Finally, Babka announced that she was satisfied. The picture was as accurate as she could make it. The old woman was obviously exhausted.
Harold held up the picture for Brendan to see. He studied the picture closely. The drawing depicted a man with craggy features. His eyes were deep set under heavy brows. The mouth was a chiselled line, and the jaw was heavy and straight.
“Does he look familiar?” Dmitri asked urgently. “Think hard.”
“There’s something,” Brendan breathed. The face did look familiar somehow. It was right at the tip of his brain, so close as to be annoying. “There’s something…” Suddenly, he had an idea. “Hey, Harold. Could you draw a hat on the guy?”
“What kind of hat?”
“One of those flat ones that old guys wear, like a squashed pancake sort of, with a brim on the front. You know what I mean?”
Harold nodded. “I think so.” He sketched a few lines on the drawing, superimposing a flat herringbone cap on the man’s head.
Brendan’s eyes lit up. He turned to Dmitri. “When we first asked her about the guy, what did she say? He’d fallen?”
“She saw him falling and hitting his head.”
He’d seen someone fall and hit his head. Just the day before yesterday, the old man had been hit by the bike courier. “It’s Finbar!” he said softly.
The old woman squeezed his hand and beamed. “Tak! Tak! Finbar! To on!”
“Yes! Yes! Finbar! That’s it!” Dmitri said excitedly.
“Couldn’t she have just told me his name in the first place?” Brendan said, exasperated.
The woman spoke and Dmitri translated. “She says she didn’t have it until you spoke it. Now she knows that it’s right.”
Harold interjected. “You sound like you know the guy. Do you know where he is?”
Brendan nodded, his heart sinking. “The last time I saw him, he was on his way to Western General Hospital.”
FINBAR
“Listen, why don’t you guys just go home?”
They were approaching the front of the hospital. The sun was higher now, but it gave no heat. Dmitri had thought far enough ahead to tell Harold to bring an extra jacket for Brendan. “I don’t want to drag anybody else into this. It’s too dangerous.”
“You still haven’t told me anything,” Harold complained. “Why do you need to find this guy? Who’s after you? Why don’t you just go to the cops or call your mum and dad?”
“I can’t call anyone,” Brendan said. “It’s complicated.”
“A hand,” Brendan sighed. “Not the hand.” Brendan looked at the faces of Harold and Dmitri. He had to be honest. He was relieved that he wasn’t alone. “Thanks for the coat, Harold.”
“No problem,” Harold said. “Just don’t wreck it.”
Brendan almost laughed. Wrecking Harold’s coat seemed like the least of his worries right now.
“C’mon, dude,” Harold pleaded. “You gotta tell me what’s goin’ on. Seriously! I won’t tell anybody. I promise.”
Brendan sighed. “It’s a long story and we haven’t got the time. I want you to know that this will be dangerous and possibly quite mind freakingly weird. If you really want to be part of it, there’s no going back.”
Harold frowned, his round face thoughtful. He looked to Dmitri, who shrugged and smiled. “It’s pretty wicker.”
“Wick-ed,” Brendan said. “Not wicker. And yeah, I guess it is.”
Harold licked his lips and asked, “Will there be cool things to draw?”
Brendan laughed. “Yeah, that I can pretty much guarantee.”
Harold made his decision. “Okay, I’m in. What do I have to do? Will it hurt?”
Brendan shook his head. “Just look into my eyes…” Brendan focused Harold with an intense stare.
Harold shifted uncomfortably. “This is kinda weird?”
“Just look into my eyes and shut up, will ya?”
“Gee, Brendan, I didn’t know you felt that way about me…”
“Shut up, Harold.”
“Okay, okay. Geez.” Harold looked into Brendan’s eyes.
Brendan concentrated as hard as he could. He could feel Harold’s discomfort but he didn’t let it distract him. When he felt he was ready, he said, “Harold. I want you to see me as I really am.”
Harold frowned. He blinked. Then his mouth dropped open. He pointed at Brendan and stammered, “H-H-He glows!”
“I know.” Dmitri nodded enthusiastically. “Cool, isn’t it!”
Harold looked around in wonder and exclaimed, “This is so freakin’ awesome! How is this possible?”
“It’s because I’m a Faerie,” Brendan explained. “And quit yelling, will ya?”
“A Faerie? Like little flying things with wings? In the garden? Like Tinkerbell?”
“Not like Tinkerbell…”
Harold cut him off, pointing. “Holy cats! Look at that!”
He was pointing at a hotdog vendor’s cart set up on the hospital steps. A trio of Lesser Faeries was in the process of stealing a sausage, carrying the tube of meat like a rolled-up carpet between them as they flew away from the cart. The vendor tried to swat them with a pair of barbecue tongs but they dodged easily, screeching with laughter.
“Darn seagulls! Get lost!” the vendor shouted. He couldn’t see the Faeries for what they really were.
“Are they real?” Harold asked with wonder. “I mean, like, am I losing it?”
Brendan laughed. “No! They are real. There’s a whole world that I didn’t even know about until a couple of days ago. I’m a part of it, and I’ve let you see it too. I hope you don’t regret it.”
Harold was busy hauling his sketchbook out of his knapsack. “Are you kidding me? This is totally sick!” He found a piece of charcoal and started swiftly sketching the trio of sausage thieves as they shared out their stolen meal in the lower branches of a tree. “I mean. Look at them! Tiny people with wings! It’s so cool.”
“I like this one!” BLT climbed out from under the collar of Brendan’s coat where she had been sheltering. “He seems to appreciate a Lesser Faerie when he sees one.”
“You! You!” Harold pointed, his eyes wide. “You’ve got one on your shoulder.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Say hello to BLT!”
“Cheers,” BLT saluted saucily.
“Wicked!” Harold was delighted.
Shaking his head, Brendan said, “Come on.” He started toward the front doors of the hospital. “We have to find Finbar.”
Reluctantly, Harold trailed after Brendan and Dmitri, scratching out a few last details of his sketch.
One of the little Faeries noticed him sketching and shouted, “Oi! Fatty! Mind your own business!” He and his friends shook their fists and made rude farting noises. Harold was so delighted with the sight that he didn’t even take offence at being called Fatty. He kept sketching until Brendan pulled him into the revolving door.
“Where do we start?” Brendan asked as they stood in the bustling foyer of the hospital. There were people everywhere, patients shuffling around in bathrobes and slippers. Visitors sat in chairs or were lined up for coffee.
“We have to find out if he was admitted,” Dmitri said. “This is where my babka came last year when she had a fall in the bathtub. I remember there’s an information desk down this way.”
Dmitri led them through the central hall of the building until they saw a desk where a uniformed nurse wearing glasses connected by a chain around her neck sat talking on the phone. Brendan made sure that BLT was out of sight. He knew that no one could see her for what she really was, but he doubted that anybody would want to see a giant bug on his shoulder in a hospital. She reluctantly climbed into his pocket.
A sign hung over the woman’s station that read INFORMATION confirmed they were in the right place. They approached and stood in front of her, waiting for her to get off the phone. She held up a finger to let them know she was aware of their presence.