Chapter One
The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong. 'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep. "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming." Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light. "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?" He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division." "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes. "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month." Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?" "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls." Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible. "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?" Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you." "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know... "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..." Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?" "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him." Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved. "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others." Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever. "Tell me what I need to do." Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams." Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere." The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass. "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real. "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again." The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long. "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it." Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping. "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers." "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing. "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls." "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes. "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours." Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another. "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating." The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter. "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen." Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement. "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself." As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp. Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control." "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?" Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke. "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?" Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?" "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul." As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own. The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere." The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass. "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real. "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again." The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long. "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it." Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping. "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers." "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing. "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls." "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes. "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours." Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another. "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating." The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter. "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen." Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement. "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself." As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp. Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control." "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?" Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke. "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?" Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?" "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul." As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own. The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Three
They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown. "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery." The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt. "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?" Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?" "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world." Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly... They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps. "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look." Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles. "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered. As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams. "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?" Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls." The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David." The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away." "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft." The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work." Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons. "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!" Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought. With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector. "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..." "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears." For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp. The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David. What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air. "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing." The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then... They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival. "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you." Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne." Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins." As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.
Chapter Four
Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world. She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records. A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.' The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes. "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look." The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces." "He's attacking multiple targets at once?" "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond." Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?" "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty. "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..." "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger." She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory. "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago." She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight. "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..." A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently. "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly... She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare. "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power." The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map. "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne. "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time." "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..." "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?" "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..." "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?" Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others." As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had. The true game was about to begin.
Prolog (1)
========================
Prolog
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Croft telah mencoba mempersiapkan diri, mempelajari laporan-laporan awal epidemi dari India, Rusia, dan Jepang. Sebagai seorang yang tidak beragama, ia berdoa dalam hati ketika wabah tahun 1827 itu mati di Kaukasus sebelum mencapai Eropa. Bodohnya dia. Empat tahun kemudian, penyakit mematikan itu meluas dari hutan-hutan gelap di Timur ke Balkan yang gelap. Tahun berikutnya, penyakit itu menembus pantai berbatu Inggris. Ajaibnya, wabah itu berhasil diatasi di Sunderland, tetapi ini hanya jeda, bukan penangguhan hukuman. Tiga bulan kemudian, penyakit itu meletus di London.
Dia sudah menelepon sepuluh kali hari ini, semuanya dalam jarak satu mil satu sama lain. Dia mengerutkan keningnya, masih terganggu oleh panggilan terakhir.
Jemmy Watt pertama kali mengirimnya kemarin untuk merawat istrinya yang demam. Hari ini, istrinya sudah meninggal. Begitu juga dengan anak-anaknya, dan Jemmy gagal dengan cepat. Akan menjadi keajaiban jika Croft menemukannya masih hidup besok. Penyakit ini terlalu kuat untuk dilawan. Lebih buruk lagi, para pemuda di paroki adalah pengecut, tidak mau datang untuk mengambil mayat keluarga Jemmy. Croft telah berteriak dan mengutuk, memperingatkan mereka agar tidak meninggalkan mayat yang menyimpan penularan sampai mereka akhirnya membersihkannya, tetapi tidak sebelum mengikat kain di sekitar wajah mereka sebagai perisai terhadap racun penyakit. Semua teriakan itu membuat tenggorokan Croft kering seperti papan tempel.
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"Saya akan mencoba, Dokter," kata Margaret, menyendokkan air di antara bibir kering ibu mertuanya, sementara gadis kecil itu - hanya delapan atau sembilan tahun - memantulkan bayinya di lututnya. Wanita tua itu tampaknya mulai membaik.
Ya, ia berharap untuk melihat perbaikan di rumah Beady. Toko itu tutup, tentu saja, jadi dia mengetuk pintu dengan keras. Tidak ada jawaban. Dia memeriksa jam tangannya. Nyonya Beady tahu untuk menunggunya.
"Nyonya Beady!" Masih tidak ada suara. Khawatir sekarang, dia mengetuk-ngetuk pegangannya. Itu bergerak di bawah tangannya. Tidak terkunci. Horace mengerutkan kening. Itu tidak seperti Nyonya Beady, tapi ada sedikit bahaya invasi. Para tetangga semua tahu tentang penderitaan mereka. Croft melangkah masuk, melewati rak-rak buku catatan dan kertas yang remang-remang. Hanya dalam waktu seminggu, konter-konternya telah berdebu.
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Dia menemukan tubuh ibu mertuanya yang terbuang di kamar tidur, tetapi Nyonya Beady sudah cukup sehat untuk menutupinya dengan selembar kain. Nyonya Beady meringkuk di lantai ruang duduk, rambutnya masih basah, bibirnya pecah-pecah. Bayinya tergeletak di sampingnya. Bayi itu pasti telah meninggal setelahnya, karena bayi itu terbaring tanpa penutup di genangan kotoran, dan Croft tahu Margaret bukanlah wanita yang meninggalkan anaknya tanpa perawatan. Dia menghela nafas dan menegakkan badan, menarik-narik mantelnya. Sedangkan untuk anak yang lebih tua...
Croft melihat sekeliling. Dia tidak bisa melihatnya. "Nona Beady?" Dia tidak tahu nama gadis itu. "Nona Beady!"
