Benny

Nothing had terrified him more. In his arms laid Beatrice, who was barely breathing, barely warm, barely alive. If only they had protected her in some way, she never would have been on the wrong side in the first place. She wouldn't have had to use so much power in one night. Or maybe he should have been more advanced in his own power, he could have been the one to cast the protection spell as she killed off all the evil spirits. Butno. No such things had occurred and now, she just might die.
Everyone was rushing, they were taking her to his house. All the good vampires, which wasn't much since there was only three, were carrying the non-vamps- Benny, Ethan, and his grandma.

Benny laid her on the couch, gently. Ethan brought covers in from the next room and placed them on her. Brooke felt her pulse after tucking her in, then let out a breath. "She's still here."

"What can we do to save her, Brooke?"

"Any spells?"

"Grandma, help her!"

Everyone was talking at once, shouting at each other. They were practically at each other's throats, trying to get answers from the more experienced magic wielders. All the screaming, it was giving Benny a headache. . . "We won't solve anything by arguing!" His grandma yelled above it all. "Brooke, get me my spell book." The fairy obliged, dashing off like she was a runner in the Olympics. Only this was more important than that.

Brooke came back with a very dusty spell book, one that Benny never had laid his eyes on. "Ah, my book of live-saving spells. Haven't used these since World War II." She commented before flipping threw pages, searching for the right spell. "Here we go. . . A spell to break the death curse of any witch that over uses her powers. . . " Her eyes skimmed the page, then she looked up at the group of scared teenagers and one fairy. "We will all need to recite this spell."

She placed the book on the coffee table, every one gathered around it. "It's strict Latin, although made by warlocks from the 1600s. . . the first settlers from Jamestown. . . It may be hard you to pronounce some of this."

With that said, they begun.

"Misera vita est mihi, et illis proficiat ad dies suos. Non sum operata malum, quia ipsi tantum prospera. Striis et striis pariter operari, ut mors veniat, non permanent. Misera vita est mihi, et illis proficiat ad dies suos." They chanted, glanced at Beatrice multiple times to see if anything happened. Benny was hopefully. So many people chanting something at the same time, it's gotta work, right?
"I'm. . . so cold. . . " Someone mumbled, and the chanting died down as he, they, looked up from the old spell book. Beatrice was alive. Alive and cold. "Someone get her some hot chocolate!" Several people left quickly for the kitchen, leaving Rory, Benny, and Brooke. "What h-happened?" Beatrice asked, shivering. "You killed them all." Brooke said simply. "Where-where's my. . . Where i-is Eileen?" Brooke glanced at Benny and Rory from the sides of her eyes, then frowned at Beatrice. "You. . . You killed her. Your powers. . . They took over and killed her." Tears welled up in her eyes, slow like her heartbeat once was. She made little crying noises and buried herself in the covers. And what was he to do? Now he just felt awkward. He wasn't much help when it came to comforting. But that didn't matter, because Brooke took over, hugging her and telling her sweet nothings. Even Rory was helping out, in his own weird Rory-ish ways. And Benny? He didn't do anything, because he couldn't. He didn't know any of the right things to say. He wished he did.

You guys probably hate me for taking years to update. . . Sorry! I had a rant on my activity about school giving me too much work, and right now I'm procrastinating so that I can update. I also have to do my other story Adventures in New York that I haven't updated in 2 months though I have a lot written for that. . . And my phone broke so I can't update from there, so I have to do it from computer, whoch I think takes me longer and yeah. Imma stop giving excuses. If you like this story and know of someone else who might, comment, favourite, or share it with Santa Claus. Happy early Christmas, if you celebrate it c:

Here's what they were chanting: Bring me the life of this poor soul, and let them prosper for the rest of their days. They have done no evil, for they have only brought good. Witches and warlocks working side by side, this death that may come, we will not abide. Bring me the life of this poor soul, and let them prosper for the rest of their days.

[nezzy]