Fairy Thief (3 page)

When the hospital staff asked Saffron’s mother to leave the room so they could talk about Saffron in private, Markis felt so bad for her. Audrey looked defeated. Her mother had just died, and now, what was up with her daughter?
Dy-ing
? Markis had never felt so awful in his entire life. He didn’t want to lose Saffron. He felt like he just couldn’t lose her, like he wouldn’t make it if…. He absently massaged the ever-present pain in his chest. He had never felt so strongly about anyone outside of his family. Then again, he never had a friend come so close to death before. Maybe that just brought out weird feelings, he reasoned. He talked to his parents about it. They tried to console him as best they could. But mostly, they were at a loss for words. What could anyone say to make anything better?

And the questions from the doctors! They didn’t stop! Over and over and over, Audrey, Markis, Derek, and Coco had to repeat their stories of what happened that night, that day, the week before….

“
Are you sure?” they were asked. “Are you quite sure that is all you remember?” Then again, “Was she exposed to cold at all? No cold at all? Perhaps you own a walk-in refrigerator or freezer? Perhaps she was exposed in some other way?”

“
No!” Saffron’s mother had finally screamed. She had had enough. The cold. The cold! What were they trying to get at? She told them, they all told them a million times, that Saffron had been in her room, then suddenly they found her on the roof – just sitting there, lifeless. No cold — end of story! It was June, for God’s sake. It was
humid!
These past few nights it had been in the 80s! Cold?!

One night, over trays of turkey, cold mashed potatoes, jellied gravy, and warm cranberry sauce, Audrey and Derek sat talking. Dr. Udele came into the room, moved magazines and playing cards from a chair, sat, and took Audrey’s hand. The feel of his warm grasp shocked her, and immediately she started to knead her throat with her other hand.

“
I’m sorry, Audrey, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was wondering if you and Derek could join me now, in my office.” His smile was warm but not confident. His eyes were bloodshot. They knew he worked hard for Saffron. They saw him here, in the halls, day and night. They had gone to his office a few times before, and his nose was always buried in some great big medical tome or glued to the computer.

Audrey and Derek stood, joined hands, and followed the little man with tufts of hair down the echoing hall. It was just approaching midnight, and the only sounds were the hushed voices of nurses and the blip-bleeps of the various machines in the Critical Care Unit.

“
I took the liberty of getting us some real coffee.” Dr. Udele motioned to the steaming cups on his desk. They were from the trendy shop down the street. “Please, have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. Again.”

Audrey stared dully at the coffee cups. Two smells she never again wanted to mingle in her nostrils — coffee and antiseptic.

Dr. Udele did not make his way around to the other side of his desk and into his plush leather chair. Instead, he pulled another chair through the thick carpeting from the corner of the room. He seated himself directly across from Audrey and Derek, so that the three of them were almost touching knee-to-knee. He reached back, grabbed the coffees off his desk, and handed them over. Audrey murmured her thanks, then went for her neck with the other hand. Derek nodded and stared at Dr. Udele’s rumpled shirt.

The doctor looked like he was going to attempt a smile, but his face faltered. He took a deep breath, put the tips of his fingers together, separated them, grabbed the seat of his chair, and shifted around a bit. He ran his fingers through his hair, and raised the bits had been lying flat. Audrey and Derek exchanged weary glances.

“
No, please, don’t worry. I just don’t know how to start this. I have never been in this situation before, as you’ll soon understand. Let me get on with it now.”

Audrey stared at him blankly. Derek’s eyes filled with unbidden tears. He used both of his bear-paw fists to push them out of his eyes.

“
To begin simply, let me make three statements. We, my colleagues and I, have come to the conclusion that Saffron is suffering from Paroxysmal Cold Hemoglobinuria.” Audrey leaned forward, ready to let the questions flood forth.

“
Please, please, let me go on, and I will try to cover most questions even before you ask.” He raised his cup to his lips and pulled long and hard on the coffee. The old-fashioned mantel clock on his desk ticked loudly. “Second, from what we know currently, it is medically impossible that Saffron is suffering from Paroxysmal Cold Hemoglobinuria. And third,” he rushed on, seeing the denial in their eyes and the welling anger, “we think the transfusion has helped in her case. Others like her have been saved by blood transfusion. Let me tell you a little about Paroxysmal Cold Hemoglobinuria. It is a very rare, swift, and potentially dangerous disorder. Personally, this is the first time I have ever seen it, for that matter, this is the first time anyone in this hospital has seen it — or anyone in this county….”

Audrey gasped.

“
That is why we have chosen to seek outside council. PCH is characterized by the premature destruction of healthy red blood cells minutes to hours after exposure to cold. It is an autoimmune, hemolytic disorder — these diseases occur when the body’s natural defenses against invading organisms destroy healthy tissue for unknown reasons.”

He saw their faces contort and struggle with this new information. “This is a rare
childhood
disease, although a few adult cases have been documented. The problem is this…PCH doesn’t just occur out of the blue.” He paused and stared at the ceiling. He searched for the most basic explanation. “PCH sets in after the onset of infection — Saffron has had absolutely no recent infections that we know of, and you claim she has no other files — so we have no idea how she could possibly be suffering from this disease. But you must know, the tests have been done, it is, without a doubt, Paroxysmal Cold Hemoglobinuria. Idiopathic PCH is extremely rare, but not unheard of.”

Audrey had been fast-bouncing her knee, but now her entire body froze.

“
Idiopathic, Audrey,” Dr. Udele took her hand away from her throat and squeezed, “it means the disease arose spontaneously from an obscure or unknown cause.” She snatched her hand back.

