Matter of Life and Death (New Version) ~ Chapter 02

Chapter 2:

~ Brian~

Their house had a cellar. It was more like a bomb shelter, built sometime during world war two. They had picked it specifically for it. Many houses had such shelters underneath them in this village, and some of them were even communicating with each other. They made a perfect escape route.

He dragged Sylva upstairs, making sure they didn’t go through the living room; he couldn’t let her see their mother. He wasn’t sure if he could look at her either. He didn’t want to find out if he could handle it. He told his sister to get a few clothes and get out of there. He went to get some from his own room too. He threw random jeans and tees into an old, mud encrusted backpack, sloppily put on a pair of sneakers and exited. He noticed that he was limping. The pain in his leg was becoming unbearable.

Mom is dead, mom is dead, he kept repeating to himself. He was kind of hoping it would numb him, like it had when his dad had died. It didn’t. They were just three empty words, he was saying over and over again.

Sylva let out a small shriek and Brian forgot all about his leg right away, making a mad dash for her bedroom. A silver figure was hovering above the girl, staring at her with deep piercing eyes and showing her the most disgusting side of being dead. Brian had seen plenty of nasty, and honestly, this dead man was from the worst. He covered Sylva's eyes with his hand to keep her from staring at the patches of cut skin that hung from his face, as he tried to keep back a wave of nausea himself.

Sylva called ghosts Shadow People. It sounded nicer like that somehow. Luisa wasn’t intending to explain to her anything about what she was and what she could do yet. Brian remembered what it was like for himself. When he was young it was simply fascinating, the magickal figures only he could see. As he grew, they began tormenting him and he had to learn the mechanics of the world he was born to live in. Brian refused to have Sylva find that out so young. She could call them Shadow People for as long as she liked.

He forced the dead spirit away. “Go!” he growled. The awful man bared his teeth at him and flung himself through the wall.

Just that moment it occured to Brian that his five-year-old sister couldn’t pack any things on her own, even if the ghost hadn’t tried to give her the scare of her life. He packed a few things for her: shirts and a couple of dresses, pants and her raincoat. In a last minute inspiration he added in a pencil case and a sketchbook. Her favorite blanket would have to stay here. It was ruined, soaked with Brian’s blood.

He picked her up, put the two bags over his shoulder and after a very short stop in Luisa’s bedroom to get the number of her bank account, they were back in the kitchen. He curled the carpet’s corner, revealing the wooden trapdoor. He took a flashlight from the kitchen counter. The steps leading down to the empty cellar were made of bare cement that no-one had bothered to cover with tiles, wood or anything else. Brian had planned to do that after fixing the garden. He looked at them suspiciously. Calling them uneven would be an understatement.

He took a deep breath and went down, each step sending a new shock of pain through his leg. He gritted his teeth and made sure Sylva held on tightly. By the corner on the cellar’s left, was the passage, connecting it to Marta’s home. They couldn’t get out from their own house. As soon as they found his mother’s body they would be on the search for him. But through her house… There were no signs of him being able to get to his aunt’s house if he never got out of his. And not many people knew about the trapdoors and the bomb shelters in town.

Roots and soil had found their way into the sloppily dug tunnel, keeping Brian from moving in a straight course. With his aching leg he got tangled into roots spurting out of the ground, and multiple times he almost slipped on moss or these gross fungi that some people even ate; mushrooms.

After what felt like an hour’s walk through the tunnels, he reached Marta’s cellar. It was different and filled with bags full of dog food. No, his aunt wasn’t a lunatic who liked having dog food for breakfast. Or a dog. It was worse. She was a dog walker. “Mind you, dog trainer,” she’d yell, every time Brian called her that.

“Hey, guys,” she said as the trapdoor opened, too busy taking care of a puppy. “Your mom was here just a few hours ago.”

“I… know…” her nephew agreed, out of breath. He set Sylva down on the floor and she run to check out the little dog. He stopped to take a few deep breaths, gathering strength before trying to push himself up through the opening.

