Happy birthday to me. :)
So, there will be one more short chapter in Sculptor before we move on. This series have some serious plot going on! If you're interested I'm posting snaps on my tumblr (at ilovehighhats), so be sure to check it out.
I hope you will enjoy the chapter. :)
Review responses at the very end, as usual. Unusually, a question for y'all there too.
Sculptor, or shaping the future one day at a time.
In which the fruit is sliced to be consumed but it turns out to be rotten, as poison spreads through the land.
Part 5
The Rot
oOo
Dining room was bright and welcoming, prepared to receive them with every available surface overflowing with food and flowers. At the centre was a monstrous table set for fourteen people, decorated with low bouquets of spring greenery, in the very middle adorned with Helena's lily of the valley arrangement tucked inside Bane's brioche wreath. The white of bell-like heads contrasted nicely with red eggs peeking from the golden crust, emerald green leaves shielded from touching the pastry by a simple yellow cloth.
The plane of the table was covered with an impeccably white linen, bone coloured china on top of it harmonizing with pale yellow of the napkins. Cutlery shone with gleam hinting at thorough polishing, as did the glasses arranged in a symmetrical pattern.
Various cold dishes were scattered throughout the length of the wood, enabling everyone equal access to every delectable bite. Small baskets full of fluffy wheat rolls and dark, dense rye bread stood paired with coquilles filled with creamy butter. Blue bowls full of simple potato salad flanked silver plates of cold meats, surrounded in turn with small dishes full of sauces and garnishes. Glass troughs full of boiled eggs hovered over long ashets filled with salmon rolled over asparagus, ham with horseradish cream, trout covering golden beets and devilled eggs full of caviar. Boats with eggerøre, a dish of eggs and chives cooked over steam, stood at attention by every seat.
On the side, long chest housed a stainless steel bain-marie, keeping warm sausages of three different kinds and croquettes of egg and mushroom, accompanied by bowls of fresh salads and an assortment of drinks framed with mounds of oranges. A column of fresh plates and a basket waiting for used dishes was at the ready hidden behind an impressive bouquet of peonies. Their round heads in delicate pink were fragile and ephemeral as if assembled with the finest silk.
"This looks absolutely fabulous!" Alex exclaimed, stopping at the entrance.
Grace beamed up at him pleased with the praise, soaking in compliments from other guests who immediately followed the actor's lead. A little bit of snooping, peering curiously at the nametags by the plates, and soon everyone found their seat.
Hosts were each at the short ends of the table. On Grace's right was the doctor, then Jack, alongside her Bane, and Tirill, Tom, then Anna on Graham's left, thanks to last minute scheme of the counsellor. On the right side of the host was an empty seat, then Alex, Helena, Magnus, Lucy and the police officer, Knut, just on Grace's left side.
Graham was the last to enter the dining room, after he ensured some low and soothing music was playing subtly in the background.
"Grace, is Fatty here?" Tirill asked unfolding her napkin.
"Oh no, she helped me with preparations but I gave her a few days off."
"She's not celebrating Easter though, is she?"
"No of course not, only we infidels do," the hostess snorted, reaching out for a basket of bread, giving everyone a signal to start their meal.
Graham strolled clockwise around the table, filling wine glasses with some chilled Riesling.
"Excuse me, but do I understand correctly, you call your helper a fatty?" Magnus questioned.
Explanation from Grace was somewhat offhanded.
"It's an inside joke she started. She is thin as a rail, but always complains her husband wants to put some meat on her bones."
"Without much success," Anna added.
"I swear she could be a model, if not for her nose," mused Tirill, shaking her head over her salmon. "The original and eccentric look seems to be in season lately, so who knows. Maybe the nose is not the obstacle."
"I'm still surprised you called us all infidels, Mrs Ferguson. That's very unchristian of you to describe anyone in this way," the theologian in training complained.
"It is true, though. The name depends on viewpoint, and Fatima never pretended she sees us all in any other way," Helena interjected.
"But you made her change her attitude with that Jesus talk." Tirill again, smiling across the table from her spot on Bane's right.
"What Jesus talk?" Obviously, Magnus seemed keenly interested in that facet of the conversation.
