by Colin Sims
I grinned and asked, “Can you show me the Canti for FB again?”
I asked that question for two reasons: 1.) I’d recently discovered that McFadden—no matter how much crap he gave me—had to do what I said. This simple fact bugged him to no end and he knew that I knew it. 2.) He strongly objected to calling Force Bubble, “FB.” He was a purist, after all, but I explained to him that we now lived in the age of acronyms—to which he expressed a profound sense of relief that he was dead.
So with a sour face, he showed me the Canti for FB.
“Any chance you could show me again?” I asked.
His face pinched even more. “Well, of course,” he said. “I should’ve guessed. We’ll be here for the next century and a half as you learn this basic spell, won’t we? Very well. I’ll do it slowly for you. Try not to pass out from the information overload.”
And so we continued practicing for a few more hours. Eventually, I could do both spells about ninety percent of the time. The remaining ten percent, I’d screw up a note or two, and the spell would pop like a soap bubble.
Still, I’d had enough for one day. Practicing magic was just like piano practice when I was a kid. It was really draining. Not because it was physically tiring—but because when you did it, you were actually concentrating the entire time. It wasn’t something you could do on autopilot.
I left the Solitar and headed back out to the living room where I found Buckner playing against Brian in a split-screen of Kill ‘em All! From the sound of things, it seemed like Buckner was winning.
“You’re a little bitch!” Brian shouted, angling the controller and hammering his thumb on the trigger.
I flopped down on the couch and watched. I winced as Brian got hit with a tank shell. “Ouch,” I said.
“I’m taking Tupac here to school,” Buckner declared.
“You’re a little bitch,” Brian said again. (He stuck with the classics.)
I decided to egg him on a little. “Brian, you suck,” I said.
“Yeah? Why don’t you step into the ring, Frenchie? I’ll take your goddamned head off with a chainsaw.”
“I think François’s got plans today,” Buckner said.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “I do?”
“Well you’d be crazy if you didn’t, homeboy. Who was that off-the-charts hottie who stopped by the other day? I’d’ve asked ya about her sooner, but I didn’t wanna jinx nothin’.”
I knew he was referring to Cassie, of course, but I couldn’t resist playing dumb. “Who?” I asked.
“Who? Shoot, hoss. Don’t even try to play that game with me. You know exactly who I’m talkin’ about. She was like six feet tall, way hotter than any guy deserves—except me of course—and kinda Asian-looking, but not quite. Ring any bells there, Casanova?”
“Oh, her,” I said. “Yeah, she’s cool.”
Buckner snorted. “Looks like I ain’t the only one tryin’ not to jinx things. See that, Shakur?” He nudged Brian with his elbow. “François here’s dating a supermodel and he’s cool as a cucumber. You could learn a thing or two from that.”
“You’re a little bitch!” Brian shouted.
I laughed and watched for another half hour until I got a text from Cassie. I was mildly surprised that it was all business. It said: “URGENT. Death priest in NY. Meet me at H sign ASAP.”
Whoa …
I had another delayed reaction as I stared at the screen. A death priest? I wasn’t totally sure what that was, but it didn’t sound good. Plus, the fact that Cassie didn’t seem excited about it put the hairs on the back of my neck to full attention. Did she mean that she and I were supposed to fight it? Crap, I only knew four spells …
“Shoot, that’s her, ain’t it?!” Buckner exclaimed.
I looked up. “Uh, I gotta go,” I said. I started to stand, but paused mid-crouch. I looked at Buckner. This could be the last time I ever saw him. “Hey man,” I said. “I love you.”
“You’re a little bitch!” Brian screamed at the TV.
Buckner raised an eyebrow at me. “Well I’ll be damned. She’s brought out your sensitive side, amigo. Love you too. Now go get ‘em.”
I took the familiar route to the Hollywood Sign with Mary Lou puttering at full speed. (In case you’re wondering, that’s about forty-five miles per hour.) I got there in record time using some of Cassie’s driving techniques.