Marta, out of enough dogs to train in this little place, was left with nothing better than running a non-profit kennel for the dogs of the area. She picked up strays from the street, kept them there and found them a house when she could. She had been renting that old barn, which was perfect for the dogs. She had converted the attic into a house and that was where all her things were.

“Oh my!” She stared at Sylva, out of words. Brian hadn’t seen his sister in the lamplight until now. She was stained with red all over. “Wh- what happened?” she stuttered.

“We were attacked. Sylva is alright. It’s not her blood.” Brian’s voice turned cold, emotionless. His aunt set down the puppy to help him out of the trapdoor. “I’m fine,” he muttered, but leaned on her anyway.

“Yeah, I see. Your leg looks wonderful,” she muttered, sarcasm lacing her voice.

Marta led Brian to the nearest seat, a tattered sofa that appeared to have been tortured by dogs mercolessly over and over again. He smirked and rolled up his jeans to inspect the cut more closely. He could see his aunt's awkward stare on the torn flesh of his wound, as she shifted her weight from one foot to another.

“Where’s Luisa? Is she picking things up? Your mother always says she has packed a few things in case of emergency, but she always ends up staying behind to pack more. She never learns!” she rambled nervously, trying to laugh.

“It’s not black. At least it wasn’t their claws,” Brian thought out loud, trying to change the direction this conversation was taking. Sylva's attention had shifted from the puppy to the two of them. Not good.

“So, where is she?” Marta repeated.

“Do you remember what we told you about their claws? If they get you, you’re dead. The wound won’t heal, not even by magick. The blood that drips turns black as the poison spreads all over your body,” Brian continued. She had to get the message at some point, wouldn't she?

“Thank you very much for the reminder, but you’re not answering my question.” She placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot annoyed on the tiled floor, looking uneasily at the dried blood that framed the cut. She looked a little queasy. “Actually, you know what? I think I'll call her and see what's taking so long.”

Brian's eyes narrowed infrustration. Apparently the blond jokes were popular for some reason. Some blondes just made it so easy. Like Marta for instance. He turned his attention to his sister. “Sylva?”

The girl turned look at Brian.

“Please, go and clean your face and hands and get me a towel from the bathroom, can you?”

She nodded and climbed up the stairs to the attic. As soon as she was out of sight, Brian looked his aunt straight in the eyes.

“So? Where is she? Where are we going next? Brian?”

“Will you shut up and pay attention to what I've been trying to very discreetly make obvious for a while now?!” he hissed under his breath.

She looked at him with her big, blue eyes, so innocently that he wanted to smack her in the head to bring her back to the real world. “What are you talking about?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Are you this stupid?!” Brian hissed under his breath. “Stop asking about Mom!” He felt his lips trembling at the last word, and he looked down, trying to regain his cold demeanor.

“What?” Marta breathed out the word, so quietly that Brian couldn’t tell if she’d really spoken.

Brian sighed and sucked in a breath, which turned to a hiss as his leg started bleeding worse and burned at the touch of the rough jeans against it. “She's not going to join us, Marta,” Brian said with a grave look on his face.

Marta's expression changed into something Brian didn't quite understand. Then he saw her eyes water. That he could understand. Feeling his lower lip trembling again, he looked down, trying to recompose himself. Where was his insensitivity when he needed it?

“No!” Marta yelled, and Brian wanted to get up and shut her mouth. He'd done such a good job of keeping Sylva from figuring out what had happened and he couldn't let his aunt ruin it all.

“Will you be quiet?!” he demanded, his voice cold, bare of any emotion. “Sylva doesn't know about this. And it should stay that way.”

A sob shook Marta's body, and her face was turning a bright shade of red. “I...what are you talking about? How can she not...? Luisa is...and you can't hide that from her!” She knew better than to yell, but her eyes were looking at him accusingly anyway.

“Can't I?” Brian asked calmly. “Well, watch me!”

