Page 2 of Destined to the Lycan
“Why does your mother believe you’re cursed?” Ronika asked with genuine curiosity as she closed the door behind her.
Simultaneously, she gestured for me to sit on the examination table in the middle of the room. To my pleasant surprise, I noticed she actually brought one of my Caladrius candles with her. The mythical bird whose feathers I had used to make them was a powerful healer. If blessed enough to meet one, a sick patient would only have to remain still while the snow-white bird stared at him. It would absorb the sickness out of the patient and then fly towards the sun so it would burn it out of him. But if the bird did not make eye contact, it either meant it could not take your sickness away, or that it chose not to do so because you did not deserve it.
I had been so blessed as to meet a Caladrius, but it would not make eye contact with me.
“She actually doesn’t know that I’m sick,” I confessed sheepishly. “It would devastate her.”
“I’m confused,” Ronika said carefully.
“I’m displaying the same symptoms as with the mysterious illness that killed my father when I was still a toddler,” I explained grimly. “When the doctors and healers failed to identify the cause or to cure him, Mother turned to the Houngans and Mambos, hoping that the spirits would help. After all, my family faithfully served the loas for generations. But they also didn’t have answers for us. Mom was devastated and left Benin shortly thereafter to start over here. And although she taught me about our culture, she’s been adamant about having no magic in our lives at all. She barely tolerates the fact that I create witch candles. But they put food on the table.”
“I can see why she would feel that way,” Ronika replied with compassion. “Is that why you left your State to move here in Willow Grove?”
I shook my head. “My uncle—Mom’s older brother—passed away recently. In his will, he bequeathed his mansion to me. He only has one daughter who stayed in the old country and has no desire to move here.”
Ronika’s brow creased. “I’m sorry for your loss. Did he fall to the same illness?”
“No,” I said firmly. “It was a stupid horse accident. Something spooked his mount. My uncle got knocked off the saddle and fell at a bad angle, breaking his neck. I was just shocked both to discover I had blood relatives here, and above all that he would put me in his will as I had no recollection of him. I was too young when we left.”
“Did your mother know?” Ronika asked.
I nodded. “We had a big falling out over it. For the longest time, I told my mother that I wanted to go back home for a visit and to reconnect with our family. But she always had some excuse to put it off. Truth be told, she kept us pretty isolated. If not for my candle business, I would hardly ever meet anyone. Needless to say that she lost it when I told her that I wanted to accept my uncle’s gift. She swore up and down that it was cursed, and that if I went there, I would meet a terrible death.”
The shocked expression on the healer’s face reflected the distress I felt when I first realized that the symptoms manifesting themselves shortly after my arrival seemed to confirm my mother’s dire prediction.
“Is it?” Ronika asked carefully. “Is the house cursed?”
I shook my head. “Sadly, it isn’t. It would have been too easy had that been the case. Willow Grove is home to some of the most powerful sorcerers and exorcists. I brought three different ones to try and determine if some evil force within wasslowly killing me. But they detected no evil spells or malevolent presence.”
Ronika pursed her lips, her beautiful dark brown eyes going out of focus as she reflected on my words.
“I recall you mentioning that you first became sick approximately one month after arriving here,” she mused aloud. “If the house isn’t making you sick, can you think of any unusual places you might have visited in search of ingredients for your candles, or merely while exploring the region?”
“Believe me, I wondered about that as well. But I have not gone to any of the cursed places everyone warns us about, least of all a freaky place like Hemdell. As for my ingredients, I have only bought them right here in Charmers District, aside from what I already had and brought here with me. However, I have acquired some exotic reagents from the artifact traders in town. I first thought that maybe I was having an adverse reaction to one of them. But they are not anything no one else has used before. Had they been the cause, surely someone would have recognized the symptoms.”
Ronika nodded slowly, her expression troubled. She gestured for me to lie down on the table. I promptly complied. Despite the fear discussing my health issues always brought forth, I couldn’t help a proud smile when she shortened the wick off my Caladrius candle before lighting it up. She then began passing it slowly a few inches above me, as one would to examine something with a magnifying glass.
In many ways, it acted exactly like that for someone with her arcane powers. For commoners, using this candle would only suck out some minor illness or injuries, like quieting a particularly unpleasant headache, dimming some seriously sore or achy muscles and joints, mending a cold, or dousing a fever. But in the hands of a master healer like Ronika, it would give her an open window into what was ailing me.
Lying down as I was, all I could see was the air blurring around the candle. Its flame changed colors and intensity depending on where Ronika was moving the candle above me. She would be seeing a clear vision, almost like an X-ray. I didn’t have the magic to do the same, but the colors of the flame indicated undeniably that something was truly wrong with me.
“By the Gods,” Ronika whispered under her breath, with an air of disbelief.
“That bad?” I asked with a nervous laugh to hide how distraught I felt.
“The disease has indeed returned. But this time, it is spreading much faster than before. This looks like a case of frequent exposure to some sort of toxin or poison. Except I’ve never seen anything like it before. I don’t know what could attack your body in this fashion. Are you sure you’re not exposed to anything?”
“I genuinely cannot think of anything,” I replied, defeated. “The arcanists and I have scoured the entire house and found nothing. And I’ve only gone to places that other people also visit regularly. I have no clue what this is.”
Ronika gave me a sad look. “I won’t lie to you, Amara. Your illness is beyond me.”
“You can’t be serious!” I exclaimed in a crestfallen whisper. “You’re my only hope. Dr. Osborne also gave up on me. And none of the witches could assist me. You were able to take the illness away last time. Can’t you do it again?”
She gave me an apologetic look. “I cannot cure you, Amara. I should be able to remove some of the infection and mend the damage to your organs. But it is not a cure. Whatever is ailing you is still there and will grow again. Sadly, it now knows how to attack you and will continue to spread faster each time.”
“So I’m doomed?” I asked, disbelieving.
A sliver of hope sparked deep within me when she hesitated. That she didn’t flat out say no meant an option remained.
