Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

to him. By the time the numbness reached the middle of my back, Eryx had come to me. He looked dramatically different from the last time we'd met, more youthful, his black hair spiked and a short, trim goatee framing his beautiful lips. He had on dark-tinted glasses to hide his eyes and wore a dark pinstripe suit. It fit the sharpness of his movements as he came in with guns blazing and somehow commandeered my entire hallway in the name of "more accurate carbon dating using groundbreaking scientific techniques, and no, you can't watch, the process is still proprietary, and yes, I have permission for this, and if you have a problem with it, go fuck yourselves." Once he'd scared everyone else away, Eryx unbuttoned his jacket, ran a nervous hand through his hair and looked right at me. "Thanos?"
    Wow, you can be scary when you set your mind to it.
    He laughed, jittery with relief. "You should hear what my students say about me. You're still here." He set his hands on my shoulders, and the warmth seeped in, tender and possessive. "You're still alive."
    So far. Do you know why this is happening?
    "My mother. She's…" He turned his face away, swallowed, and then continued, "She's dead."
    Obviously, her death had deeply affected him despite the fact that Eryx and Ligia had never really gotten along. She was just as much of a constant in his life as I was, even if he didn't care for her in the same way.
    How?
    "I don't know, exactly. It seems that she just… she just let herself go. And now her magic is fading as well."
    Ah. Well, that made a sort of esoteric sense. Hence the reason I can't feel my toes.
    "Just your toes?" Eryx asked sharply.
    And everything below where your hands are.
    "Shit," he cursed. "Shit, shit, shit." He let me go and stepped back, opening a briefcase up and laying items out on a table he'd bullied someone into bringing him. He worked quickly, but his hands were trembling. More than once, he dropped something and fetched it with a grimace, as if every lost second pained him.
    I take it you've figured out how to get me out of here, then.
    "Yes," Eryx said immediately, but he didn't meet my eye. "I managed to restore the dog I was working on."
    But … I waited.
    Eryx glared down at the objects on the table. "But it was already dead by the time I changed it back. I don't know if this will work on someone still living; it takes a lot of effort."
    How so?
    "The physical component of the spell is easy. It just acts as a focus for the power I generate. In fact, my mother probably didn't even need a focus; her magic has always been stronger than mine. It's the rest of it that's hard. I blacked out after I freed the dog," he admitted. "I couldn't move for a few days."
    I don't want you hurting yourself for my sake.
    "Shut up!" Eryx snapped at me. "After so long, so much effort, don't even try to talk me out of it." His bluster was just a shield for his worry, and I knew that worry was all for me, not for himself. He wasn't sure this was going to work. If he'd been sure, he would have come before now. He began to smear the wall with a thick paste, so pungent that I could see the acid-sharpness of it hit his nose and make his nostrils flare.
    What makes generating the power so hard?
    "It takes everything," he said after a moment, spreading the paste around. "Everything I've got and more. Mentally, emotionally… it drains me. There's nothing of science in this, and you know how I feel about that."
    Pissed off, I supplied.
    "Yes," Eryx grinned. "Exactly." He stepped back and looked over his handiwork. "That should be enough," he murmured. He moved away as he wiped his hands clean, and then took a deep breath. "I need to focus. Don't interrupt me."
    No worries. Except there were worries, at least on my part, as I watched him start to sweat. He had magicked a dead dog free of its stone prison and been left prostrate for days. The man might be immortal, but I didn't want to risk giving him a stroke if I could help it. And he wasn't even sure that this was going to work.
    Actually, I felt certain it wouldn't if he kept at it like this. He was cool and disciplined and focused, but that wasn't how I remembered Ligia's magic. She had been wild and emotional and frenzied, and it had given her strength. Eryx detested losing control of himself, but I thought he needed to. So I started talking.
    Put some muscle into it. He didn't say anything, but his lips compressed tightly for a moment. Honestly, I've been waiting for