Read Online The Delicate Dependency: A Novel of the Vampire Life by Michael Talbot - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Talbot
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His smile returned. “... but come now, Dr. Gladstone, you seriously wouldn’t allow a patient to continue to refuse intravenous feeding without prescribing paraldehyde yourself, would you?”
“Well...” I stammered nervously. Of course I objected, but the last thing I wanted Cletus to know—anyone to know—was the fantastical belief I had allowed to take root in my mind. It was impossible, but for some unknown reason something within me asserted with increasing conviction that there was a linkage between the angel of my childhood and the helpless creature in the room beyond. It was not out of any fear over my own future and reputation that I wanted this absurd and desperate notion concealed. It was concern for him, the boy Hardwicke looked at me searchingly. “Something strange is going on, isn’t it?” His voice was self-assured, but I could tell he was merely fishing. “How much do you know about this Mr. Cavalanti, anyway?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, people just don’t exist without food.”
“Obviously not, Dr. Hardwicke. He must be secretively obtaining food and water—his secrecy due to his psychological condition. I have not previously prescribed paraldehyde because I never seriously entertained the notion that Mr. Cavalanti had survived eight days on absolutely nothing.” I looked at the internes and the nurses. My vision returned to the little man. “In the future I will thank you to follow respected and ethical medical procedure and consult me before you administer any treatment to one of my patients.”
With that I finished. Several of the internes began to nod slowly, appeased for the moment by my explanation, but Cletus simply glared. He had no retort, but he had read the meaning in my pause. He knew I was hiding something. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head as I turned the doorknob in its brass collar and entered the room. As usual the blinds were drawn and several bedsheets stretched tightly over each window kept all but a faint hint of sunlight from entering. According to Mr. Cavalanti’s directions the room was illuminated by two or three dozen candles arranged over the tables and ledges. It gave the room an almost ecclesiastical glow and in the midst of the flickering golden light rested the boy. Nature could not have chosen a creature more diametrically opposed to the man I had just left. The boy’s gentle face was flushed and beaded with perspiration. His hair was disheveled. An acrid trace of paraldehyde still lingered in the air.
He gave a terrified start as I entered and then sank back heavily against his pillow. “Oh, it’s you,” he gasped weakly. “I’d thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“I would never do that,” I said quickly. “I’m so terribly sorry about what happened.”
“I told you! I knew I shouldn’t have stayed here.” He turned toward me desperately; his eyes flashed. “Do you know how awful it was, me being helpless while those men held me down, and that little gremlin came at me with his furious eyes?”
For a moment I imagined this fragile boy thrashing wildly as the internes surrounded him, the candle flames flickering in the commotion. I could see Dr. Hardwicke hobbling about, leering with the satisfaction that he was only doing his duty as he plunged the hypodermic down and the angel emitted a pained and agonizing cry.
“What will the paraldehyde do to you?” I asked inquisitively.
“What does it do to you?”
“It would make me go into a very deep sleep.”
“It has made me sick, but I will not sleep.”
I nodded as I approached the bed and began to undo his bandages. He drew back at first, but then he huffed and relented. As I removed the gauze I discovered with a mixture of awe and expectation that the flesh had already bonded together. Miraculously, the discoloration had already started to fade, and only a faint pink line remained where I had made the incisions. “And the bones?” I asked.
“They have
“Well...” I stammered nervously. Of course I objected, but the last thing I wanted Cletus to know—anyone to know—was the fantastical belief I had allowed to take root in my mind. It was impossible, but for some unknown reason something within me asserted with increasing conviction that there was a linkage between the angel of my childhood and the helpless creature in the room beyond. It was not out of any fear over my own future and reputation that I wanted this absurd and desperate notion concealed. It was concern for him, the boy Hardwicke looked at me searchingly. “Something strange is going on, isn’t it?” His voice was self-assured, but I could tell he was merely fishing. “How much do you know about this Mr. Cavalanti, anyway?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, people just don’t exist without food.”
“Obviously not, Dr. Hardwicke. He must be secretively obtaining food and water—his secrecy due to his psychological condition. I have not previously prescribed paraldehyde because I never seriously entertained the notion that Mr. Cavalanti had survived eight days on absolutely nothing.” I looked at the internes and the nurses. My vision returned to the little man. “In the future I will thank you to follow respected and ethical medical procedure and consult me before you administer any treatment to one of my patients.”
With that I finished. Several of the internes began to nod slowly, appeased for the moment by my explanation, but Cletus simply glared. He had no retort, but he had read the meaning in my pause. He knew I was hiding something. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head as I turned the doorknob in its brass collar and entered the room. As usual the blinds were drawn and several bedsheets stretched tightly over each window kept all but a faint hint of sunlight from entering. According to Mr. Cavalanti’s directions the room was illuminated by two or three dozen candles arranged over the tables and ledges. It gave the room an almost ecclesiastical glow and in the midst of the flickering golden light rested the boy. Nature could not have chosen a creature more diametrically opposed to the man I had just left. The boy’s gentle face was flushed and beaded with perspiration. His hair was disheveled. An acrid trace of paraldehyde still lingered in the air.
He gave a terrified start as I entered and then sank back heavily against his pillow. “Oh, it’s you,” he gasped weakly. “I’d thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“I would never do that,” I said quickly. “I’m so terribly sorry about what happened.”
“I told you! I knew I shouldn’t have stayed here.” He turned toward me desperately; his eyes flashed. “Do you know how awful it was, me being helpless while those men held me down, and that little gremlin came at me with his furious eyes?”
For a moment I imagined this fragile boy thrashing wildly as the internes surrounded him, the candle flames flickering in the commotion. I could see Dr. Hardwicke hobbling about, leering with the satisfaction that he was only doing his duty as he plunged the hypodermic down and the angel emitted a pained and agonizing cry.
“What will the paraldehyde do to you?” I asked inquisitively.
“What does it do to you?”
“It would make me go into a very deep sleep.”
“It has made me sick, but I will not sleep.”
I nodded as I approached the bed and began to undo his bandages. He drew back at first, but then he huffed and relented. As I removed the gauze I discovered with a mixture of awe and expectation that the flesh had already bonded together. Miraculously, the discoloration had already started to fade, and only a faint pink line remained where I had made the incisions. “And the bones?” I asked.
“They have
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