Page 5 of Monsters and Mocha

DARBY

Darby opened her mouth to protest, but Fransten had already moved on. She swallowed, turning back to the captain. She had begun gathering magic the moment Fransten had beckoned her over, and she could feel the energy buzzing inside of her, begging to be used as she studied him. His face, covered in a thick layer of dirt, blood, and sweat, was slack and lolled to the side in an unconscious stupor. Up close, she could see a wide gash that ran from the corner of one dark brow all the way down to his jaw. Whatever had caused it had just narrowly missed his eye.

The fact that this man is still alive is a miracle.

She ran her hand over his hair, letting it linger as she established a link to allow the magic to travel into his body. Entering from the head was risky, as the sudden rush of magic could negatively affect his brain if she didn’t keep in under careful control, but given the state of the rest of his body, starting from the top down would offer the quickest relief. She started slowly, directing the magic in a slow trickle around his brain and down to the back of his head where his skull and spine met. Once the path was set, she pushed more through, wrapping it around his spinal cord to numb the nerves.

“You’re going to help him?”

Merry stood by her shoulder, his gaze focused on his captain.

He must not have understood what Dr. Fransten meant. How do I tell him that the man who saved his life is under a death sentence?

She pressed her lips together, focusing on her current task while searching for the correct words to say. Prior to her internship, Darby’s studies at the Academy had included how to speak about treatment with family and friends. The goal was always to appear sympathetic but remain impartial and avoid giving false hope—something much easier to talk about in a classroom than it was to put into practice when face to face with real emotions. “I’m doing what I can for the pain.”

“But you’re not going to try to save him?”

“His injuries are extensive. Even if I was able to help him heal, there’s still the quality of life to consider. I will do everything in my power to keep him comfortable.” The response would have made her instructors proud, but the words left a sour taste in her mouth.

We both know it means I’m going to let him die.

“Please.” Merry tore his gaze away from his hero and looked up at her. His eyes were full of unshed tears, wide and pleading. “You have magic. Can’t you do something?”

“I’m not Deus. Not even magic can regrow a missing arm or leg.” Darby swallowed against the hard lump that formed in the back of her throat. “And I’m already almost at my limit as it is.” She mentally brushed against all the threads of magic that extended to the patients she had seen already that morning.

“Take mine. Use whatever you’re using on me and give it to him.” Merry set his jaw. “I can handle the pain without it. You can⁠—”

A nurse interrupted him, placing a hand on his arm. “Excuse me, sir? I need you to come with me. All non-emergency cases are to be moved to the recovery rooms.”

Merry hesitated, looking once more at his captain as the nurse gently pulled him away. “He saved all of us. You have to help him.”

Darby blinked away her own tears as she took a deep, steadying breath and rolled her shoulders back. She pushed a little more magic through the link before setting it in place. It might have been her imagination, but the captain seemed to be breathing just a little easier. She touched his hair again, whispering softly to no one in particular. “I’m sorry I can’t save you. I wish I could.”

She jumped back and nearly yelped with surprise when his eyelids fluttered open at her words. She looked down into pools of molten chocolate, darker even than the mochas that Henry loved to make. They were bright and intense, swirling with resolve and the unusual clarity that often preceded death. The captain opened and closed his mouth several times, and when he finally spoke, the words sounded like they had been forced through a pile of loose gravel. “The boys?”

“Boys?” Darby’s mind jumped to Merry’s words as she quickly put the pieces together.

“He jumped on it. Covered it with his own body and told us to run.”

“I don’t know about all of them,” she answered honestly. “But I just treated Merlin Wyss, and he’s going to be just fine.”

The captain let out a heavy exhale, which turned into a ragged cough. Fresh blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“I think the thanks goes to you.” Darby used the corner of the sheet to wipe away the blood. “You’re the only reason he was alive at all for me to treat. I’m just sorry I can’t do more for you.”

His eyelids fluttered closed, exhaustion evident in the lines of his face and his words as he started to fade. “He’s alive. It’s enough for me.”

His words sat in the back of Darby’s mind, rubbing against her consciousness like an ill-fitting shoe. She checked on him periodically throughout the rest of the day as she attended to the rest of their patients, though the continued presence of the magical link was enough to tell her he still lived. His spirit was obviously as tenacious as it was brave and selfless, and the longer he continued to defy expectations, the more she couldn’t get his words out of her head.

He sacrificed himself for his men, and this is his reward?

She hazarded a quick glance over at the captain’s still form, reassuring herself that he still breathed as she sanitized a tray of surgical tools for Fransten. With the chaos of the morning now somewhat settled, the doctor had demoted her once more to prepping and fetching. She tried not to let it rankle, but it was a disappointing blow.

I would have thought my performance today showed that I am capable of doing more than preparing instruments. What more will it take to prove myself? For heaven’s sake, they let Lacey stitch someone up on her own, and her focus is ocular medicine.

As if conjured by her internal dialogue, a light, falsely saccharine voice crooned, “Shouldn’t you be putting those man arms of yours to good use and rotating a patient or something?”

Well, that’s just spilling iodine on an open wound.