by Martha Carr
A female half Wood Elf produced green sprouts from her hands that quickly grew into thorny vines, wrapping around the closest witch’s ankles, rapidly spreading up her legs, pricking her skin. The other witch swirled her wand, yelling, “Expedia,” turning the vine to rot. The witch in front held her ground, ignoring the stinging pain and focused, sending blinding sparks from her wand, hitting the elf square in the chest knocking the Rhazdon follower out cold as her head connected with the far wall making a satisfying thud.
An older couple walking by darted inside, pulling out their wands. A witch and wizard who had joined Rhazdon’s cult and were being called in as reinforcements. The witches in the Order looked momentarily surprised but they immediately recovered and aimed a spray of gold sparks at the couple.
“Betrayer of your own kind!” shouted the witch whose legs were covered in a rash from the poisonous vine.
The Rhazdon wizard held out his wand, sending a silver shower while a black cloud swirled around his wand. A sure sign of dark magic and a poisoned heart. His companion joined in, sending out more sparks that pushed back against the Order’s stream of magic fire.
The streams met, curling around each other, pushing back and forth as both sides held their positions. The injured wizard from below crawled up the steps, dragging his leg, his face caught in a grimace, his teeth clenched. He got close enough to aim and whispered, “Tabula rasa.”
A pulse of magic sought out the couple, wrapping around their heads, searching for any recent memories, erasing them for all time. They dropped their wands, the silver streams of magic faded and the gold hit them, knocking them back. Both of them sat down hard, looking around, confused.
The witch closest to the wizard turned around, surprised. “That’s forbidden. Always!”
“By any means necessary,” he grunted, resting his head on the step.
“That is a line we don’t cross!”
The other witch snapped at her, “And then they take whatever they want from the vault! Hundreds of dangerous artifacts and relics! And chaos reigns on this world! He was right! We defend the vault!”
There was no time to say anything further. They could see a double-decker bus stopping at the corner and a stream of people getting off. They looked like tourists, smiling and chatting with each other. But the two witches knew they were a wall of intruders about to invade their sanctuary. They were going to be overrun.
The witch hurriedly spoke into the device on her shoulder, a walkie talkie that was infused with a charm. “We can’t hold them much longer. Stand ready below. It was a privilege to serve.”
But just as they breached the door, auxiliary members of the Order came from stores, the nearby subway stop, and from the beach a few blocks away. They poured into the Pumping Station from the opposite door, pulling out their wands, already firing at the onslaught coming from the other direction.
The spells on the doors made them impenetrable and no sound or light escaped the room. The humans passing by had no idea what raged on just yards from them. Some looked with curiosity at the number of tourists suddenly interested in the building, wondering if a play was about to start, but kept moving on to their destinations.
The waves of energy crossed each other in lines that made a checkerboard of light, starting small magical fires that would burn until someone deliberately put them out.
There were casualties on both sides. The Order used hidden charms in the walls to climb as if they were weightless, shooting down from above. More members of the Order flooded up the stairs from the vault, aiming low, knocking the cultists over like bowling pins.
In the middle of the chaos, no one noticed the young witch whisper a glamour spell, cloaking herself. She slipped up the stairs from the vault and moved along the wall, avoiding the fighting and reached an exit door in the back. She ran for the red line subway stop two blocks west, taking the stairs down two at a time, not making eye contact with anyone. More members of the Order flowed up the stairs. The glamour spell held, they ignored her.
Most of them knew who she was and would have wondered why she was leaving. On a more normal day they would have even noticed the telltale trail of magic that would have given away her cloaking spell. But today was no ordinary day. The wizard that brushed up against her outside on the sidewalk thought he saw a young college student intent on her phone. He didn’t give it a second thought as he hurried on to his destination.
When she got to the concrete platform below it was mostly empty, just a few people waiting for the next train. At the far end there was an old man sitting on a bench who looked like he might be homeless. Most people were avoiding him, standing at the other end. The girl walked as quickly as she could without drawing attention. He looked up at her as she drew closer, giving her a quick shake of his head.
She stopped where she was in front of a nearby bench and sat down, trying not to cry. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the velvet box she had taken from the vault and slid it under the bench when no one was looking in her direction. She knew she was betraying the Order she had sworn an oath to, just like her mother and grandmother before her. But it was this or let them breach the vault. Much worse things could happen. At least that’s what she told herself as she got up and headed back to the stairs.
The old man grunted as he stood up and smacked his lips, picking his nose. People moved further away from him, turning their backs. No one wanted to see what he might do next. He sat down on the bench and pulled out the case, opening it to make sure. Inside was a heavy gold necklace with a diamond-shaped jewel hanging from the end.
Rhazdon’s new followers had their prize.
He held open his worn puffy coat, releasing a nauseating wave of old sweat and bile that could be smelled yards away from him. He chuckled to himself, knowing no one would want anything to do with him.
“Retreat,” he whispered, his eyes glowing for a moment as he held a clear fireball inside of his jacket, breathing the word into it. It looked like a bubble as it floated up the stairs to the surface. Once it was clear of the subway it rose higher, taking off like a shot toward the Pumping Station, sliding through a door.
