Old Dogma New Tricks (The Elven Prophecy Book 2)

by Theophilus Monroe

  “Thank you, sir,” the man said.

  “Would you like to come forward?” I asked. “I presume you have a child who is ill?”

  “My son,” the man said. “He was diagnosed with leukemia just yesterday.”

  I nodded. “Come here, young man.”

  The man came forward with his son. Looking at him, aside from his being slightly emaciated, you wouldn’t realize he was sick. He just looked like a thin kid. Not uncommon, but he’d barely been diagnosed. They caught it early, and hopefully, he’d be able to beat it, but I knew enough about what he’d have to go through. Chemo. Radiation. Bone marrow transplants.

  “How old are you, son?” I asked.

  “I’m ten,” the boy said.

  I nodded. Too young to have to go through all that. This wasn’t going to be a sensational healing, but it didn’t need to be. I wasn’t doing it to get the attention of humans. I wasn’t even doing it solely to get the attention of the fairy. I genuinely wanted to help. Still, I needed the fairy. If I didn’t get his attention, if we couldn’t catch him and convince him to help, we’d all be screwed sooner or later.

  I placed my hand on the boy’s head.

  “Your name?” I asked.

  “Salim,” the boy said.

  “I love that name,” I said, then closed my eyes and focused. I imagined the boy well, his blood pure, his hair full. I pictured him receiving a clean bill of health from the doctors. I felt the tingle from my hand into the boy’s body. In my mind’s eye, I saw his body enveloped in a golden hue.

  I opened my eyes and what I had seen in my mind’s eye was right in front of my face. Based on the look on the rest of the people’s faces, they could see it too. This wasn’t one of those magical things like the elven gate that only a magically attuned person could see. Everyone witnessed it.

  I heard a few gasps.

  “That kind of tickles,” Salim said.

  I smiled. “You’re well, Salim.”

  “Thank you!” Salim’s father said. His mother was in tears.

  “Bring him to the doctor as soon as possible. Get medical confirmation and continue to follow their advice and prescriptions.”

  “Of course! Again, thank you! Praise Allah!”

  I smiled, then I walked up to a child in a wheelchair. His chair was in the center aisle, and his parents were in the pew beside him.

  “A spinal injury,” the boy’s mother said. “From a car accident. The doctors said he would never walk.”

  I didn’t have children, but I could imagine how painful it must’ve been to hear that news. How awful it was to imagine a boy who wasn’t even a teenager yet, who could have played sports, who could have danced, and find out he couldn’t do any of those things if he wanted to.

  I touched his back and healed him like I’d healed the first boy.

  He didn’t stand up. That might take time. By the looks of his legs, he’d been paralyzed for a while, and they were thin and weak. But his foot moved, then his other foot moved a little, too.

  “Oh, my God!” the boy’s mother cried as she embraced her son. He was giggling with delight. So much joy for a small movement of the foot.

  “Again,” I said. “Bring him to the doctors. They’ll recommend whatever therapy he needs to learn to walk again.”

  The whole evening was like that. One heart-wrenching tragedy after another, each one alleviated as I seemed to heal them. Of course, the cancers weren’t immediately obvious, but they had the glow, as the young Muslim boy had had when I healed him. I was as certain as I could be that it had worked.

  Truthfully, I’d never believed in faith healing. I used to make fun of the preachers who conducted fake healing services on television. People with psychosomatic conditions receiving psychosomatic cures—that was my explanation. From what I could tell from my sporadic internet research, very few of those healings lasted long-term, and some of the folks involved had admitted they had not been sick or injured to begin with. In other words, there was enough evidence to question the legitimacy of most of the purported miracles. Perhaps some of them were genuine, but when there were questions surrounding so many of them, you doubted them all.

  But this, what was happening here and now, was different.

