“Isis, magic comes from the soul. All Death did was enhance what was already there. If you tried a spell, you probably would poison them to the ultimate slumber.” Constantine waited for his words to sink in.
“You could do like the Pied Piper,” Bartholomew said from his chair at the workstation.
“Thanks, Bart. I thought you were on my side. Now you, too, are making fun of me.”
“Isis, I think Bartholomew had a great idea.” Constantine was staring at me.
“What?” I was staring back and forth between the two of them. They had lost their minds. “OK, guys, the one who got hit in the head was me, remember?”
Constantine rolled his eyes at me; I wasn’t sure how. “Isis, please.” People were saying that a lot lately. Constantine continued without even blinking an eye. “You’ve heard the saying ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ Most of your folktales and stories are based on some truth. Like the religions of old are now your mythologies. Believing in things gives them power. In your case, it’s like faith.”
“So you’re saying the Pied Piper was real.” Why was I even surprised anymore?
“A man who used magic through his music to enchant people, yes. The rest of the story is very iffy. Think of the power music currently has. It makes people want to move, even those who can’t dance. Now image adding an intent to that. It’s powerful.” Constantine had a smirk when he finished.
“OK, so maybe I have some hope.” I tried to sound positive.
“You have more than hope. We do need to add some martial arts and grappling to your training. You can’t be taking any more beatings.” Oh God, he was going to kill me.
“Constantine, if magic comes from the soul, what happens when you misuse it?” I needed to change the topic fast.
“Your scientists and religious groups understood this very early on. Your scientists found that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The religious leaders developed the golden rule—do unto others as you wish to be done to you. The rules are simple. Anything you put out there will come back to you in one way or another.”
Bartholomew and I were listening in silence. Neither one of us moved. Bartholomew cleared his throat. “Is that why you are always preaching about intentions?”
“Buddhism has a beautiful saying: cause no harm to any living thing. Every time those witches use their power to kill and destroy, it destroys a part of their soul. Makes them easy marks for demons and the like.” Constantine looked sad as he spoke.
“What about those who worship the devil?” Theoretical discussions were not my specialty—way too many variables.
“They know where they’re going. They’re just trying to get points to have a higher status in the afterlife. Some want to transcend to demons.” I had officially heard it all. “OK, enough chitchat. We’ve got work to do. Bartholomew, go make Isis a bath. You know what to use.”
“Yes, sir.” Bartholomew flew out of the room faster than I believed possible.
“I can make my own bath.” I struggled to sit up.
“No, no you can’t. We don’t have all night to watch you wobble around. In the fridge there is a shake marked Isis. Grab it on your way to the shower and drink it.” Constantine was not leaving any room to argue.
“Do I have to?” I was afraid of drinking any weird potions.
“Girl, don’t make me scratch your eyes out. Go to the fridge and then the bath. Sit in the tub for twenty minutes, no more and no less. Move!” He yelled the last part, since I was sitting there with my mouth open.
There was no need to argue. I struggled to my feet and shuffled across the room. By the time I had reached the fridge, Bartholomew was back from my room. He saw me and made a beeline toward me. Without a word he opened the fridge, grabbed my shake, opened the lid, and handed it to me. No words were spoken—just smiles and nods. Bartholomew was wiser than I had ever imagined.
I refused to admit to Constantine that the shake was actually delicious. It was a peanut-butter-and-banana shake, and probably the creamiest I had ever had. It had a hint of vanilla and maybe cinnamon. It was so good, I didn’t care what else it had. Yeah, I loved food. By the time I had shuffled to my room, the shake was half-gone. I forced myself to the bathroom instead of stopping by my bed. I would never get up if I sat down.
The bathroom smelled like jasmine, peppermint, and vanilla. Not what I was expecting. I loved all those fragrances. It took me almost three minutes to take off my clothes. I normally could undress in under twenty seconds. I set the alarm on my phone and placed the phone on the outside ledge of the tub. My bathroom had a walk-in shower and a separate tub. The shower and tub were next to each other on the right-hand wall. The tub was a modern piece that looked as if it were carved from the wall. It had a small ledge around it.
The toilet was on the opposite side, and it was inside what looked like a small closet. I had two sinks that formed an L shape connecting the toilet and tub. The bathroom was awesome. I didn’t know how they had done it, but it was made for me. I looked at the alarm and made sure it had twenty minutes on it. I didn’t need Constantine coming in to yell at me. Baths were not my thing, and as I placed my feet in the water, it all came back why. The water was close to boiling levels. I felt like a large lobster, and my skin was slowly cooking.
I was told your body adjusted to baths and they stopped being as hot. Either the tub had a hidden heater,
