Volunteer (Part 7b: Influence)

I return to my seat, still floating on a happy cloud, metaphorically speaking.  I'm not really worried about Julia's absence...I assume she's just had the worst timing ever for needing the ladies' room.  I feel a little bad for her, having to miss part of my turn on stage, but mostly I'm just feeling terribly content.

The honeymooners whisper a couple nebulous compliments to me; they clearly aren't sure if I was "in on it" or not, which makes me smile.  I just respond that it was an amazing experience and leave it at that.  But the wife also tells me that "my friend" left, and that she looked a bit unwell.

Now I worry.  But I keep my seat...I know that if I was in the powder room with some sort of unsettling digestive urgency, I'd be absolutely mortified if anyone walked in.  So I wait, but it's hard to concentrate on the next act, a woman doing otherwise captivating tricks with silks and flowers.

When she's finished, the curtains open and all the performers step forward to take a shared bow.  Most of the audience stands as they applaud, and I take advantage of this to excuse my way down the row and head to the back of the theater.  Even as I hurry up the aisle, a confusing conflict of politeness forces me to keep turning back occasionally to contribute spurts of applause.  For a moment, I think the magician that performed with me is looking straight at me.  I give him an awkward, apologetic smile, but continue out.

I spot the sign for the ladies' room and head straight in.  It's quiet, and there seems to be no one there, but as I move further in, I can see a familiar shoe sticking out a bit past one of the stall doors.  I crouch down and see Julia crumpled on the floor, partly on her side, one arm wedged through the pipes behind the toilet.  Her head is flopped to one side, her eyes closed, a messy smear of blood around her lips.

"Oh, God!  Julia!  Julia?"  She doesn't respond.  I push on the door a few times, but it's securely latched.  I really know better than to move an unconscious person, but I'm panicking now, not thinking straight.  I reach under the door and grab her ankles to pull her out, watching hopefully for signs of life, but not seeing any.  "Oh Jules, please be okay, please..."  I rest my ear against her chest and let out my held breath as I hear a steady heartbeat, and the soft sound of her breathing.  "Thank God, thank God..."

"Julie?  Julia?  Wake up..." I urge her, patting her cheeks gently, but there's still no response.  I dig in my bag for my phone and hurriedly dial 911.  I can hear the sounds of loud conversation outside the bathroom, and a pair of women enter, stopping with surprised exclamations.  They ask what's wrong with her, but I ignore them, I'm already talking to the 911 dispatcher.

What is wrong with her?  Did someone beat her up...in a locked bathroom stall?  This doesn't make much sense.  I wonder if it might have been a demon.  Even though this situation doesn't really match what Julia had described about them, the idea still fills me with dread.

By the time the dispatcher says they're sending an ambulance, a staff member from the theater comes in, and I tell her everything except my irrational demon theory.  She says I can stay here, she'll lead the paramedics in when they arrive, so I kneel down next to Julia and hold her hand, cradling it gently to avoid disturbing the bloody area around her knuckles.  The woman leaves, ushering out the two bystanders as well.

After an eternal eight minutes or so, a pair of paramedics come in and begin examining Julia while peppering me with questions.  Whatever they find, they decide she needs to be taken to the ER and lift her up with a sort of sectioned, portable stretcher to maneuver her around the corners of the bathroom.  I pick up Julia's bag and follow them closely.

When we exit, I see that the staff have put up a closed sign, and the woman who came in initially has been standing guard.  I give her a grateful look and she nods, but I have to hurry to keep up with the paramedics.  They don't argue when I get into the back of the ambulance too...maybe it helps that I'm crying a little.

The hospital is a different story at first.  They won't let me stay by her stretcher in the ER, and force me to retreat to the waiting room and fill out forms.  I don't know most of what they want, but I fill in what I can, then stand there, fidgeting, frequently rising onto my toes to try to catch sight of Julia.

After a while, a couple of doctors show up and apologize.  They take me to a nicer room a couple of floors up...it seems like a normal hospital room, but there are just a few chairs and a couple small tables, no beds.  They ask me various questions about Julia, is she on medications, does she do drugs, does she work with chemicals.  I try to answer them as best I can, but I don't know much, and once again I feel horrible for not knowing nearly enough about my best friend.  They even eventually ask about "our relationship", and I decide to say she's my girlfriend, hoping that's enough to let me stay with her.  The woman doctor makes a face, maybe she doesn't approve of same-sex relationships?  She doesn't comment on it, but they continue with the questions.  Has her behavior changed recently?  Does she use profanity often?  Has she ever shown violent tendencies?

These questions aren't doing a lot for my mood...I assume they think she might have some psychological problem or a brain tumor or something.  Eventually they relent, and tell me they need to do some tests, but they think that she'll probably be all right.  They offer to let me wait there before I can even ask, and I'm pathetically grateful.

After a while left alone with no word, though, my gratitude gives way to worry again.  I'm using my phone, trying to keep my mind occupied with random browsing or Candy Crush.  But I keep swiping down to show the clock.

