The Road to Bedlam: Courts of the Feyre, Book 2 (4 page)

    "What does that mean?" I interrupted him. "What is biological contamination?"

    "It's a term used to describe a range of incidents, but in this case it means that your daughter has been affected by a dangerous pathological contaminant. I don't want to get too technical, but you must understand that this is a most serious situation. We were unable to save three of the girls involved and I have had the unpleasant duty of informing their families earlier. Your daughter's condition is… uncertain at best. In cases like this we have been most successful when we have intervened, but we need your consent to do that."

    There was something in his tone. My Fey senses told me that he was telling the truth as he saw it, but there were undercurrents in his words that left me uneasy.

    "Why won't you tell us what's wrong with her?" I asked him outright.

    "Mr Petersen, I have a duty to your daughter and to some extent also to you. I also have a duty to the public not to cause unnecessary panic. We have the situation contained and there is no cause for public concern, but I am unwilling to divulge the exact nature of the contamination as it might draw unnecessary and unwanted attention. It is difficult enough for the families concerned without the press becoming involved. Believe me, there is nothing worse at a time like this than having reporters camped out on your lawn. So far, the nationals have been satisfied with the press release. They have been offered an explanation that there was a hazardous build-up of pressure in the sewers and that the resulting explosion caused the fatalities. This isn't the whole truth, but it is sufficient for their purposes. They are concentrating on the human interest aspects of the story."

    "Is this the school's fault?" I asked him. "Did they do the proper maintenance?"

    "I can assure you, Mr Petersen, that there will be a formal investigation but our initial findings indicate that there is no way that the school could have prevented what happened. Thankfully, this is a highly unusual occurrence involving a rare form of biological contamination and quite beyond their capacity to prevent or predict."

    "But you won't tell us what."

    "You understand my position. My priority is with your daughter."

    "Just give us the damn forms." Katherine's voice cut across us both.

    Mr Phillips spread the forms out on the coffee table. The print was tiny and I guessed that even if we were legally trained we would be there until dawn if we truly wanted to understand the implications of what we were signing.

    "Where do we sign?" I asked him.

    "Let me explain firstly that you are giving your consent for us to take whatever action we deem necessary to save your daughter. I am not asking for this lightly. Once we intervene things could move quite quickly and we can't keep running back to you to ask if it's OK to proceed. I am asking for this in the knowledge that we were unable to save the other three girls."

    He paused, letting the words sink in. I nodded, accepting his case.

    "If you would sign this general release here and here and initial it there," he marked the points with an X, "and these specific releases here and here." He offered me his ballpoint.

    I took the pen and signed the forms. Katherine waited until I had signed all of them and then took the ballpoint from me and signed them too.

    "Can we see her now?"

    Mr Phillips looked surprised. "I'm afraid that's completely out of the question. She's in total isolation."

    "Dammit!" My fist smashed on to the table. Katherine started at the noise. The sound reverberated in the small room. "We need to see her! We're her parents! We have rights!" It was only then I realised I was shouting.

    The consultant raised his hands, half defensively, half placatingly. "Not until the all-clear is given, I'm afraid. This is a very serious matter."

    "Steady, old chap," said Barry. "The man's only doing his job."

    "You don't…" I ran out of steam as I caught Katherine's eye and she shook her head minutely. "Sorry, Barry. Sorry. I just wanted…"

    Mr Phillips stood up, relieved to be rescued and too obviously wanting to be gone before I started shouting again.

    Katherine stood and held out her hand to the consultant. "Please do everything you can," she told him. "Bring me back my girl."

    He shook her hand and then offered his hand to me and then also to Barry. "We will do everything in our power," he said, his words ringing with certainty for once, and then turned and walked out. I listened to his footsteps fade down the corridor.

    I sighed and collapsed back into the chair. I felt so helpless. I had consigned my daughter into the hands of the professionals in the blind hope that they knew what they were doing. My fears were reflected in Katherine's eyes as she hugged Barry's chest close to her, all the while watching me over his shoulder. We had both made our decision but neither of us was sure we had done the right thing.

    The next few hours were torture. Initially I went to the nurses' station and asked for news every ten minutes. It was a discipline for me to wait the full ten minutes before I went to ask her again. Eventually the nurse asked me as gently as she could to stop pestering her. She promised to come and find us all as soon as there was any news.

    I drank coffee. I tried to focus on the ancient newspapers and tatty magazines that were spread around the waiting room but I found myself reading the same sentence again and again without comprehension.

    "I'm going outside to phone Blackbird," I told Katherine. "She'll be worried too."

    "If anything happens, Barry will come and get you straightaway, won't you, Barry?" Barry nodded his agreement.

    I stopped at the nurses' station and told her where I was going. She promised to send someone for me if anything changed.

    I went back to the lift, descended to the ground floor and walked through reception out into the heavy night air. It was cooler, the sort of night when the light haloed around the street lamps. I used the speed dial on my mobile to call Blackbird. She picked up on the first ring.

    "Hello?" Her voice sounded thin and reedy.

    "It's me. Were you asleep?"

    "No. What's happening?"

    "I don't know. They're treating her now. The waiting is driving me crazy."

    "It was on the six o'clock news. They're saying that it was a sewer gas explosion."

    "It's more complicated than that. They say there's been some sort of contamination. They're being very closed-mouthed about it. They're trying to keep it from the press. Whatever it is, it sounds serious."

    "Did they say she was going to be OK?"

    "No, just that they would do their best."

    "That's all you can ask for, Niall."

    "I know."

    "How's Katherine holding up?"

    "She's OK. Same as me really. She has Barry with her."

