Tesser watched as the fat-fingered man curled his hands into fists, preparing for the inevitable altercation to come. Tesser's bright, golden eyes nearly glowed with intensity. The thick person stood his ground, showing more courage than Tesser expected.
"One more step, faggot, and I break your jaw," the fighter said.
Tesser didn't understand him, and even if he had, he wouldn't have stopped. His mind was made. He was a dragon and this was a mere man.
The man angrily stepped into a punch that, had it connected, would've been powerful. Tesser's draconic brain and reflexes saw it coming long before he even threw it, so when the fist whistled out, Tesser was already stepping to the man's inside with enough time to watch the attempted strike pass by.
The other man and woman watched the entire fight end in the time it took to take a deep breath.
Tesser grabbed the man's right wrist with his left hand and squeezed hard enough to collapse the two bones at the base of the hand. It was the kind of injury that would have resulted in death when Tesser last walked amongst men. Before the man could let loose a scream, Tesser hammered his own fist up and under the man's ribcage, sparing him shattered ribs, but collapsing both his lungs violently. All of the fight had left him and it had only taken a second. Tesser guided the man down to the pavement carefully, though not gently. The man's nose broke against the hard surface they stood on, and he balled up into the fetal position, heaving air back into his empty chest and holding onto his ruined hand as his nose bled out a large pool of red blood. He groaned in pain.
The other man discarded the woman and bolted, abandoning his friend.
Cowardice. I see the humans still can suffer from it.
"Thank you, oh thank you. They were going to rape me," the pretty young woman said, her eyes boiling over with fresh tears of relief. Tesser couldn't understand her, but as she threw her arms around his bare shoulders he knew the essence of what she was conveying. Gratitude. She cried until the man on the ground got his breath back, and started to moan complete words, begging for help.
"Sweet Jesus, please! You fucked my arm up, man! I need help. Call 911! C'mon!" He cried out, rolling around on the ground in agony.
"Go fuck yourself, you North Shore guido! You and your fucking homo friend!" The woman yelled back, clearly out of control. She let go of Tesser and started to rear back a high-heeled shoe to kick the man in the groin.
Tesser again didn't know what she said, but could piece it together. He snatched up her wrists firmly, moving his body between hers and the man he'd just beaten senseless before her kick could reach the hurt man. He made eye contact with her, peering into her blue eyes with his golden orbs.
"Your eyes…" she said softly, entirely forgetting about the man who had planned on attacking her. The gold glittered like its namesake and she was entranced. Her rage melted away.
Tesser knew one word's meaning, and knew already it was nearly universal, and he spoke it softly, "No." He shook his head to match it, indicating that her behavior was too much. She simply nodded, all the will to be cruel gone.
Tesser smiled genuinely, happy that she was safe. He let her wrists go and turned, his long naked body causing the woman to catch her breath. His human form, the same as his rat form, was perfect. Tesser caught the tiniest whiff of her unconscious arousal and smiled. It pleased him enormously.
He crouched low and leaned down to the injured man.
"No, please, man. Take all my money! Take my ring; it's worth three G's! Just don't kill me!" The man scrambled on his back, getting his clothing dirty in the garbage. His shirt was covered in his own blood.
Tesser shook his head in disgust as he stood and walked down the alley, leaving the man and woman behind to sort out their futures. When he could, he stepped behind one of the large metal refuse containers and shifted down into rat form and disappeared. They had seen nothing.
The woman wiped her eyes, smearing her mascara terribly, and reached into her tiny purse for her smart phone.
Chapter Five
Abe Fellows
Mr. Doyle's home was expensive; everything inside it was expensive as well. The Beacon Street brownstone would list on the market for well over five million dollars and that was a fraction of the value of the artifacts that the reclusive sorcerer had stored in it. Where Mr. Doyle had earned the money to own such a home was beyond the young man.
