Aimless, Jacob stood in the doorway of the infirmary. He looked down at his hands, sightless.
Devorah kind of felt a little bad for him. He wasn’t a bad guy, not really, and he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. Of course, not that having good-to-mediocre intentions while accidentally almost killing a nun made almost killing that nun okay. But Mathilde already forgave. As shaky as he mind probably was from the shock, Devorah knew she was probably sincere and would likely reiterate.
Even if she couldn’t truly forgive Jacob, Mathilde likely would announce she had anyway, if only to keep up holy appearances.
Either way, Jacob waiting in the infirmary made Devorah’s life… Not-life. A little easier. For one, it meant that when Nour and Kefilwe managed to get Mathilde back, Devorah would likely have front row seats to the action. Secondly, it gave Devorah a moment to inspect the infirmary.
Ironically, the bedroom had originally belonged to Mathilde herself. Like the one Mathilde, Nour and Kefilwe shared, the room had been heavily doctored. The room was split into two sections. The side of the room closer to the bathroom had two beds jammed in, both with ramshackle curtains hanging above. One bed was empty, curtains pulled back to reveal clean white sheets and a thin blanket. The other was curtained off, and Devorah could see the thin outline of someone sleeping.
The other side of the room had two desks pushed together to create a large table. There were lots of little bottles on its surface, and Devorah moved closer to take a look. Someone had taken the time to write notes about each little bottle, as each sat on top of a piece of paper. The notes looked like they were written in Arabic- the notetaker was probably Nour, then. Though she found the script beautiful, Devorah couldn’t make out what any of the notes said.
That left her with the bottles and jars themselves. A good number were unfamiliar to Devorah, and based on the labels on the bottles, they were meant to hail from the time period of the haunted mansion. It was proclaimed panacea after panacea, each little bottle claiming to have the cure from everything from headaches to hysteria to hemorrhoids. A few bottles were cleaned out, and held concoctions that looked a lot like what Georgie had been forced to drink the night before. It was likely those bottles were filled with Nour’s homemade brews.
But there was one bottle that really caught Devorah’s attention for a few reasons. The first was that she recognized it. Cold Killer was a staple in every modern medicine cabinet. Just seeing the bottle itself brought back memories of her childhood. Of nights curled up next to her mother, waiting for the medicine to kick in and take her cough away. Even though the syrup worked fast, her grandmother insisted pairing it with soup would make it more effective.
Devorah could almost smell the chicken soup, with its carrots and dill and special bite-sized matzah balls…
Before she could fall into a depression, wondering if she would ever be able to have her family’s soup again, Devorah forced herself to focus on the more important thing.
The Cold Killer bottle itself was outlined in a bright red in Devorah’s vision, calling it into attention. After a few seconds of consistent, confused staring, a small identifying label popped into Devorah’s sightline.
COLD KILLER
SPONSORED BY TULLIP
Ah. That explained that.
Product Placement.
Devorah just watched that flickering red outline around the bottle. Fond memories battled with the reality staring back at her, right in the face. This medicine from her childhood, this cure for the common cold… How could something that made so many lives easier be part of this game? How could Devorah reconcile the healing with the hurt?
It was at that point that a large crowd rushed into the infirmary, batting Jacob out of the way. Devorah herself dove to the side, narrowly avoiding getting poofed by the combined panic and efforts of Nour, Kefilwe, and newcomers Tiberius and Lupe as they hurriedly brought Mathilde onto the open bed. Tiberius, who was holding Mathilde, carefully placed her down. Nour immediately ran over to the medical supplies and grabbed a few items, while Kefilwe kept pressure on Mathilde’s wounds.
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Lupe stood guard at the door, arms crossed, face serious.
And for all that Devorah wondered if Mathilde would die, and in doing so join Devorah in her unhappy haunts, that clinical side of her succumbed to the pity building in her once-human heart. Mathilde looked so small on that bed. Her pale skin was quickly becoming a full-on pallor, the color nearly matching her white habit. Mathilde’s breaths came fast and laborious, and her eyes moved about the room, searching.
For a moment, Devorah thought Mathilde was meeting her eyes. Before shock could set in, Mathilde’s eyes looked up towards the ceiling. Her lips formed silent words, likely in prayer.
