A/N: O_O I'm so glad I've got the revised chapter 11 done … the last version was an embarrassment to my writing abilities. Do enjoy the new version; it is considerably darker than the former version! xD
-ONE WEEK LATER-
3:35 p.m.
The Death School
Journeyman Class
"Are you sure you want me to teach them the vampire spell? They never listen to me!" I complained to Malistaire. He sighed in annoyance before responding, and I braced myself for a lecture.
"Alex, your mother is ill, and the Journeymen are behind as it is! Dworgyn is only here as a supervisor; he hasn't cast a vampire in years. You're the only one qualified to teach this class. Think of it as training; call it an internship if you'd like, but you need to teach these students!" He spun around and strode out of the school, and I glared at his back.
"What if I don't want to be a teacher?" I muttered. I didn't have time to sulk; the bell was about to ring, and I had to figure out a way to get the students to listen to me long enough to learn vampire. My mind was far away as I pored over Malistaire's teacher plans; Sylvia had looked particularly bad that morning: coughing, shivering, whispering that everything hurt and her head was burning. Malistaire had taken her to the Theurgist Department, leaving me to supervise the Novice class. I'd simply told them to practice their Dark Sprite spells and started pacing back and forth, worrying about my mother. I thought of what she would say. How would she handle the loud, disrespectful Journeymen? She'd put them in their place, that's for sure … but how? Probably a stern look and a few words … that wouldn't work for these particular Journeymen. I glanced at Dworgyn pleadingly, and he grinned, beckoning me closer.
"You are no Theurgist, and so Theurgist methods will not work. If you cannot tell, then show," he whispered in my ear. I grinned. A light bulb had just turned on in my head.
-V-
The bell had just rung, and several late students were wandering in lazily, chatting and ignoring me. When the last one had taken his seat, I tried to remember Malistaire's trick to shut the door by magic. I hadn't practiced the spell much, and so the door wouldn't simply shut, it would … slam.
Every student jumped almost a foot in the air, and I fixed them with my darkest, nastiest glare.
"My mother is very ill, and my father has gone to stay with her. He has left you in my charge, and so you will do as I say," I ordered in a frozen tone. A girl in the front tried to interrupt, but I glared at her. "I hear you are learning the vampire spell today. Is that right?" A few frightened students (a rarity in that particular class) nodded.
One Necromancer leaned back in his chair and called, "What if we don't feel like learning vampire, Alexandra?"
I slowly turned to him. "Well, that's why I'm bringing in a friend to HELP me teach it to you." I drew my brand new cutlass from its scabbard, drew the Death Symbol, and selected the animate card from my deck. A dark, cloudy mass appeared in front of me. "And by the way," I sneered, "You will call me Miss Firesong." A wraith glided out of the cloud, threateningly waving a scythe and hissing at the class. "This is my pet Nightshade, transformed from a small pet into a full-sized wraith. The two of us are going to duel. He will use vampire first, to demonstrate it to you on its own, and I will temporarily give up my Death resistance." I transformed my Legendary outfit into my novice robes, which I magically altered to fit me at age 17. "You will see the vampire cast at its normal strength, and then I will use blades and traps to power up its strength. Observe in silence; the next one to speak duels me, and I will have my resistance back."
Nightshade drew the dueling circle, and I took my place in the sun circle. I passed, waiting as my pet drew the Death Symbol. In the center of the dueling circle, an upright black coffin appeared, swinging open to reveal a vampire's face. The batlike creature swooped out and bit me, dealing exactly 350 damage, and returned 175 health to Nightshade. I began to prepare for my full blown vampire. Death trap, feint and curse. Death blade, dark pact and death prism. Finally, I played two treasure cards (balance blade and spirit blade) and cast my vampire. The blades and traps activated, ending with the death prism, and the vampire dove at Nightshade, dealing more than five times his health. He passed out on the floor before shrinking back to his normal size. I switched my clothes back to normal and cast sacrifice on him, returning him to consciousness. He returned to my backpack.
I glared at the class, fixing the worst troublemakers with a special stare I saved just for them. Ethan Blacksea, the school's famous prankster, got the worst one, and for once, he actually looked scared. "Get out your notebooks and pens, and start taking notes," I told them. "I'll write what you need to know on the bo-" Tap, tap, tap. Someone was at the door to the School. "Correction: Dworgyn will be writing what you need to know on the board. I'll be back in a minute."
As Dworgyn started writing on the blackboard, I made my way down to the door and pulled it open a crack. At the door stood a very out-of-breath, slightly dizzy looking boy in dark green robes.