  Yes, it was magic. It wasn’t the sort of miracle you’d expect a genuine prophet to perform. But then again, if I wielded the Earth’s magic, a magic that had been part of primordial creation, which had been responsible for making everything that exists, something powerful enough to vivify a dead planet to give the elves and the giants a home, who was to say that God couldn’t be credited for it? It was all a matter of perspective and faith. Was this magic part of God’s world from the beginning that had been latent within the Earth he had called into existence? Or was it an undiscovered material substance? Something as natural as oxygen, only not understood by science. Was it magic at all?

  I couldn’t answer any of those questions for certain, but I knew it worked. I also knew things couldn’t go back to the way they had been. Not for me. Not for Holy Cross. And certainly not for these dozens of children who had gotten their lives back.

  Even if I couldn’t save the world, it was worth it.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Good work tonight,” Layla said. “It was something to see you healing. To see the looks on people’s faces. The feeling of hope was in the air. It was palpable.”

  I smiled slightly. “It was, wasn’t it? Let’s hope it worked.”

  I nodded, retrieved my set of keys from my pocket, and locked the church door.

  “You did magic, a lot of it, in front of humans. I don’t know how a fairy could resist.”

  We turned to go down the set of steps in the front of the church, and I stepped on something squishy. I barely got a look at it before my foot slipped out from beneath my body.

  It happened in slow motion. My leg kicked into the air. My body fell to the ground.

  My back cracked as I hit the ground. I winced in pain. It wasn’t broken, but I was sure I was going to need a chiropractic adjustment and a solid dose of ibuprofen.

  “Are you okay, Caspar?” Layla asked as she knelt beside me.

  I laughed out loud. “Well, I think it worked.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t just slip and fall?” Layla asked.

  I’d seen it on my way down—the cause of my tumble. I reached down to where my foot had stepped and retrieved a banana peel. “Seriously? Slipping on banana peels is a real thing? I thought it was something that only happened in cartoons and Mario Kart.” Layla giggled. “Classic. That had to be the fairy’s work.”

  “Do you see him anywhere?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” Layla said, surveying our surroundings, her hand extended with magic aglow on her fingertips. I wasn’t sure what spell she had in mind. She knew a bunch because she had been raised on a magical world, but since I’d met her, I’d only seen her use magic a handful of times.

  You’d think if you could wield mystical powers, you’d be constantly doing spells like enchanting household objects to do your chores, teleporting, or flying to and fro. Truth be told, though, magic was exhausting. Not paralyzingly so. I hadn’t done anything yet, not even my flight across the city, that had completely drained me of energy. But every spell left me feeling like I’d just completed a marathon. No, not just after finishing it, when the endorphins were still pumping. More like a couple of hours later, after my body had cooled down.

  Or after eating Chinese food. That was a similar kind of tiredness.

  In other words, I’d come to learn through my limited experience that magic could be taxing on the body. Like anything else, I supposed, I’d have to build up endurance for it and a keen sense of when to use it and when not to.

  Layla, not a level-five sorcerer but powerful nonetheless, had more trained endurance than I did. But let’s face it, even professional athletes crashed after their games. Layla was careful about when she used her magic, and since we’d been living in the perp
etual expectation of some kind of mystical shit hitting the fan pretty much since we met, she’d wanted to stay alert and ready. Yes, she and I both had to sleep, and I needed to work out and train. But if magic wasn’t strictly necessary, she avoided using it.

  All things considered, I wasn’t tired. Despite the massive amount of mystical energy I’d channeled to heal twenty or more children, and despite just landing on my back in front of my church, I was invigorated.

  Maybe I’d crash later. Maybe not. But right now, I needed to help Layla find the fairy.

  I stood up, not too quickly. By the feel of my back, I’d thrown at least one of my lumbar disks out of whack. In my experience, the worst of that sort of back pain sets in later. For the time being, I could press on. And I needed to.

  I pushed my hand into my lower back.

  “Here,” Layla said, putting her hand where it hurt. I felt a quick jolt and the mild stiffness that was destined to become a lot more if untreated went away. The muscles in my lower back immediately relaxed.

  “Thanks!” I said. “You could put the chiropractors out of business with that touch.”

