by Tao Wong
“The Brixton Orphanage.”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“I am the master mage in charge of this region,” Caleb said with a sniff. “Part of my duties do require me to be aware of such matters.”
“So do you know what is contained by the orphanage?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. After all, Alexa had no idea, and the Templars weren’t going to tell me.
“That I do not,” Caleb said stiffly. “The Templars are not forthcoming about their activities for obvious reasons. I do know that whatever is contained most likely should stay contained.”
“Most likely?”
“The Templars are less forgiving than we are,” Caleb said. “And considering when this occurred, well, times have changed.”
“Ah…” I considered what Caleb meant. I guess society had changed since the sixties, and what was considered acceptable back then and now has altered, at least in most parts of the world. It would stand to reason that changes in social mores among mundanes would also affect tolerance levels among supernaturals. How much of a crossover, I’d have to research. But—“Is there a way to tell? There’s a bit of mana leaking out.”
“Hmmm… You mean the mana that is produced is tainted by the creature’s or item’s aura,” Caleb said, correcting me. “But yes, there are ways. With your skill set… Marissa’s Multibox of Telling would be best.”
“The what?”
“Marissa’s Multibox of Telling.” Caleb walked toward his library of books. He flipped through a few before finding the one he wanted. With an absent toss of his hand, the book landed on a bookstand where Caleb then gestured at, directing a pen that had been seated on the bookstand to begin copying the spell. “Now, we were going to discuss rituals. Let us begin with an overview of your current knowledge.”
I stared enviously at the scribing tool. I wanted one!
Caleb clapped his hands together. “Mr. Tsien!”
“Sorry. Overview of rituals. Right. They’re just elongated spells, aren’t they? Drawn onto chalk circles and boosted with various elemental items?”
“That—” Caleb drew a deep breath and glared at the wide-eyed, innocent face I returned to him. “It seems we have a lot of work to do.”
***
Baiting Caleb about what he thought of my knowledge about rituals actually had a point beyond mildly amusing me. In truth, while I had some transmitted knowledge, it was mostly ancillary to the spell knowledge provided by Lily. As such, my foundational knowledge left a lot to be desired. Once again, I had to admit the way Lily had “dumped” information into my brain left me with surprisingly large and weird holes. Especially when the jinn herself was a more natural caster. Her understanding of magic had surprising gaps which at times resulted in issues on my end.
My Ward spell, for example, could not actually be directly translated to a barrier, since much of the knowledge provided to me came from a subset of Enochian magic that never bothered with rituals. So while I could—and did—figure out how to enchant with it, translating the knowledge into a ritual was outside my current skillset. And yes, the differences between a ward, a ritual, and an enchantment were small at times, but when I was altering the fundamental forces of nature, that minor gap could be lethal.
Caleb understood my issues after so many months training me. It was why he was, at times, over-thorough in his explanations. And while I saw no move in my ritual knowledge talents, I knew I had a much firmer grasp of the basics. If we kept these lessons up, in a short while, I would have a much better idea of what to do about the broken enchantments and ritual. Of course…
“Why aren’t you fixing the enchantments?” I asked Caleb as we wrapped up the lesson plan.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, isn’t it your job?”
“Again, you misunderstand my role. I am to watch for and deal with significant threats. While whatever is trapped by the Templars in the orphanage is of note, it is not, as you have pointed out, inherently violent. As such, it is outside of my area of responsibility. What would my life be like if I went around dealing with every minor issue third-rate sorcerers created? No. Whatever is down there is something the Templars can handle themselves.”
“And if it’s an item?”
“Then taking it away if it is dangerous would be simpler after its release.”
“And you don’t want to be bothered.”
“And I don’t want to be bothered.” Caleb affably agreed. “You will find as you progress that many of the concerns you exhibit now are less important. They are, in fact, trivial to your progress as a mage.”
“For you maybe,” I said under my breath, staring at the numerous books that made up the portion of the library Caleb had brought with him. I knew he easily had hundreds more in his actual house. For “real” mages, study and experimentation were more important than going out and “leveling.” Whether it was a curse or blessing, I needed to do both. Only through constant and practical use of my spells did the knowledge imparted to me become better integrated.
And truth be told, I might be a bit of a geek, but even I can get tired of reading.
***
Since Caleb had been of little use in understanding what was actually trapped beneath, I figured I would spend some time researching the building. I was curious if the enchantments had been built from the start or something that had appeared recently. It certainly seemed strange that if they were going to add an enchantment to a building, they didn’t do what everyone else did: add it in the foundations, out of sight. It made things so much simpler, and stronger in most cases.
With that in mind, I made a visit to the archival room of our public library. It was only when I arrived I found out that not only did they not keep building plans, access to building plans at city hall also required me to get the permission of the owners. Oh, and there was no guarantee they’d have plans for something as old as the orphanage.
“So what can I find out here?” I asked, slightly exasperated.
Thankfully, the librarian—a thin, weedy-looking guy who looked like he needed less time in the sun—didn’t take offense with my question and directed me to the microfilm section. There, he then pointed me at the various resources available, patiently explaining that no, there wasn’t a web search that would give me all the information contained. And then, the bastard left me.