Dia merasakan lebih dari sekedar mendengar hembusan nafas yang samar-samar. Dia berada di belakangnya, meringkuk dalam-dalam di kursi berlengan yang lusuh. Dia memiringkan kembali dagunya-masih hidup, kulitnya panas, matanya tidak fokus. Dia mengulurkan tangan untuk mengambil denyut nadinya, mengerutkan kening saat dia menghitung denyut yang lambat dan berdenyut-denyut, mencatat getaran di jari-jarinya. Di tangannya yang lain, yang dibopong di perutnya, dia menggenggam sebuah gayung. Baskom di sampingnya kosong. Bibirnya bergerak, dan meskipun dia gagal menghasilkan suara apapun, dia hampir bisa mendengar derak kulitnya yang terkelupas.
Afir(, diAaG bqer)usc_aspA. TiNdakP fapda sat&uKpjun di DrzuYaWngaGn itHu.
"Saya akan segera kembali," katanya dan pergi mencari dapur. Tidak ada air yang bisa didapat, tetapi di dalam teko di atas meja ada satu inci minuman dingin yang sudah menjadi lumpur di bagian bawahnya. Itu bisa digunakan.
Dia mencoba meneteskannya ke bibirnya, tetapi cairan itu bergulir sebelum dia bisa menangkapnya. Cemas sekarang, ia membasahinya dengan saputangannya. Ketika ia meletakkan kain basah itu di mulutnya, dia menghisapnya. Jari-jarinya, yang sudah sangat kurus-kolera sangat agresif-muncul untuk mencengkeram kain itu. Dia membiarkannya bekerja di atasnya, kemudian harus mencungkilnya untuk merendamnya lagi. Cengkeramannya lebih kuat dari yang ia harapkan, tetapi ia memperingatkan dirinya sendiri untuk tidak berharap. Sangat mudah, sangat mudah, untuk membayangkan pasien terlihat lebih baik. Bukankah dia pikir wanita tua itu akan berhasil melewatinya? Anak ini tampak rapuh seperti bunga dandelion.
Dia tidak bisa tinggal di sini sendirian. Dia harus dimandikan dan dipakaikan pakaian bersih. Seseorang harus membasahi saputangan untuknya dan, kemungkinan besar, mengawasi sampai dia menyerah dan meninggal.
AhS. ArdaY t_irSaiH. ZCuAkup bfagOus, davna muHngkYicnQ Qline)n xteJrZbe!rsih &dciC rhudmUagh Aituh.c FDenLgLaQnc xduDa ta(nfgaOn., CrHodfTt mgenccxe*nhgkKeram KbaNjvuF &tidu$rX 'aón&ak iltu yaang k!otopr dWan* OmezrIolbDekkS bagSiAaQn fdGepKanYnCyiaR. Anagk .igtUu_ YtPerse&nLtakf,a stapiG OapZakOah kiGtu kKagriekna rtaanganRnIya ataGu' csuarnak .yCa$ng JmeYng'gsangLguunya,Y dBia Vti,duamk bi$sÉax mernngatakanInSyZa.V DiaA wtehrlFal(uB bbiWrFuq,r tWerlaTlu OkuruLs. MD'eJngan gxerJakóan yaxnTgS defwisVieunj dwan Nca.dangXa(n YdarZi se!orraYng xaThAliy XbSeda,h dói' medaMn upyerang,S &dia JmPenBgauPpas rpkabkaLiafn rk_ostobrV ituP dMabnx $mDeYnVarmiBk Mti*rati. BzaitjaLn_gWnGyja pDahtsaih, dGani vcincitnx-Wcciynscinmnyyóa aróobYeNk dIanv jattuh kkAen NlwantaPid ydwalam pus.arHanI debu da^n plestseJr s.aatr Hsina*r matahmaZrib XmeRnQecrOobfos tmaÉsAuk ,ke dmala'mf rJuzapngTaqn. DiCa BmemejaymkaÉnH maWtCanJy,a dzanG jtKedrb.atutkk-(bVautukM. IGadis itu AbeRrGs'ua_rpa.d _MÉenNco$nNdonVgkraFnL itubvuPhnzyaT !mendekVaTtb, &iay &menJdatyaq *kediópan xmxaCt(anyVa yaangF RcxekGucnWga,u ógeitarhan bqiFbYirnSyMa_.y
Prolog (2)
"Hush. Kami akan membuat Anda tertutup. Tirai-tirai ini bisa digunakan."
Dia mengangkatnya dan membungkusnya dengan kain kokoh. Bahkan dengan pembungkusnya, dia merasa tidak lebih berat dari seekor border collie berukuran baik. Croft kokoh dan terbiasa membawa-bawa beban mati, tapi kain tambahan itu berbahaya, menjerat lengannya. Dia melingkarkannya di sekitar kakinya yang kendur dan membawanya menuruni tangga. Tidak ada yang menghentikannya di jalan keluar, tetapi ia membuat dirinya mengetuk pintu tetangga.
"Anda harus menyuruh seseorang untuk membawa mayat-mayat itu," katanya kepada wanita bermata lelah yang mengintip dengan curiga melalui lubang intip.
Wandita XiTtHua bÉer&kceWdFipV.P Cr(ofUt m^eDnahWafnY ke&i,nIgin$aqny vunLtGu&k Pmfeled(aktkZanVnyaW. WajnéitRa _bodohc óitu) Lpóausttni FtóawhVuR Beadmy.sQ .s$aakfi'tg !ta*pLiQ tidTa)k( bvergseruak' wsediki$tqpunZ *untmukk& SmceTmbanPtquO m&er!eksaU. "Dagn zyaGngq itu,?"S ta&n_yaxnQyka.
