Chapter 6: Bridge of Warblers
On the Planet Merope
From his position on the bottom of the gondola, Neal watched the walls of the cavern whiz past them. Their craft rocketed along its track ever downward. He wished he had the strength to sit up for a better view. Peter was crouched behind him, gripping his shoulders to prevent him from sliding around.
The liquid Phineas had given him kept the pain at bay. From the way Peter watched him, Neal gathered he wasn't in good shape, but it didn't seem very important. Phineas had checked his bandages and he wasn't bleeding out. That would have to suffice. Neal felt more clearheaded than before. Perhaps he'd grown accustomed to the drug. The gondola padding reminded Neal of tight foam rubber. Compared to the stone floor of his cell, it felt like a down comforter.
Bats occasionally flew by. Unlike those on Earth, these were gaudy in hues of coral and vermilion. Birds had built their nests on ledges in the walls. He saw no adults but there were babies in abundance. Their huge eyes peered out inquisitively at them. Stalactites glimmered in the obscurity of the cavern.
Phineas maintained a steady stream of chatter, telling Neal what had transpired while he was held prisoner. Peter supplemented the account and explained what he'd learned about Meropian history. They kept mentioning his name as if they were trying to include him in the conversation. That was a non-starter. Simply to breathe was a laborious effort.
Peter asked about what they'd find on the floor of the cavern. Several times he called out to Neal for his opinion. Once or twice Neal thought about answering. He supposed he was being rude and hoped Peter would understand.
"Is the wormhole in the cavern?" Peter asked.
Phineas shook his head. "This is a wormhole unlike any you've previously encountered. It was made by the Celaenians and is a permanent portal."
"Surely not positioned to Earth?"
"Of course not. It requires proper configuration."
Neal zoned out the rest of his words. Mozzie should have been here. He would have understood.
"Hey, Neal, it looks like there's a lake below us," Peter said.
"It's actually a river. Once we reach bottom, we'll be able to disengage the gondola to follow it out of the cavern. We'll travel by water for the last leg of the journey."
"How long will that last?" Peter asked.
"We must reach the waterfall before twilight. There are oars in the boat. Neal, has Peter ever paddled a canoe?"
Why was Phineas asking him? Peter was right there. Neal's eyes closed as he listened to Peter's answer. He wished he could . . . Off in the distance someone called his name . . .
When he awoke, they were no longer in the cavern. Phineas was sitting in the stern, guiding the gondola with an oar, while Peter paddled in the aft position. Phineas had gripped Neal's feet between his ankles to keep them from moving. Peter was wedged between Neal and the side of the boat.
The river sliced through a steep gorge of forested mountains. Sunlight was fading. They'd said something about the need for speed, but Neal was fuzzy about what . . .
"How much further to the waterfall?" The urgency in Peter's voice roused Neal from his numbness. Peter's breathing was rapid and labored. Neal wished he could see him, but he was paddling behind him and Neal didn't have the strength to turn his head. He should offer to help . . .
When he came to, Phineas was speaking, his words clipped together. Short. Tense. They didn't sound like him. Had something happened? He and Peter were paddling with rapid jerks which made the gondola lunge forward in the water. Neal lurched to the side of the boat, crying out when his side came in contact with the craft.
"Neal, you awake?" Peter called out. "Stay with us. We need you alert."
"Why?" he mumbled. He was already drifting back.
"Ghasts!" Phineas hissed.
"Where?" Neal demanded, startled into full consciousness.
"On the riverbank. They're only a short way behind. We're trying to outrace them. Faster, Peter!"
The gondola lurched forward with every stroke of the oars. Phineas was unable to keep Neal's feet pinned and he rolled helplessly from side to side, unable to stop himself.
"Try to hold onto my legs," Peter shouted.
"We have to lose them!" Phineas yelled. "They're gaining on us!" He spared a quick glance backward at Neal. "If they follow us to the wormhole . . ."
"Is there another route?"
"One. A side tributary. It will be painful, but it's our only shot."
"Do it," Neal mumbled. He couldn't take the beating for much longer. How much worse could it be?
"Dig deep, Peter! One more burst!"
Phineas guided the craft close to the bank. Their speed decreased. Neal was jolted back and forth. His head was spinning, the urge to heave irresistible.
They slammed into a boulder. He heard someone scream. Was that him? It didn't sound like his voice.
