Page 3 of Magic and Medicine

I counted the seconds it should take for security to arrive. I knew these men should be detained, but I was too freaked out to deal with this, and as time passed and no one turned up, I looked outside. Life on the other side of the glass door appeared normal as if nothing was happening. Like we hadn’t just reanimated a corpse, and I wasn’t standing between two men who looked ready to kidnap me, leaving my body to float down the Motlawa.

I’m so fucked. I thought, trying to find a solution to my predicament. It was time to be wise, not brave, and make sure I didn’t end up with the dagger in my chest, but suddenly, the tension washed away, and the green-eyed man looked at the name tag on my chest with a lazy smile.

‘So you don’t know yourself. We will fix that. I will come back for you, Sara. We should have a friendly chat about today’s events. Till then, please, no gossiping. No one will remember, and they won’t believe a word you say. You should keep quiet for your own good unless you plan on spending the rest of your life in a mental institution.’ He stroked my cheek with a finger and left the resus room, undisturbed by the passing staff.

The rest of the shift passed by in a haze of surreal normality with no reanimated corpses or luscious, annoying Forest Lords wandering around. Not a single person mentioned a patient with a knife in his chest, but I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. We had a few routine cases, cardiac arrests, and the usual drunken calamities, but I was surrounded by blank stares with each mention of the evening’s strange events. By the end of the shift, I was sure it was a side-effect of too much coffee and the usual burnout. That, or the years of fighting impending death, pretending I didn’t know the strange voices or creatures I sometimes saw meant a mental breakdown had finally happened, and I was medicated and on the bus to the asylum.

When I finally escaped the hospital in the morning, thick fog from the river obscured the quiet streets. I felt the other town on the edge of my consciousness hidden in this milky veil, and I had to remind myself the silence was due to it being Sunday, not thanks to a sudden world catastrophe. Still, such condensation was unusual for this time of year, and the Motlawa didn’t produce this much murkiness even on its worst days.

I could have taken a tram, I should have taken a tram, but I had to reconnect with the world, and like a fool, I wandered through the old town, where the city I lived and the one I sensed felt almost the same, and strolled along the riverbank. Water birds called, their haunting song drifting over the water, breaking the peace of this surreal moment, but that was precisely what I needed, giving me some normality and the opportunity to think. Now all I wished for was the morning sun to dispel this dreadful feeling I had been carrying in my chest since encountering that infuriating, fascinating arse of a man.

The patient, Adam, was handsome with his dark hair and blue eyes, in a rakishly polished way, if you liked that type of thing; but no one could compare to his compatriot, whose green irises seemed to have engraved themselves onto my soul. It was interesting how standing beside his boss made him so easily forgettable despite his unique injury. I suspected that the fascinating man had done something to me as each time I closed my eyes, I could see him looking at me with an intensity that burned like the sun while I stroked his neck, praising his vein.

‘Vein, out of all the things, a vein … oh, for fuck’s sake.’ I said, chuckling and cursing softly, lost in thought and secondary embarrassment. It had to be some kind of hypnosis. I tried to rationalise. How else could I explain my reactions and how I felt about the man who invaded my workspace, threatened me but left me feeling needy and helpless in a way that I should, but didn’t hate? Out of anger, I kicked at an uneven cobblestone, but the slippery bastard left me scrambling to keep my balance. I tried to regain my equilibrium, not wanting my day to end as badly as it started, broken mirror be damned.

A powerful arm encircled my waist, pulling me against a firm, muscular body. ‘Well, fucking you can certainly be part of our negotiations, but for now, let’s talk about our encounter.’

The familiar voice sent a shiver down my spine. My curves pressed against a body that I couldn’t help but be vividly aware of. No, no, no, not Mr. Vein man. I instantly recognised the timbre. The soft baritone caressing my senses could belong only to one man. Smoky Eyes stood behind me, rescuing the poor damsel in distress from the evil cobblestones. Much to my shame, he must have heard me, and now I leant against his chest, my thoughts racing so hard that it was a struggle to listen to his words.

