Eventually, Jacob finally made it back to his room. Gabe and Georgie were in tow, and Devorah was starting to get a better understanding of their alliance. Jacob saw himself as something of a leader and head investigator, with Georgie as his assistant and Gabe the muscle.

If anyone asked Devorah, she would have rearranged them. Georgie would obviously be the fist of the operation. Jacob could have his fun thinking of himself as head investigator, but Gabe would be a better leader. For one thing, he clearly didn’t want a position like that. There was a nervous energy about him, but Devorah’s own anxiety had been an asset to her in a situation where people were trying to kill each other and then lie about it.

Well, it had been an asset until it very suddenly wasn’t. But Devorah didn’t want to think about it.

Devorah moved to lean against the wall as the three of them settled in Jacob’s bedroom- Gabe sitting on the edge of the bed, Georgie at the desk chair, and Jacob pacing.

“I don’t get why they wouldn’t talk to me,” Jacob complained.

Georgie shrugged. “You know their rule- information for information. Besides, they don’t like you.”

Devorah wished one of the three would put a name or face to these “theys.”

“Well, she didn’t need to be so offended. It’s not like I was wrong, my time is much more advanced and developed than hers.”

Georgie coughed, then put her hands up. “You’re not wrong! I’d give up just about anything to live in your time, or one even later than that. But people get defensive of where they come from.” Georgie’s voice went low. “Even if it’s utter shite.”

Gabe looked up from his hands. “It wasn’t the fanciest like, but I miss the ranch. Sure we don’t have them special outer nets, but nothing beats riding my horse on a warm sunny day.”

“Internet, Gabe,” Jacob corrected.

Gabe flinched and looked back down at his hands. “My bad.” He started to play with the corner of the quilt.

“Either way,” Georgie started to say, then coughed. The first cough was an almost delicate thing, a sound someone would make to clear the air. Or in this case, release a deluge. She coughed again, and again, and quickly they became nasty hacking things, giving Georgie no room to breathe.

Jacob looked concerned as Gabe quickly got up and went over to Georgie, rubbing soothing patterns on her back. He made shushing sounds, like one would make to soothe a spooked cat.

Thinking back, Devorah could recall a few times that Georgie had coughed. Devorah had written them off- thinking they were from dust allergies, or that it was a nervous tic. Clearly this was something more serious.

When Georgie eventually pulled back her hand and Devorah saw specks of blood, she had her answer. Consumption. How very period appropriate.

Consumption, more commonly known as tuberculosis, was a highly contagious disease. It had long since ceased to be a problem in Devorah’s era, but Georgie did seem to be from nineteenth century England. With its lack of sanitation and cramped living spaces, consumption was a major killer.

With the lack of masks and likely lackluster filtration, consumption could become a major problem in this game. The producers likely had a chance to completely cure Georgie when they brought her in. Why hadn’t they? Because it was period appropriate?

Devorah just hoped that the rest of the cast had been inoculated. Otherwise there could be a major problem on their hands. And the producers’ too. No one wanted to watch a house of people slowly die of illness.

Eventually, Georgie’s coughing subsided. “It’s hard to keep track, but I guess it’s about time to take you to Nour, huh?” Jacob said.

Georgie stuck out her tongue. “I hate that nasty stuff Doctor Bird makes.”

“It helps though, doesn’t it?” Jacob nudged Georgie. She turned her head away with a grimace. “Doesn’t it?”

“It helps with the coughing,” Georgie admitted, looking more like she was being interrogated than anything, “but it tastes like shite.”

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“I mean it’s not an antibiotic, but we don’t have any here.” Jacob said.

“I wish the kitchen was open at night,” Georgie grumbled. “I want tea. With honey.”

“I’ll make you some tea in the morning, Georgie.” Gabe offered. “But for now, let’s get you to the doctor.”

Though taking Georgie for her nightly medication was the right move, Devorah despaired as she watched them prepare to leave again. Gabe held out his arm, which Georgie took for support, and they left.

Jacob went to follow them, before a look of recognition passed over his face. “Oh, wait!” He said, then took Devorah’s glasses and put them in his pocket.

Devorah didn’t know what his plans were, but she was glad to be taken along. Even if she felt like cattle being pulled along by a rope, it was still better than just sitting and waiting. Alone. Forever. With no one to talk to aside from Riley over neural messages.

