Chapter 4
“It's a magical surge,” Tara said the next day as she went over the test results with Desmond and Nathaniel. “We all get them as we grow. Just with Sienna, it's obviously different.”
“How much power are we talking about?” Nathaniel asked, wanting exact measurements. His mind was scientific; he understood such things. But Tara simply shrugged.
“It's off the charts, Nathaniel. And once it goes off the charts, there's no way for me to tell. She's not like anyone else. You know that.”
“But you can't just give up,” Nathaniel protested. “We have to know.”
“What part of ‘not like anyone else’ is so hard to understand?” Tara asked him, half growling. “I don't know. I can treat her like any other teenager having a magical surge and hope that it works. Suppress her power with herbs until she learns–”
“You will not give her herbs,” Nathaniel cut her off and gritted his teeth.
“Nathaniel,” Desmond said. “You have to at least listen to what she has to say.”
“Thank you,” Tara answered, although she wasn't impressed. “It's just until she learns how to control her power. About twenty-five percent of witches hitting puberty go through this. It's normal.”
“Do they spike fevers, seize, and faint?” Nathaniel asked and Tara shook her head.
“Of course not. They just feel a bit ill.”
“So, it's not normal,” Nathaniel pointed out.
Tara rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to do nothing?”
“We will consider our options,” Desmond said. “Thank you, Tara. How much longer until she can leave?”
“When you are comfortable,” Tara replied. “Obviously, you aren't taking her on missions. There is something else you should know though.” She flipped to a screen on the tablet. “Her blood pressure dropped three points, and nothing I do can get it up. No amount of treatment or medication is going to help, so it's going to be normal for her. But this comes a year after another drop. This blood pressure drop is a steady occurrence. It's why she faints.”
“She's deteriorating,” Nathaniel said, slowly.
Tara shrugged, pulling back the tablet. “You knew that,” she said coldly. “You've always known that.”
“Your bedside manner is stunning,” Nathaniel said as he stood. “Thanks for nothing.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Tara answered as she left them.
Desmond gave his former Tiro a look. “Why are you so terrible to her?”
“Because she's terrible to us,” Nathaniel answered.
Desmond sighed. “That is not what the magic teaches us,” he pointed out.
“Tara is an exception to all rules,” Nathaniel glanced at the clock. “What do you want to do? That quest is postponed, so we aren't expected to leave anyway. I still have class to teach if we take her out of here, and I suppose the Jurors will expect you to do more than sit with her while you are here. Although they shouldn't.”
“What do you want to do?” Desmond asked calmly. “It was not I who had to sit with her while she fought the darkness. It couldn't have been easy. Do you want to go through that again?”
Nathaniel took a deep, shuddering breath. He hadn't been honest with Desmond, but it had been one of most frightening nights of his whole life. She had made no sense, raving and fighting against the pain, and he wished he could take it away.
“I don't know,” he said. “I want her to be safe. Tara makes that sound like it will be weeks, but I can see that she is better already. She did homework last night, so that's something. She's itching to return to class.”
“Maybe another day,” Desmond said as he rose as well. “Do you agree?”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said, watching his former Maestro. “You have a meeting?”
“I do,” Desmond said. “Our usual shift schedule is obviously disrupted. I'll be back within the hour, if that's fine with you.”
“Indeed,” Nathaniel replied.
Desmond hated to leave him, but he and Mariah had arranged to grade a batch of brand new initiates who were barely able to walk. At this age, they were assessed by the Academy, and it was determined whether they would be returned to their families or not. It was going to be quick, although his mind was clearly distracted.
“You're troubled.” Mariah had a knack for knowing as soon as he entered the room. They were meeting in a small conference room, the children to be brought to them.
“You always know,” he said as he took a seat beside her.
“Is it Sienna?”
He sighed. “It is. But Nathaniel's handling of the situation surprises me every day. He is a strict Maestro, with no room for leniency in the rules he has set out.”
“Not what you expected?” Mariah asked.
Desmond squeezed her hand lightly. “He's so different from the others, that's for sure.”
“So different from me, you mean?”
Desmond's head snapped up, and a smile came over his face. Christa, his former Tiro, stood in the doorway, her leather jacket still buckled and her hair pulled up.
Christa was his second Tiro, a special case. She had been seventeen when her Maestro was killed on the cusp of the tests. Obviously, the death of her Maestro set her back, and her fate was unknown. Desmond had been freshly reeling from Reynolds' desertion and had not wanted to take on another Tiro, possibly ever. Somehow, the two found each other. The year he spent training Christa was for his own healing as much as hers. At eighteen, she took the tests and went on to become a pilot with flight skills that were second to none. She had one Tiro a few years ago who was now grown. Now, she seemed happy, healthy, and energetic – the opposite of Sienna.
“Everyone is different from you, Christa,” he said, glad to lay eyes on her. “Was it you who flew these new initiates in?”
“Through a meteor shower, blindfolded,” Christa grinned. “The blindfold was just for fun.”
“Of course, you did,” Desmond answered.
“I just saw Sybil, Mariah,” Christa said. “She and Kierry were on Lanco, where I was doing a pickup.”
“Small galaxy,” Mariah said with a smile. She was so glad when Desmond had taken Christa on, for it had brought them both a light in the darkness. “How many are coming, Christa?”
