by Drew Hayes
Amy took a long gulp from her lava drink, her veins shining so brightly that, for a moment, I could actually see the blood pumping through them. I had no idea what that, or any of her other potions, did. She was constantly fiddling with her own chemistry, brain and body, which probably should have made me concerned. But at the end of the day, there were few people I knew who showed as much wisdom and keen judgment when it mattered as Amy had in the past. Sure, she’d also gotten messed up on her own product before, and had caused us to hunt through a park for her; however, that was during a peaceful moment. In the clutch, Amy was someone I could count on. So I waited, patient and silent, as she considered all the things she might be able to do with more of her income left in her own hands.
“I really don’t want to deal with any of that.” It was a disappointing answer; however, I resolved myself to respect Amy’s wishes. As it turned out though, she wasn’t done speaking yet. “It sounds like a huge pain in the ass. All I want to do is work on my magic, hang out with my friends, and maybe hit a nice buffet here and there. Even if you were able to do something with my contracts, it would be this big ordeal and probably get a lot of other mages chapped at me. Then I’d actually have to deal with doing the investing and what-not, which is even more trouble and a drain on my time. No, I’m not doing that stuff. But at the same time, you’re right. If I turn a blind eye to the shit the older mages are pulling, I become complicit in it, and I’m not cool with that either. Since both options suck, I’m going to just hand all of that shit over to my business manager. And since you’re the only one here, I guess that’s you, Fred.”
“Flattered as I am by the offer, are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to find someone more qualified?” I asked. “I know next to nothing about mages or how they work.”
“But you’ve got lots of time to figure it out. It’s not like I’m going to have enough spare cash to start funding new mages right out of the gate.” Amy caught sight of the expression on my face and let out a low whistle. “Wait, I will? Just how much are these jerks taking every month?”
“Let’s just say that if I cut your payments in half and take ten percent of the savings as my fee, you’ll still be one of my most lucrative clients.”
“Damn. Okay, so we’ll take some time to figure things out while we let the cash grow, assuming you even can bust me out of those contracts at all.” Amy finished off her bottle and got up from the couch. “I trust you, Fred. Do your best to handle this, and when the dust settles, we’ll go from there. You’ve got my permission to renegotiate on my behalf, if you’ve got the grounds to do so. Just try not to take too long. This place kind of gives me the willies.”
Looking around, I took in all the sunshine coming in from every angle. The more I stayed here, the less it seemed like a warm welcome, and the more it felt like an implicit threat. If the glass broke, I’d have almost nowhere to hide. It was a subtle form of intimidation, and one I might have been imagining; however, I didn’t put it past Cyndi. It seemed mages counted on being underestimated by other parahumans, and that wasn’t a mistake I planned to make.
“Hopefully it won’t be long,” I assured Amy. “As soon as I hear back from Asha, we can get this started.”
5.
Neither stalling nor feigning ignorance had ever been skills I possessed much talent with, which made me deeply thankful that Cyndi didn’t try to hurry me along throughout the day. She only popped in twice—once to let me know lunch was being cooked, and once to bring along a nice pressed sandwich with a side of homemade slaw. I couldn’t fault her as a host; if nothing else, she was considerate of her guests while still offering personal space. And that was a good thing, because it took several hours for Asha to get back to me.
Not that I was sitting on my duff the whole time, by any means. While Asha calculated my angles of approach, I was working on a new set of contracts for Amy. I built a few variations, depending on how much leverage I would actually be walking into the negotiation with, but all of them were built around the idea of reorganizing Amy’s “debt” (I hesitate to use the word, truthfully, since the principal sum had been so thoroughly paid off) and getting her paid out entirely from the burden in the next few years. Timelines and numbers were tweaked so that I’d have wiggle room; however, even the most placating of options was still fairly aggressive. They’d been screwing over my friend, and I knew it, and I wanted them to know that I’d caught them.
