The Coming | The House of Voices #2

Nineteen - Magic

Magic

October:

When I finally came to, my arm felt as if someone had shoved several cubes of ice into my veins. My eyes flew open and my right hand flew to my injured hand, clawing at the stiff stuff that covered it, desperately trying to get rid of that icy-burn feeling. Groggily, I forced myself to sit up and when I did, I realized that my injured arm was covered in a… a cast?

No, it wasn’t a cast. It was far too flimsy to be a cast. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark yet, so I couldn’t really tell exact what my arm was wrapped in, but it felt a lot like and ace bandage. Had Ace bandaged my arm with an ace bandage? In my delirium, I laughed out loud at my lame joke. And then I realized how mean it was of me – how could I make fun of her name? – and I slapped my uninjured hand across my mouth. It felt a little strange, having to rely on my right hand instead of my left one, but I guess I didn’t have much of a choice, not until my favored arm healed.

I looked around the room I was in. It wasn’t the same one I’d seen in the morning; not Ace’s. It must have been one of the guest rooms she was telling us about. The walls were painted a lovely shade of green that made the room look warm and inviting. The furnishing was minimal; the room only contained a bed, a bedside table, a desk and a wardrobe. There was also an old wicker chair by the side of the bed next to my uninjured hand.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the impersonal room taking it in, before I threw the covers off my body and slid off the bed. The movement caused the icy-burn in my arm to flare up again and I winced, clutching my arm to my chest. The burn faded into a sting and then into a slow throb. As long as I didn’t jostle it or move it around too much, I realized, the pain was manageable.

The hardwood floor under my feet was cold as I crossed the room and opened the door. The hallway, thankfully, was carpeted. The minute I stepped out of the room and into the hallway, the sound of quiet conversation met my ears. I followed the sounds down the stairs and into the den where Ace was perched on the arm of the cushy couch, sipping something out of one of the mugs I’d seen in the kitchen when we first arrived – the one with the teal swirls on it.  Had we only arrived here this morning? It felt like it had been days.

Something soft pressed against my leg and I looked down to see Tubman the cat rubbing itself against me, purring. The noises the cat was making caused Parish, who was sitting on the far side of the couch from Ace his feet propped up on the apothecary table, to look up and notice me. Snapping his gaze away from the book on his lap, he fixed me with a careful smile. “Hey,” he said quietly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not bad,” I replied, stepping into the den. Annoyed by my sudden movements, Tubman ran into the kitchen, looking disgruntled.

Ace pulled the mug away from her mouth and set it carefully on the end table just behind her. “How’s the pain, on a scale of one to ten?” She’d let her hair out of its high ponytail, letting it flow down her back in loose, shiny waves. It was long, reaching almost up to the small of her back.

“As long as I don’t make any sudden movements, it’s about a five,” I told her as Parish scooted along the couch to give me room. I sat down in the space between him and Ace’s feet. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Um,” she glanced at something over our heads, “about four hours. How’s the arm feel? As in, describe the sensation.”

I looked down at the bandaged arm. “I don’t know, it’s sort of burning, but not.”

“Ah, the freeze-fire…” she nodded in understanding. “Definitely don’t move it around too much, it hurts like a bitch. Good news is that the freeze-fire means that it’ll take only another couple hours or so for the healing to finish up. Your arm’ll be good as new in time for dinner.”