Godspeed Page 5

  Someone fumbled loudly with a key on the opposite side of the locked door. It took a moment for Quinn to process the sound, and when he did, he finally released my arm, but with a warning.

  “Don't do that again, or I'll have to put the restraints back on.” He moved toward the door and unlocked it from the inside, admitting a paler, much more worried version of Schuyler Algernon.

  Schuyler held a tray in his hands and dropped the keys he'd been struggling with. Exhausted though he was, Quinn's reflexes were still sharp, and he snatched them out of the air before they could clatter to the ground.

  For an instant my eyes met Schuyler's. It was difficult to ascertain, in that moment, which of the two of us was more afraid of what Quinn had done to me. Watching the last remaining drops of color drain away from his face, it seemed to me that he was.

  “Did you bring what I asked for?” Quinn demanded, as he unceremoniously jammed the keys back into the pocket of Schuyler's overcoat.

  Schuyler set the tray down upon the nearest clear surface and sighed. “I couldn't get it. Not without too many questions being asked.”

  “Damn it, Schuyler, I told you exactly what to say and where to go, what do you mean too many questions would be asked?”

  Schuyler reddened and stammered, clearly flustered. “I… I am considered to be a legitimate businessman in this city, Quinn. That might not mean anything to you, but it does mean that people take notice of what I do. I sell art and antiques. What use would I possibly have for an item like that?” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Quinn, whispering.

  Quinn backed up sharply and snapped at full volume, “I know! But there's little choice now, is there? I suppose there's no alternative but for me to obtain it myself.”

  He turned to me and shook his head. “Keep very still and try to rest while I'm gone. Do not touch those wires.”

  He grabbed his coat from a rack by the exit. He hurried, throwing in first one arm then the other, but again never bothering to do up the buttons. He scowled at Schuyler as he yanked the door open, yet it was to me once more that he spoke.

  “If you still pray, girl, pray that your heart does not stop again before I return.”

  Once the door slammed behind him, I finally spoke my first words since my alteration; amazed to find that I still sounded, at least, as though I was human.

  The faint glimmer of tears shone in Schuyler's eyes the moment he heard my response to Quinn's solemn admonition.

  “No one… would hear me.”

  CHAPTER 8

  THERE EXISTS A KIND OF SLEEP that one only finds when the worst sorts of pain finally begin to subside. It is a slumber that can be experienced no other way, and no alternate can ever be as welcome or as peaceful.

  It was that sort of sleep that held me fast; a safe, dreamless rest that continued until the moment I felt the curious sensation of what I was certain was the warmth of someone's breath upon my face.

  My eyes flew open and I gasped. The person hovering over me jumped back, nearly knocking over the table behind him in the process.

  It was neither Quinn nor Schuyler; this was a face I had never seen before.

  A tall young man shivered and quaked in his boots before me, apparently even more frightened of what he'd seen than I was.

  I jolted my body in an attempt to sit upright, surprised by the strength of the motion even as I found my progress impeded by the restraints that Quinn had left on me. He never let me sleep without them unless he was nearby, and not even then if he was particularly tired or distracted. He was too concerned that I would unknowingly reach up and in some half-dream state fatally wound myself by dislodging the wires that facilitated my tenuous connection to life in this world.

  I tried to speak to this stranger, but my voice was far too hoarse. As much as my hazy senses would allow, I took note of his appearance.

  He had sandy blond hair that hung in long, layered waves almost to his shoulders. His eyes were a bright jade green, and he was wearing simple tan pants and a tailored white shirt. Nowhere near as extravagantly dressed as I'd expect to see Schuyler or even Quinn by this point, but still obviously the boy was well tended and cared for.

  He rushed to the door and, in his haste to retreat, his fingers slipped from the knob and it took him three tries to actually grasp hold of and turn it.