Four hours later, I recalled why I hated libraries. I gently dropped my head onto the giant tome that blandly described the history of social housing and welfare for children in the city. It was intensely boring, but it did at least mention the orphanage… if not in the context I required.
“May I be of assistance?” a soft voice asked me, and I twitched, tilting my head sideways. Next to me was a bespectacled, bird-headed creature with coffee-colored skin. I stared at the creature for a second, my brain trying to locate the particular type. Its feathered head bobbed slightly as the creature continued to speak. “I am Adom.” Lowering his voice even further, Adom said, “I am from my lord Thoth’s lineage.”
“Oh…” My brain scrambled for a second, thankful for long, long D&D sessions and a rather weird obsession with all things mythological. Thoth was the Egyptian god of knowledge. Details came back from an abandoned campaign, filling in further details. Egyptian gods were generally decent, and since he was just someone from that lineage, I should treat him like any other supe. “Depends. You good at research?”
“I have some small skill,” Adom said, inclining his head.
“Perfect,” I said with a grin. “I need to know everything you can find about the Brixton Orphanage. In five days.”
“Lord mage, I fear you misunderstand. Good research takes time,” Adom said, shaking his head disapprovingly.
“I know, but I’ve got a time-limited quest here, so chop-chop,” I said. “Not that I mean you should. Ummm… how much would I owe you?”
Adom cocked his head to the side now, regarding me
for a time. “Five days of dedicated research. Rush order. Two thousand dollars.”
“Two thousand!” I yelped and got glares from the few people around. I simmered down, shooting a sheepish glance back at the library attendees I had disturbed. “That’s daylight robbery. One.”
“Deal. Should I meet you here or at your offices?” Adom said immediately.
“Wait a second. I feel like I’ve been cheated here!” I grumbled. Damn it. Luckily, this was real life, or I’d probably receive negative experience for negotiating. “And here is fine. Probably for the best.”
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Adom said, offering his hand. I shook it while standing and walked out of the library. A thousand dollars. Gah! At least, if we completed Alexa’s quest, we should still see a profit. Still. A thousand dollars.
Cursing myself, I made my way home.
Chapter 11
“Why are we doing this stakeout again?” I grumbled as we sat in the car, in a new spot overlooking the building. This was the second lookout spot we had used in the last few hours, Alexa having decided that moving more often was a better idea than having the police called on us again. Not that I disagreed, but…
“Intelligence before an attack is important. Do we have a Link?” Alexa said and prodded me. I stared at the small circular makeup mirror we had purchased for this very purpose, figuring it was easier than constantly adjusting the rearview mirror.
“Yes. The usual,” I said and shifted the mirror for Alexa to look. I swear, these guys desperately needed to find something better to do than stare at the idiot box all day. Who cared what horrible food was being eaten, which long-lost cousin with amnesia was being released from jail, or how to bake a double-chocolate-fudge cake. Actually, maybe the last one.
“Let’s just keep watching,” Alexa said in reply after she looked.
“Fine. But what are we waiting for?” I said with a grimace. Still, I sat back and focused on feeding mana to the image while doing my utmost to draw in as much mana from the surroundings as possible.
“Either another shipment or payment. They were paid recently, so it’s not likely to be the second. But if they receive a second shipment, we can hit them and destroy it. Maybe even take their money at the same time.”
“You don’t mean to launch the attack when the courier is there, right? Because we’re a bit far away to do that…”
“No. We can take the three, but I don’t know how many would be with their courier. Or when it’d arrive. Better for us to just destroy their product,” Alexa said.
“Actually, I think taking their money would be better. See, the product is probably quite cheap to make, but the money they earn is, well, money.”
“Why’d you think it’s cheap to make?”
“Isn’t that how drugs work? The product is cheap but gets marked up because it’s illegal?” I asked with a shrug. “Or gets marked up because of the cost of lost product due to law enforcement, which in this case would be us.”
Alexa frowned at my words but, after a moment’s consideration, slowly nodded.
“Great. Then let’s go home, and we’ll plan the hit.”
“Can we not talk about it like that?” Alexa asked. “We’re not assassins.”
“Fine,” I said, maybe a bit pitifully. I guessed she wouldn’t accept wearing black masks too?
***
“Masks are a good idea,” Alexa said with a nod. “I’ll put up my hair and wear a wig too.”
“Wait. You’re good with a mask?”
“Of course.” Alexa nodded firmly. “We don’t want to be caught. And you should put a glamour on us too. Just in case.”
“Sure,” I said, readjusting my thinking. I then stared at the sketched-out map of the house before us on my grid paper. Who said buying all this erasable grid paper for my RPG games had been a waste? Har! Though, when I had pulled it out, I’d realized how long it had been since I had a good game. Ever since my last group broke up due to interpersonal conflicts—seriously, how many times did we have to repeat “do not date in your game group” before people got it—I hadn’t had a good game. Then again, I was living an urban fantasy campaign. But… well, there was still something missing.
