The cabbie honked once. “That do it for you?”

April rolled down the window and strained to look down the street. “Might be construction on the bridge.”

“Maybe.”

“This is taking too long,” she said. “Just let me out here.” She shoved a wad of bills through the window divider.

“Do I still get my extra twenty?”

“Yes,” April said, climbing out. “But only because I saw the picture of your wife and kids on the dashboard.”

“Actually, that’s my—yes, thank you! They will be so happy!”

April slammed the door and dashed to the sidewalk, then started running as best she could with the hand and the bulky old book.

Several minutes later she entered the emergency entrance, becoming hyperaware of her dirty clothes, matted hair, and smeared makeup in the bright neon lights of the lobby. She was about to apologize to the woman behind the check-in counter when the woman spoke, completely unfazed by April’s battered state.

“It’s about a thirty-minute wait,” she said, handing April a clipboard.

“I’m here to see a friend,” April said, handing the clipboard back to her. “Dr. Winter?”

April got his room number and dashed toward the elevators. She stepped inside, finding herself between two rather handsome doctors.

“Did someone help you already?” one of them asked as the doors closed.

“Yes,” April said. “I’m fine.”

“Are you hurt?” the other doctor asked, pointing to the blood-spattered cup in her hands.

“It’s . . . um . . . a cherry Slurpee,” she said. “I spilled a little.”

The doors opened and she raced out, leaving the confused doctors behind. It only took her a few moments to find Dr. Winter’s door. She pushed it open and was relieved to see that he was lying behind a curtain, giving her an opportunity to place the Gutenberg under a chair by the door.

“Dr. Winter?” she called out.

“Yes?” a voice said.

An electric shiver ran up April’s spine. There was no mistaking the rich baritone of Dr. Winter’s voice, however weakened it was. She wanted to turn and run out the door, but Charlie’s life was at stake. Maybe her mother’s too.

“Are you okay?” April asked. It was a stupid question, thoughtless. Of course he wasn’t okay. He was missing a hand.

“April, is that you?”

“Yes,” she answered, tiptoeing forward. She walked around the edge of the curtain, not quite knowing what she would find. She gasped. Dr. Winter was sitting up in bed, bathed in bandages, which covered his right arm, his midsection, and his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dr. Winter said. “I thought that maybe they got you too.”

“Who?”

“The Order of the Dragon.”

“I thought you were one of them,” she said.

Dr. Winter laughed, then winced, grabbing at his ribs. “No,” he said. “I would never enter the ranks of such vileness.”

“Then are you an Orphan?”

“How do you know about the Orphans?”

“I was kidnapped by some men who thought I was one.”