Excitement bubbles within me as I hope for the best. It’s something I haven’t held onto for the longest of times. The phone rings a few times until she finally picks it up and answers.
“Thaddeus?” she asks, not hiding her shock.
“Have you still got Astral’s grimoires?” I ask.
I just need to check one thing before proceeding; make sure I am correct, because I can’t have the darkness taint my little sister; she won’t be able to live with it.
“Yes, but you don’t need them; I know them word for word. What happened?” she asks as concern laces her words.
“Say someone dies, and I use my magic to bring them back. Will it taint them or just disintegrate when it hasn’t got a host to feed off?”
“What are you talking about, Thaddeus? Who died?”
“It doesn’t matter because I am bringing them back. Will it taint her or disintegrate back to the realm it came from?”
“It should disintegrate. What are you doing? Who died?” Her frantic voice screeches through the phone. “Thaddeus, I swear if you hurt Evelyn, I will kill you myself!” my aunt screams at me.
“It’s not Evelyn, Aunty B,” I tell her. I can’t leave her wondering.
“Who?”
“It’s Mara,” I tell her, using my sister’s nickname, which I used when I couldn’t pronounce her name properly when I was a boy.
I hear her gasp; a hiccuped sob leaves her. I wait, giving her a chance to register what I said, let it sink in. When she suddenly gasps loudly, I hear her rummaging around and hear the faint flicking of pages turning.
“I thought you said you knew it off your head?” I ask, suddenly worried.
“How did she die?” she asks, her voice rushed.
“She burnt herself out; she used all her magic,” I tell her. The thought saddens me because to do that would have been extremely painful. It’s not like overusing a muscle; it’s like losing part of your soul, feeling the life sucking out of you.
“You don’t have to give your magic up, Thaddeus. You just need to jump-start hers,” she says.
“What?” I ask, now confused.
“You need to jump-start her like a battery. Amara isn’t dead; she is like a petrified piece of wood or a drained vampire. She needs the energy to make power, energy for energy, a jump start,” she says, and I feel hope bubble up within me. I hang up.
I have two options: give up my magic and awake her with necromancy or boost her. Laying her on the ground, I try the better alternative first. Placing my hands on her chest, I let my magic cascade over me, sickly sweet and cold, my eyes bleed black, veins of liquid darkness spread over my body, moving towards my hands where I let it build up; build until I can feel it vibrating over my palms. The sadistic whispers become louder, trying to feed off her remains, but I ignore them, focusing solely on her, not letting them creep back in, not letting it take over as they call out for me.
The sky darkens as storm clouds roll across the sky, thick and heavy; the air feels electrified as I channel the energy around me; the ground shakes beneath us. I see lightning whip and crack across the sky, angry and relentless, fueled by my magic as I continue to let it feed off the storm I brew, off the energy as it zaps through the sky. Then, I let it go, sending it straight into her. The ground turns black beneath her as it blasts straight through her chest and into the ground. The air thickens, and I can smell the burning, acrid smell of my dark magic as it blasts the earth before my magic decays into the earth beneath me.
I wait, listening for any sounds of life within her, feeling for the gold flecks of her aura, but get nothing, just silence and the sound of the raging storm above my head made by my tumultuous emotions. Minutes feel like hours as I wait. I decide to give it one more go before trying the other way, but nothing happens.
Pressing my hands to her chest again, I feel for sickly sweet power of my magic, letting it build when I hear it.
Thump.
Then nothing. Shaking my head, I am about to draw energy when I hear it again. It makes me stop, wondering if I imagine it when I feel her heart bump in her chest. Rhythm picks up as it turns into fluttering, sounding like that of a hummingbird’s wings as it picks up speed.
Tears slip down my face when I realize she is alive. I can feel her heart beat beneath my hands. She suddenly gasps for air, her eyes fly open. She’s bleary-eyed before life returns to them. She smiles, her hands go to mine as a strange look crosses her face. She looks down at my hands and her eyes dart to mine.
“Oi, hands off the merchandise; what’s wrong with you? I am your sister,” she says, shoving my hands off her, appalled they are on her chest.
I am too stunned to care about what she just said; instead, I grab her and crush her against my chest while she smacks at me. Amara tries to escape my death grip on her but then she suddenly relaxes and hugs me back. “God, I am so glad to have your annoying, whiny, bitchy ass back,” I tell her, kissing her head.
“Get those filthy lips off me. I know you suck cock with those lips,” she says, rubbing her forehead with her hand. “Thank you,” she adds, resting her head against me, and I pat the side of her face with my hand as we watch the storm dissipate.
Relief floods me as she loops her arm through mine. “I need your help with something,” I tell her, and she nods, looking up at me.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she tells me, already knowing what I have in mind.
“I should have done it years ago,” I admit.
“Better late than never,” she says, pulling her necklace from around her neck and holding her hands out to me. “Before we do this, I just thought I should tell you something, because I am your favorite sister.”
“You’re my only sister,” I deadpan.
“Exactly, therefore, the favorite. And Amara makes an excellent name for my niece, don’t you think?” She grins.
“No,” I tell her. This girl doesn’t have a serious bone in her body, does she?
“I like Amara. Come on, brother, it has a nice ring to it,” she says, bouncing on her feet.
I shake my head, and she gets on her knees, begging, clasping her hands together and looking at me with the most deranged puppy dog eyes, making me raise an eyebrow at her. “Middle name, and that’s it,” I groan.
“Deal,” she says, jumping up and grabbing my hands, a triumphant grin on her face like she just won the lottery. “Ready?” she asks. I let out a breath…
…and nod.