With a sudden swerve Phineas made a sharp right which sent them down some sort of chute. They were crashing along rocky shallows. Surely their boat would be ripped apart. The angle was too steep to do anything but guide it along. A sound of roaring. Rapids?
"Hold on!" Phineas yelled.
Without warning Neal was flung high up in the air. Peter cursed and made a lunge for him. Neal crashed hard onto the deck.
. . .
"Neal, can you hear me?"
He really needed to get another name. He was so tired of hearing his own. Muzzily he ran his tongue over the dry powder in his mouth. It had a fragrance he could taste.
He knew those voices. Peter and Phineas. Neal congratulated himself for recognizing them. That was enough of an accomplishment. If they'd only stop talking, he could rest. He was lying on ferns. Soft, comfortable. Not in a boat. Not in the rapids.
"He's not reviving. Isn't there anything else you can give him?" Peter's voice sounded oddly desperate. What had gone wrong?
"His injuries are too severe. I'm afraid he's past any help I can provide."
"I thought he'd died in the boat." Peter's voice was rough and jarring. Neal just wanted to sleep.
"We'll have to carry him to the waterfall. Then I'll lash him to you. But I must warn you, if he dies in the wormhole, nothing can help him. It could be safer for you to go back on your own. What happened to Thaddeus may not happen to you."
"No! We go back together or not at all."
That wasn't right. Peter shouldn't sacrifice himself. "Go on, Peter. I'll be fine."
"Neal!" Peter demanded. "Are you awake?"
"Are you sure you heard something?" Phineas asked.
Someone shook his shoulder. "Neal, open your eyes!"
Neal struggled to comply and suddenly it wasn't so difficult. He blinked up at Peter's anxious face.
Peter exhaled sharply. His breath was cool on Neal's face. "That's better. Keep those eyes open."
Phineas probed his right temple. His fingers reminded Neal of popsicles. Refreshingly cold. "The herb's working. Must take longer on humans. Quick, we only have a few minutes."
He slid an arm under Neal as Peter supported his other side and hoisted him to his feet. "Ghasts?" Neal mumbled.
"We lost them," Peter said, "and almost you."
A wall of water lay straight ahead, a distance of a few yards. "Is that the wormhole?"
Phineas nodded. "You need to approach it from behind. You'll have just enough room to squeeze through between the rock wall and the waterfall."
"You're coming with us?" Neal asked.
"No, but I'll see you soon."
They half-dragged, half-carried him through the shallow water. Neal had lost all feeling in his legs. He could have so easily drifted off again but they wouldn't let him.
When they were behind the waterfall, Phineas took Neal's full weight and directed Peter to stand facing the rock wall. Despite his drowsiness, Neal was now too curious to close his eyes. Phineas slowly guided him to cling to Peter's back. He felt like a polar bear flopped onto an iceberg.
"So now you're the polar bear," Peter murmured.
Could Peter read his thoughts or had he said it aloud? Neal couldn't tell. The heat radiating off him would soon melt his iceberg into a puddle.
"Hold on for just a little longer. I'm not gonna melt." Peter bent his knees and used his hand to guide Neal's head till it rested on his shoulder.
Neal looked through half-closed eyes at Phineas who was extracting a thin rope from his knapsack. He used it to tie Neal to Peter under their arms and at their waist.
Phineas tapped his cheek. "Neal, listen to me. You must stay awake. Hold onto Peter as best you can." He studied Neal for a moment then guided Neal's hands in front of Peter and tied them together. Peter grabbed onto them with a reassuring grip.
Phineas then took a small antique device out of his pocket and twirled some of the dials.
"When you step toward the water, the wormhole will find you. Till our next meeting!"
Phineas half-supported Neal as Peter slowly rotated his position to face the waterfall. Gripping Neal's hands, he trod cautiously forward.
The water drenched Neal, quenching his fire. The spray was so hard it was impossible to keep his eyes open.
Whoosh!
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El wasn't scheduled to work on Saturday afternoon, but she went to the medical center anyway. Waiting at home wasn't helping anyone. In hindsight, that might have been a mistake. Vijay was there as well. Every time she looked at him, the image of Lavinia transforming into her assistant flashed in front of her eyes. El found herself staring at him to see if he would change back to Lavinia. Poor Vijay. He kept asking her if he'd done anything wrong.
