Arsenic for the Soul Page 3

  Vivian reeled back from the waxy smell of Crenshaw.

  “Now go back to the emergency room and scrub down the equipment. If I have to, I’ll drag you back in there—”

  Crenshaw suddenly noticed dozens of eyes focused on him. Nurses and technicians stopped in the middle of their tasks to watch the showdown between the surgeon and the equally feisty Vivian.

  “Clean up the room. Now.”

  Vivian glared into his scathing eyes.

  “Do it yourself.” She turned and walked away. This time she felt a slap on the back. She almost spun around with a specially prepared fist when she was greeted by cheers and congratulations.

  “Way to go, new girl!”

  Another rough slap on her shoulders almost knocked her over as a student lauded her with praise.

  “I’ve never seen anyone take on Crenshaw like that and survive! You’re something else.”

  “He’s nothing special. Just another washed up ego hiding behind a doctorate.”

  “Isn’t that the truth! You watch yourself, okay? We need someone like you to put Crenshaw back in his cage.”

  “Glad to help,” Vivian chuckled. Yes, a cage was a fitting place for the crabby surgeon. Or better yet, maybe he would wander into a medical supply closet and it would “mysteriously” lock behind him if Vivian wandered nearby.

  As the students scattered, Vivian heard a chirping voice behind her.

  “Better make sure you’re still in the program tomorrow.” She looked at a sneering girl who was also in the trauma room when they admitted the woman. “If you know what’s best for you, of course.”

  Vivian considered her smug face for a moment.

  “You see the ER room behind you? You can either shut your mouth or I’ll undo the plastic surgery on your face.”

  The girl glared at her before scurrying away.

  Still shaking from the sting of humiliation, Vivian wandered through the halls. Had she made a mistake in pinning all of her hopes on this nursing program? What if she didn’t catch on and learn the ropes? Mistakes weren’t as forgivable in a hospital—they were a matter of life or death.

  Only one person could assuage her doubts now.

  She spied her father in the recovery room. His forehead was wrinkled in agitation and his charcoal eyes flickered dangerously. Lying immobile in the cubicle, he reminded her of a restless, caged animal—or an angry bear that would just as soon devour you as it would snuggle up to you.

  A dusting of gray hair covered his scalp. Vivian had lost track of how old he was now, but she knew he had to be peaking in his mid-fifties.

  His voice grated against the chime of beeping monitors as soon as she entered.

  “What does it feel like to wear those scrubs and poke and prod the patients?”

  “Another word out of you and I might order a sedative.”

  Despite his tone, his eyes glowed at the sight of his daughter.

  “Glad to see you’re getting the hang of things,” he chuckled. “How are you liking it so far? Getting your hands dirty out in the field?”

  Vivian shrugged.

  “I feel a little helpless, to be honest. I don’t know what I’m doing yet until someone yells at me.”

  “That will change soon enough. Just give yourself time to learn and adjust. I’m sure you’ll be twice the nurse that these amateurs are. Can you believe they set some second-year student on me who couldn’t stick a needle in my vein? I thought she was going to butcher my arm the way she kept jamming it in there. If that nurse didn’t take over, they’d probably have to send me back to surgery!”

  Vivian grinned.

  “Nice to see your customary optimism shining through the morphine. Yeah, you must be recovering.”

  “Tell that to the damned doctors so I can get out of here. I feel like an oddity on display for these hopeless students—no offense.”

  “Don’t worry, I value my life enough not to come near you with a needle.”

  “Smart girl.” Keung rolled over on the bed and looked out the window.

  Vivian wondered what he must be enduring every day, confined to a bed instead of working. He spent far too much time in the hospital that she forgot what it felt like to see him seated at the dinner table or reading a newspaper in his private study.

  These days, Vivian only shared her evening meals with her mother. She would inevitably glance at the head of the table and sink a little deeper into her chair when her father’s spot was empty.

