Chapter 2: Does Everything End in Death?

All our lives I had hated her, and while in recent years I had also learned to love her, it was only after she had died that I loved her completely. I could not bear the loss. That bullet wouldn’t have killed me. As the only male in my bloodline, the gift of Hesseus would have kept me alive. There was only one thing I could do; it was forbidden and, unlike the bullet, it would probably kill me.

Unlike in the books and movies, saying spells and incantations, casting runes, and drawing sigils in the air did nothing but help the practitioner focus. I had an unbreakable will and with it a focus which made all that unnecessary. Real magic was mind over matter using Power as a catalyst.

I began to channel my reserves of power; Life and Death. Death, I used to catch Rachel’s soul and pull it back; back to this world, back to her body. Life, I used to heal her body. Timing was important in this spell. If her body finished healing before her soul returned, she would become a soulless revenant and a ghost; never able to be whole again. If her soul returned before her body could be revived, she would be trapped in an animated corpse, always decaying.

I hurried the healing of her lung, heart, and spinal cord. When those were complete, her soul would be able to return her to life. Then slowed her healing, as I mended her rib and vertebrae. Finally, I started to stitch her flesh. When I felt it; her soul’s return and her beating heart, I sped her healing again and remembered to fix her clothing where the wound had been. When the spell was done, I collapsed into darkness. I had known there is a price to pay for combining Life and Death.

I awoke.

That was a surprise.

I opened my eyes and saw a small crowd had gathered around us. Brad was drooling onto the pavement, Rachel was sitting, eyes wide as she felt her chest, and I was lying in my sister’s blood. Several in the crowd were talking over each other; it was clear that at least three students had seen what happened, and that no faculty had arrived, yet.

“Rachel, pick up the keys and get me to the hospital ... NOW!”

For once, she didn’t fight. She didn’t say anything at all–thank goodness, until we were in the car and leaving the parking lot.

“Brad shot me ... He shot me in the chest ... I felt it burn through my heart ... How am I be alive? ... What happened to you? ... What happened to Brad?” I didn’t know whether she thinking out loud or expecting an answer from me. That is until she turned to me and repeated, “How am I alive?”

“Which do you want, the truth or what I’m going to tell the ER?” I asked.

“Both.”

“The only logical explanation is that Brad shot me from behind, I fell when I was hit, you feinted when my blood sprayed on you, and Brad went loopy when he looked down at what he had done. That’s what I’m going to say whenever I’m asked.”

“But it’s obvious you haven’t been shot; you aren’t wounded.”

“Right, I’d better see to that. Before we get to the hospital,” and I did. I started by visualizing my chest, the ribs, muscles, lungs, and skin. Then I remembered to add the clothes. Using Death magic, I destroyed a cylindrical path passing between two ribs and barely missing my right lung on the outside. As I started to bleed profusely, I continued to use Death to stretch, twist, and tear the flesh around the wound.

Rachel pulled to a stop outside the ER and got out to seek help. While she was out of the car I was scanning my mind for gunshot details from crime and medical dramas I had seen. I added fibers the bullet would have picked up as it went through my t-shirt, and then heat to simulate the burns caused by a hot bullet. When the stretcher arrived, I was as certain as I could be that the wound would pass for real.

As they put me on the stretcher I said, “Call Mom ... Tell her what happened. And apologize to Mr. Gruffudd.” And then I passed out.

“Mom, he’s waking up,” was the first thing I heard. Rachel had stayed with me at the hospital?

“Thank God you’re okay,” exclaimed my mother. “The doctors say there is incredibly little trauma around the wound, and there are no damaged internal organs. You should recover quickly and completely, but they want you to stay overnight for observation.”

I would heal quickly, as soon as I was away from these doctors. I could use Life magic to heal the wound, mostly. Unlike Rachel’s, my wound would have to heal somewhat naturally and scar at the openings to keep up appearances.

“How long was I out?”

“Just over five hours. It’s–” Rachel checked her watch “–9:20.”

“I’d rather just go home. Mom, can you find out if there’s any way they will release me tonight, and what I’ll have to do for that?”

As soon as Mom was out and the door closed, Rachel said, “now, what’s the truth.”

“You know what happens when I’ve decided to do something, and someone tells me not to?” I asked.

“Yeah, you do it anyway.”

“And you know what what grandpa talked about in all those family stories; what mom told us all to avoid, at all costs, after dad died; what she repeatedly said is nothing but trouble?”

“Magic! But those were just stories.” Her face changed from a look of skepticism to realization to surprise. “Magic is real? And you learned to use it? When?” I could tell she was truly shocked.

“The day of Dad’s funeral Grandpa Carlisle told me the stories were true, showed me proof. Dad was supposed to be protected by the druids’ blessing. I had to know how the magic that affects our family works and why it didn’t save Dad. It took months to find a true practitioner. The reason I went to camp that summer was to meet her. Before she would train me, I had to swear to keep her identity a secret, but she lived near that summer camp.