She'd invited everyone to her house for dinner. June insisted on bringing the food, claiming she needed to have something to do. She'd made two of Neal's favorite dishes—shrimp Creole and brandy Alexander pie—as well as stuffed mushrooms and marinated vegetables. It was a feast designed for at least twice as many people as the number gathered around El's dining room table. El knew June hoped that Neal and Peter would be there to share it with them.
But that was not to be. Lavinia didn't call and it was a quiet meal. Mozzie tried to boost their spirits by making up stories about the friendly aliens Peter and Neal were encountering, but she was too distracted to pay him much heed.
Diana called a few times, apparently with the sole purpose of checking up on them. The last time had been at eight o'clock. Everyone was in a holding pattern. El had brought home sleeping pills for the group, but doubted anyone would take them. It would be another long night of waiting.
After helping to clean up the kitchen, Mozzie and Sara left to take Satchmo on a walk. El made tea for herself and June.
When the phone rang, El was carrying the mugs into the living room. The hot liquid sloshed onto her hands as she froze in place. June jumped up to take the mugs from her.
"Probably just Diana asking about us," El said, steeling herself for yet another disappointment. She could do this.
"Hello?" She hoped the quaver in her voice wasn't noticeable on the phone.
Diana's triumphant voice blasted all those thoughts aside. "We found them!"
The tears started to run down El's cheeks as she gave an ecstatic thumbs-up to June.
"How are they?" June demanded as soon as Diana rang off.
"Both are unconscious. There are bloodstains on their clothes but no apparent injuries. Diana believes they may have been drugged. A patrol car found them on Whittier Street off Trinity Avenue. They'd been lashed together. She suspects members of the Starry Wisdom cult abducted them as retribution. They're being taken to the medical center."
June dumped out the tea in the kitchen. Luckily Sara and Mozzie returned before they were ready to leave. El took the time to make one brief call to Lavinia before heading for the hospital. When Lavinia announced she'd meet them there, El had mixed feelings. Yes, Lavinia was probably better equipped than anyone else to diagnose their condition. But for a medical professional to have to admit that a space alien was more qualified was a bitter pill to swallow.
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Three hectic hours later, El was once more in waiting mode with one huge difference. This time Peter was beside her. She'd moved him to a private room at the conclusion of the preliminary tests. Neal was in another room at the end of the hall, the closest one available. Both were still unconscious.
Initially El had planned to simplify monitoring her patients by placing them in the same room. But she'd reconsidered. It was likely they wouldn't revive at the same time. The sight of the other lying unconscious and hooked up to tubes would increase the inevitable stress the patient would already be experiencing.
June and Mozzie were keeping a vigil at Neal's bedside. Sara's nerves apparently had kicked her energy level into overdrive. She was in constant motion between the two rooms. She'd already supplied drinks, snacks, and magazines—not that anyone felt like reading. She'd stop long enough to offer a few words of encouragement before bouncing up to check on the other patient.
Diana had gone home after meeting El in the hospital. El didn't attempt to dissuade her from her theory of cult retaliation. It was much more palatable than saying they'd been abducted to an alien planet.
Lavinia had arrived a few minutes after El and had consulted with her in the emergency ward. After jabbing her fingers against Peter's left temple, she pronounced herself satisfied and assured her that Peter would wake up within a few hours.
Neal was more problematic. Lavinia claimed the high levels of algolnium within his system prevented her from accessing his mind. When El questioned her about the whereabouts of Phineas, she said he hadn't returned and she didn't expect him for a couple of days. As to where he was or what he was doing, Lavinia refused to answer. She left after ordering El to keep her informed.
El had run all the tests she could think of—MRI's, scans, and x-rays. She'd ordered exhaustive blood work done on both of them. She could find nothing physically wrong with them aside from being unconscious. Their blood-stained clothes were a puzzle. The blood stains matched their blood types and both men had been bandaged. Peter had one over his right rib cage. Neal had two large pressure packs on his left side and his head had been wrapped in gauze. Neither of them had any trace of a wound. El was forced to conclude that once more they'd been miraculously healed by their journey through the wormhole.
Mozzie argued that this was confirmation of his theory that a ghost image remained behind when they entered a wormhole, but she remained skeptical. And she wasn't convinced that they were uninjured. Thaddeus had displayed similar readings and never regained consciousness.