“You...” she started, probably prepared to say all sorts of insulting things to him, but stopped, the words stuck at her throat. She swallowed back a sob, brushed an arm over her crying eyes and straightened her back. She focused on the bleeding wound on Brian's leg instead. “This needs stitches,” she said, sounding more composed than she felt.

“Oh, since when did you become a doctor?” Brian snarled.

Without another word, Marta left, headed over to a counter and retrieved a first aid kit from a cupboard. She made her way back with her feet stomping and her lips turned into a thin line, as if she tried nit to burst into tears again. She pulled a bottle of Betadine out of the kit, soaked some cotton with in and pressed it against his leg. Brian let out an angry hiss and clutched the arm of the sofa to keep himself from jerking away.

“That hurts,” he growled.

“If you have a better idea, I'd be happy to hear it. Oh, maybe I've got one! Let's let your leg get infected, rot and fall off, huh? And I won't have to waste my bandages on you that way. It's not like you're gonna need the leg much anyway.” With that, she pressed the cotton against his leg harder, probably on purpose, and removed it, making it sting even worse as air made contact.

“You're not even funny,” Brian managed between gritted teeth.

Just at that moment, Sylva came down the stairs to the attic, her little feet barely making a sound. With a wide smile she handed over her brother a small white towel. Brian ruffled her hair and placed a kiss on her forehead. For a second, all his roughness was gone. “Thank you, baby girl.”

“I'm not a baby!” Sylva exclaimed, giggling.

Marta was focusing on wrapping Brian's leg with bandages and was done before he had the chance to send another snappy comment her way. “You're ready,” she muttered and shut the first aid kit with a loud, angry thud.

“Okay, good.” He placed a hand on the back of the sofa, looking for support as he pushed himself up. Stabs of pain shot through his leg but he only winced and kept quiet. “Sylva, we're leaving.”

“What?!” Marta yelled. “You can't be serious.”

“Do I look like I'm joking?”

Marta looked at him sternly. “You're not going anywhere.”

“Wanna bet?!” he snapped at her, and went to pick up Sylva. A small but firm hand kept him from lifting the girl off the ground. “What are you doing?”

Something had changed in his aunt's expression. She looked in control...she looked like an adult. “The door is open for you to go wherever uou wish. Sylva though, will stay with me.”

“What are you talking about?” He tried to keep his voice as controlled as possible. He was on the verge of snapping at her.

“I am Sylva's legal guardian in case Luisa...” She paused, looking for the right words to use so that the little girl, who was paying close attention to both of them, wouldn't realise her mother was dead. So Marta did listen to him after all. “Anyway, isn’t around for some reason. Like now.” She rubbed her niece's shoulder gently. “We’ll be spending some time together, huh?”

Sylva gave Marta a wide smile and turned to look at Brian. Confusion and frustration were struggling for dominance on his face. “I don't understand what you're getting at.”

“I'll be very clear about this, and I'm saying this only once. Sylva doesn't go anywhere alone with you, or I’ll call the police and report her kidnapping.”

Brian's eyes grew huge from shock. “You wouldn't!”

Sylva glanced up at them confused, but soon enough, the little puppy came to lick her hand and she run after it, chasing it around the barn.

Marta approached Brian dangerously. “Look, you're not the only one who cares about her. But with her mother...gone, I'm not letting you take her and run off in the wild on your own! You're just a child yourself!”

“I. Am. Not. A. Child,” he growled. “And there's absolutely no way she’ll stay here. They're going to look again. They’ll find her, kill you and then take her. I'm not going to let that happen.”

“Then I guess you'll have to take me with you.”

Brian made an odd sound, which Marta soon realized that was bitter laughter. “You? And what are you supposed to do with us? You're no necromancer!” Somehow, the gene had skipped his aunt. They came from an old, pure-blooded Necromancer family, so it was more than a little unusual. But it was a fact. Marta was hundred percent human.