By the time Asha’s return email arrived, I was more or less ready to present, and the news she sent was quite encouraging. In parahuman terms, my role as the head of a clan was something like a parent or guardian in the mundane world. I had to give permission for any of my people to enter serious fiscal or legal arrangements, and deals lacking such permission were retroactively suspect until finalized. It was, in truth, a lot more power and responsibility than I was comfortable having over anyone. For once though, I managed to keep things in perspective. What I was entitled to do and what I did were wholly different values; the power was only bad if it was abused. At that moment, the work I was doing came with Amy’s blessing, so I was still seeing her wishes through like I would for any client. It was like holding a power-of-attorney, nothing more, and I promised myself to never let it grow beyond that.
Armed with legal backing and a slew of potential contracts, I finally emerged from the office, just in time for what was ostensibly dinner, although it was hard to mark any change of time in this beach house. The sun never moved. The house was always flooded with a gentle, yet full light, like one would encounter in early morning. Part of me wondered if Cyndi only dismissed it when she slept. Another piece of me questioned if she slept at all.
“Fred, so lovely to see you,” Cyndi called. This time, she had apparently skipped the cooking, as there were a stack of pizza boxes lined up on the counter. “Don’t worry, I told them firmly no garlic anywhere on the pizza.”
“I greatly appreciate the consideration, and I’m pleased to report that I’ve finished looking over the contracts.”
“Good for you. Those things are dreadful, aren’t they? So thick and technical, I can’t believe you managed to read them all. And in just one day, too. Very impressive.” She tore into a piece of pepperoni, leaving me unsure of whether she was joking with me or not. Cyndi had obviously done some homework; she must know I ran an accounting firm. Did she really think I wouldn’t be able to parse through their contracts? I glanced to Amy for clarification, but she merely shrugged her shoulders and grabbed a slice of mushroom-and-onion pizza from a different box.
“Now that you’re done with the reading, I assume you’ve signed your contract and we can finally relax and get to know one another. I’ve got a few board games in the closet we can play, or I could transport us all to somewhere nice at nighttime. I haven’t been to Paris in a few weeks; that might make for a good trip.”
“Cyndi, forgive me if I misspoke and led you to a false conclusion.” No sense in putting this off; she was going to realize sooner or later that railroading us toward fun wouldn’t deter me from my job. “I have not signed anything, nor do I intend to do so.”
Her slice of pizza froze halfway to her lips, lowering slightly as she turned to look at me better. “Oh? And why is that?”
“Because I fully intend to exercise my rights as the leader of the House of Fred in relation to the mage Amy Wells. Primarily, my capacity to overturn existing contracts in favor of renegotiation. If you’d like to set up a time for a formal discussion of the issue, I’d be more than willing to accommodate that. You’ve been a gracious host, and isn’t my intent to try and catch you off guard and unprepared, so we can adjourn if needed.” I was dearly hoping Cyndi would take me up on the offer, because I was still a little too aware of just how much home field-advantage she held in our current situation. The law was on my side, yes, but we were in a sunlight-filled house where she seemed to freely manipulate matter.
“I see. You disappoint me, Fred. For a moment, I real
ly thought you were going to be different, but it seems you’re just another ‘true’ parahuman looking to use mages. The only difference is that you’ll be squeezing one for coins rather than magic or blood.”
Cyndi rose from her seat at the bar, placid look and grin both quickly dissolving. What remained in their place was a set of fierce, determined eyes, the sort that belonged to someone smart and dedicated enough to have achieved such mastery over the domain of magic. The tension in the air nearly crackled, and it might actually have sparked a few times—with magic, nothing is off the table. Before Cyndi could unleash either a verbal or mystical tirade upon me, however, Amy stepped in between us.
“Fred is doing what I asked him to do. Nothing more. If you’ve got a problem, take it up with the jackass elders who use money to keep us under their thumbs. And make no mistake here, Cyndi, Fred is acting with my full cooperation and what sure sounds like the backing of our treaties. Try to do anything to him other than talk calmly about contracts or terms, and I will protect him like I’d protect any friend getting attacked.”
