Free Godspeed by February Grace Page A

“You will have to be disconnected from the box before, of course, and…” He stopped, waving a hand and seeming suddenly angry, though I had no idea what I had done to make him so.
    He disappeared again. His voice boomed behind him as his hurried, uneven steps now evoked those same mournful, whining cries from the wood beneath his feet as I'd heard before. “Schuyler knows what to do.”
    I looked at Schuyler apologetically. He had apparently, in this instant, become my nurse, without ever volunteering for the duty. I was as embarrassed at the thought as I was concerned. I'd never seen him touch the wires or the machinery they attached to without being scolded by the doctor for doing so — now he was to help me care for my wounds?
    “Don't worry, little one,” Schuyler assured me. His eyes shone in the last of the daylight as it streamed in through the room's solitary window. Emotion clearly took hold of him and refused to let go. “Don't worry,” he repeated. “I know just what to do. Tomorrow.”
    “For now?” I clutched at his sleeve, desperate not to be left alone here, farther and farther from the doctor by the moment as his steps carried him away.
    “Soup,” Schuyler answered. “Soup, and then sleep. And do not you worry for a moment, my girl, if anything should go wrong in your sleeping hours between dusk and dawn, Quinn will know it. He will materialize at your side before you are even aware of the problem and make all things right again.”
    “How can that be?”
    “Because he is something more than mortal,” Schuyler replied, not meeting my eyes as he laid another blanket upon me and began stirring up the fire. “He is something much more akin to the Divine.”
    I knew it , I thought. I knew he was more than the stonework statue amidst mankind he would have us believe him to be.
    “At least,” Schuyler's voice dropped. His eyes seemed to trace a line across the floor where Quinn's feet had last fallen. “I believe him to be so.”
    “As, good sir, do I.”
    He shifted with obvious discomfort, fidgeting his fingers together one hand against another before he sighed and prepared to take his leave of me. “I will return shortly with a tray. Soup, and tea.”
    The door closed, but I barely heard the click of the lock. Comforted by the softness of the bed, the warmth of the room and the promise of his return, I swiftly completed the descent into sleep.

C HAPTER 11
    THE CREAK OF THE DOOR and plaintive squeals of floorboards announced Schuyler's arrival before he spoke a word. “Good day, Miss. Would you like to feel human again?”
    I tried to sit up to greet him but found the wires too taut and my energy too low to complete the motion.
    “I would, sir.” My tone was melancholy, and revealed to him that I doubted anything he could do for me today would accomplish that impossible task.
    “Well, at least we can clean you up. Come now.” He knelt down beside me and began to disconnect wires from terminals upon the brick-like box: the anchor which now weighted my soul to this world. “I've drawn the bath, everything is set.”
    He folded the blankets back and, seeing I was still clothed in the sheet alone, did what he could to acknowledge my modesty and honor my dignity. “I've brought this ancient dressing gown. It closes in front, so we should be able to slide it over you, just so…” He elevated his eyes to the ceiling as he tilted my unsteady form forward against his waiting shoulder, and then in one amazing slight of hand trick, swept the sheet away and the robe along my arms and up over me. I tried to help as he pulled it together at the waist, but my fingers only seemed in the way. I was grateful, though embarrassed, and hoped one day I might have the opportunity to show him how appreciative I was for his kindness, and his discretion.
    After we both seemed satisfied with the placement of the garment, he lifted me with care and caution and carried me down the hall. We entered the bath