Y’know people were real scared when they first met me. I mean a wizard? In 2045? Heck, I’d be terrified too, if there was some loony who could take out the entire State of Virginia at the whim of a sneeze, if I was so pleased.

To be frank, I don’t make a habit of hurting people, quite the opposite actually. Having been born in the South, a lot of folks didn't take kindly to my “special abilities”. In the early days; people used to preach outside our house, threatening us and what not ‘cause they felt that it was “un-God like” for me to have such powers.

They banned my mama from church and didn’t meet eyes with any of us when we went to town. My pops though, he got it sorted out real quick.

See, my old man alway had a proper way with words, knew how to twist a situation around with his tongue and wit, until it looked as pretty as a bow on Christmas. He went on and on about how I was really a gift from God and how dare they turn me away. By the end of his speech, they all looked like right Devil’s.

People got nicer after that. Of course there were a few who avoided our family like the plague, but they came around once they realized I could use my powers to heal their critters and fleabag cats. I never quite liked cats. That’s why I opted out of playing veterinarian a few years back and started using my abilities on real people.

It’s been some years now, I received the title of Doctor without ever having possessed a degree, my folks were real proud of that. I graduated from my sleepy town and now work internationally with sick patients from all walks of life.

But today, I’m seeing a regular.

Amy Baker, 75 years old and usually as fit as a fiddle, thanks to my handiwork. She comes in now and then for a check-up and a good old magic pick-me-up. Now that isn’t exactly my specialty, with my schedule being as packed as a western cigar, but I make an exception for my favorite librarian. Amy is home grown, worked front desk at the school library when I was a youngin. Poor thing came to me with a nasty case of stage four Cancer about ten years back, things weren’t looking too good for her. Thank the lord, her folks thought to call me. Skip three years less than a baker's dozen and she's back on my check up table with a shining new concern.

I rap on the door twice, before swinging it open with a smile fit for Times Magazine (twice.) Amy lights up like a Christmas tree before I even enter the room, sliding off the faux leather bed as softly as a piece of printer paper.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite boy!” she dotes, “Charles M. Dunken, look at how handsome you look!” I go in to hug her, her head barely meeting my belly button.

“Mrs. Baker, you know good and well I am a married man, and you, a happily married woman,” I say with a smile “ and I’m afraid it’s a little less so since the grey’s started popping up.”

“ A shame isn’t it,” she snorts, shuffling back to the table “and don’t try and act like you have a humble bone in your body, Dunken-donut, you’ve had the girls knickers in a twist ever since that 20 year reunion, you the only fella who aged like fine wine.”

I laugh, placing my clipboard on the equipment table.

“Alright, the schedules more packed than usual today so I’m afraid I can’t offer much friendly conversation, Mrs. Baker. What seems to be the problem?” In a split second, Mrs. Baker’s face aged ten years past her youth, her girlish smile gone.

“Well, about six months ago, I was getting ready to meet the girls at Horsehoe park, get the steps in for the day. However, when I turned my head, I caught this in the mirror.” Amy turned around, lifting the back of her shirt to reveal a real awful sight. What looked to be a black mole stretched to the size of a car tire, beating against her back. I take a long whistle, feeling the perimeters of the spot. It almost felt alive, like a squishy heart.

“That is a mighty mean thing Mrs. Baker. Lucky for you, you just booked yourself the best doctor for the job.” I crack my knuckles, shaping my hands like bear claws. Before she could react, a strip of blue cracked from my hands, making contact with the mole.

It doesn’t respond. I do it again, this time, it grows bigger.

Again, again, again. Bigger, Bigger, Bigger. Something wasn’t right. I step out of the room for a second, leaning on the excuse of using the wrong spell, before I dash down the hall, accidentally bumping into our top nurse.

“Doctor Dunken, you’re needed in room 552 immediately. The Prime minister needs a follow up evaluation. He developed this thing on his back, and we discovered its some kind of tumor.” I feel my face run cold.

“Nurse, are there any more cases like that?”

“Well, now that you mention it.”

Name after name. Recurring patients.

Something tells me I have a part to play in this. I grab my phone and call my old man, the only thing that makes sense. I tell him the situation and he sighs.

“Son, it’s time I tell you about a deal I made.”

“What kind of deal?” I manage to choke out, fighting the lump in my throat.

“A deal that resulted in you, I’m afraid I haven’t been so honest with you about the nature of your powers.” A pause. “He said there would be a price. I never thought it would be this.”