Hans sat on a padded armchair next to the bed where the still-bodied Ellen lay, the stab wound from the wretched doctor a dark brown. The iron in the blood had oxidised. His head was in his hands and his long silver hair fell to the floor. His face was contorted in frustration, or was it guilt? He couldn't distinguish the two, nor could he even bare to take a single glance at her. Whatever the feeling was, it was eating away at his body for leaving her alone. If she wasn't alone, if he hadn't turned his back, this wouldn't have happened. He would have been there to protect her from the Necromancers.
In his haste to leave the compound and put distance between them and the twisted Lucien, the first destination he could think of to vanish to was the inner-rooms of the Grand Committee manor. Although he had resigned as the Grand Master a good time ago, he still held a high rank, enough authority and prestige to be classified as a senior member and gain access to all the rooms within the building. At times of duress, the manor also proved to be one of the safest places, stripping Necromancers from all their power and allowing Tempusmancers to keep theirs. It provided an advantage that Necromancers knew all too well and kept them away from attacking within the constraints of the manor.
On his arrival and after describing the events that had unfolded, the Grand Committee had ushered them into one of the private healing rooms; rooms that were positioned close to the nurse's quarters and that were tended to on a routine basis. An aged Tempusmancer was already waiting for them when they had arrived, an expert in wounds inflicted by Necromancers and their weapons. She took a look at the wound and determined that the blade the doctor had used wasn't made of any special materials which would require intensive aftercare. She did however, give an ultimatum to Hans about saving the girls life – he would either have to finish converting her so she had full powers or let her be human and she would succumb to the wounds. When she had delivered this news, she squeezed Hans on the shoulder, solemnly, and left the pair alone so he could deliberate. Now, he sat in the armchair weighing up his options.
The healing room they were in was a comfortable environment, much like what he needed. Its drapes of cream, its off-white walls, and plush carpeting allowed him to relax and feel like he was at home whilst he continued to be construed in thought. A light, summery scent was periodically sprayed into the room, giving the light room a natural feel. Two large, padded armchairs were placed beside the bed, there in anticipation for a greater number of guests. It was in one of them where he sat now. He worked hard to slow his rapid thoughts, trying to make sense of them all. He was at a loss of what to do; what the right decision was. It added to the frustration he was now feeling.
Only a short time ago, Ellen had refused the conversion and the Grand Committee was put on alert to revoke any remaining powers she had left. She didn't want to be subjected to the fights, to the deaths and danger that came with being a Tempusmancer. Inevitably, he did partly bring her amidst it. Almost instantly, he sensed that she regretted this decision and that was when the Necromancers made their move. They preyed on her at her most vulnerable, and betrayed her trust. Now, she was lying next to him, bordering death and her pulse weakening every minute that went by. If she was converted, she would be finding herself in the middle of what she was trying to avoid. If he didn't do anything, she would lose her life but she wouldn't be able to fall back within Lucien's grasp and the Necromancers would have to wait another century to seek greater power.
Hans glanced back at the blonde haired girl, his face turned into a frown, and mentally called for the Grand Master. He had to get an opinion on this; it had the potential to later impact the entire race and he wanted to make sure he was making the right choice. He saw the door to the room open silently from the corner of his eyes within a minute and then it closed.
"You called?" a voice asked. An austere looking woman stood inside of the door, her hands in front of her and folded neatly within each other. Long, glistening black hair sprouted from the top of her head and ended mid-way down her back. Her face was slim and portrayed youthfulness, and her body was draped in deep-maroon drapes. Electric blue eyes gazed from behind narrow-rimmed glasses. Although seemingly young, Hans knew too well that she was in his senior. Her voice was calculating and deliberate.
"Claudia," Hans emitted weakly. His head was still in his hands. He was aware that he must've looked like a schoolchild – the once great Hans Grey – but he didn't care. He wasn't afraid to admit that he too had weak moments; moments where he needed guidance. "I'm at a loss."
Claudia walked – glided – silently across the room and took the seat next to Hans. She crossed her leg, her hands now folded on her knees. "I sense great conflict within you, Hans Grey." She peered down her nose, out of the glasses.
"For once in my life, I am lost," he sighed. He dropped his hands between his legs and slumped back into the chair. His body deflated and he appeared broken in mind, in spirit. Claudia analysed his face; the perplexity, the genuine worry that flooded onto this face. This was what once made him a great leader.
"My son," she began. "Why did you put your own life on the line if you are going to let this girl-child die?" The question grabbed Hans by the throat, the honesty of it being brutal and lashing at his aches. She pressed on. "You sit here before me, a wreck of sorts. You sit here doubting that you did the right thing. You sit here wondering if it's easiest to let her go. You sit here doubting her. You sit here doubting yourself."
Hans felt his heartstrings get tugged.
"Claudia," he acknowledged. He was truly lost for words.
"Hans Grey. You, of all people, should know that talent like this should be cherished and trained to be productive. When the time comes for another war, we will want all the talent we can afford to get and this girl is another prodigy who could advance our cause. She could advance us."
