Harwal, book 3

Chapter 8

"They're here, yes, don't be so alarmed," Mateo says as calmly as he usually does. He gently pries my hands off his arms and checks behind him. "Let me deal with this patient, and I'll take you to them. Everything is fine."

Everything is fine? The door closes with a gentle clack in front of my face, and I'm stuck frozen in my spot.

Everything. Is. Fine? How can everything be fine when they're at the doctors?

I stumble back a step and stare at the white, smudged door. I hold my breath to try and keep the panic rising in my chest inside. I resist the urge to slam and kick the door, to demand where my son is. How can Mateo expect me to just sit still and wait?

I tug my fingers and force myself to stare down at them, to have anything else to focus on. I take small choppy breaths to try and calm down. I have known Mateo for years. He was the one who helped me give birth. He knows everything about me, grandma, and Dante. He has never lied, but I can't trust that before I see my boy in the flesh.

The door opens again, and I jerk. A frail woman comes out with a smudged face and clothes. She gives me an angry stare as she pushes past me. I rush into the doctor's room, ignoring the angry yells of me skipping the line behind me.

"Mateo, please tell me what's going on. Where is Dante?"

Mateo sits behind his counter and takes his reading glasses off his wrinkly and tired face. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Sofia, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down when my son's health is—"

Mateo smacks the table to shut me up. "Listen to me," he orders and walks around the table. "Follow me to their room."

I jerk a nod and follow Mateo's tiny form to the side door, which leads to the hallway that holds the small amount of patient rooms he owns.

"He's alright for now, but I don't know what is wrong with young Dante," he says, and my heart drops down to my stomach.

"What do you…"

"I'm not an expert on Zohra diseases. I've researched and asked around a lot since he was born, but I don't know everything. This is one of those times. I have kept asking, but we don't have any Zohra doctors in Joddel," he says, walking calmly through the empty hallway. "I have given him pain medication and—"

"Pain? He's in pain?" I interrupt him, and he stops to turn to me with a scowl.

"Listen to me," he repeats, unmoving. "He has symptoms that humans never get. He bleeds from his eyes, and the color isn't normal either. Then his veins have started to show clearly on his arms, which, I think, indicates something is wrong with his blood circulation…"

Mateo keeps talking, but I can't focus. The ground and walls spin violently with my head. I feel sick. I lean on the wildly spinning wall and try to form words.

"Help him…" I croak and try to grab Mateo, to beg him to help my boy, but my hand only whiffs through air. My vision blurs with tears, and the world keeps spinning out of control. "Please help—"

Strong, bony hands dig into my arms, and Mateo's swirling face is right in mine. "Sofia!" He yells and shakes me. "He is fine for now. He's a strong boy. It's only happening every now and then, but the frequency of it is increasing. You need to help me get a Zohra doctor to help me."

A Zohra doctor? I stare blankly at him.

Every fiber of my being is regretting. I refused the offer Jas gave me. She offered for a doctor to come with me, and I said no. Maybe that would've been a Zohra, or a human, anyone who knew what my son was dealing with.