by SA Magnusson
“At least give her something to take the edge off,” Derek said.
She was writhing on the bed, and it would make whatever we would have to do incredibly difficult, if not impossible. I didn’t know how long I’d be able to maintain my focus with her like this.
“Fine. Give her a milligram of Ativan.”
Derek nodded and hurried out of the room, leaving me alone with Ms. Jones.
There weren’t many patients I felt uncomfortable around. When I was first learning medicine and still in the early days of understanding what it took to be a doctor, I had felt uncomfortable, but then, everyone did a little. That faded pretty quickly, especially once I got into residency and had to manage patients all on my own. Now there were only a few types of patients that I didn’t feel completely comfortable around, mostly those who were violent. I didn’t have the sense that she was violent, but still I felt uneasy around her.
It was the magic.
Everything in my body warned me against it. Were I not so tired, I would probably take time to understand why it was that I felt so off when it came to the magic that affected her, but in my current condition, I didn’t have enough focus for that. Whatever focus I did have was needed to help this woman.
“What happened?” I asked, forcing myself to take a step closer to her. She was in cuffs, locked to the cot, and there wasn’t any way that she was going to be able to escape without significant help. I wasn’t in any danger.
Knowing that didn’t make it any easier for me to approach.
“What did they do to your son?”
Maybe I’d been wrong about Tony and he wasn’t a dark mage, but if that were true, what had happened to him? I hadn’t been able to reverse it, which meant that if the same thing had been done to her, it would be unlikely for me to be able to reverse that, too.
She screamed again and I winced, unable to help myself.
As the scream faded, she looked over at me. Her jaw clenched with the effort she expended trying to focus on me. “You should go before they come. They’ll learn you’re involved and if they do…”
Her body started to contort. It was something like a convulsion and strong enough that it doubled her over. The pain had to be tied to whatever the dark mages had done to her, which told me that it wasn’t anything physical.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
I glanced at the door to see if Derek was coming with the Ativan; I had to do something. There wasn’t the time to spend debating about how much I’d help her. I simply had to help.
That meant magic.
And it meant reaching into the depths of my potentially demon magic and using it even with a tired mind. Seeing her suffering like this was reason enough to try. It had to be.
I needed to find my empathy. After nearly missing the sinus tumor, I couldn’t afford to remain jaded. I couldn’t afford to remain scared. Whatever was happening to her was something I could fix.
And given my connection to both medicine and magic, I might be the only one who could. Wasn’t that a reason to try?
Taking her hand, knowing that a physical connection would make it easier, I reached for the power buried deep within me, knotted up, stuffed down so that it couldn’t escape without my permission. At least, not most of the time. Since meeting Aron, that magic had taken on a life of its own.
Ms. Jones continued to thrash, her body twisting on the bed. At least the screaming seemed to have eased, though she looked as if she would resume screaming at a moment’s notice. Sweat dripped from her brow, leaving her skin glistening.
My magic came up slowly, as if it were molasses that I pulled through my veins. I wanted to scream and figured I probably could, as it would just be thought to be coming from Ms. Jones, but I gritted my teeth instead.
The magic flowing through her pulsed against my own. I pushed out with my magic, wishing I knew spells or some way of controlling my magic rather than the blunt force I typically operated with. If I could use more typical mage spells, I might be able to actually help her.
Whatever afflicted her was similar to Tony’s.
There was a quality to it that I recognized. It was a blurring, as if whatever had been done wrapped around her, intending to erase a part of her.
When I’d worked on Tony, there was the sense that I could peel away what had happened to him. This had much the same sense, but the strength that had gone into the attack on Ms. Jones was more than what had been used on Tony. As much as I wanted to try and peel away the magic, like drawing back the layers of an onion, there didn’t seem to be a way for me to do it.
The door opened behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. Dr. Allen entered.
He frowned when he saw me holding Ms. Jones’s hand. Did he feel the magic I used? Worse, could he see it? I didn’t think so and didn’t think anyone not connected to magic would be able to know what I was doing, but the way he studied me left me questioning for a moment.
“I’m Dr. Allen,” he started, stepping forward toward Ms. Jones.
She used that moment to scream again. Her body began to thrash, twisting on the cot. Her arm strained against one of the cuffs, drawing a line of blood where it dug into her flesh. I squeezed her other hand, holding it so that she didn’t pull so hard that she ripped her arm off.
“She’s been like this for a little while,” I said. I explained to him how she’d come from the police, motioning to the handcuffs, and how she’d screamed for a while since I’d come into the room because of what had happened to her son. That was near enough to the truth that it was believable. “I had Derek get a little Ativan to help her relax.”
“You think this is all part of a mental health problem?” Dr. Allen asked.
“I haven’t had a chance to fully evaluate her. She was alert enough for me to question when she first got her, and now she’s like this.”
“What would be in your differential diagnosis?”
