Everything is blurry when I try to open my eyes. It makes me dizzy, so I close them again. With them closed, however, motes of light dance across the blackness of my eyelids. This is even worse, so I open them once more and then blink a few times, hoping it will help. Thankfully, the sleepy haze starts to clear. I am lying on my back, and it feels like I am on my couch. Voices near me are speaking in low, harsh tones, like stage whispers. I flex my hands a few times, and I try to listen in before I get up.
“–is all your fault. You wizards have never had any accountability.” That would be my mom.
“I understand your frustrations, Cordelia. My apologies–Amara. Yes, we have had our own internal struggles at the guild. I thought this was just a misunderstanding, but now it appears that there is more than just foul play at work here,” Olvira says.
She keeps calling her those names and I don't understand why. My mom's name is Laura.
“May I interj–” I hear Vithar's voice.
“Your 'guilds' are always thinking they know what's best. They don't even protect people anymore. They just play the part of the clean-up crew after something happens.”
“Ma'am, if I could–” he tries to cut in again.
“Oh how ridiculous. Of course we can only clean up. We don't have the ability of precognition, no matter how deep we delve into divination. Clearly there are more important things going on than your petty irritations with the guild.”
“Petty?! I'll show–”
“Okay,” I say. It comes out quieter than I intend, but the conversation stops. It needed to be defused before another fight started.
Vithar speaks up.
“Mikael is awake is what I was trying to say,” he says.
Someone lays a cold washcloth across my forehead, and I flinch back and look up at the unexpected contact. Anna is crouched above my head, leaning over the arm of the couch.
“Sorry, was that too cold?” she asks.
I didn't think she would still be here. She took off after I told her to run, and I assumed she would never be back.
“It's… fine, just unexpected,” I say in response, still looking up at her. She hands me the washcloth instead. I take it while attempting to sit up. My head pounds for a few moments once I'm upright, but it fades after my equilibrium adjusts. I rub my face with the washcloth and the cold feels good against my hot skin.
“What happened?” I ask while rubbing my head. The two wizards look at my mom, then back at me.
“I had to put you to sleep,” she says, “You said you couldn't stop your nullification and it was causing… complications with certain spells.”
“You did that? Man, that was the most restful sleep I think I've ever had. Do you think you could put that in pill form? I'm sure you'd make a killing.”
Mom and Olvira return my stare with blank faces, but Anna snorts in laughter and I glance at her and smile. Everyone's a critic.
I have never been put to sleep magically before. Sure, I have had my consciousness stolen from my body by my father. I have definitely passed out due to massive injuries and I've even been knocked out by demons. But this one was a new experience.
I gaze at the trio standing over me, noticing that Olvira and Mom are both looking younger again. The realization that my void was canceling their life extending magic hits me like a ton of bricks. It creates so many personal questions that I want to ask Mom but, unfortunately, that is going to have to wait until we are alone.
If my void was nullifying all magic though, how did she put me to sleep? That has me stumped, so I ask her. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?” Mom asks.
“If my void was canceling all the magic, how did you manage to use magic to put me to sleep?”
Mom's eyes dart conspiratorially between Vithar and Olvira. The wizards move away, talking quietly between themselves. “I had to use the blood in your body. It was painless, I promise. But we had to stop it.”
“You used the blood inside my body?”
“Yes, it was a risky move, and I'm sorry. You probably felt it in your chest.”
“So that's what that was? Wow. That . . . is so metal,” I say, truly impressed.
I turn to face Anna, who is now sitting on the arm of the couch. “I thought you ran.”
“I did,” she says. “But I still have a lot of questions, and the danger seemed like it was over,” She shrugs.
“That's fair.”
The wizard duo's conversation has gotten louder, and the three of us focus our attention on them when we hear Vithar yell.
“No, I don't want to come back! When we started, we took an oath. It seems like that oath isn't being upheld, and I will find my own path.”
Olvira notices the rest of us watching and blanches.
“I understand, Vithar. But this should show that we need more people like you, not fewer,” she pleads.
“Trying to excise the rot from inside is admirable, but it often leads to corruption instead of change. Look at the world we live in. Politics, police, the rich, insiders, brotherhoods, they are all a testament to people with good intentions turning to what's easier instead of what is right. I will not return, ma'am. That is my final say.”
