Published: 1 Apr 2024

Octave Up

So, what would you do? I went back inside, tossed the newspaper on the kitchen table, ran up to my room and laid the pictures on my desk. I also quickly shed my jeans for a pair of jean shorts because I started to sweat just hanging out there with Sgt. Ozzie. It was a bit warmer than I expected when I went out to talk to the cop. It also could be that I started sweating when I out and out lied to the cop.

So I was sitting there, staring at the image and wondering what was going on. Why did he lie to me about who he is? Who is he really? And then the whole Mage thing entered into it as well. Did he know about my powers? Did he have powers as well? Did he have anything to do with the skronks? And how did this Card guy fit into it?

It was so confusing. But I had to keep my head. I had to focus and get what information I could. Didn’t want to. I wanted to just push through Forces and pin “Jace” to the wall. I needed to be diplomatic and sneaky. To set and control the environment. It wasn’t just my ego at stake now.

I cheated and Correspondenced myself to the bottom of the stairs and turned into the kitchen, just as “Jace” was coming around the back steps at the back door. I quickly schooled my features into a happy smile. At least I hope I did.

“Hey, there you are.”

“Here I am. How was the thing with the cop?”

“Uh, it was unexpected,” I said, hopping up to put my butt on the kitchen counter-top, which is a big no-no with Mom. I readied my mental state to enact some simple spells I had attached to my person. And I Correspondenced a stone off my dresser and kept it in my pocket.

Oh, I should explain that. As a kid, I collected rocks. Not any simple rocks, mind you. We would go into a book store and my older brother Ernie would always get a book or magazine. I would get rock. Like at the gemstone displays that you find near the front end. I always liked the smooth stones, sometimes with different colors. I hadn’t thought about that tendency of my younger self, but it was probably my own research into the magic inherent in different things.

Most people simply see a pleasing if overpriced shiny bit of stone. I saw a cool thing that needed deeper introspection. Call it my nerd side making itself known at an early age. I would spend hours staring into some aspect of a stone, turning it into the light, examining each crevice and valley, every turn and curve. Almost obsessively. So I saw one of my childhood pretties and had scooped it up into my pocket. I had a plan for it.

“What did he talk to you about?” he asked, casually plopping himself in a chair. He cleaned up real nice, in puffy gym shorts and a loose, breezy Royals tee shirt and ball cap. I mean… the Royals? But he was playing the question real cool. Despite his perfectly imperfect gap-toothed grin. And still wet from a shower hair. And those piercing blue eyes.

“Get a grip, Marc,” I told myself. Had to keep my cool, had to keep control. The Unicorn’s Gift tightened comfortably on my wrist, sensing the magic I was using, eager to help.

“He had some posters I wanted to put up, you know, missing kids. Runaways sometimes come through Barnie’s. There’s a story to that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh sure. Goes like this,” I began. “This kid from the Midwest, Iduno, like a buncha years ago, back when Barnie was still alive, this kid was hitch-hiking in to see his father. Some divorce thing. He’d run away from his Mom, didn’t like the new boyfriend I guess. His dad and stepmom lived out in Salisbury with their kid, by the shore. So he was passing through town, short on cash, Barnie lets him eat for free. Two nights he hangs around, trying to his last quarter to get his father to pick up. Barnie’s had a pay phone back then.”

“Wait, a pay phone?” he asked, eyes bulging. “Like from the dark ages?”

“Yeah, that far back. So the kid keeps calling his dad’s house, but nobody, not his step brother, his step mom, no one picks up the house phone.”

“Geeze. Poor guy.”

“Later found out the family got murdered while on a trip to Greece. Pirates, some cruise ship thing. All very tragic. But, no one could reach the kid to let him know all this time, and there’s a frantic search for him everywhere.”

“Oh my god!” he goes, partly covering his face. “So then what happened?”

“Barnie ends up putting him through college. Takes the kid in and later adopts him. Kid was 13 when this all happened.”

He tilted his chair back onto two legs, which would make any parent furious. “Wow, sounds like Barnie was a real pillar of the community.”

“Yeah. I never met him. I mean the whole thing happened like years before I was even born. And Barnie died like fifteen years ago. Still, it left an imprint on the area. Kid became a lawyer, moved back to Kansas. When Barnie passed on, his niece took over the business. The family used to own one of the bigger local dairies back in the days when milk got delivered each morning in glass bottles, like a subscription for Office.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, about 50 years ago, like in the 60’s or something, the place was just an ice cream shop. But Barnie had the idea to make it a drive up place. You know, waitresses on roller skates and stuff like that. The skates went away but the idea kinda stuck. Turned Barnie’s into a local summertime draw.”

“Cool. So, do you like flipping burgers? Or is it more about the ice cream for you?” he smiled, with that gap leading the way.

“Well, I do flip a mean burger, but the ice cream is cooler,” I grinned. “I don’t mind flipping burgers. Keeps me in pocket money. And it keeps Ethan outta Mom’s hair when he shows up some nights.”

