Well of Magic: An Urban Fantasy (Rosie O'Grady's Paranormal Bar and Grill Book 4)

by BR Kingsolver

  Franklin Jones, a long-time leader in the Otherworld community in Westport, spoke to start the meeting. “The Archbishop of Portland is a rather enthusiastic proponent of the Knights Magica. As we all know, he’s sent a large contingent of Knights here to ‘clean up the city.’ Considering the Knights’ attitude toward supernaturals, and their activities in other parts of the country toward paranormals, we’re very concerned.”

  “My boss is getting a lot of pressure from the mayor,” Frankie said. Her boss, the District Attorney, was considering a run for mayor if the current mayor won the race for governor. Neither of them were magic wielders, but the DA was one of the few norms who knew of the Otherworld prior to the current publicity.

  “The Knights have made life in other cities rather difficult,” Sam continued. “The consensus of those I’ve talked to is that we need to push back. In addition to the Paranormal Crimes Unit, we’re organizing a paramilitary force to protect ourselves. Erin, we are hoping that you will agree to work with them.”

  Michaela Gallagher, the dhampir representative, said, “We’ll be using the country club as the main advanced training facility, and the paranormal academy will be stepping up its efforts in training mages and witches in offensive and defensive magic.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have any experience in training people.”

  “Erin, I think that everyone here knows you have a military background,” Lizzy’s father said.

  That shook me. I looked around and realized that although many of them probably didn’t know of my history with the Illuminati or the Hunters’ Guild, they would have to be idiots to think that a woman of my age gained my skills working out at the local gym.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve been trained, but I’m just a kid. And I don’t have any experience in large-scale military strategy and tactics. Ian McGregor might be a better choice.”

  Eileen Montgomery nodded. “I’ve already talked to him, and he’s on board.”

  “We have people with military experience,” Sam said, “but not very many with experience in magical battles.”

  I shrugged. “Look, I owe you folks more than I can ever repay. I’m willing to help in any way I can, but I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you.”

  Almost all of my experience with the Hunters’ Guild was as a lone operative. I had seen more coordinated use of magical force since coming to Westport than I had ever had before, and other people directed all of that.

  “I doubt you’ll disappoint us,” Frankie said. “All we ask is your commitment.”

  I bit my lip, looked around at all the far older and experienced people in the room, then said, “You have that. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  An older man—tall and thin, with streaks of gray in his shoulder-length black hair—said, “I’m Karl Langermann.” I recognized him from a fight with several Hunters on the university campus the previous year. “I run the paranormal academy here in town. I’ll be coordinating the training. In a previous life, I trained recruits for the U.S. Marine Corps. Do you think you could come out and see me sometime this week?”

  “Sure.” We traded phone numbers, and I agreed to go out and meet him for lunch the following day.

  Chapter 19

  While witches usually learned their craft from family or through a coven, young mages were a danger to themselves and everyone around them when they came into their power. I was a prime example.

  When my magic manifested itself, my father had contacted an old friend or cousin—I never really understood their relationship—in Ireland about sending me to an academy there. The friend turned out to be a member of the Illuminati and came to my home in Singapore with a woman who tested me. They gave my parents a sum of money, then took me not to Ireland but to the City of the Illuminati in the wilderness in the U.S. near the Canadian border.

  The Knights Magica and other secret magical societies also had training facilities for their recruits, but most young mages attended one of the normal magical academies. I had learned there were half-a-dozen top-tier academies in North America, about that many more in Europe, and one in Japan.

  Columbia Academy in Westport was ranked in the second tier but had a good reputation. Franklin Jones and Sam were on the board of trustees. Josh and Trevor had attended school there.

  I checked out Langermann with Sam later that evening, partly from paranoia, partly from training. He and Sam went way back—like before my parents were born. Among other things, Langermann had served in the U.S. Marines during both world wars, rising to major in the first one, and colonel in the second. I knew that he had recognized the Sword of Uriel when I cast it, and Sam said Langermann was a noted scholar in the history of magic.

  After breakfast the following morning, I drove out to the academy campus, located in the foothills northeast of the country club. A gate with a speaker greeted me as soon as I turned into the driveway. I gave my name, said I had an appointment with Karl Langermann, and the gate opened. I also felt a ward part at the same time, telling me that the gate was primarily for show.

  The drive wound upward through the forest with occasional meadows, and eventually, led to a large building that was a cross between a stone manor house and a castle. At least another dozen smaller buildings surrounded it. I parked in a designated visitors’ space and got out of the car. A blueish light flickered on the ground in front of me. I stepped toward it, and it moved away. It led me around to the front of the main building, up the steps, and to the front door. When I approached the large double doors, they opened and the light disappeared.

  “Welcome to Columbia Academy,” Langermann said as I stepped inside. “This is your first visit, I believe.” He was dressed in Navy blue, his jacket resembling an Indian fashion—buttoned-up front with a high neck.

  “Yes. I’ve heard of the academy, and a number of my friends attended here.”