Abe let himself in and walked upstairs. He entered one of the upper floor study rooms and sat at the corner of a long mahogany table. Intricate scrollwork ran along all four edges of the table. Words and runes were delicately carved in a very precise and magically powerful fashion in languages that were spoken no more. The table had been enchanted over a century earlier to be used as a place for experimentation. The spells cast upon it would contain and nullify any accidents, protecting those sitting at the table and the rest of the room. Abe called it “The Error-Proof Table”. It alone would fetch half a million dollars at the annual arcane auction in Paris should Mr. Doyle want to sell it.
But the old man would never do that.
His employer sat at the head of the table. The British man had a receding hairline that was quite gray and a round face edged by soft wrinkles. Abe knew that was wrong. The wizard had been slowing the decline of his aging body for some time, and there was no way to tell just how old he was. Mr. Doyle had told tales of experiencing the First World War in person, and that would put his age at no less than a hundred. He didn't look a day older than sixty.
Mr. Doyle sat at the head of the table, leaning over the invisible wall of runes at the table's edge and examining a large pocket watch. The watch was made of gold and, like the table, had its own set of carvings and inset words and runes. Abe watched both the timepiece as well as Mr. Doyle intently, utterly and completely unsure of what was happening. He cleared his throat quietly.
"Shhhh," Mr. Doyle said softly, holding a finger to his lips.
He even shushes in a British accent.
"This watch, this marvel of magical engineering, hasn't worked in nearly ten years, Abraham. Ten years. It has remained in my pocket every day nevertheless. Yesterday, I heard it tick once at precisely noon. If you look at your wristwatch you will notice that we are just a few moments from noon. Your silence will be appreciated, young man."
"Of course. Sorry," Abe replied.
Why do I put up with his attitude? Seriously? I could totally apprentice under a different warlock or sorcerer now. Someone younger, someone with a more modern take on magic. Maybe someone in a west coast coven? Yeah, it might take me a year or two to find someone new, but it might be worth it.
The pocket watch ticked. Abe's eyes had been pointed directly at the second hand, and when it ticked off a single second, there was a brief flare of energy, almost like the watch had vibrated the very reality surrounding it, phasing into and out of our world. Abe felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
"Fantastic," Mr. Doyle sat up, pleased like a Cheshire cat. He adjusted his wire-rimmed, circular glasses.
"Does this mean…?" Abe let the question hang in the air. In truth, he had no idea what it meant.
"It means that some of the magic that has faded from this world is coming back, Abraham. Some of my most trusted associates back in the old world have confirmed that some of the spells and enchanted items that haven't worked in a decade are starting to function again. Powerful magic, Abraham."
Abe looked at the watch, then at his teacher. "What do you think is causing this? Alignments of the stars? A convocation of spellcasters? Some prophecy coming to fruition? Do we have any idea?"
Mr. Doyle sat back in his mahogany chair and wrung his fingers in thought. It was a habit of his. "I cannot say. Most of the prophecies of old are just the ramblings of mad men. Idiots and lunatics that thought they saw the future in tea leaves and the innards of a pig. Whatever has happened, or is happening, is unknown to me as of yet."
"What do we do?" Abe sat back in his own chair and looked through
the doorway into a study that was lined wall to wall with ornate glass cases filled with all manner of strange objects. Velvet cases held jeweled rings and bracelets, while hooked mounts displayed swords, daggers, and more than one firearm. That room and all its arcane contents was Mr. Doyle's lifelong passion. All things magical were his obsession.
Mr. Doyle sat forward, eagerness in his voice, "We wait, and we watch. Something will happen soon. A sign. A magical portent of the supernatural will arise somewhere, and if we are vigilant, we will see it, and we will move to it and investigate it as the scholars we are, Abraham. I am certain of this. Nothing this powerful happens without leaving a mark, or making itself seen sooner or later."
"Are there divinatory spells we can cast? Can we get out your crystal ball, or fill the scrying pool you've got in the other room?" Abraham's heart jumped. Oh boy, this will be fun. Real, honest, clairvoyant magic.
