Pleasant, clean sheets. A bed. A fire burning near. Alex Mittleman opened his eyes. He tried to speak, but nothing came out except a croaking noise. “Here, here, son. Water, take a sip.” Alex looked into the eyes of a total stranger. He blinked and accepted sips of water. He was parched, desperately parched. “Slowly, boy. Slowly. Take it easy now.” Alex nodded, and though he longed to inhale the water, he sipped. His jaw hurt. Everything hurt. His vision seemed clouded. “You’re lucky to be alive,” the stranger said. He nodded, then frowned, confused. “I’m Dr. Morton,” the stranger said. “Do you remember? You were bitten by an asp, an Egyptian cobra, at the museum.” Alex nodded slowly. He swallowed, signaling an entreaty for another sip of water. Then, he asked, “Where am I?” “Carlyle Castle.” His body gave an involuntary spasm. His frown deepened. “Camille…I thought…I spoke, I saw her, saw her face.” “She was here, son. Earlier. She stayed awake with you for hours, cooling your brow, keeping your fever down.
