Page 13 of Monsters and Mocha

She’s just holding a grudge because what she’s doing is not with Dr. Fransten.

“But?”

“But nothing. I shouldn’t even be talking about this with you; it’s very unprofessional.” She pulled off the last bit of bandage, revealing a tight, even row of stitches. She gently touched the area around it, feeling for swelling or lumps. “Any pain?”

“Not more than usual.” Merry studied the wound in fascination. “I look like one of my mother’s sewing projects. Are those going to be there forever?”

“No, but it will be a few weeks until we can take them out. In the meantime, try to limit use of this arm as much as possible.” She pulled a small jar of medicine from her coat pocket and spread a layer over the stitches before replacing the bandages.

“You have magic. Why can’t you just heal me? Didn’t you use it before?”

The very thought of reaching for magic at the moment made her head pound. “I do, but it’s a limited resource.”

His face scrunched in confusion. “What do you mean? They taught us in school that magic was energy. It’s just…there. Like the air or the dirt.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yes.” Darby tied off the end of the bandage and helped him pull his shirt back over his shoulder. “But accessing and using magic requires energy, too—kind of like the way you need to use muscles to breathe or to lift something heavy. My magic ‘muscles’ can only do so much before they need to take a break and replenish their energy.”

Merry nodded slowly. “But that also means they can get stronger, right? The more you use your muscles, the stronger they’ll get.”

“To a point, yes. Just like with muscle strength, everyone has natural limits. I might be able to heal a cut or a bruise easily, but the kind of injury that would require a body weeks to heal on its own would deplete me much faster. It’s much more efficient to use magic in an emergency to keep someone alive until their body can start the healing process on its own, and I can help more people that way.”

“I see.” He stared distractedly into the distance before giving his head a small shake. “One last question.”

She poked his side playfully. “You have a lot of questions.”

He twisted the sheet nervously in his hands. “Captain Monstrego. Did he…?” His voice wavered. “I know he was in pretty bad shape, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Darby hesitated, searching for the right words to say.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Merry’s face crumpled with grief.

“He’s…not here.”

“So he’s dead?”

What do I say? I don’t want to lie to him, but I also can’t just go around announcing to the world what actually happened.

“He’s not here,” she repeated slowly.

Dr. Fransten’s voice suddenly interrupted from behind, causing her to jump. “Shelton—my office.”

She gave Merry a sympathetic smile as she jumped up. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

Darby followed Dr. Fransten’s retreating form to the large, well-furnished office across from her own. It was impeccably neat and organized, from the straight, even rows of books arranged by height on the shelves to the perfectly balanced display of furniture.

“Your working space is a reflection of your mind,” the doctor had told her the first day of her internship. “Both must be well-maintained and in order.”

“Shut the door, please.” Dr. Fransten took a seat behind his wide, polished desk. He gestured to the consult chairs in front of him. “Sit.”

A tingling sense of worry began creeping up the sides of her neck as she sat. “Is something wrong, Doctor?”

Dr. Fransten steepled his long fingers in front of him. He looked at her for a long moment. “I noticed this morning a slight discrepancy in some of the reports from the last few days.”

She tensed. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Fransten. I’ll get to work⁠—”

He held up a hand to silence her, then pulled two pieces of paper from his desk. He slid one towards her. “This is a list of every patient that was admitted over the last three days. You’ll note a mark here that indicates that the patient is deceased. And this.” He placed the second paper beside the first. “This column is the report from the undertaker documenting the corpses that were picked up for transport, and here is the number of occupied cots here in the hospital. You’ll notice the numbers do not quite align.”

Darby felt the blood in her veins slowly turning to ice.