I couldn’t think of a post for today but a good prompt always gets my muse chatty.
Blogtober day: 14
“You fucking dick!” I yelled.
He cringed. “It wasn’t my fault. Not at all. Not even in the least bit.”
Last week we had a wizard who had a brilliant idea. He thought what if we made like human-animal hybrids? Like humans with abilities from animals. Stupid fuck makes werewolves and they were running rampant through western Canada now.
Well. This was worse.
“Celeb Johnson, do you have any idea what you have done?” I asked. I could feel the rage heating my face. My heart was pounding from just pure, raw, fury. “Any idea at all?”
“Let me tell my side of the story,” he said, presumptuously sitting down.
“Oh, by all means, tell me what you did,” I said waving a hand mockingly at him.
“So, well, a guy was dying right in front of me. Hit by a bus of all things. Like totally mangled. And here I am a wizard and I never felt so helpless in my life. But I knew I could help him. I could heal him.”
“But of course you are aware wizards have to be certified in healing because it is a very delicate art form,” I said.
“Yeah, but he was dying right there. In front of his family. His wife and four poor kids.”
There was one child. But I conceded the point even if he was exaggerating to make himself look better. Nevertheless, it was like a plumber pretending to be a doctor without the proper certification. We had all learned this the hard way when magic came to be. Heal depression… cause schizophrenia. Heal a broken bone and end up with it being as brittle as glass. Or worse, like rubber. Wizards who were doctors took a vast amount of time and research to learn the lore of healing. And Caleb here thought he could cure a dying man who was hit by a bus for fuck sakes!
I would say we were lucky the man had been alive when Caleb tried. Because if he had died when he tried to heal him that is how you got zombies. And zombie outbreaks were a horrible inconvenience to the wizard community. But, no, he had done something worse.
“I couldn’t let them see their father die before their eyes. I just couldn’t. So, like, I know this old spell I found from research…”
Caleb was one of our finest researchers. And it was helping us relearn how to use this magic stuff. But he was just a researcher.
“It is called Flesh Rejuvenation. So I thought it would heal him completely from external and internal wounds.”
“Did you fuck up the spell? Mispronounce a word? Make the wrong gesture?”
He shook his head adamantly. “Oh no. I did it perfectly it is just that it had side effects. It completely healed him.”
“Yeah, and he became a vampire.”
Like we needed a vampire problem with the rest of the monster problems.
“Then he spontaneously combusted because it was daylight and he died a horrible, horrible death in front of his family who are now suing us and you for the trauma it caused to all four of those kids,” I said.
“Just one kid,” he mumbled.
“At least it died and there was only one this time.”
If anything Caleb looked guilter and more ashamed than he did before. And he was scrunching his hands together in agitation.
“You didn’t give this research out, did you? You know protocol means testing these old spells in a controlled environment. You wouldn’t do anything that foolish, am I right?”
“Richard’s wife is dying of terminal cancer. I just gave it to him to try and see if it would help her. There was nothing more the doctors could do for her.”
So another vampire. That either killed her spouse in bloodlust or made him one too.
“How long ago?” I asked emphasizing each word
“About a month,” he admitted.
Made sense Richard had gone on a caretaker leave last month.
I slammed fist against my desk and swore. Then did it again out of pure frustration. “We are going to have to tell the RCMP’s special unit to get vampire hunters now. And you are going to tell them why.”
“Because it is your fault. Tell them what happened. Tell them about Richard’s wife so they have a place to start. And then tell them what they need to know from our research.”
He remained sitting like he expected me to tell him it was all right.
“Now, Caleb. Now.”
He got up and swiftly left.
I would be calling the RCMP’s detatchment myself. Because once Caleb confessed what he had done he would be arrested for misuse of magic. He would be locked up in a very secure facility where magic wasn’t possible, in solitary confinement for 5-10 years. And I wasn’t sorry about that. Wizards were to blame for a lot of monsters these days. They killed a lot of innocent people. They needed to be punished for it so other wizards knew the fucking protocols where there for a fucking reason. I mean, for God Sakes, vampires!