Free A Study in Revenge by Kieran Shields Page B

contracted due to his weakened condition and recent lack of adequate food and water. Almost impossible to find one.” The doctor proceeded to tie a cord around Horace Webster’s shriveled biceps.
    “Miss Webster, would you be so kind as to hold that candle closer so I might have a better look?”
    Phebe stepped nearer to the narrow bed tucked into the corner. She took the candle from its perch on the side table and crouched down. The doctor readied another effort with the syringe, so Phebe looked away, finding her grandfather’s thin face. He’d been old as long as she could remember, but the flesh was so much reduced now that she barely recognized the man who’d been the closest thing to a father she’d ever known. As she met her grandfather’s eyes, different now, cloudy and distant, she knew that his spirit was still there, still with her. His weak gaze fell upon her like a foggy morning sky where the sun, though watery and indistinct, still makes its presence known.
    The old man’s face pinched for a moment.
    “There we go. That ought to help his pain.” Dr. Thayer replaced his material into his black leather case. “Rest now, Horace.”
    The doctor motioned for Phebe to accompany him to the door.
    “I really don’t think it will be much longer now,” Dr. Thayer said in a quiet voice. He laid a reassuring hand on her forearm with a concerned yet resigned smile that would have done the most stoic undertaker proud.
    “Thank you, Doctor. On your way out, could you see if my uncles have arrived yet? And let them know.”
    The doctor eased out of the room, and Phebe returned to the bedside to resume her vigil. She wet a cloth in the porcelain bowl on the bed-stand and dabbed her grandfather’s brow. His eyes searched her out, and a look of relief crept across his features.
    “There you are. I was worried …” His eyes fluttered, and his faint voice paused as if he were marshaling the remnants of his strength. “… that I’d lost you. But you’re back.”
    Phebe smiled at him, and her eyes welled up. “I’m right here with you, Grandfather. Don’t you worry. I’ll stay right here.”
    Her left hand moved forward to take his. He was too weak to match her grip. His eyes tried to focus on her once more, but Phebe could tell that confusion was settling over him.
    “Will you be …?” he whispered, then was silent for a moment. “When …?”
    “Yes, Grandfather, I’ll be right here with you. It will be soon now. You’ll see.” She laid her right hand against the side of his face. “Everything will be just fine. It will all be right again. Rest now.”
    A while later, when she heard stirring downstairs and footsteps coming up to this floor, Phebe rose from the bedside, where her grandfather’s body had lain silent and motionless for at least five minutes. She moved to the outer room and awaited the appearance of her two uncles.
    When they entered, she didn’t need to speak the news. Her expression and her red-rimmed eyes were clear enough. Phebe’s two uncles went to the bedroom door and looked in on the thin frame of their father. Phebe had already crossed Horace’s arms and raised the sheet over his head.
    “How long ago?” asked Euripides.
    “A few minutes,” Phebe answered.
    “Damn. Sorry, it’s just …”
    “I don’t think it would have made much difference to him, Uncle. He was somewhat muddled.”
    “Was he at peace?” Jason asked. “Toward the end, I mean.”
    “He was not in pain,” Phebe answered.
    “Should have come sooner. Still, you were here, did your duty,”Euripides said before heading back toward the doorway. “I’d better start making arrangements.”
    A shred of anger flashed through Phebe’s mind. How typical of her uncle to treat the passing of his own father as if it were some routine engagement to be faced in the grand military campaign of life. In Euripides’ eyes she’d done her duty. Horace’s final moments on earth were the equivalent of a