Mr. Doyle shook his head. "I'll see to that, Abraham. That is my forte. For now, I need you to do what you do best. I need you to search the internet. YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, and all those other foolish places you frequent so often. Use your modern savvy alongside my magical experience and we will find our clue soon, I suspect."
Are you shitting me? Abe frowned, and spoke before his brain could stop him from doing so, "Are you shitting me?"
Mr. Doyle frowned in a sad fashion. "No, my dear Abraham, I am not 'shitting you.' Swallow your disappointment and get to work, my son. You do your part and I will do mine. Run to the Star Market and fetch yourself one of your energy drinks, and perhaps one of those bags of ranch-flavored corn chips you savor so. Bah. American snacks. We are in for a very long stretch, my apprentice." Mr. Doyle got to his feet with a slight creak to his motion. Abe thought he looked a little older today than yesterday.
"Sorry, Mr. Doyle. I just thought that with all that is happening, I'd play a larger role in the magical side of things. I am apprenticing under you to learn, and this seems like a learning opportunity to me. There isn't much else I can learn about the internet."
Mr. Doyle nodded like a grandfather might and adjusted the waistband on his slate gray slacks. "Abraham, this is a new day, filled with new questions and answers even I can't guess. What I can tell you is that your help with the computer and modern media will be far more effective than you helping me to operate a crystal ball that even at the height of magic and in the hands of an experienced wizard was imprecise at best. You wouldn't want me teaching you how to operate a trebuchet when an assault rifle was available, would you?"
Abe had his own frown now. "No, I guess not."
"Then please go get your snacks and load your assault rifle, young man. We're storming the trenches of knowledge tonight, and hopefully, we'll rout the Krauts soon and find out what has sparked this resurgence in magical activity."
And with that, the old British sorcerer walked away.
"Fuck me," Abe murmured under his breath as he stood up and headed to the stairs.
I'm totally getting a six-pack of Red Bull.
Chapter Six
Matty Rindahl
Gosh, it's cold in here today. That's weird.
Matty set down a microtiter plate that was about to be filled with a solution from a pipette. She was in the early steps of a culturing project and the chill in the lab air was causing her hands to tremble slightly. She looked over her shoulder at the white plastic thermostat on the wall. It read: 62° F. The room should've been at 65° F.
So much for my cold-resistant Norwegian heritage. I gotta go call maintenance and see what the deal is here. If the temperature is off even by the slightest, the lab won't function properly.
Matty stood up from her lab stool and sat her microtiter plate down, each tiny well in it still empty. She lifted her plastic facemask off, sat it down on the counter beside the plate, and walked away to the lab's airlock exit door. They worked with nothing dangerous at this facility, but the lab's sanctity and cleanliness was important. Everything done at Fitzgerald Industries was done thoroughly and methodically, and it was a huge part of why they had seen so much growth in a down economy. It also helped that the company's sole owner, Alec Fitzgerald, was strikingly handsome and eloquent enough to be a liked politician. She'd only met him once and had been impressed by his sincerity, good looks, and wit.
Matty left the airlock after discarding her slip-on shoe protectors and leaving her white lab coat behind in a locker. Her black hair was tied back in a ponytail that was just tight enough to give her the onset of a faint headache. She tugged at the hair tie at the back of her head and freed the locks up a bit. Immediately, she felt some of her tension dissipate. Much better. She walked down the sterile hall towards a large open space filled with cubicles. The open office doors of scientist managers surrounded the room. She headed straight to her direct supervisor's office.
Matty winced at the bright sun glowing out the window. She was never a fan of the fiery orb that hung in the sky. Her skin burned in minutes and her life as a shut-in nerd didn't do her eyes any favors when the sun was out. Matty leaned on the doorframe and waited until she got off the phone.
"Hey Alexis, the lab is running about three degrees too cold today. Can you get maintenance on the horn and get them to fix it? My fingers are about to fall off."
Alexis sat behind her desk, the city of Boston a few miles distant out the window. Alexis was a short lady with graying red hair. Matty thought she was pretty, despite her mid-fifties age. She certainly was full of life. Alexis made a sour face and then nodded. "Yeah, sure, Matty. I'll call 'em. You taking lunch soon?"
