Humans Bite Back
CHAPTER 4: A SLIGHT CASE OF GAS

“Bishop,” her voice was in my ear now. I could feel her warm breath tickle my earlobe. I allowed my eyelids to flutter open, and I could feel the corners of my mouth turn up in a smile.

I gazed up into my mother’s beautiful face, she had the same rosebud lips and pert nose, but as I worked my way up to her eyes, I noticed something strange. I had expected my mother’s eyes to be gazing back at me, but those weren’t her eyes. My mother had distinct irises, the left one bright green and the right one dark brown, but the pair gazing back at me were green, not a hint of brown detected.

The biological urge to be held by my mother remained, and I opened my mouth to wail in objection, but the air that filled my lungs had less vigor behind it, and all I managed was a disappointed moan.

“I’ll get you some water,” my Aunt Finn brushed my hair from my forehead, and then her eyes seemed to lock onto something or someone else in the room. I craned my neck and saw another familiar figure standing at the foot of the bed that I was currently occupying.

He was a handsome figure, with broad shoulders, a square jaw, and dark hair streaked with silver. He had dark, kind, intelligent eyes, and though he had a serious mouth, he broke into a bright smile when he became aware that I was studying him.

“Hi, Dr. Briggs,” I managed once I rediscovered my vocal cords. I struggled to set up. My ribs ached, and my shoulders hurt. I flinched, “Don’t try to sit up just yet; some of your ribs are still healing,” Aunt Finn warned me as she placed a hand on my shoulder and eased me back into my former position.

“I’ll prop you up with pillows.” She offered and immediately began scrounging around the room, searching for pillows to support my neck and shoulder blades.

Once I was situated so that my upper body was upright at an awkward angle, Finn turned to Dr. Briggs, “I am going to bring him some tree bark laced water, if that’s alright?” Finn disappeared from the room once Dr. Briggs gave her a nod of approval.

I could hear Finn, not far off, preparing my drink; Dr. Briggs stood up and leaned over me. “I’m just going to do a quick examination,” he said as he extracted a pen flashlight from his pocket, which he started shining in my eyes, I had to refrain from raising my arm to shield the light.

Without warning, he stripped aside the blankets and began to knock on my knees with a little rubber mallet to check my reflexes; once he was done, he leaned over me and began to examine my ribs with the tips of his fingers.

“Your Aunt Finn asked me to consult,” the wolf explained as he worked. “Though your vitals were fine and you were responsive,” Dr. Briggs moved down to my feet and began squeezing the pads, “You had us worried for a moment there,” he continued in a conversational matter, “We were sure you were slipping away.”

I was shocked by his casual delivery, but I supposed that was what they meant by “bedside manner” because I was not the least alarmed when Dr. Briggs hinted that they had almost lost me.

The feelings I had upon waking were fading, and up until only a few moments ago, I had to fight off the urge to lift my thumb to my lips. Just moments before, I had been convinced that the experience had been real and had wanted to tell Dr. Briggs about it, but now I wasn’t so confident.

As the cloud of confusion began to lift, I suddenly came to the realization that my father wasn’t here, and once, an image of my dad came to mind, the memory of the convention hall and the pact I had made with my friends flooded my brain. I felt a surge of adrenaline, and suddenly, the agony I was feeling disappeared as I suddenly shot up in my bed.

“What happened?” I cried, and though under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have dared seize a wolf by their collar, I was desperate as I yanked Dr. Briggs by the lapels of his white coat. “Where’s my Dad?” I demanded.

I suddenly became aware of my surroundings. I wasn’t home, and nothing around me was familiar. “Where am I? What happened? Where’s my Dad?” I repeated when Dr. Briggs softened; his sympathetic expression told me that something had gone horribly wrong.

“Sorry I took so long,” Aunt Finn said as she entered the room with a steaming mug, “I just thought I would brew you some tea with a little belladonna instead,” she paused when she saw me grasping Dr. Briggs’s collar.

“Is everything alright?” she said, sitting aside the cup and gently started prying my hands free from the doctor’s coat. “It’s alright,” she cooed, “Just relax.”

