Lord Liverchester

chapter 19

We left Colbridge that morning. I never saw Wilson, Hartley, or Barnaby again, but we later heard from them in letters. I thought about them all the way home, a seemingly longer journey than getting there had been. Dorian wouldn't tell me how many days it had been. I had lost track, and it was more than the initial three days we planned to take. It took longer due to storms, and Dorian wasn't in a hurry. Sometimes I was, sick of the water and lack of comforts. We docked and explored towns along the coast twice, but I never once wandered by myself. It felt like we sailed and wandered for weeks. Over this time, Dorian's beard grew thicker and so did he. Because of all the booze and salt he consumed, he bloated well past his normal size. I worried about his health, keeping a close eye on him. Despite the changes, he acted completely normal, even running around the ship to shovel coal, then back up again to steer. In our down time, we had plenty of things to do. There were books to read, songs to sing, stories to tell. My mind was always occupied with something, good or bad. It was the last two days in particular that stand out to me. Whether they occurred after a week, or more or less, they still stick with me. I don't know what really led up to these days. They were hell, but were followed by the most heavenly night of my life.

On the morning of the second to last day, Dorian was oddly energetic, wide awake and talking fast. First he announced that we were almost home, set to be back in Devonbury by the next day. He was excited and articulated it well, but he was unable to focus on anything. His gaze shifted often, and his hands were shaking. I stared at him, trying to figure out was off about him. Up until then, he had been tired, dragging his heavier body around the deck with difficulty. I had never seen him like this before. I shrugged it off, unable to figure it out. In a moment of calm, he showed me the weird metal thing he'd been carrying around. It was finally explained to me, what its purpose was. He looked through it up at the sky and told me what he saw. The sky was supposed to be blue no matter what, regardless of the weather. If there were red streaks, demons were nearby. If there were storm clouds, somebody was going to die. There were other things, such as sunlight or a visible planet that could mean no danger was present but on the horizon. Looking up now, the normal sky was cloudy, white fluff covering an otherwise blue sky. Through the strange metal object, all that showed was the blue.

"All this time, there have been red lines all over the place," Dorian said. "Everything looks good now. I don't think I've ever seen pure blue through this before."

That knowledge was a relief. If anything would show us we had done our job, this was it. I sighed softly, a gentle breeze bringing the smell of Dorian's cologne toward me with the salty smell of the sea. He rubbed my back and led me back to the cabin, preparing lunch for himself. He had stocked up on a lot of food, so now he could feast at every meal. The wine was flowing near constantly, but I never drank any again. Waking up feeling sick just once was enough to swear me off of it for good. Throwing up once was enough. Dorian went on business as usual, but his hands still shook and that strange look in his eyes was getting worse. More and more often throughout the day, his eyes were rolling in the back of his head. I feared what was happening but I didn't ask. By sundown, I was avoiding him, keeping distance to watch him. It didn't take a doctor to tell something was wrong with him. Francis sensed it too, more courageous than I and more willing to ask what was going on. Dorian was oblivious, but the rest of us were watching him go insane. If only I had remembered his medication. If only any of us had remembered. Instead, we forgot about it, and slowly but surely, he was soon on the floor, crawling away from and kicking at nothing. His paranoia sent him over the edge, running around the deck and shouting at the water. I feared he would jump over the edge, using all my strength to grab him and carry him back down to the cabin. I locked the door, refusing to let him out. He raged, seething and whining. He was a mess, pulling at his hair and stripping his clothes off, throwing them at me. I cowered in the corner fearfully as Francis tried to get Dorian to calm down, but then the screams started. He gave up, lying on the floor and begging for his visions to take him. I wondered what was the worst they could do, if something I couldn't see really would hurt him. He clawed at the wood floor so hard his fingers were bleeding. His screaming got louder, nearly deafening. He was yelling at something to go away, scrambling to get away from it. I had covered my head with a blanket, but I peered out to see what was happening. Dorian was coming closer to me, pure fear in his eyes. I felt so bad, offering my space to let him hide. He climbed on top of me, pulling everything off of the bed over us. Then he fell to the floor again, hitting his head hard on the wood. The sound his head made when making contact with the floor was sickening. Somehow he wasn't knocked out, clinging to me and struggling to get up. I held him, but not for long. He twitched like something was poking him in the back, writhing to make it go away. It got worse until he just collapsed on me, slumping and pushing me downward. I lied there with all his weight on me, unable to get him off. In the panic of not being able to breathe, I also worried about his health and safety. With Francis' help, I got Dorian settled into the pile of blankets, not sure what to think. Dorian was alive, thank God, but his eyes were rolling and he couldn't focus on me. I had flashbacks to when he threw up blood, thinking it would happen again. There was no blood, and he could grip my hand. But he couldn't look at me. I started crying, watching him twitching and trying so hard to look at me. Finally, he opened his eyes and the twitches stopped. He brought my hand closer to his chest to feel his heartbeat. He was panting and his heart was beating so fast. He was soaking wet with cold sweat, his brown eyes still wide with fear. I soothed him, running my hand through his now wet hair. He realized before I did what had happened.