England 1814
"She's
asking for you," Julia Grey said softly at the door to his laboratory.
Drake Merriweather sat at his desk hunched over one of his spellbooks and continued
his search for some manner of spell to cure his dying wife. Even Julia knew it
was too late. Susanna had suffered enough from the disease that wracked her
body with unendurable pain.
"It's
here," he said, not looking up from the book. "I know it is."
Julia
stepped into the room and flinched from the sulfuric smells of past failed
experiments. Some still smoldered in a bowl on the table near the wall. For
months Julia and her father had helped Drake and his wife with their crusade.
While her father assisted Drake in his laboratory casting spells of all kinds,
Julia cared for Susanna, assisting her in the battle to survive each day. She
fed her, clothed her, helped carry her to the window to gaze upon her garden.
"She
doesn't have much longer," Julia said, resting her hand on Drake's shoulder. At her touch, he
trembled. He crouched further over the ancient text of the book he gripped
tightly in his hands, covering his face with the pages. Very slowly, Julia
pried the spellbook from his fingers, placed it onto the table and closed the
cover. At the sound of the book closing, Drake took a deep breath and straightened.
"Come
with me. She needs you." Julia helped Drake stand, holding his arm for
support as they walked out of the room. She guided him through the hall and up
the stairs until they reached the door to his wife's chamber.
Drake
paused. He stared at the door for several moments before taking Julia's hand away from his arm.
"Thank
you for all that you've done," Drake said, squeezing her fingers. He
looked at her, and Julia flinched at the pain in his eyes. It was something she
had seen shadowed there before, but now that the moment had come, that he'd at
last accepted there was no cure, no saving his beloved wife, she saw the last
vestiges of hope wither and die. It faded slowly into oblivion. The only thing to
remain was pain. A dark, depthless pain.
Julia's
eyes filled as she watched him straighten. Another change came over him. He
tilted his head up and took a deep breath. Then he opened the door and walked
in.
Julia
entered behind him. The sight of the woman, sunken within the sheets of the
bed, her skin as pale as the snow falling outside the uncovered window took
Julia's breath away. Every time she saw Susanna, the poor frail woman appeared
worse. Now that the end was mere moments away, Julia could see clearly the
signs of strain on her face. She appeared to have aged several decades in the
single year since they discovered she suffered from Belit’s Curse. Unlike a magical
curse that could be cast by a practioner of dark magic, Belit’s Curse was an illness. It was a
horrible wasting disease that took the magic and the life away from witches and
sorcerers alike. It was said an ancient witch named Belit was the first to
succumb to the disease. There was no known cure. Nothing could be done to
dispel the pain that slowly crept into their limbs, crippling them until they
could no longer walk or function. It did not stop until it ravaged their
bodies, leaving naught but an empty, lifeless shell.
No one
knew how the disease was transmitted, if it was transmitted at all. It seemed
to only strike a few random unfortunates. In all of Julia's four and twenty
years on this earth, Susanna was the only victim she had ever known.
"My
love," Drake said, his voice strong and cheerful where moments ago Julia
could barely hear him speak from his grief. "Miss Grey has said you have
need of me. I am here, my love."
He sat
on the bed beside her, taking one delicate pale hand into his. He smiled at her
and his eyes reflected the love he felt deep in his heart.
"Drake..."
Susanna said, relief transforming her features. "At last..."
"I'm
here, sweet." He brushed her dark hair away from her face. She leaned into
his hand, tears streaming from her closed eyes.
"Oh,
Drake, I do not want to die!"
The
sound of the woman's pitiful cry brought tears to Julia's eyes. She grasped the
doorframe, and squeezed her nails into the hard wood. She marveled at Drake's
strength, at his ability to not be visibly crushed by his wife's pain and fear.
He smiled, brushing her hair, and speaking softly into her ear. There were no
tears from him, no moments of agonized anger at his helplessness.
In the
last few months, she had seen Drake break down again and again in his
laboratory, but he never showed any fear in the company of his wife. When in
her presence, he was strong, confident, cheerful, unafraid of the possibility
of losing her. His confidence always lent strength to his wife, offered her
hope and the will to go on even during those many days when she simply wanted
to fall into a deep sleep and never wake.
"I
do not want to leave you," Susanna cried out. "I want to love you. I
want to have children. I have so much to do yet in this life!"
"Of
course, my love, and you will," Drake murmured. "You will, I promise
you. Did I not say that I would find the end to your suffering?"
Susanna
nodded, her sunken eyes appearing huge in her sallow face.
Drake
lifted his head to look for Julia's father. The gray-haired man stood in the
corner of the room, his face ashen.