After a few moments, Tiberius wordlessly took over keeping pressure on the wound while Kefilwe ran past a silent Jacob, clearly intent on something. Nour was readying a set of bandages along with a series of potions and ointments.
Eventually, Nour washed their hands and pulled out a pair of scissors before moving forward towards Mathilde. Carefully, they set the scissors to the habit, and began to cut, when Mathilde thrashed on the bed like a being possessed.
“No!” Mathilde screamed. Her lost eyes turned wild. With her uninjured arm she beat at Tiberius who was, at that point, both putting pressure on the wound and keeping Mathilde in place. “Not with any men in the room! Nour, please!”
Nour loomed over Mathilde, still inscrutable behind the mask. “Mathilde, I beseech you, please be reasonable.”
“I beg of you,” Mathilde sobbed. “Please. Please, Nour. No one can see. I can’t let anyone see.”
Tiberius, with his hand still on Mathilde’s shoulder, cast a look towards Nour.
Nour was silent and still. Then came an audible sigh.
“It will make my job more difficult, and will increase your risk of illness.” Nour said.
Mathilde stopped. “Please,” she whispered.
There was another sigh from behind the mask, then Nour waved Tiberius away. “Tiberius, Lupe, please. Return to your patrol. Mathilde is in good hands, and I am capable of finishing this on my own. I appreciate your assistance in moving Mathilde, but I must bid you to take your leave.”
Hands still bloody, Tiberius nodded in his assent before rejoining with Lupe. Lupe smacked him on the shoulder in a companionable manner. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get your hands clean.” She looked in at Nour. “Let us know if you need anything. We’ll be in the area to make sure no one tries to take advantage.”
Nour nodded. “Jacob, you as well.”
As if shocked out of a daze, Jacob jolted. “Right,” he said. Hesitated. Then, “Mathilde, I am so sorry.”
“Now is not the time,” Nour barked, then made shooing motions.
But Mathilde turned her head to look at Jacob. “As I said, you are forgiven in both my eyes and the eyes of God. But please, Jacob. Leave me to my healing.”
He nodded, a jerky thing. “Yeah, of course. Thank you for being so understanding. I’ll…” And he gestured towards the door, where Lupe and Tiberius seemed to be waiting for him.
“Go,” Nour said. “And close the door behind you.”
Finally, Jacob did as instructed. Lupe was waiting for him out in the hall.
“Where did Tiberius go?” Jacob asked.
“Went to clean his hands,” Lupe said simply.
Devorah watched as they simply stared at each other. Then Lupe sighed, and threw her arm around Jacob’s neck.
“Come walk with me,” she said.
Jacob squirmed in her grasp, but acquiesced. Slowly and in the disjointed manner of those unfamiliar with each other, they ambled down the hall in an uncomfortable silence. Devorah trailed behind.
“So,” Lupe began once they were far enough, “what happened?” Her tone was casual enough, but Devorah could see her hand tighten around Jacob’s shoulder.
“Nothing!” Jacob said quickly, before immediately course correcting. “I mean, obviously something did happen. But it was an accident.” Jacob paused, clearly waiting for Lupe to ask more. But she said nothing. Nervously, he continued. “I was going down the hall and bumped into Mathilde, and then she bumped into one of the traps. If anything, she shouldn’t have been standing so close to a trap! I mean, if she knew it was a trap.”
“She did,” Lupe said simply.
“I thought so, based on how Kefilwe reacted. What were they even doing there?” Jacob asked.
Lupe just shook her head. “That doesn’t matter right now. Jacob, I just want you to know one thing.” She released him from her hold, and looked Jacob right in the face. Though Jacob was of an average height for a man, Lupe was a tall woman. She looked down on Jacob.
It was kind of hot, to be honest.
“You need to watch yourself,” she hissed.
Jacob swallowed. “I will,” he promised.
Lupe continued. “And you better pray that Mathilde makes it through this. Or it’s your head on the block.”
“I know,” he said, miserably.
“Good,” Lupe said. She stepped back. “I’m going to be in the area. Let me know if you need anything.” And she stalked off down the hall.
Jacob just buried his head in his hands.