A mumble roused her from her musings. Peter was stirring.
She took his hand. "Peter, can you hear me?"
His eyes blinked open. "El? Is that really you?" His hand reached up to touch her face.
She leaned forward to kiss him, her eyes blurring with unshed tears. "You're not dreaming. You're back in Arkham." She gave him the brightest smile she could summon. "And don't you ever run off to another planet without me."
He gave her a startled look, as he propped himself up on one elbow. "You know? Did Lavinia tell you?"
She nodded, elevating the bed to make him more comfortable. "She met with us yesterday morning."
His expression suddenly turned anxious. "Neal! Did he make it back too?"
She sat down on the bed next to him. "You were found on Whittier Street. Neal's still unconscious. You just awoke. I'm confident he will too." More of a wish than a belief but this wasn't the time for complete honesty.
"He was badly injured on Merope, the planet we were on. Internal bleeding, puncture wounds—"
She placed a hand to his lips. "He has no physical symptoms, just like you. We were able to tell from the bandages and the condition of your clothes that both of you had been injured, but there's no trace of anything now."
He relaxed and settled back on the pillows. "What day is it?"
"It's early Sunday morning." Peter was feeling no discomfort and was fully awake so she didn't try to get him to sleep. They were deep into exchanging details of what each had experienced by the time Sara arrived. Ecstatic to see Peter revived, she raced off to tell June and Mozzie. Neal was still unconscious, but everyone took Peter's case as an omen it wouldn't be much longer before he too would return to them.
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Neal let his right hand skim through the water. He smiled at Kate and tightened his left arm around her. She was sitting beside him in the small gondola. The oars lay unused at their feet. They were content to let the river guide them wherever it wished.
The rainforest was a slow-moving panorama in shades of tourmaline and jade. Kate looked like she could be a water sprite. She was clad in the same sky-blue silk dress she'd worn for their farewell dinner before he left for Oxford.
She rested her head on his shoulder. "I wish this trip would never end."
"It doesn't have to. We can stay on the river. Just you and me. We'll let the world flow around us."
Her response was a kiss. He could have lived within that kiss till the end of time.
Kate pulled back when the gondola rounded a bend in the river. A tributary led off to their right. "Look!" she exclaimed. "It's Arkham."
"In the middle of the rainforest? You must be joking."
Her laughter sounded like the tinkle of bells. Stroking his cheek with her hand, she nudged his head toward the tributary. "Such a skeptic you are. What do you make of that?"
He stared in disbelief. Rising out of the mist were the familiar silhouettes he knew so well. He could make out Derleth Hall with its observatory, the university tower, the Church of St. Jude on Prospect Hill.
Kate picked up an oar and turned their craft toward Arkham. "Do you see them?"
"Who?"
"Our friends. They're on the bridge, waving to us. Help me paddle."
Neal obediently retrieved the second oar. The bridge was so far away. When had her eyes become sharper than his? Gradually he could make out the figures—Peter, El, Mozzie, June . . . Sara was there, too. As their boat drew close, he realized they were singing. It was one of June's favorite songs, "Bridge Over Troubled Water."
Neal laughed and Kate did too. Rising over the voices was Sara singing her heart out about a bridge over troubled warblers.
"She really is hopeless," Neal said and told her about the other lyrics Sara had muddled.
"You must go to them. They need you, Sara in particular. For her sake, for the world's sake, you have to teach her the correct words."
"You don't mind?"
"Of course not. Go to them, Neal."
He watched them on the bridge, singing and waving at him. Peter beckoned him to row closer. "You'll come with me, right? . . . Kate?"
When she didn't answer, he turned to look at her.
She'd vanished.
"Kate!" He scanned the water frantically. Surely he would have heard a splash if she'd fallen overboard. In his despair he looked up into the sky. A bird soared high above him. Its opalescent blue feathers shimmered in the sun. As it flew off, he heard distant calls. They sounded like his name . . .
"Neal."
He blinked. In front of him was not Kate, not the river, but June. As his eyes gradually focused, he realized she was crying. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"Don't mind those tears. I'm just happy to see you." She hugged him. "Welcome back!"
"Neal, my boy, I expect a full report as soon as you're up to it," Mozzie said, wiping his glasses. "Don't think you can go wandering off to unknown planets and leave us in the dark."