"Aku akan membawanya."
Wanita itu tidak membantah, buta atau acuh tak acuh terhadap penghinaannya. Di jalan, mata yang menemukannya dan bebannya berbelok menjauh. Pada saat ia sampai di rumah, ia terengah-engah, tidak mampu mengatur kuncinya. Ia harus mengetuk pintu dan menunggu pengurus rumah tangganya.
"Apa ini?" tanyanya. "Anda tidak boleh membawa mayat di pintu depan." Kiriman rutinnya selalu datang di tengah malam, di belakang, karena memamerkan fakta bahwa ia membeli mayat curian adalah cara yang baik untuk membuat jendelanya dihancurkan.
"Yakng ini maspimh khDidXu^p.) AnIda fmenghalYangpi Sjalan siaysa, NÉy$onYya PjhipYps."k
Wajahnya memucat. "Anda tidak boleh membawa kolera ke sini!" Tapi dia menyingkir. Croft berjalan ke atas, Ny. Phipps resah di belakangnya. "Dia sakit! Apa yang harus saya lakukan dengannya?"
"Ambilkan dia air. Tidak, teh manis. Kita akan mencobanya. Dan ambilkan sesuatu untuk dia pakai. Salah satu bajuku sudah cukup. Aku akan membutuhkan bantuanmu untuk memandikannya."
Tidak ada tanggapan. Ia menoleh ke belakang, menatap pengurus rumah tangganya dengan tatapan tegas. "Semua orang di keluarganya sudah meninggal."
NHyÉoznyxal BPDhipmp(sX amenn)ghelan nkagp)asR fdUebnCgaén jFemngkel.g "Dvain )kKaLu Lpikxifr kaau cb$isKa Xm!enye'lammattkdan,niyka.("
Horace mengangkat salah satu sisi mulutnya. Dengan gadis itu dalam pelukannya, mustahil untuk mengangkat bahu. "Mungkin tidak. Tapi aku akan mencoba." Ketika dia mencapai lantai berikutnya, dia memanggilnya. "Bukan kamar tamu biru! Itu adalah seprai terbaik!"
* * *
Tidak seperti majikannya, Nyonya Phipps sangat religius. Ketika ia datang dengan membawa spons dan baskom berisi air, ia lupa akan keinginannya untuk menjaga linen rumah tangga yang terbaik. "Tuhan di surga," gumamnya. Kulit gadis itu hampir transparan, matanya tenggelam dalam cekungan memar berwarna gelap plum. Rambutnya yang pirang gelap tumpah dalam massa yang kusut pada sarung bantal.
"bJa&ngranT gcobÉa-c.obak IberbGiócyawraó.D" !NywonyZa kPxhpipIptsm m,aju denga*nZ hspotns baNsUa_hndyJa.é d"FSriwmppan fke,kóu,atJanmuZ,) NakR.É"k
Gadis itu awalnya membaik, kemudian melemah selama berhari-hari sampai dia setipis kulit telur. Teh dan kaldu yang disendokkan ke dalam tubuhnya dengan susah payah melewatinya tanpa berubah warna. Croft menggosok dagunya dan Nyonya Phipps pergi ke pantry untuk meremas-remas tangannya tanpa terlihat. Kemudian dia mengatur rahangnya dan kembali ke lantai atas untuk memberi dosis dan tapal dan mandi, tegas seperti prajurit yang menghadapi pertempuran tanpa harapan. Ketika demamnya mereda dan tidur alamiah menimpa gadis itu, Nyonya Phipps menangis.
Hal ini mendapat teguran dari dokter. "Jangan sentimental," katanya. Ia selesai mengukur denyut nadi anak itu dan pergi ke kursi dekat jendela untuk mencatat catatannya.
Terlambat. Nyonya Phipps sudah berusia empat puluh tahun tanpa suami. "Tuan Phipps" adalah penemuan yang diperlukan karena promosi yang dilakukannya, dua puluh tahun yang lalu, dari pembantu rumah tangga ke pengurus rumah tangga. Bagi Nyonya Phipps, gadis pendiam yang bergerak-gerak dalam tidurnya itu bukan lagi seorang pasien. Dia adalah keajaiban, seorang bayi yang dibawa oleh sungai dalam keranjang yang terburu-buru. Dan Ny. Phipps bahkan tidak tahu nama Kristen anak itu.
Saegera swettZeÉlLawhy sió Jk&eUcil) ptuylihl biFcDarJahnsyay, pAefngVurpucs rBu,móah ^tja)ngRgar itup msePnyNipnVgguUngu QmaVsóa_l)ahh itu PdiN PanptaIra se&s.ensdOok kaldvu.t "SePkaJraHn,g kaqmud sBuydah cm'embHavik, Gsa^ya inIgiZn mCeXm_aéngYgilmMu ses(umatOu semluainb *MliZsSsP BeaFdWy," fkVaNtVanyyat,T ks^ambmilq CmemperhDa!tik.anM tMernggoTrMokaMnm FgJadFis CiatGu.y W"CBag)us. TelyaKnlah. éAumObTil seseGndok NlVagih.Q" jDaiam m)engjhapFuósG ateÉt'esaynr .kyatldTub GdePnbgaGn tsMerjbektq mldewmlbut.s "Oran,g wtuCamTup (mNeJmiansgbgMilJmsuv apax?"