“Yeah. Must be great for him. I guess the dairies are all closed down now?”

“Bought by bigger firms when they went into grocery stores, I guess. Some are still around, doing more ice cream and cheese products. Can you imagine how many people that would be, to, like, have daily milk deliveries in Canterbury, every morning? Especially after snow flies.” I was getting into the conversation, oddly enough. Had to keep my wits about me, though. Get things back on track.

“Too bad. I practically grew up on my grandpa’s farm. He had lots of cows. Fresh milk is the best. I think it was a dairy farm, but he did some meat cows too. Steers.”

“Must have been rough on you when your Dad got orders to go overseas.”…

“Wasn’t easy. You get used to it, though. Pull up stakes every three years, shuffle off to god knows where. You mean to stay in touch with friend back at different bases but… it’s difficult.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Relaxed, guard down, feeling good.

I decided to play my hand.

“So, who is Jace?” I said, kind of upbeat. I had pulled my stone out of my pocket, just a plain bit of white turquoise, about as thick as my thumb, oddly shaped, with the veining running across the top third. I leaned over my knees from the counter-top,

“That’s always the question,” he smiled back. Damn, that grin! Moment of truth time. I quickly switched some things around with a brief touch on the Spheres and I was ready to make my move.

“Yeah, it really is… since the police are looking for you, Christopher,” I said, reaching out to lift the newspaper up, pushing the picture from Sgt. Ozzie onto the kitchen table with another use of Correspondence. I dropped the paper back on the end of the table and the picture went WHOOSSH forward right to his hands. Okay, I might have cheated to get it do go right to his hands, but it was all coincidental magic, completely believable that the picture was always there, and the drift was absolutely perfect.

He looked at the picture, then looked up to me, his mouth worked open and closed a few times as if trying to figure out what to say. I cautiously pulled the rock out of my pocket, but kept it concealed in my hand. Jace, or Christopher, put the paper on the desk. He looked at me and sighed.

“At least I don’t have to keep going with the lie,” he said, setting the printout on the table, face down. “You probably have lots of questions.”

“You might say that. Just what kind of trouble are you in, Christopher, if that’s your real name?”

“Well they got that part right,” he admitted. “I do go by CeeJay, from time to time, but I will answer to Chris or Christopher. None of that Topher bull shit, please.”

“Good to know. So, what’s the deal, dude? Why the whole Jace deception? And how do you know the neighbors across the street?”

“I don’t. They’re out of town. I just broke in. I kind of followed you home, up to a point. I saw those things tracking you and your little bro. Figured you were a goner.”

“It was a close call. But you didn’t see the fight?” I asked, worried that he might have seen Meryl’s intervention.

“Lost sight of you when they started closing in. I hung back. Didn’t see how it turned out, but I guess you guys got away clean.”

“More or less.”

“It got cold in their wake and I choose to stay out of it. Thought you were dead. But then I heard you later, making noise in the woods, further on. So I watched, following.”

“And then you saw me come home?” I guessed. He nodded. “Which is why you texted.”

“From under your bedroom window,” he admitted with a shrug. “Saw the light come on and made an educated guess you’d hit me back.”

“And the neighbors?”

“I had time to kill. No car parked out front, none in the garage. Wasn’t hard to pick the lock.” He took that moment to look up into my eyes. “It’s not what you think. I don’t just break into random houses and trash the places. Just wanted a couch to sleep on instead of a park bench with the homeless and crazies about… or worse.”

Okay, I could buy that explanation. Summer nights in northeastern Massachusetts were mild but they wind coming off the river could be chilling. And after the kind of chill I generated in that fight, I can believe he might have felt a need for more shelter. But there were many more questions I had.

“So, what were those things?” he asked, leaning over his knees to tilt his head sideways at me.

“My brother calls the skronks. They stunk like skunks.”

“I can believe that!” he said, animatedly. I chose to press the conversation my way, tapped into Mind Sphere to project a bit more authority into my voice.

“So, Chris,” I said, getting a slight nod from him, and a flat expression to his lips. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

“I’m not,” he said, spreading his hands. One went up to the picture on the table. “I’m actually free, trying to stay ahead of trouble.”

“How’s that?”

“Okay, so you know I’m from KC. Your cop buddy probable told you I ran away.”

“He mentioned that,” I said guardedly.

“Probably said something about my parents being dead.”

My eyes flew open at that. “Go on.” And I gave him a subtle push with Mind sphere again, to keep him talking.

“I didn’t kill them, okay,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “At least, I don’t think I did. I mean, I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” His entire posture changed, leaning deeply over his knees. His head sank, as if trying to hide behind the screen of his hair.

“What happened?” I said, feeling suddenly very sorry for whatever he’d gone through. But I shook my own head. Had to remain objective here. Strong. I was the Mage, I was in control. The Unicorn’s Gift on my wrist felt cool, and pulsed gently, as if ready to aid me. My pinky and ring fingers closed around the horn part, at the base of my thumb.