"Roger,"
Drake said, one hand waving for him to step forward. "Bring the
potion."
Her
father's head dropped. Julia saw he held a bottle in his hand, one she'd never
before seen. He stepped forward, his steps slow and reluctant. When he reached
the bedside, he hesitated.
"Are
you certain?" Roger asked, his normally booming voice now a faint whisper.
Julia leaned forward to hear. "If you do this... There will be no turning
back. You cannot undo what will be done."
"I
have no choice, my friend," Drake returned, a grim determination glinting in
his dark blue eyes. He extended his hand.
Roger's
hand trembled, his large fingers turned the bottle around and around. Coming to
a decision, Roger backed away, and took the potion out of Drake's reach.
"No. I cannot allow you to do this."
Drake's
face contorted with rage and shock. He released his wife's hand, grimacing when
she cried out for him. He stood and walked toward Roger, who backed away.
"You
will give it to me."
Julia's
breath lodged in her throat. She stood frozen, uncertain what was being played
out before her. What was in the bottle? Why was her father so reluctant to give
it to Drake?
"I
cannot let you," Roger repeated. There were tears on his cheeks.
"Drake!
Do not leave me!" Susanna wailed, reaching out for him.
"Roger,
I demand you give it to me. There will be consequences, I promise you!"
"It
will damn you both! I'm saving your eternal soul, my friend, as well as
hers."
"My
soul will be in torment without her!" Drake growled as he advanced.
"I can save her. I will save
her. I vowed it. This is the only way I can achieve it."
"No!"
Drake
lunged at Roger. Susanna cried out, reaching for her husband. Julia raced
across the room, well out of the way of the struggling men. She reached
Susanna's side, grabbed her hands and blocked her view of the fight taking
place.
"All
is well," Julia said softly, crooning to her as if she were a child.
"A mere disagreement. All will be well."
Inside
Julia raged. How dare they fight over a silly little bottle while this poor
woman battled for each and every breath! But, she knew her father. He was a
good, peaceful man. He would never act with violence if he did not have reason.
"Take
me to the window, Julia," Susanna said, her voice raspy, her eyes filled
with tears.
Julia
nodded, then pulled back the blankets and helped the woman slide out of the
massive four-poster bed. She took one arm around her neck and helped Susanna
stumble a few feet to the seat by the window. Ever since she had weakened to
the point where she could no longer walk, they each took turns carrying Susanna
about. Drake would carry her to the laboratory where she would watch him work.
Roger would carry her to the kitchens where she watched Cook creating
masterpieces out of their meals. But when her strength left her so frail that
she could not leave her room any longer, Julia helped her to sit by her window
every day, so she could look upon her garden below.
Susanna
loved her garden. She had spent hours upon hours working her magic on the plants,
helping them to grow for her spells.
The once beautiful and elegant garden appeared ashen. Even with a thin layer of snow covering what remained of her favorite spot, it was obvious to see the destruction cast upon it. Drake had tested each plant,
using them in his experiments and spells as he searched for a cure. He was
certain it was a matter of time before he found the right combination that
would stop the disease. But, the disease never treated each of its victims
alike. One could suffer for ten or more years, while another might waste away
within a few short months.
"So
little time we have," Susanna said. She leaned her forehead and one hand
against the glass. Her warm breath puffed onto the wintry glass. Drake and her
father continued to struggle behind them, while Julia knelt beside Drake's wife
watching her eyelids blink wearily. "Do not let time escape you, Julia.
You are blessed with it. Use it well."
"Yes,"
Julia said, holding Susanna's other hand.
Soon,
the fogged glass of the window cleared.
Susanna's
hand grew limp and lifeless. Julia rested her cheek against it as teardrops fell
onto Susanna’s skin.
"No!"
Drake roared. He shoved Julia aside and took his wife into his arms. The potion
successfully obtained in one hand, he uncorked the bottle and poured the
contents into his wife's throat. "Drink, my love. Drink!"
The
liquid splashed across Susanna's face and onto Drake's hand. He did not stop
working it into her throat until the bottle was empty.
"All
is well, my love," Drake said, tossing the bottle to the floor where it
smashed. He lifted Susanna onto his lap and held her, gazing out of the window.
"All will be well. I'll have you back again. I vow, my love. I'll have you
back again."
Roger
took Julia by her arm, helping her to stand. While she cried, Roger helped her
from the room. She glanced at her father, his hair mussed, his lip bloodied,
and his shirt slightly torn. He had fought well, but Drake was the younger,
stronger witch.
"It's
over now, Papa," Julia said, sniffling between her sobs.
"I
fear not, my pet," Roger mumbled. He turned his face into her hair to
place a kiss upon her head. "I fear it has only begun."
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