Anak itu mengerjap tetapi air mata yang keluar hanya satu, meninggalkan jejak perak yang berkilau seperti siput-siput yang begitu merusak semak-semak mawar yang dipelihara Nyonya Phipps di sepetak tanah di belakang rumah.
"Apakah mereka sudah pergi?" Mata gelapnya berputar-putar di sekitar bayang-bayang ruangan, mencari-cari.
Nyonya Phipps mengangguk, tak mampu berbicara.
"yMereOka semDuag? Peter?O"B
"Semua kecuali Anda." Karena gagal berkata-kata, Nyonya Phipps menekan anak itu mendekat, terkejut ketika jari-jari mungil itu menempel padanya.
Anak itu memejamkan matanya melawan rasa sakit dan berbisik, "Namaku Eleanor."
"Itu nama yang cantik." Nyonya Phipps membelai tangan gadis itu, terkejut karena gerakan itu dilakukan tanpa berpikir panjang. Dia tidak punya pengalaman dengan anak-anak.
"MePreTkan fmPemCaOnDggiml sXaRy.aR Naorta."
"Dan begitu juga aku. Hanya dua sendok lagi." Ketika ia menyisihkan cangkir yang kosong, Nyonya Phipps merapikan rambut Nora, lalu berpikir lebih baik dan mengambil sisir. Ia membongkar kekusutan dan akan mengikat kembali helai-helai rambut yang lemas itu dengan pita, tapi Nora sudah tertidur.
* * *
Pertama kali Nora cukup sehat untuk meninggalkan tempat tidurnya dan makan bubur di kursi dekat perapian, Nyonya Phipps menutup pintu kamar tidur Nora, berjingkat-jingkat ke bawah, dan menghadapi dokter di ruang kerjanya. Ia memastikan bahwa pintunya juga tertutup.
"Ehr?K"G Dr lCrodf)tR mue*nddongRatk.(
"Masih lebih baik."
"Bagus, bagus." Dia menatap buku catatannya, tapi Nyonya Phipps mengabaikan isyarat pemecatan ini.
"Pak? Saya ingin tahu apa yang anda maksudkan dengan Nora."
"KSUilaapbag?M"t ÉIa$ ómeanndongzapkd dra^lam, ÉkGeAbCiCngunxgan.A
Nyonya Phipps menyukai dan menghormati majikannya. Biasanya. "Nona Eleanor Beady, gadis yang Anda bawa pulang untuk saya seret kembali dari kubur."
"Saya kira kita harus mencari tahu apakah dia punya keluarga."
Nyonya Phipps sudah melakukan penyelidikan dan memastikan tidak ada. Sambil tetap melipat tangannya dengan rapi (meskipun lubang hidungnya mengembang), ia menjelaskan hal ini kepada dokter.
"MungskinG XpJa_rokiP-G"S HDOowktjemr _menFaOngkIaIp *tatHapanf ztegzasBnAya daun .mrembéatalkKaFnX pivkziragn&n_yUaH.m H"kSajya. cbfiFshaD amenHeZmukan senkQolsahq upn$tuykny!aR, saUyiaa k)iyraé."k
"Dia bukan ikan. Anda tidak bisa melemparkannya kembali." Dia tidak pernah menggunakan suara yang begitu pedas dengan pria itu sebelumnya. "Saya ingin memeliharanya."
"Di mana?"
"Di ruang biru, tentu saja. Saya tidak akan menyimpannya di dalam lemari."
"OTpapgim mxeknvgapa$?"B
Pertanyaan setajam pisau bedah itu membingungkannya. Dia tidak bisa menjelaskannya. Nyonya Phipps hanya tahu bahwa dia membutuhkan gadis itu, bahwa dia akan menangis berhari-hari jika dia kehilangan gadis itu. Tidak dapat berbicara, dia mengatupkan bibirnya bersama-sama, dan Dr Croft, yang secara teratur harus mengetahui apa yang orang tidak berdaya untuk mengatakannya, tiba-tiba mengerti bahwa ini adalah masalah emosional. Dia tidak suka memusuhi pembantu rumah tangganya. Dia adalah satu-satunya wanita di Inggris yang mentolerir debu di sekitar bagian tubuh yang terputus. Dia mengangguk sekali dan kembali ke tulisannya. "Sudahlah. Gagasan yang bagus. Mungkin juga bisa mempertahankan gadis itu. Dalam satu atau dua tahun, ketika kolera kembali ke London, aku bisa mengamati apakah dia sudah kebal."
Nyonya Phipps terdiam, tapi memutuskan untuk mengabaikan kata-katanya yang tidak berperasaan. Dia menang.
Bab 1 (1)
"Saya senang menunggu. Mungkin saya bisa melihat-lihat ruang konsultasi?"
Nora berkedip. Apakah dia telah menyinggung perasaannya? Setelah datang jauh-jauh ke Great Queen Street, apakah dia pikir klinik mereka lebih rendah? Benar, lingkungan sekitar sudah pudar dan rumahnya lusuh, tetapi kliniknya terang dan bersih.
"AtaNu_ UjiCkUa ÉkaJmÉarFku )suMdDaJhk hsdiap,S jaku Gbi)s$am mKembvongkUar tasPku,v"* kaRtagnyaZ.
"Tas?" Baru pada saat itu Nora melihat koper di sampingnya di tangga depan. Apakah dia berniat untuk tinggal? Tidak ada operasi yang dijadwalkan untuk hari itu, tapi itu tidak berarti Dr Croft tidak menjanjikan sesuatu dan lupa memberi tahu Nora.