“No. Maybe I’m not.” Her eyes glowed with something… Hurt. Hurt because Brian rejected her. Didn’t she get it? He don’t have time to be nice at such times! Or when it came to him…at no times. “Sylva is staying. Or you take both of us with you.” The point was to get Sylva away, not himself. It would take them weeks to spot him. But so much fresh and uncontrollable power like Sylva’s was easy to be sensed from miles away. “But what do you suggest that I do even if you two go? Suppose you manage to drive in the state you’re in, should I make some tea and sit while waiting for them to get to me? Right.”

She was right. Of course she was. He couldn’t leave her behind either. They’d kill her for sure. He may not be on the best terms with Marta, but he most certainly didn’t want her dead. “Fine. If you get killed, it won’t be my fault.” She gasped and gave him a strict look. “I had to give you fair warning. Don’t hold me responsible for what you caused yourself.”

“I don’t know where you got all that insensibility from.”

“Maybe my dad. You know, the guy mom was married to and gave us up as soon as he realized what we were?”

Marta liked his dad. She thought he was the right guy for Luisa. She held on to her belief until he freaked and ran off. As a matter of fact, Brian was pretty sure it was Marta’s idea that his mom told his dad about the whole Necromancer thing. His aunt’s lips became a thin straight line and she gave him a cold look. Under normal circumstances, he was slightly nicer and she was more tolerant. Aware of the pain in his leg now, he wasn’t really in the mood to be nice and keep his manners in check. “But we have to go. Now.”

“Absolutely not. Sit,” she commanded. She pushed his shoulder gently, and he felt his knees buckle, dropping him on the sofa behind him. It was only the tension keeping him standing and he knew it. What would happen when the adrenaline rush went away?

“Are you serious? Give me the car keys, we have to go!”

“We aren’t going anywhere tonight. They won’t strike again tonight, will they? If you and Sylva got to escape, L-l-l…” Marta’s voice trembled, but she swallowed back her tears and continued. “Luisa must have pushed them off for the time. That gives us a little longer to prepare ourselves.”

Brian held back the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s not just them. With the B-O-D-Y in the house, the police will start looking, at least for Sylva and me. We can’t be here when they do!”

“There’s absolutely no way they’ll realize something is wrong at least until dawn. And you’re a bad mess. You can’t even stand. How far do you suppose you can go like this?”

Brian shook his head. Honestly? He had no idea. He hoped he’d take Marta’s car, drive up to a point. Spend the rest of the night at some shabby Rooms-To-Let sort of place. Then they’d go to the train station. He rubbed his face tiredly. “I wouldn’t have to drive too much. We’re leaving the country.”

“What?!” Marta squeaked. “Will you stop dropping bombs like this and finally tell me the whole plan? Where are we going?”

Brian massaged his temples, trying to keep away the headache that was creeping up to him. It was probably because of the loss of blood. “Well, considering we’re already in Macedonia, and taking a plane from the airport at Thessaloniki will leave our flight data as traces, I think Bulgaria is the best option.”

“B-b-bulgaria?” she stuttered.

Brian nodded wearily. “You speak Bulgarian flawlessly. I know some. Sylva is still young, she’ll be a quick study. And you know how the checks are at the borders. They barely check the passports or ID’s. They won’t even remember we went through.”

“But…” Marta stopped, letting out a big sigh. “You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”

“All I’ve thought through is that we can take the train to Blagoevgrad. It’s a nine hour ride from Thessaloniki.”

“And then?” Marta insisted.

“I suppose you’ll walk dogs, I’ll find something else to do. We keep quiet, try to make a life, like we’ve been doing so far.” He got up, the nerves being too much for him to sit still. Pain shot through him the moment he put weight on his leg, but he didn’t intend to let Marta see that.

“Brian. Sit. Now,” she ordered, weighting him carefully.

He groaned and limped to the closest chair. “Don’t boss me around!”

“Why? Are you going to leave? Because I know you won’t, so don’t threaten me.”

