Page 30 of Magic and Medicine

We drove lazily through the city, enjoying a little small talk, when agonising pain tore through my body, and I screamed, grasping my ribs and panting. One look in my direction and Leszek pulled over with the screeching of tyres, but I grabbed his shoulder. This pain wasn’t mine. It echoed through the newly acquired mental connection I shared with Scarface, but it felt real no matter the source.

‘No… house… Please.’ I said, panting, close to collapse. Someone was beating the hell out of me… my cat… the lines between my consciousness and his blurred as the pain tore reality apart. Without questioning, Leszek slammed the accelerator to the floor, and even through the haze of pain, I was sure he would kill us in traffic.

When the pain stopped, my relief was replaced by worry. Was he alive? Had they killed my baby? A sob wracked my body as thoughts tumbled through the link. ‘Don’t come home, danger, attacker.’

‘Someone is in my house. I need to tell you…ugh fu… what is…?’ I struggled to talk, my breath trapped in my aching chest. ‘We had a… patient, burned at docks… he saw me.’

‘Tell me later, Sara. Stay here.’ The car jerked when he pulled over, Leszek leaping out and rushing upstairs as soon as it came to a halt.

‘No, wait… the fu… key.’ As I struggled out of the car, I croaked, ‘Not staying here….’

The texture of the concrete looked very interesting from this angle, but why could I see it so clearly? My mind registered the sound of a commotion, and the pressure on my chest disappeared, my burning lungs finally dragging precious air into their desperate embrace.

As soon as the effects of mild hypoxia wore off, I was careening toward my apartment, desperate to save Scarface. The wreckage of my door barely registered as the view inside startled me to a standstill.

Leszek stood in the middle of the room, holding a man in the air. I blinked several times, but the scene didn’t change. Did gravity cease to exist when I passed out? How was he holding the man in the air at arm’s length? And without flinching as his captive struggled, kicking and clawing to escape.

‘Who sent you,’ His voice was so menacing it was more growl than speech.

‘He can’t talk. You’re crushing his windpipe. Where is my cat, and why the fuck aren’t my neighbours here? Did everybody go deaf in the building?’

I felt strangely detached. I recognised this feeling. In any crisis, I set my emotions aside while the practical, logical part of me analysed the situation. Detachment, my superpower. I remembered those moments, resuscitating a child or staunching someone’s blood as we stitched their torn body, family screaming in the background, moments where recalling vital information without panic was the difference between life and death. That detachment meant I could assess the damage, ask questions and save my cat without collapsing to the floor in tears.

‘A spell that suppressed noise kept your neighbours from investigating. The door was intact until I arrived.’ Leszek seemed to calm as he spoke, his arm lowering the trespasser to the ground, and the purple colour receded from the captive’s face.

‘Where is Scarface?’ I asked, turning toward the burglar. Cold sweat drenched me when I failed to see his scarred black muzzle in the wreckage. ‘Scarface, kitten… please be here.’ I called, feeling the first touch of panic.

I have never been so scared in my life. My precious boy was injured, and the thought I might have lost him shattered me. I tried to stay composed, but my strength broke, and like a maniac, I rushed to the kitchen and then to the bedroom, trying to find him. A pitiful meow from the lounge drew me back as he spoke in my mind. ‘I failed to stop them to enter. I’m sorry, Sara.’

I dived under a broken bookshelf to retrieve my friend, cradling his broken body gently as I rescued him from the debris, tears streaming down my face as I saw the blood and his barely moving chest, realising how much damage had been done from the pain I’d felt being inflicted on his small body. I’d happily feel it again if it meant he survived this ordeal, but I could see the telltale signs of death as Scarface struggled to breathe.

‘Please, kitten, please don’t leave me. Leszek, can you help him? I’ll pay any price and won’t fight. Just help him, please?’

I sobbed, begging for my cat’s life, embracing him while my soul clung to his, holding it in the dying body. It was instinct, a desperate act that drained my strength far too quickly, but I didn’t care. He was family, and I would give anything for my baby to survive this latest battle.

I’d found him as a kitten, matted fur wet and bloody, lying in the filth next to a dumpster, clinging to life, the will to survive enabling him to mewl weakly when he sensed my presence. My little fighter, my guardian. I fell in love with his scarred muzzle, and we’d been inseparable ever since. Scarface had seen more of my tears and heard more of my woes than anyone, and now, when he could reply, I was about to lose him.

‘Sara…’ I look up through a curtain of tears to see Leszek’s outstretched hands, the man he’d been holding, abandoned on the floor, his neck twisted obscenely. Gently removing Scarface’s body from my hands, he grimaced in pain before closing his eyes.

‘You tethered his soul to this world. Now let me take care of his body.’

I clung to this frail thread of hope and focused on the connection to my guide. The pain I felt in the car returned, only to fade away. I could feel it all as earth magic moved through Scarface, a soft, loving touch for such a powerful man.

Leszek’s healing washed over my senses, the lack of pain reminding me of the surgery on the werewolf. Is this incredible man taking the pain into himself as he did back then? I opened my eyes, about to ask, when the pale cloud of death dissolved, and my cat stirred in Leszek’s embrace. Not fully healed, but no longer at death’s welcoming door. A weak, tired voice appeared in my mind. ‘Sara, those men were here to take you, it wasn't a simple burglary.’

‘Take me where?’ I said out loud, and Leszek’s head jerked in my direction.

‘Your guide has recovered enough to communicate?’ He asked, and I noticed how tired he looked. Healing Scarface must have exhausted him, but he did it for me. I reached out and touched Leszek’s cheek, glimpsing a strange expression flash across his features before his shoulders slumped, and he leaned against my hand as if it brought him relief. Nothing could have torn me away from this kind, generous man at that moment as I caressed his temple with my thumb.

‘Yes, he said, some men came to abduct me, so there wasn’t just the one you killed.’ It was difficult, but I kept my voice calm as I continued, ‘Is it helping? My touch?’ I asked, curious about his reaction. Leszek nodded, and I held him a moment longer.

‘How is it helping?’

‘We can talk about it at home. Your cat should recover now, and I have to make a few phone calls. Please pack what you need and don’t worry about the rest. We can buy replacements.’ He said, frowning when I shook my head.

‘Hush, it’s ok. Unless he ripped open my bag, I’m already packed,’ I left Scarface in Leszek’s arms, scrambling to grab the carrier. The body on the floor stirred as I moved, and then he laughed. The shock at finding him alive awoke something inside me, and brutal, mindless rage took over. Without conscious thought, my foot slammed into the attacker’s rib cage.

The man grunted, no longer laughing after his rib cracked, but I wanted him to feel every ounce of pain he’d inflicted on my defenceless cat. About to swing my foot at him again, I felt an arm lift me up, Leszek effortlessly holding me up as he made a call with his other hand.

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