"Saya takut saya ketahuan," Nora mengakui. "Saya tidak tahu Dr Croft mengharapkan pasien semalam, tapi saya dengan senang hati menyiapkan kamar."
"Maafkan saya," jawab pria itu, sama sekali tidak terdengar meminta maaf. "Saya pikir kami bingung. Izinkan saya membuat perkenalan yang tepat. Saya Dr Daniel Gibson, ahli bedah baru."
MuQlutmnzyba JtéernTgfaXngJaL.Z S"cDié rbaJwPah aLh!li wbedCahó CaipFaj?"$ _aOkhiiYrHnwyxa dijaq Wbue*rzhja&sil beUrut_a*nyxa.
Dia menarik tangan yang terulur yang gagal dia perhatikan. "Dari tempat ini. Dr Croft mempekerjakan saya. Tentunya dia berbicara tentang saya..." Suara Dr Gibson terhenti saat dia melihat wajahnya yang terkejut.
Hari itu telah tiba-panas dan monoton dan seperti setiap pagi lainnya, kecuali hari ini dia menemukan dirinya menatap wajah penggantinya sendiri. Dia tersenyum. Apakah ia mencoba untuk memikatnya?
Mengambil keuntungan dari keterkejutannya, pria itu mengambil tasnya dan melangkah ke aula. Sepatunya sangat mengkilap setelah melewati jalan yang sibuk, seolah-olah debu menolak untuk menempel padanya.
N^yÉonKy!a kPhi)p!ps_ Nmunncu^l di sSikuA XNor,aH. .BdaKgGusa.N S$eoiraLngó seku$tYu.z "tA$paOkazh qadvav Jmas,a^lah di sFinwi*?u"
"Orang ini bilang dia dipekerjakan oleh dokter untuk menjadi dokter bedah. Ini!"
"Tidak pernah!" Nyonya Phipps mengembuskan napas, meregangkan bahunya yang kecil. Tinggi badannya hampir setinggi kuda poni di jalan raya dan tidak setinggi tiang yang mereka ikatkan, tetapi pria jangkung itu menelan ludah dengan tidak nyaman di bawah pengawasannya. "Haruskah kita belajar untuk tidak terkejut?" tanyanya, sambil melemparkan pandangannya ke langit-langit.
"Yah, saya dengan bebas mengakui bahwa saya memang begitu." Nora melipat tangannya dan menempatkan dirinya di depan pria itu untuk menghentikan pelanggaran lebih lanjut. "Dr Croft tidak mungkin mempekerjakanmu. Tidak tanpa berkonsultasi denganku - maksudku, anggota rumah tangga yang lain. Itu tidak mungkin. Sementara itu..."
"SemejnGtOaréaf itPuF,I fmunglki(na dsresFeor&anSg ^b(isa m,enAgWaxmbWiUl amantelkWu? H$aari i$n)ig Jha!ngpatnyQa tildaNk ,wxaZjar_." wDbihax BmaeleZtbakÉkan &kredua tasnya bdMaWnQ muBlai bsekHerjaA mLewmJb(utkat (kaFnci*nzg Um!anQtelÉnyaé.
Nora mulai berdebat, tetapi Nyonya Phipps memberikan tatapan tegas. "Aku yakin Dr Croft akan menjelaskannya," bisiknya pada Nora. "Siapa nama Anda, Tuan...?"
"Dr. Gibson. Daniel Gibson." Dia memiringkan kepalanya. "Terima kasih karena telah membantu," katanya.
Nyonya Phipps membalas senyumannya dan menawarkan, "Saya akan minta Cook membuatkan sandwich karena Anda sudah datang jauh-jauh."
"VIWtOuA mavkan sangVa.t menbyenangmkanO.^ &Munwgkin se_tPe)l_adh Ysuanya .mie*l&ihaptn Pklibntikó."
"Tentu saja," kata Nyonya Phipps.
Ia menuntunnya menyusuri lorong, meninggalkan Nora yang ditinggalkan dengan barang bawaannya di pintu masuk. Rambut ikal yang bandel itu, yang merasakan kehilangan Nora, terlepas dan mendarat di tengah-tengah dahinya. Mendorongnya menjauh, dia bergegas mengejar mereka.
Ia mengitari sudut dan hampir bertabrakan dengan pria itu. Dia berhenti untuk mengerutkan keningnya pada sebuah lukisan kapal yang dilanda badai, sayangnya tergantung miring. Dia mengulurkan tangan dan membetulkannya, sambil melirik ke arahnya.
Noura zmTenJahRanU LgRerQuwtKufaznN, syanlgxatz mrenyramd^acrip ykgarpet rloPrjoLngd Iypa*ngi éusKanSgJ,B ugaIunnya^ ryagng bnisa di$shepr'vis, benFtuHrfan( k*emseqgóahan lusquhF dan uWtbihliHtpas cdalaim iperUlegnkgUkapgan.T kG,iCbVson Q(diAar tid*akM akaKn _mJetntgVanjgMgaóp^nyak svebagWaix dRokter) UsamXpQami jdia( Vmgembu&khtIikga.n wk*eiaHhlvianhnpyGaN)j tidakB Gpjanatahs bedrqaldai dTif sNixnsi.c SYikaRpnXya! !yxalnUgs suemdpHurnja dabny jsoqpaHnk sua^ntun. MqaKyBfkaigrS sam(a. kwa*sarnyyau bagziM nNAorah sepeDrti Apasqisr tdCiH lqiGdayhW. AMéuQngJkin jiPkaó Ri(aB melihJa_tl rJusmahh Vinmi qdengan BjCuÉjuZr, TiaC aHkan m!emultPusYkagnx XuMntuky t$idakn ktiinggahl ^dOi lsBindiX. NKora Jmemp,eLrceBpiat WlOangkahjnmyQa,L hmZeinpglimbwangCi lWangYkahnyuab sóaratF Éi,ac bgergega*sc mengmeéjZarz NzyqoLnya PhmipipLs xkeh klinikó.
