The Boy Witch

23: Caving In

"Mr. Wiser, your magic is stinking up my house."

Sitting up on my couch proves a challenge, one that Alex assists with, being careful of my injuries. Through my pounding headache and aching body, the nasty stench of Mr. Wiser's magic is potent throughout my house. It makes me more nauseous than I already am.

Doctor Tremain quickly hands me a bottled water with some pills, motioning me to take them. "Pain relievers, at least for the time being." I take the pills dry, not bothering to even try opening the water.

I don't ask about why the sheriff or the doctor are here, I know that I wouldn't be able to handle that kind of information in my current state. Alex sits next to me on the couch, his hand hovering distractingly above my back as if I would faint at any time. Sheriff Dawson sits in the love seat adjacent from the couch a little on the other side of the room and Doctor Tremain stands with the twins and Josh in the hall, looking through the doorway. Mr. Wiser leans against the mantle above the fireplace, smiling at me in a way that tells me he is waiting for something. After a moment, I realize that something is wrong.

"You broke my protection spell," I state angrily, not having the energy to snarl at the warlock. I can tell that it's gone; the absence of my own magic is enough to tell me that. Mr. Wiser's smile grows as he pushes off the mantle.

"Yes, I had no choice," he says, though he doesn't sound regretful in the least. "It was using up a little bit of your existing magic and breaking it meant that some of that magic would return to you. It was the only way that would wake you up faster." Slowly he steps on the opposite side of the coffee table, eyeing me curiously.

"How do you feel?" he asks, something flickering across his expression. "Is your magic still low?"

"I feel like shit," I mutter, eyes narrowing on the warlock. "I feel like I can barely function."

"That's what happens when you use up all your magic." Mr. Wiser hums, as if thinking for a moment. When his eyes light up in a calculating glint, I suddenly become wary of his intentions.

With quick strides, he comes around the coffee table, waving his hand and making a slightly familiar rusting bucket appear in his hold. Standing in front of me, he shoves the bucket into my good hand.

"Hold this."

"Wait, what?"

"You're going to need it in a second."

"So-sorry? For what?"

"For this."

Before I can protest, Mr. Wiser promptly reaches out and places two fingers on my forehead. A wave of electricity suddenly zaps through my body, leaving me both energized and nauseated. I gag and lean over the bucket at the horrible taste I imagine must be his magic, dry heaving into the bucket. Alex rubs soothing circles into my back from my side, seeming to not know what to do. The sparks linger through my shirt when I look up at Mr. Wiser.

"What'd you do?" I rasp, bile still attempting to rise into my mouth.

Mr. Wiser gives me a polite smile and gives me a short pat on the head, simply saying, "Magic transfusion, if you will."

"Your magic tastes as bad as it smells," I tell him, cringing at the lingering taste of rotting meat and sulfur. The taste matches the odor throughout the house completely. It makes me wonder when it will go away or even better, how long I can stand the stench. "A little warning next time, please?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Mr. Wiser ignores the frown I give him, sending me a charming smile instead. "But if it is needed, then I suppose I could warn you."