Now that he was sitting, sinking in the old pillows of the sofa, and the exhaustion and the pain were taking over, he started to feel what energy was left in him slipping away and wondered how much longer he could remain conscious. What used to be a trace of dizziness had turned into a huge headache. His whole head throbbed as he tried to get his bearings.

The silver smoky figures danced before his sight, their eyes glowing blue, green and brown like precious gems. They all stared at him, wanting the same. To touch some life. Some of the real world. He couldn’t give it to them though. Not that he wanted to. The matters of the dead were none of his business. What he had to do was hold on to his own life; and to keep his sister alive. In the shadows, he knew that his mom and dad must have been somewhere; maybe they had something to say, maybe not.

Brian had been seeing his dad a lot since they killed him. He never let him tell him whatever it was he wanted. He still didn’t. As said, the matters of the dead were none of his business. Just like he wouldn’t get involved with his mother now that she was gone as well. She was free to enjoy afterlife, she had to leave him struggle here alone. It was their way. She used to know it better than everyone. They had no choice about it.

“Brian. Brian, can you hear me?” Marta’s voice brought him back from his thoughts and he tried to focus. He lifted his head and looked at her. “You need to lie down.”

“I’m fine. We need to leave,” Brian insisted.

“We went over this already. You spend the night here. Come.” She tried to help him stand up but he moved away. Marta looked at her nephew, but took a few steps back, giving him space to try and stand on his own. To his disappointment, he couldn’t. After a couple of swaying steps, he leaned on her and she helped him walk up the stairs to the attic, and from there to the small bed by the wall. “That leg wouldn’t even get you out the door,” she said.

I opened my mouth to tell her something, but that something never came.

“Shhh. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

“Where are you going to sleep?” he managed to get out, although he was already making himself comfortable under the covers.

“You need the bed more than me. I’ll take the couch downstairs.”

He gave her a brief nod before closing his eyes. He sunk into unconsciousness soon. In his sleep, he felt Sylva crawling under the covers with him and curling under his arm. The warmth pulsating from her body was comforting. She was lucky. So much energy, uncontrollable and unfocused, didn’t attract the dead…yet. She could sleep quietly. As soon as she learned how to focus and concentrate her power, she’d have the same problem as Brian.

He hated when he had to sleep. For a period of time, he had tried consuming excessive amounts of caffeine in hopes he wouldn’t need sleep at all, but in week number two, he had hit his breaking point. For necromancers sleep wasn’t like it was for humans. Honestly, for Brian, nothing was easy. The only time he’d feel no pain would probably be when he’d die. He got that thought a lot. But of course, he couldn’t die yet; he had to keep Sylva safe.

The ghosts didn’t leave him when he slept, they kept showing up, pushing themselves into his messy dreams, trying to trick him in disguises of people I knew, trying to touch his heart for a few seconds, to feel the warmth of life. The dead were such a pain. Today, even more than the usual bunch had gathered, thinking that catching him at a moment of vulnerability would give them a better chance. He dismissed them one by one, until the time came that he had to wake up again and face the cruel world of the living. Honestly, why wasn’t there a separate world for the necromancers? It would have made his life so much easier!

The morning light hit his eyes, causing him to squeeze them tightly together and press the pillow over his head, groaning in dismay. As he began remembering everything that took place last night, an ever-growing need to get up overtook him. When the real reason everything had happened last night hit him, he threw himself off the bed, only to end up off balance due to his stupid, injured leg and ended up with his cheek against the floor.

“Woof!” One of Marta’s dogs sniffed Brian and licked his nose. A growl escaped his throat and the puppy rushed away scared.

“Scaring puppies now, Brian? That’s not nice.” As the boy looked up, and quickly lifted his body from the ground, he saw Marta standing by the bed, arms crossed, and an unreadable expression on her face.

“Cut it out. You know that because of you, I never managed to get away in time. And today it’s too late, they’ll have found her body and they’ll be looking all over the place for us!” he snapped at her.

