Tuesday with the Tennysons
Ben looks down at Charmcaster, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, what's she doing here? We already dealt with baddies once today. Don't we have like, a limit or something?" He glances up at his grandfather, unsure how to proceed with an already incapacitated foe.
Kneeling down to check her condition, Max responds, "I don't know what she's doing here, but whatever it is, she's not doing well. More than that, if she came to us for help, it must be pretty serious. We ought to bring her back to the Rustbucket and sort things out."
"What?! Why?" Gwen asks incredulously. "Can't we just turn her over to the police?"
"If it's something dangerous enough to bring a magician down like this, I don't think the local authorities will be able to handle it. Magic is something even the plumbers have trouble dealing with from time to time," Grandpa max replies, stroking his chin. "Judging from her condition, she must have been like this for at least a few days now."
"Ugh, why do we always have to be the ones to deal with the weird stuff? I can't even have a weird day without it getting weirded out!" Ben complains, throwing his hands in the air.
"Sorry Ben, but our dinner celebration will have to wait. Things just got busy again," Grandpa Max apologizes, picking up Charmcaster and throwing one of her arms over his shoulder.
Ben smiles, and with fake disappointment says, "That's ok, Grandpa. Maybe another time." Quietly to himself, he winces, "Or maybe never, blegh."
Back at the RV, Grandpa Max sets Charmcaster down on one of the beds in the back of the vehicle, as Ben and Gwen watch with curiosity.
Ben picks up one of Charmcaster's hands, and lets it drop back down. "Wow, she must have been messing with something crazy this time. I can't tell if she's sick or got beat up," Ben says. With mild concern in his voice, he deadpans, "She looks like crap."
"Watch your language, Ben," Max starts, "But you're right, this is no ordinary sickness. Not like any I've seen before, at least." He folds his arms and rests his chin on his thumb and forefinger.
"Whatever it is, she didn't do it to herself. She's better than that," Gwen says in a pensive tone. Her eyebrows drawn together and a deep-set frown on her face, she remarks with a dark voice, "She's too smart for it to blow up in her face this bad."
Ben looks at Gwen with a mischievous look and teases, "What are you, the president of her fan club? I thought you hated her guts." He laughs lightly when she gives him a dirty look.
"No, I'm not part of her fan club, twig-brain. She's my nemesis. I know how she thinks. She wouldn't take a risk like this." Gwen ends her thought with less anger in her eyes, more confused about what's going on. "Whatever she was tampering with, it must have been really important to her."
"Either that, or it wasn't her who did it."
The two kids look at their grandfather with confused looks. "What do you mean, Grandpa? You think she actually was beat up?" Ben asks, surprised.
Grandpa Max looks down at the two, and explains, "Charmcaster isn't the only magic user we've faced so far, and far from the only magic user out there. Who knows who caused this, she no doubt has enemies. Hex and Charmcaster weren't on good terms last we saw them. Her uncle isn't the nicest fellow, maybe he went after her."
Ben looks back at Charmcaster and says somberly, "Maybe… Family wouldn't turn on each other like that, right?"
Grandpa Max replies with a sullen look on his face, "Some families aren't as nice as ours, Ben." Looking at the clock, his expression returns to his jolly old self. "Looks like it's about supper time. We might not have gotten the pig's snout I was looking for, but I did find some great foods for us all to try. Come, you two are going to love these new flavors!" Max says warmly.
Ben and Gwen say almost immediately, as well as in unison, "No thanks, We're not hungry."
"I think it's time for bed anyways, don't you think?" Gwen quickly comments, trying for an excuse.
"Yeah, it's late and-" Ben stops his agreement to look at his bed.
"What is it, Ben?" Grandpa Max asks.
"Uh, Charmcaster is in my bed. Can I have help getting her out or something?"
Max sighs, before letting the eleven-year-old know, "No can do, kiddo. She needs it more than you. You can sleep on one of the couches for tonight."
