It's Just Magic

Checking Up On Magic

The drive to the hospital took longer than Edendir had anticipated. By the time he reached the doors the sun was beginning to sink in the sky and yet he still hadn't managed to get Summer out of his thoughts.

"Hello, sir," a bored looking receptionist said. "How can we help you today?"

"Has a young boy been brought in after being hit by a car?" Edendir queried. "Boyd Miller."

"Yes," the receptionist said, fingers tapping away on the keyboard of the computer. "Ward three, major injuries unit. Do you know the way?"

"I'll follow my nose," Edendir said assuringly, smiling. He walked away from the desk and did indeed follow his nose, using his elf senses to detect where Dylan and Boyd were. Boyd's smell was partially masked beneath chemicals and the iron tang of blood whereas Dylan gave off an aura of grief.

The elf knocked on the door of the private ward before walking in. Dylan was curled up in a chair, watching Boyd. The other American was wired up to hundreds of tubes, machines and devices, a bleeping monitor displaying his heart rate. Nurses and doctors were crowded around the end of his bed, talking softly.

"He has the most complex muscular structure I've ever seen," one doctor was saying. His badge proclaimed him to be the head doctor, meaning he was in charge.

"Brilliant for sports," a nurse murmured. "He'd be spectacular at hurdles, long jump... Just athletics in general."

"And he'd be fabulous at leapfrog," a male nurse added. "He could probably jump over the moon!"

"Be serious, Jackson," another doctor snapped. 

"He may lose his legs," the head doctor said softly. "That was where the car hit him fully."

"It's pretty bad," the nurse called Jackson agreed. "And- bloody hell! Look at his muscles!"

Moving closer Edendir could see an x-ray machine positioned next to the doctors and nurses. It displayed the muscle structure of Boyd's lower legs and the muscles themselves kept on shifting, kept on changing. Within seconds they had changed completely, thinned down and more stringy.

"Now they look like they should fit his build," the head doctor said in amazement. "He's quite skinny and shouldn't really have such muscles, especially only in his lower legs."

"That's just stereotypical," Jackson argued. "He could be whoever he wants to be."

"But there never was any visible muscle there before," another doctor snapped. "So he shouldn't have the strength he does."

"Can you all leave, please?" Dylan asked quietly from the corner of the room. "There's nothing immediately wrong with him. You've checked up on him already. Please, leave him in peace."

"He can't hear you," Jackson said without turning around. "He can't hear anyone."

"Good, otherwise he'd hear the sound of a small boy with pointed ears kicking all of your asses out of the room," Edendir growled. Every single nurse and doctor turned around and even Dylan raised his eyebrows at Edendir's sudden outburst. 

"Out," the elf ordered, pointing to the door. His eyes glowed and the nurses and doctors all filed out of the room, hypnotised and under Edendir's control. 

The door slammed shut and Edendir breathed a sigh of relief. He sat in the only other available chair and looked across at Dylan.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly. Dylan shrugged and hugged his knees.

"I've been better," he said in a hoarse voice. "But I could never be as bad as Boyd is."

"At least he's still alive," Edendir pointed out. A tear rolled down Dylan's cheek.