CHAPTER 31
“You had some of us worried for a little while, Rowan,” Constance said.
“Yeah, I kind of got that impression,” I replied.
Ben snorted and then quipped, “Not me. It was all them. I knew you were fine.”
“Liar,” I sighed.
“Yeah, okay. So maybe I was worried just a little.”
“Uh-huh. Just a little. Sure.” I answered him with a sarcastic grunt and then said, “Thanks though. I appreciate the concern.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s all good.”
I let out another labored sigh then closed my eyes and attempted to will myself to relax. I hadn’t been having much luck with that exercise so far, and I wasn’t expecting to now, but that didn’t keep me from trying.
The somewhat overestimated crisis itself had ended almost as quickly as it began, probably even quicker, in fact. Even so, it was nearly an hour before Ben and Constance were allowed back into the room with me; and that only happened once it had been decided that my shivering had somehow caused abnormal readings to feed back through the monitors, thereby falsely setting off the alarms. Since various and repeated checks of my vitals showed they were as normal as they could possibly be given my current physical condition, that was the only explanation that seemed to fit the minds of the medical professionals tending to me.
Of course, I knew better. There was definitely something else going on. While I certainly wasn’t an expert, I doubted that it was my shaking or that there were system anomalies causing the alarms. My money was on the fact that a door between the worlds of the living and dead was once again propped wide open. I even had the familiar pounding headache and background drone in my ears to prove it, both of which were ailments I had never imagined I would be glad to have back.
Until now, that is.
Still, I just let the doctors and nurses believe their faulty conclusion. It would be better for everyone concerned if I left it that way.
“Are you still feeling okay, Rowan?” Constance asked.
“Okay as can be expected, I guess.”
“Do you want to try sleeping now? I can make Storm shut up if you want me to.”
“Hey!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m not the one yammerin’, you are.”
“Don’t worry… You’re both fine…” I said.
At the moment I was reclined farther back in the bed than I had been earlier. The intensity of the spasms I’d experienced had apparently caused a bit of concern as well, in particular regarding the status of my incisions. That in turn had led to an examination of the wounds just to be sure nothing had torn. Along with that came an unscheduled change of the dressings. This was the first time I had seen the injuries-that I could remember anyway. From the quick glimpse I caught of the jagged rows of staples, it was obvious that I would be sporting some pretty serious scars. Of course, there really wasn’t anything new about that, so it was really the least of my concerns.
Now, however, due to all that extra activity, the pain in my gut was even further agitated than before. It was vying hard for my attention, and without a doubt, winning; but I still wasn’t ready for the dump of painkiller into my veins just yet. I had a pretty good idea that once I did cave in and press the button, the ensuing nightmare would be taking on a whole new level of intensity. To me, that much was a given.
Unfortunately, that conclusion also left me in a quandary. On the one hand, I wondered if the horror of the darkened dream might bring answers. On the other, I questioned whether or not they might be answers I didn’t really want. Still, under the circumstances, I knew it was eventually going to happen whether I liked it or not. I only hoped that I would be prepared for whatever it was I would see.
The stretch of impromptu quiet finally came to a close when Ben elected to offer a personal observation. “Ya’know, if I didn’t know better, I woulda thought you were goin’ all Twilight Zone on us earlier. I mean, that’s kinda what it looked like.”
I opened my eyes and rolled my head toward him. “Actually, I was, sort of.”
“Whaddaya mean?” he asked. “I thought ya’ said Miranda had ya’ all locked outta that or somethin’?”
“She did,” I agreed then tried to shake my head. “But she doesn’t anymore.”
“That a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’m leaning toward good.”
“Okay… So, you seein’ anything out there in la-la land now?” he asked.
“No. Not yet but I suspect it’s coming soon.”
“Okay, so, not tryin’ ta’ be an ass or anything, but how do ya’ really know ya’ got your Witch-fu back?”
“Trust me,” I sighed. “I know.”
“Do you know how it happened?” Constance asked.
“Ben broke a spell,” I replied.
My friend shook his head and huffed, “Yeah, right.”
I answered the objection. “I’m not kidding.”
“Okay, ya’ wanna explain how the hell I managed that? You’re the Witch, not me.”
“Actually, it was both of you,” I said. “Constance told me the victim upstairs had my name carved into him.”
“Yeah, well that’s an understatement. Poor bastard’s prob’ly gonna hafta change his name ta’ Rowan after this ‘cause of all the scars he’s gonna have.”
“My point exactly.”
“I don’t follow,” Ben pressed. “We already know the bitch is a fuckin’ psycho, and she’s fixated on you an’ Firehair.”
“True, but that wasn’t just some sociopathic act on Miranda’s part,” I explained. “Was it just Rowan, or was it my full name?”
He shrugged, “Both, I guess. Some spots it was just Rowan. But wherever it’d fit it was first, middle, and last.”
“I figured as much. That means there was a very specific purpose behind her doing that. She was naming him after me. Literally turning him into a living poppet. An effigy of me, actually.”
“Okay,” Ben grunted. “So what you’re sayin’ is she made ‘erself a real, live Rowan doll ta’ torture by proxy.”
“Something like that.”
“Okay, but I still don’t see what that’s got ta’ do with me ‘n Constance breakin’ a spell.”
“The poppet wasn’t just for her to torture, Ben. He was part of a larger piece of SpellCraft.”
“Keep goin’, I’m listenin’…”
“It’s simple really. You told me that he was both deaf and mute, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she picked him specifically because of that. Then once he had been named as me, she also took away his sight and, by cutting off his fingers, his ability to even use sign language. In effect, she did everything necessary to render him unable to communicate, at least in the short run. She isolated him from the outside world in every way possible.”
Constance spoke up with a questioning note in her voice. “So if I understand what you are saying, what she did was some type of magick to keep you from communicating with spirits like you normally do?”
“Exactly. It’s called sympathetic magick. She made me blind, deaf, and mute as far as ethereal communication was concerned. I have to give her credit, it was an inspired move. Sick and twisted as all hell, but definitely inspired… And in this case, it obviously worked pretty damn well. It probably still would be if he’d never escaped and ended up here.”
Ben shook his head. “Okay, that makes sense I guess… Well, ya’know…sorta… I mean at least as far as anything with you ever makes any kinda sense to the rest of us normal people… But I still don’t get what Constance and I had ta’ do with makin’ it go away.”
“Sometimes…” I began then paused and qualified my impending statement “Not always, but sometimes…breaking a spell can be as simple as just knowing that it exists and how it was done.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah… No shit.”
“And that’s what happened here?” he asked.
“Yeah. That’s what happened.”
“But didn’t you already know she was doin’ this?”
“I knew she was blocking me, but I didn’t know it was a spell. As soon as I was clued in as to how she was doing it and put it all together, the wall she’d built began to crumble.”