by Phil Geusz
Not nearly long enough later, I felt myself being shaken awake. We were at the airport, and the chauffer was holding our door open. “We should hurry,” Andrew explained. “We’re running late. Can you walk? If not, I’ll carry you.”
“I’ll walk” I replied gamely as I climbed to my feet, though my back was aching something fierce from standing all through the long teleconference in Megan’s office. Unfortunately the pain didn’t lessen any as we made our way through the seemingly endless terminal. “Why did you make our reservations with Global?” I asked him, after we’d already hiked a long way. “Their concourse is five miles from everywhere.”
“Now he tells me,” Andrew muttered in reply. When we finally arrived at security, my uncle made it a point to stop me a hundred feet away from the entry gate. “Wards,” he explained.
“I know all about them,” I replied, my voice a bit testy from the pain. “I fly all the time, you know.”
“Just making certain. I’ll go on ahead and get things set up for you.” I nodded and watched as my uncle strode up to the nearest guard, displayed his sorcerer’s badge and pointed his finger at me. The guard shook his head, and my eyes widened in surprise. So did Andrew’s. He then placed his hands on his hips and began to shout. “Shit!” I murmured under my breath. I didn’t use profanity very often. But I simply was not in the mood for red tape just then, and clearly neither was my uncle. Not after the discussion we’d just had! Unfortunately, the guard was disposed to be obnoxious. He'd certainly chosen his victim poorly! Uncle Andy was a genuinely nice guy, but when his temper finally breaks the result could be a veritable tempest. In mere seconds his voice rose to a screech that didn’t require a rabbit’s ears to be plainly heard all the way across the huge lobby. “I’ll be utterly and eternally damned if I’ll subject my nephew to a personal magical examination!” he shouted. “Don’t you understand? Due to his condition he simply cannot be subjected to mana! None at all, not even the tiny amount in a hand-ward. I’m a sorcerer; I’m paid to know these things! You lease those wards from my own Guild; you’re supposed to listen to us regarding their use!”
“Mister,” the guard replied, his voice cold. “If your nephew don’t go through my checkpoint and get looked at, he don’t get on the plane. No exceptions. No matter who you say you are.” His mouth was firmly set.
“Get me your supervisor!” Andrew roared. “Immediately!”
“He’s out sick,” the guard replied with a grin. “I’m the senior man here today. Here at this security checkpoint what I say goes!” One of the other guards rolled her eyes at me; I smiled back in sympathy. My back was killing me!
“God-Damn-It!” Andrew roared, each syllable exploding as a separate thundering statement out of his barrel chest. “God-Damn-It-To-Hell!” He looked around, hoping to find someone with a fancier uniform than that of the useless man in front of him. But sure enough, there weren’t any to be found. Enraged, he spun on his heel and stomped back towards me. I felt my back tense up in just the barest hint of a panic reaction. Then the tenseness transformed itself into an agonizing spasm. I’d already stood and walked entirely too much for one day, my back was informing me in no uncertain terms. It was past time to rest.
Andrew was too angry to notice my pain. “I’m going to go find someone to get us past this imbecile before take-off time!” he declared with a shake of his fist in the direction of the security gate. “Wait here and I’ll be right back.”
“Sure thing!” I replied. Everyone in the place was staring at us by then. Usually even an obviously cursed person like me can get through an airport without making too much of a fuss via the simple expedients of keeping quiet and never stopping. But now I felt as if a spotlight was focused directly on me. Everyone was looking my way. And my back! Oh gods my aching back!
“Five minutes or less,” my uncle promised as he passed. “I’m going to pull a string.” Then he was by me and gone.
But the million staring eyes were not.
“Look, Mommy!” my sharp ears overheard a little girl saying to her mother. “A bunny rabbit!”
I tried to look away, but they were all around me, all talking about me. “Cursed,” a man was explaining to his wife. “I saw a special on TV…”
“…part animal. He’s a sign of God’s wrath at mankind for using unnatural powers…”
“…wonder if he makes the girls happy? More likely it’s two thrusts and…”
“…Mommy! I want to pet him!”
The muscles in my back were outlined in fire, and the pitiless meat-eating eyes glittered wherever I looked. I fought to remain calm, upright, human. A minute passed, then two and three and four.
And then five. And six.