"I convinced her that people believing in prophet Isa are only a step away from believing also in Muhammad."
"Does she know you don't believe in either?" Graham threw in with a smirk from his end of the table.
"Shh, don't rat me out. I have some very unpleasant memories with judgy religious people; I'm inclined more to soothing tempers, not inflaring them. Especially since I hear Fatima's husband may have a calligrapher uncle." She grinned at Bane, sure he remembered the remarks his men used to made at her loose conduct back in Armenia. No one but them needed to know, though.
He sent her a timid smirk and passed the butter to Jack, who couldn't stop talking to him.
"Have you seen Islamic calligraphy?" Helena continued, "It's divine! People here tend thinking it's a lost skill, preserved only in museums, but in reality it's flourishing in languages we don't usually concern ourselves with. The whole of Asia is still very much practicing the art of writing."
"You think of branching out?"
"Oh no, I'll stick to perfecting what I already know. But it's good to grab some inspiration and maybe steal some techniques here and there."
"I have a question." Tom the writer, silent so far and observing more than participating, decided to add to the conversation. "Have any of you ever stole anything?"
"I used to nick a candy every time I went into Mr Walter's store, back in third grade I think. Then he caught me red-handed and I had to work for him all summer. He paid me in Astro Pops. I used to lick them to a shank, while riding a bike."
"Those are lollipops, right?" Knut asked leaning slightly over his plate. He was sitting beside Grace, at the opposite end of the table from the host.
"Oh yes. Forgive me, it' so easy to forget we have different backgrounds."
"I used to pilfer my neighbour's orchard," Tirill confessed. "We were raiding it like pests, a whole bunch of neighbouring kids eating all plums, and apples, and sour cherries. I think he left them unfenced because we were too cute to bear. Save for me, I used to look like a rat then."
"I'm sure it wasn't so," Grace argued.
"Were you part of that too, Dad?" Jack asked, for a moment giving Bane reprieve from the relentless questioning to sip some water. He smiled at Helena over his wreath.
For a moment they felt like the only people at the table, connected in a way even distance and space couldn't hinder.
"Oh yes," the policeman smiled broadly, continuing the chat, "and she didn't even mention the insane amount of trespassing we did back then."
"And all those illegal bonfires."
"Did you sell berries by the road without paying taxes too?"
"Guilty as charged!"
Everybody laughed.
"I think we have some sausages on the side? Would anyone want a helping?" Anna asked, rising from her seat.
"I'd like one," Knut raised his hand.
"Is anyone superstitious?"
The excited question was from Alex. He said it in a way that made everyone still their hands, for a moment pausing clinking of cutlery and idle chatter.
"Maybe, why?" Tom inquired.
"No one mentioned that, but we have thirteen people at the table. Do you know what that means?"
"Something bad will happen to the one who leaves first!" Jack gasped.
"I didn't leave the room, I just went here," Anna observed, nonplussed. She shot a quick glance towards Graham.
It was her father who saved her from furthering the subject.
"Well, I think it's indelicate to speak of superstition in the presence of a cleric and two scientists." The remark seemed biting, but it succeeded in diverting everyone's attention. Magnus blushed, mumbling that he was still far off from his ordination, while Bane stoically munched on devilled eggs.
"That's right, we have another scholar among us." Tirill seemed excited the conversation turned to Bane. "Tony, what made you pursue your field of science?"
"I liked stars and comets when I was a child. Saw the Halley's in '86."
"So, where are you from, Tony?" Lucy asked.
Helena didn't remember Bane giving her permission to call him by his given name. She leant back in her chair to glance the researcher's way behind Magnus' back. Lucy didn't notice, but the man in question did.
"Hong Kong," he answered with a mischievous smile.
Most of the people at the table laughed.
"Does that mean you're British?" Graham inquired, silencing everyone with his low pleasant tone. Interested.
"Indeed."
"Oh, I didn't realize that Hong Kong was British," Lucy admitted.
"Handed back over to Chinese government in 1997, but ever since it has been very independent, an autonomous territory with its own rules."
"What were you doing there?"
"What most young people do. Studying, getting my first job, and my first degree."
"In physics?"
