Jamie

by I D Johnson

  Chapter 6

  Boston, Massachusetts, USA, 1885

  The wagon came to a stop in front of their house, and James gathered Margie up, leaping out before the driver even had a chance to put the tailgate down. He yelled his thanks over his shoulder and rushed to the porch, screaming for his father to open the door as he approached.

  The door flew open, but it wasn’t his father there at first, it was Sadie. “Oh, Lort!” she exclaimed. “What’s happened?”

  James didn’t have the time to stop and explain. He carried Margie into the parlor and lay her down gently on the sofa. He heard footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder to see his parents staring in disbelief. “Get your medical bag!” he ordered and then returned his attention to his sister. James carried no medical bag, since he only practiced at the hospital, but their father still did house calls from time to time, and he had one on-hand.

  Margie’s eyes were closed, and James noticed bruising all around them. Her limbs were still positioned oddly, and a bone protruded from her left leg right above the knee. That wasn’t the worst of his worries, however. He knew her skull was fractured. He needed his father’s stethoscope so he could better determine what was going on internally.

  Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw his father still standing there, panic in his eyes. His mother was behind him, crying hysterically, held back by Sadie who also had tears rolling down her cheeks. “Father!” James shouted. “Go get your medical bag!”

  As if startled out of a dream, Wallace slowly began to nod, and a few seconds later, he bolted out of the room. James hoped he’d be back in time for the pair of them to determine what they could do for Margie, if anything.

  He knew he couldn’t help her if he let his emotions get in the way; right now, this wasn’t his older sister, the one who’d tormented him nearly every day of his life, the one who teased him and called him a baby, the one he loved dearly and couldn’t imagine living without. No, for now, this was just a female patient in need of his assistance.

  As soon as the elder Dr. Joplin returned, James opened the bag and pulled out the stethoscope. “I need towels, sheets. You know?” He caught his father’s eyes, and he blinked twice before nodding and disappearing again. James pressed the stethoscope to his sister’s heart and picked up a faint, slow timbre. He checked her lungs, and they appeared clear, though her breathing was shallow. Under the circumstances, he had no idea how she was still alive.

  Once his father was back with the towels and a few sheets, he took the clean linens and timidly lifted Margie’s head off of his blood-soaked shirt. The sight was ghastly. Her skull was misshapen, and large clots of blood clung to her blonde hair. A fresh wail echoed from the doorway, and he realized his mother didn’t need to see this. “Sadie, please, get her out of here.”

  He heard his mother protesting as Sadie dragged her out of the room. Felicity was screaming for her daughter, and James thought if sheer will could heal, his sister would be up dancing around the room now. But he knew it couldn’t, and he honestly had no idea how to put back together a broken skull.

  “Water,” he said to his father, who had been tearing up the sheets. Again, there was a pause, but he didn’t move his eyes from Margie’s skull to see if his father was blinking once more. Footsteps retreating told him Wallace had complied.

  Fresh blood still trickled from the wound, and James used the towel to put pressure on it, trying to get it to stop, but it was difficult to see exactly where it was coming from with such a bloody mess in the way. He hoped the water would help him clean it, but in the meantime, he set the towel down and began to carefully feel Margie’s skull with his fingers.

  As soon as he touched the first jagged break in her cranium, a strange sensation shot through his body, similar to what he’d noticed when he’d been running so fast. But this was different—more intense. It was a surge of power and energy like nothing he had ever felt before, not even when he’d once accidentally shocked himself with static electricity.

  Despite the uncomfortable sensation, James continued to trace the outline of the break, feeling for where the bones might be broken. Eventually, he found the place in Margie’s skull where the majority of the blood was coming from. His father returned with the water, and he dipped one of the clean bands of sheet into it, using it to wipe away some of the blood. He also dragged the cloth along the line he’d traced with his fingers. As he did so, James noticed something incredible. While there was now a thick line, almost like a scar, the break was hardly visible. The skull seemed even now, where only seconds before, it had been jagged and broken.

  “What in the world?” he muttered.

  “What is it?” his father asked.

  Since he had not been in the room to see what it had looked like, or felt like anyway, before, James didn’t know how to explain it. “It’s like it’s healed—already.”

  “What?” Wallace asked again.

  “Her skull. It was fractured. Now… it’s not.”

  “How can that be?”

  It was a legitimate question, and one for which James had no answer. However, seeing as though he knew what method he had used the last time that led to this noted change, he decided to do it again. This time, he rested the palm of his hand carefully on the spot on Margie’s head that was still bleeding. He felt the surge of energy leave his hand. It felt different this time, as if it was draining his own resources in order to fix her, and he supposed it was because the wound was so much larger than the last one had been, but as he drew his hand away, the evidence was there; the hole was gone, and she was no longer bleeding.

  “Dear God,” Wallace Joplin declared, staggering backward a few steps. “How did you…”

  “I have no idea,” James admitted. Deciding he’d better hurry and see what else he could accomplish before whatever this strange power was decided to leave him, he traced the rest of her skull and then moved his attention to her limbs. With the precision of a surgeon, James set each of Margie’s fractures and watched in amazement as the bone in her leg not only returned to its place, but the skin regenerated over the wound, leaving nothing but a small red mark.