"Aw, what? Come on, she's a villain! We're already doing her a favor by not throwing her in jail, now she gets my bed too?" Ben gestures with both arms dramatically at Charmcaster. "Can't she just have the couch?"
"If you were in that rough of shape, wouldn't you rather sleep in a bed?" Max states, smiling as he already knows Ben's answer.
"Yeah…" Ben grumbles, and schleps over to the couch. He mutters to himself, "Stupid couch. Stupid witch, getting beat up by… something. Stupid weird day, and it's weirdness. Grrr…" At this point, his grumbling ceases to be legible, but continues for a good half hour.
The following morning begins without any fanfare. Gwen awakes and looks at her clock.
"7:30 AM, right on the dot. This vacation may take a lot from me, but it won't take my well-kept sleep schedule." Rolling out of her bunk, she turns to check if Ben is awake as well, even if he's rarely been up so early before.
"Rise and shine, doofus. Get up, I want to get going." She tugs the blankets off his bed but stops part way through.
"Oh! Uh, sorry…" Gwen quickly apologizes, finding Charmcaster in the bed she was emptying. Despite Gwen's actions, Charmcaster remains asleep, simply tugging gently back on the blanket, frowning, and trembling at the cold air.
"Geez, heavy sleeper," Gwen wonders aloud. Charmcaster was always ever alert, and getting he drop on her took careful planning. A heavy sleeper she was not, but whatever has her under the weather is making her just so.
"Apparently," Ben snidely remarks.
"Gah! When'd you get up?" Gwen gasps, jumping slightly at the surprise. She turns to face her cousin, now standing behind her. He rubs his head lazily and yawns in her face.
"What's up?" He scratches his nose and snorts loudly.
Gwen chastises, "Don't startle me like that. Since when can you move around all quiet? You're the clumsiest dork on the planet."
"What about anything I just did was quiet?" He sticks his tongue out at her. "Maybe you need a hearing aid?" he sasses. He calms down for a second when he looks over her shoulder at the girl in his bed, before his irritations returns, but no longer at his cousin. "So, it wasn't a dream, great. Think Gramps'll be mad if I wake her up? I want my bed back."
Gwen scoffs, but smiles. "Yeah, he'd be mad. I wouldn't though, I didn't want to bring her along in the first place." She crosses her arms over her chest.
Charmcaster stirs awake anyways despite their uncertainty. She groans, slowly sitting up and rubbing her eyes, looking almost serene in her post-slumber state. Blinking a few times, her brow furrows, quickly losing any serenity it had just moments ago. "Where… What in Bezel…" She turns to face the two children before her, both frozen in place watching her. Charmcaster's eyes growing wide in confusion. "What are you doing here?!" she cries out.
Ben reacts first, barking out, "What are we doing here, what're you doing here?" Ben jabs a finger at her. "This is our RV! We've been here, like, all summer!" He spreads his arms out wide to emphasize his point, accidentally smacking Gwen in the face as he does.
"Ow! Watch it, Ben!" Gwen rubs her nose, glaring at Ben.
"Uh, my bad." He says sheepishly, lowing his arms a tad. "Anyways, Charmy, you're in the Rustbucket. More importantly, my bed. I want it back. Sleeping on the couch sucks." He points back at the couch where he slept, blankets strewn wildly.
"Wow, you made that big off a mess on the couch already? I'd be impressed if it were anyone else, but…" Gwen trails off, casting a sideling glance at Ben while she takes in the devastated bedding.
"It's a gift," Ben says matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders.
"Are you two always like this?" Charmcaster asks, taking in the scene playing out in front of her. Her eyes dart between Ben, Gwen, and the bed, trying to make sense of their dynamic.
"Always like what?" "What do you mean by that?" Ben and Gwen say respectively, and in unison.
"Uh-huh…" Charmcaster replies absentmindedly. She always figured they were just antsy on the battlefield, not that they maintained that chemistry, or lack thereof, all the time. That must be exhausting, how do they have the energy for it?