Though I was still desperate for answers, I allowed her to lure me back into a comfortable position while Dr. Briggs straightened his coat.

“Here you go,” Finn said, still using soothing tones. She reached for the mug on the bedside table and brought the rim of the cup to my lips. Though I still wanted answers, my throat was still dry and the steam rolling off the amber liquid was too tempting.

I grasped the side of the mug and gently allowed the dark liquid to trickle into my mouth. The effects were instantaneous, and though I was greedy for more, Finn withdrew the cup slightly when I attempted to seize it from her hands. “You have to take it easy,” she cautioned.

I relinquished control to Finn, allowing her to nurture me with soothing strokes to the back of my head as she tilted the cup just enough to wet my lips and allow the tea to trickle into my throat. Once my tonsils were thoroughly coated and my tongue no longer felt like sandpaper, I touched upon her arm to signal that I was finished.

Instead of making further demands of Dr. Briggs, I turned to my aunt. “What happened, Aunt Finn?” I queried her, “Why am I here? Where’s Dad?”

Finn lowered herself onto the edge of my bed and cupped my face in both of her hands and began stroking my cheeks with her thumbs; though I knew in my heart that my father was gone, I needed her to say it out loud.

“Oh, honey,” she cried empathetically, “I don’t know how to say this….”

“Say it, please just spit it out,” I silently urged her.

“Your father’s gone,” she finally said, “That is why you’re here. There was an explosion at the convention hall.”

“How did it happen?” hot tears welled up in my eyes but failed to spill from the corner of my eyes, so Finn’s face was a blur when she replied, “They say it was a gas leak, a slow one, but something sat it off, perhaps some candles being lit or faulty wiring….”

I remembered what had been occurring shortly before we had exited the convention hall. “The small sparks,” I whispered.

“Excuse me?” Aunt Finn was Puzzled.

Of course, she had no idea what I was talking about; for witches, conjuring up energy was elemental magic, and most of them caught on shortly after leaving the womb, for warlocks thought, it seems to be the only magic we can manage.

I lifted my fingers and displayed a tiny spark between my thumb and forefinger. Finn tried to hide her amusement as she asked, “Is that what they were doing?”

I nodded, “They were using it to shock each other.”

Finn’s brow creased, and her eyes squinted with anger, “So they sent you kids outside so they could have a shocking war?”

I knew how stupid it sounded, and though I had never participated, I still felt my face flush with embarrassment, “It was a competition,” I muttered. When I saw Finn and Dr. Briggs exchange a quizzical look, I felt as if I needed to say something in the older wizard’s defense, “They didn’t send us out; we went on our own accord, because of the smell.”

The doctor’s eyes lit up with interest at my disclosure, “Can you describe the odor?”

“Burnt hair,” I said flatly, “Bryce’s dad had burned a bit of Amos’s beard.”

Suddenly, I remembered the other boys, “What about Bryce and the others….” I gasped and drew a hand up to my chest, “What about all the little warlocks?”

Finn placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, “They are going to be fine,” she assured me, “Dr. Briggs reported that most had only minor injuries. Unlike you and your friends, the little ones were not in the direct line of the blast,”

I recalled why we had distanced ourselves from the children, and suddenly my heart was flushed with guilt, and I allowed my head to drop so that my chin rested on my chest. This time the tears did come; they rolled down my cheeks, traveled down my jawbone, and soaked the collar of my shirt.

“It’s alright,” Finn resumed her soothing tone as she used the flat of her hand to massage the area in between my shoulder blades, “It’s all going to be alright.”

“It’s OK if you guys think they’re idiots,” I sniffed before being reduced to tears again. I felt a twinge of guilt for calling my father names at a moment like this, though I was in agony over his departure; I was also angry, not at anything he had done in life, but because he had the nerve to leave me.

“It was a good thing that you and the others distanced yourselves from the building,” Dr. Briggs offered once my sobs died down.