Neal scanned the hospital room. Had he been sick? Had it all been a dream? But they seemed to know about Merope as well.
He lay back on the pillows, trying to piece together his recollections. "Is Peter all right?"
"He woke up before you," Mozzie said. "He's fine. You're fine. And I'm envious."
He attempted to tell them about Kate, the bird, but the words didn't make any sense.
"You must have been dreaming about the lyrics in the song," June said. "The silver bird in the last verse? You turned it into Kate." She clasped his hand. "That was your way of saying goodbye."
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Sara rounded the corner of the ward, making her final lap. She'd been walking off her excess energy for the past fifteen minutes. It was time to check in. June had urged her to stay away for longer and suggested she look for a book in the gift shop on the ground floor. Sara had tried to find something but gave it up as a lost cause. As if she could possibly take time out to read.
Peter woke up hours ago. Why hadn't Neal? El had tried to reassure her, but what did she know? Upon questioning, she conceded Neal's symptoms were the same as those of Thaddeus. What if he stayed like that for years? Never waking? Sara's stomach took another lurch. She could blame it on the gallons of coffee she'd consumed during the night, but she knew that wasn't the cause.
She'd tried to question Peter on what had happened, but he wanted to hold off on the details till Neal had revived. Was that an attempt to calm her down? It didn't work.
Sara sat down in an empty room reserved for families to quiet her runaway emotions before going back into Neal's room. He was frighteningly pale. He could have been a statue, his breathing barely discernible. If the monitors weren't there with their reassuring beeps, she'd have thought he was—Stop that! She needed to be strong for June and Mozzie. They'd been there all night. June had taken a few naps. Mozzie claimed he never slept at night but conducted thought experiments. And he'd filled up several sheets of paper with diagrams and scribbles.
Sara's stomach gave another lurch. She took a sip from her lukewarm soda to quiet it.
Empathy. That was her problem. Empathy for El and the stress she was under from having her husband on a distant, hostile planet.
Empathy. Who wouldn't be thrown for a loop at having a friend in the hospital? Emphasis on the word friend. This was Sara's first time to see a friend hooked up to so many tubes. El said they were the standard number, but all those monitors? That couldn't be routine.
Nurses undoubtedly experienced the same emotions for their patients all the time. It was likely a syndrome. Sara intended to research what the name was at the first opportunity.
Empathy. That's why her heart was doing flip-flops. Neal had not gone from being a pal to someone who could easily sweep her off her feet. Not that her feet were the problem. Her heart never had listened to reason. There it was, willing to give itself to a man who was not in the least interested in her and who was now in a coma.
Sara took a deep breath. Careful analytical thinking would calm overwrought nerves. She'd already outlined her future. Stick to casual relationships while pursuing her career. Romantic entanglements were a distraction. Sara had already experienced enough men to know they all came with baggage and messy breakups.
Neal's fake boyfriend status was just the ticket. They'd been friends for years. No worries about falling for each other.
Then, when she worked overseas at some exotic location, she'd be free to enjoy the occasional dalliance as her career skyrocketed. Emma Peel might have liaisons but she was always in control.
Was it because he was now Neal the enigma? An interplanetary explorer, a man who might have alien blood flowing inside him? Or was it the sight of him lying helpless in bed? Whatever it was, it couldn't be real. It would be so unfair to subject him to her temporary insanity.
It was like she was seeing the world through a movie camera which had one of those weird filters on it. All she needed to do was remove the filter. Once Neal recovered, she'd laugh over the idea of how she could have possibly felt this way.
Neal was going to recover. That's what El said. That's what Peter said. More to the point, that was what Lavinia said. What Sara needed to focus on was what she'd do when he woke up.
She leaped up from the chair and began to pace as she contemplated the disastrous scenario in front of her. If she acted in the least bit smitten, Neal would be confused and dismayed.
Those errant emotions she was feeling were clearly caused by stress. They needed to be buried deep. Although . . . No harm in indulging for just a minute. What would it be like if she really had fallen for Neal? She'd continued to play the part of the friend while reeling him in without him being aware of what she was doing. Stevie Wonder's song, "Signed, Sealed, Delivered," would be her mantra.
Sara reached for a tissue and gave a good blow to her nose. A quick trip to the ladies' room to repair the damage, then back to check on him. Once Neal revived, she'd recognize this for silliness provoked by stress. Damn it, Neal, wake up.