When I arrived at the hilltop overlooking the sign, I saw her car, but not her. It seemed a little odd that she wasn’t waiting for me. Usually she did, but this time I figured she must have gone through the door already. Maybe she was waiting on the other side. I trotted down the hillside to press the yellow link and roll aside the fence. I didn’t even look at the guard. Once I was through the backdoor, I found myself exiting the same office building in Manhattan and staring up at the Public Library. Nothing seemed amiss—no dark, swirling clouds gathering overhead or anything like that. The only thing that was weird was the absence of Cassie. I got out my phone and texted her. After a minute of waiting and not hearing back, I decided something was wrong. I went back through the door and returned to LA. I noticed that the guard was gone.
Crap.
I didn’t know what that meant, but it definitely wasn’t good. I did the only thing I could think of. I called Rosewood.
“Ah, a pleasant surprise, François. Is everything well?”
“I can’t find Cassie,” I told him in a rush. “She texted me a half hour ago to meet her at the Hollywood Sign but she’s not here. She said something about a death priest.”
Rosewood’s tone changed immediately. “Her vehicle, François. Is it there?”
“It is,” I answered.
“Damn. Listen to me carefully. Do you have your Solitar with you?”
I checked my pocket. “I do,” I said.
“Good. I need you to go inside it and learn a new spell. It is a Level Three. Time is a factor so you must do it quickly. Do you understand?”
“What’s the spell?” I said.
“It is called Vigilia Temporis. McFadden will explain the rest. Go now.”
I didn’t say another word but popped open the Zippo and sparked the flint. McFadden was already waiting for me on the football field. He held up a dismissive hand. “No need to explain,” he said. “I know everything. Flip to page two-thirty-one and keep your head on straight. You only have minutes, so we must make every second count. Is that clear?”
I nodded and opened Intro to Spellcasting. My space inside the Solitar had already become populated with a number of desks, workbenches and random other stuff in my own version of an outdoor Bat Cave. I settled at one of the desks and peered at page two-thirty-one. This is what I saw:
Vigilia Temporis
IVW IVF IIIY VIIS XD IIG VF XY IIG VIIW IIID IIS IXG IIY IIIF IID IIIS IVF IIIY
Shit, I thought.
“That is of no use to anyone,” McFadden said and smacked the desk with his cane. “Focus. Look at each Cantus and ‘play the note.’ It is very simple. Take one at a time.”
I formed an Imago and made the gestures with my fingers. I’d never even attempted a spell like this. It was like playing Mozart when all you know is the theme from Top Gun. It had all kinds of Gammas, Phis and Deltas that required a far more delicate touch than I was used to. Still, I made it about a third of the way through before my first screw up.
“Damn,” I breathed. “What does this spell even do?”
I restarted with a fresh Imago, as McFadden said, “It allows you to peer into the past by a period of twenty-seven minutes, thirty-eight seconds. And before you ask, the odd time allotment was conceived by another race. Now hurry. Thirty seconds have already passed outside the Solitar. You may only have thirty seconds more before it is too late.”
Too late for what? I still didn’t know what was happening. Had Cassie been kidnapped? By who? Or by what? And how was Vigilia Temporis going to help?
I refocused on the spell. I made it about halfway through. It was
those damn Deltas that were the hardest. They were like pressing a piano key with a feather.
“You’re getting closer, François,” McFadden noted. “But you’re thinking too much. Let your fingers do the work. Not your head. Understand?”
I nodded, thinking: No head. Fingers only.
I made another Imago. The first few Canti went by in a breeze. Then I made my first Delta and it worked. I kept going. I made it through a couple more Gammas and Phis and even a Delta, and then—like a miracle—I was within two Canti of completing the spell.
Now, as any big league pitcher might tell you, this is where the pressure lies. It’s those last few pitches that really get your heart going. Everything is on the line. Success is only a split second away, and the game is yours to lose. I paused to take a breath. My right ring finger made a Phi. The Fulmen stuck in place. I exhaled. Then my right middle finger made a nice, easy Psy.
Boom.
Vigilia Temporis.
Once or twice in my life, I’ve felt pretty proud of myself for a few of things. Winning that one wrestling match. Doing my first hangman with a yo-yo. But learning a Level Three spell in less than a minute topped them all.