Sylva stirred in the bed and looked at her brother sleepily with her big eyes. The color, this haunting silver, would remind him forever what I didn’t manage to do; keep his mom alive. This silver would remind him every day why he had to keep myself alive. To keep Sylva alive. Because her life mattered more than anyone’s; even his own. And if he had to die defending her, so be it. “What body? Whewe’s momma?”

“She…Sylva, we’ll find mom later.” A lot later hopefully. “I’ll explain it all to you at some point, but for the time being, we need to get away from here. Mom will meet up with us later.”

Marta gave Brian an accusing look. She hated dishonesty; she couldn’t understand how bad it would be if Sylva became even more upset. It was vital to keep her emotions at bay; he couldn’t have this gigantic ticking bomb roaming around along with him. She had to be kept stable. She had to be kept calm. For the time being, he had to shut up. He shrugged and as Sylva sank her little head in the pillow again, he placed a finger over his lips, motioning for Marta to keep quiet. Relatives or not, humans had no clue what a Necromancer’s life were about.

“Just so you know, I visited the bank last night, while you were dead to the world. I got as much as I could. It’s in your bag already.”

“Oh. Thanks. I...appreciate it…thanks.”

“You may lack that same sensibility chip your dad did, but you’re still my nephew. That’s the least I can do for you. It is what your mother would have expected me to do. How’s the leg?”

“I’m going to walk like I’m a wrecked fifty-year-old soldier who served in Vietnam for the next few weeks, but other than that…great! Thanks for reminding me.”

“Still a jerk.” She sighed, but he could see a faint smile on her face. Luisa’s ghost was floating around her, piercing silver eyes looking at Brian over Marta’s shoulder.

For now and only now, he thought, he could break my rules about not mixing the world of the dead and the living and mention his mom. “She’s right behind you, you know. Better be nice to her son.”

Marta snorted. “Cute necromancer humor.”

“Cute…Only to you. But…she’s really there.”

“Thought you weren’t allowed to talk about the…deceased. Isn’t it like medical confidentiality or something? What you learn stays between you and them…? That’s how Luisa used to tell it.” His mom used to simplify things and use human terms for her sister to understand her world. It was pretty hilarious actually.

“Yeah, sort of. Thought you may want to know though. I think I can overlook the rules for once. It’s not like I’m trying to talk to them or anything.”

She nodded in understanding. Luisa appeared to make some motion, he was supposed to notice, but instead he averted his eyes, trying to focus on my aunt’s blond locks. She had fair skin like his mom, which reminded Brian of porcelain dolls, and aqua blue eyes. Brian’s were silver, like his mom’s and Sylva’s, but if you looked at them in the light they resembled Marta’s a little. The similarities between them were obvious, same facial structure, the same straight nose and almond-shaped eyes. He was way more fit than anybody else in the family though; it was odd how he was the only one who had the brains to think that since they were on the run constantly they had to be in condition to run.

“Thank you,” she said after a long pause of silence. “So where are you going? Can you drive with that leg?”

“We can’t drive too far or they’ll notice the car. It would be better if you get us to the train station and we’ll use public transport from there.  Easier to blend in.”

“What? So being on a train that won’t reach its destination after six hours if not more have passed is safer than a car? If they follow us in the train? Won’t we be trapped?”

He shook his head, a grim laughter escaping his chest. “They hate constant, long rides. They feel trapped. They won’t try using the train, even if it were to catch us. That is their disadvantage. They take care of themselves more than their plans. We’re using that for our own profit. How do you think mom escaped them for this long?”

“And yet, look where she ended up,” Marta said gloomily.

“We all end up there eventually. Don’t forget that.”

“Alright, grams.” Marta laughed. She always teased her sister and him when they spoke like that. She thought they were doing it on purpose, trying to play it all wise and Zen, or something.

“We need to get going soon.”