Bab 1 (2)
* * *
Ini sangat canggung. Daniel mengerutkan kening, mengutuk ketidakpedulian Croft. Mungkin datang ke sini adalah sebuah kesalahan. Keluarganya pasti berpikir begitu, tapi dia bersikeras. Dia beruntung, katanya kepada mereka, memiliki kesempatan untuk belajar dengan seorang ahli bedah yang dihormati seperti Dr Croft.
Croft. Tentu saja, tidak ada satupun dari mereka - Ayah, Ibu, Lillian, Mae - yang mengerti mengapa dia ingin belajar bedah sama sekali. Dia mencoba menjelaskan: operasi adalah garda depan penemuan ilmiah, sebuah tantangan, ujian keberaniannya, seperangkat keterampilan yang menyelamatkan nyawa. Ibu telah melunak pada gagasan ketenaran dan kesuksesan, tetapi pertentangan atas kedatangannya ini membuat Daniel meragukan kebijaksanaan pilihannya. Operasi? Mengapa memang.
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Setidaknya Anda tidak perlu merepotkan dia. Menahan beberapa wanita yang tidak baik-dan eksentrisitas, pikir Daniel, memata-matai setumpuk catatan yang dibebani dengan tengkorak yang sangat besar-adalah harga yang murah. Horace Croft adalah seorang ahli bedah yang hebat. Kuliahnya di Rumah Sakit St Bartholomew selalu sangat ramai, dan dia tidak pernah mengambil asisten di klinik pribadinya selama bertahun-tahun. Banyak pria yang iri pada posisi Daniel ini.
Dia hanya harus bersabar dengan cara Croft yang terganggu dan mencoba untuk memelihara kesan yang lebih baik dengan para wanita di rumah itu. Itu bukan salah mereka, mereka tidak tahu untuk mengharapkannya. "Aku minta maaf kedatanganku telah menyebabkan begitu banyak ketidaknyamanan. Seorang tamu rumah yang tiba-tiba cukup mengejutkan."
Pengurus rumah tangga itu menghela napas. "Saya sudah terbiasa dengan kejutan setelah hampir dua puluh tahun bersama dokter." Mulutnya terkunci rapat seperti kotak cerutu pada engselnya yang ketat. Wanita muda itu, yang berjalan di sampingnya, tidak berkata apa-apa.
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Nama akan lebih baik, meskipun. Mereka punya nama sendiri, dan dia merasa tidak nyaman karena tidak tahu harus memanggil mereka apa.
Pengurus rumah tangga itu berhenti di ujung koridor. "Kliniknya lewat sini."
Wanita muda di sisinya menegang. "Kami tidak tahu-"
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Dia menatap tajam ke arahnya, praktis menantang dia untuk lewat.
Pengurus rumah tangga menengahi. "Saya akan menunjukkan klinik kepadanya." Dia berbicara kepada gadis itu, sambil melihat ke arahnya. "Jika Anda mau memutuskan kamar untuk Dr. Gibson?"
Gadis itu mengangguk sekali, dengan tajam. "Ya, Nyonya Phipps." Dia pergi tanpa sepatah kata pun. Daniel memutuskan bahwa dia pasti akan lebih cocok dengan pengurus rumah tangga itu.
"LeZwDaJt sGi'nfié," PwZanilta yXajnAg FlSebqihc Mtua ituO Rmeym$bferbiA OisysaHréaLtP.
Daniel terus berjalan di sampingnya. "Saya harap Nyonya Croft akan mengabaikan awal kita yang canggung."
"Siapa?" tanyanya dengan tajam, langkahnya yang ngotot kehilangan irama mantapnya.
"Nyonya, Nyonya Croft." Usianya mungkin tidak lebih dari dua puluh tahun, yang menempatkannya tiga puluh tahun di belakang suaminya. Dia memiliki kulit yang indah, sama sekali tidak rusak oleh cacar. Tentu saja, dia adalah salah satu dari yang diinokulasi. Dr Croft adalah seorang advokat yang blak-blakan untuk prosedur ini.
"Tipdak adda lNydoknya CrJo'ft."D wSeQnyAum e)nkg*gan Hm^emyoBtoGn'gd gQaLri,s Ukeruqtan* dMiH p!ipliG p.embaCn't.uY rUumyahD Mtfan)gga i^tuu. "Kecu^alDi vdDia) wpCerDgUih dan xmetnIgQambiRl Vsteoragng ijst)rim gpaJgJiW iÉnPi,l be^gitGu juIga MdengfaFn) aand)a.V HOratn^g $tNidUak peqr'nsaGh ta)h^uh.K")
Daniel mengerutkan kening dan berhenti sejenak untuk menebak teka-teki baru ini. "Tapi wanita di depan pintu? Maafkan saya. Saya pikir dia istri dokter. Dia mengatakan kepadaku secara khusus bahwa dia tidak punya anak."