“It’s all kind of a blur. The fire… the fire, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know what really went on. I was scared,” he said looking up, his eyes red as if on the verge of tears. “My sister wasn’t home. Off at Iowa State. Just me and the folks. Weird things had been happening. Ever since I met him.”

“Him?” I pressed, rolling the rock around in my palm. I wasn’t sure where he was going, but I knew he was a gifted liar, so I asked without offering him anything to build on. Had to keep what Meryl would call a “healthy skepticism” about this boy. Couldn’t let my personal feelings for him interfere. More than just my life could be in play here. “Him who?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out with a shuddering, emotion filled voice. “He pushed into our house, had my parents on their knees.” His eyes grew distant, like he was reliving an image in his mind. “I was confused. Wild, crazy, like, I’d do stupid shit. Been breaking into people’s houses, did a couple of joy rides in neighbor’s cars… kinda wrecked one.” He looked up at me and sort of grinned. “You know. Impulsive shit.”

“Your parents?” I intoned, imperiously. His mind was quick, not really elusive, but it did jump around looking to test different ways out of things. But sat back, his arms going into a sort of defensive cross over his chest. I pushed a bit again with Mind sphere to keep him ontrack.

“Yeah, seems like my parents were gifted in small ways, and like… part of a cult or something. He was going to force them to either make me part of the cult or kill me. It was all some weird ritual.”

“Bullshit,” I said softly, opening my hand a bit, feeling the gathering of energies in my hand, ready to fire the stone like a bullet right at his chest. “You wanna try again?”

“I swear, it’s the truth!” That felt real enough, but something was wrong in how his intentions and his words mixed. “I didn’t want them to die in that fire!” he sobbed, trying to hold back the tears. “It’s still so confusing to me. Ya’know… what all happened that night. But he took me in. Kept me prisoner for a while. Forced me to do horrible things. Trained me.”

“Trained you?”

“Yes!” And this time when he looked down, then looked back up into my eyes, there was a confidence there. A strength I felt surging in him. “Surely you’ve felt it. My power. I could feel yours from across the country. I didn’t know what it was, but something about you called to me. Across time and space.”

That was odd, and disturbingly accurate. It rang as straight up truth in his mind, like 100%! I quickly checked my hanging patterns, ready to fuel a couple. This was getting weirder and weirder.

“Uhm, what?” I felt I was losing control of the conversation.

“He trained me, mostly in Forces, Matter, and Entropy. Kept me locked up while he trained me, tong and whip.” He shook his head at that, wringing his hands briefly. “A cruel master. Enough to make me a weapon. Oh, but I got back at him! I would get loose during the day, read up on as much as I could, and learned a little of Prime! That’s how I sensed you!”

Uh oh! He was talking of the Spheres as if he were a Mage! Or at least had been trained by one. With Mind sphere still active, I made a quick scan of his mind. And fuck me if he wasn’t mentally strong, powerful but damaged. It’s like his connection to the spheres was fractured, not complete. Artificially advanced.

Time for a Jedi Mind Trick. It’s not a real Jedi thing, just a quick hypnotic thing to put Christopher into a trance so I can tell Meryl and figure out what to do. This was way past the danger line. I focused Mind sphere and tapped into Spirit and Life, concentrating it in my rock.

And in that moment, looking deep into his eyes, I simply said one word. “Cheesecake.” But said in a long, aspirated, extended version of that word. I pressed against his mind, almost literally pushing on the sleep center of his brain. He slumped backward in the chair, yawning deeply. I slowly waved my left hand, Jedi-like, and said it again, reinforcing the long “e” sound. “Cheeeeeeezzah-caaaakeah,” I practically purred.

His eyes went from wild, excited to droopy. He hung one arm over the back of the chair, moving his mouth like a four-year-old at day care after a butterscotch pudding fix. He was just about out cold then suddenly snapped back.

“Wha? Did you just try to pacify me?” he said, shaking his head. He rubbed fingers over his eyes, inhaling sharply. Then he lurched to his feet, turning around the chair and wiping his eyes to clear the cobwebs. “You… you trying to control me, just like he did?”

“You need help, Chris. And I don’t know how to help you. I was trying to be safe and…”

“You wanted to manipulate me? Control my mind? So much for the pretty eyes and cute smile!”

“Chris, you gotta trust me. I just needed more time.”

“Time? Time?!” He balled up his fists, took an aggressive stance, and sneered at me. “You want some time, motherfucker?!”

Now, from the outside, street level, the front of the house looked normal. A quiet side road; a shady, tree lined block in a small New England town. Not a car in sight, birds chirping in the trees, squirrels chirping at the birds and socking acorns away for winter. Just a pleasant weekday morning.

But inside, all hell was about to break loose. Those pretty blue eyes turned hard, harsh and harrowing. It’s a real word, look it up!

I reacted first and co-located him out over the river, by about 200 ft. He looked up to me as I released the floor from being under his weight and he fell, while still hanging about in my mom’s kitchen. Then he looked down and saw the river falling up at him. He began to panic.

