—15—
Nightmares later, Eduard swam back to consciousness. Light fell through his slitted eyelids and into his weary, old-woman’s eyes. His brain couldn’t think. Cottony clouds in his mind surrounded every word, every memory. His body was now one constant scream of pain, louder than ever before.
How he longed for his own body back.
He managed to focus on the tubes and electronic monitors hooked up to him, then people standing at his bedside. His discomfort ranged from low moans in his arms and muscles, to a shout where the open chest wound had been sutured back together. His heart felt different. Repaired, yes—but battered into submission, not as good as new.
Then he recognized his home-body pacing at the foot of the bed … and a dark uniform at the back of the room. One of the Beetles, an Inspector, a man with black hair and almond eyes. Daragon!
Eduard’s throat was dry, his vocal cords raspy and uncooperative from the heavy anesthetic as well as the weariness of Ruxton’s innumerable years. “What … why are you here?” They hadn’t seen each other in a long time.
“Just keeping an eye on my friends.” Daragon smiled down at him, resplendent in his BTL regalia. “COM found your name on this contract when the records were filed, and I just wanted to make sure nothing … accidentally happened during your surgery.” He glanced over at the crowd of lawyers, family members.
“Am I … was the surgery successful?” Eduard tried to raise himself up, but his arms felt like wet balsa wood. In his own body, Madame Ruxton stood with shoulders thrown back, arrogant head held high.
Daragon bent closer. “Oh, yes. I spoke to the doctors immediately before they operated on you. We encouraged them to make sure you pulled through.” He looked once more at the Ruxton cadre, all of whom regarded him warily in return. “I’m confident your recovery will be a swift one.”
“Thank you, Daragon,” Eduard rasped through the old woman’s wattled throat. “It’s good to see you again.”
On the day the doctors said Eduard was strong enough to sit in a hoverchair, Daragon returned to push him out of the room. He brought seven impressive-looking BTL officers with him. Forming a grim protective barrier, the Beetles escorted him down the corridors to where Ruxton’s lawyers waited.
The old woman’s attorneys already had more documents drawn up, but Daragon opened the conversation by saying, “It has been four weeks, as stipulated in his contract. The doctors expect a full and complete recovery. Eduard has done his part.”
“I’m afraid my body’s not yet entirely recovered,” Madame Ruxton said, sitting imperiously in Eduard’s form, drinking sweetened tea. In his hoverchair, Eduard wrinkled his nose. Personally, he despised sweetened tea.
One of the lawyers held forth a document. “We have here depositions from the medical professionals who have inspected the body. It still has severe liver problems, as well as the potential for total kidney failure within the next year. The pulmonary system remains at greatly diminished capacity.”
Another attorney shuffled papers, found the original contract. “Mr. Swan signed a contract that specifically requires him to remain in Madame Ruxton’s former body until full recovery.” The man gestured with a clean, manicured hand. “I’m afraid that what we have here is not ‘full recovery,’ by any stretch of the imagination.”
Another smiling attorney looked at Daragon and the other Beetles, pretending not to be intimidated. “Several times we suggested that Eduard obtain his own legal counsel, but he refused.”
Eduard felt cold inside, wondering if Ruxton’s cronies had managed to outwit him. He had blustered through with arrogance and misguided pride. If the words in the contract did indeed require “full recovery,” then he was lost. He had been trapped by his own naiveté. “I guess that was stupid,” he muttered.
“Yes, Eduard,” Daragon said. “I believe it was.” He calmly turned toward the lawyer. “That’s not acceptable, obviously beyond the intent of the original contract.” The Beetles drew together around him, flanking Eduard in the hoverchair.
Ruxton’s lawyers crossed their arms over their chests in unison, as if it were some sort of choreographed act. “We have the resources to tie this up in litigation for years, if necessary. Either way, Madame Ruxton will win.”
“And the BTL has the power to impound all of Madame Ruxton’s assets in anticipation of our eventual victory. I can cite numerous precedents,” Daragon countered, remembering everything Mordecai Ob had taught him. “You’ll swap back now.”
Eduard didn’t have the strength to move or even speak for himself. Daragon nudged the floating life-support chair forward. Madame Ruxton didn’t move.
Daragon withdrew a spray vial from a pouch at his belt. “You’ve heard of Scramble? A drug that breaks down all your barriers and allows someone to swap with you, no matter how much you resist.”