Olvira sighs and looks down, shaking her head.
“I hear you. I want you to know that you were a favored student of mine, and I hope you continue to do great things with your abilities. Please don't lose what makes you shine,” she says. She looks at us and smiles weakly, “Mikael, for what part the guild had in this, you have my sincerest apologies. It appears I have some rot to excise,” she says, glancing back at Vithar then at Anna. “Ms. Romero, I apologize to you as well, and I hope you continue to be well. I wish you all good luck in your journeys.”
Anna and I both wave. Mom doesn't even acknowledge her departure, and Vithar does a kind of chest touch salute to her, which she returns. She walks through the door, closing it behind her. I wait until I am sure she left before I ask my more serious questions.
“Vithar, what the hell happened with those wizards?” I ask.
“I know, right? I've never seen anything like that.”
It takes Vithar a second to realize everyone is waiting for a better explanation. “I asked. Archwizard Du–er, Olvira.” He corrects himself, using her name instead of the title of her station as his superior. “I asked her what they did, and she said that power was not their own. It was demonic in nature, like they were branded by a demon.”
I get goosebumps at the statement. A demonic domination of wizards?
“Like an enchantment? Were they being controlled? Were they aware of their actions?”
“Very aware, unfortunately. There was no way they could have accessed that much of their own power had they not given it of their own free will.”
This is dangerous. Not dominated, but bad wizards working with bad demons? I have heard from Eph that it has been done before. If the demons have infiltrated the guild, those three are probably not the only wizards working with them.
“It's just one damned thing after another,” I say. There is so much going on right now that I can't get into what that could mean. I have to focus on the Hellhound and await the return of the Shark-headed demon. It's too much.
Vithar smiles awkwardly and nods. “It seems that way.”
My cheeks puff as I blow out a breath. Anna clears her throat, drawing my attention to her. She has been so quiet that I keep forgetting she is here.
“Hey, I'm sorry. How are you doing?” I ask.
“Still just taking all of this in,” she says with a shrug.
“I can imagine it's hard to do when it's happening as fast as it is.”
“Yeah. Yeah it has been. But it's also hard dealing with Brad right now.”
Brad.
I'd forgotten about him completely. “How's he doing?” I ask.
“That's actually where I went after I ran around your house,” she replies, looking down at the floor. “He's fine. Awake, but confused. He knows something's off. With me, I mean. And I . . . I wasn't the most comforting, and I know myself–it's only going to get worse. Knowing we were together because that stuff in my head was messing with my judgment–it makes me feel . . . wronged. I know it's not his fault but, it's . . .” she trails off.
“I'm sorry,” I say. “Do you have somewhere else you need to be?” She furrows her brow at me. Her face takes on an 'excuse me?' expression. “No, I don't mean that you need to leave or anything. I'm genuinely asking,” I say, and her expression softens.
“Actually,” she says, patting her pockets. “I do. What time is it?”
“Good question. I wasn't out for a day or anything, was I?” That had happened last year. I lost many days during healing and passing out from pain. Losing time is nothing new to me, unfortunately.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“No,” Mom interjects, “It's still today.”
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“My phone. I think I . . . “
“You lost your phone, remember? Before you got in the ambulance?”
“Right,” she says. “Ugh, I need to get a new one.”
I would actually prefer she didn't. I may be being selfish again, but I still need to follow that thread and figure out who has her phone.
“I have a burner you can borrow until we find your other one. Buying a new phone seems like an unnecessary hassle at the moment.”
She looks at me quizzically. “You just have phones lying around?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I burn them a lot.”
“Is that supposed to make sense,” she asks.
“Yes, when I transform, everything I'm wearing burns away,” I say.
“Oh. Right. Are you sure you can spare one?”
“Yeah, no trouble at all.”
“Well, thanks. Anyway, I think I'm supposed to have a therapy session today,” she says.
That's right–Though I doubt they would, I wanted to check out her therapist to see if they would give me a good reason for enabling all the clear signs of mental distress that Anna had been going through. I don't have a degree or anything, but I am pretty sure that normalizing losing time and suspension of reality to that extent isn't always the best practice. I also have some suspicions that there may be a connection between the therapy and reapplication of the mind affecting magic.