“I can leave you there and let you fall to your death, or you can calm the fuck down and we can talk,” I said plainly. Had to keep my cool, maintain control of the situation. I held out my left hand, the one with the Unicorn’s Gift clutching my wrist. “Choice is yours.”

He snarled, spun in place as he fell and jerked me by the wrist into the co-location field. The wind whipped in my hair, dragging my Red Sox cap off and away, I know not where. As I collided with Chris, we tumbled, twisting around. The river reached up to us, ready to smash us as we fell. In just those few seconds, we fell nearly a hundred feet, and we both knew it.

Fueled by his anger, he spat a fireball off in my direction, at close range. Like literally spat a fireball! From his mouth! I twisted out of the way, barely, and used Correspondence to steady myself as we fell. I needed to end this quickly, but I needed some distance first. So as the wide, wide world below reached up to hammer us with a wet fist made of river, I did the unimaginable, and dropped us into a Möbius Loop rote with Correspondence. Basically, we started falling sideways through the air on an inverted, always right-turning track of loopholes through space.

It took me a moment of concentration to modify the rote. I didn’t plan to have myself trapped in the loop as well. The Möbius Loop rote was set up so that I could put an enemy in a relatively safe place and keep him disoriented. Not to be stuck tilting around with him. It was messing with my equilibrium; the whole being tumbled around like a tetherball in a tornado. And Christopher was still wrestling with me, like with the strength that anger gives.

He spit fire at me again, and this time I couldn’t dodge it. The fireball splashed against my reflective armor spell. It was a single blast, but powerful enough that it completely singed through my shield and flashed against my arm. I cringed and flung myself away from him with a Forces move, slamming him forward along loop and flinging me out of it. I quickly co-located to get my feet under me, back in my family home. So like I was standing while like rising some three hundred feet above the Merrimack, with a wildly spinning, twisting Christopher trying to toss fireballs at me, literally in my personal orbit.

“Chris, stop! You are making it worse!” I shouted holding my burnt right arm as phantom winds howling around me. “Calm… the fuck… down!” The pain surged into my arm, getting a sympathetic pulse from the Unicorn’s Gift. I really should give it a name or something other than that, it’s getting to be a lot to type and I’m told I write too many words already. But I needed to focus and the details matter, so, you know… words.

“You’re trying to control me!” he said, tumbling past me. He tried another fireball at my head, but through the magic of co-location, it went right through me. I felt the heat, but it slid past me without touching me. I realized how powerful Chris was, clutching my hurt arm. I mean sure, his anger gave that fire some whip, but it takes more then just a casual Mage ability to scorch through my shield spells. I let him coast by me, spinning through the loop, and risked a look down at my arm.

The damage was worse than I thought. I realize now that I was suppressing my pain response, something that Meryl would be proud of me for. But the scorch on my arm was much more serious. Easily second degree burn from my wrist to elbow. Raised welts and greasy looking, reddened skin. I tapped into Force and Life and put a healing rote into play. Which stretched my abilities to their limits. I had the Möbius Loop pattern fueled, taking some of my attention, the co-locate to keep my presence in play with him, and using two spheres on active magic. Had to remain in control, even as the pain flooded back into my system while I healed.

It took only a few seconds, maybe 20, but I got my arm mostly healed. The heat was still in my arm, the sizzle, but the tissues were mostly repaired. Something I could look into later. All that time Chris tumbled sideways through the air, screaming like a lunatic and occasionally launching a fire ball or six my way. Which was a good enough thing, because it allowed me to know where he was while I healed.

And then suddenly he went quiet, slowed visibly going through the loop and came to a relative stationary position, looking across at me with angry eyes. He found a way to stay still within the Loop! He was still trapped in it, but he had stopped his “falling” through it. That got my attention.

“You’re just like him,” he said, dispassionately. His voice seemed to echo with an unnatural reverb, doubled in accentuated base and treble ranges. “I thought you’d be different. That you’d understand! But he was right about you!” That last was almost a snarl. And before I could come up with a wise and witty reply to move an actual conversation along, I felt his power spike Forces and Prime. It flashed reddish brilliance which lit up from my right side. And instantly that rock I held in my hand went from body temp cool stone to white hot sizzling rock, melting and exploding outward from my paw.

Outwards, and inwards, the pain ran up my arm and I opened as much of my hand as I could, dropping the liquefied ball of white turquoise. The pain flared through me and I lost concentration on my co-location. I dropped to my knees, holding my wrist. I didn’t care if Chris fell to his death anymore. I heard a splash on the checkered tiles of the kitchen floor and opened my eyes to see it was my own blood. My hand felt like it had shredded holding that burning hot rock. I looked down and what I saw almost panicked me more.

My hand was a ripped up mess. Pinky and thumb still held mostly in place, but the inner three fingers had folded back completely, like a peeled back banana skin. The blast had scorched my flesh, almost to blackened, and I could clearly see at least one bone, seared at the tip, splintered. A deep, burnt cut nearly folded my palm back between my middle and ring fingers, showing the parts of my hand that were better left unseen, inside.

