Prologue

It seems odd to start a journal now, when I am weak, and there is nothing to record; but I guess that it is just as much for the doctors' benefit as it is my own. It heartens them to see my effort, although they still disapprove of my music; but in my current condition, (and with my godfather around) what else could they say? I'm 17 with a gunshot wound to the chest, a broken leg and collarbone, three cracked ribs and a wrist, plus I'm 'blind'. (I'm also a warlock and a werewolf, but no one knows.) The doctors see me laboring to write, and take pity on me, putting up with what I listen to. The truth is that even though I'm 'blind', I know how to read and write normally. That being because the magic that flows within my veins counteracts the muscle and bone atrophy, as well as the 'blindness' (though not completely) that I inherited from my mother. I can write well, but still put on an act so I don't get caught. (The only thing that I am grateful for - aside from being in a state-of-the-art hospital - is that my godfather is a surgeon here.) I'm not alone. Speak of the devil!

I look over at Terrance, and I see movement on the corner of my eye. 'Great,' I think. 'Here comes another blind spell.' Sure enough, my vision flickers, and a curtain of darkness descends over my eyes. Having been through this before, I think nothing of it, and look back towards where I know he should be. "Dr. Ryder?" I inquire quietly. I smirk, thinking of how the passing nurses would hear me, and consider all the questions I must ask to 'identify' my visitors; as if . . .

"Yes, Seth?" I can hear a tone of laughter in his voice; he must be thinking of the same thing. I lower my voice, and reply, "Close the door, please. " Suddenly, he cuts me off, "Save your strength. You'll need it." My vision flickers just long enough to see him settle into a chair beside me, steeple his fingers and fix me with a gentle gaze. Then I must rely on my sensitive hearing to be my guide. "I won't prevaricate, so I'll tell you straight: The gunshot wound to your chest is extremely severe, and paired with the loss of blood, three cracked ribs, and overall health decline, it makes for a risky combination. We can't sit around and wait any longer, so tonight my team is going to repair some of the damage, and remove the bullet." I close my eyes, laying a hand on my chest; my heartbeat is slow, but still strong despite the bullet lodged deep inside it. I can feel the hum of activity all around me. 'God, this may be the last time that I see this place. I'm only fifteen. So much that I have not seen yet . . .' I think to Terrance.

'I know. But this place is the best special treatment hospital in the state. My coming here, training, made Mesa Vista what it is, and not one person, not one will be turned away. Tonight you will go under the knife, and come out in one piece; that I can promise you.' I sighed; when ever Terrance made a promise to one of his patients that usually meant that they were dying. I already knew that, and so did he.

It was when his patients were dying, however, that he shined. He pulled out all the stops to use his magic. When he did, he could pull even the most reluctant people from the deepest grave.

My vision returns quickly, but suddenly I can't breathe, and my heart is laboring to keep beating. An odd feeling comes over me, and I realize that Terrance had never closed the door. I drop my hand back to my side, looking towards the door. I'm slightly alarmed to see a young nurse walking in. 'Terrance!' I think frantically. He stands and looks at the man just inside the doorway. "So sorry, Grayson, I didn't hear you. Won't you come in? I was just going to look for you. Unfortunately, we need to speak." The man called Grayson enters the room, and automatically, his gaze flicks over to me. "I will converse with you presently, but first I believe that there is an explanation in order." I'm starting to see spots, my legs and hands have fallen asleep. Grayson walks to me, and places his hand upon my forehead. 'At ease, young one, all will be well. I know that you can see and hear me. I ask only a simple task of you: do not tell anyone what I can do, or we both will find trouble. My gift is much the same of Dr. Ryder, but I can manipulate many elements of the human body, and I will do so now. Understood?' A feeling of warmth pervades my body, freeing my heart and breath.

'Alright, what's the catch?'

