Most people carried a secret or two which they never revealed to anyone else, but Kate's secret had more destructive potential than most.

As long as no one knew, she was going to be okay. As long as she was careful, nothing would happen. That was what she always told herself.

No one noticed anything that day either.

The steady beeps of a heart monitor resounded through the operating room. On a chair at the head end of the operating table sat the anesthesiologist, along with her machinery. A blue plastic drape hid the patient from view, save for the surgical site. Classic rock music flowed from the stereo in the back of the room. Not Kate's favorite genre, but she could tolerate it and knew that most of the staff liked it. The current case was nearing its end, and the scrub nurse and the surgical assistant were chattering animatedly.

Kate was a surgeon. Her brown hair which normally reached a little past her shoulders was pulled back into a bun, obscured by a blue plastic cap. A surgical mask covered her face.

She was letting her assistant take care of the stitches. She had plenty of experience as it was and it was good practice for newer staff. While she had handed over the task, the ultimate responsibility was still hers. As such she watched his movements with care.

A casual observer watching the team at the present moment might conclude that the surgery had been a breeze. The truth was far from it. Their patient was a little old lady suffering from a variety of ailments. She had been scheduled for surgery twice previously, but it had been aborted both times because her condition was too bad to risk it.

Then, Kate had been asked to take on the case. She didn't blame the other surgeons for not wanting to handle the patient. In addition to the metabolic imbalances, the disease had altered the patient's anatomy in ways that normally safe cuts could prove lethal. To Kate's colleagues, the risk was unacceptable. If Kate were a typical person, she'd have reached the same conclusion.

"That was a close shave, huh?" Kate's assistant remarked. "I never thought anyone with such messed-up insides could pull through a surgery like this."

"Language," came the warning from behind the surgical drapes. "I'd like to remind you that surgical recall is rare, but it does happen. Don't talk disparagingly about the patient." The voice belonged to Mari, the anesthesiologist on the case.

The assistant laughed nervously. "I didn't intend-"

"Oh cut the excuses." Mari peeked over the drapes. She was stick-thin but highly vocal about anything she didn't agree with. "Just don't do it again. And if you absolutely have to, for the love all that is good, do it during the most intense parts of surgery as that's when they'll be the most deeply anesthetized."

"Got it. It won't happen again." The assistant hung his head.

"But that sure was a rough ride," Mari sighed. "I trust in your skills Kate, but be careful not to take on more than you can chew off one day."

"I try not to." Kate nodded solemnly. Most of the time she was pretty good at judging which case she could handle and which ones were beyond her. But sometimes they came too close to failure for comfort. If she was any other surgeon she would probably have killed enough patients to get her fired by now.

But Kate possessed something her colleagues did not. Someone, most likely a circulating nurse though she couldn't remember exactly, had dubbed it "the Magic Touch". As Kate's reputation spread, so did the name.

In spite of her abilities, it had been challenging. The little old lady had bled more than any little old lady should, and her heart almost stopped mid-surgery. For a time Kate worried that she had taken on too much, but the team pulled together and was able to salvage the situation.

She felt relieved now that they were almost done, and quite confident that the woman hadn't sustained any lasting damage. Of course, she was going to feel the effects of the surgery, but she would've been dead in a matter of days without it.

Kate smiled when she saw the final stitch put in place. Being able to make a difference in someone's life always felt good.

A little later she was on her way to tell the woman's equally old, but by far healthier, husband about the good news. His wife had woken up without issue and was currently being taken to the post-anesthesia care unit. Kate's breath caught in her throat when she spotted the husband further down the white walled hallway. He was holding a bouquet of flowers. She hoped they were for his wife - she always felt strange about accepting gifts from her patients or their relatives.

"Missy, let's hear the good news," he hollered at her from several meters away. He was a stick of a man and his most noticeable feature was the brightly colored hand knitted sweater he was wearing. She guessed it was a gift from his wife.

The fewest relatives were this sure of themselves, and Kate preferred it that way because the optimistic ones were always the angriest if a surgery was unsuccessful. Thankfully, deaths on the table were rare even with her mix of cases.

She put on a polite smile. "Indeed, the surgery was a success. You should be allowed to see your wife before long."

The man had now reached her and grabbed her right hand with his free one. He squeezed it so intensely that she wondered if he was ever planning to let go again.

"Words cannot express how grateful I am. The other surgeons wouldn't take her case when she took a turn for the worse, but you had mercy on us." He was still gripping her hand. "Thank you so much, truly."

She resisted the urge to squirm. The old man's hand was growing damp, but he appeared not to notice. The man let go when a cough forced its way up his throat, and he needed to cover his mouth.

"We're just doing our job," she said and smiled, a forced one for his sake. She gave her standard speech about what to expect next, then answered a couple of his questions. Considering herself done, she turned around to leave.

"Wait."

She felt the tug on her sleeve and looked back. The man was extending the arm that held the bouquet in her direction.

"For you. I know it must seem silly but," he trailed off and fell silent for a spell. "I'm just so grateful. Again, thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Oh, you don't need to." Sometimes rejecting the gift worked. "I'm sure your wife would appreciate them way more than I could. She has just gone through a very taxing procedure."

The man's expression changed to a highly serious one and he shook his head. "No, Dr. Aster, I insist. I'll be able to spend more time with her. That is a gift more precious than any other, and you are the person who made that possible."

Kate plastered on another smile, the most difficult one to keep this far, as she accepted the flowers. The old man seemed to be satisfied with that. He waved goodbye, turned around and slowly walked down the hallway.

Frowning, Kate regarded the flowers. She never felt right about these moments. First off, surgery was a team effort and credit was not due to her alone. Secondly, the fact was that she hadn't been able to save the woman due to her excellent surgical skill. No one was that good. Under normal circumstances, the death of the little old lady was nearly assured. No, she had achieved success by other means and she was deceiving everyone.

No one else in the room had seen the golden glow that had appeared as she stemmed the woman's bleeding.

The thing was, Kate was a witch.

That was the secret she couldn't allow anyone to learn.