  “Well, let me show you around before lunch.” He led me upstairs, where he pointed out classrooms, most of which contained an instructor and students. “Classrooms, including biology and chemistry labs, are on this floor. The third floor has faculty offices and labs. The first floor has the dining room, the student cafeteria, the auditorium, and other larger meeting rooms.” He pointed out a window to two long, one-story buildings extending from the back of the main building. “Those are the dormitories for the students who live with us. About half of our students live at home, the other half here. All of the magical labs and practice facilities are in the other buildings.”

  I understood that. I wasn’t the only student I had seen who accidentally destroyed a building, or part of a building.

  “And you teach subjects other than magic?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. All our students meet state standards to graduate high school and fulfill entrance requirements for universities. And when enrollments are down, we admit a few witches as well, usually those of mixed parentage.” Such as Jolene, although she hadn’t attended.

  After the short tour, he led me to a room labeled ‘Faculty Dining.’

  “The students eat in a cafeteria,” Langermann said, motioning to a larger room next to it.

  “Who pays for all this?”

  “The parents pay tuition. If they can’t afford it, the Council comes up with the money. Nobody wants an untrained mage running around developing his or her own ideas of how the world works. We have enough natural disasters in Oregon without throwing magic into the pot.”

  We were joined for lunch by two of the school’s faculty. Kevin Fuller appeared in his forties, stocky and a little full in the gut, with brown hair and brown eyes. He looked like an actor who played someone’s father on a TV show. The other mage was a woman I had met before, an earth mage. Maya Evans appeared to be in her mid-thirties, attractive, with long brown hair, wearing a long dress and lots of jewelry, like a hippie earth mama.

  It turned out that Langermann was an electrokinetic, and Fuller was an illusionist with a secondary affinity for water. He had served with th
e U.S. Navy Seals in Vietnam. Evans had served in the Middle East with the Army Corps of Engineers.

  “How do you use your magic in that kind of situation?” I asked them.

  Evans gave me a crooked grin. “Discretely. Subtly. The company I commanded managed to build everything we were assigned in less time than normal. Not a lot less time but quickly enough to win commendations.”

  “I don’t know what you hope I can add,” I said. “I know small-force tactics—commando-type stuff—but most of my training is in infiltration, intelligence gathering, and…” I broke off, feeling my face grow hot. I had almost said ‘assassination.’

  Langermann nodded. “Which is something we need. We need someone who can get inside the Knights without getting themselves killed.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not me. Their more experienced operatives would identify me the first time I picked up a blade. What you need is a couple of your new graduates. Kids who are attracted to the excitement and adventure. Who can go in as new recruits and work their way inside over time. I can train them and be a contact for them, since I’m close to the same age. Other areas I might be able to help is if you need someone to break into their headquarters, steal their underwear, and make it back out again without getting killed.”

  Maya Evans leaned back in her chair and grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Fuller nodded. “Like a cat burglar.”

  “Like a homicidal cat burglar,” I said.

  “Have you talked to Ian McGregor,” I asked, “He’s an earth mage working for Eileen Montgomery. He has the same training I’ve had, but he’s a hundred years older than I am.”

  Langermann nodded. “I have, and we have a meeting with him tonight at Necropolis.”

  The gate in the academy’s fence was past the first curve in the driveway, and about a hundred feet from the main road. I drove out, but just as I reached the road, two men dressed in black stepped out in front of me.

  I slammed on the brakes, not to prevent running the idiots over, but because I didn’t want my car to be damaged. Donning my personal shield and grabbing my sword, I got out of the car.

  “Is there something wrong?” I asked, sorry that I didn’t have any showy magic I could use to attract attention from the school behind me.

  “Where are you going?” one of them called.

  “To work, not that it’s any of your business.” By that time, I could see the burning-cross insignia and that both men carried swords with star rubies set in the hilts. Knights Magica. One was young, the other’s apparent age was forties or fifties, in other words, at least a hundred.

  “You should be careful who you consort with. Those who oppose the Lord’s will shall find that the fires of damnation are hot,” said the older one.

  Was this guy real?

  “Thank you for the advice. Now, if you would kindly step out of the roadway, I really need to go to work.”

  They moved closer. “The world is changing. The time to choose is here.”

  I sent a burst of ley line energy that knocked them backward, and the younger one fell.

  “You are seriously irritating me,” I said. “Now, get out of the way.”

  The young guy jumped up and drew his sword. He charged at me, waving it in such a way as to tell me that he had no idea how to use the thing. His buddy yelled at him, but the one with the sword was red in the face, embarrassed and angry, and not listening.

  I stepped into him, my shield absorbing his shield’s energy, ducked under his sword arm, and grabbed him by the throat with my free hand. Feeding ley energy into my hand, I lifted him off the ground. I swung the invisible scabbard of my sword at his sword hand and hit him in the wrist. He dropped his sword, and his face turned from red to purple.

  Turning so that I held him as a shield against the other one, I said through gritted teeth, “If you don’t get out of my way and let me go to work, I’m going to pinch his head off and feed it to you. Do you understand me?”

  The older guy backed away and off the pavement, making the sign of the cross at me, and said, “Let him go.”

  I threw the young idiot at the old one, who did a lousy job of catching his buddy, then I turned and got back in my car. As I drove away, I fumbled for my cell phone.