“I was going to call and cancel.”
“Oh yeah, your therapist. What is their name?” I ask.
“Dr. Nate-lee,” she says, pronouncing the name oddly. “He came highly recommended by . . . Hm, I forget who. It seemed helpful at first, but now I'm not sure if it was. He just kept telling me that everything was normal and stuff.”
“Do you think you should still go?” I ask.
She tilts her head confusedly. “Why?”
“Curiosity?” I say with a shrug, “Just to see what they say now that you're hopefully done with those issues? And, I understand this is an odd question, but would you care if I tag along? I don't have to stay or anything but I–”
“No, I don't mind,” she says. “I can ask you some more questions in the car.”
Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.
“Brad usually went with me because Dr. Nate-lee kinda gives me creepy vibes. I think I should probably stop going soon, though. Especially if this is really done. I think it'll be easier to schedule an ending session if someone is with me.”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” I say. “I gotta change. How much time do you have before you need to go?”
“Oh, we've still got some time.”
“Cool, mind if I drive?” I ask.
She snorts. “I think I can drive my own car.”
“I meant we could take mine?”
Her eyes get big, and she looks at Mom and Vithar. “You guys didn't tell him?”
“There wasn't time.” Vithar says.
I sigh loudly. “What now?”
Both of them look at Vithar, who rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “That magma bomb that you stopped–it spread out at an alarming rate before you were able to disperse it.”
“ . . . and?” I ask.
“And, it took out a good portion of your car. It melted a large chunk of the back end.”
I put my hands to my temples and try to rub away the tension headache that is starting to creep in. It's a pointless endeavor–it’s here to stay. The couch creaks at the release of my weight when I stand. I don't want to, but I have to survey the damage. I walk outside, noting that the front door looks better than it has in a long time, since Olvira mended it. It is still unusually hot outside for the time of year–and the lawn is the source of it. The yard and some of my driveway are screwed–a mess of scored concrete and blackened grass from where the lava magic spread.
The damage to my car is probably irrevocable without magical intervention. The zone where the burn marks spread has three humanoid shaped craters a few inches into the ground–the epicenter of the wild magic that exploded from the wizards. Images of them burning to ash remind me of Christine and I force them away.
“Hey, Mike,” my neighbor calls from his yard. He's a short pudgy guy with a mustache and horseshoe hair around the balding top of his head. He's staring at my yard too. “What the heck happened?” he asks, putting his palms out.
“Halloween decorations. It got away from me, and I think I took it just a step too far,” I say with a shrug. “Only a small fire.”
He stares at the body marks on the lawn.
“It’s November.”
“Right, I meant Christmas. I lost three Santa decorations.” I say, looking at the body marks as well. “It was quite the little blaze.”
“Yeah, I'd say so,” he says, and he ambles up the steps to his house, muttering under his breath. I can see him glancing at me from his periphery as he walks inside. Luckily, from his point of view, he could only see the part of my car that wasn't melted. I either have to see if this can be fixed by the two casters in my house or get it moved further up the drive so no one from the street gets curious. Anna steps up beside me, and surveys the damage the magic did to my stuff.
“So, yeah,” I say, “I suppose we'll take your car.”
“Sorry,” she says.
I come back downstairs after scrubbing the soot off my feet and getting dressed for the meeting. When I see her, I toss Anna an aptly named burner phone. She is sitting alone on the couch and grasps for the phone twice before catching it.
“You really just have these at the ready?”
“Yeah, I buy them in bulk,” I joke, but honestly I try not to think about how much money I spend on just replacing my stuff after a burn.
“Do people look at you like you're some kind of dealer?” she asks.
“Probably,” I say with a shrug and scan the room.
She notices me looking around for the others and sits up, slipping the phone into her pocket.
“They went to try to work on your car,” she says.
I had 'asked' them if they could do something when I stomped through the house on my way to wash off. It was more of a passive aggressive whining and complaining tirade out loud about it when I was walking past them, but hey, I am upset.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
We leave the house and get into her car to go meet with her therapist. I can read very nervous energy from her aura. She glances at me sidelong multiple times and shifts in her seat. I can see her mouth trying to form words like she wants to talk about something but seems unsure how I'll react.