This was the part of residency that I didn’t care for, especially as I had a pretty good idea of what we were dealing with, even if I couldn’t say that to Dr. Allen. I had to focus on what had brought her to the ER in the first place, even if that meant that I might end up revealing that I hadn’t worked her up as quickly as I should have. “She presented with a headache and aura.”
“How old is she?”
“Fifties.”
“First migraine?”
“From the way it sounds. I was taking her history when she became unresponsive like this.” At least it would look like I was trying to console her, not ignoring her pain. And I wasn’t ignoring her pain, but I still needed to figure out what sort of magical attack had been used on her. I could feel the magic pressing against me, especially with the way I held onto my magic. If Dr. Allen had given me a little longer, I might have managed to determine what was affecting her.
“And you thought to simply comfort her?” Dr. Allen stepped over to the computer and logged in. “The change in status doesn’t alarm you?”
“There’s nothing to suggest trauma to explain this. We have no reason to believe there’s anything else physically wrong with her. And she was fully alert and answering questions only a few moments ago.”
He glanced back at me. “You said she was brought in by the police?”
I nodded. “They left her.”
“It’s possible that something could have happened when they were transporting her. It wouldn’t be the first time officers became a little overly assertive in corralling someone, especially here.”
I didn’t realize that Dr. Allen had such a negative view of the police. Considering how much we interacted with them, and how hard we knew them to work, it surprised me. “I don’t think this is police violence,” I said.
He finished at the computer and stepped to the head of the cot, lifting Ms. Jones’s head. She strained against him more than I expected, but she still hadn’t said anything that indicated she was awake or alert.
Dr. Allen twisted her head from side to side, exam
ining it. I looked over his shoulder but didn’t see anything suspicious. There wasn’t any sign of bruising or swelling, and I would have expected her to have said something to me if there would have been an injury during the police transport.
“I don’t see any sign of trauma, but if there’s bleeding or any other cause for ICP, the CT I ordered will pick it up.”
Even as he said it, I knew he was right. I should have thought through things more carefully, looked for signs of increased intracerebral pressure. It fit her symptoms. I’d let my belief that this was a magical attack take away from the evaluation I knew I should be doing. There were plenty of causes that weren’t magical.
But when she went to CT, I would lose any chance at trying to pull away the magic I felt working within her. And if I did, there was a good probability that whatever spell that affected her would finish. And then what would happen to her?
I didn’t know.
Worse, I could tell the spell still evolved, even if I couldn’t exactly tell what had happened to her. Since I didn’t believe it had been done by the council, it left me thinking this was tied to the Dark Council. And if this was dark magic, then shouldn’t one of the knights have noticed and come?
I needed to reach Gramps. He would know if there was something the council could offer. It violated federal regulations, but then maybe the use of magic did too. I wasn’t entirely certain how much of the magical world was known by those in power, but I doubted it was very much at all. That would have to make breaking HIPAA less of an issue if it helped Ms. Jones.
“Derek should be here with the Ativan to help calm her for it,” I said.
Where was he? It was taking too long for him to get here, and it wasn’t like Derek to ignore a patient in need, especially since he knew there was a magical involvement.
Dr. Allen continued his exam, ignoring me.
I used that opportunity to step out into the hall. Separating from Ms. Jones made it harder for me to use my magical connection to her, but I was still aware of the magic coursing through her, even with the door closed. Besides, there wasn’t anything I could do to help her, not with my magical connection. Trying to use my magic with her had proven that I didn’t have nearly enough of an understanding of my magic to help her.
Jane hurried along the hall toward one of the other exam rooms and I grabbed her arm. “Have you seen Derek?”
She shook her head. “He was at the Pyxis, but I haven’t seen him since. If I weren’t helping Dr. Roberts…”
I waved her away. I didn’t want her to risk Roberts, either, but now that I thought about how long Derek had been gone, I couldn’t help but feel a little worried. It was possible that he’d been sidetracked by an attending, but then, Derek wouldn’t have stayed away that long, especially since he knew there was something magical taking place in Room 7.
Hurrying down to the nurses station, I quickly surveyed to see if he was there, but saw no sign of him. “Val, have you seen Derek? I’d asked him to grab some Ativan for the patient in Seven, but he’s been gone for a while.”
Val shook her head, barely looking up from the computer where she tapped away at her note. “Haven’t seen him since the two of you went off to evaluate her. What’s she got, anyway?”
“Probably nothing,” I muttered, looking around the ER. Why was there such an anxious feeling rolling through me all of a sudden?
The chill along my spine. That was why.
Death.
When I felt it, I couldn’t help but feel unsettled. Most of the time, I made certain to get involved with whatever patient might be affected, but I didn’t think I could get there in time. Someone else would have to work through the patient who was dying. I wasn’t the only ER doctor here, even if I made a point of trying to be there with every patient who died.
“Hey, if you see him, remind him to log out of the computer before going down to a patient room. You know how IT gets if you don’t do that…”
I turned away from her, ignoring the rest of what she said. While I understood the need for security, all the logging in all day grew annoying. Everyone tried to leave their computer logged in if they were only going to be away for a moment.
