The Killing Dreams

Ginger Tea

Chapter 5

Ginger Tea

Nigel knelt by his parent's bedside for what seemed like hours, watching them through dull eyes. Occasionally he would dare to stretch out a hand, only to withdraw it suddenly. He would not be responsible for his parents catching fire. And with a sour grunt, he looked away. Unconsciously his mournful gaze went to a window. The light of the moon dimly lit the ground outside, but not with the pale blue hue of most nights. This time there was a tinge of red.

'What was taking Atticus so long? Why isn't he back yet?' Gritting his teeth, Nigel instantly regretted that selfish thought. He knew Sam and Jessica needed the monk as much as he, though that did little to ease his anxiety.

Like an answer to his prayers, the creaks of a swinging door reached his ears. Wasting not a moment, he rose to his feet and halted at the threshold between kitchen and bedroom.

"Atticus? - finally," breathed Nigel, calling to the monk.

With the door closing gently behind Atticus, the youth was taken aback by the expression the monk bore. Sad, heavy lidded eyes rose to meet his.

Nigel stiffened. "It's not good- is it?" His horse voice just barely managed the words, and no others would come to his lips.

"No. It's not," replied Atticus, his own voice frog-like and weary. Peering into his satchel where his medicines were kept, the monk breathed deeply and sighed. "And how are your parents?"

Nigel felt his heart skip a beat. It took a moment before he could reply. "Resting, but not peacefully."

Atticus nodded and wordlessly made for the bedroom door.

"The Vandahalls?" asked Nigel. "Are they okay?"

Atticus turned a fraction as he spoke. "Give me a moment to check on your parents."

"What about the Vandahalls?" persisted Nigel. "Aren't you going to say?"

Atticus acted as if he had not heard the question.

Nigel gripped the monk by the arm. "Please. Tell me. I need to know. Are they okay?"

With his outstretched hand still on the doorknob, Atticus gave his reply. "Mr and Misses Vandahall will rest for eternity. May they know only peace," he uttered mournfully. "Now- If you will..."

Nigel loosened his grip, allowing the monk to enter the room. He did not follow, for the stunning news held him fast. His mind was being bombarded by emotions ranging from denial to guilt. 'If this could happen to the Vandahall's, then it could as easily happen to his parents. More grievous still was his assurance to Sam that everything would be all right, that his parents would get better.' The recollection was painful and brought tears to his eyes. His thoughts suddenly turned to Jessica. 'How was she taking it?' He long to comfort her as he himself longed to be comforted, but there was nothing to do but wait.

Over the course of the next hour, Nigel's patience ran thin. He was tired of feeling helpless, yet his impetuous mood only produced a jaw-creaking yawn. His body wanted sleep, but he did not. Finally Atticus stepped from the bedroom.

"How are they?" blurted Nigel. "Are they better? Are they still having nightmares?"

"It still persists I'm afraid," said the monk regrettably. "There's no cure for nightmares. We need to give it time."

"Time?" spat Nigel, raising his voice. "That's it? Is that all you got to say?" Scowling, he paced the room like a madman. "All those herbs, teas and ointments you carry- and what good are they?"