  By the time James had accomplished all of that, he was nearing exhausted. He had been tired before in his life, particularly after a long shift in the hospital, but this was something else entirely.

  Margie’s breathing was much deeper now, and a check of her heartbeat revealed it was also much stronger. However, that trail of blood coming from her mouth was an indication that she had internal damage. How could he fix that if he couldn’t see it, and he couldn’t touch it? He could take her into surgery, open her up, and hope to find the source of the bleeding, but that would take more time than they had now. She could die before they even got her to the hospital, and he might pass out from exhaustion.

  Deciding there was only one thing left to do, James untucked her shirtwaist began to feel around her abdomen, just as he might if he was examining her for an injury, but this time, he did it slowly, praying that wherever his hands touched, if there was a rupture, they could somehow heal it.

  His father watched, not speaking, not moving. James couldn’t remember ever seeing their father so helpless, but he supposed he couldn’t blame him. He had no idea what it might be like to see your child so broken, and he hadn’t given himself a chance to think of Margie as anything other than female victim number one.

  After his initial pass over her internal organs, James intended to feel around one more time, but by then, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He felt like he might slump onto the floor at any moment. Margie’s eyes darted around from time to time, though they didn’t open, and he could see her breathing now. He prayed he’d done enough, as he knew there wasn’t going to be anything else he could do for his sister just now.

  As if his father had just noticed the state he was in, he said, “James, whatever is the matter with you? Are you injured, too?”

  “No,” James stammered, not sure he could
get all of the words out. “Whatever is healing her is depleting me.” With those words, he felt himself slipping off of the edge of the sofa where he’d been perched next to his sister, and the last thing he felt were strong arms around him before he blacked out.

  Chapter 7

  Boston, Massachusetts, USA, 1885

  “Are you going to sleep all day, Baby Jamie?” The annoying voice was accompanied by the sound of a pillow striking the headboard near his own crown, and if he hadn’t been so completely exhausted, he might’ve jumped out of the bed and chased her out of the room.

  Thoughts of what had transpired last time his eyes were open brought a flood of questions. Was that Margie’s voice, and if so, how was that possible? Hadn’t he left her crumpled on the sofa downstairs?

  Tentatively, James opened one eye and peered out into his room. It was her, all right, sitting on the foot of his bed, looking as bright as the day. The room was also quite sunny, and he wondered what time it was. Perhaps everything he thought had transpired was just a bad dream.

  Rubbing his eyes, he rolled over and dragged himself up into sitting. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I’ve come to see how you’re doing. You can’t sleep all day, not on a day like this.”

  At first the meaning of her words was lost on him, but then he remembered today was her birthday. She was twenty-two. Why, then, was so she incredibly obnoxious, like a child? “Happy birthday. Now get out.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “But that’s not why today is such a marvelous day. Don’t you remember what happened last night, little brother?”

  James yawned, realizing his mouth was sticky, his throat dry. He looked around the room to see if there might be a glass of water anywhere but didn’t see any. “What are you talking about?” he asked, returning his gaze to her.

  Margie was dressed in a mauve colored sweater set with long black trousers on. They were wide-legged, so they might look like a skirt, but they were trousers nonetheless. Her hair was pulled back in some sort of a curly bun, messy but out of her way. With a glowing complexion unlike anything he’d ever seen before, she smiled at him. “You must recall how we chased the Vampire last night, how I got hit by the trolley, and how you saved me. Surely, that hasn’t slipped your mind, even though you’ve been sleeping for nearly fourteen hours.”

  “Fourteen hours?” James repeated. A glance at the clock on the wall confirmed it was nearly 10:00 in the morning. “Dear, God. I’m late for my shift.”

  “Don’t worry. Father went to the hospital for you. He told them he’d cover for you. Said you weren’t feeling well. And I imagine you’re not. My arms and legs have been aching all day. I bet yours are, too. Uncle Culpepper said that’s to be expected, and that it will only get worse if we don’t get the injection straight away.”

  She was talking so quickly, he was having trouble keeping up. The part about his father covering his shift made him sigh in relief, but everything else seemed like gibberish. But then, how could she know about his dream? “Did you say, Vampire?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course I did. I had no idea you could do that magical healing bit, but I’m glad you can. Uncle Culpepper said that will come in most handy. He said he’s never seen anything like it before in all of his days, and that’s a lot of days.”

  “Uncle Culpepper is here? Now?” James hadn’t seen their uncle in so long, he was shocked to hear he’d shown up out of the blue. But then, it was Margie’s birthday.

  Before she could answer, footsteps sounded outside of the door. A moment later, Felicity stuck her head in. “Margie, I told you not to wake him. He needs his rest.”

  “He needs his rest? I’m the one who nearly died a few hours ago.” She crossed her arms, pouting.

  “And you’re fine today, thanks to your brother. Now, go downstairs.”

