A/N: Thanks to my beta old ping hai for getting through this slog of a chapter, because seriously it was a beast. I just hope it makes sense. Though generally she'll tell me when it doesn't so I'm going to have to trust her on this one.
Magic. The world is full of it. And while humans can't use it, it still effects your lives in ways you can't possibly imagine. And there are all kinds. I have mentioned the fae and the selkie, but there are djinn and dragons. Well…not so much in England anymore. You kind hunted the dragons to near extinction some time around the middle ages. And of course the djinn are found in the middle east.
As I explained earlier, magic is one of the best ways to hurt us. Cold iron does the job, but only to a point. Like with any weakness inherent in a race, not every member reacts to it the same. You have some where it is merely an irritation like a bug bite and others where the slightest contact is so agonizing that were they touched with it, they would consider dying rather than live with the pain.
But magic? That is different. We can do magic, but we have no defense against it. I hear you ask, how can that be? Your lot makes weapons, guns and their bullets, but you don't have a defense against getting shot. And don't tell me you have bulletproof vests because one, you don't wear them on a daily basis; and two, you have ammunition that can tear through those vests like a hot knife through butter. Nothing is infallible.
I was on patrol when it happened. It was supposed to have been a simple exercise. We were told there were no hostiles in the area. Some days, in my darkest moments, I wonder if we were betrayed.
I was one of two medical personnel on hand, the other was nurse Bill Murray. Until that day I thought he was a human like you. I'm still unsure what he was. I have theories, but that's all they are. I can say that whatever he was, he used his abilities, his magic, his whatever, to save my life.
How, you wonder. Especially after all my talk about it having to be our choice to give up our immortality? It's simple enough, the utter destruction of my physical form. Did you ever wonder where ghosts came from? And it's not as though finding another body is easy. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
We were several miles from base when the sun began to set. Just when it hit the horizon, it blazed, blinding us. And in its final glory came the volley of gun fire.
We sought cover behind rocks and hills, but this was prime ambush territory. Bullets rained down on us as we fought back. Most of what happened is hazy to me, but I can still feel sand on my skin and in my eyes. The taste of copper in my mouth and its acerbic smell burning my nose. My ears ringing from the gun fire and screams. The screaming started as orders and descended into shrieks of pain and agony.
I was running around patching up wounds the best I could. It was too risky to heal out in the field. It required a massive amount of concentration, something that was highly lacking in battle. I just hoped that what little I could do would get the ones we could save back to base so I could work my healing on them.
I don't remember what it was that caught my attention, but just ever so slightly I turned to the right and my left shoulder exploded in extreme anguish. I remember it feeling so unbearable. It felt as though it was leeching into my very soul, tearing it apart. I can't even recall if I screamed. I must have because Bill appeared above me. He began shouting in a language I had never heard before. It sounded old. Older than even the fae. There was a flash of light and then complete and utter blackness.
When I awoke I was told that I had lost too much blood and that because none of my lineage could be found other than my sister, I was being sent back to England for transfusion. You see, like you humans have blood types where you can only receive blood of that type, we have can only be given blood of the same lineage. Far too many of mine had chosen to pass on and there were only a handful of us left. While I was alive (if you could call it that) I was unable to move, and speech was slow and slurred.
The next time I awoke I was on a medical evac. plane on my way back to the land of fog and rain. The flight was long and boring with the mysterious Bill as my only company. He was a scrawny-looking kid with more freckles than there were stars in the sky. His eyes were a dark emerald green. His hair was a fiery red that stuck up in all directions. He didn't look like the type that the army would take, let alone one that could make it through basic training.
My savior was poor company, as he refused to utter more than two words together. Bill kept an eye on me the whole time as if he expected that I would do something foolish if he looked away. It was unnerving.
The only thing I could make out as something other than a grunt was when we landed in Portsmouth. There was a helicopter that would take me the rest of the way to London, and as they were wheeling me out to it, he leaned over and said in a thick Irish accent, "Watch yourself, laddie; there is somethin' coming for ya. Somethin' big and bad. I won't be there the next time you fall."
He vanished from my side before I could ask any questions. When we had taken off I was able to glance out of the window, and there looking up at us flying by was a ginger-furred wolf. I shook my head, and when I looked again the wolf was gone and it was Bill waving good-bye.
A faoladh? Impossible. Werewolves don't exist. Do they?
We reached the hospital where a very drunk Harry was waiting for us. The nurse doing the procedure looked Harry over skeptically before she shrugged and got down to business. As the transfusion went on I got stronger, and Harry became sober.
Out of the blue she said, "You remember Clara?" Of course I remembered Clara, she was the human woman that my sister fell in love with five years ago and married a couple years after that.
"I better remember my sister-in-law," I said, hoping to keep things light.
"Well, she's not anymore," Harry growled.
"She's not what?" My head was still fuzzy from the rush of having blood in my system again.
"Your sister-in-law. We're getting a divorce," Harry's voice had a steely edge to it.
I had progressed to the point where I could move again and I used the opportunity to rub my hand over my face. "Harry…"
"Don't you 'Harry' me. You haven't the right. The bitch had gall to give me an ultimatum. Her or the drink. I mean, who the hell does she think she is? How dare she make me choose. She'll grow old, fat and die and I will remain fair and beautiful forever. She should feel lucky I deigned to stoop to her level in the first place."
The procedure was done and the nurse gave Harry an odd look before she left, taking her equipment with her.
Once I was alone with my sister I hissed, "What is wrong with you? You know not everyone here knows what we are. You were told that when they brought you here. I know they told you."
Harry waved her hand flippantly. "Oh, who cares about that hag. It's not as though she's going to say anything." I gave up then. There was just no talking to her when she gets like this. I was never more grateful then when they escorted her out. I knew there was no turning to her for help when I got released.
After I finished my physio, they sent me to a therapist. Apparently all military personnel had to do a psych eval. upon returning from active duty, and since the lovely government weren't keen on people asking why certain soldiers were exempt, that meant I had to do it, too.
It had been three months since coming back to England, and still I was forced to see my therapist. There seemed to be no end in sight.
"How goes the blog?" Ella asked at our latest appointment.
That god damn blog. It was ridiculous. The thought of that stupid blog made me want to tell her I was a several thousand years old magical being. I wondered briefly what she would do; probably have me sanctioned.
"Yeah, good."
"You haven't written a word, have you?" she pressed.
I indicated her pad with my chin, "You just wrote 'still has trust issues.'"
"And you read my writing upside down. You see what I mean? You're a civilian now and writing what happens to you honestly will help."
"Nothing happens to me."
A/N: part 2 Faoladh. An Irish werewolf. Known for protecting children and wounded soldiers. I just added a wee bit more magic. ;)