Carl felt sick to his stomach as he walked in the room and Van Helsing could not speak.
Arene lay on the ground. Her skin was milk white, there was not a single trace of life left in her. Sweat dripped down her face in pools, at least that's what it appeared to be. If she had been considered thin before, you could almost see her bones through her skin. A drop of blood fell from her lips and blood trickled from the scratch where she had hit her head when she fell. Her fingers seemed to move slightly, as though she was trying to wake from her sleep. Van Helsing couldn't speak. He ran to his daughter's side and wrapped the girl in his arms. She began to shiver uncontrollably; the warmth of her father's body was too much for her. Carl ran to his side and placed his hand on Arene's forehead. He yanked it back at once.
"The fever is uncontrollable. I don't understand," he whispered.
"Carl, do something!" Van Helsing all but shouted, knowing that screaming at Carl would not make Arene better.
"Van Helsing.... I don't know what I can do," he whispered, going beside him. "I've never seen anyone this sick before."
Van Helsing looked at his friend with disbelief. Suddenly, he felt a slight movement in his arms and clutched Arene closer to his chest.
"Fa...father," Arene whispered. She had finally come to. What voice she had left, she was using and it was very little.
"Arene!" he said, at once. "Don't speak...Carl, run and try to find this doctor, he's got to help her!"
Carl ran as fast as he could out of the room, knowing there was not a moment to lose. He loathed himself for thinking this, but he HAD only seen one person that sick... and that person had ended up dying- NO! Arene was going to be fine. This doctor... whosoever he was…had to help Arene. Trying not to panic, he raced down the hall to the Cardinal's wing.
Back in Arene's room Van Helsing held his daughter closer to him. Her fever was only getting worse.
"Father..." she whispered, "I feel so cold."
"Don't worry," he whispered back, "I'll stay here with you. Just relax, I'll help you." He kissed her forehead delicately. He gazed at his daughter. She was always so strong. She was always a fighter... now she was fighting for her life.
Carl ran into the Cardinal's room and paused only to catch his breath. The Cardinal was in utter shock,
"Carl? Carl, what is it?" he asked, slightly nervous as he had never seen the young man like this.
"It's Arene!" he cried. "Something's wrong! She's..." He knew he could not put it lightly.
"Now then," a man said, entering the room, "what seems to be the trouble?"
Carl turned to him. His heart leapt slightly but at the same time he felt terrified at this man.
"You must be the doctor who is treating Arene."
"Indeed I am," Jekyll answered with mock humility. "I hope I am not to understand that she has worsened during the night?"
"She is in a terrible state," said Carl with emotion. "Please come now and help her."
"I will do all I can of course," the doctor answered as he reached for his bag, which lay by the bookcase.
The two of them headed quickly down the corridor towards Arene's room.