“Sana et Mederi. Sana, sana, Mike, sana, sana,” Victoria
chanted. It was going on the third hour she sat on the floor of Derrick’s attic
conjuring potions, performing rituals and casting magic. Tirelessly, she’d
researched information on cures and healing spells and though none ever seemed
to work she was determined to keep trying. And Hades, her loyal and lovable
companion, stood watch over his master while she went in and out of trance. Taking
hold of the Athamé, she slit her palm open and let the drops of her blood pour
into the mortar and crushed it between herbs with her pestle. “Exurge, exurge,
exurge. Sana, sana. Látum lausa Draco Sanguinem. Sana, sana, sana,” Victoria continued.