Previously, I’d thought the room’s tension had reached a zenith, but I quickly realized how wrong I was. Cyndi and Amy stared one another down, and it was quickly apparent that while I was a catalyst today, whatever was between them had been simmering for a long time. Cyndi’s smile was back, although it looked nothing like the dopey grin she’d masqueraded behind all day. There was danger in those gleaming teeth, and a wicked curve at the top of her lips. “So, is today the day you finally do it then, Mage Wells? Are you going to challenge me for my title at long last? You may be a prodigy and the favorite now, but don’t think for a moment that you’re the first to try and take my position. I won’t be as easy a stepping stone as you’ve imagined.”
“That’s the problem with you old casters; you forgot how to think outside the box.” Amy reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial of green liquid. “The moment I break this, an entire square mile is going to be flooded with a gas that, while non-lethal, is going to leave you itchy, doped up, and all around miserable for the next few days. Since Fred doesn’t breathe and I dosed myself with the antidote this afternoon, I’d say that means you’ll be the only one affected.”
“Unless I transport it away,” Cyndi countered.
Amy snorted, almost a laugh but not quite. “You think I didn’t trap this bad boy in case of meddling? One bit of magic touches it, and the vial blows. It’s thin, too. Easy to break if someone tried to wrestle it out of my hands.”
“So, you’ll render me helpless, and then strike while I’m weakened?”
“No. We’d render you helpless, leave, and report whatever bullshit you tried to do through the proper channels,” Amy shot back. “I don’t want your fucking job. I don’t want to climb the political ladder at all. I just want to be left alone to do my work and live my life. Now, if you want to deal with Fred like what he is—a friend, and the head of my clan exercising his legal rights—then we can go on. If you’re planning to try anything else, then take a deep breath and hold it for as long as you can.”
Everything fell silent, and I found myself wondering if Amy had an actual escape plan beyond her vial. We were, after all, in a house we didn’t know the location of, surrounded by sunshine, so getting away was easier said than done. Thankfully, Cyndi’s body grew less tense, and she raised her right hand.
“Upon my magic, I swear that, so long as he acts in accordance with the laws of parahumans, I shall do the same. I will make no acts of aggression, only defense, and even then, only if a threat is clear, present, and provable. Does that satisfy you, Amy?”
“It’ll do.” Amy relaxed, putting away the vial once more.
“Good. But with that settled, I think your intervention has proven that three heads are not better than two, so with your permission, I would like to speak with Fred in private,” Cyndi said.
Amy’s head began to cautiously nod. “I guess that’s okay, if you—”
It wasn’t that Amy stopped talking; her mouth was still open, tongue still midway through forming a word. But she, like everything else in the house, had frozen still. Having already seen a time bubble before, I was less struck with shock by the sudden temporal shift, though I was worried by how easily Cyndi seemed to have conjured such a potent spell.
“I needed her permission, otherwise she’d have fought me tooth and nail,” Cyndi said. I think she meant it as an explanation, though it didn’t help me understand much. “Well, Fredrick Fletcher of the humorously named House of Fred, it seems you and I need to have a negotiation. Let us adjourn to the place where properly skilled mages settle such matters, shall we?”
Before I had a chance to answer—not that I imagined it would have made much difference—the entire world fell away from us.
6.
Despite my friendship with Amy, I’d never been much for drugs. Even in my human days, when leaving my state of perception behind didn’t require the talents of a specialized alchemist, I’d eschewed such mental adventures. Control was a thing I felt I had a fleeting amount of in my life, and I never felt compelled to give up the small amount of it I possessed. I say all that to lend context to the next statement: while having never actually experienced an acid trip, I imagine that they are quite similar to what happened when Cyndi pulled us out of the beach house.
