Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The number of shocked and horrified looks Alistair got as he led Elijah to his car was astonishing.
And it seriously pissed him off. He didn’t know how long Elijah had worked at Spellbound, but it was long enough for him to make friends.
People should have known by now that he wasn’t a threat.
His opinion of Spellbound diminished with each passing glance, and he was practically seething by the time they made it to the car.
“Don’t be angry,” Elijah whispered. “They just don’t know any better.”
He wasn’t surprised Elijah was picking up on his emotions.
He had been upfront when he explained that he gleaned information unwittingly when people felt strong emotions.
It probably didn't help that he was pressed up against Alistair’s side like he was.
It made Alistair feel better to hold him, though.
The man’s already pale features were milky white because of the pain and he looked close to tears.
Alistair’s protective instincts were screaming at him, and the only thing he could think to do that wouldn’t end up with him possibly losing his job was to hold him.
“They aren’t even trying,” he grumbled. He took a few deep breaths, though, to settle himself. He didn't want to make things worse for Elijah just because he was pissed off.
Elijah huffed a small laugh, leaning into Alistair’s side as Alistair fished in his pockets for his keys.
“Do you truly blame them? You’ve experienced the kind of trauma one lives through if a telepath takes liberties.
Stories like that alone are enough to make people wary. I don’t hold it against them.”
Maybe it was because Alistair had experienced the other side of things that he was so bothered by how people treated Elijah.
He’d felt the pain of someone forcing their way into his head.
He knew what it felt like to be toyed with.
Imagining someone as sweet as Elijah doing something like that was…
He just couldn’t see it. And if people truly gave him a chance, they’d realize that, too.
Elijah hummed, drooping a little. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked as he pulled the passenger door open and guided the poor man inside.
“You’re feeling very protective. No one outside of my family ever felt that way before. So, thank you.”
From the way his words were slurring, Elijah was mostly asleep.
Alistair chose not to reply, leaning across the man to buckle his seatbelt.
When he moved away, he studied Elijah’s face, taking in the constellation of freckles across his nose and the way his glasses sat a little crooked on his face.
Alistair took them off, setting them in the cupholder.
“Get some rest. I’ll wake you when we get home.”
He got no response and from the deep breathing, Elijah was out cold. Good. He’d mentioned rest would help. Still, Alistair would stop at a pharmacy to pick up some pain potions to be safe.
He had questions about why Elijah was suffering the way he was, and whether it had anything to do with using his magic, but he didn’t want to pester the man the minute he woke up.
Instead, while he was standing in line to speak with the pharmacist, he pulled up a web search on the subject.
Nothing he could find said anything about telepaths experiencing pain after using their magic.
“Next,” the pharmacist called.
Alistair tucked his phone away, stepping up to the counter. The pharmacist, a middle aged witch with a long beard and hooked nose greeted him with a bored expression.
“How can I help you?”
“I need a pain potion,” Alistair said. There were generalized pain potions, but pharmacists could make something specific if they were given more information. “Can you make something specific for headaches?”
The pharmacist hummed, and plants and other ingredients started floating off the shelves toward them, settling beside the pestle and mortar in front of him.
“What kind of headache?” the pharmacist asked blandly.
Alistair shook his head. “I didn’t have a chance to ask. He was rubbing his temples, though, and he was unusually pale. I think the light was bothering him too, because he flinched when I took him outside.”
“Species?”
“Telepath.”
The pharmacist’s hands faltered, and the group waiting in line behind Alistair all stirred with obvious discomfort. Alistair ignored it, eyes on the pharmacist, who suddenly looked concerned.
“I need more information,” he insisted. “When did it start? What was he doing when it started?” His eyes shifted over Alistair’s shoulder, searching like he expected Elijah to be somewhere behind him.
Alistair was pretty sure people would be making a fuss or acting weird if that were the case. “Are they here?”
“He’s in the car. But why does any of that matter?”
Looking over his shoulder, he called out to a younger witch in a training smock. “Aster, take over here. I need to see the patient.”
A part of Alistair wanted to refuse. He felt oddly protected of the sweet man asleep in his car, and after the way everyone seemed to react to him, there were very few people he trusted around Elijah while he was so vulnerable.
The witch didn’t give him a choice. He bustled around the counter, shooing Alistair toward the door.
“To answer your question, telepaths are prone to migraines if they overextend their magic or if they’ve suffered a psychological attack.
My brother’s mate is a low-level telepath and gets them often.
If the pain is too bad, though, you’ll need to bring him to a hospital.