Sara paused before opening the door, steeling herself for the sight of him comatose in bed. She needed to be in character. June and Mozzie mustn't suspect anything. Mozzie in particular wouldn't be able to resist telling Neal. Sara could feel her cheeks grow hot at the thought.
Taking a breath, she opened the door. "Neal! You're awake!"
He looked at her with those blue eyes which would melt anyone's heart. Another transitory effect caused by him being asleep for so long. Soon they would appear quite ordinary. Pull yourself together. Don't blow it. He had a smile on his face, but it looked a little tenuous.
"It's about time," she joked, striding toward his bed. "Do you know how long you've been keeping us waiting? I don't want to hear any complaints on how late I am ever again."
Neal's smile broadened under the barrage of her banter, while June and Mozzie filled her in on what she'd missed. He'd only been awake for a few minutes. She was proud of herself. Even though she stood right next to him, she played the part of a pal superbly well. She brushed his hair off his forehead, but casually, like anyone might do.
June had called El, but she was in the midst of finishing a test on Peter. She said she and Peter would be up as soon as they were done.
Sara pulled up a chair to sit alongside Mozzie.
"June, did you sing to me?" Neal asked.
She nodded. "I'd just finished 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' when you woke up."
"I heard you . . . in my dream."
"We were calling to you," she said, looking at him fondly. "Mozzie was singing, too."
"Did you hear me?" Mozzie asked eagerly.
Neal grinned. "You were hard to miss. You were all standing on the Miskatonic River Bridge. Peter and El were there, too." He turned to Sara. "You were there as well."
Sara's malfunctioning heart jumped at the thought she'd been included. "I probably sang the best."
"Not exactly. You were singing about a bridge over troubled warblers."
June broke through the laughter. "I'm sure that's not right. I distinctly remember troubled waxwings, not warblers."
"You're both wrong," Mozzie declared. "It was troubled woodcocks." He launched into song. He truly was as bad as Sara. That must be why she felt so close to him. She chimed in to sing off-key with June singing soprano over them. It was immensely silly, but Neal appeared to enjoy it.
Just as they launched into their chorus of warblers, waxwings, and woodcocks, the door opened.
"Don't stop on our account," Peter said, walking in. He had a robe over his hospital gown and looked fully recovered. "I know how much Neal enjoys singing."
"You're okay?" Neal asked, his expression turning serious. It made Sara wonder even more what had happened on that planet. Would they attempt to hide their ordeal from the others? It would do no good. Not as long as she was around.
"Now that you're awake, I couldn't be better," Peter said, walking over to stand beside him. He scanned Neal as if he couldn't believe the transformation either.
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Neal was glad El didn't insist on an immediate examination, but he knew it was coming. Even so, he made an effort to delay the inevitable, protesting that he was fine.
"You might as well give up," Peter advised. "It didn't work for me either."
June stood up. "Sara, let's go scrounge some breakfasts for these two."
"And for us, as well!" Mozzie called out. "Those candy bars don't count."
"Anything in particular you're hungry for?" Sara asked Neal.
"Anything and everything. I'm starving."
"Me too," Peter said. "Aside from a few blue apples we haven't had much to speak of for . . . well, I don't know how long."
"How many times did the suns set on Merope?" Mozzie asked eagerly. "How long did twilight last? I certainly hope you drew the night sky. When may I have your notes? Did you check if they survived your passage through the wormhole?"
"Don't get distracted!" Neal urged Sara. "Food!"
"Coming up," she said with a laugh.
Neal counted it a minor victory that he was able to convince El to unhook the tubes. He wasn't an invalid. Peter didn't have any tubes. He didn't need them either.
During the exam, he felt like he had two physicians. Peter studied every move he made. "Is there something you're not telling me?" Neal asked, not able to stand it any longer.
"No, it's just . . . Your wounds were so severe, it's difficult to believe there's no lingering effect. El told me you show no sign of having been injured, but in my head I see what you looked like on the planet."
"You never described them to me, but I knew what Sornoth had done. What was the damage from the ghasts?"
"You were bleeding internally, probably from a kidney, with a fever high enough that you should have been delirious. The blood loss from the puncture wounds—"
"Not now, Peter," said El firmly. "Neal, take a deep breath and hold it."
