Doctor Collins was never pleased to be called away, but could be lured by a good story. Alan, Eric and the nurse met him at the first-aid portal. He nodded to them and went straight to the patient. He and the nurse discussed Burns' condition while Alan and Eric sat on nearby cots.
"Alan, yer looking tired."
Alan rubbed his eyes. "I am tired. We're both wearing too many hats to do a good job on any one of them. Set one of your people to review Reaper numbers worldwide. Or see if you can borrow a minion from Solway. We need to know when we're about to run out, so we can begin field training for our Admins who passed their final exams. Watch for transfers of Seniors from countries not at war." He watched Collins open Burns' shirt to listen to his heart. "I hoped things would improve when the humans started vaccinating their troops for typhoid fever. And it has, a little. But that new disease they had at Étaples and Aldershot… Our best hope is still that the war will end before– before we do."
Eric looked at Alan's profile. "Yer not sleeping."
"Not well, no. So much to do. Wake up after a couple of hours, get over to the hospice, work four hours, come back to bed for an hour, start over with the teaching and reaping and Branch work. I try to warn everyone of what's coming, and nobody hears."
"What are ye doing at the hospice?"
"It's this huge drafty echoing space. We're walling it off into wards that are small enough to heat and light. Maintenance can always use extra hands. We're holding ladders, handing up tools, painting, while they run electrical and telephone wires. We assemble bedframes and tote mattresses. It frees up folks to run the plumbing for the new food service."
"Ye need rest. Can ye delegate some of yer desk work?"
"All my group are working at their limit. Nobody hears when I tell them what's coming."
"Collins can give ye some pills, can he not?"
"Nobody hears. Listen. We are running out of Reapers. I think I've been muted like Cassandra."
"I thought it was important to keep head injuries awake for a full day."
"Damn it. Eric, look at me. Concentrate. We. Are. Dying. Too. Fast. The system will implode. The Infernals and Celestials will invade our Realm and fight their battles here, destroying everything and everyone. Human souls will go unreaped. They will wander the human realm, going mad, being picked up randomly by the demons and angels. We are maybe a year away from the next disaster."
"Nae, laddie, we're fine. Don't worry. Burns will recover."
Collins came over and sat on a cot. "If you find the man who doped this patient, I want the first strike at him. We'll be checking his pulse every fifteen minutes for the next twelve hours. Rather than move him, I'll send a trainee or two to back up the nurses who are scheduled for the next two shifts. You look exhausted, Humphries. Here. One of these with the last meal of the day."
"I can't spare the time. They take too long to wear off."
"These are quite mild. You will take them or I will set you down for a week. You know about Burns."
"Yes. Since the day when Fancher was blinded. Burns had his first attack at the waystation and had to be helped back through the portal."
Eric looked sharply at Alan. "They kidnapped a man with Thorns? Good thing we found him before they realized they couldn't sell him."
"D'you think they wouldn't? Who's going to report them for substandard goods?"
Collins sighed. "A pity. When Burns wakes and is stable I will move him to the hospital. I'll talk to him and his partner when both are ready for discharge. Don't worry, I won't send them home before they are able to care for themselves. I will order Scheduling to leave them off the rolls for an extra day. Fancher will recover fully. Burns will be as well as he can be. He should be able to reap for some time yet. At the last, we can only offer pain management and rest."
Alan made one last desperate attempt. "We are losing more Reapers than we can train."
"I agree."
"What? You heard me? Because nobody here can hear me. Look!" Alan gestured towards Eric, who had wandered over to talk to the nurse.
"Mm. Interesting. First question. Is the compulsion laid on the person or the place? Can he hear you at home, at your local bar, in the human realm? Do I hear you because I know already? Slingby, come back here. You are losing Reapers at an unsustainable rate. You should know this, given your occupation. What are you doing about it?"
Eric blinked. "Ah, so we are. Other branches in the Realm are begging us for transfers of capable Seniors. We're telling them to draw from Africa, Asia, Australia and the Americas. But we can't keep it up. Not with the Thorns spreading so widely and the next catastrophe so close. We're seeing the first Branch failures on the Continent. If Madame Administrator had not stepped in, Bristol would've folded by now. Not much we can do but protect our people as much as we're allowed, and train our Admins to fight. We've already fortified this place to withstand a siege."
"There you go, Alan. They can hear it from someone not of this branch, or possibly not of this Division. Slingby, go tell one of your minions. If that does not work, gather all your staff and I'll tell 'em. That might break the compulsion. Second question. Who did it and why? Is someone trying to avoid panic? Or are they hoping to keep you from acting? I'll file an observation with my Uppers. This is going to need some skilled investigation at a high level, and your request might not be heard."