I don’t know how emergency room doctors see this kind of thing all the time and don’t puke.

The Unicorn’s Gift throbbed on my good wrist even as my aching bad hand pulsed and cooled. I heard screaming and realized it was me. I’d never really considered “blood curdling” to match someone screaming until that moment. The pain seemed to move with my pulse and I realized I was bleeding rather heavily. I closed my eyes and pushed against the pain, keeping my arm very still. I started to feel light headed.

Meryl’s training came to mind. I stilled my breathing, despite the pain and concentrated. Step one: Breathe and Focus! Step two: Identify the problem. Hand was mangled, loosing blood. Step three: Prioritize! Got to stop the bleeding before I pass out.

Forces was easiest, especially with Unicorn’s Gift to help. I focused on Forces sphere and concentrated. Ice began forming on my mangled hand, rapidly sealing the blood vessels, giving support to my twisted bones and flesh, numbing the pain with cold.

Step four: Create Solution! I needed to get to Meryl and alert him to the danger of a rogue Mage in the area. One spitting fireballs from the mouth and exploding rocks. And like currently falling around my Möbius Loop somewhere over the Merrimack.

I concentrated, inhaling, calming my mind. I reached out with Mind sphere and tried to keep my pain out of my mental voice.

Meryl. Rogue Mage over the river. He was trapped in a Möbius Loop. Dunno if he’s still in it. Fire-spitter. Blew up my hand, I sent, trying to get as much info out at once. I could feel myself getting weaker and switched my focus to Life sphere. I triggered a Life and Matter rote, adding in a bit of Entropy and pushed it into my hand.

Now for those of you who think that magic can heal wounds caused by magic, you would be right. It can reset bones, knit flesh, remold skin and sinew, even repair ruptured organs, even to the point of near death. It is miraculous in how quickly it can do it too. Almost instantly! But there is a catch.

When you go fast, it hurts like a motherfucker.

As I fueled the pattern, Life reading and adjusting the Matter of my hand, it was like the explosion in reverse. This time, though, my mind was reliving the pain, going backwards. Think about it, all the sensory stuff and fine muscles in your hand, how complicated all the motions and pressure sensors, temperature sensors, all that stuff inside your hand are interwoven. Grown and refined since birth by all the things you learn to do. Toughened by weather and work, trained by swimming lessons and learning to write, strong enough to grab a baseball bat yet gentle enough to hold an ice cream cone without crushing it.

I grit my teeth feeling my bones realign, muscles and tendons reattach themselves, internal nerve endings grow back in from where they’d been blasted and fried. As it all pulled back together, flesh bending and flexing unnaturally. My whole body vibrated with the effort, shaking uncontrollably. But I had to focus on it, rebuild my hand, molecule by molecule by complex carbon-based organic structure. So strong was my concentration that I didn’t hear Meryl come into the house.

“Bloody hell!” he swore, coming to kneel beside me, his little hands moving up beside my mangled paw but not touching it. He knew the rote I was using to heal myself. He taught it to me, after all. Rather than interfere with the repairs, he augmented them, adding his Quintessence to mine, fueling the spell. The added energy helped me to go a bit faster. But it still hurt.

After a few minutes, my hand was back the same as new, without needing like sixty stitches and a month in a cast.

“Can’t go a whole day without blowing yourself up?” he asked, wryly.

“We have a problem.” And I went through the events of the previous night, the visit from the sergeant and the confrontation with Chris. I also showed him the pictures, which got a raised eyebrow.

“Seems you’ve been busy. I don’t know him,” he said, raising the printout with Chris’ image on it. “But him,” he said, holding out and flicking his fingertips at the picture of Mr. Card. “Him I know. Interesting that he chose that name. Card. Al Lucas Card,” he chuckled. “Ironic.”

“How is that ironic?” I asked, gulping down orange juice. I might have magically replenished my hand from a nearly crippling injury, but I was still drained from the effort.

“It’s a bit of a play on a word. Al, Luc, Card, if you reversed the letters, spells Drac, Cul, La. Dracula. He’s calling himself a vampire lord.”

“And let me guess, you know that particular vampire?”

“We’ve had dealings. And I don’t think he would have any interests in this Chris person who attacked you. Besides, the vampires in control in Boston would not let that particular one come to this continent, much less into this state.”

“You were serious about that?”

He looked up from staring at the picture to stare at me as if I was stupid, which in a way I kind of was. “I am always serious when talking about a supernatural threat. Especially this blood sucker. Vlad has his hands full back in his home country, what with the Russians and werewolves on his doorstep and war raging throughout the region.” He held up the picture. “No, this greedy cocksucker is American. He’s a powerful Mage in his own right.”

“Great, what do you know about him?”

“I don’t know his actual name, although he has gone by many over the years. Card will do. It’s in the eyes, though.” He brought the image around and looked at it. “You learn to read his identity in the eyes.”