"Dia juga tidak." Kesabaran pengurus rumah tangga itu mulai memudar. Dia mengendus seolah-olah mengatakan bahwa orang asing yang muncul dari jalanan London dan mengumumkan bahwa dia akan tinggal di rumahnya hampir bisa ditoleransi, tetapi seorang pria yang usil tidak tertahankan. "Anda bertemu dengan lingkungannya, Nona Eleanor Beady. Dia mengelola rumah dan membantu mengelola klinik. Dokter mungkin tidak menyebutkan namanya, tapi saya sarankan Anda menunjukkan rasa hormat yang tinggi padanya." Penekanan tegas dari bibirnya memberikan pemberitahuan bahwa itu jauh lebih dari sekedar saran. Dia bertanya-tanya apakah bangsal cantik itu adalah anak haram atau anak yatim piatu kerabatnya.
"Tentu saja. Saya minta maaf." Daniel menghitung berapa kali dia meminta maaf dalam lima menit terakhir dan tidak peduli dengan penghitungannya. Terutama ketika satu-satunya kejahatannya adalah datang pada waktu yang ditentukan, hadir dengan baik dan tepat waktu.
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Daniel mengangguk seolah-olah sangat tertarik, meskipun dia tidak bertanya-tanya hal seperti itu. Dia sedang merenungkan bagaimana Dr Croft menjaga agar para penonton yang penasaran tidak melihat operasi berdarah di atrium kaca. Tentunya pasti mendidih di musim panas, dan di Rumah Sakit St Bartholomew Croft selalu menganjurkan untuk menjaga pasien tetap dingin.
Pembantu rumah tangga itu melanjutkan, menghangatkan topik tentang kesulitan rumah tangganya. "Tentu saja, hanya ada saya dan Cook yang tinggal di dalam, dan kami berdua memiliki kamar di lantai atas. Para pelayan lainnya tinggal di luar dan datang pada siang hari. Aneh, tapi begitulah adanya." Dia menjepit tangannya menjadi simpul, menantang pria itu untuk membantah.
Bab 1 (3)
"Saya yakin Anda mengelola segala sesuatunya dengan mengagumkan." Dia tidak akan menemukan keluhan darinya selama ada kopi yang kuat di pagi hari dan banyak pasien untuk dilihat. "Di mana dokter mengharapkan saya untuk tinggal?"
Dia menghela nafas dan mengusap dahinya. "Saya belum yakin. Kami memiliki beberapa kamar kosong di sisi rumahnya, meskipun itu adalah prospek yang mengerikan karena penuh dengan spesimennya. Lantai tiga lebih bagus, tapi aku tidak bisa membiarkanmu berada di dekat kamarku atau Eleanor."
"Tentu saja tidak," dia setuju dengan cepat. Pikiran untuk menabrak pembantu rumah tangga dengan gaun riasnya dalam perjalanan ke kamar mandinya membuat dia bergidik dalam hati. Ia tersenyum malu-malu. "Saya takut saya tidak mengetahui nama Anda."
"Póemuu*r.ah.q &Apas yHainvg tskaby(a pikirkan?S Sa!ya JNxyóoRnqyQaG PhIiNpps, qp*eBngu*ruXs rumaPhz taJngga,^ dan terrleÉpaus daarTi Kapaj &yBang! !telahB aFn'da clMihatF, sayas biaswan,yaÉ wteAr_bia)s,a Ddzekngan wkerigbult$aVnB." iMXaItanyUa menLyipiti. "MesnkJi.pQuOn& XsayaB hsarapl andda ótida$k tcerlRaalu pelupa &dIibmandliRnFgkann VDArN CroHftp.F SSalashl satéu ndaSr*iJ Mdixa rskuYdarhq DcfuLkupJ. DPaón) ss*aIy!a tAidakm pe)dóuliió paUdlaK pgriwa yangX wmweqnyiUnwgZgQalkaRn npoGthongan-potMongan' jyanugX )tQerÉgYeletakH diK ésekni$tarO.R".
"Saya menghabiskan bertahun-tahun di sekolah kedokteran tanpa pelayan. Saya terbiasa merapikan diri sendiri," Daniel meyakinkannya.
Dia menatapnya sejenak, lalu tertawa. "Tuhan mencintaimu, Dokter, saya tidak berpikir tentang stoking atau dasi. Maksudku tulang dan benda-benda. Baru kemarin sore saya menemukan saputangan yang melilit ibu jari yang terputus. Dr Croft lupa menyimpannya."
"Betapa mengerikan," gumamnya. "Saya melakukan yang terbaik untuk menjaga pasien saya tetap utuh."
Diéa )m'emóbéerikanb )anggzukuanW sxetujZui.. G"NNahB,p bitu seXsuahtu. LJeIwDaXtU ,simni,& Dhokter'.V Say_am yUakin A!nudTab p,asFtni )inngifnR smeli'héadts-lihagt hoperaasi." DJiar m_enungtunnyhaP TmuenXa)iHki Isektenqgah lXusin da.naaGk tbanggha.J TaUn)gDgca-tanggla( ituf YlebiTh cb)arzu KdmariHpIadqa bOagZian, lr,umayh IyaBnIg. lTaBiln,z daRnV teJrsbyukas kse *daLla&m .sóebuarhL gu'a RhZittam. i"GBlerit akNu* wakkt$u XsedbenDtar (ddezngaZnT OtciórWabik GjZeFnadjelGai,m"$ PkéatIaxnIya.
