Chapter 15

Raven woke up groggy, not remembering having gone to sleep. Her eyes drifted open but she saw only darkness. She was cold and had a pounding headache, a low, dull throb that made her dizzy. Her hand tried to rub her head, but she gasped to find her arm was restrained.

Adrenaline rushed through her body as the memories of the mall flooded back. She had been watching Cameron as the beast fuck Holly (in the ass!) when she felt something cold pressing into her back. A man behind her explained he’d shoot if she didn’t start playing along and suck him off. Raven had no choice so she did what she was told. Soon Cameron had gotten pissed off and stopped watching her long enough for the man to stick her with a needle. Now she was here.

She opened her eyes wide, trying to see anything. All was inky blackness except for two or three small green lights off to her right. It looked like they were ten feet away. Whatever machine belonged to the lights was whirring quietly. Otherwise the only sound was the dull roar of a ventilation system. She tried moving her limbs one at a time. Her arms and legs were held with thick leather cuffs pulled tight. From the feeling of bare metal against her skin, she was either naked or hardly clothed. Her protection ring was gone.

Raven started to hyperventilate with panic. She shut her eyes though it did nothing to change her vision. Somehow it helped her calm down and she tried to think of anything she could do. Her mind came up blank, and so she started to cry.

A sudden clang of metal shocked the sobs out of her and Raven opened her eyes as wide as they would go in the direction of the sound, her breathing still heavy but slowing down. A wedge of light appeared on the floor and grew as a door slid open. Cold fluorescent light briefly spilled into the room before a silhouette filled the door frame and flicked a switch. The room became lit with a dim red light.

Raven screamed at the man in the lab coat at the top of her lungs. She swore, she threatened, she begged, but the man carried out his actions as if she weren’t there at all. He was walking around the room, checking various readouts on equipment laid out against the wall. Getting no reaction and growing hoarse, she switched tactics, closing her mouth defiantly and concentrating on committing everything to memory she possibly could.

She was on a gurney in the center of a large room with a long mirror on one side. She had no doubt it was a one-way mirror for observation. Various tubes and wires were attached to her body, applied neatly enough that she didn’t even feel them. Most of the man’s face was obscured by a surgical mask. A doctor of some sort? His eyes were visible behind thick technical glasses with telescopes affixed to them. He was making his way closer to her bed, and after she had calmed down he came nearer.

He reached into a pocket on his lab coat, took out a small metal case, and put in on a table next to her gurney. He flipped it open and withdrew a syringe filled with a shimmering liquid. Raven’s eyes widened, but she forced herself to stay still, jaw clenched tight.

The man ignored her and stabbed her IV bag with the syringe, injecting the liquid. Raven watched helplessly as the substance trickled down the tube toward her arm. A warm, pleasant feeling spread around her arm and to the rest of her body, and soon she was unconscious again.

Cameron vaulted up the back stairs towards Magick Within Reach. He always hoped he’d be the type of person that would run in to a burning building and he was pleased with himself that he was. In his untransformed but magically-altered state he felt more able to bear the heat and smoke. The stairwell was only somewhat choked with smoke and there was no fire visible. On the second floor, though, the door to the shop leaked puffs of blackness around its edges. Cameron pushed it open.

A cloud of ash spilled out of the shop and enveloped Cameron. He sank to his knees, coughing and spluttering. His illusions of smoke-resistant powers vanished. His eyes stinging, Cameron looked around the shop. Everything was on fire, a lifetime of magical treasures and trinkets melting, warping, and combusting. Occasionally a jar or beaker would explode, its magical contents spraying and glass shards embedding themselves in the nearest bookcases. Cameron took note to stay away from those aisles in case any of those potions were poisonous.

“Ben??!” he yelled, but got no answer other than the roar of the flames. Cameron stayed low to the ground, crawling toward the counter, looking for Ben or any sign of him.

At the same time, his mind worked to figure out how Lana’s people had found Ben and his hideout spot. Had he been seen leaving the shop? Had he been followed? But what did it matter, anyway? They had taken Raven and they had probably killed Ben, his only link to a cure for his werewolfism. He could have all the ingredients on the list but only Ben knew how to brew the potion. And even if the recipe had been written down, with the shop in flames it was surely lost.

“BEN!!!!”, he yelled again.

Cameron had explored the whole shop area, which meant Ben must be somewhere in the back rooms. The heat was getting more intense by the minute and the smoke was forcing him lower and lower to the ground. He crawled behind the counter and through the door to the library room.

The couch, the new, wonderful couch, looked like it had already finished burning. The cover was blackened and consumed in most places, although it looked like the stuffing hadn’t burned. The bookshelves were like walls of flame, the books providing more than enough fuel to the conflagration. Remnants of what looked like a rope snaked across the floor haphazardly.

The smoke had gotten so thick that Cameron had to hold his breath to move around, then duck close to the floor to take a breath. He wouldn’t last much longer, magical or not.

