by John Levitt
“That might be difficult right now. I need to be centered in order to get anything, and right now my psyche feels like it’s been scattered into little pieces.”
“Have another espresso,” I said. “That always calms my nerves.”
She smiled, but it was strained. I gave Lou another slight nod and he walked over and put one paw on her knee. She automatically put a hand down to ruffle his head, and when she did he rubbed against her calf like a cat. She smiled again, and this time the smile was real. Lou and I make a great team at running cons, even if they’re for a good purpose.
“Want to at least give it a try?” I said, holding out my hands.
Morgan took both of them in hers, just like before. She closed her eyes and breathed in, then half out, just like before. This time, though, there was no dramatic conclusion. She simply sat there, breathing evenly for a couple of minutes, before opening her eyes and releasing my hands. She shook her head with a quick back-and-forth motion.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t get anything this time.”
“Nothing?” I had been counting on at least something.
“Just some images. The only thing I could recognize was the Golden Gate Bridge, for what that might be worth.”
“Could you tell which side?”
“This side, I think. It was close to the tower, and I could see sunlight just hitting the top of the tower, so it must have been late afternoon.”
“And could you feel the presence of . . . well, whatever it is?” She shook her head again, slowly this time.
“No, just the bridge and you. There might have been other people with you.” That wasn’t much help.
“Well, it’s better than nothing,” I said. “I appreciate the effort.”
“Anytime.” She got up from the table and pushed the chair back in.
“I’ll give you a call if anything else comes up,” I said. “Or call me if there’s anything I can do for you.” I wrote my number on a napkin and handed it to her. “Or for any reason.”
Lou hopped into my lap and looked up appealingly at her. He makes a great wingman. Or wingdog.
“Sure,” she said, smiling more at him than at me. “Why not?”
SIX
NEXT MORNING I DUMPED ALL THE STONES into the original black-and-white messenger bag they’d come in. Lou looked on approvingly until I took a bunch of them back out, wrapped them in a piece of silk, and put them back in my trunk. When we left the flat, he stalked out ahead of me, stiff-legged and disapproving.
Half an hour later I walked into the study with the distinctive-patterned bag slung over one shoulder. Eli looked at the bag with frank curiosity, while Victor barely looked up from his seat behind his desk. Lou stayed a good distance away from me, and as soon as we entered the study he trotted over to the far wall, as far away from those things as he could get. He didn’t like anything about those rune stones, not one bit. If he could talk, he would have ratted me out for still holding some of them back, I’m sure.
I spilled them out dramatically on top of Victor’s desk, marring the pristine finish. Victor abandoned his casual demeanor as they cascaded past him. Usually he would have been pissed at my cavalier treatment of his precious desk, but in truth he was too awed by the aura of power emanating from them to do anything but gawk at that pile of ancient bones.
Maggie had been curled up under the desk, but when I dumped them out, she shot out of there like her tail was on fire. She ended up next to Lou, and they stared at me with both canine and feline disapproval. The feline variety was a lot more obvious, complete with lashing tail.
Eli bent over to examine the stones. He picked up one and gingerly held it between his fingers, where it glowed softly like a dying firefly.
“I had no idea,” he said, after a moment.
“Yeah,” I said. “They’re special all right.”
“You really shouldn’t have kept these.”
“I know,” I said. I tried to keep my voice neutral, but Eli was good at reading me. For a moment I thought he was going to pursue the matter, but finally he shrugged and placed the stone back into the pile.
“Well, you never know about these things. Maybe it was just as well you did keep them.”
“Do you think these are enough to do the trick?” I asked. Victor had quickly overcome his initial sense of awe and was examining one particular stone that was slightly larger than the rest.
“With this kind of firepower?” he said. “If they don’t, we’re in trouble. These stones are the magical equivalent of RPGs.”
“But we still have to figure out how to harness the power, and what kind of trap to set up,” Eli said, “so we might as well get started.”
Victor opened his safe and hauled out an impressive array of magical props—powders, a copper bar, shavings of various other metals, a few bottles of liquids, a twelve-volt battery, and as always, salt.
“What are you trying to do?” I asked. “Build something that can trap and hold it?”
“Building a cage will be comparatively easy,” said Victor. “Getting it into the cage might be another matter.”
“Then what? Why would it help us?”
“We can bargain. If that doesn’t work, there’s always Bertram.”
“No,” said Eli. “That’s not a good idea.”
“He’s effective. He can be very persuasive.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
“Why not? This Wendigo is a monster, after all.”
“We don’t know that. And no, we’re not using Bertram. End of discussion.”
Eli doesn’t say things like that very often, but when he does there’s no arguing. Victor shrugged and turned away. I was just as glad we weren’t calling on Bertram for help—his methods were unpleasant in the extreme, and he enjoyed using them.
Eli returned his attention to the large tattered book he was thumbing through, the kind of book you usually see in the rare-book room at the library or in specialty book-stores.
“We’ll need to find a way to compel it to enter. Ironic, is it not, considering how it operates?”
