A/N: This fanfic is hereby dedicated to Ginny, because I was stupid enough to not notice her message until it was too late. This has nothing to do with the story.
This, however, does. Garen, Rhianon, Pyry, Weasel, Maggie, and Jeremy are all my personal characters. See my website for more information on them, or if you're confused.
Scotsmen and Blood Magic
Chapter 1: Immortal Blood
"Rhianon, ye can't be serious," Garen pleaded.
"Oh, I am," the girl insisted. "And you're going to help me with it, too."
"But ye can't bring someone back to life who's been dead near on three hundred years!"
"Watch me." Rhianon's face softened. "It's not all that difficult. You know about Einstein's theory on time travel, right?" Garen nodded. He'd only heard it five thousand times from Jeremy, who claimed to have put the idea into the scientist's head. "Well, according to that theory, time is like a river, flowing between two banks. So, in theory, it would be possible to get out of the river, and sit on one of the banks until the past catches up with you. In other words, time travel. And if you can go back in time, going forwards can't be much more difficult, can it?"
" I suppose so, but what does time travel have to do with bringing someone back to life?" Garen asked, a bit puzzled. Magical theory had never been his forte.
"Very little," Rhianon admitted. "To bring someone back, I'll need to do a little blood magic to open the gate between this realm and the realm of resting souls."
"Blood magic? Nuh-uh, no way. I am havin' nothin' to do with any blood magic."
"But the spell won't work with regular old human blood. I need immortal blood for it to work, particularly an immortal with some connection to the person being resurrected."
"No! You are not bringin' Alasdair MacGregor back from the dead. Can't ye leave him in peace?"
"But he was your friend, wasn't he?" Rhianon probed. "Wouldn't you like to see him again?"
"Magic is unnatural, Garen," Rhianon pointed out. "Come to think of it, you yourself are unnatural. That's why I need a little of your blood for the spell."
That night, Garen lay awake in his bed, thinking about what Rhianon had said. It was true that he wouldn't mind seeing Alasdair again, swap some stories, catch up on old times. Drink and cause chaos. Alasdair had been nearly twenty-three when he was killed, plenty old enough to buy beer, unlike the older, but baby-faced Garen.
"Pyry, what do you think?" Garen said to his roommate in the other bed.
Pyry looked up from his book. "What do I think of what?" he asked.
"Rhianon wants to resurrect me old drinkin' buddy, Alasdair MacGregor."
"How long has he been dead?"
"Near on three hundred years."
Pyry put a bookmark in with a sigh. It looked to be a long discussion.
"How does she plan to do it?"
"Usin' my blood to open a gate between this realm and the realm of resting souls. I don't even want to know how she'll figure out whether he's restin' or reincarnated."
"Or haunting the area where he died," Pyry pointed out. "He was killed fairly violently, wasn't he? That type of spirit tends to stick around."
"They say that if a spirit's hauntin' or restin', you can call it back with something of theirs—" Garen paled, then swore.
"Didn't you say that you and Alasdair were blood brothers?"
Garen swore again. "So I've still got some of his blood in me. Theoretically the summoning should work. I hate it when Rhianon's right."
"She'll probably arrange some nasty way to get blood from you if you won't give it willingly. And who knows? Maybe if this works, you can get her to resurrect Maggie."
The glare Garen shot over at his roommate would have sent a lesser man running for his life. As it was, Pyry shivered. "Maggie is dead," Garen said. "I've come to grips with it after over five hundred years. If she were to suddenly be alive—I don't know how I'd face her. And there are risks—" He shook his head fiercely. "No, Maggie either stays dead, or gets reincarnated somewhere far away from me. I don't think I could bear it."
Pyry thought of Lily, their downstairs neighbor that Garen had admitted to having a crush on. Perhaps it was better for Maggie to stay dead after all.