Godspeed by February Grace Page B

sound. The door closed behind him, and I sat in silence for a long moment as Quinn stared beyond me at the machinery to which I was still directly attached.
    He motioned toward a square metal object that rested on the table beside me. At the sight of it my nerves became raw, my first thoughts possessed of morbid curiosity as to just what fresh Hell this latest contraption would inflict upon my body.
    Before he could speak again, my heart sped up. Snatched away by fear, my breath deserted me. The room began to spin, and I slumped backward.
    Bells tolled a now familiar warning as Quinn leapt toward the controls; my heart had again abandoned its proper pace. It skipped, stuttered, and seemed to charge forward and attempt to beat backward, all at once. He cursed under his breath. His eyes grew cold and his expression turned to stone once more as he reached out to grasp hold of the switch I had learned most, by now, to hate.
    “I am sorry,” he said, as he had so many times before. He closed his eyes for an instant to try to conceal from me the frustration that was so clearly evident in them. Then he focused upon the panel again and with one swift motion, flipped the lever up.
    The charge in the frightful machinery began to build and I could feel the energy snapping and pinging all around me. My skin seemed charged with unnatural power. Every hair stood on end.
    My body jerked and after three such charges, the bells stopped. Quinn analyzed the readings, mopped at beads of sweat on his brow with the back of his hand, and sighed. I knew that meant my heart had again agreed, if only momentarily, to continue beating on.
    I took note that the shocks were not quite as painful now — or perhaps, I thought, I was just growing accustomed to the agony. Even so, tears I could not prevent spilled from the corners of my eyes and I looked away, trying to hide them despite the futility of the effort.
    Quinn pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed gently at my eyes before placing the cloth between my shaking fingers.
    “I will get you past this,” he whispered. “I give you my word.”
    I nodded, though even with my faith in his genius, it was becoming more and more difficult to believe.
    “I was about to explain what I have done, and what it is doing to you,” he said, as he pulled a tall stool up beside the table and wearily slumped down upon it. “Are you ready to know?”
    I did not know if anyone could ever be ready to receive such information, still I tried to answer as politely as I could. “Please.”
    “You have been connected, as I am certain you now realize, to machinery that has been working to regulate the cadence of your heartbeat,” he began, gesturing toward the wires on my chest but not touching them. “As I suspected, the problem with your heart is electrical in nature and so when it forgets how it is meant to beat, it needs a jolt of power to remind it. These shocks have allowed me to keep you alive thus far. However…” His face went from infuriatingly unreadable to a deeply serious expression, and as his eyes pierced my own, I felt my breath stolen away for entirely different reasons than before.
    He was beautiful, by God, and the thoughts which forced themselves into my consciousness when I was this near to him were new, shocking, and more than I could allow myself to imagine. I closed my eyes in the attempt to force them from my mind, but the darkness only served to intensify them. I longed for him to take me into his arms as he had when he'd carried me. I ached even more for him to leave them there — to hold me.
    “We cannot continue to deliver bursts of such strong energy, or we will be doing as much harm as good. So I have crafted a device, heavy, cumbersome though it is, that will allow you at least a little movement and afford me a lot more control over the corrective charges your heart routinely requires. It is an improvement fromyour current state, and will free you from all this.”