  He placed a single finger to his lips, and his eyes pled with me not to betray that he had been here. Whoever he was, it was clear that he was harmless, and I had a feeling that it was just as well that I go along with his silent request not to reveal to anyone that I had seen him.

  We both gasped with fright as, just as he opened the door, a shadow appeared beyond it.

  Schuyler sighed with exasperation and immediately a hand gravitated to one hip. “For God's sake, what have you done?”

  The boy's head dropped down in shame, and Schuyler reached under his chin and lifted it gently until their eyes met. He regarded the penitent expression upon the boy's face, and the momentary anger that creased his brow evaporated as quickly as a summer rainstorm. “Well, you've finally seen what we've been hiding in here. Are you satisfied?”

  The boy shook his head up and down once as Schuyler's eyes moved toward mine. I begged him, in my way, not to be cross with the young man who had caused no injury to me at all.

  “Very well.” Schuyler sighed again, a different sort of a sound — one of resignation. “Do not make any more unannounced visits here, and whatever else you do, for Heaven's sake, do not let Godspeed know you have seen our guest.” He then gave the boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a gentle push away from the entrance to the laboratory.

  “What is that?” Schuyler asked. He nodded to me as if to say he would be right back and stepped outside with the boy.

  My ears barely picked up on exceptionally soft-spoken words, too difficult to make out from my location amidst the ticking clocks and machines that whirred and hummed all around me, even at lowest possible power. Then I heard Schuyler's reply spoken much more clearly — and the idea of the question that the boy had asked him brought a rising ache to my throat.

  “He does what he can to control her pain,” Schuyler said, before he added, “He does the best he can for her, as he does for us all.”

  I blinked back new tears, tainted liquid that stung and tasted bitterly of chemicals. How kind it was of the boy, having seen what had become of me, to consider that I might suffer.

  Schuyler returned to the room and approached me wearing a much brighter expression than he had a moment before. “No damage done, I suppose.”

  “Who… was that?”

  “A young friend.” He began rifling through a large, ornately decorated bag, the long strap of which was slung over his broad shoulder. “No one you need worry about. I assure you he poses no threat. He was merely curious.”

  “Of that… I am certain.” I tried to ask the next question that had been so much on my mind in as casual a manner as possible. “When is… Doctor Godspeed to… return?”

  Schuyler grinned now and widened his eyes playfully. “Lonely for him, are we?”

  Blood rushed to my face. I was certain it glowed with embarrassment.

  Schuyler laughed. “So am I. He's been gone too long. He should be back soon.” He looked down at me and shook his head with much the same sympathy as the first night we had met — a kind concern that never crossed the line and mutated into the condescension that was pity.

  “You poor thing. You've spent so much time on that table. We've tried to turn you, you know, in your sleep, after your… procedures.” His eyes flashed a myriad of conflicted feelings, and I wondered what turmoil dwelled within him. Like most strong emotions I had seen in him during my time here, this confusion was again replaced in an instant by a much more lighthearted look. “And here you are, still wearing a sheet.”

  I shuddered. I hadn't given any thought at all to what I was wearing. Most of the time I was covered in blankets, burning with such heat that I wis
hed I could immerse myself in water alone, as anything touching my skin only added a new dimension to my torment. I tried to lift myself up to see, but still I could not move.

  “I think we can take these off, can't we?” Schuyler asked.

  I was afraid that Quinn would be angry but Schuyler was already unbinding my hands and feet from the restraints that held me to the table. He rushed across the room, procured a richly upholstered pillow from a chair in the corner, and situated it behind me as he attempted to help me sit up, just a little.

  “There you are.”

  I looked down and blushed even more deeply to see that he had not been making a joke: I was actually wearing a sheet that had been pinned together at points, allowing, I was sure, the doctor access to the parts of me that he had renovated in order to keep my heart beating.

  I caught sight once more of the topmost arc of the wires threaded in and out of my chest. Then I glimpsed the incisions still healing around them and felt as if I might be sick.