10:45...10:47...10:48...

I wonder if magic can help her, but even if it could I'm not sure how I could make use of it, considering I don't know what's wrong.  Plus, the only other mystic whose number I know is Jacques, and I've never actually talked to him.  Still, I'm seriously considering calling him and offering whatever he wants for a way to help Julia, but before I can work up the nerve, the male doctor comes back in.

I look up at him expectantly.  He looks grim, almost angry, but he hesitates, then shakes his head, his expression relaxing.

"No news I can give you yet," he says.  He then deliberately moves to the opposite side of the room and stands facing the window, leafing through a chart on a clipboard and muttering to himself.  It's fortunate he turns away so quickly, because I stiffen in shock at the tell-tale shimmer that drifts from his mouth with his words.

He lied.  And I saw it, which means he's a Sorcerer too.

I make no move to try to grab the twisted air.  Julia had said what we were doing at the theater wasn't technically against any rules, but that we still shouldn't flaunt it, because some people might disagree...was that what this was?  Had someone caught her, attacked her, and this guy was just trying to help?  Or was he one of the ones who was upset?  I frantically cast back to the questions I'd answered, trying to remember if I'd said anything revealing, or false.  Aside from the girlfriend remark, I can't think of any...though that does put the woman's reaction in a new light.

This isn't really a relief, though.  I don't know if Julia is in danger, if I am in danger, and anything I do to try to figure that out might only make it worse, or even cause a problem where there hadn't been one.  I can't just sit here wondering, though.

I start to ask the "doctor" a carefully vague question, but I'm stopped by two things.  First, I become aware that I can't tell what language the doctor is muttering in, but it's definitely not English.  Second, something touches my foot.

Now, I'm not normally a squeamish person.  But I'd already had a very trying couple of hours and furthermore, had just become a lot more tense on top of that.  So in context, it's entirely reasonable that upon feeling tiny claws touch my foot just above one of the silver straps of my shoe, I scream like a kindergartner with a frog down her dress.  There's a faint squeak as I jerk my feet off the floor, but I feel the claws quickly travel up my shin as whatever-it-is uses my nylons like a climbing wall.

The man spins around in shock, looking frantically around for an explanation for my reaction.  The claws have reached my thigh now.  However, rather than thrash my legs about wildly, or lifting my dress and batting at my legs with my hand, instead I lower my feet back to the floor and stand up.  I'm abruptly unconcerned by the whole thing, though I have no idea why.  Another faint squeak.

"Sorry...I...need to use the restroom," I say, which is suddenly true.  The doctor stares at me for a moment in bafflement lightly spiced with suspicion, but just waves at the interior door of the room and says nothing.  He's in the middle of an incantation...he can pause, but he can't say anything else.  I bend down to pick up my bag, and feel an impulse to pick up Julia's as well.  I hold the top edges of both in such a way that Julia's bag is mostly hidden by mine, and walk calmly into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me.

I set the bags on the sink, then gather the skirt of my dress up until I have a clear view of the small white mouse clinging tenaciously to my leg.

"Um...why am I no longer freaking out about this?" I whisper, half to myself, half - I suppose - to the mouse.  It squeaks, which does not help me much, as I don't speak Mouse as far as I know.  But I reach down and let it climb onto my hand, then lower it to the floor.  There's an eye-wrenching twist like watching someone do non-euclidean origami and suddenly Julia is standing in front of me, wearing a hospital gown and an apologetic expression.

"Sorry," she whispers, with a harried expression.  "We've run into...a few snags."  Somehow I don't feel surprised at all to see the mouse turn into my friend, just relieved.

"You don't say..." I whisper, and glance with a wry smile at my left leg.  The nylons had not fared well under Julia's tenacious ascent.  I let the dress drop.  "What happened to you?  Are you okay?"

"I'll explain later, but I'm mostly all right.  Except that they know about the sharing, but also the...Binding," she says, looking down for some reason.

"Who is they?  I just realized the doctor in there is a Sorcerer."

"Council people, probably.  I don't know them personally, but I recognize the type."

"I know Binding is normally bad, but can't we just explain that this was a special circumstance?  That you only did it for my own good?"  She busies herself digging in her bag for a moment, again avoiding my eyes.

"I...don't think they'd take our word for it..." Julia whispers, so softly I have trouble making it out.  She finds what she was looking for, a sealed envelope with "Stanzie" written on it, and holds it to her forehead like she's trying to read it with psychic powers or something.  After a moment, she hands it to me.  "Put this in your bag and forget about it for the moment," she suggests.

I realize my hand is in my bag, but I'm not sure why...this whole situation is making me scatter-brained.  Maybe my blood sugar is just low...the original plan had been to have dinner after the show, but I haven't eaten anything since lunch.

"So, what do we do?  He's casting a spell out there, but I don't know what," I whisper.  Julia shakes her head, looking unconcerned.