Scraping up a semblance of dignity, Devorah walked behind the trio. She didn’t have access to a map of the house, but based on the long hall and series of doors it seemed like there was a specific section of the mansion laid out as a dormitory space. Devorah thought back to her own game. Made to look like a section of a city wrapped in fog, Devorah’s own residence had been a small apartment above a curio shop.

Henry had lived in an apartment above hers- or as he had insisted on calling it, a flat.

This new game was practically claustrophobic instead. The hall was narrow and dimly lit with gas lamps. Hardwood floors and unadorned walls, broken up only by single plain doors, made the hallway seem almost like a hotel. It was quiet, unnaturally so. Unless the entire cast was sleeping or traveling at night, Devorah would be willing to bet there was some sort of sound canceling. Would be a shame if a murder was interrupted because everyone could hear the screams.

Speaking of, the trio stopped for a moment at a door that was left partially ajar. There were several small gifts laid at the foot of it- a bundle of dried flowers, a ripe orange. A plate of some sort of flatbread that was starting to grow mold. Several small figures carved out of wood- including a tiny cat. A small tea cup filled with a dark liquid.

After an appropriate moment of silence, the group continued on. Devorah found herself strangely touched. This small shrine was likely made at the door of someone who had died in game. Murderer or victim, she could not say. But it seemed this person was loved, at least a little bit.

Devorah thought back to the ouija board, the playing of which heralded her existence in this new world. Was this the door of whoever that group had been trying to speak to? They were clearly beloved.

Who had mourned Devorah when she had gone? Had her family received her body? Was the last bit of her physicality deep in the sands of Samaria, nourishing the worms and the sparse desert growth? Or was it disposed of? Burned and scattered in space?

Did she even want to know?

The trio continued on down the hall, pulling Devorah along with them. When they reached one a few feet down, Jacob knocked.

It was Kefilwe who opened the door. She had changed for the night, and was in a long, patterned night shirt, and her hair was bound up in a bonnet.

Didn’t they say they were going to visit someone named Nour? Who was possibly a bird and also a doctor?

“Hello again!” She said with a bright smile. “You guys here for Georgie’s potion?”

“It is not a potion,” said a new voice from beyond the door, “but an elixir made to warm the humors.”

Devorah shot a look towards Jacob. Predictably, he was scowling. The idea of humors was bunk, but it was really funny to see how much Jacob detested early medicine. Devorah would be willing to bet anything that this potion maker was doing the best with the materials they were given.

“Miss Georgie’s uh, humors, need realigning doc.” Gabe said, carefully shuffling Georgie forward. “She was coughing up blood again.”

“Was she?” The new voice said. It lowered, and said something inaudible before raising their voice again. “Pray, give me a moment to wash my hands. I will be with you shortly.”

“Blood again, Georgie?” Kefilwe said, reaching out to put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I thought you were doing better! You were barely coughing when we were exploring together. I’m sorry to hear you’re not doing well.”

“Better than I was before I got here.”

“I just wish we had some sort of antibiotic,” Jacob said, clearly frustrated. “I don’t get it! Whoever brought us here has to know about them, if we’re all really from different eras!”

“Unfortunately, we are not in possession of your ‘antibiotics.’” The new voice said, closer than ever before. And when they finally came into Devorah's field of vision, she gasped.

It seemed there was a reason this person was nicknamed Doctor Bird- they were a real plague doctor! Complete with the robes, beak, and everything. Their costume restrictions must have been pretty strict too. Even as Kefilwe changed into pajamas, this person was still in full regalia. They had something of a powerful presence, too. The doorway seemed smaller with them in reach, and Georgie even more delicate.

“Though we do not have the medicine of your time, I am more than capable of utilizing what can be found in this house to create elixirs for Georgie,” they said, tone somewhat frosty. With their face fully covered, it was somewhat difficult to parse how they were feeling. “Imagine, if you will, that there was no one with my skill set, nor were there antibiotics. Do I not work to ease Miss Georgie’s pain? Do I not work to assure she has more energy, and a cheerful demeanor? Do I not do this work asking for no form of payment? You insult me.”

Red-faced, Jacob clearly was moving to respond before Gabe put a large hand over his mouth. “We appreciate your expertise, doc, promise.”

“Yeah, I appreciate it,” Georgie echoed. “I don’t know what’s in your juice, because it tastes like piss, but it really does help me talk easy. So, thank you.”

The doctor sighed. “Of course. And please, where are our manners? Do come in, Mathilde is in the lavatorium watching the medicine for me.”

Kefilwe held the door open for the trio to come into the room. Unseen, Devorah snuck in behind them.