  “Don't look.” Schuyler shook his head fiercely and caressed my face with a gentle stroke of his hand. “Not yet. It's too soon.” He looked at me with a concern that I did not feel due, and I wondered again why it was he had such a soft spot for me, a veritable stranger. I imagined the only explanation could be that his heart was so big, so warm and caring, that he would have room in it for the whole of the world, should he decide that they, too, were worth saving.

  “I have something much nicer for you to look at.” He smiled broadly and pulled an item out of his bag. “What do you think?”

  He was holding a garment, a beautiful, elegant blouse in the clearest shade of blue I had ever seen. It had buttons down the front and the collar was not so high as to be uncomfortable given my state, yet just enough to hide, it appeared, almost all of the external evidence of the wires.

  “It's the exact shade of your eyes,” he continued, obviously pleased by my expression as he displayed the gift. “I may not be able to do what Quinn does, but I am a wonder when it comes to color.”

  I thought of the scarlet room and nodded. “It is… really for me?”

  “Well it doesn't fit me. I know, I've already tried.” He winked at me, and I almost, but not quite, laughed at the thought. “There's more. Black skirt with lace petticoats, a vest that I will tailor to fit as soon as you can stand…”

  “You made these?” I marveled, forgetting myself and interrupting him. I looked at him apologetically and he tilted his head to show he forgave my youthful enthusiasm.

  “Well, you don't think I can just go out and buy a jacket like this, do you?” He held up the tails of the magnificent, sapphire blue velvet waistcoat he wore. He pivoted around and back again to show off the movement of the piece. “No one makes clothing like this, not even in Fairever. So I had to learn to make it myself. After all, we don't all want to wear black straight from the shop window like…”

  “Like I do.”

  Our heads snapped up, turning in unison toward the man now speaking, and I could have sworn that Schuyler's reaction was every bit the same as mine as Quinn appeared in the doorway.

  “Just so, sir,” Schuyler agreed, his manner becoming even more jovial. “Like you do. You really should wear more color, Quinn. Especially blue.” Schuyler held up the blouse and glanced back and forth between Quinn's face and the fabric. “Definitely blue.”

  Quinn scoffed and stepped forward, moving swiftly past Schuyler with a disregard that instantly stole the light from Schuyler's expression. “Yes, and the world would come to an end if our trousers weren't precisely cuffed,” Quinn muttered. “Clothing serves modesty, Schuyler. Fashion is but vain.”

  I winced seeing the pain in Schuyler's eyes, though more so at the fact that he turned quickly away so as to hide that hurt from Quinn.

  It was not as though Quinn would have taken note of it anyway, his full attention was fixed upon me. “You're sitting up. That is good to see.”

  I became even more acutely aware now of what I was not wearing. My arms shifted up and over my body, ridiculous though it was given that he'd obviously seen much more in caring for me than I wanted to entertain.

  “Before I let you dress her up like the porcelain doll you aim to make her, Schuyler, I must look her over and check her progress. I must also explain…” Quinn's voice turned much more burdened, along with his thoughts, and he paused.

  “Explain?” I asked.

  “What this is,” he whispered, waving vaguely toward the table behind him and the items upon it, in a way that prevented me from determining which ‘this’ he meant. “And exactly what it is that I've done to you.”

  Schuyler blanched. He shifted his weight from side to side with obvious discomfort. Quinn jerked his head in the direction of the door, wordlessly commanding his friend to depart through it.

  Schuyler folded the blouse with gentle, loving hands and restored it to its place in his bag. “I'll… go and press this for you. Then it'll be all ready as soon as you are.”

  I spoke grateful words in parting. “Thank you, sir.”

  Schuyler inclined his head to acknowledge my thanks, bowed slightly to Quinn, and then took his leave without another sound. The door closed behind him, and I sat in silence for a long moment as Quinn stared beyond me at the machinery to which I was still directly attached.

