by Simon Hawke
"Did Ramirez detect trace emanations?"
Loomis sighed. "Yes."
"Well, isn't that the same thing?"
"You can draw your own inferences, Ginny. But you can only quote me on the facts."
"Can I quote you that you suspect necromancy was involved? That is a fact, isn't it?"
Loomis sighed again. "Very well. I suppose there's no avoiding it."
"Then you're going to be questioning local adepts?"
"Yes. We've already started."
"Who have you talked to?"
"No comment."
"Come on, Joe. Give me a break. You said you were going to level with me."
"I said, within reason."
"I'll probably find out anyway, you know."
"That's up to you. But if I tell people I'm going to question them in confidence, then it's going to stay that way. When I give my word, I keep it."
"All right. That's fair. What about Ramirez? Is he taking part with you in the questioning?"
Loomis hesitated. "No."
"Considering the fact that he's a sensitive, don't you think he should?"
"Until a few moments ago, I didn't know he was a sensitive."
"Why do you think he didn't tell you?"
"I intend to ask him that. He must have reasons of his own. It's certainly not general knowledge. You're not going to print that, are you?"
"Any reason why I shouldn't?" she asked.
"It's obviously something the man wants to be kept private."
"It's not exactly the world's greatest secret," she replied. "There are people in town who know about it."
"Maybe, but I certainly didn't know and odds are the killer doesn't know, either. If you print it, you'd be warning the killer and putting Ramirez in jeopardy. The killer could come after him."
"That might help you catch him."
"That's not the kind of decision I want to make for anybody else. At least hold off on it until I've had a chance to talk with Ramirez."
"Okay. I'll be interested to know why he didn't choose to tell you."
"I think I can guess," said Loomis.
"Why?"
"The other day, he asked me if I'd ever been involved in a case where I knew a cop was the perpetrator. And when I said I had, he told me that I'd understand how he must feel. And I'm afraid I do."
"You don't think he's going to try to find the killer by himself?"
"Cops like to wash their own dirty laundry," Loomis said. "Maybe adepts are no different."
In a week that had just barely started, yet had been filled with one shock after another, the story Merlin told had been the greatest shock of all. Paul had always believed that magic was merely a discipline and nothing more, in principle not unlike martial arts or yoga, a branch of metaphysical study that took years to perfect, and one that not everyone was capable of learning, an exacting art that required a great deal of devotion and involved a mastery of one's inner potential and an ability to tap the natural forces of the world. However, to learn that thaumaturgy was the genetic legacy of another race, a species similar in appearance to mankind, yet totally different, meant that he would have to rearrange his entire worldview.
It seemed unbelievable, and yet, it explained so much. It answered questions about human mythology that had puzzled scholars for generations. It explained why some people possessed paranormal abilities and others didn't. And why some people were able to master the discipline of thaumaturgy, while others could make no headway with it whatsoever, no matter how hard they tried.
"So then, the reason that I was able to become an adept is because one of my ancestors must have been an Old One?" Paul asked.
"Perhaps more than one," Merlin replied. "Individuals such as yourself, possessed of paranormal abilities, have always displayed a very high natural potential for thaumaturgy."
"But you yourself have no paranormal abilities," said Paul. "You're not a sensitive. And yet, your descent from an Old One is the most direct. You are the son of Gorlois."
"But my mother was a human," Merlin replied. "And from what we've been able to discover, even the Old Ones did not possess such abilities in equal share."
"Then that means . . . that I am not completely human?" Paul asked.
"Strictly speaking, no," said Merlin. "None of us are. It's impossible to say how many of the Old Ones survived the war they waged against the Dark Ones. Unquestionably, they blended in with human society in order to escape detection. It would have been a simple matter for them to disguise their appearance."
"They look different, then?" asked Paul. "I thought you said they looked the same as we do?"
"Essentially, they do," said Merlin, "only their skin color is markedly different. It's a coppery-gold hue, quite unique and beautiful. And their hair is often red, a bright, burnished sort of red that is sometimes seen in humans, but not often. Perhaps their appearance was the reason why so many primitive societies carved their idols out of gold. But the skin tone, at least, appears to be a recessive trait. I did not inherit my father's coloring. And I do not remember him as looking that way, so obviously he used magic to alter his appearance. However, the thaumaturgic gene is obviously not recessive, but dominant. What else can account for the latent ability being passed on to so many humans through so many generations?"
"It's incredible," said Paul. "You knew all this, and yet you've kept the knowledge hidden all these years. Why?"
"For a number of reasons," Merlin said. "For one thing, I did not believe that any of the Old Ones still remained alive. Occasionally, throughout history, stories would arise of some extraordinary individual possessed of gifts or abilities that others didn't seem to have, people such as Nostradamus, Cagliostro, St. Germain, and a few others. Immortal Old Ones? Perhaps. Or perhaps they were merely half-breeds, such as myself, who may not even have been aware of their true origins. But for centuries, there had been no real wizards, sorcerers, or mages. It seemed that I had been the last. Perhaps, over the years, especially in the early centuries of the persecution, all of the remaining Old Ones had been found and put to death. Or perhaps they had merely concealed themselves within human society, afraid to be revealed for what they were. They were hopelessly outnumbered, and in time, their children grew up as humans, never taught the old knowledge, never given the opportunity to develop their true potential. Eventually, they simply forgot who they were."