"No catch, just an act of kindness.' I look at the man, and I see the truth in his eyes. Relaxing a bit, I sit up, blink, and take a deep breath. I look around the room and find Terrance and Grayson talking heatedly, but quietly. This surprises me: Terrance, along with his nimble fingers, has a quick temper and is prone to outbursts. He gestures strongly with one hand, and I see sparks literally fly from his fingertips.

That's the end of the argument; Terrance left standing, clutching his arm to his chest, and Grayson, walking away doing the same. Just as I'm puzzling this over in my mind, a flare of pain runs up my left arm, and I gasp.

When I glance over, Terrance is now standing next to me. "What happened?" Through gritted teeth, I hiss, "I just moved my arm wrong, that's all. It's nothing." Lie. But that was the difference between life and death.

I notice the monitor beside me, and exhale in frustration: my blood pressure is rising, as well as my heat rate and breathing. The wolf blood in my veins was turning. "Terrance, I need you to soundproof the room, draw the shades. Help me out here," I say hoarsely, gesturing to the leads attached to my body. Terrance close both the curtains and the door, then puts his nimble fingers to work, quickly removing and silencing the various pieces of equipment. "Alright, now I need you to go to the farthest corner of the room opposite me, turn around until I say otherwise, ok?" Terrance nods, and complies with my demand.

Standing, I focus on the door, calming my mind, and preparing myself for the change. I start to tremble violently, heat flooding my limbs, and erasing all other concerns. It only takes a moment before I feel cool tile beneath my paws. I shake off, breathing deeply to calm down. "Terrance? You can turn around now." When I turn to look at him, I find him on the floor, cowering on the floor, clutching his arm. I pad over to him, and ask softly, "Are you alright?"

He shakes his head, and whispers, "No. My arm, it burns. I'm sure that the change is near, but my mind denies it . . . I won't last long if I can't change over."
I press my head against his, and suddenly, I see the light of his mind. Deep within, I can see dark spots, blocks inside his persona. I hunt until I see a black spot, thrumming with negative energy, and the song of discord. I push it, shape it with magic until it become nothing and disappears. I can feel Terrance relax, so I back off, and lay down on the cool tile. I flinch when I see Terrance change. He lies next to me, shaking with cold. "Terrance . . ." I manage to say. The change leaves me weak, and exhausted; I only have seconds left before I'm unconscious. Warm darkness enfolds me just as I whisper, "In nomine Patris, et filii et Spiritus Sancti. By the Sign of the Cross, deliver us from our enemies, O Lord, amen."

Chapter one

I awaken to the soft beep of an EKG, and the sound of rain on the roof above me. 'I'm alive? Right, last night did happen, and the operation probably still went as planned.´ I press a hand against my chest, and I feel bandages wrapped several times around my shoulder and my ribs. I can feel that my feet are wrapped as well. I rub a hand across the back of my neck, and my fingers catch on something metallic; I pull on the chain, and see a cross glinting in the light. I lay back, folding one arm behind my head, and stare at the ceiling. What would I do for the rest of the night? It was obviously late, and I was stuck in the hospital bed. Maybe someone was awake.

Terrance? Are you up?' I reach for the warmth of his mind, and find that he's awake. He replies, 'Yeah, I'm here. Are you okay?'

'I'm alright. Did the surgery go well?' This was a question that I was worried that the answer would not be what I thought.

'It did. You responded well to the healing magic that we provided you.'

Terrance pulls away from my mind for a moment, then I feel him touch again, 'I'm in the room next door to you, so you might be able to sneak over. The others put me in here after the surgery because they thought that I looked pale. Can you believe that? Of all the silly things to worry about, it's my skin color. Some one might come down the hallway, so be careful.'

'Got it; I'll be over in a minute.' I sigh, feeling Terrance pulling away again. What was he doing? It seemed that there was something else worrying him.