Mozzie let out an anguished moan while El listened to his heart. Was that his version of therapy? Mozzie appeared to be the one who needed to be examined, not Neal.
"Why is the world so cruel to me?" Mozzie lamented. "I've yet to be in one single wormhole. What marvelous creation can heal wounds and bring someone back from the brink of death?"
"Hush," El ordered. "You don't know how gravely Neal was injured."
"Peter's account is sufficiently precise. Each time they go through wormholes they're changed. Who knows what would happen to me? Are there other abilities you acquire with each passage?"
"Don't start with the hair growth theory again," Peter warned. "I'm begging you."
With all the chatter going on, Neal was barely aware of the exam. He suspected El performed the bare minimum. She'd already warned him that he'd have to undergo a full battery of tests before he could leave. Mozzie filled him in on Lavinia's revelations. Her shapeshifting ability was the most shocking. It made Neal wonder if Phineas had disguised himself as well. Neal thought back on his professors at Oxford. Had one of them been Phineas?
His thoughts kept returning to Sornoth. Throughout the escape he'd been too drugged to be concerned, but not now. Fangs piercing his side. Blackness. What else had Sornoth done?
El squeezed him hand lightly, returning him to the present. "I haven't found anything to contradict your assessment, Neal. How about setting Peter's mind at ease by demonstrating your walk?"
Neal was happy to comply, not minding to parade around the room, even if he was in a blue polka dot hospital gown. He was in a semi-private room with two beds. No one was in the second to protest.
Mozzie's eyes glinted mischievously. "If you really want to prove to El you're okay, we should perform our dance."
"We haven't done that in years."
"What dance is this?" Peter asked.
He'd have to wait to find out because there was a knock on the door. June and Sara had returned with breakfast.
"Neal, now's a good time to get back in bed, and you too, Peter," El said. "There's an empty bed and you've been up long enough."
Neal didn't have a robe on and beat a hasty retreat. Peter, however, didn't give in so easily. When he raised his objections, El pointed to the bed like she was giving Satchmo orders. "No bed, no food."
While Sara wheeled the food cart in, Mozzie arranged the chairs between the two beds to form a semicircle.
"Suspiciously convenient to have two beds," Peter commented as El adjusted his pillows. "Did you expect me to crash in Neal's room?"
She hesitated for a moment, her expression growing serious. "I'd originally planned for you to be in the same room, but decided against it." She turned to Neal. "Lavinia was unable to provide any estimate of how long your recovery time would be."
"How much longer was I out of it?"
"About five hours, dear," June said. "We were all growing quite anxious."
When Neal heard the length of time, things fell into place. Peter's worry, June's tears. Sara's . . . What was with Sara? He'd caught her studying him several times. Was that nervous exhaustion or something else?
Sara was usually unflappable. Her reactions made him realize how much he'd put them through. They must have wondered if he'd wind up like Thaddeus.
Sara projected the image of being strong and independent. This experience revealed she wasn't as tough as she thought she was. Neal was touched by her concern. It also served as a warning. Extraterrestrials and space travel could be too unsettling for her. He and Peter had gone through it before. They'd grown accustomed to coping with dangerous aliens. Not Sara.
Was he being selfish? She'd had to put up with him as a fake boyfriend. Her abduction might not have happened if Chad hadn't seen the two of them together. Chad could have told the cult to put the hit on her. For Sara's sake, should Neal distance himself?
Notes: Confusion reigns for Neal and Sara, and not just about the events on the planet and the intergalactic conflict going on around them. If you've read Nocturne in Black and Gold, you know that there are several matchmakers at work in New York City. Diana has been pelted with suggestions from El, June, Neal, and Sara for how Arkham Neal and Sara should act toward each other. In addition, Neal's cousin Henry has forged a secret alliance with El to plant his own recommendations. Who suggested what is not easy to tell, and Diana is far too savvy to reveal her sources. She also retains full rights to twist any of their ideas however she wishes.
Peter had Diana add some references to Neal's stay in the hospital in California—more mind games to torment their foes. I wrote about the signals in my blog post: "Messages to Azathoth: Invisible Wounds." Is Neal truly uninjured or did Sornoth inflict hidden damage? El and Lavinia will discuss his condition later in the story.
Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Cinereous Skies board at the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website
New pins include the H'nir River, Miskatonic River Bridge, Kate, and the songs mentioned in the chapter.