"No, my first interest was history."
"How unexpected. So what were you doing for your first job?"
"I was working on archaeological sites in continental Asia."
"How many degrees do you have?" Grace inquired, leaning over the table towards him.
"I assume you mean the fields, not actual number of my titles?" His smile was charm itself, accompanied by slight lean towards the woman. "Three. Masters in Classical Antiquity, where I was focusing on Europe's influence in and over Southeast Asia, then Bachelor of Classical Languages and finally a doctorate in astrophysics."
"That's very eclectic."
"How many languages do you speak?"
All eyes turned to Helena, who asked the last question, scrutinizing Bane from across the table. He returned her stare with a smirk.
"Fluently? Only around ten."
She snorted in her wine, sure that if he admitted to knowing ten, he most probably knew at least double that number. And what did he mean by 'fluently'?
"I wish I spoke anything but English like a native. Can't get the intonation right in Norwegian, and my Spanish is just ghastly." Lucy interjected, but no one but Bane seemed interested.
"Shadowing might be a good way for you to practice..."
The conversation fragmented again, guests returning to their plates and immediate neighbours in favour of idle chatter.
Brunch had fell into a lull for a while, people coming to the buffet and back, strolling around to talk with friends sitting too far while filling up their drinks, until Knut decided to show off his recently acquired knowledge, courtesy of the Wikipedia.
"Did you know that Plato was in fact an accomplished wrestler? He took part in the Olympics and won three times."
Helena caught the information mid-sentence, immediately stopping her conversation with Alex. She gasped, turning starry eyed to Bane. Conveniently, he was keeping an eye on her, even though he appeared to listen attentively to Tirill.
He sent Helena a wary look.
"What?" The police officer asked, disoriented with the shift of attention.
"Is it true?" Helena asked breathlessly.
Cautiously, Bane nodded, weighing his words.
"There is a source alluding to this. It is true that he was a sportsman, as many youths of good families were encouraged to be at the time."
"Oh, is that so?"
"There is something I'm missing here," Graham complained.
"Helena had an idea lately to find me a nickname," Bane admitted begrudgingly.
Tirill clapped excitedly.
"Let's think about it!"
"I'd rather not."
"Don't be a spoilsport," Grace interjected with a wink.
He visibly refrained from rising to her taunt.
"You could be seen as Plato," Tom mused, "but I think his philosophy is too emotional for a scientist oriented on facts. How about Euclides?"
"From Alexandria or Megara?"
"There were two of them?"
"I have one!" Magnus smiled shyly, curiously peeking at the scribe more than at Bane. "Menelaus."
"Who's that?" Jack laughed. "Sounds like a skin disease."
"It was the husband of Helen of Troy. Who originally lived in Sparta, and returned there after ten years long war."
"Wasn't that the guy who strangled his lady?" Sven threw in, observing Helena's reaction.
"No that was Othello." Ever helpful in drama related topics Alex supplied.
"Of course it was."
The scribe threw a warning glance to the doctor, noting Bane's concerned frown. Just great.
"How about Hubble. Because of, you know, the size?" Came from the corner of the table.
"Anna!" Helena scolded openly.
"Coincidentally, Edwin Hubble was quite the athlete." Bane arched one brow at his date, more amused than anything at the implication.
She snickered.
"Who was Edwin Hubble? Are we talking about the telescope still?" Jack looked around for some explanation.
"Children, the name of the object had to at first belong to a man, to be used as a commemoration of his accomplishments." Graham's tired voice barely carried over next propositions.
"Copernicus?"
"Cadmus, perhaps?"
"Bacon!"
"I'd say brownie."
"No, sir Francis Bacon, you fool."
Helena hid her eyes behind her palm, trying to control her laughing.
"Newton"
"Like in fig newtons? "
"Chiron, "
"Kant."
"McQueen "
"Mr Beefcake."
"Like rock Hudson?"
"What, the Rock?"
"No that's Dwayne Johnson"
"I'm confused." Alex admitted. "Don't even know most of those people."
"We could always just wait for something to pop up naturally. I'm sure we will be granted Dr Dorrance's visits again, provided you won't scare him off with your chatter." Graham cut the thread with a commanding but quite fatherly gaze around the table.