I shrug the questions back, and sit up. Looking around, I notice that a pair of jeans has been laid on the end of the bed. I stand and put them on, feeling grateful that I don't have to put a shirt over the bandages. I can hear the EKG still beeping, and look around the room; it's there, but I notice - not for the first time - that leads were not used on me.

I realize that instead, they put a wireless bracelet on my left arm. 'Ingenious. That's something else that I didn't know that he'd made. But he still needs to work on the locks.' Smiling, I carefully ease open the door, glancing down the hallway both directions before slipping out, and across to Terrance's room. I open the door just a bit, and Terrance says hoarsely, "Come in. It's alright."

I walk in and sit down carefully in a chair set against the wall. Terrance sighs, and looks me right in the eyes. "They've changed again."

"Yeah, I know. They change a lot, but they shouldn't have because of the surgery." Something comes to mind suddenly, at the mention of change. " I-I . . ." I trail off, not sure of how to pursue the subject on my mind. "I want to know something."

"Shoot. We've both got time. Oh, before you start, I have something that I want to let you know." Terrance's eyes sparkle mischievously. He tries to sit up, but falls back, as if weak.

"Okay. What is it?"

He whispers, "There is a book underneath your bed. I want you to read it later. You're probably wondering why it seems that you have extra bandages, am I right?"

"Yeah."

"You can take the bandage around your chest off, but leave the others on. You'll thank me later. You'll meet someone that can help you with the Change. He's one of the Raiders, so you can trust him."

"What-" Terrance raises his hand, cutting me off. "Don't ask questions about that right now. Just get to the original query."

"Why did they put you in here? There's nothing wrong with you, is there?"

He laughs, and whispers, "No, not really. But the others thought that I was sick, I was so pale . . . After the surgery, I was on my way back down the hall, and I guess that I passed out. I woke up here a little while ago."

"Actually, that isn't what I really wanted to know."

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Why did my father abandon me?" My voice cracks over the few syllables.

Terrance sighs, "He didn't. After your 3rd year, your mother was dying of cancer, and your father had been laid off from work, so he couldn't support both you and your mother. He contacted me, being his best man and all, and asked me if I would take you in. I agreed, and I've raised you ever since. But the last two years were really hard on me, so I asked the sisters at the orphanage if they would look after you. We would never abandon you intentionally."

He paused, breathing a bit labouredly. Then he continued, "Everything that I've done, I've done with the best intentions for you, and considerations of which your father left you in my care, the pact, which we made all those years ago . . ." Terrance struggles for breath for a moment, then lays back upon the pillow, eyes closed.

"Do you feel okay?" I lean over and push the dark curls away from his sweat-soaked forehead, then gasp and pull away; he is hot, burning with fever. I frown, and then pick up his wrist, feeling for a pulse. It takes me a second of listening, and feeling on instinct before I catch it, quick and uneven, pounding through his thin frame. "What ails you? I turn his wrist over again, and I'm shocked to see bruises lining his arm. I brush my fingers over one of them; blood rushes to the surface, turning a small spot bright red, splotched with deep purple.

Setting his arm down, I bury my head in my hands, praying that whatever it was, it would pass, or take him quickly. "Terrance, why didn't you tell them the truth? This, whatever it is, is not 'nothing' God may have mercy on your soul." I whisper. "This is nothing." he says weakly. "It's just the Change. No matter what happens, I want you to promise me something."

"Okay, what?"

He reaches into his shirt, and pulls a rosary from his neck. "Always pray the rosary. It brings peace and understanding. After many years of doubt, I've long made peace with my God. Before it is too late, I suggest that you do the same. Pray the rosary, swear it!"

"I swear it." I say softly.

"You should go . . . But before you do, just in case." He lifts a hand, and I kneel next to him. We lock elbows, and cross each other. We both lift the rosary around our necks, and kiss it, whispering the pray of safety. I feel Terrance's arm go limp; I glance over at him, and an uneasy feeling comes over me as I notice that he's smiling, but he's unconscious. I get up, and look at his vital signs, as recorded by the EKG; not good. His blood pressure is rising, but his heart rate is dropping, rapidly. His breathing is uneven, and shallow; he won't last any long unless something is done.