Every wall fell away, dropping off into space and nothingness, from what I could tell. There was no sunshine waiting for us, however. Instead, it was a sky of stars, too many to be accurate, with glowing colors one never normally encountered in the real world. We floated up toward them, sometimes racing at incredible speeds, sometimes barely drifting, until we finally came to a stop. Before us was a conference room table, a football stadium, a battlefield littered with bodies and armor, and chessboard. I don’t mean each of those things was there side-by-side. It was all of them at once, and none of them. Cyndi and I were right next to one another, and also miles apart. I understand how mad this all sounds—trust me, I do—so please take solace in my poor description by remembering that, as frustrating at it is to read about such striking contrasts, living them was a far greater challenge. Especially for someone as rooted in reality as me.
“Do you like it?” Cyndi’s voice was all around me, not an echo or a shout, yet it filled the space we occupied effortlessly. “It’s an old spell the archmages’ created ages ago. One that only the grand mages and higher can tap into. Amy likes to pretend there’s nothing to be gained from playing the political game, but membership does have its privileges.”
“If I ask something like, ‘where are we’? I assume I won’t get a straight answer, right?” Cyndi could hear me, I saw her register my words, but I decided not to wait on a pointless answer. “Instead, let me ask you what the purpose of this place is. I had everything I needed to discuss terms back in the beach house.”
“I’m sure you did, and you’ll have it all here, too. For the record, you and I are still in the beach house. This is just a space our minds are occupying. See, the trouble with making deals around other parahumans is that they like to throw their might and powers around. You ever tried to negotiate with a fey? Forget it; they’ll glamour you into signing over your whole savings for a twig. Mages built this place to remove those advantages. Here, we are mere projections of our thoughts. You can’t hurt me, nor I you, nor can you utilize any powers you might have gained from drinking other parahumans’ blood.”
While I’m sure Cyndi meant the statement to scare me, to rip away advantages I’d been counting on, in truth, I was more fascinated than anything else. The mere idea of being able to deal with other parahumans on grounds like this was enough to make me want to crack open a magic book, if not for the fact that corpses, even ones as lively as I, couldn’t cast. Still, if the mages rolled this out widely, it could be incredible. Conference calls would never be able to match this level of interaction.
“Wow. This is incredible.” I spun around once, doing
a front somersault through the air like a child in a pool. Not the most dignified opening, I’ll admit; however, it was hard not to be a little charmed by the experience as a whole.
Cyndi was grinning again as she nodded her agreement. “Incredible, and useful. Because this does more than just yank us out of our bodies, Fred. It puts up a few negotiation safeguards. Whatever we swear to in here, it’s binding. Binding on a deep level. You can’t break a contract signed here; you can’t even contemplate the idea of it. And you can’t lie, at least not without it being plainly obvious.”
I finished my somersault and took a standing position once more. “Fantastic. That will speed things along. So, how do I summon what I need? Do I just think of it—whoops, looks like I answered my own question there, huh?” Midway through my sentence, a stack of pages had appeared in my hand. Looking them over, I found it was the contract I’d planned on opening my negotiations with, replicated precisely. Somehow, the spell had pulled a perfect copy from my memories, fleeting as they were. Archmages didn’t do things by half-measures, it seemed. “Here, let me think you a set as well, and we can get started.”
Another stack of pages appeared directly in front of Cyndi, who reached out and grabbed them, but made no attempt to read so much as even the first sentence. She was eyeing me uncertainly; somehow, I could actually see the confusion surrounding her. There really were no secrets in this place. “You made contracts?”
“Of course. What did you expect me to do, just tell you Amy worked for me now and barge out the door?” I was joking, yet from the combination of her face and the sense of surprise that rippled around her, I realized that that was more or less exactly what she’d been expecting. “Cyndi, I won’t insult your intelligence by assuming you didn’t do your homework before inviting me for this visit, so why are you so surprised to see me doing business like any accountant would?”