Page 16 of Strange Familiars
“I get it,” I mumble awkwardly. “I mean, I like pudding too.”
To break the tension, I fetch the plexiglass induction chamber and hook it up to the anesthesia machine.
The machines require magic to function, which under normal circumstances would be a problem since I’ve pretty much depleted my magic stores for today. And this evening, having been interrupted by the scene in the common room, I never got the chance to complete the rationing spell to replenish it.
But luckily, as a result of recent events, I’ve unexpectedly acquired a familiar, meaning I can now channel magic directly from the air.
Some people believe that all magic comes from an alternate universe called the Void, which Magecorp and Linksphere tap into, somehow. In reality, though, it’s probably just atmospheric magic that the corporations siphon—or else a reservoir of magic harvested from mines—not that mystical, pseudoscience Void shit. It doesn’t help that both Magecorp and Linksphere are so secretive about their harvesting methods, calling it proprietary knowledge.
Gently, I place the dragon into the box before I reach for the anesthesia machine and press the refill button. Since Percy absorbed all the excess magic in the common room, the magic flows easily: power flowing from the atmosphere, through him, and then into me, coalescing in my hands.
I let it run into the machine, filling its reservoir, before turning the dial on the vaporizer and letting the magic flow into the chamber.
There’s an uncomfortable hush during which Harrisford and I both stare at Pudding, who is crouching completely motionless in the clear plastic box. I begin preparing the heat mat and the equipment I need for intubation. But I quickly run out of things to busy myself with, and we lapse back into an awkward silence. Finally, Harrisford breaks it.
“So you find me intimidating, huh?” The vulnerability is gone from his voice; instead, there’s a smirk hidden within his words.
Now it’s my turn to blush. “About as intimidating as a baby rabbit.” It’s supposed to be an insult, but its impact is lessened by the way my voice happens to crack midsentence.
Luckily Harrisford doesn’t seem to notice. “I was bitten by a rabbit once,” he says thoughtfully. “At a birthday party. I thought the magician was using real magic. Didn’t expect the blasted creature to still be in the hat.” He frowns and shakes his head. “Horrid things.”
“There you are, then,” I say. “They’re exactly like you.”
He raises one elegant eyebrow but doesn’t respond. Then he gestures to Pudding, who by now has lain down and is breathing slow and deep. “Is she ready yet?”
“I think so.” My voice has inadvertently dropped to a whisper. “Do you know how to hold her to intubate her?”
“You want me tonursefor you, Chan?” His eyes widen in mock horror.
“Just shut up and do it.” I’m losing patience. “That way we can get this over and done with faster.”
Of course, as usual, Harrisford performs his role impeccably, and I manage to get the endotracheal tube in with no drama. Together, we roll her belly-up onto the heat mat, hook her up to the anesthesia machine, and connect all the monitors, which begin to beep reassuringly. At my instruction, Harrisford takes the rebreathingbag and manually ventilates her, his eyes glued to the monitoring screen the whole time.
I work quickly, bathing the wound to ensure it’s clean and performing a healing spell. Since the skin will likely be more delicate for a few days, I wrap a little bandage around the bearded dragon’s middle. Lastly, I inject her with pain relief and a small amount of antibiotics so that the wound won’t fester, and switch the anesthesia machine off.
Recovery is always the most dangerous part of anesthetizing animals, so I leave the breathing tube in and the monitoring equipment on and continue to give Pudding small puffs of air as slowly she comes back to consciousness.
“So why did you take her, anyway?” I ask Harrisford as I check her vitals. Her carbon dioxide levels have crept up, so I give her another breath. “To the gala. Since you weren’t supposed to.”
Harrisford won’t meet my gaze. “That’s none of your business.” His tone is short.
“You’ve kind of made it my business,” I say. “When you coerced me into sneaking into the hospital at nighttime and secretly fixing your pet.”
“Coerced you?” he says, outraged, the muscle in his jaw jumping. “May I remind you that theonlyreason you agreed is so I’ll keep quiet aboutyourrule breaking—”
My anger flares. “They were going toeuthanizehim, Briggs!”
Harrisford narrows his eyes at me, his voice stony and deceptively soft. “They probably had their reasons.”
My fury explodes, running over like an overfilled cup. “Theydidn’t,” I hiss. “He was only house-soiling because he has too much magic.”
Percy’s voice cuts into my thoughts.Actually, I did rather relish targeting that horrid woman’s shoes—
Not. Helpful. Percy!I silently grit out.
Harrisford’s eyes have snapped to mine, and he looks stunned, like I’ve slapped him. “What did you say?”
Ignoring Percy, I attempt to explain. “Percy—he has too much magic. Like the rest of the familiars. Except his magiphilia has been going on for months.” I pause, suddenly aware that Harrisford hadn’t seen what had happened in the common room. “The animals were all going feral tonight, in the residential halls and the stables. Bolting and kicking and biting and escaping. You didn’t see it because you were at the gala.” I cast a look around the hospital room and at the patients resting quietly in their cages. “I think these guys only escaped it because the hospital must be protected against magical surges.” There are all sorts of protective wards and charms built into the walls of Saint Gertrude’s. I’m not sure how old the hospital is, but the building itself has been here for a very long time.