"You will come again, right?" Jack looked immediately to Bane, concerned with his reaction.
"I'm not easily frightened, little one," he smiled down at her. He carried himself with admirable dignity through the ordeal, even though Helena practically lied on the table doubled with mirth.
The meal was slowly finishing, plates emptied and scattered to the basket out of sight, conversation rising and dying in short bursts.
Anna declaimed over the necessity of early detection of health threats, droning on without much care for anyone's interest or attention. Beside her, Graham was unusually quiet, perhaps musing over some of her points. Helena watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to decipher what was off about him, but unable to put her finger on it. On the other side of the teacher, Tom was not so covertly rolling his eyes, stuffing himself with potato salad.
Heavy sigh on her left got her attention and she shared an understanding nod with Magnus.
He seemed to take it as an encouragement, steeling himself briefly before interrupting Anna's monologue.
"Surely there are limits to what can we learn with tests and measurements. Sometimes the disease is hiding in a way that makes it impossible to detect. We should all get together with our loved ones as often as we can, prepare our hearts for meeting the Lord, and not worry too much about when exactly that day would come."
"So you say it's pointless to have check-ups?" Anna frowned, swirling her wineglass in dangerously wide circles.
"If something happens to you, well, what can you do? God's plan."
"If I was following that reasoning I wouldn't sit here now. By your standards I'm living on borrowed time. By mine, I've dealt with a problem and moved on. But perhaps," Helena smiled coyly towards Magnus, "just perhaps, I am a wrench in God's plan and someone somewhere is suffering terribly in my stead."
Poor boy looked appalled. Shame he didn't realize her diversion was a ploy to shut the teacher up.
"That's medieval thinking. God's plan was to put a good doctor in your path, and give you a happy life."
"That's so charming." A genuine smile put him at ease and pause in conversation brought the attention to her. Just as planned. "And I thought recently, I should give back to the community which so generously welcomed me into its ranks."
"Tell me you mean what I think you mean," Tirill grinned.
"I think I'm finally ready to take up on your offer," she nodded at Tirill and Anna.
"Is this your doing, Tony? If so, you have my thanks. We all have been trying to convince Helena for almost as long as she lived here." Graham added animatedly, no doubt relieved with timely rescue of conversation with some genuinely interesting information.
"I must confess I'm in the dark." Bane didn't seem too fazed by it.
"No you're not. I told you I should get a job. "
"Indeed, you mentioned. My bad. Does that mean you've been declined for years and still persisted?" He asked Tirill.
"I'm sure you know yourself how important it is to preserve appreciation towards beauty and respect toward craftsmanship. I never gave up hope Helena would be convinced to take some youngsters under her wings."
"Admirable dedication." Not many people could say it without sounding condescending, but somehow he managed to pack the right amount of respect in his tone.
"Well, I think when it comes to patience I have a fair opponent," she winked at Bane, then sent a sly smile to the scribe.
Maybe she knew a tad too much about their situation.
"I have no patience towards children," Helena explained. "But I do hope to intimidate them into listening to me. I've been practicing." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Can always try to scare them with some outlandish story of monsters coming their way if lines on their practice sheets won't be straight enough."
"No one will be scared of that in the age of computer games and terrorists besieging whole cities." Lucy threw in.
"Kids these days still believe in trolls and troggs," Tirill argued. "They do. We have been hearing lately some outlandish stories, as Helena said, even from older teens. About a troll that took his residence in the forest north from here. They say he runs around carrying trees which he tackled out of the ground. After he's done thousand push ups he does thousand pull ups on one of the branches of the tree, the one he wants to carry of course. And he does crunches way above ground, holding onto the tree with his legs. And then he invades ponds and carries that tree around in circles."
"Why would he carry a tree around?" Tom wondered.
"No one knows."
"Sounds like a bodybuilder more than a troll." Their hostess cut in. "You'd know." Grace was looking away but no one had any doubt to whom the sentence was addressed to.
Again, all eyes turned to Bane.
"I had a moment where I did similar things. Now I have my pilates."
"Too old?" Magnus asked, tips of his ears reddening almost instantly after he realized how rude the question was.