"But if they were as powerful as you say . . ."
"They weren't all mages," Wyrdrune replied. "Just as with us, the natural abilities were inherent in them, but they had to be developed. The most powerful of them were gone and the ones who remained were probably not as advanced as the others were."
"I see. Go on. You said that there were several reasons," Paul said.
"Yes," Merlin replied. "As I said, I did not really believe that there were any of them left. But if there were, they had remained concealed for centuries, assimilated into human society. There was no evidence that they presented any threat. And they had been forgotten. I saw no point in stirring up old fears and hatreds. Aside from that, human society had developed considerably. Each culture had its own myths and traditions, its own theology and worldview. There was nothing to gain in challenging all that, and a great deal to lose. Christian religions are founded on the principle that God made Man in His own image. Genesis may be a charming fairy tale, but a great many people take it very literally. Consider what happened during the twentieth century, when the teaching of evolution in the schools created a controversy that raged for years. People who believed in the literal truth of the Bible found themselves profoundly threatened by the idea that Man had evolved from simpler life forms. The matter was fought over in the courts for years and religious fundamentalists even went so far as to invent the ludicrous 'Creation Science' in an attempt to justify their theological beliefs. How do you think society would have responded to the idea that Man was not created by some superior being to be the dominant life form on the planet, nor did he even
evolve that way, but that there was once another race compared to whom Man was no more than an ape?"
"Yes, I see," said Paul. "Even now, such an idea would be difficult for the world to accept."
"And yet imagine what would happen if the world were confronted with incontrovertible proof of that," Merlin said. "It would rock human society to its foundations. When I awoke from my long sleep and embarked upon the laborious quest of bringing back the old knowledge of thaumaturgy to a world badly in need of it, I met with considerable resistance. In order to overcome that resistance, I had to do things I am not proud of. But so vehement was the opposition to what I was doing that I was left with little choice. There were those who tried to kill me, merely for trying to teach, for trying to bring beneficial knowledge to the world. And yet, that was nothing compared with what would happen if the world were to find out about the Old Ones.
"Certain hatreds and prejudices die hard," Merlin continued. "The early humans hated the Old Ones and feared them, though not without good reason. Even to this day, there exists an instinctive human fear and aversion toward anyone who's different, the fear that sheep have of a wolf within their flock. It's taken years for thaumaturgy to become accepted. In the days when I first started teaching, people had a fear and distrust of adepts. All that has changed now. You are regarded as a respected and important man in this community, Paul. How do you suppose your neighbors would react if they were to learn that your abilities as an adept are due to your distant descent from the Old Ones? Look how you, yourself, reacted! You were shocked at the idea that you might not be 'completely human.' You felt frightened, even threatened by the notion. Yet, you are an advanced adept, an intelligent, sophisticated, and educated man. How do you think human society as a whole would look upon adepts if the truth were to come out?"
Paul nodded. "Yes, of course, you're absolutely right. We have had enough trouble with racism among our own kind. To introduce the idea of a superior race, who were once our predators—and apparently, some still are—no, society would not take it well at all. I suppose Joe Loomis understood that, instinctively."
"Who's Joe Loomis?" Wyrdrune asked with a frown.
"The police lieutenant who is investigating the murder," Paul replied. "Obviously, he knows nothing of the Dark Ones, but he was intent upon concealing the fact that the victim was killed by necromancy, for fear of the effect it would have on the people of this town."
"That's very wise of him," said Merlin, nodding in agreement. "What sort of man is he, Paul?"
"Well, our paths had never really crossed until he called me in about the murder of that poor girl," Paul replied, "so I don't know him very well. However, he strikes me as a very competent man. Reasonable and forthright. He used to be a police officer in Chicago before he moved here, about ten years ago. You'd never know it to look at him."
"How's that?" asked Kira.
Paul smiled. "Are you a nostalgia buff?"
"Not as much as Wyrdrune," she replied. "I think he's seen almost every pre-Collapse film ever made. The classics, he's practically memorized."
"Ah," said Paul. "Then you'd be familiar with a movie actor named John Wayne?"
"The Duke?" asked Wyrdrune. He grinned and hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Sure thing, pilgrim."
"Joe Loomis bears more than a passing resemblance to him," Paul said. "And he's adopted western-style dress with a vengeance. Boots, bolo ties, Stetsons, the works. I don't know what it is, but easterners who move out here always seem to dress more western than the natives. Joe Loomis looks like a brawny Texas Ranger, but the moment he opens his mouth, you know he's from Chicago."
"So he's in charge of the case until the Bureau field agent arrives?" asked Wyrdrune.
"Well, technically, I'm supposed to be in charge, as magic use involved in the crime puts it out of his jurisdiction and makes it a Bureau case," said Paul. "However, I told him that I'm not even remotely qualified to conduct a criminal investigation, so I suppose until the field agent comes, my official role is that of an advisor."
"I was afraid you'd take it upon yourself to find the killer," Merlin said, "using your sensitivity."
