Werumed-san—West Elpeck Medical’s chipper mascot—was more than just a charming face. He was a business instrument. On the hospital’s payroll, you’d find payments made out to professional mascot performers. We hired them to wear thick, felty, suits made in Werumed-san’s image. The mascot-wearers’ jobs were many and varied. They traveled WeElMed’s halls doing everything from comforting frightened children to advertising the latest goods for sale at the hospital’s many retail stores: pharmacies, gift shops, electronics stores, and the like.

I never imagined one of them would be my patients, certainly not while still in full mascot dress.

I muttered under my breath. “Holy Angel…”

The sight was… unnerving, to say the least. Any sign of the patient was hidden in the full body mascot costume. Their head was a fat, blond-haired pancake resting against the wall and the headboard, the face forever fixed in a sunny grin. Werumed-san’s white medical coat had yellow-green scrubs peeking out from underneath. The clothes were made of the same felt material as the mascot’s skin. And Werumed-san had no fingers: just black lines on mitten-shaped hands.

Briefly, the demented thing turned its gaze to me, and all I could do was avert my eyes and look away.

Mascots gave me the creeps.

A young black woman—maybe in her early twenties—sat on the floor next to her bed. Like Kurt, she’d pointed herself away from Merritt and Letty, tucking her legs close to her chest and burying her head in her arms and knees, sobbing quietly into the sleeves of her hospital gown. The muffled sobs told me everything I needed to know. Her sorrows kept her so still, you might have thought she was just a statue.

The console on the wall outside of Room 268 had indicated there were six patients in Room 268. I didn’t need to guess who the sixth one was.

Lopé was up and about, doing exactly what I’d thought he’d do. Exactly what he’d been programmed to do.

Proselytize.

Lopé stood in the middle of the walkway in between the rows of beds on either side of the room, with his back facing me.

“So, you see,” he explained, “even though Lassedite Lothair maintained otherwise, in ‘reforming’ the old Church into the Angelical Church, Lassedite Lothair strayed from the Angel’s true will. The Angelical Church can call itself ‘Resurrected’ as much as it wants. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s mired in its prideful, hard-hearted ways. How can they do that to people, promising to uphold the Angel’s Covenant, when they know that they can’t? That’s not kind. That’s not what the Angel wants.” The boy reached out welcomingly with his arms. “The Angel wants us to know Him personally. He’s there for us, He wants to help us, He wants to give us Strength and Light. But we have to take the first step. We have to let Him in.” He pointed at one of the windows. “Those people, out there? They don’t know. They’re trying to lead us astray, even if they don’t mean to. That’s why I was so lost for so long. Not only had I grown up among people of darkness, but, because I lived in Elpeck, I was surrounded by corruptions of the Voices. That was the only reason why I thought I could live without the Angel’s saving grace; I just didn’t know any better.”

I needed to get him to stop, but I was afraid of what would happen if I interrupted him. At this stage in the conversion process, Lopé's psyche would still have been highly unstable, like a cornered animal—only one that didn’t know it was cornered. I didn’t want to risk triggering spectral psychokinetic armageddon because he couldn’t handle being interrupted.

Lopé pressed his hands to his chest. The boy displayed for all to see the power of the divine grace that now filled him. He shook his arms and rattled his fists.

“But there was never any reason to be afraid,” Lopé sermoned. “Even if I couldn’t know God, God knew me. The Beast cleared the road ahead of, He kept the false prophets at bay. The Moonlight Queen ensured the Truth would always endure. She has a plan for every single one of us. She inscribed it on the Tablets of Destiny. And the Angel…” Lopé wept, eyes a-twinkle, “the Angel graced Father Donovan with the opportunity to open my eyes to true Love—the Angel’s love. He helped me understand my purpose. All the confusion, all the uncertainty, all the worries that nothing mattered. The Angel swept it all away.”

Although I couldn’t see the boy’s face, I could hear him sniffling, overcome with emotion.

Please, finish!

I couldn’t wait much longer. I had to choose. Either I had to wait, swallowing the risk of Frank turning one (or all?) of my patients into weapons of mass destruction, or I had to put my foot down and make the boy stop, at the risk of stoking the enmity of a child prodigy.

“It was so… so strange,” Lopé said, raising his hand up to the light streaming down from the old green-painted metal fixtures descending from the ceiling. “I was transformed,” he said. “I saw the darkness that gripped the world, darkness I hadn’t seen before. The darkness… it had seeped into me.” His speech quickened. “It was inside me, and I couldn’t get it out! There was nothing I could do! It scared me to death! And who wouldn’t be? I saw myself for who I was. I needed to be rescued!” Taking a deep breath, Lopé raised both his hands up to the light. “But that’s where the good news is. No matter how awful the darkness in me might be, no matter how lost and stupid I was, the Angel’s Light was brighter than it all. He helped me find my true family. No more arguments, no more worries. No more grief and guilt. No more doubting if I’m doing the right thing.” He exhaled sharply.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Fudge.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“No more lies,” Lopé said. “Through Father Donovan, the Angel brought true joy to my life. The kind that doesn’t fade. He—”

“—That’s quite enough, young man!” I said, loudly—putting on my best paternal voice.

Maybe it was just me, but he seemed to turn around to face me awfully slowly. Had I been too harsh?

Oh no. Oh no.

He locked eyes with me.

“Oh, Dr. Howle!” Lopé positively beamed at me. He wiped his tears on the sleeve of his gown. “How lovely to see you, sir!”