Cameron heard a thump from inside the door to the lab hallway and shuffled over there as fast as he could. He stumbled, gasped, and sucked in a lungful of smoke, causing him to cough and retch. His eyes were getting bleary so he stumbled towards the door, desperate to get out. He pulled open the door, praying that the smoke wouldn’t be worse inside. Instead, it looked like the fire hadn’t yet spread that way. The hallway to the lab was mostly clear, with a thin cloud of smoke hanging at the ceiling. The door closed behind him.

He leaned against the wall and caught his breath, the dull roar of the flames just outside the door seeming suddenly far away. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get them to stop stinging, but it didn’t help at all. He blinked until they were somewhat clear, and as his eyes focused he saw something in the bathroom doorway. It was a shoe attached to a thin leg, and it was moving, just slightly.

“Ben!” he yelled, his voice hoarse and scratchy. He coughed, trying not to gag again, and crawled over to the door. The leg moved a little more, but only weakly.

Cameron rounded the corner of the door frame. Benedict was sprawled on the floor next to the sink, breathing quick, shallow breaths. A small leatherbound notebook lay in his lap. His skin was bright red in patches and there was black soot on his face under his nose and mouth. He was clutching his left arm which was blackened. There were patches where Cameron couldn’t tell where his clothing stopped and skin started. Cameron choked back tears.

“Ben, what happened? Did you see who started the fire? How did they get past your ... defenses, whatever?”

The old man shook his head. “Asleep ... on the couch...”

“And someone broke in? Ben, we’ve got to get you out of here,” he said. He moved to put his arms under the old man, but he pushed him away and shook his head, weakly.

“No,” he whispered.

“Oh, so can you teleport? Do you have a broom around somewhere?” Cameron looked around the bathroom. Maybe Ben had come to this room for a reason.

The old man put his hand on his arm. “My boy,” he said, “I am finished.”

Cameron couldn’t accept it. “What do you mean? I can carry you--”

“Mr. Cameron, please settle and listen, there are things you must know.”

Cameron forced his mouth closed. The old man didn’t look like he had a lot of time.

“You are probably most ... concerned...” he started, and coughed.

“With getting you out of here,” Cameron finished for him.

Ben smiled. “Be honest, boy. With the completion of your cure.”

Cameron grimaced.

Ben’s eyes found his and locked on to them with unexpected intensity.

“Mr. Cameron, there is no cure.”

Cameron’s mouth dropped open until he got another lungful of dirty air and started gagging and spluttering again.

“WHAT?” he choked out.

“I am truly sorry,” said Ben, now unable to look at him.

“But you gave me the spell, you did this to me, why can’t you reverse it? Just undo what you did!” Cameron was yelling now, his anger smothering the sympathy he knew he should be feeling.

“My boy,” said Ben quietly, “I don’t know how. The truth of the matter is that I am not a very good magician -- barely second-rate as my tutor put it. In many ways you and your friends are more talented than I. What I have achieved I earned through hard work and study, not through intuition or raw power. Why the very first day you entered my store my identification pendant malfunctioned.

“I tried my best with your formula, but after your overdose I gave you the shopping list to buy myself some time. I contacted some of the greatest minds in magic, hoping they would give me an actual cure for you. They reacted with horror at my ineptitude and said the recipe was irreversible. Your blood had bonded with the werewolf’s permanently.

“Even now, I lay here dying because I fell asleep on the couch with my pipe still lit and there is nothing I can do.”

Cameron had to sit down. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. There was a loud crash somewhere behind them. The building was collapsing. Because the old fool fell asleep smoking.

“So I’m doomed to become a full werewolf? Its blood will just get stronger and stronger...”

“Not necessarily,” said Ben with conviction. “The condition will not progress as long as you never feed. You must be strong, but you are under no death sentence.”

Cameron was shaking his head. “I don’t -- I can’t -- Oh, Ben. One thing, maybe one thing. Don’t you have any more normalcy charms?”

The old man shook his head again. “Those charms did naught but focus your thoughts. The normalcy projection was yours, the crystal was but a cheap plastic catalyst. You may have to concentrate, but you can do it yourself.

“You, all four of you, are quite powerful wizards. I regret I shall not see you grow.”

There was another crash and the whole room shook around them. Benedict weakly pushed against Cameron with the spine of the book he’d saved.

“This book will help you all keep progressing. Now go, get out, and take it. Or -- I’ll turn you into a frog.”

Cameron looked at Benedict. The man he always thought was a powerful wizard toying with him, playing games with his life, was instead revealed as a weak student of magic in over his head. He didn’t know whether to thank the dying man or spit on him. Save him, or kill him. He reached down and took the slim volume, dropping it in a pocket.

“Goodbye, Ben,” he said, and left.

His mind was elsewhere as he leaped out a window and landed smoothly on his feet in the alley.

The man looked out through the one-way mirror at the subject lying sedated on the gurney. For the brief period she was awake she’d been a feisty one, that was for sure. He hoped that tendency would translate well. He checked his watch. Things would start getting interesting soon.

His earpiece beeped, indicating an incoming signal.

“Bob will be there momentarily,” said the voice on the other end.