There was a twinkle in the woman's eyes as she knew that what she was saying was being absorbed by Hans.
"You know. I remember when Melvin first told us about a worthy prospect; I remember when he told us about you," she placed emphasis on each of these words. Not only did it stir Hans inside, but it stirred her too.
"He was excited that he found someone so capable of living our life that he was virtually skipping through our doors to tell us. After knowing that you had lost your parents and were an orphan, he took you in with the hopes of raising you as his own son. He was incapable of having his own. He genuinely thought that he could save you and you could save him. And in a way, you did. You taught him how to love and have compassion. He put his life on the line for you."
Deep inside, Hans knew what Claudia was alluding to, but it didn't protect him from its impact on his emotions.
"You have a choice in front of you to save someone that is as worthy of you. The answer is clear but ultimately, it is your decision alone. Just remember, Melvin was about making the world better. Don't make him be disappointed in you if he was still here." She fell silent, allowing her words to sink into Hans' mind.
He gazed at her through confused eyes, and took a massive breath. "Thank you for your clarity and wisdom."
Claudia sat for a brief moment more and grabbed his hands into hers. She gave them a squeeze – a warm squeeze – and left the room so he was left alone.
With a clearer mind and knowing what he had to do, he stepped up from the chair and neared the bed where Ellen lay. Hans sat on the side, the soft mattress sagging underneath his weight. He took her hands, just like Claudia did to his, and felt the coldness against his warmth. Bowing his head, he closed his eyes and started an incantation; the same incantation that was told to him by Melvin. It brought back a wealth of memories but he suppressed these to the back of his mind. The incantation was a solid two minute affair of nonstop muttering and was administered when the time was right to awaken full powers of new Tempusmancers. Of course, this was after they accepted conversion. The familiar tingling and warmth surged to his fingertips. The ritual was complete. Hans placed Ellen's hand gently next to her and shifted back to the armchair.
He wasn't sure of how long this process would take, or if it would be successful in saving her. It was the unknown and this ate away at him. Time trickled past, each second seeming like a lifetime. With growing impatience, he rose from the armchair and stood and paced the room absent minded. He never realised how quiet it could be; the quietness haunting him. His footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet, and it gave a soft of spring to his step. He could feel his temples throbbing from anticipation.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
There was a clearing of a throat, and Hans jumped a few centimetres off the ground in surprise. The female doctor was standing in the doorway, a stethoscope hanging limply around her neck. She was attempting to stifle her laugh, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"I believe she's stirring, Hans." The words she uttered in her Irish brogue were musical to his ears; these words have never been so welcome. He whipped his head back at the girl and, sure enough, colour was returning to her drained skin. It was faint but it was definitely getting stronger. Ellen's cheeks were no longer ghastly white and now had a pinkish tinge. Her body had a healthy glow. Relief and happiness radiated from deep within his body.
"It could take a while for her to recover fully so I advise to give her space. Wait here if you must, but give her room," the doctor cautioned. She hurried to the bed, and placed her stethoscope on Ellen's chest. The beats were getting stronger but there were large improvements needed just yet. "I'll send in a Guardian to nurse and take care of her," she called to Hans. She continued to talk to herself, identifying what required doing. "She needs to get out of these clothes and into something clean. She needs those wounds patched up. She needs..." And then the doctor left, leaving Hans alone again, the quietness not as deafening as it was previously.
He wasn't left alone for long. Ellen's Guardian bustled through the door, holding an assortment of items thrown into a tub. He was young although this didn't make Hans doubt his skills. They were only designated as such if the individual had shown constant compassion, care, and dedication as a Tempusmancer. This specific Guardian had worked with Hans countless times, to the point they had established mutual respect.
"Hans," he acknowledged. He dropped the tub he was holding at the foot of the bed and tipped the contents out. Bandages, clothes, a clean change of clothes. He took the tub to a smaller side room and came back. The container sloshed with water every step he took, flecks of it being adsorbed by his shirt. He picked up a sponge and began to work on Ellen's wound and bathing her. The dirt and dried blood slowly disappeared, making the water a murky brown. Her clothes were stripped and changed to a clean t-shirt and pants. The Guardian had placed one finger on her face, preparing to delicately clean her face, when one of Ellen's fingers twitched. The movement spread like an electric surge to her whole hand and then she opened her eyes and her throat shifted.
"Him," she croaked. The two men stared at her, the Guardian dropping the sponge into the tub and shifting it away. Hans bent down close to her, their noses nearly brushing against each other.
"What about him?" he asked her, clearly and slowly.
"He nearly killed me. It hurts." Her voice was contorted with the pain and Hans felt helpless. Her eyes flickered open, exposing her light-brown eyes. They flitted at the Guardian and lingered, and then at Hans. She was still visibly weak but it was a vast improvement from where she had been. "He's a cop. He drove me home."
The Guardian smiled. "Only when I need to be."
Ellen remained neutral and then muttered words into Hans' ear, reigniting the guilt in him. "I don't trust anyone."
She then closed her eyes, still weak, and entered a deep, deep slumber; a slumber that took her away from reality for the time being.