McFadden tapped his cane on the desk again. “Quickly now,” he said. “Cast the spell outside the Solitar. Use your mind to rewind time and then watch the proceedings on ‘fast-forward.’ With any luck, you will discover what happened to your friend. Good luck.”
I told him, “Thanks,” and zipped back outside. I didn’t waste any time looking around. I cast the spell and a small, misty cloud appeared in front of me. It swirled into a spiral until its center was clear as glass, like the eye of a hurricane. Through it, I saw a fisheye view of the very spot where I was standing. No one was there. I remembered McFadden saying to “fast-forward” with my mind. Once I did, little bugs started zipping across the image while blades of grass vibrated unnaturally. It lasted a few seconds until I saw her. The view instantly slowed to normal speed. Cassie rolled the fence aside and headed down to the H. She waited outside it, staring at her phone. A full minute passed with nothing happening. I was about to fast-forward again when I jumped in shock.
There are some things that are just flat out scary. Public speaking. The little girl from The Ring. And a certain species of spider called a “trapdoor spider.” It doesn’t use a web. It digs a little hole in the ground, hides in it, and then jumps out and drags you inside when you walk past. And by “you,” I’m referring to its typical prey of crickets and small mice. Unless of course magic is involved, in which case, the trapdoor spider is the size of a car. And also—unless I was seeing things—it had the upper body of a human female attached to its the front, kind of like a “spider centaur.” Or something.
It jumped out in a spray of dirt and grabbed Cassie before she could react. Her body went limp as soon as it touched her. It then pulled her back underground. The whole exchange only took about a second.
I dropped the spell and looked to the spot where it grabbed her. The ground looked totally normal. There weren’t any telltale signs of a recently dug hole.
My first instinct was to call Rosewood again, but my feet—already moving toward the spider hole—vetoed that plan. I was going after Cassie and I wasn’t waiting another second. When I reached the spot, I stared at the dirt. I kicked it a few times, but it was solid. Then I saw it. It was so tiny I easily could’ve missed it. A pebble, about the size of a pinhead, glowed in a muted, olive green. I poked it with my finger and the ground opened up beneath me.
Sometimes with the benefit of hindsight, you realize you should’ve done certain things differently. Like for example, I could’ve stood back a little or kicked at the pebble with my toe. Instead, I bent over at the waist, peered directly at it, and poked. The next thing I knew, I was tumbling face-first into darkness before crashing through a tangle of sticky cobwebs and landing on a rock. I groaned and rolled onto my feet to get my bearings. I was in a large cave and it was nearly pitch black. I made a Firelight to get a better view.
I’d never felt more like Indiana Jones in my entire life as I pushed my way through giant spider webs by torchlight. And—just like Indiana—it didn’t take long before I found what I was looking for. A long, human-sized cocoon dangled from a stalactite in the ceiling while the spider woman crawled creepily nearby. She was working intently on another web. She was so focused, in fact, that she didn’t even notice my Firelight for a full second and a half until she spun around to hiss at me.
Now at this moment, I’d like to point out a very critical difference between men and women. You see, as a guy, there are certain things that I can’t help but notice—no matter the circumstance. In this case, it was the fact that the spider woman was bare-breasted and surprisingly attractive. Her hair looked to be dreadlocked in thick rows while her features belonged to those of a high fashion model. Now if the situation were reversed, of course, a girl probably wouldn’t have noticed these things. But I sure did. Spider Woman’s boobs were quite bouncy.
Anyway.
The point is that she saw me. Her eight legs moved deliberately along the walls, while her eyes remained pinned on mine. I edged closer to Cassie—or at least what I assumed was Cassie in the cocoon—and ditched my Firelight for a Firebolt. I tossed it at the thin strand of webbing fixing her to the ceiling. I did my best to catch her when she fell, although I didn’t really catch her. It was more like I broke her fall with my torso and got the wind knocked out of me. When I got back to my feet, Spider Woman was only a few yards away. Her spider body was sideways, but her human torso was bent to face me.
I took a step back and told her I didn’t want any trouble. (I honestly couldn’t think of anything better to say. It was a weird situation.)
