The Magician's Witch

Broken Places and Departures

Broken Places and Departures

She couldn't be sure what had made her stir from her slumber. She suddenly had the overwhelming feeling that she was being watched. Eilis had turned on her side as she slept, still dressed in her pajamas and robe, lying on top of her bed.

Her eyes snapped open. A dark figure sat there in the dark, staring at her.

Erik.

Eilis gave a yelp of surprise, sitting bolt upright.

"Bloody fecking hell, man," she swore at him. "What the feck are ye doing in here?!"

"You curse quite a lot," Erik remarked, amusement coloring his voice.

"Answer the fecking question," Eilis shot back, piqued about being awoken at God knew what hour to a man watching her sleep.

"Do you mind silencing that?"

Music still blasted from Eilis' phone. Eilis huffed, still irked, and paused the song. She turned back to him, expecting him to begin speaking.

"You better have a good excuse for sneaking into my room in the middle of the night."

She waited.

"Did you fall asleep like that," Erik asked, observing her dress.

"No, the fairies came and froze me like this while I was asleep," Eilis snapped sarcastically.

"Fairies, eh?" He quipped, teasing.

"Erik!"

Erik cleared his throat. "Behzad seemed to think that I owed you an apology for my behavior earlier."

Eilis peered through the dark at him. "You snuck into my room so you could apologize to me?"

There was a pause. "Yes?" Erik's answer came out sounding like a question.

Despite her irritation, Eilis chuckled. Erik joined in, sounding hesitant, unaccustomed to such a response. When the laughter had subsided, Eilis said, "You don't strike me as the apologetic type."

"I am not, usually," Erik confirmed. "But my reaction was inexcusable. I was...not in my right mind."

Eilis sighed then nodded. "And I'm sorry too, for throwing that thing out the window—actually, no, strike that," she changed her mind. "I'm not sorry for doing that. I don't like seeing people hurting themselves."

Silence.

"Why do you care?"

That question again. Eilis frowned, thinking. She shook her head. "I know how addicting and destructive those drugs are," she explained. "Any kind of addiction is a symptom of a deeper problem. The drugs may seem to provide temporary relief for whatever ails you, but sooner or later, your body will develop a tolerance for it, and you'll need more and more of the drug to feel anything—until it finally kills you."

Erik sat in stoic silence, considering her words. "What a tragedy that would be," he mused blackly, looking down at the carpet.

"Stop that," Eilis scolded him. He looked up at her.

Eilis' voice turned soothing. "I don't doubt that you have been through hell already, Erik. It can't be easy being so vastly talented and yet having everyone looking at you like you're a circus freak." She saw him flinch in the shadows, but she went on.

"I've only known you for a brief time, and already I have seen what you are capable of. But you are wasting your abilities on things and people who want to abuse you and your skills for their own nefarious ends. I know you well enough by now to not want that for you—or for anyone else, for that matter."