He closed the book and knelt down on the floor where Victor was arranging items according to some criteria I couldn’t even guess at. My improvisational use of talent has served me well, but it was at times like this that I realized how little I know. And how useless I was in this type of endeavor.
The two of them discussed strategies. Victor wanted to grind up a few of the stones and incorporate them into a larger matrix. Eli thought that too dangerous and unpredictable; he wanted to use the stones themselves to form a template. Neither one asked for my opinion, which was just as well since I didn’t have one.
Finally Eli won out on that point. They took half the stones and arranged them in a rough circle, not much larger than it would take to contain a person. I wasn’t sure if half was all they needed or if they were saving the other half in case something went wrong. A layer of salt was poured out, snaking in and out between the stones, and each stone was dusted with a small amount of iron shavings.
Most of the folk knowledge about magical operations is laughably wrong, but there are two items that crop up in myth all the time: iron and salt. And those two are real. Salt is practically a universal substance in any ritual designed to bind something, and iron is almost as common. All metals, except silver and sometimes gold, are difficult to work with. But iron is by far the most difficult; it’s almost as resistant to talent as is an Ifrit.
Victor spoke a command and let energy flow into the circle. He didn’t need much; it was like lighting a match to a bonfire of kindling. Power welled up, strong and fierce. Eli took a step backward, and even Victor seemed slightly intimidated by what he’d done.
“Now the attraction spell,” said Victor. “Mason, I could use your help here.”
At last I felt useful. Eli knows more about the operation of magical constructs than anyone I know, but he personally has only a minor amount of intrinsic power to work with. It�
�s too bad; if he’d been able to combine his knowledge with Victor’s power, he would have been one of the most powerful practitioners on the planet. But maybe he wouldn’t have been Eli then.
Victor reached over for the battery, connected a length of copper wire to each terminal and the other end of the wires to one of the green stones.
“He’s making an electromagnet,” Eli explained, “or at least that’s what it would be if it were hooked up to a metal rod. Same principle, though.”
Victor took hold of one of the wires and gestured for me to take the other one.
“We don’t want to try pouring energy directly into the stone,” he said. “That could cause problems. When I speak the code word, just feed it into the wire and it will flow into the stone. Got it?”
I nodded and grasped the wire firmly. Victor had one hand on his wire and the other on the stone. “Attract,” he said, and I let loose with a surge. Then he took his hand off the stone, saying, “Release.” I dropped the wire, but as he spoke he released another small pulse of energy into the circle. I understood what he was trying to do—set up code words that would activate an attraction spell or release it on command. I wasn’t sure it would work, though.
“How are you going to isolate its effect?” I asked.
Victor reached over to the circle of stones, took one out, and rearranged the others so that a circle remained. He then reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a flashlight. A quick consultation with Eli, a drop of liquid from one of the bottles rubbed on the lens, and then a few words spoken while holding the rune stone up to the flashlight. When he turned it on, the flashlight beam passed right through the stone, casting a green light on the far wall.
Back to the desk drawer, this time for some duct tape. He neatly taped the stone onto the front of the flashlight, securing it in place.
“Very elegant,” I said, looking at the duct tape.
“It works,” he said, shortly. Eli looked over at Lou and Maggie, who had uncharacteristically been looking on with great interest.
“We should test it on one of them,” he said.
“Why them?” I asked.
“Because Ifrits, as you well know, are immune to all sorts of magical compulsions. Aversion spells mean nothing to them. If this works on them, it will work on anything, even our tree-dwelling friend. It won’t hurt them any.” Victor looked a question at me.
“Why not?” I said. I pointed over to where Lou and Maggie were sitting. Maggie took one look at me and stalked over to the other side of the room. She was having no part of it. “Lou. We’re going to try something. If you feel a pull, resist. Fight it.”
He licked his lips nervously, but didn’t make any other protest. Trying to prove he was braver than a mere cat, perhaps. Eli nodded and Victor said, “Attract.” The runes around the circle flashed once. The he turned on the flashlight and played the beam of green light over Lou’s body. Lou stiffened, then started walking stiffly toward the circle. It wasn’t like what the Wendigo had done to me; this was more of a physical compulsion and Lou was fighting it all the way. He twisted his head around to look at me, either in supplication or disgust, but his steps didn’t slow for a moment. Seconds later he was inside the circle, and Victor turned off the flashlight.
“Can you get out?” I said to him.
He circled the perimeter once and sat down in the middle of the circle. He wasn’t even going to try.
“So far, so good,” said Victor, and he released the power flowing through the circle.
Lou trotted out, ignored my outstretched hand, and joined Maggie on the other side of the room. Showing that he preferred even her company to mine at the moment was his way of letting me know he was seriously pissed.
“Now you,” Victor said to me.
“Me? Why not you?”
“I need to check for possible flaws.”
After offering up Lou as a guinea pig I could hardly say no. I shrugged and walked into the center of the circle. When Victor activated it, I understood why Lou hadn’t even attempted to get out. I’d expected lines of force, or even a dome of energy blocking any escape, but nothing like this. It was like being locked in a bank vault with nothing but a butter knife to pry the door open. No magical energy could escape, either, and hopefully that would include the seductive power of the Wendigo’s voice.