"I assume he's doing something that somehow keeps us from Vanishing, but he's already done that once, and I'm pretty sure it covers this bathroom as well, or they wouldn't have left you alone in here."  That doesn't sound very promising.

"What will happen if they catch us?" I ask.  Julia looks at me with a grim expression.  But after a moment her face becomes briefly thoughtful, then sad.

"I'm not sure.  Almost all of the trouble is really for me.  It...might be better for you if...if you just come clean with them, and let me run."  At the end, it sounds like she's forcing the words out, unwillingly.

"No way, Julie.  Where you go, I go."  She looks so grateful for a moment, but then her expression turns sour again.

"No...you have to..." she shakes her head, and stops, then takes a couple of deep breaths.  "Augusta Constance Klein, by your True Name and mine, I forswear any hold on your will, now and forevermore."  I reel backwards, clutching at the assist rails next to the toilet to steady myself.  It feels like I've been punched in the stomach and kicked in the head at the same time.

Julia just stands there watching me, her expression guarded, as I try to process what just happened.  I can't understand why she did that, it doesn't make any sense.  It's not like the Binding was actually doing anything, it was just...

My mental objection is cut off as my un-clouded memories of the past few days begin to assert themselves.  I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I review more and more of what I'd done and said in her presence, and it's becoming obvious that the Binding was doing quite a lot.  So much so that even after she'd released me, even as humiliated, as violated as I feel, I seem to still have feelings for her.

I step forward and slap her as hard as I possibly can.  The woman staggers sideways under the force of the blow, leaning half over the bowl of the sink to catch her balance.  She straightens slowly, her face not angry but sad, actual tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.  When she opens her mouth to say something, I anticipate some self-serving explanation for what she's done to me, and the thought makes me furious.  I slap her again before she even gets a word out, then yank at the door savagely, but it's still locked.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and my blood nearly boils at how inadequate the words are, but I don't even want to hit her again, I can't stand to look at her.  My shaking hands manage to unlock the door and I storm through it.

"She's in there," I spit, pointing behind me.  The "doctor" stops muttering, staring over my shoulder in shock, presumably at Julia.  He freezes for a second, clearly trying to decide if he dares abandon his incantation to do something else, but the decision is made for him; I hear the door close and the clack of the lock being reengaged.  He resumes his incantation now, not bothering to be quiet and speaking as quickly as he can without slurring.  I still can't place the language, it might be Swedish, or something related.

The female doctor bursts into the room, peering intently in twelve different directions.

"I reached a Seer, she's here, Grant!"  He nods hurriedly, still chanting, and points at the bathroom door.  The woman runs over and tries to open the door, but it won't budge.  The man's incantation reaches a crescendo and he finally speaks English again.

"The Interdiction here is solid, and so was the original.  She's not going anywhere," he says confidently.

"She slipped out of the other room, didn't she?"  I can hear the sound of the toilet being flushed, and the noise is so incompatible with the tension it jars me out of my fury for a moment.

She couldn't possibly have had to go that badly, could she? I think, incredulously.

The female doctor puts both of her palms flat against the door and goes still for a moment, then slowly steps forward, passing through the solid surface with apparently only mild resistance.  After half a minute, the lock clicks and the door opens, revealing the woman, who looks beyond irritated. Behind her, aside from my bag, the bathroom is empty.

"She's gone.  Again.  Grant, throw up a soundproofing, if you can manage that.  I'm going to get answers from this one, I don't care what I have to do to her to get through the Binding," growls the woman, advancing towards me with clear malice.  The threat, while nebulous, is nevertheless so vehement that I begin backing up involuntarily.

"Nora!  Rule three, right now," Grant barks, looking alarmed.  The woman glares back at him, but stops moving towards me and closes her eyes, taking a few deep breaths.  When she opens her eyes, she looks calmer, but if anything, more angry.

"Good call," she says quietly.  To me, she says, "Miss Doolittle...I need to ask you questions about your...friend.  It is for both your good and hers, so please answer as directly as you can, even if I seem to ask th-"

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," I interrupt, firmly.  "She took the Binding off."  The woman swipes a hand in front of her face immediately, but grasps nothing.  The two mystics wearing scrubs glance at each other, then back at me.  

"She did what?" asks Grant.

"She said, well, she used my true name...then, 'by your True Name, and mine, I forswear any hold on your will, now and forevermore'," I say slowly, making sure I use her exact words.  The confused looks on the pair deepen almost comically.

"She's...could she be fighting it?" asks Grant.  The woman frowns, but doesn't answer.

"Fighting what?  Are you people from the Council?  What exactly is going on?"  Grant looks at his partner, but when she shows no sign of answering, he steps forward.

"We were contracted by the Council earlier this evening, to investigate a possible, well, proven now, abuse of magic.  But it's a little complicated, because under examination here, we found clear signs of demonic influence."

"On both of you," the woman adds, grimly.  "And it looks like it's transmissible."