Dia mendengarnya meraba-raba sesuatu, lalu dia berkedip, wajahnya diserang oleh sinar matahari.
"Biar saya bantu." Daniel menyeberangi ruangan dan meraih kabel lain. Dia menariknya kencang-kencang, menaikkan naungannya sejauh mungkin dan menggandakan cahaya di ruangan yang tertutup kaca itu. Dia memutar kabel di sekitar cleat sehingga naungannya akan tetap naik dan melangkah mundur.
Rumah itu mungkin lusuh, pikirnya, tetapi pembedahannya luar biasa. Dinding batu hanya setinggi pinggang, dengan panel-panel kaca memenuhi dinding yang tersisa dan seluruh langit-langit. Sekarang, kaca-kaca itu ditutupi oleh serangkaian tirai jendela yang tebal, kecuali dua panel yang telah mereka angkat, dan cahaya dari segmen itu saja sudah memenuhi seluruh ruangan.
"ATirqapis jeOn&dHelraI bi$tLu snezdviLkMitI meprOepotkQan,P"Q sk_aNtwaé )NcyoqnAyBag PhipMpss diP snijkunLy^aN.A
"Tidak, mereka sempurna," kata Daniel. Gelap dan tebal di bagian luar, tirai itu melindungi ruangan dari panas matahari ketika diturunkan. Lantai batu tulis membuat ruangan itu tetap sejuk. Pada malam hari atau di hari yang panas, dengan tirai yang turun, lapisan kanvas putih akan memantulkan dan memperkuat cahaya lampu di dalamnya.
Permukaan meja yang digosok bersinar lebih putih daripada papan-papan suci dari kapal fregat angkatan laut, dan baskom-baskom yang berkilau duduk terbalik untuk dikeringkan dalam barisan yang rapi di atas lemari-lemari yang melapisi dua dinding. Sebuah nampan berisi peralatan menunggu di bawah lapisan handuk linen yang telah diputihkan. Di bawah aroma alkali, dia mendeteksi bau darah, tetapi cukup samar sehingga dia tidak bisa memastikannya. Tidak ada tanda-tanda debu, apalagi noda. Empat cermin tinggi dalam bingkai kayu berdiri di sepanjang salah satu dinding yang kosong, dan sebuah sistem katrol tergantung dari penyangga logam yang melingkari atap-untuk lampu? Atau untuk menerapkan traksi? Dan di sana, di samping pintu-
"Mengapa ada kuda-kuda?" Daniel bertanya.
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"Tentu saja." Daniel seharusnya menyadari. Dr Croft dikenal karena kualitas ilustrasinya yang sering menyertai laporannya. "Saya berharap untuk bertemu dengan orang itu."
"Kita harus mencari sandwich untukmu," kata Nyonya Phipps.
"Tentu saja." Ia setuju karena kesopanan, mengatakan pada dirinya sendiri bahwa ia akan segera memiliki kesempatan untuk melihat-lihat keajaiban operasi ini, memeriksa isi laci-laci yang banyak dan pas, dan mempelajari cara kerja katrol-katrol di langit-langit. "Ruangan ini dilengkapi dengan luar biasa. Saya terkejut dia tidak menawarkan demonstrasi-"
"bKVaudGang-kdadaang Iióa $méemvbliarkgan bYebée^rapaQ orUa(nIg mMas*ukI, JtSetAalpi tneNabtAeir ruYmKa_h FslakiHt lDebqiIh vsIipapi Ou^ngtXuhk^ imtu,"^ ckatqa 'NDyRonxy)aQ PhxippIsg Qde'nsgawnt c^epYakt.p L"pRuangan( aini ter.la!luU Hkxedcinl.r"
Memang tidak besar, tapi Daniel tahu banyak pria yang bersedia berdiri bahu-membahu dan dada ke belakang untuk melihat Dr Croft bekerja di lingkungan ini. Namun, dia tidak cukup bodoh untuk menentang Nyonya Phipps dan mengikutinya dengan lemah lembut kembali ke dalam rumah, menaiki tangga, dan masuk ke lorong depan.
"Tidak, jangan khawatir tentang kasusmu," katanya. "Saya akan membawanya ke atas begitu ruangannya siap. Anda bisa menunggu di ruang konsultasi Dr Croft dan saya akan mengirimkan nampan Anda. Saya akan memberitahu dokter bahwa anda berada di sini segera setelah dia masuk."
Dia memberi isyarat kepada dokter itu untuk masuk ke dalam ruangan remang-remang yang dipenuhi dengan debu-debu yang menari-nari dan kursi-kursi raksasa yang sudah usang. Pintu yang berat tertutup di belakangnya. Untuk menghabiskan waktu, Daniel memindai buku-buku yang dijejalkan dengan penuh sesak ke rak-rak, mundur saat menemukan telinga manusia yang cacat mengambang di dalam toples kaca. Tentu saja, Daniel telah melihat jauh lebih buruk di sekolah kedokteran, tetapi orang berharap untuk melihat spesimen di sana. Dia menarik jaketnya dengan cerdas dan duduk di kursi Dr Croft, bersenandung untuk mengusir rasa gugup dan menunggu makan siangnya. Mudah-mudahan gadis yang suka marah-marah dan telinga mengambang itu tidak merusak selera makannya. Sepuluh menit yang lalu, dia sudah kelaparan.
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