"Please do. I've been wondering about all the students who are leaving the Academy before graduation. Before, they were hunted down and culled. Now somebody has decided that they are a necessary labor source. They are arriving daily to work at the Hospice and its attendant soup kitchen. They're on the payroll and doing essential work. Mention that, please?"
"I shall. Well, Eric? Were you heard?"
"I was not. I've told Will that you have an important announcement for all hands. He's calling them together as soon as he's done his customary grump. Give him a moment."
"Will Richards and Johns stay for it?"
"Oh, yes. Try and stop them." Eric turned to Collins. "Will ye come back and repeat it for the next two shifts?"
"If necessary. We'll see how this goes. In any case, you take this man, feed him and shove one of these pills down his stubborn neck. Let him sleep it out. Shut up, Humphries, you'll lose a day now or a week in bed later. Don't think I won't commit you to the Hospital if you continue noncompliant. Although you're looking better than I expected."
Eric took his partner and the bottle of pills to the Cafeteria. There was no point in going to a restaurant; Alan had no appetite. He accepted small portions of whatever seemed least unappealing, pushed it around his plate, then managed to get most of it down. They returned home. Alan got ready for bed and took his pill obediently. Eric observed his resignation and did not like it.
"Me Light, don't grieve. Whatever happens, I am with you."
"Eric, can you hear me? I love you beyond all things."
"I hear, and I love you. I always have and always will."
"That was terrifying. I told you the truth as we vowed to do, and you could not hear me. As though we were separated by thick panes of glass. As though I was trapped between Realms. As though I was an unseen ghost. Eric, come lie down beside me. Please stay until I'm asleep."
"Me love. Here I am, as long as you'll have me. Are ye drowsy now? Ye'll feel better in the morning. We'll teach, and then we shall buy you a fine luncheon in the human realm. Over that we shall think and plan. Snuggle up now. I'll keep ye warm and safe."
The man was sitting quite still. The hand of an angel was on his shoulder. Most uncharacteristically, the man was telling the truth. It fell from his lips and pooled around him and scorched whatever it touched.
"I have no names to give you. We don't use names.
"We watch for somebody who won't be missed right away. When that Reaper was injured enough to be in hospital for a day or three, his partner became a prime choice. Very senior, very good at his job, and nobody to come looking for him before we could pass him on to our buyers. How were we to know that London counts noses at the end of the day? And then raises a stink about the missing, instead of assuming they're off getting drunk or laid? Nobody else does that. Bastards.
"What? Oh, our payment is the scythes of lost Reapers. You'd be surprised how many Admins are dissatisfied with their student scythes. And how many are collectors. They'll arrange all sorts of perks in exchange for a professional model, guaranteed used in battle. Still bloody? Even better.
"They arrange favorable scheduling, to group us in places where we can find targets and arrange transfer. Promotions? Rarely. They are very firm on that. Somebody who's not up to the job raises eyebrows and eventually is investigated. If you've got a true mismanagement mess like Bristol or Prenzlau on your hands, you can believe they are in no way connected with our business.
"They do offer easy posts in pleasant climates. Transfers to rear-echelon or noncombatant positions. Posts in remote areas with minimal population, if you want to spend the years reading or pursuing a hobby. You just have to be willing to store contraband for a day or two as needed. Of course, postings to any country not involved in this war. We steal Reapers from them, too, as long as they've served during local wars. Available at a slight discount because they have to adjust to the modern battlefield. We make it clear that we are not responsible if our customers throw them out into the trenches without any training. That kind of stupidity is why they have to buy help to begin with.
"Bad records wiped clean. Good records tainted, if you're a malicious sort. That's frowned on, though. Too easy to disprove; it invites inquiry. If you want to secede? False identities are created in the Human Realm, properties bought, bank accounts established, disappearances arranged. Turnovers after a few years, when the locals start to comment that you haven't aged a day. Paychecks duplicated, for those who want things that can be bought. As long as you're not too drunk to function. We must never attract attention.
"And, of course, they can register the scythes as properly returned to storage and the metal melted down for recasting. That's getting harder, though, can't do it at all in London these last six years. One crazy inconsiderate bastard ruining it for the rest of us. Ever since that incident with the scythe-metal bullets, Scythes is paying more attention to record-keeping. They've assigned nosy Juniors to review those records regularly. There's a generous reward for any discovery of fiddling the books, which makes it impossible to fiddle with those Juniors.
