The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(4)

"A mistake," Dr. Wiley said, his cheeks reddening. "Clearly."

"Or was it?" Dr. Hale winked.

Wiley heaved a sigh, as if he'd heard Hale tell the story a dozen times. "This is no joking matter. Does Dr. Ritter know you're speaking to reporters?"

"Bah!" Hale laughed and waved a hand in dismissal. "He'll thank me when he hears of it."

"I doubt it. I seem to recall him forbidding you to mention it publicly."

"Think of the publicity the hospital will receive. In The Times, no less."

"You're walking a thin line, Hale. You have been warned, sir," Wiley said to Matt. "I urge you not to believe a thing he tells you. If you want the real story, ask myself or Dr. Ritter."

"Always scare-mongering," Hale said with a conspiratorial wink at me. "Come, Miss Steele, Mr. Glass, let's begin. You must be itching to know the details."

Dr. Wiley hurried off, shaking his head. He glanced back and quickened his step before disappearing through a door.

Dr. Hale led us into a bare wood-paneled office. He shut a book that lay open on the desk and placed it inside his top drawer. It was the only book in the office, although a bookcase took up an entire wall. Instead of books, however, each shelf contained a row of cream ceramic jars, all labeled in Latin. I recognized the language but lacked the education to read it.

"Dr. Wiley is a trifle embarrassed," Hale said apologetically. "He's the most experienced doctor here, aside from our principal, Dr. Ritter, of course." He sat behind the desk chair and indicated we should sit too. "Dr. Wiley declared the patient deceased and when I brought him back to life, the good doctor almost fainted." Hale laughed. "One of the nurses had to steer him to a vacant bed."

"And was he dead?" Matt asked bluntly.

Dr. Hale regarded Matt then me. "You look startled, Miss Steele. Indeed, you look as if you weren't expecting your colleague to ask that question without preamble."

"Mr. Glass is full of surprises," I said rather lamely. But he was right—I hadn't expected Matt's directness, particularly when Hale could be a link to Chronos. We needed him, but Matt looked as if he wanted to wipe Hale's smirk from his face with his fist. Perhaps it was frustration at coming so close only to find the man we needed was rather obnoxious.

"Dr. Hale, we're very busy, as I'm sure you are too," Matt said. "We'd like to get to the bottom of this mystery as soon as possible. If no miracle was performed then I'm afraid we're wasting our time." He began to rise. "Miss Steele?"

"Wait!" Hale indicated Matt should sit again. "You're not wasting your time. It's just that…I've been warned not to speak of it, you see." He glanced at the door.

"By Dr. Ritter, the principal?"

"And others."

"Why? What are you afraid will happen?"

"It's not me who is afraid of the consequences, Mr. Glass. I'm rather excited about this development, as it happens. It's they who are afraid—Dr. Ritter, Dr. Wiley, and…others." He clasped his hands on the desk and pointed a finger at Matt. "I think you and I are of like mind, Mr. Glass, along with Mr. Barratt, of course."

"The reporter for The Weekly Gazette?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yet even he only alluded to it in his article, despite implying he would tell the truth. He didn't even print my statement."

"Allude to what?" Matt asked.

"Ah." He sat back with a smile too slick to trust. "You want me to say it first, do you? Well then. I suppose I will. Magic, Mr. Glass. It exists, and I am a magician." He spread out his hands like a messiah welcoming his disciples. "Neither of you look surprised."

"We've heard of magic," Matt said. "But few speak openly about it."

"They've been ordered not to."

"As have you, by your own account, and yet you do."

His smile turned smug. "This breakthrough is bigger than Dr. Ritter or anyone else. Bigger than this hospital and the guilds. It can't be swept under the carpet. It should be celebrated. What I did two days ago is a miracle, just like the newspaper claimed. No one has ever brought a dead man back to life."

"But he's not alive," I said. "He's dead."

Hale's smile slipped. "I'll work on extending the magic so that it lasts longer. But it was a solid first step."

"And how will you extend it?" I asked.

Hale's nostrils flared. "I can't give away my secrets. If you print my ideas, another magician might steal them."

I tried to think of a way to incorporate a question about time magic without revealing myself and what we knew but could think of none.

"Was he already dead?" Matt asked. "Or simply on the brink of death?"

Hale laughed. "It depends on whom you ask. Dr. Wiley swears that he was dead, but one of the nurses said she saw his chest rise with a breath."

"And what do you say?"

"In all honesty, I cannot be certain. But it changes nothing. My magic—"

"How can you not be certain?" Matt asked. "You're a physician."

Dr. Hale's smile returned, harder than before. "I didn't check. I know, I know, it was a mistake, but I believed Dr. Wiley without question. He's very experienced."