"Mrs. … Drake … is very … badly off … Malistaire … wants … his daughter … at the … hospital!" He wheezed between gulps of air. My eyes widened.
"Dworgyn, you're in charge! Class, obey him, or I'll sic Nightshade on you when I get back," I called over my shoulder as I ran out the door. "Need a lift back?" I asked the Theurgist. He nodded, so I grabbed his arm and teleported to the Commons. Bat, sensing that I needed a ride, landed in front of me. I gave her the barest of nods as I swung onto her back, dragging the Theurgist with me. "Hospital," I told the dragon. She took off at her fastest pace.
Seconds after we landed in front of the hospital, I was sprinting towards the door, completely ignoring my mount and the Theurgist that had come along.
"Are you here to see Sylvia Drake?" The receptionist asked, looking slightly nervous as I paused in front of her. I nodded. "She's on this floor, room 7. Please wear a mask in there; her cold could be very contag-" I was gone the second the room number had left her lips.
-V-
I grabbed a mask from the box mounted on the wall as I ran towards Sylvia's room, pushed the curtain-covered door open and stepped inside. Three Theurgists with gold trim on their robes (the mark of a Head Theurgist) and an intern in dark green was hurrying around the room in a panicked frenzy, opening cupboards, rifling through drawers, strewing healing Treasure Cards across a desk, trying to find something to help the Life professor. Malistaire was standing not far from the hospital bed, his eyes fixed on his wife, his hands clenched tightly behind him. I could tell that he was trying to appear calm and formal, as usual, but the tension in him was visible, and I could see the deep fear buried deep in his eyes. My father was absolutely terrified.
I took a few steps closer to the bed, staring in shock at the figure that was my mother. I dropped the mask. Her emaciated figure was covered in a too-large blue hospital gown. Sylvia's skin had become a sickly greenish color, and her eyes were shut tightly, her hands lying limp at her sides. There were several needles, tubes and wires hooked up to her, and a monitor over her head showed a weak heartbeat.
"What's going on?" I whispered to the Death professor.
"They don't know," he replied shortly.
The intern Theurgist paused for a moment in front of me. "Her heart rate suddenly dropped about fifteen minutes ago," he informed me. "You and Malistaire were called when she didn't improve at all. Her breathing's gotten very irregular, and her fever has skyrocketed, but most of her body is freezing to the touch. She hasn't opened her eyes since this morning." With that, he returned to the shelf he had been searching. All I could do was watch in fear and beg the Titans not to take her.
-V-
It was ten minutes before something changed drastically-and it wasn't for the better. Sylvia's eyes suddenly shot open, and she gasped something unintelligible. The zigzagged lines showing her heart rate became shorter and closer together, and the temperature reader said "107 degrees."
"What's happening?" I gasped, watching the gruesome scene, unable to take my eyes off Sylvia. The intern didn't even pause to speak to me this time; rather, he shouted to me as he ran back and forth, doing what the older Theurgists told him.
"Emergency! Get out of the way, both of you; other Theurgists will be coming in really soon!" Sure enough, the door slammed open a moment later, and two more Head Theurgists joined the other three. A red and gold robed Pyromancer hurried in, and quickly started trying to draw the heat out of Sylvia's body. A Thaumaturge in white and blue joined him a moment later, and used ice to drop the room's temperature about 15 degrees.
Nothing was helping. Sylvia's temperature went up two more degrees, and her heartbeat only got more irregular and much faster. The Theurgists seemed desperate, and a few of them seemed to be giving up-at least, they looked like they were giving up until Malistaire stepped in. He leaned towards the Theurgists menacingly, and his staff top glowed black.
"Do not give up on her," he growled, narrowing his eyes. They nodded fearfully and doubled their efforts. They got nothing. No results. My mother gave a strangled gasp, gave Malistaire and I a wide-eyed glance, and I guess her heart gave out, because the lines disappeared on the monitor. There was nothing. She was gone, dead, lost forever. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, and a few tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes. I pressed my tightly clenched fist into my mouth, trying so hard not to cry, I almost fell to my knees in the middle of the hospital room. I had to choke back a sob that was desperately trying to escape, and I took several shaky breaths of air, still trying to regain control of myself. I glanced over at Malistaire, and realized that he was faring no better. The professor of Death, one of the strongest, most composed people I knew, was crying. He had a hand pressed over his eyes in an attempt to conceal it, but I could see that his face was wet with tears. My nails dug into my palms as I clenched my fists tighter, and I turned my gaze back to Sylvia's body. Life was going to be surreal and nearly impossible without her.