“So what’s his faction?”

“He abandoned the Traditions a long time ago. But his crimes go back to Salem. He’s definitely Nephandi. Worse, he actually managed to defeat the one that empowered him.”

“Oh lovely. So he’s a wild card,” I quipped, fluttering the fingers of my reconstructed hand. “Chris said that he was trained by this Card guy, but it sounds more like torture to me.”

“That’s the way that Card works. Psychological torture, charming one moment, savage the next. He uses people. Tosses them away. Gives them a taste of true power, but not enough to threaten his own. Just like what he did in Salem during those horrid witch trials. What are you thinking, Marc?”

“That it’s not a coincidence that he shows up looking for me. That he and this Card guy are likely linked through the skronks we encountered last night. I mean, it is highly suspicious, right.”

“Certainly is. But there is a lot to unpack here. Your powers have grown rapidly. I expected you to be tested, just not to such a degree.”

“So what is our next move?”

“What would you think we should do, pupil?” he asked, imperiously. I ”hate ”when he does that. “Let’s see how your logic has grown.”

“Okay, well, we have to find out what Card is up to.”

“That’s a given.”

“And, we have to try and limit what damage Chris is capable of.”

“Is that your compassion for him being abused or your attraction to him talking?” Meryl said, laying the pictures side by side on the table.

I started to answer that directly but thought about it for a moment. Chris was someone that I felt an attraction to. And someone that showed an interest in me. Whether I could trust his interest, though, was another question I had to answer. How much of that flirting was about him getting close to me? How much did he know about me? Chris definitely knew where I lived, and he knew Ethan. And what about Ethan? Was he now a target for this Card guy? So much was at stake, but I had to realize that my parents and sisters were also at risk, too, just less able to defend themselves against the power of a renegade Mage.

“It would be a lie to say both don’t color my reasoning there, but Chris is dangerous, and he knows where I live, so it is for the best to neutralize the threat as soon as possible. I’d like to help him, but more lives are at risk than just mine. So, yeah… he’s got to be dealt with. Harshly if necessary.”

“That took brains to piece out, and guts to admit. And I commend you. He needs our help, but he is dangerous, and we must treat him as such.” He inhaled and sighed through his nose. “What else?”

“I have to protect Ethan and my family now. So we need to act about Chris first.”

“That is a given. Why don’t we go take care of that now?” Meryl said, standing. I stood up as well.

“Right. Ready?”

He lifted a finger and his cloak suddenly appeared on his shoulders, forming a pool around his feet. “Yes,” he replied.

I stood up beside him and shifted us up where I left the Möbius Loop, co-locating us so we stood several hundred feet over the Merrimack River. Meryl adopted a defensive stance. I raised the Unicorn’s Gift, ready to lash out with ice should an attack come.

“Where the fuck did he go?” Meryl said, relaxing his posture. He looked over at me and popped a hand up on his hip. “He escaped?”

“I left him right here.” I felt around and found the ravaged, mangled mess of my Möbius Loop, trashed at the pattern level.

“What did you say? Forces, Matter, Entropy and Prime?”

“Yeah, he said he had to sneak info on Prime.”

“Oh, fuck nuggets,” Meryl said. “Well, that’s not good. We better put some wards up on your home, maybe look in on your brother.”

“Why? Meryl, what are you seeing?”

“Boyo, we have to plan for this one. And I don’t know if I can keep this many patterns going at one time. With a high enough understanding of Prime and Entropy, he’ll have the ability to shred patterns, rotes and spells. Just rip out certain parts of them, especially based on Forces and Matter, which he seems he understands just enough to be dangerous.”

“Yeah. He had to have seen that rock in my hand. He knew exactly how to target it.”

“Fortunately, you knew how to heal that. But he’s long gone. And from out of town. So we need to think of where he’d likely hide out.”

“Hum, which means we need a spy,” I thought out loud. “We need someone who sees all and knowns all.”

“Got someone in mind,” Meryl said, hand on his chin as I ended our co-location.

“I do. We need a tracker. A spy. Someone who knows everything going on in the valley.”

“Well, then,” Meryl said, nodding, “we need a Fox.”

To say the least, I was worried all day. My first confrontation with my crush had gone horribly wrong, and so fast. I still had some conflictions. I mean, it was a big thing for me to admit that another boy was my crush. Which was a huge thing to admit to myself, as well as my little brother sort of expressing his own gay feelings about boys. Still not sure how to deal with the fact of that, or how deal with how un-honest I was with myself.

Had to push that out of my mind though. Had to think like a Magi. Had to be focused.

Meryl helped me to ward the house and linked it to my farsenses, so if someone or something came snooping around the house, I’d know about it. Also helped me rig a few nasty surprises in case someone came in hot. So I had a hair trigger and was very nervous about using it. Anyways, he blinked back to the castle, promising to check his contacts. I had a feeling that a certain werewolf might be on the list.