“Yeah, that was a good thing,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “Now I get to live out my life as an orphan,” I knew I was projecting, and Dr. Briggs was only trying to comfort me, but I didn’t want comfort at the moment, I wanted to stew in my rage.

Dr. Briggs took no offense; instead, he reached over and gave me a comforting pat on my shoulder. “I am sorry for your loss.”

He then turned and began collecting his things, “I hate to treat and scoot, but am sure I am leaving Bishop in capable hands,”

“I’ll call if I need anything,” Finn told him, then poked her head out into the hallway, “Petra? Petra darling, can you see Dr. Briggs out?”

When there was no response, Finn rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where she has gone,” she told us apologetically; she turned to me, “I’m going to see Dr. Briggs out, but you and I will chat when I return,”

Finn stood aside to allow Dr. Briggs to exit first, and then she trailed along behind him. I heard them exchange a few muffled words. A few moments later, Finn returned and resumed her position next to me on the mattress.

“Do you want some more tea?” she asked, lifting the mug of cooling dark liquid. I nodded, and Finn offered me the cup and observed me as she allowed me to drink independently.

“I know this is a stupid question, but are you alright?” she said after I had finished draining the cup. I nodded and handed my empty cup to her. She clasped it with both hands as she gazed at the tea leaves, “According to the leaves, you are healing as expected,” she commented before setting the cup aside.

“I had a dream about my mother,” I told her, “I had forgotten how much you resembled her.”

“Well, we are twins,” Finn offered, “I suppose that was why your father ran me off; he couldn’t bear to look into my face and see hers,” she paused, “He really did adore your mother,”

I looked at Finn with her bright red hair, asymmetrical face, and bright eyes. She was a handsome woman, much like my mother had been; it was almost comical to imagine someone as attractive as my mother with a man as plain as my father; when I shared this thought with Finn, she chuckled.

“They must have seemed like an odd couple to an outsider,” Finn confessed, “But my sister Flora was a gifted empathy, her ability allowed her to peer into the soul, she must have seen something special in your father.”

I rearranged my pillows so I could sit back comfortably. “Can I ask you a question, you have to promise me you won’t take offense.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep Bishop,” Finn warned me but then gestured for me to proceed.

“If you are such a gifted healer, then why couldn’t you save my mother?” I put forth. Aunt Finn looked pained by my question. I had expected an emotional reaction; that was why I had been so hesitant to ask.

To my aunt’s credit, she recovered swiftly and licked her lips the way I often did when deep in thought. “I hate to use analogies, but the craft is a science; healers are no different than doctors. A doctor is only as capable as his knowledge and instruments.”

“So what were you lacking, knowledge or instruments?” I pressed her.

“Both,” she admitted, “The symptoms often help me determine the root cause of an illness; once I discover the origins of the symptoms, I extract the root cause, and the symptoms disappear, but this wasn’t the case with your mother.”

“What was so difficult about her case?” I asked, “Were the symptoms misleading?”

Finn nodded, “They were inconsistent, but it seemed once I determined the root cause and thought I had finally discovered a cure, several new symptoms would emerge, and then I was chasing a new root cause,” she paused and added, “Dr. Briggs consulted on your mother’s case, and he was equally baffled.”

Finn looked away, seeming distant as she said, “No matter what I did, it was as if the universe was hard-wrought to be rid of her,” she turned to me and admitted, “I think your father held a grudge against me for not saving her,”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” I spat, “It wasn’t like he could have done any better.”

Finn patted my hand, “He was just a man grieving,” she explained, “Losing your mother nearly broke him. I suspect he may have died of a broken heart if he hadn’t had you relying upon him.”

A lump formed in my throat as I was reminded of my father. He had not been a terrible father, but he often struggled; it was as if he didn’t know what he was doing, and I suppose he hadn’t. Perhaps he had been lost without my mother’s guidance.

I didn’t realize that I was crying until Finn offered me a tissue to mop the tears up with; after my face was dry, she turned and disposed of the used Kleenex in the trash bin next to the bed.

“Sorry,” I told her when I was sure that speaking wouldn’t trigger more tears.