"Too tired." Bane nodded, dispelling the air of gaffe with his honesty.
"Tony was a riot in our last class," Grace joked, getting up to bring another helping of salad and bread. "The instructor nearly fainted when he came in."
"Oh, I bet." Anna murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Sorry," she threw quieter to Helena across the table.
"It's okay, I like to look at him too."
"Aren't the scars, how shall I put it, distracting?" Alex asked leaning to whisper it dramatically in her ear, but he seemed interested more than judgemental. And didn't lower his voice all that much.
She smiled with a twinge of sourness.
"I'm fine with them."
Out of nowhere Grace appeared behind them, pretending to fuss over the arrangement of plates on the table. It was a bit off admittedly, since the judge didn't show.
"We didn't see too many, he was pretty well covered. But I did have a chance to glance at his back and torso once, and it's certainly a fascinating sight."
The confession made Alex and Anna giggle, while Helena, Tom and Graham exchanged pained looks.
"What? When?" Anna seemed intrigued, and conveniently overlooked a glare from the scribe.
"Please stop," she threw in over rim of her glass, taking a big swig of water.
"I walked in on him in an inopportune moment." Her expression didn't left to the imagination the fact that she was absolutely delighted by the experience.
"You mean opportune," Helena interjected.
"Whatever we call it; it shows that he lived an eventful life." She winked at Helena, mercifully omitting details of the scene she witnessed. The younger woman silently nodded in thanks.
"Let's ask him about it," Alex proposed. He was gleeful with the reactions around him, and was set on squeezing every bit of juicy rumour he could get. "Mr Dorrance, if you please?" he called out across the table.
Bane turned to him, slowly and steadily with the slightest edge. His eyes measured the distance between actor and the scribe in an instant; a bit too close since Grace was still leaning over the man's left side.
"We were wondering what you were doing after you finished your first job."
"I was an apprentice of an antiques dealer."
"An apprentice," Grace said with a meaningful swipe over his scars.
"It's a cutthroat environment," he explained, unwavering stare on Alex.
"Oh which one isn't." The doctor boomed from his corner of the table, no doubt miffed with lack of attention from the hostess. "I remember back in my intern year, everyone wanted to work for that one star surgeon. We did anything to get on his flock of admirers, and that were some most volatile months I've lived through. This," he showed them a big scar peeking from under his shirtsleeve, "is a remnant from a fight over who gets to remove a catheter from patients artery."
"You never told me about it before," Anna laughed, exchanging a quick look with Graham.
"I've lived," he boasted, electing light chuckles from everyone.
"And may we all live to tell exciting stories to our dearest," Graham closed the conversation with a smile and slight rising of his glass. "I think it's time for digestif and perhaps a bite of dessert. Let's go back to the living room."
Grace agreed and led them all, leaving behind her scraping of chairs and animated conversations, the salad and bread all but forgotten. Graham poured generous helpings of whisky to whomever declared the need for a glass, and the group split into two and three person circles, chatting. Helena went out on the terrace, and she winked at Bane over a cigarette lit gallantly by Alex. The scientist smiled, seemingly at ease but internally straining to go to her, unable at the moment since he was trapped by a story of the young architecture student and her unwavering enthusiasm towards modern designers.
Grace brought out trays of miniature desserts, arranged masterfully to showcase each piece's best spots. Mini tartelettes piled high with fruit were surrounded by an army of understated chocolate mousse cups, garnished only with very tips of lemon balm. Golden discs of puff pastry filled with variety of jams were sitting in neat rows, along with plain squares of shortbread, simply sprinkled with large crystals of sugar. There were creamy desserts in tiny chalices, panna cotta and tiramisu, and a heaping platter of cut fruit. Last, but much needed if judging by cheers of some guests, was a plate filled with grapes and cheese, followed by a basket of Bane's bread cut to small pieces.
When smokers came back from the terrace and settled on armchairs and sofas, and the rug by the fireplace, everyone stocked up on their drinks and munchies of choice, Grace came out to the middle.
"It is time for our murder mystery," she intoned, spreading her hands elegantly in a welcoming gesture.