  “Mr. Langermann,” I said when he answered, “there are two Knights Magica watching the academy and accosting people when they leave.”

  “My, isn’t that interesting,” he said. “That’s new. I’ll send out a vermin-control unit to take care of the problem.”

  When I got to work, I told Sam about my meeting with Langermann, Fuller, and Evans, and the encounter with the Knights.

  “That sounds very strange, don’t you think?” Sam asked.

  “Very. I don’t have anything to go on but a hunch, but I think they were both new recruits. The younger guy was a hot head who didn’t have a clue how to use that sword, and the older guy reminded me of a street evangelist. You know, the kind of person who hangs out downtown, preaching to the pigeons?”

  “And he told you it’s the time to choose?”

  “Yeah. Sam, the Knights always outnumbered the Illuminati because they weren’t as secretive or as choosy. One way to push their way into controlling the paranormal population is to recruit all of us to their side.”

  He nodded. “Hell of a lot safer to co-opt magic users instead of trying to conquer them.”

  “What really bothers me, though, is that they have enough swords fitted with those rubies to hand them out like Halloween candy to untrained idiots. How many people can they field when the ley lines go down?”

  Chapter 20

  Later that weekend, the television news had a special program on witchcraft around the world, with segments discussing witches and persecution in Europe, Africa, and India. A group from the Westport PCU, the Paranormal Crimes Unit, had come in for dinner and watched the show from the seats at the end of the bar nearest the TV room.

  I was surprised to learn that over the previous decade thousands of people—mostly women—had been murdered in India for being witches.

  Jordan Blair said, “I notice that one never hears of mage hunts.”

  Frankie snorted. “That’s because any survivors are usually laying low and hoping the mages don’t come looking for them.”

  Jolene nodded. “Witches are the softer, gentler magic users. We always get the short end, which isn’t fair, since we have the useful, helpful magic.”

  The word “Westport” from the TV caught my attention. “Shhh.” I walked past the end of the bar so I could hear better. Some older bald guy was standing in front of a microphone and talking about “holding hearings” and “getting to the bottom of this conspiracy.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Aw, crap,” Frankie said. “That is Allen Friedman, an investigator with the Senate’s Homeland Security Committee.”

  “He said something about Westport.”

  “Yeah. He’s here in town, and he’s convinced we’re hiding something.”

  Cindy said, “Which we are. I’m telling you, there’s something weird about that guy.”

  “Maybe he’s a sensitive, like Jordan,” I said.

  Everyone sort of froze. Frankie and Cindy turned to look at me, their eyes wide. Jordan, on the other hand, looked around at everyone with an amused expression on his face. Then he turned to me.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to talk about me when I’m present. I guess you didn’t get the memo.”

  “I assumed you knew that you’re not normal,” I said.

  He winked at me. “I’ve had my suspicions.”

  The image on TV changed from the older man to a younger, good-looking one with all his hair.

  “Stay tuned to KRZY at nine o’clock this evening for a special report on the paranormal crisis in the United States and what is happening in Westport. Back to you, Darla.”

  Jolene and Cindy rolled their eyes. Frankie leaned forward, her forehead resting on the bar.

  “I take it you
knew this was coming,” I said.

  “Unfortunately,” Frankie answered. “I tried to head it off, but with Friedman watching me like a hawk, there was only so much I could do. And there are two reporters who’ve been hanging around just looking for a chance to scream ‘cover up’ and get attention for their first big story.”

  “Lots of national attention focused on Westport,” Jordan said.

  “I don’t have a TV,” I said. “What’s been going on? Any more mage fights or shifters doing their thing for the cameras?”

  “Some kind of war, or battle—hell, I don’t know what to call it,” Cindy said. “In Germany, somewhere near Munich. The German army was called in. You must have been in a hole to have missed it. It corresponded with the last ley line disruption, and it’s been the big story the past few days.”

  A mage battle near Munich? The original headquarters of the Illuminati? I remembered McGregor telling me about the Knights’ assault on the Illuminati’s British headquarters.

  “There have been a bunch of daytime TV shows with people who say they are witches,” Jolene said. “I haven’t seen any self-identified mages, but I have seen some real magic performed. The frenzy in Washington and in Salem hasn’t died down at all.”

  Salem, Oregon, was the state capitol. I hadn’t thought about the local politicians getting their panties twisted, but I should have. With Westport’s mayor running for governor, the city was getting a lot more attention than usual anyway.

  The two-hour special on the ‘paranormal crisis’ drew the attention of almost everyone in the bar. I tried to catch as much of it as I could in between pouring drinks.

  Cindy had stuck around after she ate her dinner and was joined by Shawna shortly before the show began. Cindy usually worked the evening shift, and was paired with Shawna, who could only work at night.

  The show started with the video of the incidents in Atlanta, Dallas, and Westport, then moved to the ongoing battle in Germany. Comments and interviews with government officials were interspersed between the action scenes. Interviews with Allen Friedman, Westport’s mayor and police chief, and the Universal archbishop accompanied a brief recital of the incidents in Westport.