“You know perfectly well the nature of doctor-patient privilege, Vlad,” says Van Helsing. “But–”
“I have her power of attorney since she was declared missing,” says Mina. “Go ahead, doctor.”
Dracula looks at her sharply, then back to Van Helsing. “I would not want to compromise your professional ethics, Abraham.”
Van Helsing sighs. “It’s Ms. Murray’s discretion. In here, please.”
He gestures them into a file room and rummages through drawers. “Polycythemia vera,” he says, “a chronic condition. Simply put, the young lady produces too many erythrocytes; circulation is slowed, bruises come easily. Treatment of choice is–”
“Bleeding,” says Dracula.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
“Then it was the twin in the security footage,” says Mina, “while Lucy was being wheeled right out! We have to find–”
“They will have worked under an alias and disappeared,” says Dracula irritably, hustling her out of the car and into the hospital lobby. “I must ask your trust again when I say we gain nothing by pursuing clues. Clues exist to be obfuscated. Our pursuit must go backwards–to begin with, why was Miss Westenra hospitalized? Who was her physician?”
“I was,” says the doctor behind them, peering over his glasses. “Hello, Vlad.”
“Good evening, Abraham,” says Dracula gravely.
Thursday, November 9, 2006
The phone won’t ring and the phone won’t ring and Quillory can’t stand missing him anymore, so she swallows a fishing barb with a tiny mirror and syrup of ipecac. It comes back up hooked through his gray silhouette, which has the texture of dupioni silk.
Gagging, Quillory hauls it out hand over hand, slams it in the dryer, shoves in quarters. The tumbler kicks and roars; his shadow shrinks and shrivels. She shivers, leaning on the wall. Her pocket starts to tremble.
She wipes her mouth. “Hello?” she tries.
“It’s me,” says his choppy basement voice.
“Who?” she says, confused.
Wednesday, November 8, 2006
The way Roger finds Holly is entirely prosaic: he googles to her barebones student profile. He gives two weeks’ notice at his old job, finds a new one, moves, and doesn’t know what to do next.
Holly finds him, in the end, when their eyes meet across the coffee shop in the Borders just off campus. This is no accident either. She thought she saw him there, in Architecture, and staked the place out five nights straight.
Rose shakes hands with reservations. “How,” she asks, “do you two know each other?”
“Remember, Roger?” asks Holly.
“You saved my life,” they say.
Tuesday, November 7, 2006
Granny’s got a coring knife;
She carves a pretty core.
But kids in Macoun County know
What coring knives are for.
“Taking fruit that’s on the ground,”
They say with flashlit chins,
“Is safe–but pluck it from the tree
And Granny does you in!
She quarters you and peels you raw
And masticates your eyes!
She mashes into kindersauce
Whatever isn’t pies!
Abstinence is safety, friends–
Avoid the deadly cores.
We’ll stay alive if we maintain
A diet of s’mores.”
(Granny knows that all of this
Is simply superstitious.
The only things she’s ever cored
Were bright and red, delicious.)
“Brongbrong! Brongbrong!”
“The clown’s ringing,” shouts Philia, “will somebody get it?”
Nobody does. Philia has to dash into the kitchen to catch it just before the machine picks up.
“Hello?” she says.
“Knock knock!” trills Dooley.
“Banana,” Philia sighs.
“Banana!” says the clown.
Philia waits.
“Knock knock!”
“Look, I know this one,” says Philia. “You say banana, banana, banana, orange I glad you didn’t say banana. Can we skip to the–”
“Banana!”
Pierce ambles in. “Knock-knocks again?”
“Knock knock!”
“Honestly,” says Philia. “Why do we even have a clown?”
Pierce blinks. “What are you, a Luddite?”
“Banana!” says Dooley, masturbating.