My pain was absolutely terrible by then, the muscles quivering in their struggle to hold me erect. The back-brace fitted far too loosely now, and the new resized one wouldn’t arrive for days. I rocked back and forth on my feet, looking hungrily at all the empty chairs around me. Each and every one of them was designed for human anatomy and therefore couldn’t do me a bit of good. Unless I laid down across them, of course. On my side or stomach. But lying down wasn’t what my body craved, needed, was screaming for.
It wanted me to sit down. Rabbit-style. Like an animal. Right then and there. It’d felt so good when I did that before!
The minutes dragged on. Seven, eight, nine... As the tenth minute of my agony ticked away, I knew that I was finally beaten. Against my will, despite the worst self-loathing I’d ever known, I lowered my forepaws to the floor and plopped my hindquarters down on the airport carpet, sitting as an animal would in front of dozens of strangers. I felt utterly degraded, humiliated beyond belief. For a minute or more I kept my eyes closed in shame, afraid to look upon the disgusted and revolted expressions that must now surround me. But something strange happened as the time rolled by. And that something was nothing. Strain my ears though I might, I could her no new remarks being made, detect no insults being hurled. The bits of conversation I picked up were unchanged.
“….But Mommy! Why can’t I pet him? He looks like such a nice bunny!
“…Lord have mercy on his soul, as he is suffering for the sins of…”
“…bet that fur really gets the women…”
Eventually I opened my eyes. Nothing had changed in rest of the universe. But inside me, nothing would ever be the same. I’d been beaten, really and truly beaten, for the very first time. And because of it, I now felt terribly small and afraid.
“I’m back!” Andrew announced another ten minutes later, stepping briskly up behind me with a smug note in his voice. “I had to call the Mayor’s office directly and pull him out of a meeting. They’re holding our flight. And any second now…”
A woman in an expensive dress and heels came stumbling down the concourse. “Dr. Lombard?” she cried out, looking turning back and forth desperately. “Dr. Lombard? Where are you?”
“Here,” Andrew replied, the word a near growl. “Think you can help us out?”
“Oh, yes!” she answered. “Absolutely!” She looked down at me. “And I presume this is Prince Gregory?”
“None other,” Andrew replied for me.
“I’m Cathleen Madison,” she explained. “With the airport executive staff. You gentlemen will be on your way in two minutes or less—I promise! Both of you have our deepest apologies—especially you, your highness!” Then two blue-uniformed airport cops came striding up. Things were getting interesting indeed.
“Mrs. Madison?” one asked. “The Mayor’s office…”
“Yes!” she snapped. “We’re in a tremendous hurry.” She pointed at me. “This is Prince Gregory of the Sorcerer’s Guild, and his uncle Duke Andrew. His highness has a condition that makes it impossible for him to be subjected to any form of magical search. You will,” she declared emphatically, “get these two gentlemen to Gate Seven without any further delay, and without any such search. Their plane is being held.”
The cops looked at each other, then at the gate.
“Who’s the idiot that wouldn’t let them through?” the older one asked.
“Him!” my uncle declared, pointing at his nemesis. Who, it was to be noted, was now looking distinctly pale in the face.
From that point on it was easy. In mere seconds the barriers were pushed aside and the wards removed from the checkpoint. Uncle Andrew rested his hand triumphantly on my head as we waited. “Gregory,” he said. “The royalty business is highly overrated. But there are times when hereditary titles are handy things to have.”
I nodded, Andrew’s hand moving with my head. It was incredible! Even my doctor seemed unaware of my feral, animalistic posture. Was I so far gone that it looked natural to everyone else? “Uncle Andy?” I whispered.
He looked down at me for the first time. “Yes? Is something the matter?”
“I… I…” My mouth was dry, so I swallowed and began again. “My back was hurting really, really bad. I had to sit down like this. I didn’t want to, but I had to.”
He cocked his head to one side. “And you weren’t ready for it? Emotionally, I mean.”
“No!” I whispered. “I’m not ready for this at all. None of it! It’s all too soon. I’m only twenty-six!”
Uncle Andy didn’t have much to say to that. But then, no one ever did. So instead he ruffled my ears and changed the subject. “Can you walk to the gate?” he asked. “If you have to hop, you have to. No one will say anything. I promise.”
The very thought of standing up again made me wince. “I could hop,” I agreed. “But maybe there’s a cart around here somewhere?”
“Good idea! Mrs. Madison can have us one here in two shakes, I’m sure." He grinned evilly. "After all, they’re treating us like royalty.”
