Thornley preferred illnesses of the mind over those of the body, perhaps thanks to his hunger to take on a challenge. How he dealt with the screams, though—
“There is someone standing over there,” Matilda’s hushed voice interrupted my thoughts. Her fingers wrapped around my arm. “There, under that ash tree.”
I followed her gaze and saw the shadowy figure, too. A woman in a black cloak stood beneath the branches, her face hidden under a hood. This was not traditional attire for a lady who found herself on the streets of Dublin, whether her business was legitimate or nefarious. I did not get the impression she was a lady of the night, for they tended to remain in the trafficked quarters of the city. The hospital grounds were deserted; we had observed no other soul since arriving.
“Nanna Ellen?” said Matilda.
Even though the cloak obscured much of her face, I was certain this was not Nanna Ellen. I could see only the mouth and chin, a little bit of the nose—her eyes were lost in the gloom of the hood. Her skin seemed to feed on the moonlight, absorbing the rays and creating a soft glow over her otherwise masked features.
“It’s not Ellen,” I replied, standing away from the bench. “She’s far too short.”
Matilda had risen with me, her grip tightening on my arm. I peeled away her hand. “Wait here.”
But she was shaking her head. “You mustn’t.”
“I’ll only be a moment.”
I started towards the ash tree, towards the woman. She remained steadfast, her arms at her sides. I found it curious I could barely see her, even as I closed the distance between us. My night vision had improved substantially in the years since Ellen healed me. I could make out every grain of gravel paving the path, I could read signs marking the River Liffey, yet I could not seem to lock my gaze on this woman. Or was it a girl? Even a child? As I neared, I got the distinct impression she was younger than I first thought. Each time I honed in on a particular feature, she appeared to slip farther into the night, even disappearing from view. She accomplished this feat without moving; in fact, she had not moved at all since we first spotted her. Instead, the shadows engulfed her.
“Who are you?” I finally found the courage to say. Though she was at least fifty feet away from me, I was certain she heard me. When her lips parted, her teeth caught the moonlight—the brightest of whites, nearly incandescent.
“Bram!”
The whisper came from behind me, and I spun on my heel to find Thornley standing at Matilda’s side. When I turned back around, the person was gone. I frantically looked up and down the street and across the lawns, but there was no sign of her. I gave Thornley and Matilda a frustrated wave, then quickly circled the tree, thinking perhaps she had hidden on the other side of the trunk, but I found nothing. The air around the tree felt cold where she had stood, cold and thick like an icy fog rolling in off the harbor.
“Bram, we must hurry!” Thornley urged, doing his best to not raise his voice and attract unwanted attention.
I raced back to them.
Matilda asked, “Who was it?”
“I don’t know. I lost sight of her.”
“Who?” Thornley questioned.
I nodded back towards the ash. “There was a girl standing near that tree.”
“At this hour?”
“She didn’t say a word, just stood there, watching us.”
“Perhaps a nurse from the hospital? Many of the staff walk the grounds to clear their heads,” Thornley explained.
“This was no nurse,” Matilda said.
“You cannot be certain of that.”
“It was Ellen,” Matilda insisted.
I shook my head. “It wasn’t Ellen. She was too young.”
Thornley eyed the building behind us. “We need to hurry,” he repeated. “The staff changes shifts at midnight. Follow me—”
Thornley led us down a narrow gravel sidewalk to the south entrance of Dr. Steevens’ Hospital. The gas lamp positioned to light the small alcove either had not been