  Layla winked at me. “I think I’ll focus on helping you save the world first.”

  A buzz startled my attention. Not the sort you heard if a gnat flew into your ear, more like the sound a hummingbird’s wings made when it was feeding nearby.

  I turned and saw the green glow I’d noticed when he’d terrorized me.

  Before I could respond, Layla shot a jolt of energy at the fairy.

  He dodged her strike.

  I swung my arm at him, trying to catch him. It was not like I had much of a chance. I’d caught a few fireflies that way, but catching a fairy in mid-air was more challenging. Not only could he move faster than lightning bugs, but he was guided by his intelligence.

  The creature giggled annoyingly as he buzzed around my hand. He hovered two inches in front of my face for a moment.

  I swiped at him again.

  The fairy made a quick spin around my hand, then threw himself against the tip of my nose.

  “Ouch!” I said.

  “Nice haircut, human!” The fairy cackled as he buzzed around my head. Now I knew he could communicate, but I half wished he couldn’t. The thing had a voice that was comparable to Gilbert Gottfried’s on the annoying scale.

  I was getting a little tired of non-human creatures referring to me as “human.” I had a name, after all.

  Layla took another shot, green chains of magic flying from her fingertips.

  Again, the fairy dodged the blast, buzzed around her, and grabbed her by the back of her pants.

  “Ouch! Wedgie!” I shouted, trying my best not to laugh.

  Layla shrieked.

  The fairy buzzed off with a swath of frilly pink cloth in his hands.

  Just in time to meet a giant paw—Brag’mok’s hand, swiping through the air and catching him by the wings.

  “Let me go, you brute!” the fairy shouted.

  “No can do,” Brag’mok said.

  “Nice work, buddy,” I said.

  Layla was still rubbing her ass. I mean, a wedgie strong enough to rip her panties off was brutal.

  Brag’mok held the little guy in front of my face.

  He wasn’t as ugly as I’d imagined. In fact, he was kind of cute, human-like in terms of shape, with greenish-brown skin and two semi-translucent wings. His hair, though, was bright blue and frizzled on his head in a way that would resemble Bob Ross’s if he’d ever dunked his head in his paint.

  “Sorry,” I said. “We did all this because we had to catch you. We need your help.”

  The fairy spat in my face.

  A creature that small doesn’t produce much saliva. It was only a small spritz.

  I wiped it off my cheek.

  “I’m serious,” I said. “Don’t your kind travel in swarms?”

  The fairy huffed.

  “It seems you’ve been exiled,” I said. “So I’m guessing you aren’t entirely on board with what the rest of the fairies are up to.”

  “They’re morons!” the fairy said. “They think the elves from the other world are friends. Allies. But they’re worse than the humans!”

  “I agree,” I said.

  “But you humans aren’t any picnic either. You might not use magic, but you’ve created your own. Your smog. Your pollution. You destroy the Earth too! The rest of us are trying to stop you!”

  “But allying with those who’ve used magic to wage wars for centuries?” I asked.

  “At least it’s on another planet. Once they use up their magic, they’re done!”

  “True,” I said. “But do you think they’ll do any better if they come here and defeat humanity?”

  The fairy snorted. “That’s why I’m alone.”

  “Then will you help us stop them?” I asked.

  “For a price,” the fairy said. “Only if you can meet my price.”

  I shrugged. “What do you want?”

  “Silly string.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Silly string?”

  “The stuff is hilarious!” the fairy exclaimed. “If you get me silly string, lots of it, I’ll talk to you about helping.”

  I snorted. “It’s a deal. I’m Caspar, by the way.”

  “I know who you are, dummy,” the fairy said. “I’m Ensley.”

  “Please to meet you, Ensley,” Layla said.

  Ensley smiled wide. “Sorry about your butt crack. I couldn’t resist.”

  Layla chuckled. “I think I’ll be fine.”