“Yes, I know. The BIE uses it for executions.”
“Or we use it for situations like this.” After a deliberate pause, Daragon smiled at her, still holding the spray vial. “I’m willing to take that action right now. It’ll let Eduard rip your soul right out of his body and put it back where it belongs.”
Finally Madame Ruxton whirled, staring down at her own weakened body in the hoverchair. Her appearance was completely uncharacteristic of Eduard’s usual happy-go-lucky demeanor. “What’ve you paid them? I can double whatever you offered. What kind of pull do you have with the Bureau?”
Eduard just shrugged his bony shoulders.
She snapped at Daragon and all the other Beetles. “I’ll pay you twice what he’s paying you. Right now, in cash.”
“Twice nothing is still nothing.” Daragon’s voice was all the more threatening for its bland tone. “And attempted bribery of a BTL officer is an actionable offense. We have a room full of witnesses. Shall I take you into custody now?”
One of the lawyers leaned close to her. “I’m afraid that was very unwise, Madame Ruxton.”
“If you swap immediately with Eduard, perhaps we can … forget the entire matter.” The other Beetles pressed closer.
Her teeth clenched, her eyes flashing behind Eduard’s familiar face, Ruxton sighed with such vehemence that she spat out her breath. “Oh, very well!”
She leaned down to the hoverchair and touched her own temples. Looking up at her with weak eyes, Eduard felt as if she ripped his consciousness free and slammed it back into his own body.
The real Madame Ruxton sulked back into her hoverchair-bound form.
Eduard reeled, disoriented to be young and healthy and energetic again. Each breath seemed like liquid honey in his lungs. His muscles tingled, so alive again.
The attorneys nudged the old woman’s life-support chair away as her family members followed, simpering … perhaps even delighted at what had happened, now that their inheritance was one step closer again. The lawyers tried to make excuses as Madame Ruxton railed at them.
Daragon gestured for the other Beetles to leave him with Eduard. Once they were alone, though, Daragon’s stony face tightened into a scowl, then a wry half smile. “That wasn’t the brightest thing you’ve ever done, Eduard.”
Eduard did not even try to excuse his mistake; he hung his head with an abashed smile. “I assumed I knew what could happen, but I didn’t imagine half of the contingencies. Guess I was clueless.”
“You were out of your league. Far beyond anything you ever learned from the Splinters. You’re not living in a monastery anymore, and the real world is not like the Falling Leaves.”
“I know that. Too well.” Eduard sighed, but his healthy body felt so good he could not remain dejected for long. A goofy grin crossed his face. “I’m glad I could count on you.” He playfully punched Daragon on the shoulder, unable to contain his relief and his energy. “It’s so good to see you again!”
Daragon frowned with an almost motherly concern for his estranged friend. “I’ve been gone a year, Eduard, but I’ve tried to keep tabs on you and Garth and Teresa. You worry me the most, though—as usual. Impulsive, cocky, reckless. Is this really the way you want to live?”
Eduard drew a deep breath, unable to stop grinning. He traced a finger over the ghost pain in his chest from where the operation scars had been. “Daragon, you’re all nice and cozy with the Bureau, all your needs taken care of. I’m on my own out here—do you know how much Ruxton paid me for that? I can live for a year on those credits!”
“You almost didn’t live for a day. Her lawyers had already tried to pay off the doctors, even before your surgery.”
Eduard digested that for a moment, experiencing a see-saw of anger, fear, and disgust. “Don’t think I’m not grateful. I owe you one.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “Yeah, I’ll have to be more careful next time.”
“Next time? Are you sure you want to do something like this again?” Daragon just shook his head. “Remember when you told me how you wanted to become a Phantom, how you wanted to live forever?”
Eduard smiled with the recollection. “Still sounds good to me.”
“Risking your life like that Eduard, you can forget immortality—you’ll never make it to twenty-five!”
Eduard rubbed his chest again. His mind still felt twinges of remembered pain. He reached out to hug his friend, but the uniform seemed to be a barrier between them. “Thanks anyway, Daragon. I mean it. Are you going to be able to see us more often now?”
“I’m with the BTL, so you never know when I might be watching.” Daragon said a brief, brusque farewell and left to rejoin the other Beetles.