On the grid map, we’d sketched the inner layout of the building as best as we could gather from my repeated uses of Scry. Added on to it, we had another section for the second floor. Theoretically we should have had one more for the basement, but considering we’d never seen the basement itself, it was currently empty.
On top of all this, we had a printout of the satellite image for the neighborhood and a map of the roads around the location itself including one-way streets, exits to the nearest highway, and other viable and contingency roads. I’d also taken the time to mark where the nearest police station was, though as we’d found out, the police did have a few roaming patrols.
“I’m not sure if I’m impressed or disturbed by how competent you are planning a robbery,” Alexa said, watching as I jotted further information onto the map.
“Blame Shadowrun,” I said.
Lily snorted at that, while Alexa looked at me blankly.
“This is so a Shadowrun job. You’re even going to go in the front door, guns blazing!” Lily giggled.
“There are no guns. Wait, are there guns, Henry?” Alexa asked, staring at me.
“No guns. It’s just a saying.” I cocked my head sideways at Lily. “Though I’m surprised someone knows it.”
“I like reading fanfic,” Lily said. “And other people’s recounting of their games.”
“Ah…” I paused, considering the jinn. “You know, you could just sign up to play a game.”
“I could?” Lily paused, her gaze turning unconsciously to the ring on my finger. After a moment, she smiled and nodded. “I could!”
“Did… did you just not realize it?”
“You try living a few millennia trapped in a ring,” Lily said with her arms crossed. “I forget I can, you know, do things.”
“Ahem.” Alexa cleared her throat and pointed at the map. “So what are we looking at?”
“Well, if things go bad, we’ve got about ten minutes before the cops arrive—give or take—from the station. Probably five if there’s a roaming patrol car,” I said, tapping the map. “The neighborhood is mostly made up of double income earners, so I think going in during the day at around ten would be best. At night, there’s a lot more people, so we’re more likely to get spotted. Better to do it when everyone’s out.”
“Sounds fair,” Alexa said.
“Right. We go in during the day. If we wait till they’re all upstairs, we can walk right up to their front door. If I spend the rest of tonight, I’m pretty sure I can make the equivalent of a lockpick,” I said. “Which will get us in the front door. Then we just have to—” That’s when I stopped, realization hitting me.
“We’ll have to deal with them.”
“Right. Yeah…” My brain stuttered to a stop again, a pause that made Alexa frown at me.
“What’s wrong, Henry?”
“I’m not sure about our plan. If they resist, we’re going to have fight them. They’ve got guns and…” I paused, drawing a shuddering breath. “And I don’t know if I can put them down without killing them. If I’m willing to kill them. If I can. What if I freeze? What if you get shot while I freeze? What happens if my shields can’t hold up against the bullets? What if the bullets bounce and hit them? What—”
“Henry.” A hand falls on my arm, squeezing it so tight, my breath hitches and my rambling stops. “You haven’t killed before, have you?”
“Yes, I have,” I said in protest.
“I don’t mean rats. Or demons. Or obvious monsters,” Alexa said. “I mean humans. Or those close to them.”
“I…” I shook my head. “Why is it so different?”
“Because it is.” Alexa shrugged. “We all have our own mental hiccups. It’s not a bad thing. It
doesn’t make you weak. But I need you to think about this, very carefully. Before we make any more plans, I need you to know where your lines are.”
“And if I can’t kill them?” I whispered softly.
“Then we’ll know. And plan around that,” Alexa said.
I nodded dumbly and took my arm back from her. I realized with a shock that my hands were shaking, adrenaline setting my nerves tingling and my heartbeat rocketing without any real escape. I stumbled to the couch and sat down heavily, breathing slowly as my mind spiraled.
Could I kill? Should I kill? They were gangsters. Drug dealers. Bad people. But I wasn’t the Punisher. I was no soldier who got up in the morning and chanted songs about shooting my enemies in the head. I was a gamer given a gift, and I’d mostly used it to do good. Sure, I’d been in a few fights, but killing a demon or Devil Rats wasn’t morally reprehensible. They were pests. And demons. I’d have to be really messed up to have a moral problem with killing demons.
I paused, realizing I was shying away from the topic at hand once again. Killing humans. The drug dealers. Was it right? If they tried to kill me, sure. I could do that. Eye for an eye. No problem. In the heat of battle, it made sense. But here, I was planning to break into their house and fight them. It was so cold. So, wrong.
Was that why the law had differences between premeditated murder and murders of passion? Because planning and acting on a plan was so much worse? That you had to steel yourself to do it? But weren’t these drug dealers doing the same? With their drugs.
Where do we—do I—draw the line? I was no saint. I wasn’t going to say I would never kill. That only worked in comics. Hell, considering how much damage Batman did on a regular basis to the average mugger, in the real world, he’d eventually accidentally kill someone from a medical complication, an unknown heart condition, a seizure, a blood clot entering the brain. Humans were fragile.
But it didn’t mean I was about to go around killing others. Or that I should. Somewhere, somehow, there should be a line. At least for me.