  When she visited him in the hospital, he seemed a subdued version of the man who always chided her about responsibilities. But how could he not feel that way when so much surgery and medication dulled his mind?

  He turned away from the window and smiled at Vivian.

  “Do you remember what I told you before you were accepted into this program?”

  “Well, you said a lot of things, most of them falling somewhere in the realm of studying every night, ending my social life, and no dating for two years. You’re an absolute tyrant.”

  “Well, yes, there was that, but you’re forgetting the most important part. I hoped it would stick a little better than my tyrannical edicts, but maybe you need a gentle reminder. You’re a capable woman and I see so much greatness and potential in you. Don’t let anyone discourage you from your dreams. It won’t be easy at first but you’ll find your way, one day at a time. Your mother and I have faith in you.”

  “I didn’t know the drugs made you this sappy, Dad. Thank God they’re taking you off that stuff in a few days. You’ll be back to your grumbling self in no time.”

  In truth, she couldn’t imagine she would be standing here today. So many obstacles once barred her way to this program, but she clearly overcame them. In spite of it, her first day in the hospital was hardly what she anticipated.

  She recalled the woman who died in the ER and the strange lesions on her limbs. She would wager her life that it wasn’t caused by drug use or infection.

  Whatever the mystery ailment was, it didn’t sit well with her. Crenshaw was too quick to write it off as drug use.

  She refused to accept his narrow explanation—it didn’t matter if he was a brilliant surgeon or not.

  Keung studied the furrow of her daughter’s eyebrows and the simmering discontent.

  “Is something troubling you?”

  The biting doubts flowed from Vivian and she smiled at her father.

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  THREE

  The icy winds chased Camilla into the foyer of Florenci Apartments. The doors whipped shut behind her with a gasp of ice-chilled air. Camilla was instantly cocooned in the warmth of the Victorian-esque building. On any other day she would have gushed over its nostalgic charm.

  Today it bore a haunting resemblance to Vesely Manor, and that comparison did little to tame her nerves.

  The indoor garden sprawled before her looked like a darkened forest in the buzzing lights. Tongues of wind hissed through the vents and flicked her hair.

  The cage elevator chimed as it settled on the first floor and yawned open. The skeletal doors slammed shut behind her heels as soon as she entered. Camilla felt like a canary in a cage before she was served up to a diabolical creature. Was there any worse feeling than a sense of entrapment? Perhaps that was why she refused to work in a cubicle.

  More perturbing than cramped spaces was the thought of being watched from afar. She couldn’t escape the feeling that someone had been watching her earlier at the manor ruins.

  She could hardly blame a curious passer-by for pausing to stare at the cremated ruins and wonder what it looked like in its glory days. Before the manor perished, it lured its fair share of tourists and trespassers. Stories about a ghostly woman wandering the gardens on winter nights only added to the allure.

  Of course, she had always been lured there for more sentimental reasons. Luckily for her, Uncle Sebastian possessed a spare key to the estate. The Vesely Manor provided a quiet place to think when Camilla’s life s
eemed overrun with worry. It was a refuge that offered escape from the bustle of Prague, even if she felt the chill of her ancestors at her back.

  It connected her with a part of her past that she longed to understand, no matter how treacherous it seemed. Somehow, knowing where she came from added to her blanket of security and belonging. She supposed it was better than going about her life feeling like she was just dropped on her uncle’s doorstep.

  But perhaps it was time to let go of the dreary past and move forward. It didn’t offer the same refuge anymore.

  She would never set foot in the Vesely Manor again.

  Camilla realized the elevator had stopped long ago while she was pondering her past and future. How interchangeable they seemed sometimes. The bar-like doors gaped open to the bluish hall.

  She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her plush chair and indulge her guilty pleasure of fantasy novels. A cup of honey lavender tea would also soothe her worries. She could almost taste the satisfying brew as she fished for her keys.

  Her hand paused on the chilled door handle. The eerie feeling that chased her into the foyer suddenly coiled around her throat.