    There was a pause.

    "I'll come if you want me to, Niall."

    "No, it's OK. You'll never get a train at this time and a taxi would cost the earth."

    One of the things I had discovered about Blackbird was that she had never learned to drive. With her magic she had never needed to, but now that she was pregnant and her magic had failed her, she found herself marooned by lack of transport.

    "I'll call you as soon as we have news," I assured her.

    "Do, please." She sounded small, but the depth of feeling came through, despite the tinny line.

    "I'd better get back in case there's news."

    "OK, give Katherine a hug for me."

    "I will. Take care."

    "You too. Bye."

    I clicked the phone off and took a deep breath and walked back into the fluorescent brightness, making my way back up to the isolation unit.

    As soon as I appeared, the nurse said, "No news."

    I smiled weakly and went back to join Katherine and Barry.

    They roused themselves as soon as I appeared, then fell back into their chairs as they realised that it was only me. I returned to the armchair, the vinyl cushions wheezing as I sank into it. We sat apart, each with our private thoughts. I suspected that, like me, they were each thinking of the things they would have done differently had they known it would come to this.

    When the man appeared in the doorway we all started. None of us had heard him approach. It wasn't Mr Philips, the consultant, but another man, grey-bearded and wearing a shabby jacket over a grey sweater.

    "Mr and Mrs Dobson?" He glanced at the three of us.

    "Yes?" Katherine answered.

    I stood up. "I'm Niall Petersen. I'm Alex's father."

    "And you are?" he said gently to Barry.

    "I'm her stepfather. They're divorced." He nodded to Katherine and me. It sounded vaguely like an accusation.

    "Have you heard?"

    "Did it work?"

    "Is she OK?"

    Our three questions clashed as we searched his face for answers.

    He came in and sat down between us.

    "My name is David Beetham. I'm not a doctor. I'm a grief counsellor."

    He watched us process that information.

    "There's no easy way to say this, but I'm afraid I have to tell you that your daughter died a short time ago."

TWO

The worst thing was that they wouldn't let us see the body. Both Katherine and I wanted to see her, just to say goodbye and to be able to believe what had happened. Barry was mute, unable to find anything to say that would touch the grief in Katherine and me. He had been fond of Alex, perhaps he had even loved her, but she wasn't his daughter.

    The grief counsellor was kind but firm. "It's out of the question, I'm afraid," he said. "The protocols that come into force in these circumstances are very strict. There is to be no risk of contamination."

    He paused, seeing that there was no recognition of his protocols from either me or Katherine.

    He tried again. "It is a terrible tragedy that your daughter is dead. It would be a much greater tragedy and a gross neglect of responsibility if anyone else died because we had not been as careful and as cautious as we possibly could be."

    "We just want to see our girl," Katherine wailed, and then dissolved into another bout of helpless sobbing into Barry's chest.

    I stood alone, my fists clenched into tight wads of flesh, the tendons on my wrists standing out like wires as I tried to contain the anger that welled up within me. The need to see her, one last time, was raw in me. I knew that I could reach her despite anything they could do to stop me, but also that if I even so much as acknowledged the dark hot core that dwelt within me, it would feed on my anger and release a power that would be beyond my ability to control. No one would be safe, not the counsellor, not Barry and not Katherine.

    "Is it such a lot to ask?" I ground my teeth, biting down on the anger that wanted release.

    "Mr Petersen, I'm truly sorry. If we had a choice then we would allow it, but we do not. The wider safety implications have complete precedence. Is there someone to take you home, perhaps? Is there someone waiting for you?"

    "There is someone, but…" Wiping unwanted tears from my eyes with the heel of my hand, I tried to breathe. I wasn't sure I could tell Blackbird. What explanation could I give? Alex was dead, but saying those words would somehow make them more real.

    "Would you like me to call them first and talk to them, to make it easier?"

    I hesitated and then shook my head. "I have to tell her myself."

    There was a hand on my arm. It was Katherine. "We'll come with you," she offered. "Barry can drive you home."

    "It's hours away. It's not even in the same direction."

    "That doesn't matter. It's not like we'll be sleeping, is it?"

    I hugged her to me and kissed her hair. Using the Ways I could be home within half an hour, whereas in the car it would be a long drive. I could use the time to think of something to say.

    "Thanks," I told her, then nodded to Barry. "Thank you."

"The least I can do," he said, shaking his head.

    The counsellor escorted us all the way to reception. He gave us a card with his contact details and said that we could call him night or day. He warned us that the next few days would be hard but that we would come through it. He told us to speak to our friends, our families and our loved ones and that they would help us come to terms with our loss. He asked if we were religious and offered to put us in touch with the chaplain for the school. He told us we might find some comfort with the other families that had lost their girls. It all sounded like good advice as it drifted past me like smoke. How could he possibly understand?

    The car journey was long and dark. Katherine sat in the front while Barry drove. They barely spoke to each other. I couldn't help wondering whether their relationship would survive this. It brought Katherine and me closer than we had been in years, whereas it placed a barrier between her and Barry that was going to be there for a long time. I wondered if he was strong and patient enough to deal with that. Katherine was right; he was a good man. Sometimes, though, that wasn't enough.

    The motorway lights streamed past like a pulse, echoed by the road noise. Barry drove and Katherine stared at the road ahead while I went through all the ways I could think of to tell Blackbird what happened. Most of the time I never got as far as saying it, even in my head. Just the thought of meeting her eyes with that knowledge in my heart was too painful. I shied away and began again until I felt numb with it. The pain was still there, knotting my gut and clamping my throat, but I was dead to it. I could no longer feel.