“I know you've still got a lot of questions,” I say, my attention on the passing houses out the window. “You can ask me whatever you need to.”
She sighs and the tension I feel from her lessens–not completely, but my comment did ease it. Now that she knows about the supernatural world, it makes sense that she is curious. It's probably not the best time for her to grill me. But I recognize that it's not her fault, so I tell myself to answer politely. Plus, it might help to take my mind off of everything.
“So, half-demon.” It's not a question, it is a statement of fact.
“Yeah.”
“Are you and it…friends?”
“He, and no, not really,” I say. “Unlikely allies in a sense?”
“Hm. Is the relationship like a Venom symbiote type of thing, or a Dexter's dark passenger type thing?” she asks.
I think about it before responding.
“Neither? I mean, the symbiote is close-ish, but it's not a foreign entity. It's more like a Two-Face relationship, but no coin flipping. He's always been there. We are two minds that just happen to share a body. Like for every decision you make, there's a quiet voice inside that wants to make a different decision. It's like that but, in my case, the other voice is much louder. We just think differently. It took me a while to come to terms with it.”
She sits with the information while driving. It gives me time to cool off, but nearly ten minutes pass with the silence growing until she asks another question.
“Does it hurt?”
I assume she means when I burn. I have to answer this one carefully. In most cases, no. But her sister had it rough, so she has to know my experience is not the only experience.
“It doesn't hurt me, no. There are certain human and demon combinations that are . . . incompatible in the long term. So I guess my answer would be, not usually? Not for most of us anyway.”
“What about Chrissy's?”
I was hoping she wouldn't ask. There isn't a delicate way to put it, so I don't try.
“Hers was one of the worst, if not the worst, combination I've ever seen. Possibly the worst I've ever even heard of,” I say bluntly. I don't think it would be right to sugarcoat this.
“How bad was it?”
“Do you really want to know?” I ask.
She stares at the road for a minute. “Yeah,” she says, sounding confident.
“I told you some of it, but I can give more detail. She had crazy awesome abilities, but the drawback was hunger.”
“Hunger for what?”
“Her demon apparently needed life energy and was insatiable. Since she couldn't supply enough, it ate her lifeforce until she was just a husk. That's really all there was to it. It never would have been enough. As soon as she embraced her demon, the clock started ticking. I'm sorry to put it that way, but that's the only way I can describe it.”
There's another long silence. I glance at her and see a tear sliding down her cheek while she stares pointedly at the road. She wipes it away before asking another question.
“What does yours do?”
I engage with this question more, hoping hearing about me and my experience will distract her from thinking of her sister's suffering. “At first, it was little things. Like microaggressions here and there that would bleed through. They were primarily focused against humans. I would start to think of them as less than myself in terms of worth. Then it turned into the desire to burn. After that, I started to want to watch the whole world burn. I was using a lot and it was eroding my willpower–what makes me, me. When I tried ignoring him is when I noticed what was happening. He had a foot firmly planted in the door and his influence on my actions was becoming harder to resist. I would sometimes lose control of myself and act on his impulses. A friend my mom introduced me to helped me lock him down. I did this more and more and eventually he went into a . . . like a cryogenic sleep? But last year, he woke up, and we fought each other for control. Right now we have a sort of agreement.”
“Do you really, like, talk?”
It’s a little annoying, but she probably wants more information about how her sister dealt with her demon. Not that I know if this will help.
My demon grumbles unintelligibly.
“Yes, we do.”
“How? Is he talking to you right now?”
“He just did. He's kind of annoyed by your questions.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be, he's just like that. Anyway, we talk in a sort of neutral headspace. It's a place neither of us have control in and we can speak freely.”
She seems mollified by the answers I give, and I ask how she's feeling. The conversation turns into us making small talk about what it is like for her to experience real magic for the first time. We talk about what happens next. I don't have a lot of answers for that, so I simply try to reassure her until she pulls into a parking spot in front of a building. I peer at it, slightly confused.
“We're here,” she says, and I turn to her with the same amount of confusion.
“Here? Anna, what do you see here?”