Sean Cullen - The Prince of Neither Here Nor There

“This way,” Brendan said, leading them in the direction the arrow indicated. They hurried down the hall.

“Why are we trying to find this homeless guy exactly?” Harold asked.

“Because my babka told us we had to,” Dmitri explained. “She’s a psycho.”

“Psychic!” Brendan corrected. “I have to find him if I want to find my sort of magical amulet thingy. It’s a quest, kind of.”

Harold shook his head and grinned. “This is so freakin’ cool. I mean, I could be in math right now but instead I’m on a quest for an amulet. This totally kicks math’s butt.”

Brendan said, with just a touch of sarcasm, “I’m glad you think so.”

They turned a corner and found themselves in an open square with a nurses’ station in the middle. The nurses’ station consisted of a square counter that surrounded a couple of desks and filing cabinets. Working at the desks were two nurses. Patients’ rooms opened off the central area. The lighting was subdued, and the mysterious sound of electronic monitors and medical devices hummed and pinged softly.

Brendan, Harold, and Dmitri walked along, looking at the numbers on the doors: “1719. 1720. This is it! 1721!” Brendan announced. He reached for the handle.

“Excuse me.” A female voice froze them in their tracks. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Brendan turned to see a short, plump woman approaching. She wore a white cotton coat over green scrubs. Her gold nameplate read RITA. She looked at the three boys with her blue eyes and waited for a response.

“We’re here to visit Finbar Shaughnessy,” Brendan said hopefully.

“Are you family?”

“No. Just friends. The lady downstairs said it would be all right.”

“The lady downstairs doesn’t run this ward,” Nurse Rita snapped. “I do. You can’t just barge in here and demand to see a patient.”

“We are not demanding to see him, Madame,” Dmitri said sweetly. “We would really like to see him, maybe cheer him up.” The sad eyes were on full blast.

“Don’t try to charm me, young man.” Nurse Rita waved a finger in Dmitri’s face. “There are rules!”

“Please, ma’am,” Brendan begged. “We just want to say hello. Tell him Brendan is here to see him.”

Nurse Rita was about to protest, but she stopped when she heard Brendan’s name. “Humph. Brendan is it? Well.” She looked at each of the boys and made a decision. “You wait here. I’ll see if he’s awake. If he isn’t, you’ll have to come back later.”

She went to the door of 1721 and opened it a crack. “Mr. Shaughnessy? Are you awake?” They heard a grunt from inside the room and she nodded. “I have some folks here to see you.” She nodded at the boys and held open the door. Brendan led the others through.

“He’s been asking for you ever since he came in here,” Nurse Rita said softly to Brendan. “We didn’t even know if you really existed. He’s had quite a bad knock and he’s no spring chicken. I have to say he’s recovered very well for a man of his years.” She took one last look toward the bed and closed the door.

Finbar was propped up in his hospital bed, the adjustable bed angled forward and a couple of pillows under his back. The room was bare and stark, the walls a sickly shade of pale green. There was a single chair in the corner, a rolling table, and a cheap wardrobe up against the wall. Finbar’s weathered boots rested on the floor in front of the wardrobe.

Finbar did not look good. His head was tightly wound with a gauze bandage. He was dressed in a hospital gown with short sleeves, his stringy arms folded on his lap and his hands clutching a cup of water with a lid on it and a bendy straw. An IV bag hung by the bed, its clear fluid dripping into a plastic tube that was attached to the man’s arm. A heart monitor beeped softly above the bed.

Dmitri and Harold hung back as Brendan went to stand beside the old man’s bed. Finbar’s eyes followed him, the pale blue orbs burning with a fevered intensity. The heart monitor sped up slightly.

“I knew ye’d come,” the old man said. “I knew sure as the nose on my face.”

Brendan found Finbar’s stare a little disturbing. “You did? How did you know?”

The old man laughed a raspy, chesty sound that transformed into a coughing fit. “I knew ‘cause ye’d have to find yer token, don’t ye? Yer wee necklace.”

Brendan’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

“Sure and I was there when you were left on the doorstep as a babe. Them nuns didn’t see ya for what ye was but I did, didn’t I?”

“Nuns? I don’t understand. What nuns?”

Finbar cackled again. “You don’t know the first thing, do ye? Kept ya in the dark all these years, poor lad. Poor Prince Breandan.” He started to laugh again and broke down into a fresh coughing fit. Brendan grabbed the cup of water and raised the straw to the old man’s lips.

Brendan was startled to hear his name spoken in the way the Faeries pronounced it. Finbar was Human. He was positive. He would have seen if he was a Faerie surely. “How do you know me? Tell me!”

Finbar coughed once more and then spat a massive glob of phlegm onto the linoleum floor.

“Gross,” Harold observed.

Finbar ignored Harold’s comment and focused on Brendan. “You were left on the doorstep of St. Bart’s Catholic Orphanage fourteen years ago. I was workin’ there at the time.”

“Is that true?” Dmitri asked.

“It could be,” Brendan admitted. “My parents told me the other night that I was adopted. They didn’t tell me where they adopted me from.”

“I was there, sure enough, and I knew there was somethin’ uncanny about ye. I’d had experience of yer kind before.”

Brendan was surprised. “What do you mean? You had contact with Faeries before?”

Finbar’s face became guarded. “Never you mind what I mean. The point is I know where to find what yer lookin’ for. Hid it meself, didn’t I?”

“So tell us where to find it,” Brendan said. “And we’ll leave you in peace. It’s very important.”

“I’m sure it is. But I won’t tell ya where tae find it unless you promise that you’ll do me a good turn in exchange.”

“A good turn. A favour, you mean?” Brendan demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll decide if I can do it.”

“No!” Finbar barked. “You have to promise and that’s it! Or else ye can go and search for your treasure high and low. I’ll not help ye.” Finbar leaned back in the bed and sucked contentedly on his drink, eyes on Brendan all the while, waiting for the boy’s decision.

“I recognize this one from somewhere,” BLT’s voice piped up. She came out of Brendan’s pocket where she’d been hiding. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed in concentration. “He has a strange aura.”

Unlike Dmitri and Harold, Finbar didn’t seem the least bit shocked or surprised by the sudden appearance of BLT. He merely smirked. “Look at that, will ye. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of yer kind.”

“You seem very familiar to me,” BLT said again. “Let me think.”

Brendan had thinking of his own to do. He had no idea what the old man wanted. What if he couldn’t deliver on the promise? Promises seemed to hold a great deal of weight in his new life. He didn’t know what to do.

Sometimes our decisions are made for us. At that moment, all the lights in the room went out. Weak sunlight streamed through the window, but the electrical light failed completely. The heart monitor let out a sickly shriek, then shorted out altogether.

“They’re coming,” BLT whispered.

“Oh, no,” Brendan whispered.

“What’s the matter?” Dmitri asked.

“This is bad,” Brendan said. He felt terror jangling along his nerves.