The old man’s voice blared out over the crowd. His whisper had become a shout. “Retreat!”
All of the Rhazdon cult members looked up, still brandishing their wands but they stepped back. No one tried to make any further progress toward the stairs and the vault.
“This can’t be good,” said a witch. “Why are they giving up?”
As the cult got outside they folded up their wands, putting them back into their pockets. Those with older models made out of wood slid them into purses or inner pockets specially made for a long wand. Most went back to the double decker bus, chatting away about the Chicago scenery, as if it was just another day.
“It’s gone! The necklace is gone!” A young wizard tore up the stairs, stepping over fallen comrades, searching the faces around him for someone to tell him what he should do next. Two older witches barreled down the stairs past the young wizard and into the vault. They ran down the aisles to the left, looking up till they hit the R’s.
There it was. An empty space right next to Jack the Ripper’s razor. The necklace was gone. Someone had betrayed them. Worse, they knew it had to be one of their own.
“You stay here and make sure nothing else was taken. Get help and check every other piece in here,” said the witch with a short grey bob. She had a black streak across her cable knit sweater where a blast had come a little too close.
Hundreds of items, all carefully catalogued. It would take a while to be certain.
“Consider it done, Eloise,” said a short, round witch with a twisted braid pinned into a bun on the back of her head.
Eloise ran back up the stairs, already yelling, “Secure the wounded enemies. Don’t let any of them go! Get help for our own!” Someone would pay for this betrayal, even if it meant opening a portal to Trevilsom Prison, or death.
Leira felt the tremors from the magical earthqua
ke all the way across the country. She was sitting at her desk in the precinct looking at a new case file, another dead body, when the rolling energy passed through her. She looked up at Hagan, half expecting him to look startled too, but then she realized it wasn’t the ground shaking. It was passing through the air. She saw the wavy opaque lines spreading out, and just as quickly dissipating.
“I gotta go.” She stood up, pulling her jacket off the back of her chair.
“What? What just happened?” Hagan looked up from the report he was typing. There were always reports to do for someone about something. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing, we’re good. I just remembered something. I’ll be back. Forgot an errand.”
“Don’t lie to me, Berens. I know that look. What just happened?”
Leira looked around to make sure no one else was in earshot. It was between a shift change and the main rooms were mostly empty. Everyone was out on the streets except a few who were working on reports from their desk.
“Something I don’t understand, but feels like it’s important. This feeling’s bullshit,” she said, patting her chest, “it’s like having someone tied to you who won’t shut the fuck up.”
“Berens, you’re just not used to feeling much of anything except determined, angry, bored and victorious. Anything else, you dismissed,” he said, brushing his hands together. “You’re building an internal dial to regulate all of that so-called bullshit. It’ll come together and then it’ll be like one of those old-fashioned meters Johnny Carson used to have.”
Leira looked confused, making Hagan roll his eyes at her.
“Carson? Aw, come on Berens. Greatest late-night TV host ever! Fine, you’re building this internal dial that will get better at recognizing the more touchy-feelie variety that doesn’t involve a takedown. Like actual happiness.”
“Well, my gut is saying this is important but I don’t know what to do with it. I gotta go!”
“I get it. You need to ask your magical guru, the big alien. Go! Go! I’ll cover for you here. No chance you’d… alright! Don’t give me that look! I’m almost done, anyway. I’m outta here soon enough. I want to try and mow the yard before the sun sets.”
“On your riding lawn mower.” Leira turned to go without waiting for an answer.
“A lot more effort than the ads let on,” yelled Hagan. Leira was already halfway down the hall, heading for the door.
She drove home, tapping the steering wheel, her nerves on edge. The magic had left a dark feeling that jangled her nerves.
She pulled into a spot in front of Estelle’s and got out, heading for the gate. She noticed Craig standing on the front porch with Mitzi and her schnauzer, Lemon and picked up her pace, shutting the gate behind her. She gave a short wave in the direction of the bar, in anticipation of all the shouted greetings.
“Leira!”
“We’ll save you a seat!”
They were used to getting a short nod or a wave most of the time and she secretly liked knowing she could count on the invitation, even if she only took them up on it occasionally. Want to be invited, don’t want to go. Got to find out if something bad has happened.
Leira was worried it was her mother but couldn’t bring herself to call the hospital. Not yet. She wanted to find Correk first.
She burst through the door to find Correk sitting on the couch watching her small TV, wearing some of the sweat pants he bought at Costco, the troll balanced on his knee eating popcorn. Startled, she stopped on the threshold trying to take in the scene. The troll opened his mouth wide, letting out a high-pitched whine.
“You’re letting in the sunlight. It’s glaring off the TV.” Correk looked sheepish as he pressed the pause button on the remote.
“I see you figured out how to work Netflix.”