“Let her sleep a little longer. It’s been a long night,” she said gently. She looked at Sylva affectionately, the way his mom used to. He knew that she felt it was her duty to take care of his little sister, but he couldn’t let her come with them. He may have given in last night, but he was hurt and exhausted and not in his right state of mind. She was human! She’d be dead before he could say necromancer.

“Don’t even think about asking.”

“Why?” she moaned.

How well did I know my aunt! “No. Just no. And you know very well why. It will be hard enough protecting Sylva, who can essentially protect herself, but just doesn’t know it yet.  But you…I can’t protect you both.”

“You’re such a buzz killer, Brian. You know, your father was left unprotected with full knowledge about your kind, and look where he is now.”

“We all go there eventually,” he said again.

“Is it that bad that I don’t want to go there this soon? I believe I still have plenty of years to live. It’s not that I have fear of death, but…you know.”

She had a pretty strong point there. It would be mean if he left her here, in her fate, which was probably exactly that, her death, if they hadn’t left town yet. Brian buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I got myself into this. Why didn’t I just walk out the front door? I’d be miles away by now.”

“Is that a yes?” she asked, hands on her hips and leaning against the door frame smiling.

Brian clenched my teeth, not wanting to let the words escape that he would say yet. “Yes. You’re coming with us. For Sylva’s sake…but know this…you will learn to fight.”

“Going to get my stuff, be right back.”

“You got them ready already?”

“Always had a suitcase ready, just in case.”

“Hurry, we’re leaving right away. Sylva can sleep on the train; we’re getting a cabin with bunks.”

“So we’re going to Blagoevgrad?” she asked, struggling with her suitcase. He didn’t bother getting up to help her. A: his leg hurt like hell and B: nobody told her to carry that much with her.

He muttered something under his breath. “Dammit, didn’t I tell you again last night? Forgot already, old lady?”

Marta frowned and gave him a scolding look, her hands on her hips. “Whatever, I was just making sure. You keep changing your mind over…well, everything! Words are wind and they get blown away as soon as you let them out of your mouth.”

“Just shut it and bring your stuff here already. We need to get going. And from the moment we set foot in that town, I need to start planning our escape to the next.” He glared at Marta as she left her suitcase at the base of the stairs and came back up, the first aid kit in hand. She knelt down, beginning to unwrap the bandages. “I’m fine, let it go.”

“Oh, sure. You keep it like that. It’s not too late to get gangrene yet after all. I can still spare my bandages.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I am beginning to doubt the sensibility chip I don’t have is because of dad’s genes. You and I are alike in more ways than you think.”

“The only thing we two share is our last name and the undying love and need to protect that sleeping angel,” she said as she pointed to Sylva then stripped the bloody bandages from my ankle, and not gently by any means. Brian clutched his teeth together and let out a hiss, making a mental note to return the favor if she ever got hurt in the future.

“Glad a knife did it. If their claws had gotten it, my leg would have been completely useless by now,” he said. The fact that the blood oozing from the gash on his ankle was red and not black was a bit of a comfort.

 “Why don’t you do that Abra Kadabra of yours and heal it?”

“Because I need my powers in case a real emergency arises. Besides, it is way more power-consuming to heal myself than to heal others. And healing isn’t my specialty. Binding my own body for such minor reasons with that kind of magic is plain stupid,” he explained. It was annoying how he had to remind her about the rules of the necromancer world; why didn’t she get an instruction booklet or something? She could start with Necromancers 101. Gah!

“You know, sometimes I think that your magic is completely useless.”

“Hey!” Brian exclaimed.

“Seriously, what’s the use of being able to do all this cool stuff if you have so many restrictions?”

Brian sucked a deep breath and held back a hiss as she put Betadine on the wound and wrapped new bandages around his leg. The gash was deeper than he had realized, but he chose not to comment on it. “Really wanna know what’s the use? Well, I can just keep mentioning how cool the things I can do are, just to make simple humans like you miserable.”