Ethan got home from his class and was as bouncy as ever. Immediately, he showed me the bracelets he’d woven at day camp. They were practically identical in every conceivable way. A series of woven bands, five square knots wide, with metal rings like weaved into the bands. Clearly, he put effort into it, yet still kept the design simple. When I asked him why he used the metal rings, he answered in typical Ethan fashion “because it makes it look cool and tough and slick… like you.”

I can admit to nearly losing it and giving him a hug. I didn’t feel like I was any of those things, but knowing he thought that of me made my day, which had been, admittedly, pretty shitty up to that point. It took me all of a minute to pull myself together and whip up the pattern to retrieve the sword. I set it up so that he could pop though into the tower on the stone bridge and pick the sword up. I showed him how to do it and then made sure to lay the sword on the old operator’s chair looking out of the tower. He actually jumped up on the console to look out the window at traffic on Main Street, a couple of dozen feet below.

And for the record, I did check the inside of the tower, both to make sure it was locked up and for ghosts. Check mark on the one, big zero on the haunting. Not that I’m an expert on creepy places and such, but the cobweb factor was pretty high inside. Even the spiders didn’t find the place to their liking. Set up shop and didn’t hang around. Just made it a safer place for storing the sword. We cleaned it up a bit and then left mini Excalibur resting on the seat. Ethan very reluctantly.

The whole night I was distracted. And for many reasons. I kept rubbing over the place in my hand where the ring and pinky fingers had peeled away from the rest of my palm. I know that I could not see any scars or noticeable melty flesh. But the pain from the explosion left an indelible mark in my mind. One I wouldn’t soon forget.

Geeze, all this Mage stuff makes me sound so old. Wicked!

My parents noticed that I was, shall we say, distracted. Dinner is a family affair most nights, and this night was no different. My sisters dominated the conversation, going on about weird things at their summer jobs. All drama, no substance. Ethan went on and on about his day, how he was doing at his Jedi class thing. Dad made some lame dad joke.

Through it all, I barely ate. Barely acknowledged anyone talking around me. Or to me. I kept my farsenses scanning. So much so that my father asked if I was feeling well. Four times, until I looked up from an untouched plate of pork chop, peas and scalloped potatoes.

“Are you feeling well, Marco,” Dad asked, concerned. I looked up and realized they were all looking at me.

“Gawd, Marco. You must be in love or something,” one of my sisters said, although to be honest my attention was so split I couldn’t say who.

“Can I be excused?” I said, “I don’t feel so good.”

“Yes, of course,” Mom replied, with one of those worried Mom looks. I stood and made for my room, almost on auto pilot. I cruised up the stairs and dropped onto the bed, butt first.

And stood up almost as fast, ready to give my guest an icicle through the head. He stood behind my door, and gently closed it as I entered the room. Somehow, he got in despite all the wards and patterns laid on the house. My left hand pointed at him, the Unicorn’s Gift feeling cool and ready on my wrist, in my mind.

“Peace, Mage. I’m here at your master’s request.” I got a better look at him. Slender, but covering it with a green hoody, making his body difficult to make out the truth of his form. His glasses shone as he looked up at me, reflecting briefly the lamp on my bedside table. He reached up and with practiced ease pushed his glasses back up his little pointed nose. He moved simply, without exaggeration or pretense, but with purpose.

“I recognize you,” I said, lowering my left arm. “That night I stumbled across your little meeting.”

“And the Countess threw a sword through your head. I remember.” He smiled, a subtle twitch of his mouth. His features were very delicate, almost elfin. “The old bastard said you needed a spy.” Direct and to the point. I nodded.

“I need to find someone. To know what they’re up to.”

“I’d think someone in your area of expertise could handle that on your own,” he said, inclining his head my way before saying, “Marcus.”

“Time is short,” I replied. “I have to find him.”

“You’re conflicted. He attacked you, but you still feel an attraction to him. You want to help him, but… you fear what he represents. The danger. The pain.”

I unconsciously reached to my right hand, the palm between the ring and middle fingers. I swallowed hard, remembering. He looked away, admiring a poster on my wall. “I’m sorry. Bad habit. I read people rather easily. And I kind of witnessed the fight over the river this morning. It was very brutal. Sorry I could not help you. It was very far and over very quickly.”

“You saw it, huh?”

“For those such as us, who know what to look for, that kind of event is hard to miss. As was your mishap on the Arkham farm trail down where the river path bumps into the Fishing Spot. Popular place these days.” He looked up, soulful eyes unblinking. “I saw what happened, but didn’t see his face. He was traveling around very erratically and spewing fireballs. Never got a clean look at him.”

“Maybe this will help,” I said, summoning the two printouts from Sgt. Ozzie. “His real name is Christopher James, but he may be traveling under the name Jace.”

“I’ve seen him around. Scrounging for food. He moves around a lot. Never sleeps in the same place twice. I lost him a few days back, then he resurfaced two days ago. Thought he had maybe moved on.”

“So you know where he is, where he might go to ground?”

