CHAPTER 36

 THE BURNING PAIN returned. Like a hot knife slicing through his gut, it seared his insides, causing him to writhe back and forth as he clutched his stomach. Mayhew could do nothing but lie on his bed and hope the pills kicked in quickly.

“What have you done to me?” he gasped, thinking of his aunt’s brew and remembering the conversation with his doctor earlier in the day.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Dr. Kinnelly said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You were showing signs of improvement and the lab work indicated your white cell count was increasing at a fairly good rate.”

“So why do I feel so tired now and have these horrible stomach cramps? I can’t sleep or eat and feel weak all over.”

“I don’t know what’s happening, but you’re tired because you barely have any T-cells left. It’s like they’ve been almost totally eradicated from your system. I can only imagine the cramps are from your digestive system shutting down. Have you done anything different since your last visit?”

Not wanting to get his aunt in trouble, Mayhew shook his head.

“Okay. I’m going give you a shot to help with the pain and prescribe a strong analgesic for the stomach problem. My nurse will schedule you to come in for a transfusion in the morning, then a complete blood exchange next week. We need to get those T-cells up or replace them quickly. Without them, your whole body is going to turn on you. I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’ll check with some of my colleagues to see if they’ve heard of anything similar to this. Hopefully, one of them will have a suggestion.”

Mayhew sat silently, saying nothing. What was there left to say?

“Now, you go home and rest... and don’t do anything or go anywhere until my nurse calls. I want you on call and ready to come in the minute you hear from her.”

Numb from the realization that he was dying, Mayhew stumbled to his car and drove home. It was time to call Cornelius. His lover would call their friends to organize his farewell bash. It didn’t take a genius to know his doctor was only delaying the inevitable.

Whatever his aunt had given to him had apparently backfired, causing the virus to proliferate at a phenomenal rate. Her cure had gone horribly wrong, but Mayhew didn’t feel any anger toward her. Out of love, she had tried her best to help him in the only way she knew how, and for that, he was grateful. He carried that belief in her and his love for her to his grave a month later.

*  *  *

Lucretia stood silently beside the headstone, her head bowed. Behind her, Boudreau held a large umbrella, shielding his mistress from the rain while she wept over her nephew’s grave. Water poured down his face and neck, soaking his shirt under the raincoat, but he stood very still, making sure the priestess was well protected from the weather. Tears, mixed with raindrops, slid unnoticed down his cheeks.

She is dying, he thought sadly. Her heart is broken and I can do nothing for her but watch her wither away.

“Venez, maîtresse,” he said softly to Lucretia, noticing her shivering. “Vous êtes froide et il commence à faire noir.” He took her gently by the arm and led her away from the gravesite to the limousine.  Frail and in poor health, the cold night air was causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

“Il est mort, Boudreau,” she whispered, her voice weak from crying. “Je l’ai tellement aimé”

“I know!” he agreed sadly. We all loved him, he thought.

“Je l’ai tué,” she whispered. “He was so young and I keeled him,” she added.

“No! Eet was the seekness, nothing more. Eet was God’s weel.” Boudreau tried to comfort her. For more than twenty years, he had served her faithfully and would continue to do so. Nothing could change that.

Nodding, Lucretia didn’t argue. It was easier to believe her servant than to face the horrible truth.

As the car left the cemetery, the priestess stared at her hands, searching for signs of the sickness that was now ravaging her own body. The thin skin couldn’t hide the enlarged veins protruding across their backs nor the emaciated condition of her hands. Quickly tucking them in her coat pockets, she leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. A dark, humorless laughter danced momentarily across her mind sending a chill through her body.

“Ramus,” she thought, finally understanding his final words to her. She had doomed her nephew and herself to a horrible death.