Page 74 of Catatonic


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“The signs … missing supernatural beings, missing humans, portals opening more frequently … It should have been about this attack,” Deborah mumbled, looking lost and confused, as though her entire life was a lie.

Charlie chuckled rather heartlessly. “The thing is that there's always a crisis, Debs. You just have to decide whether you can deal with it on your own or whether you need back up.”

“But why wouldn’t we know? Why hadn’t we been told? Why wasn’t it written somewhere?” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up and looking around as if to find the answer on the ceiling.

“I think that's an internal query. I’m just a contractor,” Charlie added unhelpfully, and I tried not to smile at his wit.

I turned back to my patient, able to see his pale skin more clearly now that he was partially clean. I couldn’t see or feel any physical injuries other than his extreme emaciation but his breathing sounded weak and shuddery. It worried me.

"I need to try to heal him.” I turned back to them. “Can you all leave? You're distracting."

Charlie pointed at himself with a pantomimed open mouth and big innocent eyes. I raised an eyebrow and pressed my lips together to stop my laugh. He sighed. "Come on, Marianne, Debs. Let's leave it to the professional. We can update the rest of the council on your latest fuck up."

As I gently cleaned a stiff, unmoving arm and the others left quietly, closing the door behind them, I saw his eyelids flutter.

"That's it. In your own time, gently open your eyes. I'm here to help, I promise." I waited, watching his eyes intently, seeing them flicker beneath the lids. The lids tried to open a touch, only to slam down again. A tear rolled from the corner, and my heart ached for him.

"It's okay. If it's too much, you can stop. I don't want to hurt you." I wiped away the tear, which was caught in a deep wrinkle. I opened the side drawer and found a cotton t-shirt, which I folded and placed gently over his eyes.

Zaide, who’d been silently observing the whole time, perched on the other side of the protector and whispered, "What do you need from me, Little Cat?"

I replied just as quietly, "I'm not entirely sure. I did it under duress last time."

He nodded and took my hand. "When I'm in doubt, I always come back to meditation. Shall we try?"

With no other ideas on how to prompt the start of our magic, I nodded, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes, gripping his hands tightly.

He talked me through a whispered meditation, and when we opened our eyes, we were focused and more in touch with our magic. The threads representing health wrapped around Zadie in a lovely green that looked vibrant and healthy.

"I can see the threads," I whispered.

He nodded. "I can see yours." I looked at our patient. Orange blended into red at the bottom of his thread, and it throbbed like a stuttering heart. I winced at how ill he really was. "What do we do now?"

I frowned and tried to remember how I used my power to save us. "I think last time, I focused on pushing magic into the threads, but I don't know how much that helps. Maybe we could try turning the reds to green instead. But gradually, so it doesn't hurt him."

"It sounds like a good idea, Little Cat. Let's give it a try. From the top?"

I nodded. Our hands still clasped together, I focused on the top of the threads wrapped around the protector's head like an angry snake. I imagined them turning green like watching a green ink drop fall into red liquid turning it a dirty yellow. As I drew on the magic I sensed in my soul, I added more drops of green ink, and the threads began to change.

"It's working," Zaide whispered. Excitement tinged his voice as he squeezed my hand.

And then it all went wrong.

The protector's eyes suddenly shot open and met mine. The pain as light registered with his eyes made him squint, but he refused to shut them again. There was a host of horrible emotions in his crystal blue irises, made more vivid by the bloodshot whites and his pale, wrinkled skin.

He groaned, and I reached out to reassure him. His threads were still a yellowish green at the top but were rapidly changing back to red despite the magic I poured into him. He grasped my wrist with such force that I yelped. His lips formed the shape of my name, and I froze.

"Laudia, not ere. Dead." The last word was as clear as glass.

"What?"

His threads turned back to red, and with his eyes still wide open, they gazed past me, and his hand released me to fall into another unnatural pose.

I fell back onto my bum on the wooden floor, confused and scared. "How did he know I died?"

Seeing how shaken I was, Zaide pulled me into his arms. "I don't know, Little Cat. Do not think of it. When we have healed him, you can ask him."

I blinked, hearing his words but not fully registering them. "But we couldn't heal him."

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