How was it happening again? Usually, a strange man grabbing me would earn a black eye or ruptured balls, but I couldn’t help myself around this arrogant bastard. There goes my feminist membership card, along with a pair of wet panties, I thought as I extricated myself from his embrace.

‘Thank you and goodbye,’ I blurted. My decision to move away made him frown, and he looked at his now empty hands for a moment. The confusion in his eyes should not have been cute, so I quickly scowled to cover up my reaction when he stepped in front of me.

‘Good morning, Sara. You should be more careful on these quiet streets. You don’t want to fall through the rabbit hole and wake up in a completely different world. It would displease me greatly if I had to search for you there. Now, how do you like your coffee?’

‘My what?’ Who cares if he was displeased or not? I thought, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

His casual question left me flustered and confused. First, what was he doing here? Second, where did he expect to find an open coffee shop Sunday morning in Gdansk?

‘Your coffee? The scent of it was all over you, even in a sterile hospital setting, giving me the impression you liked it.’ He smiled, and when I still didn’t answer, his smile turned into a frown. ‘We need to talk, and you look tired. I thought coffee would help you focus. There is a nice little coffee shop around the corner, already open. Unless you prefer a more civilised drink, I can find a nice herbal tea to help with your exhaustion.’

‘Coffee is fine. I don’t like to drink chopped grass.’ I muttered. My response raised the corner of his mouth in a smouldering version of a mischievous smile.

‘Oh, my lovely Sara, but you haven’t tried mine. When I make you herbal tea, you will taste pure bliss, not chopped grass.’ His voice held delicious promise, and I wasn’t sure we were talking about tea any more. Before I could even respond, his mouth tightened slightly. ‘We will have time for that later. Let’s get you that coffee. So… shall we?’ He offered me his arm as if this were perfectly natural, and I accepted because I was an idiot fascinated by dangerous men.

We must have looked like a Victorian couple wandering along the riverside, passing the few unfortunates forced at work on a Sunday morning. I could not believe what I was doing. This man, everything about him, screamed danger, yet I let him lead me wherever he wanted, like a lamb to the slaughter.

When a sudden breeze threw dry leaves and debris in our direction, he raised his hand, sheltering my eyes in an old-fashioned gentlemanly gesture, and whatever the wind carried slid down along the invisible wall.

‘Thank you, but what do you want from me?’

‘Don’t overthink it, Sara. Today, we will just talk. If we come to an agreement, I will explain more about your situation, and maybe we will even see about any other benefits you may like.’ He said, and my hand on his arm curled into a fist. How could I let this man take control of the situation so quickly?

‘I don’t even know your name.’ My voice was pleading, and I straightened in disgust when I heard myself covering my embarrassment with a cough. ‘So what is your name?’ This time, it sounded more like old me.

He smiled and led me to a table in an open but deserted restaurant.

‘Leszek Borowy, but you can call me Leszek, so how do you like your coffee?’

‘Latte with caramel.’ My answer seemed to amuse him as the corner of his lip rose in a mischievous half-smile again before he left to place the order.

At this point, I should have been halfway across Gdansk, running away from him, but no, the feeling of safety and home kept my rear in the seat as I watched this strange, hypnotic man with a curiosity that any cat would be proud of. He found me here, so he will find me anywhere. I must know what he wants and who he is, I thought, convincing myself to stay. Besides, it was better to talk in public than be cornered in a dark alley because I was sure Leszek wanted this conversation, whether I cared or not.

When he returned from the counter, the aroma of fresh caramel goodness hit my senses, helping me settle back into the normality of coffee with a handsome stranger.

‘What do you want to talk about?’ I asked, avoiding his eyes to stop making a fool of myself again.

He chuckled quietly, amused somehow by my question, but the sound was thick, sweet molasses trailing down my spine with slow, delicious progress.

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