This man in my arms was James!

I hurled him backwards, hand up to wipe the spilling blood from my lips.

“James!” I roared.

He fell against the side of the bed, eyes dazed, blood trickling onto his collar, one hand flung out against me. “Now don’t be hasty!” he cried in that old familiar cadence of his own, chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his face.

“Damn you into hell,” I roared again, staring at those frenzied glittering eyes in David’s face.

I lunged at him, hearing a sudden spurt from him of desperate crazed laughter, and more slurred and hurried words.

“You fool! It’s Talbot’s body! You don’t want to hurt Talbot’s—”

But it was too late. I tried to stop myself but my hand had closed around his throat, and I’d already flung the body at the wall!

In horror, I saw him slam into the plaster. I saw the blood splatter from the back of his head, and I heard the ugly crunch of the broken wall behind him, and when I reached out to catch him, he fell directly into my arms. In a wide bovine stare he looked at me, his mouth working desperately to make the words come out.

“Look what you’ve done, you fool, you idiot. Look what … look what … ”

“Stay in that body, you little monster!” I said between my clenched teeth. “Keep it alive!”

He was gasping. A thin tiny stream of blood poured out of his nose and down into his mouth. His eyes rolled. I held him up, but his feet were dangling as if he were paralyzed. “You … you fool … call Mother, call her … Mother, Mother, Raglan needs you … Don’t call Sarah. Don’t tell Sarah. Call Mother—” And then, he lost consciousness, head flopping forward as I held him and then laid him down on the bed.

I was frantic. What was I to do! Could I heal his wounds with my blood! No, the wound was inside, in his head, in his brain! Ah, God! The brain. David’s brain!

I grabbed up the telephone, stammered the number of the room and that there was an emergency. A man was badly hurt. A man had fallen. A man had had a stroke! They must get an ambulance for this man at once.

Then I put down the phone and went back to him. David’s face and body lying helplessly there! His eyelids were fluttering, and his left hand opened, and then closed, and opened again. “Mother,” he whispered. “Get Mother. Tell her Raglan needs her … Mother.”

“She’s coming,” I said, “you must wait for her!” Gently, I turned his head to the side. But in truth what did it matter? Let him fly up and out of it if he could! This body wasn’t going to recover! This body could be no fit host to David ever again!

And where the hell was David!

Blood was spreading all over the coverlet of the bed. I bit into my wrist. I let the drops fall on the puncture wounds in the neck. Maybe a few drops on the lips would help somehow. But what could I do about the brain! Oh, God, how could I have done it …