Read Online The Delicate Dependency: A Novel of the Vampire Life by Michael Talbot - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Talbot
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already set,” he replied. “It will be a day or two before they’re healed completely, but I could walk on them if it meant my life.” He fumbled for the gold pillbox and popped one of the shiny black pills into his mouth.
“You won’t be very safe here after this incident,” I conceded. “As soon as my colleagues ponder the implications of your surviving their massive dose of paraldehyde, they’ll be hack. A few of the more noble ones might bring needles and scalpels, but most of them—” I stopped abruptly as I heard the floorboards creak outside the door. I imagined Dr. Hardwicke just happening to drop a cigarette near the keyhole and stooping to pick it up. My young friend glared intently at the open transom.
“Most of them will be medieval,” he said in a hushed and distraught voice. “You don’t know how they’ll be, but I’ve had to deal with this sort of thing before. Anything that people don’t understand, they fear; and anything people fear, they hate. You’ll see a side of—” He was becoming so anxious and frightened I had to gesture for him to be quiet.
He lowered his eyes as I walked over to the night table. “I’m a transgression,” he continued as he shook his head slowly and drifted off into silence.
While he was distracted in his thoughts I carefully slipped one of the black pills out of the little gold pillbox and placed it in my pocket.
“Niccolo,” I said abruptly. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and curious when he realized I had called him by his first name. “Are you sure your legs are healed enough that you could walk a little?”
He nodded slowly.
“Well, then, when I come back on my evening rounds,’” I whispered quietly, “I’ll bring you one of the interne’s uniforms. At ten o’clock sharp the nurses change shift and for a few moments no one will be paying much attention to your door. If you slip out then I’m sure you could make it to the back receiving door undetected.”
He gazed at me unbelievingly as I sketched him a map of the hospital.
“I’ll have a carriage waiting for you there,” I ended. “Do you think your legs are strong enough for you to make it that far?”
He nodded yes.
I shook my head with amazement. “Even if you do arouse a little suspicion, no one would dare consider that the unusual young patient in room 214 could be walking on his own accord for many months to come.” I glanced once again at his legs.
“ Dottore ,” he said incredulously, “why should you alone be so different? Why are you doing this for me?”
“Let’s just say I’m trying to make some amends,” I returned as I stood to leave. I reached for his hand and he drew back reluctantly, as if for some inexplicable reason he did not want me to shake it. His eyes met mine as I clenched his hand reassuringly. The poor dear boy was so flushed with worry his hand was actually cool to the touch.
That afternoon I went to a chemist’s I frequented on Piccadilly, and waited for the tall, thin wren of a fellow to come from the back room. The shop itself was dark and brooding with walls cluttered to the ceiling with boxes, bottles, and apothecary jars filled with every imaginable pill and tonic. A row of stuffed birds lined the perimeter of the ceiling, and two immense mirrors in Chinese frames behind the counter gave it an illusion of space.
“Good day to ya, Dr. Gladstone,” the shopkeeper greeted when he appeared. “Peevish weather we’re havin’.”
“Peevish, indeed, Mr. Sedgemoor. I wonder if you might oblige me in a rather unusual request.”
I laid the shiny black pill on the counter. “One of my patients is taking this medication, and refuses to tell me what they are. I was wondering if you could try to track it down for me?”
“There won’t be any problem in that, Dr. Gladstone,” he replied. “Of course, if it’s a home remedy and not in any formularies, it might take a couple of weeks to test it.”
“Whatever,” I returned.
“You won’t be very safe here after this incident,” I conceded. “As soon as my colleagues ponder the implications of your surviving their massive dose of paraldehyde, they’ll be hack. A few of the more noble ones might bring needles and scalpels, but most of them—” I stopped abruptly as I heard the floorboards creak outside the door. I imagined Dr. Hardwicke just happening to drop a cigarette near the keyhole and stooping to pick it up. My young friend glared intently at the open transom.
“Most of them will be medieval,” he said in a hushed and distraught voice. “You don’t know how they’ll be, but I’ve had to deal with this sort of thing before. Anything that people don’t understand, they fear; and anything people fear, they hate. You’ll see a side of—” He was becoming so anxious and frightened I had to gesture for him to be quiet.
He lowered his eyes as I walked over to the night table. “I’m a transgression,” he continued as he shook his head slowly and drifted off into silence.
While he was distracted in his thoughts I carefully slipped one of the black pills out of the little gold pillbox and placed it in my pocket.
“Niccolo,” I said abruptly. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and curious when he realized I had called him by his first name. “Are you sure your legs are healed enough that you could walk a little?”
He nodded slowly.
“Well, then, when I come back on my evening rounds,’” I whispered quietly, “I’ll bring you one of the interne’s uniforms. At ten o’clock sharp the nurses change shift and for a few moments no one will be paying much attention to your door. If you slip out then I’m sure you could make it to the back receiving door undetected.”
He gazed at me unbelievingly as I sketched him a map of the hospital.
“I’ll have a carriage waiting for you there,” I ended. “Do you think your legs are strong enough for you to make it that far?”
He nodded yes.
I shook my head with amazement. “Even if you do arouse a little suspicion, no one would dare consider that the unusual young patient in room 214 could be walking on his own accord for many months to come.” I glanced once again at his legs.
“ Dottore ,” he said incredulously, “why should you alone be so different? Why are you doing this for me?”
“Let’s just say I’m trying to make some amends,” I returned as I stood to leave. I reached for his hand and he drew back reluctantly, as if for some inexplicable reason he did not want me to shake it. His eyes met mine as I clenched his hand reassuringly. The poor dear boy was so flushed with worry his hand was actually cool to the touch.
That afternoon I went to a chemist’s I frequented on Piccadilly, and waited for the tall, thin wren of a fellow to come from the back room. The shop itself was dark and brooding with walls cluttered to the ceiling with boxes, bottles, and apothecary jars filled with every imaginable pill and tonic. A row of stuffed birds lined the perimeter of the ceiling, and two immense mirrors in Chinese frames behind the counter gave it an illusion of space.
“Good day to ya, Dr. Gladstone,” the shopkeeper greeted when he appeared. “Peevish weather we’re havin’.”
“Peevish, indeed, Mr. Sedgemoor. I wonder if you might oblige me in a rather unusual request.”
I laid the shiny black pill on the counter. “One of my patients is taking this medication, and refuses to tell me what they are. I was wondering if you could try to track it down for me?”
“There won’t be any problem in that, Dr. Gladstone,” he replied. “Of course, if it’s a home remedy and not in any formularies, it might take a couple of weeks to test it.”
“Whatever,” I returned.
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