The Witch's Patron

Chapter 7

Noori wasn't sure what she had expected when Captain Saskia Denali came to collect her, but this wasn't this.

Something was very wrong, indeed: her father was gravely ill.

When she, Toddrick, and the Captain stormed though her front door, Noori recoiled. The whole house had a sour putrid smell about it that hit them like a gale.

"I stopped by for a visit," Captain Denali explained as she led them to the stairs. "When I arrived I found the door wide open. He was only a few paces in, unconscious in a pool of his own sick."

Noori's heart clenched. She couldn't bring herself to imagine her father — the strongest man alive as far as she was concerned — in such a vulnerable position. She raced up the stairs to his room, the others following behind her, and stopped dead in her tracks when she found him.

"Papa!" she cried, rushing to his bedside. "What happened to you?"

He looked as though he had aged twenty years in the handful of hours since she'd seen him last. His skin was lined, pale and brittle-looking. It even appeared as though he had lost weight, his cheeks sunken in.

"Stay back, Noori," Dak wheezed. Every word sounded like torture for him to speak. "I don't want you to be exposed to this."

"Nonsense. I'm going to take care of you," she huffed, pulling the scarf from her head. Her abundant hair bounced about her face like a halo as she tied the scarf like a makeshift mask around her face. "Toddrick, will you please fetch some water? He needs to drink. Captain, thank you for getting me."

As Toddrick bounded back down the stairs to the kitchen, the Captain Denali squeezed Noori's hand. Her shimmering gaze stayed locked on Dak, her expression stricken with worry. "I'll fetch the doctor."

Noori nodded. Once she was alone, she crept to her father's side. The sight of him like this was almost more than she could bear — her stomach twisted and she fought back the urge to vomit.

"It's going to be okay, Papa," she whispered softly. "The doctor will be here soon. I'm going to take care of you. You'll be better in no time at all."

Dak forced a tight-lipped smile for his daughter's benefit. It only lasted a fleeting second before his whole face puckered into a grimace.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, her voice wavering dangerously close along the edge of tears. "What do you need?"

The only answer he could give her was the strangled whine that escaped between his tightly clenched teeth. A single tear squeezed from the corner of his eye and followed the creases that lined his face as it fell. Noori's mind reeled — she had never seen him this way and it frightened her. 

When Toddrick returned, Noori took the glass he offered and busied herself with carefully trickling water between her father's parched lips. It was impossible to tell if it helped, but it felt better to be doing something. She stayed at his side, whispering heartfelt words of encouragement until Denali barged back in with a man called Dr. Faned on her heels. He was the same physician Noori herself had been seeing since she was a baby, and she was rocked with relief to see him. She stepped back and allowed Toddrick to drape an arm over her shoulder as he steered her from the room.

"Don't worry, Noori," he said softly, giving her a squeeze that made her feel like she was being suffocated. "Your dad's a fighter. He's going to be fine. 

She nodded, barely registering a word he said. "I'm going to refill this." She motioned to the empty drinking glass still clutched in her hand. Toddrick didn't try to follow her, which she was glad for. She inched down the stairs in a daze and when she was sure she was very much alone, Noori slid down the wall, onto her knees, and let herself cry.