Good grief…

— — —

I didn’t bother giving Lopé the talk about why it wasn’t appropriate to try to evangelize the other patients. I just told him it would be more appropriate to share his beliefs with the other patients one-on-one. I didn’t know if it was the best thing to tell him, but it was enough to get him to sit quietly on his bed while I got to business.

Step One: get everyone calm.

I looked around.

Easier said than done. On the one hand, the despondent girl on the floor was desperately in need of kindness; on the other, there was Werumed-san. He—it?—was a complete unknown.

I walked up to a console in the wall and brought up the patient roster. The young woman was Bethany Hosha. Of the six faces on the roster, there was only one I didn’t recognize: a middle-aged man with dark hair, and an air of good-humored neurosis. Hefty spectacles perched atop his pointed, birdy nose.

I tapped the profile picture.

Name: Charles Johnathan Twist.

Below, The entry labeled Case Information was blank.

Fudge.

I walked up to his bedside. I was about three steps away from the mascot when he turned his head in my direction. The movement made me shudder. It was more of a twitch than a proper motion. I took a step back. My loafers’ soles squeaked against the floor, making me flinch. Werumed-san regarded me for all of five seconds before turning to face forward once more. Without any facial expressions or body language to read, there was not telling what was going on inside that head of his. Indifference? Hostility? Malaise? Apprehension? Ghost-hauntings?

Kurt spoke up: “Doc,” he looked up from his reclining position, “if I were you I’d… I’d keep my distance from him.”

You didn’t need to tell me twice.

I whisked around the front of the mascot’s bed and moved over to Kurt’s.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Please, tell me quickly.”

Kurt’s eyes widened in apprehension. The blankets on his back bulged oddly as his lengthened neck flexed below. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

My fists and jaw clenched. “Please, just tell me. Quickly.”

Nodding, Kurt stared at the doors. “I swear, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw him walk in through those doors. He moves slowly, more like a machine than a man.” Kurt turned back to me. “The nurse who escorted him here was paler than death.” He gulped. “All she said was: ‘don’t be noisy, and don’t try to take off his costume.’ She was practically begging us. She never came back after that. A different nurse brought the girl in.”

Perfect. Just perfect.

More mystery. Exactly what the doctor didn’t order.

With a shake of my head, I strafed around the mascot’s bed and continued over to the distraught young woman.

Bethany.

Several feet away from her, I stopped, closed my eyes, and took deep breaths, steadying myself by pushing the thought of the pancake-faced enigma as far away as I could.

You can do this, I told myself.

I sat down cross-legged on the floor beside Bethany. Her rich, hazel eyes flashed up at me as I drew close, only to dart back into the safety of her arms an instant later.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I said, at last. “I’m Dr. Genneth Howle, and I’m to help however I can, if you’ll let me.”

Slowly, she looked up at me. Her braids barely moved. As we locked eyes, the way she looked at me, you would have thought I was the crazy one.

“What’s…” she shook her head, “what’s there to talk about?”

“The woman at the other end of the room—”

“—The witch?”

I shook my head, smiling as gently as I could. “No, the other one.”

Bethany shivered with breath.

“I’ve known her for decades,” I said. “She actually came to me before the pandemic had been officially declared. Even now, she’s still my patient. Her name is Merritt Elbock, and she’s… a dear friend.”

Bethany stared at me wordlessly.

“I can tell you’re scared,” I continued, “and though I can’t promise you that I’ll be able to get rid of your fear, I can promise that you won’t be alone. You’re not the only one who’s terrified by all of this. So is Merritt.” Sighing, I frowned. “Heck, I’m scared, too.”

To my relief, that did the trick. The ice broke. Tears flowed from her eyes.

“When the nurses brought me here,” she said, “when I saw … Merritt…” she shuddered, “I lost it.”

The way she whispered the last two words made it clear there was more to the story.

“So… what happened?” I asked.

Bethany looked over my shoulder, toward the vestibule. “I sent the clothes stand flying. I don’t know how, it just…” she hunched over, rummaging her fingers through her braids, “I want to wake up. I want to wake up. This can’t be real.”

I could feel the scant resolve I’d managed to muster slipping through my fingers. I didn’t need to look at Kurt a second time to know that he desperately wanted something—anything—to cling to and make the world feel a little more sane and a little less unpredictable. And yet, I had just as strong of a hunch that the news of what was happening to them—and the news of what I feared might happen to them—was most likely going to be devastating, especially to Bethany. And if that devastation translated into psychokinetic destruction…

—But there was no need to finish the thought. I’d already seen first hand the damage these powers could cause.

“You probably don’t even believe me,” Bethany said.

I shook my head. “No, I believe you. I’ve seen it first-hand. Unfortunately, Bethany, you’re not crazy. I should know; I’m a licensed psychiatrist.”

I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t comply.

“What’s a shrink doing here?” she asked, staring at me quizzically.

I sighed. “It’s a long story. The simplest answer is that, out of everyone we’ve got on staff, I’m the one that most understands what’s happening to all you.”

As Bethany processed my words, the light of hope flashed in her hazel eyes. That made my next words all the more important and unpleasant. I already knew the question that hung at the tip of her tongue. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to fix this—at least, not yet. But, right now, I’m going to make a promise to you. I made the same promise to Merritt.”

Standing up, I looked over my patients. I leaned against the bedside; my feet and lower legs had gone numb, and I needed the antique metal frame’s help to steady myself.

“All of you: I promise I’m going to try my best to figure out what’s happening, and to find a way to stop it, if it can be stopped.”

Bethany raised her head. “What do you know?”