Plague Saint [REMOVING FOR PUBLICATION JUNE 1]

Chapter Three: Sinner in Saint's Clothing

Two weeks earlier, Winter was at the hospital to visit her mother. Mom had been there a week already with the blue plague, and while she didn't seem to be getting worse, she wasn't getting better, either.

It was late, but technically still visiting hours. The Plague Saint must not have expected anyone else tonight, though. When Winter reached the open doorway to Mom's room, he was in the middle of putting a pale blue liquid in her IV. Blue-X. Winter was ready to ask him how her mother was doing when a second man spoke.

"I'll be in a lot of meetings the next couple of weeks," the man said. "Won't be around much. But I think you can figure out who to treat with what. I'll send a message if anything changes."

The Plague Saint nodded. The low light gleamed off his mask's bronze beak.

The man took a step forward and examined the bag attached to Mom's IV. "What is this, anyway? Some sort of poison?"

"Nothing harmful," the Saint told him. "Nothing that would raise suspicion. Simply a blue-dyed solution."

"How long do you think she has left?"

"Without real treatment? Not more than three days."

Winter took a step back from the door and pressed a hand over her mouth.

Footsteps approached the door. She was only aware of her heartbeat drowning everything else out, and then the cold wall behind her pressing into her back.

The second man, dressed in a blue suit, stepped out of the room and walked past Winter. He cast her the briefest glance as he did, but didn't seem concerned by the trembling, disheveled mess backed against the wall. He probably saw people like her all the time. People who'd received what might be the worst news of their life.

Winter's gaze darted to the left as the door clicked shut. The Plague Saint was still in the room. It was still visiting hours. If she could avoid acting like a wreck for two minutes, maybe she could find out what was happening without letting him know what she'd heard.

Winter stomped up to the door and threw it open, warning him of her approach. "Oh, you're in here," she said. The door clicked shut behind her. She pulled her shaking hand off the handle. "Sorry to interrupt. What is that? More Blue-X?"

The Plague Saint turned around slowly. "You're her daughter?"

Winter nodded.

"Yes, this is another dose of Blue-X." The Saint glanced at Winter's sleeping mother. "I'm afraid she hasn't shown much improvement today, though. I'm sorry. I don't know if the Blue-X will be enough."

"But that is Blue-X?"

The Plague Saint paused. Then, slowly, he straightened up and took a step forward, and Winter found herself staring into the glassy black eyes of his mask.

"What else would it be?"

Winter's gaze darted nervously to the staff leaning against her mother's bed, then back to the Saint. "I—" Was there anyone nearby? Nurses? Other doctors? And even if there was, would they take her side if she accused the Saint of planning to let her mother die?

Probably not.

But Winter couldn't just let this happen.

"I heard you talking to someone before I came in," Winter said. "I'm not stupid, I—"

"Please, come with me. My office is on this floor." The Plague Saint grabbed his staff and bag, and nodded for Winter to follow him out of the room.

When they entered his office, the Saint gestured to the empty chair across from his desk. "Have a seat. I think you may have misunderstood what you heard."