At Your Service

Chapter 1- Beep

    Beep. Two beats of silence. Beep. Another two beats. The rhythm of the beeping on the cardiac monitor, the only sound in the room, was steady and calm as the one to whom the beating of the heart was connected was sleeping in the hospital bed.

The one whose heartbeat blipped on the monitor was Anja Vandiver. Though she slept with a generally peaceful expression, only blemished with a small scowl, she had just experienced more trauma than most people could ever experience in one lifetime, but this was what came with life as a powerful, famous witch. She breathed through her nose, allowing the air coming from the oxygen concentrator through the tubes to do its job. Her lungs were damaged from smoke inhalation, which she'd almost died from.

    In her sleep, which was light at this time, she had not realized she had tipped over due to the numbness of her skin as provided by the medications, but she had fallen over at the waist. She only realized it when a gloved hand rested on each of her shoulders and propped her back upright. One hand firmly gripped her shoulder and held her there for a moment before the other hand returned. She felt a body sit carefully on the bed beside her, then a hairbrush starting to run gently through the long part of her undercut, platinum blonde, straight, and reaching her elbows; the shaved part was buzzed to an eighth of an inch and light brown, her natural colour. She heard a long sigh through the person's nose.

Anja was beginning to become more conscious, as indicated by the cardiac monitor, but it became obvious when she took a long breath in through her nose, but her lungs weren't ready for such a big breath, which caused burning and spasming. Anja fell into a coughing fit, wheezing and gasping, unable to bring in a breath in and keep it.

"Oh, dear," a low, male voice, dark and smooth like velvet, sighed, almost sounding falsely concerned and a little disappointed. A button was pressed, and two nurses rushed into the room. The weight on the bed vanished. Anja opened her eyes as the two nurses propped her up and gave her instructions on how to get her breath back. They gave her a couple of puffs from an inhaler, and she was fine again in a couple of minutes; however, her throat and chest continued to burn.

Of course, it was an entirely different kind of burning she'd been nearly engulfed in less than a day ago.

"All right, Anja, we're just gonna lay you back down now." They rested her back and head against the pillows again. Anja stared at the nurse standing at the foot of the bed while the other checked the oxygen. "The doctor will be here to check your bandages, introduce you to your prosthetics, and discuss therapy." Anja nodded as her heavy, heterochromatic eyes drooped a little, her eyelashes narrowing her vision. "If you need anything, you know who to talk to." Anja didn't quite understand her meaning, but she didn't have the voice to ask who she was referring to, but the answer, though creating more questions, was revealed as she walked out of the room with the other nurse. A man was sitting in a chair along the wall, appearing to be there for her. He had thick, pitch black hair running in straight strands that almost reached his shoulders. Deep russet eyes peered through reading glasses down at a book in his lap.

Anja's voice only croaked when she tried to talk and ask who he was and why he was there outside of visiting hours. "I strongly suggest against using your voice until it is properly healed, my Lady." This man was the owner of the voice from before. A gloved hand flicked to the next page of the book. A small grin curled the man's lips. "The smoke and the screaming did not fare well for your vocal cords, you see." He looked up, and his glasses flashed as they reflected the light from the lamp shining down on Anja from above her bed. "I am Carlisle Lomen, your new butler, at your service." He placed a hand over his sternum and bowed at the waist.

The witch nodded with understanding, but she didn't understand at all. She watched with tired eyes as the man stood. His form was taller than six feet and lean. "Your parents and I made arrangements for if an emergency such as this one should arise." This was news to the witch. He walked over with his book in one hand and a hairbrush in the other and sat down on the edge of the bed as he had done before. He set the book down on the bed before starting to run the brush through her hair again. "I am... terribly sorry for your loss." His voice had softened a little with melancholy.

Once he decided her hair was thoroughly brushed, he pinched a hair tie between his teeth and tugged it off his wrist without taking his gloves off. He set his hands on her shoulders again and propped her upright as he stood briefly before sitting down on the bed behind her, his long legs draped over the side of the bed. He took the hair tie out of his mouth and rested it on his thigh as he started gathering her hair up in his hands, his touch gentle and smooth. "Your parents were of the highest caliber, strongly respected and powerful in the witch community. I have nothing but faith in your own abilities. I am sure you will surpass the expectations kept for the sole remaining Vandiver." She flinched a little as the butler's fingers accidentally tugged on her cannula. "My sincerest apologies, madam." She scowled as she felt his gloved fingers comb through hair before beginning to tie it. He moved to sit next to her again, but facing her as he did before, when he finished tying her hair in a ponytail.

Anja pointed to the breast pocket of his coat. "Hmm?" Carlisle raised his eyebrow as he looked down to see the pen and tiny notepad in it before slipping both out and handing them to her. He watched as she clicked the pen with her thumb and wrote in small, neat, slanted script.

I'm assuming the amputations went well?

    The butler's expression softened, a little grin playing with his lips, while he watched her write this. "There were no complications, though you may feel phantom sensations... which are completely normal." Anja nodded and looked out the window before tapping the back of her hand with two fingers. Because both of her wrists were bandaged, she couldn't tap those to ask for the time. "The sun hasn't even risen yet. It's been a little less than twenty-four hours. They will most likely discharge you tomorrow once they make sure your burns will heal all right." He grinned. "I am looking forward to serving you, Anja." A weak smile formed on her cracked lips as she wrote.

    Thank you, Carlisle. I am excited to know you better.

    The butler's grin widened into a smile that exposed pristine white teeth, the canines slightly sharper than the average person's. "The same for you, madam." He brushed a long piece of hair that hadn't made it into the bun behind her ear with a few gloved fingers, their tips brushing along her cheek but avoiding the nasal cannula.

    The door suddenly opened and a doctor came in followed by a nurse pushing a cart with two prosthetics on them. Carlisle stood and walked smoothly back over to his seat with his book in hand.

"Good morning, Miss Vandiver!" the doctor exclaimed in a way too cheerful for that time of morning; if it had been less that twenty-four hours since the incident, it was probably only about two in the morning. He left the nurse and the cart to walk over and sit where Carlisle had been seated. "How are you feeling?" Anja shrugged. "Yes, don't talk yet. Your vocal cords and lungs are a little scorched from the smoke inhalation." The witch nodded, already aware. "Let's take a look at the burns on your wrists, yeah?" Anja nodded again, so the doctor began carefully unwrapping the bandages from her right wrist. "They're only second degree, but they'll still leave scars... they're from the chains."

Carlisle raised his eyebrows as he saw the burns on the witch's wrists. The exact impressions of the chains, which had been used to restrain Anja to a chair, were burned into her skin where they touched, as if the ghosts of the links still remained. Anja's eyes began tearing up, both from the pain and from the resurfacing memory of the events. The doctor did the same with the left wrist after putting new ointment and bandages on the first wrist. "Like I said: they'll scar, but they'll heal just fine."

The doctor stood and walked over to the cart, where the nurse had been waiting patiently. "Now, these, Miss Vandiver, are your prosthetics."