“It wasn’t hard, and it’s HBO. Game of Thrones is actually quite accurate at times, although we’re not nearly so violent. At least not in the last thousand years. Yes, Queen Saria when left to her own devices can destroy a room…”
“When did I get HBO? You didn’t cast some spell to get that, did you? Never mind!” She held up her hand to stop him from answering. Her face was tight with worry as she shut the door behind her.
The troll frowned, shaking all over, his fur settling back down. He smiled and trilled, turning back to the large bowl of popcorn on the couch next to them. He dove headfirst into it, mouth open, chewing his way toward the bottom.
“I stopped eating it after the first few times he did that.”
“First few?” Leira dropped her purse on the red velvet chair, and went to lock her gun away in the metal lockbox in her bedroom.
Correk got up to follow her. The troll barked sharply.
“Okay, okay, my apologies.” Correk hit play again and the troll settled back into the bowl, his legs crossed, one arm behind his head, throwing popcorn into his mouth. “Don’t get too comfortable,” Correk said, as he followed Leira into her bedroom.
“You’re anxious.”
“Can you feel what I’m feeling? There is no fucking privacy anymore.” The lingering residue of magic was making her cranky.
“I went old school and used a human trick on you. Observation. Your face looks very determined and you’re home early, already pacing. You usually reserve that for later.”
“Funny.” Leira stopped and marshaled her thoughts. “Didn’t you feel that? Come on! Less than an hour ago. Big wave? Felt like…like…” She was clasping her hands, twisting them, trying to find the right words, afraid to say them. “Like something was dying.”
Correk’s expression immediately changed and he stepped closer to her, touching her arm. The remnants of the tremor passed through Leira and into Correk. His face grew serious as he pulled in just enough energy to push out the last traces of darkness.
“Thank God!” Leira finally took in a deep breath, letting it out with a shudder. “I could not shake that. What was it? Was it my mother?” She blurted out the words before she could stop herself.
He regarded her. “How long ago did this happen? When did you first notice it?”
“Why do you suddenly look so concerned? What the hell has happened?” Leira studied his face, feeling herself shift into detective mode, grateful for a familiar feeling. “Tell me what you know.”
It was a moment before Correk replied. “There was a surge of energy that I’ve felt before but only when there is a battle nearby.”
“Impossible,” she shook her head. “I’m with the Austin PD, remember? They would have called everyone in.”
“You’re thinking like a human detective. That’s going to get in your way with this. Combine the two sides of who you are. A magical detective. Use both skills together.”
She eyed him. “You’re magical. Why wouldn’t you have felt it?”
He barely moved his head left, then right. “It’s what I felt when we were at Lavender Rock. You’re far more powerful than almost any other magical being. There’s something different about your DNA.”
“How is that possible?” she continued her questioning. “How could I not have known all these years?”
“The short answer is that magic relies on feelings, like I’ve told you. You chose to put your feelings away. And I suspect there were clues that you were able to ignore.”
“Like being very lucky,” she drew the last word out.
“Exactly.” He pointed to her. “You were pulling in magic energy against all the odds. But that’s as far as it went. It’s difficult to really advance in magic without a mentor of some kind who can show you how to harness it, direct the flow. You pushed back against it, suppressing your powers. You have to invite magic into whatever you’re doing. Otherwise it waits patiently on the sidelines.”
“Magic’s not douchie. That’s what you’re saying.”
“I refuse to respond to that.”
“Do beings on Oriceran not cuss?”
There was the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth towards a smirk. �
�No, we prefer to send out fireballs. Makes the point much more efficiently.”
Leira sat back on her bed. “I can feel this power from someplace deep inside. It feels like it comes up through my feet from somewhere else. Somewhere bigger.” She looked up at him. “But where?”
“Where this power is coming from is for another day. I can’t determine that just by transferring some of what you were feeling through me. Besides, that can wait. What matters right now is that what I felt pass through me was not only from a battle, it was laced with very powerful dark magic. Magic that is supposed to not only be outlawed but under lock and key.”
“Protected in the Light Castle.”
“And yet, here it is, being used on Earth, but for what?” He started pacing back and forth. “That pulse you felt was stronger than what you did at Lavender Rock. It may have traveled a great distance.”
“No reports about any disaster, natural or otherwise. They covered it up. Fighting in front of humans is undesirable even for the darker side.”
He stopped pacing and looked over at her. “There you go. Now, you’re using all of your abilities. Two forces went at each other but both had their own reasons for not wanting to be detected.”
“What matters here is the reason why. What would magical beings think was worth the risk of being exposed using dark magic? Even death. I felt death inside of it when it first hit me. I could feel the pain of beings dying.” Leira pushed her fist into her stomach, the memory of the feeling washing over her again.
“I’ve never seen abilities like these,” Correk said, looking at her from top to bottom, shaking his head. The troll barked and laughed from the other room. “He can still feel your emotions but he thinks the flying dragons are funny. Ignore him.”
She drew a breath in, and then blew it out. “I’m not sure what to do next.”
“Focus. Allow the feelings to come to the surface and the information it wants to tell you will just be there. It’s like reading. You feel a lot of impressions, or symbols and you interpret their meaning. Focus. Shut your eyes if you need to.”