Not even my best pain potions could touch that kind of pain. ”
The thought of Elijah being in such intense pain that he needed to be hospitalized made Alistair’s stomach churn. Elijah said he’d be better with some rest. What were the chances he was downplaying things to not worry him?
Elijah was still asleep in the front seat, his body slumped against the door in a way that made it difficult for it to open without risking him falling out.
Alistair had to open it a crack and slip his hand in to steady the man before he could open it all the way.
The witch peered around him, eyes narrowed as he took in Elijah’s state.
“What did you say he was doing before this started?”
“Employee interviews,” Alistair answered. “I’m not sure how many or how long they took. I wasn’t there. I just know that was the plan for the afternoon.”
The witch nodded, pulling out a crystal from his pocket and waving it near Elijah’s head. It glowed for a moment, then dimmed considerably. The witch frowned.
“That’s… concerning.”
“What?” Alistair almost wanted to say forget it and bring Elijah to the hospital anyway. Whatever was going on with him, he wasn’t okay.
“How long has he been suppressing his magic like that? He’s using a great deal of magic just to hide it.”
The witch didn’t wait for a reply, pulling out more from his pockets and whispering spells.
Alistair couldn’t answer even if he’d been given the chance.
He knew nothing about suppressing magic.
With the magic blockers, he couldn’t use the spell to test Elijah’s power, and the man never mentioned it to him.
It didn’t surprise him, though. Elijah was always going out of his way to make other people comfortable.
If he thought shoving his magic down so no one would feel him, he’d do it, damned the consequences.
Elijah’s eyes fluttered open, squinting to see without his glasses. “What… What’s going on?”
“Your friend here wanted a potion for your migraine. The potion will do nothing if you’re still using your magic to suppress your abilities. You’re magically drained. You can’t afford to act that way,” the pharmacist chided.
A little furrow appeared between Elijah’s eyebrows, but straining to see was obviously painful because he flinched and shook his head.“I don’t–”
“I’ll whip something up for you, but if you truly want to get better, you need to release your hold on your magic.
Have you not been taught how bad that is for you?
You could shorten your lifespan wasting that kind of energy,” the pharmacist chastised, straightening.
“Wait here. I’ll be back in a few moments.
” He twisted to look at Alistair. “You did the right thing bringing him here. There are some other potions I think might help if you’ll come with me.
Over the counter, of course, but they’ll do their job as long as he stops being so stubborn. ”
Alistair wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Elijah alone now that he understood better what was happening, but he needed the potions. Even now, he was wincing and his color wasn’t any better.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. He was about to close the door behind him when Elijah’s voice stopped him.
“You don’t have to go through all the trouble. It’ll pass.”
“You shouldn’t have to suffer in the meantime. Just rest. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He waited for Elijah’s slow nod of agreement before closing the car door quietly and heading back inside. The pharmacist was back behind the counter, mixing up a potion, and he jerked his chin to a few more bottles waiting beside him.
“The green one will give a small boost to his magic, which should help with the pain. The other is a sleeping draught. He needs rest. Without suppressing his magic,” he added with a scowl.
“I understand why he feels the need, telepaths are treated poorly in the city especially, but it’s the worst thing for him.
He’s hurting himself. And any attempts at using his magic will only make it worse. ”
“How so?” Alistair asked. He wanted as much information as he could get before speaking to Elijah again. He got the feeling it would be a fight to get the man to stop what he’d been doing.
The pharmacist’s hands kept grinding herbs as he explained, “Imagine it like this: his mind is like a car, his magic running the engine. He’s purposely applied the emergency brake to make sure the car doesn’t move, but then he’s trying to use the engine to go forward anyway.
It’ll go with enough force, but it’s bad for the entire system if he does.
And eventually, something is going to fail from the effort. ”
“Will there be side effects from suppressing it for a while?” He didn’t know how long Elijah had been doing it, but he would be surprised if it hadn’t been years at the very least.
The pharmacist shook his head, his attention on pouring the now liquid from the bowl into a bottle.
“Not like what you’re thinking. He likely won’t have an explosion of magic like a mage might when releasing their magic.
” The pharmacist shot a look at Alistair’s wrists, still covered by his shirt.
How the witch knew they were there, he didn’t know, nor was he going to discuss it.
“Most likely, he might feel a little spacey and possibly experience some discomfort from stretching those disused magical muscles. It should be gone in a day or two. As long as he stops doing what he’s doing.
” He leveled Alistair with a look while handing him the bag of potions.
“I’m going to emphasize again that he needs to stop what he’s doing.
Telepaths with his kind of power who suppress their abilities are prone to illness and early death.
His body is working so hard to suppress that amount of magic that he has nothing else to protect himself.
You need to get through to him. His life depends on it. ”