Peyton’s, but it couldn’t fool me.

The monitor on my desk read that the
ambulance was ready to dispatch.

The door opened at that moment and a man that
looked
almost exactly
like Mike Kowalski stepped in. He
couldn’t fool me either.

“Dr. Mohegan, let’s go if you’re ready,” he
said. “Henry, how are you feeling?”

Henry nodded. “Good, Uncle. Thank you.”

“I’ll be behind you, Dr. Mohegan. As
usual.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Mike.”

Jack had insisted that Mike always accompany
me whenever I responded to a call, and this bastard knew that.

“Peyton,” I said over the phone, “when did
the bleeding start? How heavy it is?”