Whoa, I am hungry.
Matty looked at her watch and saw it was a few minutes shy of noon. "Yeah, I'll probably take off now."
"Did you bring a lunch? I was thinking of ordering delivery from that new Greek place on the corner." Alexis pulled out a large take-out menu from a drawer in her desk.
"I brought a lunch. Sorry. But if you want to eat with me in the break room, I'll be over in a bit. I think I'll check my email and maybe see if there's anything interesting in the news."
"That sounds great," Alexis said as she picked up her phone to call either maintenance or the Greek restaurant. Matty left before finding out which.
The young scientist wandered over to her cubicle. She was still a very new employee at Fitzgerald Industries, and as such, her cube was only sparsely decorated. A few picture frames filled with snapshots of her mother and father were on the desk, and she had the obligatory kitten calendar hanging on the side of her cube. She was waiting for a few weeks to pass before she brought in the stuff that she really wanted to use to decorate: anime action figures, a few posters of her favorite B-grade movie classics, and an action figure of Bub the Zombie from the Romero flick “Day of the Dead”.
It's no wonder I'm single. Max was right to move on after the miscarriage.
Matty sat down and rolled her chair up to her computer. She logged on to the company network and opened a browser window. Her lunchtime ritual was ever the same, even here at her new job. First, she checked her Gmail account. From Norway, her mother had sent her a recipe for a Mexican-style baked dish that her father had loved. Matty deleted the email after replying, 'yum!' Second, she skimmed Facebook. People were breeding and then attempting to get that choice validated by sharing photos of baby bumps and kids acting like kids in public. Then, she went to a local news station to see what was happening in Boston. She'd had a strange need to check the news several times a day since the random Green Line tunnel collapse a few weeks ago. Terrorism scared the crap out of her.
A video on the station's homepage caught her eye. The article was titled, 'Naked vigilante hobo rescues woman from attempted rape.' The freeze frame on the header showed a naked man (genitals blurred, of course), standing in an alley, and he didn't look anything like a hobo. If anything, he looked like a model that had stood in an alley waiting for a picture to be taken for the cover of Men's Health, or a snooty mail order catalogue. He was handsome.
Interesting…
Matty hit play on the video and a pretty female newscaster explained the situation.
"A night out of dancing and fun with friends had a nearly deadly turn of events for a 21-year-old Boston College co-ed. Parents, the following footage is not appropriate for all children. The young lady, whose identity has yet to be released, is seen here on black and white ATM security camera footage. She was accosted by two men when an unknown Samaritan appeared from deeper in the alley and came to her aid. He was wearing no clothing." The news anchor placed heavy, heady emphasis on the last sentence before continuing. With a smile, the news anchor cued the video to play.
"The naked homeless man stepped into the attempted kidnapping, and very quickly made work of one of the men before the other assailant escaped unharmed. As the video plays on, you can see the naked man go so far as to stop the victim from taking revenge on her assailant in a show of tremendous self-control and good will. The victim was unharmed. The attacker who did not leave the scene was transported to Mass General with numerous broken bones in his arm and wrist. Boston police have arraigned the suspect on attempted kidnapping charges, and are currently searching for the other suspect. If you have any details, please call the number on the screen to talk to Detective Henry Spooner who is in charge of the case."
The video ended.
Wow.
Matty rewound the video and played the short moments where the light haired man was visible. He moved faster than she'd ever seen anyone move. Maxwell, her ex-boyfriend, had earned his black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and she thought he was graceful and powerful. Max had nothing on this mysterious naked man. He was masculine, lean, strong, and embodied what Matty imagined to be nearly perfect violence. He used only the force needed to rescue the woman and no more.
Holy shit, I'm horny.
Matty took mental stock of her body and realized she was flush. There was a tiny amount of dampness in her lady parts. She leaned back in her chair and shook her head. What the hell?
Tesser: A Dragon Among Us (A Reemergence Novel) Page 3