“Six or seven,” Christa said. “I'm not sure of half of them, but that's not my job; it's yours.”
“Are you staying, Christa?” Desmond asked. She flew so often that she didn't have regular rooms there. Christa was more comfortable in space than on land. “We could have dinner, if you'd like?”
“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “All of us?”
“Er…” Desmond answered. “Sienna is in the med bay, and Nathaniel will not leave her side. So, it will likely just be us, if that's all right.”
“Oh,” Christa's face fell. She had known Nathaniel since he was a child, and Desmond's newest addition was as dear to her as a sibling. “I should go see them.”
“You must be busy,” Desmond said, but she shook her head.
“It's fine. My duty is over for the day. I'll see you for dinner, though, Maestro.”
“See you soon,” Desmond said, as Christa ducked out. He turned back to Mariah who squeezed his hand.
“You always light up when she's in the room,” Mariah said, and Desmond smiled.
“She was the easiest one,” he said. “I thought it would be so difficult to take over, but Christa was so strong, so independent. She taught me more than I taught her, I'm sure of it.”
“And now there's whole new generations running around with the teaching of Desmond in their heads,” Mariah said softly.
She was leaning particularly close to him, and he focused on her soft, rose colored lips. Mariah was so beautiful, but it wasn't her physical appearance that took his breath away. It was her strength, her words, and her love for him.
Never in forty years had they ever walked away from each other. She was a piece of him as much as his arm or heart was. He leaned in ever so gently, unable to resist.
He used to be able to resist her. But something about age creeping up on him had taught him that time was useless if it was wasted.
“Oh, my,” Mariah said softly at the light kiss. “What's gotten into you?”
“The realization of mortality,” he replied as he pulled back. “What if I never got a chance to do that again? I would live with regrets.”
“And now you live with none?” she asked.
“Never,” he answered as he heard the young Tiros start to file down the hallway. Their love was a secret. He may have taught his Tiros many things, but except for Nathaniel, he was glad they hadn't learned this part.
***
In the med bay, Sienna was feeling better as the drugs Tara had her on flooded her system. However, she could have been dying and she wouldn't have noticed as she watched Devon hop into a chair across the hallway, stretching his arm out so they could connect him to an IV pole.
She didn't want to be obvious, but she knew that she was staring. It only took a moment before he noticed her staring and smiled. As soon as he was properly hooked up, he stood, taking the pole and walking across the hallway to her.
“So, they still have you in this joint?” he asked, leaning against her doorway.
She shrugged. “It's going to be a few days, I think. It's okay. I'm used to it.”
“Nah, no one should be used to it,” he said, coming in. “We could blow this joint and get some food.”
“What?” she asked as she smiled at him. “We can't just leave.”
“Why not?” he asked, following her own IV tubing. “We're technically portable. No one is going to stop us. We'll say we are just going for a walk.”
“But…” She had never heard such a suggestion of rebellion before. “Don't you need to be here?”
“I need to be hooked up, that's all,” he said. “The rest is up to me.”
She paused at that, unsure of whether to trust him. Her eyes went up to his IV bag. “Why are you here?” she asked as she squinted at the label. He shrugged.
“Just some after quest maintenance."
“No,” she sat up a bit more. “That's Hydroxon. That's not for injuries. At least, not in humanoids.”
“Maybe I'm not a humanoid,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow.
“You must be a master of magic then,” she said, and he considered his options.
“What do you think it's for?”
“Hydroxon?” she asked, and he nodded. “That's for cell death. To kill a foreign entity in your body.”
“Sure,” he replied. “So, we are on a quest and an alien life form–”
“Not that kind of foreign entity,” she replied. She may be tired, but she wasn't stupid. “One that you create within yourself. They tried it on me a few times, but it just made me worse.”
He sighed. “You're smart, eh?”
“About some things,” she answered. “Are you sick?”
He looked over his shoulder and then walked a few steps closer.
“No one needs to know, hmm?”
Her eyes widened. “Does your Maestro know?”
“Yes, of course.” He rolled his eyes. “It would be impossible to not tell her. But aside from her, I mean. And you, I guess.”
Suddenly, what Desmond said about Laura keeping her mouth shut concerning Devon made sense. She was hiding a condition of his from the Jurors, likely to keep them from controversial choices he was making.
“Are you…” She paused, trying to think of the best words. “You are very sick?”
“If this was the twenty-first century on Earth or somewhere else remote, I might be,” he answered. “But here, and now? No. There's so many things they have. Don't let the tubing fool you. I don't feel any pain, I don't have sick days, and I won't drop dead anytime soon.”
His grin was infectious. Despite the lightness of his voice, she felt like he had just let her in on a secret. They had something in common, and he had told her something that no one else knew.
Maybe she could trust him.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Just down to the cafeteria,” he answered. “I'm starving, and you know how they are with these drugs. Never eat anything fun until they are done. Can you walk?”
“Mostly,” she was slow, but she could still place her feet on the floor.
“Here, my lady,” he said, and held out his arm.
“Sir,” she grinned as they touched. Shivers went down her spine, and she leaned slightly on him as they walked. This was the first real adventure she'd had in months, and she was glad to have it with him.