  “’Sorry about your butt crack,’” I said, laughing as I repeated Ensley’s apology. “That’s not something someone has to tell you every day.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Holy shit!” Agnus screamed as we walked through the door. “Who farted?”

  I tossed four Walmart bags full of silly string on the couch. “No one did. We caught the fairy.”

  “Disgusting!” Agnus said. “It smells like you after one of your Taco Bell binges.”

  “Or after my Greenberry shake.”

  “Oh, did that come?” Layla asked. “That stuff is supposed to be incredible.”

  I scratched the back of my head. “If incredibly nauseating was what you were thinking, then sure.”

  By the loud thuds coming from outside the apartment, I ascertained that Brag’mok and Ensley were nearly at the top of the stairs.

  “I want my silly string!” Ensley insisted.

  “If we give it to you, you’ll help us?” I asked. “You won’t just buzz off and show back up later to short-sheet my bed?”

  “I can’t promise no pranks,” Ensley said. “I am what I am. But I will help if I can.”

  “We’re looking for how to wield fairy power,” Layla said. “Like the ancient druid who took our people to New Albion did when he forged the gate and created the Blade of Echoes.”

  “Give me a can of silly string,” Ensley said.

  “Can you help or not?” I asked.

  “Give me the can and we’ll talk.”

  I opened one of the cans and handed it to Ensley. He pointed it at Agnus and shot him right in the face.

  Agnus meowed loudly and hissed, taking off after Ensley, who simply flew over him.

  Agnus leaped up and down, trying to snag the fairy with his claws. “Get down here, you little shit!”

  Ensley pointed the can at Agnus and hit him in the face a second time.

  Agnus shook it off and stared at me.

  “Screw you guys. I’m going home.” Agnus sauntered to the back bedroom.

  “Can you two behave?” I asked. “We don’t have time for your antics.”

  “He’s the one who compared my natural aroma to Taco Bell farts,” Ensley protested. “Believe it or not, the ancients hunted us, not to kill us, but that they might bathe in our scent.”

  “They hunted you for your body odor?” I asked.

  “They found it intoxicating.”

  “Gross!”
Layla protested. “Not that I can tell. You don’t smell like much as far as I can tell.”

  “Oh, honey,” Ensley said. “If I poofed in your face, you’d be begging me for more.”

  “Poofed?” I asked.

  “We don’t fart,” Ensley said. “We poof. It’s glittery and smells of lavender.”

  I chuckled. “Makes sense. Cats can’t stand the smell of lavender.”

  Layla cocked her head. “Really? I had no idea.”

  I nodded. “Lavender, geranium, most citrus. We like the smells, but as Agnus would say, to cats, it reeks like ass.”

  “Can we stay on topic?” Brag’mok interrupted. “My brother’s body is in the hands of elves. They’re dishonoring his memory, his sacrifice.”

  I bit my lip. I hadn’t thought about the pain Brag’mok must be experiencing. Not just because his brother was being disrespected, but because of the bond giants felt to their kin, a bond that required a particular death rite to sever. He was in anguish, and we were making comparisons between fairy body odor and taco farts.

  “I’m sorry, Brag’mok,” I said. “We weren’t being sensitive.”

  “I don’t care if you’re sensitive,” Brag’mok said. “Just focus on what must be done.”

  I nodded. “Ensley, is what we describe possible? Could I wield fairy magic to re-open the gate between worlds? Could I create something like a new Blade of Echoes?”

  Ensley buzzed around me. “What you ask is possible, but it is not something that is often permitted. Fairies and humans…”

  “I know,” I said. “You can’t stand us.”

  “It’s not that,” Ensley said. “We used to get along beautifully, we and the druids of old. With the new religion, the new world, then human machines and industry, humanity lost its need for us, and instead of turning to magic to preserve the world, created their own magic to destroy it.”

  “Magic?” I asked.

  “What is that little glowing square in your pocket?” Ensley asked.

  “It’s a phone,” I said.

  “How does it work?” Ensley asked. “If you woke up on a deserted island, could you make one for yourself?”