  She stole a quick glance over her shoulder. A black fog of shadows drenched the hall, thick enough to suffocate sound. Was she expecting clever eyes on her now? She didn’t even hear the other tenants stirring in their rooms.

  Her key felt as heavy as stone as she jammed it in the lock. To her surprise, the door swung in with little resistance.

  She also saw the deadbolt and chain littered on the floor.

  Camilla’s brain screamed to run but her muscles were taut with fear. Someone had invaded the sanctity of her home. He could still be here, she thought. She clutched the door handle as though it could be her only lifeline to a society that was rapidly shrinking. This might be her last chance to call for help. A stranger could be lurking just around the kitchen door, waiting to end her life with one catastrophic misstep.

  She thought of the kitchen knives stowed away in the drawers and how they might be clutched tightly in someone’s hand for more malevolent purposes.

  She slapped at her pockets for something to use as a weapon.

  A dry laugh loosed from her throat when she felt the ballpoint pen in her jeans. Little good it would do against a stainless steel blade pressed to her throat.

  Renewed panic pumped through her heart when she thought of Felix, her pet cat. Normally, he would curl around her feet as soon as she entered.

  She made a quick study of her homely quarters. A potted plant rested in the corner beside her favorite reading chair. Bookshelves towered against the mocha-colored walls, resplendent with engraved plaques and a lifetime’s worth of fairy tales and books.

  Across the living room, a diamond-shaped window afforded a picturesque view of Old Town Square. Once more she was tempted to sprint into the hall and flee this nightmare. Instead of granting her sweet escape, her limbs froze.

  A newspaper clipping rested on the dining table. Against her better judgment, she approached the scene. Camilla felt as though she was sloshing through waist-high water with each step across the Persian rugs. She could already make out the headline on the paper.

  After all, she wrote the front page story for the newspaper Blaze.

  Reign of terror ends with Magdalene Midnight Mission

  The breath hammered out of her chest as she saw the blood gleaming in luscious trails across the newsprint, sluicing into a single word that chilled her to the marrow: SINNER

  She bolted for the door. She almost reached it when she saw something hanging from the ceiling fan.

  An unrecognizable mess of flesh and fur dangled from the blades.

  Terror boiled up in her throat in an abyssal scream.

  * * *

  Vivian’s heart bobbed up and down as she sped down the roads to Florenci Apartments. Camilla phoned her a short while ago and sounded hysterical and out of breath.

  “The lock was broken and they left blood and a message and I don’t know why this is meant for me—the police are coming—I’ll hunt down the bastard who did this—”

  Vivian’s brakes screeched to a halt when she saw the police cars outside the complex. She often visited Camilla at her apartment and stayed overnight to watch drama films together. This rendezvous felt far removed from those happy occasions.

  She launched up the stairs to the third floor, hoping Camilla was all right.

  An officer immediately barred the way.

  “Young lady, this is a crime scene and no one is permitted inside. I have to ask you to turn back.”

  “I need to see Camilla!”

  “Please turn around and let us handle this.” Vivian stared anxiously down the hall, waiting for Camilla to emerge from the apartment and grant her much needed relief. She spotted her in the shadows, speaking quietly with an officer. Camilla locked eyes with Vivian and the sight startled her. She backed away down the stairs, unsure of what she saw.

  All of the blood had been drained from Camilla’s face. Whatever ghastly crime scene concealed in her apartment surely left its imprint on her brain.

  Dusk fell by the time Camilla shuffled outside to greet Vivian.

  “Thanks for coming to see me. I’m sorry about the officers and making you wait. Weird, isn’t it? I’m so used to interviewing cops but not the other way around.”

  “What happened?”

  Camilla wrapped her jacket tighter against the baying wind. It took a few minutes to find her voice.

  “Someone broke into my apartment while I was away. The deadbolt was on the floor when I entered. They hurt my cat, too.” Her eyes swelled and cold sweat beaded on her throat. “I can’t get over the shock of seeing his body.”