  Margie looked as if she might protest, but then, she stood and began to walk to the door. Before she reached it, she turned back to face James. “Anyway, thank you Jamie. For saving me. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. Don’t think I don’t know—or appreciate it. You are the best little brother a girl could have, even if you’re a big cry baby.” She winked at him and slipped past her mother into the hallway who called her name as if to reprimand her for being rude, but James couldn’t help but laugh. No one could apologize in quite the same way as Margie.

  “How are you, darling?” his mother asked as she crossed over and sat down next to him. She felt his forehead, like any mother would. “Are you feeling better? Do you need more rest?”

  James actually felt more refreshed than he had for a while, although his throat was parched. And to a degree, he could still feel the energy Margie spoke of running through his extremities. It didn’t hurt; it wasn’t even unpleasant. But it was a strange sensation, nevertheless. “I believe I’m all right now, thank you.”

  “Good. When Uncle Culpepper brought you upstairs last night, I thought you might never wake up. I wasn’t able to rouse you even to change you into your bedclothes.”

  James glanced down and noticed he was wearing the bedclothes she spoke of. His mother shrugged. “I managed.”

  Shaking his head, James asked, “Did you say Uncle Culpepper brought me upstairs?”

  “Yes, he walked in just as you fell off of the sofa, he said. He told us he thinks whatever power you used to save Marjorie drained all of your energy. He assured us you would be fine in the morning, though none of us thought you’d sleep quite this long.”

  The words his mother spoke made sense, and her tone was matter-of-fact, but none of it was truly registering with him. It sounded like the same sort of silly nonsense his sister had been prattling on about for years. But it wasn’t a fanciful young woman speaking these words; it was his wise and experienced mother. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mother. Then… you’re of the opinion…. That is, you also agree with Margie in that… we actually… That is to say….”

  “Jamie, darling, you did chase a Vampire last night. I’m certain of it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to do the things you did to save your sister. Unfortunately, both of you triggered the Transformation process while doing so, and while Uncle Culpepper says that sometimes it will go away on its own if you don’t make some sort of an effort to turn it on, chances are that there’s nothing you can do to prevent the full metamorphosis from taking place. He also said that, with your particular skill, it is even more unlikely you can stop it.” She hung her head low, as if she was lamenting the fact that her children would now change into something she’d done her best to protect them from for several years.

  The information was difficult to process. His own body was telling him it was true, but he didn’t want it to be. “Well, I won’t,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t want to. I won’t do it.”

  Felicity looked up and caught his eyes. “What’s that, darling?”

  “I said, I won’t do it. I don’t want to.”

  “Dear, just because you go through the process doesn’t mean that you have to go chasing Vampires for a living. You can stay here with us, continue your practice, marry a nice human woman….”

  “No,” James interrupted. “I don’t want there to be some sort of a distinguishable species identification between my wife and myself. I want to be a human, Mother.” The words sounded so absurd, but they also seemed necessary.

  “I want that for you, too, Jamie. The life your uncle lives is perilous to say the least. Even though there isn’t much that can kill him, I would think it would grow tiring. But, he said….”

  Despite the fact that she was sitting on his blankets, he managed to pull himself out from the other side of the bed before she could finish her sentence. “I need to speak to him,” he said, grabbing a dressing gown and throwing it on over his nightshirt. “I want to talk to Uncle Culpepper.”

  “Very well. He’s just downstairs. But perhaps you should dress first. He has a few of his associates with him.”

  Without
pausing to consider his mother’s statement, James headed out the bedroom door and down the stairs. He could hear Uncle Culpepper’s boisterous voice before he even reached the landing, and it sounded as if the chatter was coming from the parlor.

  “And then, I just swooped in, right in front of the Hunter, and tore the Vampire’s head clean off!” The room exploded in a loud barrage of laughter, and James heard the familiar tinkle of his sister’s voice above the others.

  He rounded the corner and peered in at his uncle who was sitting precisely where Margie’s bleeding, broken skull had laid the last time he’d entered this room. He locked eyes with the massive form of his uncle, whose weathered face broke into a grin upon seeing his nephew up and about. “Jamie!” he exclaimed, clapping his monstrous hands together. “It’s so nice to see you!”

  Dressed in a long trench coat of black leather, his uncle’s hair hung in unruly locks around his face down past his shoulders, his bulbous nose by far his most dominant feature, though his bushy brown eyebrows also gathered attention. He wore black slacks and a black button down shirt as well, though it was hard to see with his duster on. His head was uncovered, though James knew sometimes he wore a black slouch hat.

  Other voices greeted him as well, causing him to break the trance his uncle had him under and look at the others in the room. There was a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties with short orange hair mostly hidden beneath a purple derby hat with a large flower on the side. The rest of her outfit was also black, and she wore pants which looked much more form fitting than his sister’s.

  In another chair across the way sat a man who appeared to be only a few years older than James. He had blonde hair and a sharp nose. His outfit was also all black, except he wore a white button-down shirt beneath his waistcoat.