She hissed in response, opening her mouth a little too wide for comfort. It revealed rows of long pointy teeth. Any thoughts I had about her being attractive vanished immediately. They were replaced with the very deep, profound and primal fear of getting eaten. I scrambled to lift Cassie’s cocoon over my shoulder and backed away a few more steps. It occurred to me that if Spider Woman decided to move quickly—especially in this environment—she could be on me in a heartbeat.
I formed a plan. It might not have been a good plan, but it was a plan. I crouched slowly to set Cassie down and formed an Imago. Spider Woman hissed at the sudden brightness. Her legs tightened, almost imperceptibly, but I could tell she was about to strike. I quickly did the Canti for Force Bubble. It popped up right as a yawning maw of razor-sharp teeth lunged for my face. They clamped upon a transparent barrier a few inches from my outstretched palm. The impact made her reel back with a howling screech. I made a quick Firebolt and threw it at her. She dodged it easily, moving sideways like a crab. I threw another and another until I got her right in the seam between her woman torso and spider thorax. It made her screech and sent her scrambling a few yards away, slapping at the spot with her hands.
Now was my chance. I popped the Force Bubble and grabbed Cassie. I dragged her with one hand, while I made a Firelight with the other. We quickly reached the spot where I first fell through. Then the clicking of too many legs came up behind me and Spider Woman lashed out with her claws. They caught my shirt as I rolled away. There was a small sting, but nothing serious. I attempted to form Basic Levitate, but screwed it up. Still, I had just enough time to throw a last-second Firebolt at Spider Woman’s face. She ducked but one of her dreads caught the flame and ignited. This made her even more frantic than when I got her in the torso.
I ran back to Cassie and tried BL for a second time. It worked and I cast it between her cocoon and myself. Then we were both drifting upward like a pair of astronauts in space. The speed was infuriatingly slow—but then again, this was Basic Levitate. The faster stuff took practice.
Spider Woman made a final lunge, but I got her with another Firebolt. She hissed in rage before a sudden explosion of earth brought us back above ground. I grabbed Cassie and trudged up the hillside as fast as my legs could
carry us. When we got back to the road, I leaned her against the Mustang and started tearing the webs from her face. Underneath, she was breathing but unconscious. I didn’t see any bite marks. Frantically, and with an eye on the spider hole, I called Rosewood. He answered within a millisecond.
“I’ve got her,” I panted, still huffing from the run.
“Is she conscious?”
“No. She’s breathing, though. The thing that took her was like a giant spider with a woman’s body. It’s still down there. Can it crawl back up?”
There was a pause. “Dear me,” Rosewood breathed, sounding a little surprised. “You are describing a Drider. Very dangerous indeed. François, listen to me. You must get Cassandra to the hospital. There is no time to lose.”
“Which one?” I asked.
“There is a magic hospital nearby. Its backdoor is located within the Magic Castle. Do you know where that is?”
The “Magic Castle” that Rosewood was referring to, ironically, had nothing to do with real magic. It was a famous mansion in Hollywood designed to be the world’s premier venue for magic shows—i.e. card tricks and disappearing coins. It had a fabled history, opening in the early 1960s, and every magician of note from Blaine to Copperfield had at one point performed there. Also, it had a very exclusive membership. No one could enter without an ID pin, and I—unfortunately—didn’t have one.
“I’m not a member,” I said, already hoisting Cassie up and dragging her toward the passenger door.
“I will call ahead, do not worry about that,” Rosewood said.
I starting ripping more webs off Cassie’s body and managed to fish her keys from her pocket. A quick thrill jolted through me at the thought of driving her car.
“When you arrive, there will be someone to greet you,” Rosewood continued. “He will lead you to the hospital’s backdoor. Is everything clear?”
I told him I understood and trotted around to the driver’s side. I pulled the door closed and twisted the ignition. The engine came to life with a deeply satisfying rumble. I gunned the accelerator and wound down the hill like a race car driver. I could suddenly understand Cassie’s unique driving habits—it was hard to drive the car any other way. A few minutes later, I skidded to a halt next to the Magic Castle’s valet parking stand and jumped out. A short, middle-aged man in a white coat bounded over to greet me.