Sheer force wasn’t going to do the job, but that’s not the way I handle things anyway. I probed for weaknesses, but there weren’t any. Those stones held immense power, and Victor had been his careful self in crafting it. There was no way out. Except, there’s almost always a way around things if you’re clever enough. Sheer force isn’t everything, and there was one weakness Victor hadn’t thought of. The circle couldn’t be affected from the inside, but what about from the outside? I signaled to Lou, who was still sulking on the other side of the room.
“I need some help,” I said. He looked at me sourly. “Bacon for breakfast tomorrow?” His ears perked up. When all else fails, bribery is usually a viable option with him. He stood up alertly, awaiting instructions.
“The circle. The stones. Grab one, pull it away.”
Victor turned to intercept him. But it was too late. Lou ducked around him, grabbed the nearest stone, and tossed it aside with a quick flick of his head, as if he were killing a rat. The circle was broken, and an opening appeared in the space the stone had occupied, just wide enough for me to squeeze through. I stepped out of the circle and tapped Victor on the shoulder.
“You’re it,” I said. “Or maybe, you’re dead.”
He started to say something, probably along the lines of accusing me of cheating, then realized how lame that would sound. Instead, he gave a reluctant nod.
“Good catch,” he said, grudgingly.” We’ll have to be alert for outside interference—we don’t know what else may be out there. Now all we have to do is figure out where our Wendigo might be.” He paused, remembering. “Did you have any luck with your psychic?”
“I’m afraid not. Something about the Golden Gate Bridge, and dusk; that’s about it. What are we going to do, set up the trap out by Baker Beach until it makes an appearance? And not to be difficult, but how are you going to tempt it to come to where you’ve set up the trap, anyway? What if it shows up a couple of miles away from the circle?”
“We’re not going to set it up beforehand,” Eli said. “We don’t have to. All the hard work has already been done. When—if we locate the Wendigo, we’ll set up the circle—it shouldn’t take more than a minute or so. But we can’t depend on finding it. What we need is some way to attract it to us.” Victor suddenly sat up straight.
“The shotgun,” he said. “Have you cleaned it yet?” My God, the man could be anal.
“Haven’t got around to it yet,” I said. “I was going to do it this morning, but I thought building this trap might be a tad more important.”
“No, no,” said Victor impatiently. “The residue in the barrel. We can use the residue if you haven’t cleaned it yet.”
“I don’t see it,” Eli said. “The powder has no connection to the creature.”
“Yes, but the barrel isn’t just fouled with powder residue. It also contains traces of the lead pellets which passed through it—a tiny bit of the lead sloughs off each time it’s fired.”
“Ah,” said Eli. “And those same pellets struck the Wendigo. Creating a connection between the lead pellets that hit the Wendigo and the lead residue they left in the barrel. Very good, Victor.”
“Unless you missed it,” Victor said to me. “Are you sure you hit it?”
“I’m sure,” I said. “It’s hard to miss something at that distance with a shotgun. And I fired four shots. I damn sure didn’t miss with all of them.”
“Excellent,” Eli said, rubbing his hands together. “Admittedly, the connection is weak, but I think we can work with it.”
Most magical operations are simply about utilizing talent to redirect and transform energy—everything from simple illusion
s to complex spells involving time and space. But there are some constants that help to enable such spells. The principle of similarity, for example. Using nearby water to effect fluid changes, or rock to draw energy for a protective shield, or the emotions of hate and fear to fashion a killing spell.
Or the rule of contagion—things once part of a whole but which are then separated retain an affinity for each other—like the shotgun pellets leaving part of themselves as lead residue an the rest of them striking the Wendigo.
I brought the shotgun in from my van and broke out the cleaning kit. Twenty minutes later I had a collection of cotton patches, damp with solvent, the first one black with fouling and each subsequent one progressively lighter. While I pushed the patches through the bore, Victor was busy pulling out additional magical tools from the safe.
“What do you think?” he asked Eli.
“A paste, a salve would be best, I think. We can apply it to Mason, and that should attract the Wendigo to him.” I didn’t like the sound of that.
“So not only am I the sacrificial goat, staked out to tempt the tiger, but I’m basically going to have hamburger rubbed all over my body? Why not just pour a bottle of steak sauce over my head and be done with it?”
“If we have to,” Victor said.
“If you’re going to be making up a magical potion, maybe we should give Campbell a call. No offense, but she’s really better at that sort of thing.” And at least that way, I could be sure whatever it was Victor came up with wouldn’t cause me to break out in boils.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Eli said. “Why don’t you call her, Mason?”
So I did, and after being filled in on everything, she was eager to come down. I spent the next few hours doing a magical refresher course with Eli. I’d been lazy of late, not keeping up with even the basics. I wouldn’t dream of playing an important gig without some practice time, and the same principles apply in magic. And we would be playing a very important gig indeed if this worked.