Chapter 10

Mistakes, and the Inevitable Excuses

Witch

I held my breath and watched carefully as Luke lifted the jar of Stay-Up Potion to his lips and downed the mixture. "Well? You have to tell me everything about how you feel!" I stated impatiently as he screwed his face up at the potion. It doesn't matter how it tastes, it only matters if it works! Wizard might disagree these days, but he really needed to lighten up about being mister perfect.

"I feel… Weird. Reallyweird. Stufffeelsslow. Thatstufftastesawfulbytheway. Smellsgreatthough." The words were practically pouring out of his mouth, stumbling over one another in their attempts to escape between his lips. He gestured wildly, his hands moving through the air in sharp, erratic motions that made me fear for the safety of the jar in his hands.

"Luke" I said, reaching for the jar in his hands to keep him from hurting himself. I needed to get it out his hand before he threw it or worse, crushed it.

He interrupted me before I could say anything else. "Didyousaysomething?" His eyes were dilating wide, the yellow irises eaten up by his pupils. It looked like his mind was processing way faster than normal; his eyes darted around a little bit and then he leaned forward slightly, peering at me. The eye contact he was making was oppressive, I fought the urge to look away from his massive pupils.

"Slow down." I said firmly, my eyebrows pulling down. I tried to take the jar from his hand again but he was still moving his arms around like he couldn't find a comfortable place for them. His breathing was rapid and his eye contact held.

"Heyheywait. Haveyoureyesalwaysbeenthatbright? Princessyoureyesarelikeglowing!" He squinted and leaned forward a little more, then he was rapidly overcorrecting. He leaned back, and back, and back until he was falling to the floor, a dazed look on his face. I tried to grab him before he fell completely, but his arm slid right through my hands. The small jar hit in his hand hit the ground and shattered. I wish I could forget the sound of his head hitting the floor, but it's the kind of sound that sticks with you forever. The somewhat wet sound of flesh slapping into an unyielding surface, a dull thud that cracks in your ears with extreme clarity.

"Shit!" I shrieked, dropped to my knees, and fluttered my hands over the now unconscious boy frantically. I slipped my hands under his head and lifted it slightly, until the warm wetness spreading through his hair met my fingertips. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!" I shouted, becoming less and less composed by the second. I set his head back down and jumped to my feet before dashing to the kitchen; I pulled the big jar of reversal potion down from the shelf and nearly crushed myself in the process. I snatched the clean towel that I kept next to my cauldron too and then rushed back over to Luke. I lifted his head again and pulled off his bandana before pressing the towel to the back of his head, soaking up the blood.

Blood. I hyperventilated a little bit as I furiously wiped my hands on the towel. "Deep breaths, Vivi!" I told myself, sucking in air through my mouth and shakily exhaling as I unscrewed the cap from the large jar. "Just a little bump, Vivi!" I checked Luke's pulse, my breath catching in my throat as I felt it racing so quickly under his skin. I splashed a handful of the reversal potion onto his face and waited, my hand shaking against his jugular as I counted the seconds and felt his heart rate slowly dropping back down to a more appropriate level. I shifted a little bit as my breath left me in an exhausted sigh, thankful that I hadn't killed the obnoxious boy, and then I squeaked out a little sound of pain as I felt a piece of glass stab into the side of my leg. "Oh damn it all to hell!" I shouted, my voice cracking and tears bursting up in my eyes. I fisted my hands and then snapped my fingers out explosively, murmuring a few words, and the glass shards disintegrated into sand that I'd have to clean up later. My hand glowed a light yellow and I healed the small gash on my leg before I sealed the reversal potion and took it back to the shelf.

Moving slowly, the adrenaline having coursed through my veins and left me feeling drained, I returned to Luke's side and looked him over. His hand was bleeding from the jar shattering in it but his breathing had returned to normal at least. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the scent of blood in the air. "He's going to be fine." I assured myself, kneeling beside him and carefully healing the cuts on his hand. "So maybe you should have had him sit down, but it's fine. You were prepared." I tilted his head and pulled it into my lap to heal the contusion before wiping the sweat and stray tears from my face. Damn this entire situation. I took the bloodied towel from before and wiped up the small puddle from the floor before snatching up his bandana and heading over to my cauldron. I removed the stains from both and then stood over my cauldron, gripping the rim and breathing deeply as I tried to regain my composure. Things were not going according to plan. But they would, I reminded myself firmly.

I sat in a chair close to the couch and watched Luke carefully. I had propped him up there, his bandana tied firmly back in place, and was now waiting for him to come to. He'd snapped awake three times now and started babbling at a rate of about a thousand words a minute before falling back against the couch shortly after. He said random things, like "have you seen my mother?" and "bear cubs don't like mayonnaise!" He definitely hadn't regained consciousness. I monitored his heart rate and breathing, both of which seemed to be leveling out back to normal. The sun had set about an hour ago. I didn't give him any more reversal potion since time seemed to be working its own magic quickly enough. I mulled over my options.

The potion was imperfect, obviously. It hadn't had such an effect on me, which drew up some interesting questions about the physiological difference between mortals and immortals. I hadn't expected the stress to push him to a faint. Perhaps the stimulant content of the potion was too high. But if I reduced it to a level appropriate to Luke and other mortals, would it still be effective on Gale and I? I ran countless calculations in my head as I watched the blue-haired boy sleep off his sickness on my couch. He let out a little grunt in his sleep and I returned to the reality of the situation.

I was going to need to take more precautions in the future. My goal was to drive the boy off, not kill him. Surely this turn of events would work in my favor, but I didn't need the experience repeating itself. I exhaled deeply and regained my composure. Yes, that's what I needed. Cool composure and intimidation were the keys to getting it into this boy's head that I wasn't one to be messed with and intruded on. When he woke fully, I would reprimand his lack of attention to detail; he certainly hadn't properly told me how he was feeling before he passed out. I'd already repaired all the damage done, so he wouldn't know how badly things had turned out. This would work out just fine. I was in control, after all. He let out a slow yawn and stretched him arms over his head, cracking his neck loudly before opening his tired eyes. They weren't wildly dilated now and he gazed around the room before focusing precariously on me.

"How do you feel?" I asked calmly, quirking up an eyebrow.

"My mouth tastes like barf. Again." He said, with a hoarse little laugh.

Author's Note: Does Luke have a concussion? Does the Witch have a phobia of blood or is she just squeamish/stressed? Does the Witch always talk to herself? Will I ever get some dang reviews on these chapters? Stay tuned for next week's installation!