Paul made a tight grimace. "I tried to convince myself I shouldn't," he said, "but I felt that it was my responsibility to try. I've already eliminated several . . . I suppose the proper term would be suspects." He sighed. "I did not enjoy doing that. In order to be certain, I had to look quite deeply. As a result, I've discovered things about some friends of mine that I'd rather not have known."
"The important thing is that you did not discover the necromancer," Merlin said. "Otherwise, you would be dead now. Or worse yet, enslaved by the Dark Ones."
"You think there may be more than one?" asked Paul with concern.
"It's possible," said Wyrdrune. "At this point, we have no way of knowing for certain."
"How will you know?"
"The runestones," Kira said. "If the Dark Ones or any of their human acolytes are near, the runestones will give off a glow." She paused. "That's how we know that you haven't fallen victim to them."
Paul glanced at her uneasily. "And what if I had?"
"Let's just say it's a good thing that you haven't," she replied.
Wyrdrune quickly changed the subject. "About this Bureau field agent," he said. "We, uh, have a way of keeping tabs on the Bureau, to an extent. However, at the time we left New York, they hadn't yet assigned anyone to the case. The moment they do, it's important that you let us know at once."
"And it's also important that the field agent doesn't know about us," Kira added. "At least, not until we've had a chance to decide for ourselves whether or not the agent is someone we can work with."
"It's the kind of thing that has to be handled delicately," Wyrdrune added. "It's not that we don't trust the Bureau, you understand, but any large organization is subject to security leaks. And in a situation like this, that's something we simply can't afford."
"I understand," said Paul. "But what happens if you determine, for whatever reason, that the field agent isn't someone you can trust with this knowledge?"
"Then we'll have to work around him somehow," Wyrdrune said.
"However, that may not be necessary," Merlin added. "We know that we can trust to your discretion in this matter, Paul, and you will be in an ideal position to help us determine whether or not the field agent can be trusted."
"You mean by using my gift," said Paul.
"Precisely."
"My so-called 'gift,'" Paul repeated wryly. "Over the years, I've come to look upon it more as a curse. I've found that as I've grown older, my sensitivity's grown stronger. When I was just a child, I didn't think much of it. Then when I discovered that it was something that made me different, something that the other children could not do, it became fun, using it to read their minds and gain an advantage over them. After I began my thaumaturgic training, I found that my sensitivity started to increase. I could look deeper into people's minds, discover their most closely held secrets. And that was when it began to truly frighten me."
"I can imagine," Kira said sympathetically.
He looked at her. "Can you?" He shook his head. "I don't think you can. We have all done things in our past, or thought things, that we would never wish to have revealed. There is an animal nature to the deepest recesses of our minds that can be truly terrifying. Are you familiar with the work of Dr. Jung?"
"No," she said.
"A pre-Collapse psychologist," Paul explained, "one of the field's pioneers, along with Freud. He delved deeply into the nature of dreams and the composition of the mind. He wrote of something he called 'archetypes,' models after which other similar things are patterned. He used archetypes as a way of classifying certain subliminal divisions of the human persona. One of the archetypes that he referred to was the 'shadow entity,' the animal nature that is within us all, that which governs our natural aggressive impulses, the fight or flight instinct, the instinct for survival. In a sense, it is the beast within us. In
most people, it can be said to slumber, to awake and become preeminent only at times of great stress or danger. It's the thing that often makes an ordinary man, even one who might think of himself as a coward, galvanize into a hero in a time of danger, such as war. In other people, it's closer to the surface. And in a rare few, it is predominant. These are the people who find themselves constantly driven to seek out great challenges, often at great personal risk. They thrive upon it. And of those . . ." he hesitated. "Of those, there are a few who are truly abnormal. What Jung called an 'aberrant personality.' Their minds are confused and tortured things, sometimes unspeakably ugly. They are the deviants. Contact such a mind . . ." He shook his head. "it is beyond description. It only happened to me once and I felt . . . contaminated. It was repellent and repulsive in a way that I cannot even being to describe."
"You actually encountered a murderer that way?" asked Kira.
"No," said Paul. "A young woman I was once very much attracted to." He made a small snorting sound. "I wanted to get to know her better." He glanced at Merlin. "So I took one of those shortcuts you warned me against. I wanted to know her heart's desire, so that I could give it to her if it was within my power. And I found out, to my chagrin. I have not used my so-called 'gift' since that day. Until just recently, when that girl was murdered. Fortunately, I have not encountered anything quite so disturbing as the secret heart of that young woman, but I've discovered that some friends of mine have some rather unattractive skeletons hidden in their closets."
"Then it's just as well that you didn't encounter the necromancer," Wyrdrune said. "Contact with the mind of a Dark One would probably drive you mad. Assuming you survived it."
"Well, at least it's a relief to know that none of my colleagues are responsible for this savage crime," said Paul.
"Unfortunately, we don't know that," Wyrdrune said. "It's entirely possible that the necromancer is not a Dark One, but a human adept who has become seduced by necromancy. It's been known to happen. Or it could be a Dark One who's masquerading as a human, in which case there is a possibility that it is someone you know."