“I know where he was yesterday, after the creatures you defeated on the trail. He was sleeping in a culvert down by the city animal impound.”

“That might explain the mixed-up creatures,” I said, stroking my chin. “Is it far?”

“No, it’s pretty easy to find if you know what to look for. But he likely wont be there. Like I said, always a different place every night. I’ll keep a look out for him. Who’s this guy?” he said, holding up the other printout. “Card?”

“He is a Mage. Tortured Chris. Made him into a weapon then lost control of him. Chris said he came looking for me. He said he could feel my power. It drew him to me.” Again, I felt my right hand, my thumb unconsciously rubbing the seam which magic sealed up as good as new.

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen him around town, too.”

“What?”

“He’s been watching things going on around the Y. Keeping tabs on other supernaturally talented folk in the valley. He got here about a week after your Chris did. Been here about three weeks. He’s a squirrelly one. Jumps around town a lot. I didn’t know the two of them were connected until now. He keeps a low profile. Has a lot of money, rides a Audi sports car. I think he outright bought a place up on Columbus Circle.”

“Shit,” I breathed out. “So, if Card is in town, looking for Chris and hanging around the Y, he might be stalking my brother.”

“I dunno. This guy seems more focused on recon. Like you said, he may Chris into a weapon. It may be he is just watching what shit his weapon stirs up.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I can’t think of that. I have to protect my family.”

“Look,” the boy said, resting his rump on the corner of my desk. “It’s been my experience that guys like this don’t directly get their hands dirty unless they have to. And messing with your brother is probably not in his wheel house right yet. If he knows about you, through Chris, then he’s likely waiting to find out more about you. Whatever the case, he’s a threat but not a danger. Not yet anyways. And if your Master has anything to say about it, that threat is likely to come under a lot of scrutiny.”

“So, we just let him stew?”

“Knowing who is on the playing field is the first step in any strategy. Long term. Now you know a bit more.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. So how did you slip past my wards and defenses?”

“Got a nifty little trick off your Master a few years back. Did a job for him that required some magical know how. Don’t worry, I only use it when he needs me to. Call it a fair trade for the into I got for him.”

“Fair enough. Can I contact you?”

He wrote down a number on the back of Card’s picture. “It’s my cell. Not always on, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you. It’s encrypted, so you don’t have to worry about telling secrets on it. Just the same, I’d prefer when you call, leave a message about something simple and stupid. School project. New movie. Hanging out at the mall. Reminder to feed the cat. Anything like that. I’ll find you and make contact after that.”

“Right. The message is to make contact, not any real information. Pretty slick trick.” I looked at the number and saw a name scrawled beside it. Andy. “The werewolf guy, he called you the fox.”

“Yeah, it’s a long story. Maybe one day I’ll tell you, Marc.” He turned the paper with Chris’ picture on it over and quickly drew out a map. “These are where I’ve seen Chris sleeping. The pattern indicates he is moving in a roughly circular track, along both sides of the river, but never to far from it. He may be looking for something, using his poorly trained magical senses to locate it. Best guess says his next likely camp site will be somewhere in this area. I know it’s not much…”

“But it’s a start,” I finished for him. “Thank you, Andy. You’ve been a big help.”

“Look, I understand what you are dealing with. This kid, Chris, he needs help, and you’re likely the only one who can give it to him, the only one that has a chance of getting through to him right now. I have my own problems right now, but I hope you can get him some help. Because if you don’t, we’re going to have to take him off the board the hard way. And Mages never go down easy.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Right. Okay, I have to get back to my patrol. Take care, Marc Basilier. You may want to go through the bathroom and unlock it from your brothers side. He’s been trying to listen in but I turned on the shower.”

“You are a sneaky one, ain’tcha?”

“You don’t live as long as I have without some tricks up your sleeve.” He got up and moved to my window, opening it with relative ease. “And you might want to lock this. Some cat burglar might take advantage of your rather lax security.” He grinned and before I knew it, he’d slipped out of the window, onto the roof beside the gable and was gone. I rushed to look out to follow his path, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Thanks again, Fox,” I said, closing and locking the window. I contacted Meryl about the information I’d gotten and told him I’d meet with him in the morning. And with all these things chasing around in my head I spent the next few hours pouring over the quick line drawn map and using my farsenses to scan the area indicated for any sign of Chris.

But he remained elusive. Part of me wondered if he’d fallen to his death, or been swept down the river, out into the ocean. The Merrimack was still very shallow at points and it twisted a few times between my small town and the sea. Many places that a scared, angry and resourceful kid might find ground again. Many a shadowy cove and dark covered inlet one might get lost and found in.

At some point I dropped off to sleep. A rustling sound stirred me to wakefulness, and I got very defensive. As I sat up in bed, a very tired Ethan plopped down, clutching his sword to his chest. I made room and he quietly shuffled under the covers. We both drifted back to dreamland without a word, him holding his weapon, me spooning him.

And all around the valley seemed to be writhing in the mists that come behind the wall of sleep.

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