"Why are you surprised? We are not angels or demons. We are humans. We are physically stronger than we once were, but no smarter, no more talented. We exist in eternal punishment, from which no one is ever freed. We come from the Academy full of hope. We reap or push paper or stack boxes in endless overtime. Most of us work in miserable conditions under vicious managers determined to make us as unhappy as they are. Fifty years of that, and guess what? Hell's not much of a threat anymore. Especially for those who spend a lot of time injured, or work on Supplies' assembly lines. Confinement? Blessed, blessed rest.
You put us in a dark, dirty hole. We clean it up, paint, and find some comfortable chairs. You walk in and take that all away, every damn time. 'Too nice for clerks. Move them out and put my section in here.' We do not love you for it. Does that surprise you?
"We wreak whatever revenge is possible for our unbearable existence. Strict but inefficient compliance with the rules. Sabotage in small secret ways. Living down to expectations. Sometimes we just want a something nice for ourselves. Like that gold locket you wear, lady, does it make you feel special? Or your flashy watch, sir, did you steal from your Reaps to pay for it? We too will find something to value. We will remember any who come to take it. Sell them into slavery someday. We can wait. We have time.
"We are what you have made us, and very often worse, for you have taught us to hate. We're good at it. If we are good at nothing else, we are very good at hate. It's a human thing, mister angel. Listen and learn."
The transcript of the interview was sent to Director Spears, who read it and was silent. He passed it to Slingby, who read it and passed it to Humphries, who read it and agreed with every word. "We're so fortunate to work in London, in this Branch."
"Aye, we are, and we had to die to make it so. I will not remind ye what this place was like in 1883. Perhaps other places can improve without paying so great a price. But London Operations has a remarkably contented Admin staff as well. Bristol's new Admin is being entirely staffed from our waiting list. Perhaps the improvements will spread as the advantages become known. Now, are you willing to have guests tonight for tea? Charlie and Jonas will be freed from the hospital at shift's end. I want to ask them some questions about the abduction. I think it will be more comfortable for them to talk about it in an unofficial setting."
"Let me just send an intern over to the bakery for some biscuits or a cake. I'll go home and get things ready while you retrieve them. Let's brew up from that gift tin Sandriel gave me. It's really excellent."
Fancher's left arm was still a bit stiff. He and Burns were both grim and serious. They'd known, of course, but it was now officially recorded that Burns was in the early stages of spinae mortis. Alan set them on the comfortable sofa and brought out a tray of sandwiches and biscuits. Eric carried in his Brown Betty teapot, charged with the tea from Alan's special tin. He poured, and the fragrance seemed to brighten the room.
Pleasantries were exchanged and food enjoyed. The tea was exclaimed over. Then they got down to business.
"It seems callous, I know, but it was just the usual horrible massacre," sighed Fancher. "The angels were around but interested in something else going on nearby. Their instinct is to flock to a disturbance. You know how hard it is for fledglings to split forces."
Eric nodded.
"While they were distracted, a group of demons came after us. If that is a new strategy, it's unfortunately quite effective against inexperienced angels. I got jumped by a couple of nasties, and was doing pretty well against them, when – you don't have to believe this – I'll swear somebody in our own group tripped me. Probably an accident. But down I went and woke up in hospital. That's all I've got, sorry."
"Jonas, did you see any of that?"
"A little. Could I have another cuppa? Thanks. This is very good. Relaxing. Ah, to the best of my recollection, I saw Charlie attacked. Was a little busy myself at the moment and had to deal with that. Then Charlie was down. There were several French and Belgian reapers in a general melee around him but I did not see him fall. I fought towards him and somebody or something hit me from behind. Woke up in London having missed quite the adventure, or so I'm told. Did the angels ever show up?"
"According to Owen and Rhodri, no. A complaint has been filed. It's possible that there were too few of them to respond to more than one emergency," said Alan. "They're undermanned in much the same way as we are. I suspect the demons are as well. We're losing too many. But the humans are, too. When there is nobody left to fight, the war will end. Don't think that will be much longer."
"Well, with the Germans thinking it jolly fun to torpedo neutral and hospital ships, they've gotten the Americans to join their foes. You should hear the Maritime Reapers on the subject. Glad I'm a dry-lander."
"Aye. And that Zimmerman idiocy. Charlie, you're looking worn. My apologies. You need to go to bed."
"Alan, Eric, thank you for the tea, very kind of you. That's really good tea. But you're right. Come on, Charlie. You need to lie down."
Once they had gone, Alan left a telephone message for Collins. "For your information; Burns and Fancher came from the hospital to our apartment today. I told them. They heard me. Perhaps you have broken the Cassandra curse, or maybe it is only effective within the workplace."