“But more than that, you have my apologies. I can keep treating it so it doesn’t pain you, but your flying days are over unless you have the surgery, even then the nerve damage may be too severe.”
“I understand,” she said before biting her thin bottom lip. “How is he?”
The doctor stood, exiting the cramped office. I followed the two of them down the hall and up to the fifth floor. They eventually stepped into a long room with a window opposite of the door. The never-ending breeze fluttered in, stirring the sheer curtains and the green ferns on each side. More plants filled the terrace as well as a couple of stools. Four beds lined either side, and monitors, flashing with blue lights and unreadable symbols, hung above them.
A mountain of a man lay in the bed nearest to the window. The drakcol had dove-gray scales accented by shoots of emerald green and gold. His reddish-brown hair was shaved on one side, revealing a massive scar that ran from near his temple all the way to the back of his head. The skin around it was mottled with the same green and gold around his scales.
He was handsome with his long face, thinner top lip and plump bottom one, and wide forehead, but something was wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was off. It was like he was empty.
Tinlorray stopped at his bedside and grabbed the lifeless man’s hand. “Doctor?”
“Yolkeltod has no brain activity. He’s gone, Tinlorray. No matter what I do, I cannot bring him back.”
Her chin trembled, and she smoothed the deep blue blanket over him. “My little brother will be fine. He has to be. He’s a warrior soul, a fighter.”
“There is nothing to be done. We are merely keeping his body alive.”
“No,” she snarled.
The doctor didn’t act bothered, standing beside her, not speaking, as tears rolled down her cheeks.
My jaw worked side to side. “I was wrong. It won’t be okay. Nothing will be fine.”
A man came up behind Tinlorray, his long brown hair hanging in a sheet down his wide back. I started when he looked in my direction. I was seeing double. The man in front of me was the same as the one in the bed. His blue eyes stayed on me and his nose crinkled.
“Who, or better yet, what are you?”
He was dead or rather a spirit like me. Yolkeltod wasn’t the first ghost I’d met before. They were few and far between, shockingly. Most people didn’t hang around long.
“I’m Caleb Smith. Human.”
Yolkeltod jerked. “You can see me?”
“Yep. I’m dead, and so are you, I guess. Sort of. I mean, maybe you’re not. I’m not sure. I’m not an expert. But you're here and there, so… yeah. Dead.”
He chuckled. “Like I hadn’t figured that out.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
He lifted his palms, which I was pretty sure was the equivalent of shrugging. “It’s not your fault.”
Tinlorray sniffled and drew my attention. I stepped back; whereas, Yolkeltod crowded her, trying to soothe her. She didn’t sense his presence and kept straightening the blanket over Yolkeltod’s body.
Dr. Maklownil slipped out, leaving Tinlorray to her grief.
I watched, feeling voyeuristic. The longer she cried and the more Yolkeltod tried to comfort her, the more my emotions swelled. I wanted to go home. It had been years since I’d seen my family. However, even if I had been there, it wouldn’t have changed anything. Their grief had long since subsided; I was a distant memory now.
Zoltilvoxfyn. He heard me. Suddenly, I needed to see him. Talk to him. Have him talk back. A real conversation, not myempty babbling. Maybe I shouldn’t have run off. I mean, moving on wasn’t the worst idea. Ihadthought about doing it when I headed to Earth.
It might be time to consider the idea once more.
When I started to back out of the room, Yolkeltod called out, “Wait.”
“What?”
“Can we talk? Please. You’re the first spirit I’ve seen.”
I nodded, which made his forehead crease. Nodding didn’t mean the same thing in Drakcon culture. I figured it out pretty quickly when Seth had kept doing it and confused the hell out of everyone.