  He motioned toward a square metal object that rested on the table beside me. At the sight of it my nerves became raw, my first thoughts possessed of morbid curiosity as to just what fresh Hell this latest contraption would inflict upon my body.

  Before he could speak again, my heart sped up. Snatched away by fear, my breath deserted me. The room began to spin, and I slumped backward.

  Bells tolled a now familiar warning as Quinn leapt toward the controls; my heart had again abandoned its proper pace. It skipped, stuttered, and seemed to charge forward and attempt to beat backward, all at once. He cursed under his breath. His eyes grew cold and his expression turned to stone once more as he reached out to grasp hold of the switch I had learned most, by now, to hate.

  “I am sorry,” he said, as he had so many times before. He closed his eyes for an instant to try to conceal from me the frustration that was so clearly evident in them. Then he focused upon the panel again and with one swift motion, flipped the lever up.

  The charge in the frightful machinery began to build and I could feel the energy snapping and pinging all around me. My skin seemed charged with unnatural power. Every hair stood on end.

  My body jerked and after three such charges, the bells stopped. Quinn analyzed the readings, mopped at beads of sweat on his brow with the back of his hand, and sighed. I knew that meant my heart had again agreed, if only momentarily, to continue beating on.

  I took note that the shocks were not quite as painful now — or perhaps, I thought, I was just growing accustomed to the agony. Even so, tears I could not prevent spilled from the corners of my eyes and I looked away, trying to hide them despite the futility of the effort.

  Quinn pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed gently at my eyes before placing the cloth between my shaking fingers.

  “I will get you past this,” he whispered. “I give you my word.”

  I nodded, though even with my faith in his genius, it was becoming more and more difficult to believe.

  “I was about to explain what I have done, and what it is doing to you,” he said, as he pulled a tall stool up beside the table and wearily slumped down upon it. “Are you ready to know?”

  I did not know if anyone could ever be ready to receive such information, still I tried to answer as politely as I could. “Please.”

  “You have been connected, as I am certain you now realize, to machinery that has been working to regulate the cadence of your heartbeat,” he began, gesturing toward the wires on my chest but not touching them. “As I suspected, the problem with your heart is electrical in nature and so when it forgets how it is meant to beat, it needs a jolt of power to remind it.
These shocks have allowed me to keep you alive thus far. However…” His face went from infuriatingly unreadable to a deeply serious expression, and as his eyes pierced my own, I felt my breath stolen away for entirely different reasons than before.

  He was beautiful, by God, and the thoughts which forced themselves into my consciousness when I was this near to him were new, shocking, and more than I could allow myself to imagine. I closed my eyes in the attempt to force them from my mind, but the darkness only served to intensify them. I longed for him to take me into his arms as he had when he'd carried me. I ached even more for him to leave them there — to hold me.

  “We cannot continue to deliver bursts of such strong energy, or we will be doing as much harm as good. So I have crafted a device, heavy, cumbersome though it is, that will allow you at least a little movement and afford me a lot more control over the corrective charges your heart routinely requires. It is an improvement from your current state, and will free you from all this.” He gestured with open arms to the larger machines all around us.

  My hopes soared for an instant until they were once again clipped and cut; shot down to earth with definitive, sickening speed by his next statement. “It cannot last forever.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “I AM TO DIE, THEN?”

  He tilted his head thoughtfully and ran his hand back through his stubborn, silver hair.

  “We are all to die, girl. The question remains just when.” He frowned now and sat taller in his seat. “What I meant was that your heart cannot stand, even still, the continued jolts from this improved, less violent device. You need something so small, so intricate, and yet so dependable that it can fortify the strength of your heart to beat on without assaulting it in the attempt to render aid.” He waved beyond the machines to the bookshelves lining the far wall. “I am working on that. In the meantime, I hope you will gain strength, and I will have enough time to refine the device that will truly make you as well as you can possibly be.”