This is the twenty-second chapter of the serialization novel I am working on, The Magician – < click here to read the other chapters if you missed them or have no idea what this story is about.
Disoriented
Ignace woke in a hospital bed, hooked up to a number of machines, tethered with cords to a handful of apparatus. He stared at the ceiling as one of the machines beeped beside him, blinking a few times as he tried to get his bearings.
He was in pain. He was scared. He was overwhelmed. Most importantly, he felt disoriented.
His eyes darted about as he tried to remember who he was and what was happening. He wasn’t sure where he was. The ceiling was white, illuminated by a fluorescent glow. Voices called over the intercom as people could be heard passing by his room.
He was trapped in more ways than one, causing a sense of panic. Where once he could move, he found only half his body worked. His hands and arms moved freely and according to his mental commands, but his legs remained painfully immobile. Nothing he did seemed to command any movement. His freedom seemed gone.
But something else was gone as well. The magic within him seemed to disappear, leaving him with nothing but emotions that washed over him. There was no color for his moods, nothing to hold on to that felt familiar. That left him with a pain that hurt worse than the physical distress that plagued him.
“Why can’t I feel my legs?” he finally asked one of the sea of faces of medical personnel that constantly seemed to check on him. The question surprised the person he asked, an orderly of some sort. He went to get someone who could help, but never returned.
“Why can’t I feel my legs?” he repeated when a nurse’s assistant entered. She simply checked his vitals and tucked a blanket around him. She looked at him, an expression of pity on her face as she shook her head. He knew he would not get an answer from her.
“The doctor will see you shortly.”
“Why can’t I feel my legs?” he bellowed finally when another person came to check on him.
After several more moments and whispered conversations, he seemed to finally get his answer. One stern-looking woman wearing a resident’s coat responded, her eyes showing little emotion as she spoke wearily.
“Your spine was hit by the bullet, just below the chest. It missed several vital organs but it remains where it is lodged. You are lucky to be alive, Mr. Godding.”
He didn’t feel so lucky. He made sure to tell her so, the rage in his voice devoid of the colorful magic he once could make. He slumped wearily into a helpless spiral of feelings he could not control.
Despite getting close to him before the shooting, Vanessa was mysteriously absent. It was explained to him that since she was one of the few magicians talented enough to undo the bindings of the magic used to enslave Lorenzo’s victims, she was working tirelessly to do so. Law enforcement and the media both praised her efforts as much as they praised Ignace Godding for helping to bring down what amassed to one of the largest rings of human trafficking by magicians in many, many years.
The higher-ups in the police force had come and gone, talking with Ignace when doctors would allow them to. He gave short, curt answers. They attributed his terseness to the pain he had endured and the medication he was on. He left it at that.
Though Vanessa was absent, others had come to check on him. Iago paid his respects, sometimes bringing Ezra or Ophelia and the kids. Maria had come too, bringing the begrudging Alistair and Reginald with her. Thora had introduced herself to her cousin. Kaspar and others from the show came to thank him for helping them and check in on him. But they all came briefly and left almost as quickly, for Ignace was a poor conversationalist in his torment and anger and eventually each visit just felt awkward.
They had cut him out of their lives for so many years he wasn’t sure if he wanted them back in his own life now.
Evelyn seemed to be an ever-present visitor, sitting with her cousin as much as she could. She often brought her own work, in the form of a laptop and a cell phone. She spent hours with both, typing away or working on accounting for her salon while he stared off into space, hiding away in his own thoughts. She never pressed him to speak, nor did she act as if she expected anything from him. She simply waited until he was ready.
One morning, he finally spoke. His voice was full of emotion, something he still could not seem to release as spells.
“I’m trapped here now, just as I was imprisoned by Lorenzo.”
Evelyn shook her head as she put the laptop aside and moved her chair closer to his bedside. She watched him with thoughtfulness and then finally chose her words.
“It’s not the same and you already know it. Get better and you can choose to leave at any time here. I won’t stop you. You already know that.”
“How can I leave when I can’t walk?” he shouted, sitting up with minimal effort as he glared angrily at his cousin.
“You learn how to again!” she shouted back, inwardly pleased to see he was demonstrating some spirit. “Same as you have learned to do everything you’ve ever had to do.”
He fell back against his pillows, closing his eyes to the torrent of pain that flooded him. He grimaced.
“What if I can’t?” he whispered.
A moment later, a nurse appeared, holding some pain medicine, measured to the correct dosage. She injected it into the tubing that wound itself into his arm. She typed something into a device she carried at her waist and wrote a time on the whiteboard before leaving again.
Once she knew the medicine had begun to take effect, Evelyn reached over to grasp her cousin’s hand. She stared into his eyes as she gripped tightly.
“You will heal. And you can leave then. But I want to let you know that you will have a home with me for as long as you want. The family be damned. Alexander’s decree can kick me out too, for all I care.”
He pulled his hand from her grasp, scowling like a petulant child as the smoky gray eyes began to droop, a side effect from the powerful narcotic he had been given.
She was gone when he woke. Remorse filled him at how he treated her, but he had no energy to even try anymore. He felt lost, adrift, and disoriented once more.
Vanessa visited him that evening as he lay in the bed, a scowl on his face as the television blared up on the wall behind her. It was some news show on recast.
“How do you reconcile technology with magic?” was the question the host asked
“Your question implies that those two are mutually exclusive of each other,” the guest speaker replied. “Technology has always worked well with or without magic. Magic just adds a kind of pizazz to the technology.”
He turned to look at her when he realized she was there.
“Finally the hero returns,” he sneered.
“Why do you need to say it like that?” she asked gently, settling into the chair by his bed. She cast a spell that muted the television so she could talk to him. “You are as much a hero as I am.”
He shook his head, his face stormy still.
“I failed again,” he said. “You were brilliant and brave. I managed to do nothing but get shot.”
“You faced your trauma and helped in battle,” she replied. “You went after Lorenzo and didn’t let him get away. Also, were it not for you, I might not have been able to free any of those ensnared. Lorenzo would have stopped me.”
He stared up at the silent screen, an angry scowl on his face. Vanessa knew he was trying to ignore her. She had a feeling she knew why, but she reached for his hand anyway. She was not surprised when he wrenched it from her grasp, though she still felt some disappointment.
“You were just as brilliant and as brave as I was,” she stated. “You protected me when you did not need to. And I will forever be grateful for that.”
She knew he heard her from the twitch of his face, but he continued to stare at the noiseless television, blinking as the machines beeped around him. After a long wait, she realized he was refusing to speak or continue to acknowledge her. He was falling victim to Nestor’s folly once more and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
As she sighed and gathered her things, Vanessa could swear there were tears in her cousin’s eyes.
Click here for the next chapter – Treachery
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction written by K. S. Wood, and thus is copyrighted 2024. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author. All rights reserved.If you enjoyed this chapter, please share it with others. Every other Saturday, there will be a new chapter posted for your reading pleasure. The entire story can be found on this page – The Magician.
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Ok, the doc gave him answers on his legs….but where is his magic? Can the family magic help him heal??? Will he get his magic back? We can’t wait 2 weeks for answers!!!!
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He hasn’t shared his pain with them in that regard yet, so we will have to see.
Three more chapters!!
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