Her response was a chorus of groans.
"No, don't be like that. It's going to be excellent fun."
She produced a folder with margins swarming in sticky notes, ruffled and colourful like feathers of a parrot. "One of you have been told to place an object, so that another person would consume it. So, did any of you find an unexpected grape in their brunch?"
Anna groaned.
"I had one in my salad. I thought it was supposed to be there?"
"There were no dishes with grapes in them, save for the wine," Graham offered.
"So, I'm the body?" Anna made sure. "Oh, fu-" She caught her thought just in time to change it to a very sarcastic "fantastic."
"So how does this work?" Lucy asked. She barely took part in earlier conversation and seemed obviously bored; her blasé air evaporating long time ago and leaving only a slight stank of apathy.
"Well, we have to ask each other questions to find out whodunnit'!" Grace offered excitedly.
"Who killed Anna?" Knut threw loudly, but no one took his question seriously.
"Now, let me just divide you into two groups." Grace consulted the notebook. "One will be suspects and the other sleuths."
"Shouldn't we have done that before the lunch?"
"What if one of sleuths is the killer?"
"What group will you and Graham be?"
"Calm down, I'm getting to that."
Helena smiled, sipping her drink, letting the alcohol cut over decadent richness of the chocolate mousse cup. It was fantastic and she thought briefly of getting the recipe for it. Bane had been cooking a lot lately and everything looked and tasted like creations from a Michelin starred chef. The effortless masterfulness he conducted himself with in the kitchen was enviable. She knew it was a remnant of his earlier occupation, his every move perfectly planned, if necessary even rehearsed to conduct business to the highest standard and execute every task with utmost precision. Even if it was only making bread or cutting a steak. On top of that he had a spark of eagerness bordering on giddiness, an excitement over being able to cook without any hindrance of time, ingredients, or a mask restricting smell and taste.
Infuriating, how good he was with everything he touched. Helena wanted to make him see how that felt, the awe mixed with slight inferiority, when she'd be the one to nonchalantly whip up a treat.
She observed him from across the room, enjoying his relaxed sprawl during an unhurried conversation, the keen interest with which he listened to Jack, the obvious amusement over Grace's chaotic explanations. He probably knew who the culprit was already, and even if he didn't, it would be a matter of minutes before he figured it out, Helena thought fondly. Without a doubt he was the most intelligent man in the room.
The most dangerous, too.
"So now, listen please," Grace called, after clearing up some details with her husband. "As the hosts are privy to the identity of our mysterious killer we are exempt from playing. Anna is our victim... Where is she?"
"She went away to settle her cough," Sven supplied.
"Well, alright. That leaves ten people. Three will be detectives, the rest will be suspects. Remember that the killer could be any of you. Now for the rules-" She stopped mid-sentence.
Anna emerged from the corridor, her entrance announced with sound of laboured coughing, her breath wheezing. She tried to tell them something.
"I ca-, I can't…"
"Jack. Get her purse from the lobby, it's the red one," Sven ordered, running towards his daughter. He helped her to the nearest sofa, the one where Bane sat with the student, vacated hurriedly by both.
Helena watched with everybody, as the doctor tried to establish what was happening.
"You're itchy? Where? How long does it last? I'm with you, you know there is nothing to be nervous about. Where is Jack?" He turned to the room, concern clear in his eyes.
"Anaphylaxis?" Bane asked.
"Yes. She has Epipen in her purse." He turned to Graham. "Call the ambulance."
Right when he was saying that, Jack emerged from the corridor with her bounty.
"I've got it!"
With practiced movement Sven fished out the cylindrical device, then jammed it in Anna's thigh. He watched her like a hawk, not even taking his eyes off her when he discarded the spent shell of epinephrine. She settled a bit, drawing seemingly deeper breaths, a bit less frantic and even smiling shyly.
It didn't seem to work.
She wheezed shortly after getting the drug, clawing at her father's suit, eyes wide with incomprehension.
"I don't understand, it should have helped immediately."
He was shell-shocked, shaking his head and inspecting Anna's pupils and pulse.
"It's expired." Bane supplied, inspecting the pen. "Six months."
"Even so." The doctor shook his head.