This resolve firmly planted in my mind, I open the door, and jog a ways down the hall, thinking over and over, 'I make you this promise, Terrance: you will live.' I repeat it like a mantra, matching it with the pounding of my feet racing down the empty corridor. A lone figure looms at the end of the hall, an ominous looking person, getting closer every second. I stop, and place my hands on my knees for a minute, catching my breath. A hand on my shoulder startles me; "Son, are you supposed to be out here?" I stand straight, looking the man in the eyes; it's no surprise when he flinches. "Sir, do you work here? I need you to tell the truth, please."

"Yes, I do. I've worked here for 20 years."

"Good." I say abruptly. "I need your help." When he hesitates, I cry out in frustration, "Ugh! Please, I need your help! Terrance is ill, and he may be dying. Please!"

Mentioning Terrance's name seems to have sparked his interest. "Okay, where is he?"

"Down this way," I say quickly. I start jogging down the hall, and I'm relieved when I hear him following me. Reaching Terrance's door, I push it open, and then drop to my knees in anguish; The EKG has long stopped recording what is not there: Terrance is dead.

"No! Terrance . . ." I sob freely, unashamed of my tears.

"Wait, I may be able to save him, with your help." Shylock whispers.

"With my help? What can I do to help him, I'm-" I started to say.

"I know what you are, and I came to help out. See, even though I left you in Terrance's care, I've never been far behind."

A wave of emotions ran through me; shock, disbelief, then realization and cold anger, all at once. I looked at the man, and whispered, "We can deal with this later; the hour grows cold, and so does Terrance. Focus on him first, deal with the emotions in the morn."

"Alright then, let's get to work." Shylock holds out a hand, but I stand unaided, and then stride over to Terrance's bed. I place my hand upon his forehead, and whisper a number of spells in quick succession. Keeping my eyes on the EKG, I then murmur a prayer over him. Several moments pass without result, but then I see the EKG line quiver, announcing the restarting of his heart.

I lace my hands behind my head as Shylock places his hand on my shoulder. "You did well, Мой сын." My son.

I inhale deeply, not wanting to reply, but wanting to all the same. "Я знаю, но почему, всех времен, вы решили объявить себя?" I ask quietly. I know, but why, of all times now, did you choose to announce yourself? Shylock shrugs and tells me to take a break. "I'll take it from here." I stand my ground, folding my arms over my chest in a gesture of absolute defiance. He may be my father, but he's not my God. He cannot force me to do what I don't want to do; I'm of age, and he knows it. "Let me stay." I feel my pupils dilate, as if someone had shone a light in my eyes; but no, my eyes had changed color. I fix Shylock with a dark gaze, and he flinches. "Alright, stay, but I need you to find someone for me first. There's something . . . I need to say." He finished lamely. "It's hard for me to speak English now. I am sorry that I do not explain g- well." I turn and walk out the door, and down the hallway. It doesn't take long to spot the man lingering at the end of the corridor. "Sir, are you alright?" I hadn't noticed that he was lame, leaning heavily upon a cane. He turned and straightened as he looked at my face. He laughed and said quietly, "Yes. I'm fine. Now, what does he want?"

Shocked, I said quietly, "Sir? Do you mean Shylock?"

"Yes. What did he send you for?"

"He just told me to find a man at eh end of the hallway. I didn't know that it was you specifically. Terrance is dying." I added quietly.

The man walked over to me, and whispered, "Then you best get back to bed. This will be a long night, and it looks like you need sleep. I can help your Godfather, but I need you to stay out of the way, can you do that?"

I sighed but then said, "Yeah. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. Keep us both in your prayers tonight, eh? Sleep well, Seth."

Chapter one: part two