From outside the vehicle, Grandpa Max calls out breakfast. "Ben! Gwen! Chow time. Come get it while it's still warm."
"Coming, Grandpa!" Gwen calls back, heading out of the RV. She turns to face Ben before she leaves, stopping to say, "I'll let you know if it's edible." She exits, stoic as can be.
"Thanks, I owe you one," Ben comments, thinking it may come back to bite him. "But I don't owe you that much!" he clarifies, hoping to fix his error.
"Only as much as it hurts to eat it!" Gwen says sweetly, Sending a shiver down Ben's spine.
"I sure hope Grandpa went easy on us this time." Ben turns back to Charmcaster, and cocks his head to the side, towards the door. "Uh, breakfast? You look like you need it." Ben quickly adds to his query, "You know, with you being sick, or whatever."
She turns her head away, before giving her gloomy reply. "It's not sickness." Hoarse and choppy, the words and the way they sound are at odds with one another.
"Well, what is it then?"
She doesn't respond, choosing to look down at her knees, her eyes glazing over in memory.
Lacking any sort of tact, as is the norm, Ben presses onwards with his interrogation. "Uh, Earth to witchy-witch, what's got you all strung out? Some sorta turbo-flu? Don't go puking on my sheets." Waving his hand in front her face, Ben raises an eyebrow. "Come on, just tell me already."
Before Charmcaster can respond, Gwen steps into their humble abode cheerfully, proclaiming, "Great news, it's not crazy Grandpa food! We've got Pop-Tarts! Grandpa heated them by the fire, to make it outdoorsy." Her cheer spreads to Ben instantly, and he forgets his questioning.
Excited, Ben jumps out the RV following Gwen to their gratefully normal breakfast. "Alright! Be right there!"
Left alone, Charmcaster takes a moment to process all that's going on. Tucking her knees close to her chest, thoughts run wild through her head. From asking herself why she isn't in jail, to what's so bad about Max's cooking, not one thread stays long in her mind. A foggy mind like that doesn't let thoughts ruminate for long anyways. Tearing herself out of bed, she slowly but steadily makes her way out to breakfast. Missing out on yet another meal won't help her condition, and there's no way the hero types outside would deny her a bite to eat. They're too goody-goody for that.
Stepping out into the open air, Charmcaster finds the trio sitting around a fire. Ben and Gwen are sitting on a fallen log, while Grandpa Max is sitting its former stump. A folding camp stool sits across from them, set aside for her when she decides to join them.
"Ah, Charmcaster, you're awake. How are you feeling?" Grandpa Max asks, friendly as ever. How that man can be so jovial is beyond her, especially given all that they've been through in the past few months.
"Can I have some breakfast?" she asks, dodging his question. The less they know about her condition, the better. It's painful to talk about, let alone a bit embarrassing.
"Sure, have a seat. Sorry it's not any of my own cooking, you're missing out on the best part of the whole trip." Ben and Gwen share a look, before returning to their food, trying not to think about what they could have been eating instead.
"Yeah, 's fine." Sitting down on one of the camp chairs, Charmcaster opens a pack of Pop-Tarts and slowly munches down. "Food seems to be a big deal around here, what's that all about? Did you guys hit hard times or something?"
Ben answers her before the others have a chance, plainly stating, "No, Gramps just has a cruel sense of taste." He changes the topic, having enough thinking about weird food for a while. "You didn't answer me earlier, what happened to you?"
"I don't want to talk about it, it's none of your business," Charmcaster snaps.
Grandpa Max steps in before Ben can badger her again. "Ben's right, if you want us to help you like you said back at the market, we need to know why you're in such a state. We can't help you unless you tell us what's wrong."
Drat. Now the old man is asking her too. No way out of telling them now. She sighs and rolls her neck. This won't be a quick explanation.
