When they arrived back at Temple University Hospital, they found that Doctor Berman was still in theater, finishing up his treatment of an auto mechanic who had been splashed in the face with car-battery acid. They waited in the beige-painted visitors’ lounge at the end of the corridor, under framed prints of lakes and forests. Kavita closed her eyes and tilted her head back and attempted to rest, while Aarif lay back on one of the couches, keeping the folded white compress pressed to his nose. Nathan sat next to the tropical fish tank, trying to read National Geographic, but he couldn’t stop picturing the way that Torchy had blazed through the bars of his cage, flown at Ron Kasabian and set him on fire. After a while he tossed the magazine back on to the table.
Twenty minutes passed and then Braydon Harris came into the lounge, carrying a cup of coffee. His eyes were swollen and his hair was sticking up at the back like a bedraggled cockatoo. He was wearing a light green zip-up windbreaker with a pattern of brown stains down the front, and grubby gray Nike sneakers.
He sat down opposite Nathan and nodded, ‘Hi, Professor.’
Nathan said, ‘Hi there. How’s it going?’
Braydon sipped his coffee. It was still scalding hot, and he said, ‘Ouch. Shit. No wonder they call it the burns unit.’ He put down his cup and then he said, ‘Taking a break?’
‘I’m waiting for Doctor Berman,’ said Nathan. ‘How’s your daughter doing?’
‘I haven’t seen her yet. They’re changing the dressings or something like that.’
‘I don’t think you should worry about her too much. The surgeons here can practically work miracles.’
‘I hope to God. As if she hasn’t been through enough already, what with her mom and me separating. Kids always have to bear the brunt of it, don’t they?’
‘Sure. But they’re pretty resilient. Tougher than adults, sometimes.’
‘I’m not so sure about my Sukie. She’s kind of sensitive, you know. One of those real shy kids who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. And she’s always having those nightmares.’
‘Come on … nightmares are not necessarily bad. Having nightmares is how kids deal with things that frighten them, and things they don’t understand. Don’t tell me you never had nightmares, when you were young? I always thought that the robe that was hanging on the back of my bedroom door was going to jump down and strangle me. Then I used to have nightmares about getting lost in the woods, and there were wolves coming after me.’
‘Yeah, but my daughter has that same nightmare about the Spooglies, over and over, and always has.’
‘Have you ever taken her for counseling?’
Braydon shook his head. ‘Her mom – my gorgeous ex-wife – she doesn’t believe in shrinks. She thinks that Sukie has some kind of psychic gift, like my ex-mom-in-law. They’ve always been into that stuff, the two of them. Seances, Ouija boards, all that crap. She thinks that Sukie’s nightmares are some kind of message from beyond, you know, like w-o-ooo-ooo-ooh!’
He paused, and tried sipping his coffee again, but it was still too hot. ‘I talked to the psychiatrist here, Doctor Mahmood, and he said pretty much the same as you, that her nightmares were caused by stress. You know, her mother and me always yelling at each other. But I still don’t understand why she should always have nightmares about these goddamned Spooglies. She even drew me a picture of one.’
Nathan took out his iPhone and Googled Doré’s engraving of Malacoda, the leader of the Malebranche. When he had located it, he passed his iPhone over to Braydon, and said, ‘Sukie’s drawing … did it look anything at all like this?’
Braydon peered at it. ‘Jesus. That’s exactly what it looked like. Exactly. What the hell is this?’
‘It’s a gargoyle – a flying creature that was supposed to have plagued the whole of Europe in the Middle Ages. According to the myths about them, they came out at night in their hundreds, whole flocks of them, and swooped down on cattle and sheep, and carried them off. People, too, apparently. Men, women and kids.’
Braydon blinked and passed Nathan’s iPhone back. ‘I thought gargoyles were those ugly statues you see on the tops of churches.’
‘They are. But the myths suggest that they were alive, once, and it was only because they were hunted down by exorcists and turned to stone that they became extinct.’
‘Yeah, but like you say, they’re only a myth, right? Why should Sukie have nightmares about a myth?’
‘I don’t have any idea, to be frank with you. But I would be very interested to find out.’
At that moment, Doctor Berman came in, still wearing his green theater scrubs.
‘Ah … Professor Underhill. We’re ready for you now.’
‘How’s Sukie?’ asked Braydon. ‘Can I see her now?’
Doctor Berman smiled and held up his right hand with his fingers spread. ‘If you could just give us five minutes, Mr Harris?’
‘Sure. But she’s OK, isn’t she?’
‘In five minutes, I promise you, you can see for yourself.’
Doctor Berman led Nathan and Aarif and Kavita along the corridor to Susan Harris’ room.
‘Is she making any progress?’ asked Nathan.
Doctor Berman looked back over his shoulder. ‘You could say that,’ he replied, evasively.
They went into Susan Harris’ room, where a nurse was plumping up Sukie’s pillows and making her comfortable.
Nathan slowly approached her bed and said, ‘My God.’
Sukie was no longer wearing the shiny Jaloskin covering that had been protecting her burns while they healed. She was no longer wearing an oxygen mask, either. She was still connected to a saline drip, and her vital signs were still being monitored, but she was sitting up in bed with a crooked smile on her face.
Her mousy-colored hair was still burned on one side like stubble in a cornfield, and she still had no eyebrows, but the only signs that her face had been seared so severely were a pinkish patch on her forehead and a pattern of pinkish spots on her cheeks. Her lips were redder than they should have been, with two or three black crusty scabs, but Nathan could see that they were healing fast.
She wasn’t a particularly pretty little girl. In fact she was rather plain, with an overbite and a weak chin. But she had huge brown eyes that were immediately appealing, and what Nathan warmed to, most of all, was the way in which her face had regenerated so quickly, in less than a day.
‘I never saw anything like it,’ said Doctor Berman. ‘If she continues to improve at this rate, she should be ready for discharge in a day or two. Best of all, I don’t think she’ll have any visible scars on her face at all.’
He took a deep breath, and then he said, ‘When they took the Jaloskin off, and I saw Sukie’s face, I have to admit that I had tears in my eyes – and, believe me, I’ve been treating burns victims for twenty-six years, and I’m not the sentimental type.’
Nathan took hold of Sukie’s hand. ‘How are you feeling, Sukie?’
‘Much better, thank you.’
‘Does your face hurt at all?’
‘No, but it feels stretchy.’
‘Stretchy, that’s OK. Stretchy is good. Stretchy means that it’s getting better.’
‘I am hungry, though.’
‘You’re hungry? Haven’t they been feeding you in here? What would you like to eat?’
‘A Twinkie,’ said Sukie.
Nathan turned to Doctor Berman. ‘Is that OK? A Twinkie?’
‘It’s not on the usual dietary sheet for burns patients, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt. So long as it’s not deep-fried.’
Aarif opened his medical bag one-handed and Kavita took out a hypodermic with the stem cell sample. Nathan said, ‘I just have to give you two injections, Sukie. One in each side of your face. You’ll feel a little scratch, but that’s all. Once I’ve done that, you can have as many Twinkies as you like.’
He injected Sukie, once in each jaw-muscle. She said, ‘Ouch!’ with each injection, and gave him an exaggerated frown, but then she smiled again, and Nathan could tell that she was already feeling better. As for himself, he felt almost like God.