“We don’t shame people for expressing emotions, at least not in this house,” Finn told me. “Besides, I would be surprised if you weren’t in tune with your emotional energies; traits are inherited after all.”

“Empathy sounds like a curse, not a gift,” I told her.

Finn shook her head and made a clicking sound with her tongue. “On the contrary, it’s a powerful gift that few witches can master. Being able to gauge a person’s mood, anticipate the atmosphere, and manipulate the elements is an extraordinary tool. It’s what made your mother such a great botanist.”

I thought about all the abandoned flower beds in my yard at home. My father never had much of a green thumb and had not bothered to hire someone to upkeep my mother’s gardens.

“What does empathy have to do with gardening?” I wondered, “Do flowers even have feelings?” Though I had posed the question, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear the answer. It would be terrible to go through life feeling guilty for walking on grass.

“Yes, though they don’t experience emotions the same way you and I do. Their thought process is based on biological need, though some plants are more intelligent than others,” Finn explained.

“I suppose picking and crushing plants must seem like mass murder to you,” I ventured.

Aunt Finn threw back her head and let out a maniacal laugh, and for a moment, I was uncertain of my safety; once her laughter died down, she patted her chest to calm herself.

“Plants don’t have nerve endings,” she explained, “So they don’t feel physical pain like you and me. I suppose if they did, I would have a difficult time formulating and casting.”

Finn paused and placed her hands on her knees as she said, “Imagine if they could feel physical pain? My greenhouse would sound like a house of horrors.”

I understood that she was attempting to be humorous, but her expression still unnerved me a little. She must have seen the discomfort on my face because she quickly changed the subject. “Perhaps you would like to learn some botany magic,” she suggested.

“Warlocks don’t have good luck with conjuring,” I told her, though I never expressed any interest in botany magic; any magic was better than just performing a few parlor tricks with my fingers.

“Empathy is developed, not taught. Once you master empathy, nothing can stop you from performing botany magic,” Finn assured me. “Perhaps we can start tomorrow after we collect some of your things.”

“Collect my things?” I asked her, genuinely confused. Everything had happened so fast that I had not even had time to consider what was going to happen next. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I’m sorry, I just assumed that you would want to come here to live, at least until you finished school….” She paused for a moment, then added, “Of course, it’s entirely up to you.”

I contemplated her offer; though I was approaching adulthood, I still felt very much like a child. I couldn’t imagine living on my own, not yet anyhow; I haven’t even passed all my math classes yet.

The thought of being thrust into adulthood made my head spin and my stomach queasy. I looked at my aunt, feeling genuinely grateful for her.

“I think I would like to stay if it’s not too much of a hassle,” I told her meekly. “I suppose I will need my clothes, and there are some of my mother’s keepsakes that I would like to have.”

“We will need to clean out the fridge, but the furniture can remain until you make a final decision about the house,” Finn told me; when she saw my overwhelmed expression, she patted my hand, “There is no rush,” she assured me, “We will figure it all out in time.”

She stood up then and clapped her hands together, “I’m going to set out some food for Petra. Can I make you a snack or get you anything?”

My stomach was in knots, and I was feeling the effects of the belladonna, “I’m not hungry,” I told her, tossing aside the extra pillows we had used to prop me up into a sitting position, “I think I need more rest.”

“I’ll save you some broth,” she told me, “Perhaps in the morning, you can meet my partner Petra, once she’s human again.”

I opened my mouth to ask what she meant by that but expelled a long yawn instead. “I’ll get the light,” Finn offered, flipping the switch next to the door before she exited the room.

In the darkness, it didn’t take long for the comforting folds of sleep to embrace me, but just as I was about to drift off, a horrible cry coming from outside my window startled me.

The creature’s cry set off a chorus, and soon enough, the room was filled with strange sounds. I was on the cusp of calling out for Finn when the door slammed, and though I didn’t understand the correlation, the sound seemed to put an end to the sounds.

After a few moments, I heard Finn speak in a disapproving tone, “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

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