He raised his eyebrows high and shrugged his shoulders. How he hated this — he felt so incompetent. But so did the handful of physicians he had met with this afternoon for the final briefing on his lovely, young patient with the bad haircut. It was unanimous — she had PCH, but nobody could fathom how. He clenched his teeth and stared at Audrey and Derek, waiting for the onslaught of questions.

They said nothing.

“
The good news is, if all goes well over the next few days — if the blood transfusion is accepted — she will be cured of this disease and should have no further trouble with it.” He tugged his right ear.

A mask of doubt and suspicion covered Audrey’s fresh, bohemian looks. She watched the doctor without blinking. He was still keeping something back, she could feel it, and Dr. Udele knew she knew it. The energy from the futile hostility that ran between her and Derek almost arched over their heads.

The physician cleared his throat once again. He had lost three nights of sleep over this very strange case. He told himself he would lose three more, however, if it would help. Dr. Udele told himself to get on with it, even if Audrey did physically attack him like it looked like she would. The tic started in his eyelid again, the same eye that throbbed with the recurring migraine.

“
Saffron…is in a coma, as you know. She…. There is no physical reason for this coma. It is not related to the Paroxysmal Cold Hemoglobinuria….”

“
Which you also can’t explain!” Audrey’s voice peaked shrilly. Derek took her hand and held it tight to his chest.

“
I’m so sorry Audrey, Derek — I can’t begin to imagine your anguish, I’m sure. But you must believe me — we are doing everything we can. The very good news is that her condition is now stable, and the only thing we need is for that girl to come out of her coma. We just need her to wake up. Talk to her! I think we’re in the homestretch here! We don’t have answers as to why this occurred, but let’s all try hard to wake her up. Then we can ask
her
.”

Chapter 3

A
fter Saffron left her grandmother in the glass boat, she sailed through black space for a short while, then slid into her body. When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t on her roof, and she wasn’t alone. She was on an island, sitting on its sandy shore. A monstrous wave was coming towards her. She squealed, put her hands down, lifted her bum and crab-walked backwards just in time. The wave broke and its froth slid over her feet. Another wave followed, then another. The crash and boom was almost deafening. While the sound of the waves pummeled her ears, the sunshine seared her eyes. She stood up and brushed sugary-looking sand from her pants. Behind her, there was shade under some palms. She walked into the cool of the green and sat beside the bushy fronds.

She felt him all around her, and knew without a doubt, he was watching her. “Ny!”
What is this? Where am I?
Suddenly, her thoughts were repeated, out loud, in the air all around her — as if there were invisible speakers broadcasting whatever came to her mind…“What is this? Where am I?”

No way.

“
No way.”

Saffron jumped when, again, her thoughts reverberated down the beach. She bit her bottom lip.

Damn!

“
Damn!”

She realized she wouldn’t have any secrets here. She kicked at the sand and twisted her ankle — the pain was quick and excruciating. Her thoughts kept coming like a horrible recording she couldn’t shut off. This wasn’t a dream.

What
is
this?

“
What
is
this?”

The monotonous waves missed a beat. They had been crashing, crashing, crashing all along, when suddenly there was a vacuumed silence, then the waves were crashing again.

“
So what, Ny — it doesn’t matter. You can hear every thought that goes on in my head. You don’t
have
to eavesdrop, you know! I’ll tell you everything! Do you hear me?! I know you hear me, I know you’re near — so why don’t you just come out and face me!” Her shrill words were met only by the soothing sights and sounds of paradise. Two long-legged egrets with snowy white feathers walked in the undergrowth just behind her. She jumped when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught their puckish movement. They stilled and looked at her sideways, then lifted their twiggy legs high to continue onto the beach. Saffron rested her elbows on her knees and laid her chin on her hands. She looked at the ocean and frowned.

This ocean was not like the ocean near her house. Her ocean was boding-grey — dark, jade-green on the brightest day, as was normal for the ocean of the Northeast. She’d been to Jamaica with her family. That ocean was bathwater-warm and a hypnotic aqua blue. But if nothing else, this ocean pounding before her was convincing enough to let her know she was in an unreal place. This ocean
glowed.
The lime-green water hummed like a neon sign. The dark, sapphire sky grew darker and darker, until it melded into a vibrant, purple horizon. The sand was so bright-white, Saffron thought she’d go blind, and the palm tree above her was dressed in sparkling emerald fronds. Saffron stared with naked wonder, then frowned again.

Where am I?

“
Where am I?”

She gritted her teeth as pictures of this life and of her other lives began to scroll across the sky. There were lots of pathetic, groveling scenes — she at Ny’s feet — as if he was that irresistible. She pushed herself up off the ground, bunched her fists, then screamed at the radiant sky. “If there is any way I can kill you — I will! How dare you do this to me! How dare you trick me! Again! When the hell will you stop? Where
are
you?”

Seabirds cried, waves lapped, a crab clicked his big claw as he scuttled across a flat of damp sand.

She sat down hard, and with a huff, on the blanket that appeared in the sand. Thump! A coconut fell next to her. She picked it up and hurled it at the sea. The waves were calm now, and barely tall enough to make a curl. In the canopy of fronds and vines above her head, birds squawked and peeped. A small monkey came to sit beside her and nibbled a date as he eyed her. Saffron couldn’t help smiling at him. She closed her eyes and smelled ripened fruit warmed by the sun and the clean smell of the ocean.

How had the stupid blanket appeared? She screwed her eyes shut tighter and willed a mansion to appear. Nothing. Then, after a few more moments, she found herself suddenly sitting in a small bungalow — on the deck of the bungalow to be exact — swinging in a hammock. Her hair was long, too. Too long. She didn’t know why it didn’t occur to her before, but now that she thought about it — her hair was even longer than before! It swirled in endless crimson waves all the way down her back, and as she swung in the hammock, the ends of it slid back and forth across the floorboards.