“There’s always an orderly in the hall, you know? They’d be happy to take you.”
Ethel blinked at him. The night orderly’s name was Gertrude. She was big and red-faced, and the other kids said she’d pinch you if you were bad.
“Yes, sir. I will next time.”
“That’s a good girl.” The doctor patted her on the head. The doctor glanced down the hall, and Ethel followed his gaze. They were alone.
“Tonight’s a full moon, Ethel. Did you know that?”
Ethel nodded.
“Nurse Jenson told Paula that this place is busy on the full moon.”
The doctor smiled and nodded.
“Yes, exactly. Many people believe the full moon affects people, especially people of a certain disposition.”
“Crazy people?” Ethel asked, shivering. She wasn’t crazy, but she knew the big hospital contained lots of crazy people. “Will they try to escape?” she asked.
“Oh, no. We’re very secure here. But the full moon is special for many reasons. Some of us doctors have a special meeting on the full moon. Would you like to come to the meeting? If you do, it has to be our secret. You can’t tell anyone.”
Ethel stared at the doctor’s small brown eyes. They seemed too close in his face, but still she had to look at one, and then the other, which felt silly.
“Like a party?” she asked, knowing the other kids would be terribly jealous if Ethel were chosen for a special party.
“Sort of,” the doctor said.
IT WAS WELL after lights-out when the doctor slipped quietly into Ethel’s room. He helped her into her shoes and coat, and put a finger to his lips.
Once on the grounds, Ethel walked between two doctors. Neither held her hand. She searched the dark shapes of the trees. What if a beast jumped out and grabbed her? They would never catch it in time.
She wanted to reach for one of their hands, but they were deep in conversation, as if they’d forgotten she was there. She suddenly didn’t want the attention of being the sole child at the party. She wanted to go back to her plain little room and listen to Mary snoring. Most of all, she wanted to be back at Kerry Manor, dozing beneath the lace canopy suspended above her bed. She would never defy her mother again or fight with the other kids at school.
After an endless walk, one of the doctors put a hand on her shoulder.
“Down this hill,” he said, guiding her down a steep hill into a valley of odd white trees crawling over the ground. A huge weeping willow stood in their center.
Ethel wondered what might lie hidden beneath its tentacle-like branches.
“Over here,” the doctor said, and they stopped at a wall of brush. Ethel looked up at him, wondering if he was joking, but then the second doctor reached into the brambles and she heard a loud click. A darkness opened before them, and before she could protest, the doctor had pulled her inside.
They were in a damp tunnel lit with torches. The flames cast strange shadows on the floor, and Ethel did not realize she’d stopped until the doctor pulled her roughly forward.
She shook as they walked into the darkness, more like a mouth than a hallway.
“Please,” she whispered, but neither man responded.
Forward through the damp, dank tunnel they moved. Ethel had never been so scared in her life, and suddenly feared she would pee her pants and the doctors would be angry. She bit her lip and stuffed her hand between her legs.
More light lay ahead in the tunnel, and soon they left the darkness for a vaulted stone room ablaze with torches. Wooden benches sat in little rows.
In the center of the room, Ethel gazed at a raised stone platform. Two beds stood side by side, and one of them was occupied. The man within it was thin. Her mother would call him thin as a garden stem. Ethel stared at his big, sunken eyes like black holes and his teeth with no lips she could see.
“Is he dead?” she whispered, tugging on the doctor’s coat.
He seemed finally to register her and carefully removed her hand, tucking it at her side.
“Not at all. He’s suffering, to be sure, and that is why you are here tonight, Ethel. We hope you might help him.”
“Me?” Ethel put a hand to her chest, surprised.
She noticed other men in the room, some of them talking, others gazing at her curiously. They wore dark suits, and several smoked pipes. One man sat on a wooden bench with a stack of books in his lap and a little silver instrument perched on top. Silver water rose up and down in a glass tube suspended within the little machine.
“I can’t help him,” Ethel stated. “I’m only ten, and you’re the doctor.”
She stepped away and stared at the doctor as if he might be the crazy one.
He laughed and patted her shoulder.
“Ten is the perfect age, Ethel. Did you know that numbers can be very powerful? Take today, for instance. Today is June 6th. Or if we consider the numbers, today is 6-6. And that number carries a bit of magic.”
“Magic?” Ethel asked, glancing again at the funny little instrument. She knew magic only through storybooks. “Magic isn’t real,” she added.
The doctor offered her a half-smile and stood.
“You may not always believe that,” he told her.
“A LITTLE SOMETHING TO help you sleep,” the doctor murmured.
Ethel lay on the bed, watching the ceiling through tears. The man beside her mumbled and groaned, his breath sounding like a pig rooting in the mud. She wanted to clamp her hands over her ears, but they had strapped her down.
She pulled up on the restraints and lifted her head.
“I want to go home,” she said.
“Not yet,” the doctor murmured.
“I want to go home,” she screamed, and the sound reverberated off the walls. The men turned to stare.
She didn’t care. She thrashed in the bed, trying to pull away from the needle he held near her arm.
“If I miss, I’ll have to poke you a second time. We don’t want that, do we?” he asked, fastening a steely grip on her arm.
She shook anyway, screaming and trying to kick her legs. She screamed for her mother and father, for the nice nurse in the ward, Miss Davis, she screamed until her throat grew sore and her eyes heavy. When she finally stopped, she turned and saw the skinny man staring at her.
A man spoke, one of the doctors from earlier in the evening. She tried to listen and understand what was happening.
“Francis,” the doctor said. “Is the demon here now?”
The man on the bed beside her nodded his head and laughed.
“Oh, yes, Master is here, Doctor. He is here.” The man howled and shook.
Ethel’s bladder released and soaked the bed beneath her.
The warmth spread down the backs of her legs and she felt embarrassed. Soon the doctor would notice, and he would announce it to the room. They would all laugh at her.
“Can we speak with the demon?” the doctor asked.
Ethel turned and gazed at the man beside her. He closed his eyes and his body shook. His mouth pulled back from his teeth until she could see his pale pink gums. The eye in her view rolled back into his skeletal head. The man seemed to change, grow more solid, stronger. He lifted his head from the bed and turned to gaze at the men on the benches.
“Yesss,” the man hissed, and his voice had changed. It was deeper, like a growl.
“What is your name, Demon?” the doctor asked, stepping away from the man.
“Is this for me?” the man murmured in his gravelly voice, and Ethel realized he was referring to her. He watched her with a wolfish face and glassy, feverish eyes.
She tried to shrink away, but could do no more than turn her head and stare at the brick wall.