  She cast nervous glances toward one of the windows, where her apartment presumably resembled something out of a nightmare.

  Suddenly, Vivian noticed the pendant encircling Camilla’s throat. The vial of ashes glimmered where her red scarf once hung. Gone was the black eyeshadow that cloaked her emerald eyes. Those orbs looked solemn now in the evening glow. Sometime over the summer, Vivian noticed a change in her personality and it stemmed from the moment she finished her crusade against the Magdalene asylums. It was as if Camilla’s life’s work ended in that final blow to her family’s legacy—and now she spent her days in restless confusion.

  “Where did you go?”

  Camilla’s sigh said it all.

  “Vesely Manor.”

  “Again? I’m beginning to think you have a sick obsession.”

  “I don’t know what I expect to feel when I go there, but it’s neither helping nor hurting me. Perhaps it’s a sign that something in my life remains unresolved. Sure, my family is dead and the asylums are condemned, but this feeling doesn’t sit well with me. I feel like things are just getting started.”

  “Here’s an idea, how about you put all that nervous energy into writing a book? Obviously the newspaper doesn’t keep you busy enough.”

  “That’s partially the problem. The police think I have an admirer who likes my articles, as they lightly put it. But what kind of sick admirer writes ‘sinner’ in blood and leaves it for me?”

  “What?”

  “Sinner. That’s the word he left behind. And perhaps it’s no coincidence that it was written on an article about a Magdalene asylum—one that I wrote.”

  Vivian balked at the possibility.

  “You don’t think one of your relatives is alive, do you? And that he or she wants to harm you for shutting down the asylums?”

  Camilla gazed down the shrouded streets of the city of a hundred spires. Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral remained the dominant elements in this eclectic mix of cyberpunk, medieval, and noir vice. Yet no place here called out to her more than the home she couldn’t return to.

  “I don’t know what this means. Perhaps it’s nothing more than a disgusting prank devised to silence me about the asylums. Either way, the police think it’s best if I find another place to sta
y. I’m not too keen on sleeping in my own bed anyway. The idea of going back in there eats away at my nerves.”

  “I don’t blame you. So where will you stay?”

  Camilla absently kicked the backpack of gathered belongings at her feet.

  “I have a few friends I can call on. I shouldn’t have any problem staying there for a few nights until the lock is replaced. Then we’ll see what happens.”

  “No, you’re staying with us.” Before Camilla could protest, Vivian scooped up the backpack and hoisted it on her shoulders.

  “Us?”

  Vivian grinned mischievously.

  “Yeah, I’m sure my mom won’t mind a troublemaker like you taking up the spare bedroom. We usually reserve it for relatives, but I guess you’ve earned that privilege after all we’ve been through, right? You don’t have anyone else to take you in, do you?”

  Camilla restricted her inner circle to a few close friends, but none of them enjoyed a more intimate trust than Vivian. After all, their bond was born out of braving the deadliest ordeals. A friendship forged in scars and scrapes on the playground had its merits, but it couldn’t compare to a sacred pact like theirs.

  Camilla’s pink lips creased in a smile that set her eyes ablaze. In that moment, Vivian recognized the girl she knew who always hungered for life and laughed in the face of danger.

  “Thank you, Vivian. I really appreciate this.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’ve always wanted a little sister to torment.”

  * * *

  Camilla settled down in the spare bedroom with a belly full of fried shrimp and mein noodles. Now she believed the tales about Mrs. Xu’s extraordinary cooking. It had been much too long since she shared a meal with anyone.

  She curled up in the cozy bed when Vivian, walked through the door clutching a bottle of wine. The sight of Shiraz teased Camilla’s appetite almost as much as the traditional Chinese supper.

  “Thank God. I could use a glass or two after today.”

  “Why stop there? Wine is only good after the first three glasses,” Vivian chuckled, popping the cork off and inhaling the decadent scent of blackberries and plums.