The Blade Wielders: The Provectus Wielder

Chapter 9: Impostor Syndrome

"Open wide," Fletcher the MDMR mage tells Bree.

Bree shoots him a stare so cold that Rak is surprised Fletcher does not turn to solid ice on the spot. Thankfully, he doesn't seem phased. He just waits patiently for Bree to comply, staff in one hand and a strange kind of metal stick in the other.

When Rak returned to the room Fletcher treated her in, with Bree by her side, Fletcher didn't seem the slightest bit put out. Rak explained the situation, and he just nodded at the hospital bed Rak was lying on only half an hour ago and told Bree to hop on.

Now, he raises the metal stick in his hand. "You need to open your mouth, Miss Hampshire."

Bree keeps her lips firmly clamped shut. She crosses her arms defiantly. "The last time someone told me to open my mouth in a sickly sweet tone and I refused," she says, "I lost a limb." She examines her metal hand and smiles wickedly at Fletcher. "Are you going to be torturing me too, Doctor?"

Fletcher looks rather shaken now. "I, uh, I thought you wanted my help."

Bree looks at Rak desperately. Don't make me do this, she mouths.

Rak nearly caves, but she gives herself a shake and hardens her gaze. Go on, she mouths back.

Narrowing her eyes so much that Rak fears they may permanently lodge themselves inside of her face, Bree reluctantly opens her mouth. Fletcher grunts in approval and places the metal stick on her tongue. "Hold that there," he tells her, and this time Bree does as she is told. Then, slowly, Fletcher uses his staff to create a jet of blue magic that hits the metal stick in Bree's mouth. Bree releases a muffled cry.

Rak's eyes widen. "Woah there, Doctor, what's going on?"

Fletcher just waves Rak out of his way and takes the stick out of Bree's mouth swiftly. Bree, looking scared and angry, huddled against the wall near the headboard of the bed, glances furiously over at Fletcher. She looks at Rak, who gives her the thumbs up, and she scowls.

Fletcher takes the metal stick and wipes it on a small square piece of paper, before placing it into a machine that Rak recognises at once. She has her own back in her apothecary at home and in her office at work. It is a Swab-Processor. She looks at it with interest as it processes Bree's swab - many apothecarians use such a machine to identify potions, but never has Rak seen it used as a medical device.

After about 10 minutes of painful small talk between Rak and Fletcher, while Bree remains stubbornly silent against her wall, the Swab-Processor churns to a stop and lets out a ding. Fletcher grabs a microscope from one of the desks within the room and looks down at the Processor through it. It only takes a moment before he is drawing himself back up, brushing himself down, and calmly saying, "Miss Matthias. A word outside, please."

At this, Bree's anger flares. Her eyes flash dangerously. "This is about me. I want to hear what you have to say to her, Doctor."

Fletcher flushes. "Miss Hampshire, please be patient." He reaches into a freezer tucked away neatly into the corner of the room and pulls out a blood bag. "Here," he says, tossing it to Bree, who catches it in both hands. "You look like you haven't fed in days."

Bree scoffs, but she doesn't say a word as Fletcher beckons for Rak to step outside - she only opens her blood bag desperately.

Outside the room, Rak raises an eyebrow at the mage. "So? Was it the potion that gave her the daylight ability?"

He wrings his hands together and nods. Rak struggles to suppress a gasp. "In all my years at the MDMR," Fletcher begins, "I have never seen something as extraordinary as this. I only have a mere swab of what young Bree ingested in the Fair Woodlands a week ago, but with some work... Miss Matthias, this potion could be groundbreaking for the vampire community."