Bane moved closer. Sven lay Anna down on her back, tipping her head to ease her breathing.
"How long until the ambulance arrives?"
"Ten minutes," Graham reported.
"Does she carry a spare?" Bane inquired.
"I don't think so, you check her purse. Grace, do you have epinephrine?"
"No, we never needed it before."
Cursing under his breath the doctor frowned, monitoring deteriorating state of his daughter. Meanwhile, Bane switched to stand by the hostess, asking her something in a hushed voice. Helena slid closer, as did Graham.
"I'm not sure," Grace was saying, then she turned to her husband, clutching onto his forearm. "Dear, do we have an AED?"
He nodded patting her hand reassuringly, communicating something wordlessly to Bane.
"Yes in the car, I'll go get it... Just in case."
Other guests were huddled in groups, unerringly staring at the pair occupying the sofa.
Anna started wheezing terribly, an awful strained and gurgling sound. Her hands flailed, weakly hooking on her father's suit, trying to find purchase, to ground herself in her panic.
"To the floor," Bane ordered. He moved to the doctor so fast some people gasped, but he didn't care, focused on gently transferring Anna down.
Her chest raised quickly in shallow panicked conclusions. She was suffocating.
Then, it all stopped.
"Don't do this to me, fight!" Sven ordered, lapsing back to his native Norwegian, his voice breaking, full of sorrow.
Bane bent down, his ear by Anna's mouth, face turned toward her chest.
"Ten seconds not breathing, CPR," he noted, already putting his hands on her sternum and starting a fast, powerful rhythm to keep her brain oxygenated.
Steps thudded in the corridor. Graham came back with a black bag, jogging to the place where Bane was still working on keeping Anna on the brink of life. Sven snatched the AED as soon as the host neared them, violently tearing open the attached medkit, looking for scissors.
"Keep your composure," Bane ordered.
Surprisingly, the doctor nodded, and with a deep breath set to work on cutting Anna's clothes. For a brief moment Bane had to stop massaging her heart, so he immediately switched to turn the AED on.
A pleasant female voice instructed them to contact the emergency number.
"How much time passed?" Sven asked Graham.
"Since the call? Two minutes."
The voice continued, saying they needed to attach the electrodes.
Anna's chest was stripped naked, so Bane set on immediately to attach the device, giving one pad to the doctor. The machine beeped after a short while and the most terrifying message played out loud in the terrified silence of the room.
"No heart rhythm detected. Shock advised."
"Clear," Sven's and Bane's voice boomed in unison, and the scientist pressed the button.
Rush of electricity coursed visibly through Anna's body, contorting her muscles like a life-sized puppet in a B-grade horror movie.
But this was real.
"No heart rhythm detected. CPR one minute."
The machine beeped the pace, immediately picked up by Bane.
"Graham go outside, bring the emergency crew in as soon as possible," Sven ordered, drawing impossible strength to stay as collected as possible. His child was dying before his very eyes, and there was nothing he could do, save for what the stranger before him was already helping with, his expertise startling. Anna's ribs crunched audibly, her body limp under Bane's hands, like a terrifyingly unresponsive doll insensitive to the worldly stimuli.
Prompts from the device repeated the same pattern twice, shock and a minute of massage. The second time around Sven changed Bane, with a pained, shocked expression on his face. The scientist sat back on his haunches, eyes never leaving the woman before him.
Then, they all gasped in relief when the AED announced:
"Heart rhythm detected. Observe the patient. Next evaluation in two minutes."
The breathing was faint, and Anna didn't regain consciousness.
When the EMT team arrived, Bane straightened and strolled over to Helena, gathering her to his chest, kissing top of her head with a sigh.
Only then she felt the trembling in her limbs.
R&R!
I'm dying to know what you think. :)
Review responses here:
Guest: good to be back to writing. :) And there will be one more tiny tiny little chapter after this. And then smut break. and then plot. A lot of serious plot and drama!
Sxevlbtch: I hope the murder mystery didn't disappoint!
So, question time!
Is any of you lovely readers from Upper Michigan?
I need some questions answered for a project. Project involving Bane.
Ping me here, or on my Twitter or Tumblr!