"I've, well, I'm not sick. Not like a virus, at least. So, stop scooching away like I'm a leper, for Bezel's sake, you look like an idiot," She spits frankly at Ben.
"Geez, you don't have to be all snarky about it," he relents, going back to his seat on the log around the fire.
"Like I was saying, it's not a normal sickness. It's magic. Well, the lack of it to be more accurate. I've been cursed."
"Cursed? How so?" Gwen asks, curious about what magic is at play here. As a fledgling witch herself, she's been on the edge of her seat for Charmcaster's story.
"It's a powerful one. My magic's been cut off."
"What do you mean? I've never had this kind of reaction when I couldn't cast my spells, what's the difference?" Gwen inquires, her brow furrowing as she does.
"It's not like I can't use magic, it's that I don't have any magic to use. My connection to my well of magic has been severed." She swallows the last of her breakfast before continuing, "This curse isn't something you'll have to worry about, Gwen. You can only cast this kind of spell on someone who's magical connection is deeply intwined with yours."
Realization slowly etches across Gwen's face, as she puts the pieces together. "So the one who cursed you is…"
"Yeah, my own uncle. Hex." Charmcaster withdraws reflexively, the pain in her eyes clear as day. "I knew we were at odds with one another, but I thought… I didn't think he would go that far…" The last words were barely audible.
The trio look on with pity. Being so utterly betrayed by your own family must be traumatizing, in a way that none of them can properly understand. "Woah," Ben exhales, resting his forearms on his knees, enwrapped in her tale. "That sucks."
Charmcaster snickers, "No shit." She shakes her head bitterly. "Magic like that hasn't been used since the dark ages, when witches and wizards were in the height of the feudal wars. Brother against brother, mother against daughter. I've heard stories, and they weren't pretty."
Ben smirks, and drawls, "At least we don't have to worry about you zapping us while you're here."
With heavy sarcasm, Charmcaster retorts, "Oh sure, how fan-fucking-tastic for you."
Max stiffens, torn between telling her to watch her language, or leaving the matter be as she isn't his to parent. "I'm sure you wouldn't do that even if you could, not if you need our help."
"I dunno, maybe," Charmcaster says absentmindedly, resting her head in the palms of her hands. "Not that it matters. Without any magic flowing through my veins, I'm dead in the water. That's why I came to you guys."
"Why can't you just make a new well of magic?" Gwen asks, not fully convinced. "You could be trying to lower our guard and get us when we don't expect it."
"Believe me, Lucky Girl, if I could, I already would have. No, each person's well of power is predefined. You can't make another one. Once you're cut off, that's it." Softer, she says mournfully, "I won't be able to cast spells ever again."
"Charmcaster can't cast charms? Dang, even I don't think she should be punished that bad." Ben scoffs. "Hex is a real dick."
"Ben! What did I say about watching your language? Just because Charmcaster here can swear doesn't mean you can," Max berates his grandson.
Smirking, Charmcaster teases Ben, "One of the perks of being evil." Sticking her tongue out at him, she laughs a little, her spirits rising after her somber exposition.
"Charmcaster, I have a hard time believing you won't ever cast magic again, that's just too easy," Gwen pipes up.
"Hey, how would you feel if you couldn't do your little party tricks anymore? I thought you were supposed to be nice."
"They aren't party tricks," Gwen snaps back. "I mean there's got to be a way to reconnect you to your well, or something. If those spells were used as far back as the dark ages, SOMEbody has to have figured out a way to reverse it, right? Magic is never without some sort of catch," Gwen says, looking down at the fire, thinking hard. I'll have to investigate this, ok? I may hate your guts, but like Ben said, Charmcaster without charms is just sad."
"Gee, thanks for the pity party," Charmcaster says.
"Ok, then. I guess you'll be stuck with us for a while. Ben, you're going to be sleeping on the couch a little while longer. I trust that won't be an issue?" Grandpa Max asks, although it wasn't a question.
Ben hangs his head low. "Aw, man…"