One of the housekeepers, an older man named Lawrence, pushed a cart filled with bedding through the hall.
“Hey, Lawrence. Have you seen Derek?”
Lawrence looked over, a broad smile on his face. He usually smiled, flashing his three missing teeth, and shook his head. “Nah, Doc. I haven’t seen him. Anything you want me to tell him if I do?”
I shook my head, turning away from Lawrence for a moment before turning back to him. “Have you seen anything different this morning?” I asked. The housekeepers often saw things that others didn’t. Most didn’t pay any attention to them, but without their work making sure the rooms were cleaned, the ER wouldn’t flow nearly as well as it did. “Anyone who shouldn’t be back here?”
I didn’t like the idea of that happening and didn’t think I’d missed anything, but if the Dark Council was involved, there was the chance that they would go on the offensive. It wouldn’t be the first time the hospital was attacked.
Not the hospital. Me. I’d been attacked here, a place where I should be safe and able to help those in need. The dark mages wanting to raise the demon king had come here, and if the guy who had come after we’d helped Tony had been a part of the Dark Council, they already knew how to find me.
“There’s always strange stuff that comes through here,” Lawrence said with his loopy smile. “I get used to it, and I try not to make nothing of it.”
“Well, thanks.” It was worth a shot, even if Lawrence hadn’t noticed anything.
Maybe the chill along my spine was nothing. And maybe I was wrong about Ms. Jones. While it could have been a dark magic attack, maybe it wasn’t related.
Then again, I had a hard time believing that.
Checking the lounge to make sure Derek hadn’t stopped in there, I made a circuit of the ER before ending up back outside of Room 7. I listened for a moment, double checking that Derek hadn’t returned while I was gone, but didn’t hear anything that would indicate he was in there.
I pushed the door open just a little.
Ms. Jones was gone.
Had they taken her to CT already? That would be fast for radiology, especially on a weekday. And where was Dr. Allen?
I paused at the next room, peeking inside. There he was with Dr. Roberts, talking to an elderly man lying with his gown open and his chest exposed. They spoke loud enough for me to hear through the door.
“You’re filling up with fluid,” Dr. Allen practically shouted. “As you get older, your heart doesn’t pump as well as it used to. We have to keep you in the hospital to help get rid of that fluid and run some more tests.”
Heart failure. That was the other patient that Derek had wanted me to see. The man was obviously hard of hearing, so that would have been a fun visit too.
If Allen wasn’t with Ms. Jones, then maybe she really had gone off to radiology, though I found it difficult to believe they would have managed to get her so quickly.
Another burst of cold surged along my spine.
It wasn’t magic. If it was, I thought I might manage better. This was the cold grip of death.
Worse, it was potent.
Most of the time death squeezed my spine, it was cold and nauseating, but not incapacitating. This time, it struck me and doubled me over, forcing me to fight against the urge to vomit. I’d felt a powerful connection like this before, but that had been when demons had attacked knights. I hadn’t given much thought to it at the time, but I suspected that magic users influenced my connection to death.
Could that mean a magic user was dying?
I forced myself to stand, wiping my arm across my mouth. Hold on and don’t vomit. There were enough rumors about me the way it was that I didn’t need any others getting out, especially not if they’d claim I was pregnant. Dr. Locks had enjoyed spreading that rumor.
“CODE BLUE, RADIOLOGY. CODE BLUE, RADIOLOGY.”
The overhead intercom jolted me into action. Radiology meant Ms. Jones.
Shit.
Was I already too late?
At least I wouldn’t get the blame for her. Dr. Allen had been with her last, so if anyone would have recognized what was happening, it should be one of the attendings.
Racing toward radiology, I followed the stream of nurses and one of the interns through the door. I wasn’t the tallest of people, but I could see we were heading toward one of the CT suites.
I pushed forward. Most of the nurses let me past, though a few glared at me. To some of the older nurses, I was just a resident, even if I was known for jumping into traumas.
“What happened?” I asked when I reached the CT room, fighting to ignore the cold along my spine and the nearly overwhelming sense of nausea pushing through me. Ms. Jones lay on the cot, unmoving.
As I asked, I knew what happened. Dr. Allen had been right. Too much pressure in the brain. That was what he’d been looking for with the CT, and my intent to focus on magic had detracted from finding some other way of helping her.
A CT scanner was little more than a narrow bed that slid through a massive ring shaped like an enormous donut. It was open, so those with claustrophobia didn’t have to suffer the same way they would in an MRI, and it was fast, which made it ideal for ruling out head bleeds—the reason Dr. Allen had ordered it.
One of the techs, dressed in her purple scrubs to indicate the radiology department, shook her head. “I don’t know. We started her through the machine and she just arrested.”
I checked for a pulse, not surprised there wasn’t one. “Val. Help with CPR.”
Val stepped up to the cot and started compressions. One of the other nurses grabbed an oral airway, placing it before she began bagging her, giving her breaths.
“This your patient?” Val asked between compressions.
