“You may film here,” said Alastair, taking his seat at the desk. “Some of those other things are… questionable, and I prefer you not have them on film.”
“What?” said Abby, sitting down on the couch with the camera.
“He means they’re stolen,” said Dane.
“I assure you that none are stolen,” said Alastair. “They just have some legality issues based on law enforcement and shipping regulatory committees having rather draconian interpretations of the law. I assure you that none of their owners have entered any sort of theft complaint to the authorities.”
“Because they probably also stole them,” said Dane.
“Monday, have you come to criticize me, or is there another reason for your unannounced visit? Do you have anything for me to purchase?” Alastair was one of the buyers for Dane's magical objects he salvaged on his adventures. Dane was always a little unsure to sell to Alastair, but he hadn't found any other consistent buyers. Where the objects went after Alastair bought them, Dane didn't know. He knew he didn't see them all around Alastair's loft, but so far, none of those objects have shown up with Dane's adversaries either.
“No, I needed a consult on my current investigation,” said Dane. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small statue. He placed it on Alastair’s desk. “I found this at a ritual site.”
Alastair stared at the statue across his desk for a long moment. Then he delicately reached over and picked it up with long thin fingers. “Interesting,” he said, turning it over very slowly, then hefting it for weight. “Tell me about the ritual site you found this in.” Alastair closed his eyes so he can imagine the site by Dane's description.
"A large room in an abandoned building, fresh black writing on the walls. Gold writing in addition to that when I looked through The Goggles," said Dane. "Candles all around the edge of the room. Discarded gray robes. Ashes. When they left, I saw them escorting a figure covered in bandages."
"I see," said Alastair. "And this figurine?"
"In the center of the room, dark ash all around it."
"Do you have any of the writing?" asked Alastair, opening his eyes.
"Unfortunately no," said Dane.
Alastair raised an eyebrow. “No? It’s nearly impossible to determine anything about a ritual without all the elements, and the symbology of a ritual site is the very grammar of what someone was manipulating energies for. You might as well ask for the meaning of the Gettysburg Address without providing any of the actual words from the speech.”
“Any information you could tell us would be helpful,” said Dane.
“I suppose. Were there any other details? Would you be able to go back and transcribe some of the writing for me?”
“Uh, the ritual site is… unavailable. Permanently,” said Dane. “We only had so much time. We can't be sure what we missed. Or what they took with them."
“Of course,” said Alastair, staring at the statue.
“I’m somewhat curious why they didn’t take that with them,” said Dane. “Why leave behind something so easily carried?”
“Agreed,” said Alastair. “Always best to clean up. Unless they needed to leave quickly or were unable to carry it. Some ritual elements are not friendly to human hands for a while after the ritual.”
“Like how?” asked Abby, for the first time joining the conversation.
“Extreme heat, extreme cold, the like,” said Alastair, sweeping his hand dismissively in the air. “If it was the focus for an extreme amount of power, the dissipation of energies would take a while, unless some sort of additional practice was done to force that dissipation. Most magicians are sloppy and lazy, allowing a focus to sit undisturbed and ground out the energies on their own. Then again, some rituals take much out of the caster.”
“So what can you figure out without the writing?” asked Dane.
Alastair gazed at the statue, turning it over in his hand. “I don’t believe it’s in its essence a magical item, like an artifact or something inherently magical. No, I’d say this was something instead used or instilled with power. Though now it will hold a great power for a long time. I’d say it’s a fetish.”
“A fetish? Like a sex thing?” said Abby.
Alastair sighed. “No, not at all like a sex thing. Psychology has truly ruined a large amount of magical language. Fetishes are items instilled with power. It is from this magical definition that psychologists derived the sexual one, changing the connotation of magical influence to sexual influence. The ‘magic’ for psychologists was sexual arousal. Which I honestly blame Freud for.”
"Oh yeah, I remember Freud from the university," she said. "That's not the only thing he's skewed people's minds on."
"Monday, I'm impressed," said Alastair. "You are associating with a much more educated class of people than I expected."
Abby smiled weakly.
“Okay, it’s a fetish, great,” said Dane. “What could they have been using it for?”
“I could do a little delving of my own, but that will take time,” said Alastair. “And resources.”
“Put it on my tab,” said Dane. “So based on what you know right now, what could they have used this for?”
“It could vary,” said Alastair. “Unless there were more of these, I’m pretty sure they had a single person as recipient for what they were doing. Of course, the ritual could be to harm them or help them. The target could have been a sacrifice or the end result. They could be switching energies, destroying, or conjuring. I have little to go on.”
"Wait!" said Abby with excitement. "You said you wanted to see the ritual writing, right?"
"Of course that would be a huge help," said Alastair.
"But the building blew up, Abby," said Dane.
"Oh, so you're related to this most recent New Avalon drama?" said Alastair with amusement.
Dane frowned. "I don't usually expect you to be watching television or keeping up with internet news, Alastair."
"Not usually," said Alastair, "but when you hear a massive boom in your city, you take a few minutes to check local news sources."
"Guys, that doesn't matter, because I have the ritual!" said Abby.
"What do you mean?" said Dane.
"Before you showed up," she said, "I was on the windowsill and filming the ritual! I don't have all of it, but I got some of it through the window. And then when I came inside, I have at least a sweep or two of the room! It may be quick, but it'll be something!"
"I expect that would be immensely helpful," said Alastair.
"Wow, that's great!" said Dane.
"It's on the camera," she said, holding it up. "Do you have a USB cable I could use it to plug it into your computer?"
"U... S... B...?" said Alastair, perplexed, sounding out each letter as if it were a newly found element in some bastard tongue last spoken in age-old Hyperborea.
"He's not a big fan of computers," said Dane. "Let's see, either you can leave the camera here or we could swing by Jaya's and get her to offload it, then come back. Not that I'm a big fan of coming back."
"I might be willing to leave it, if I could get it back quick," said Abby. "You can watch the video on the small display here."
"You're going to give up your camera just like that?" asked Dane. "I thought journalists gave up their cameras from their cold dead hands."
"It's not like anyone will let me film anything!" said Abby. "It's frustrating how little I can film! And it's hard to film stuff when I'm in mortal danger, since I want to be running or fiddling with the jammer which will save our lives!"
"Sounds like a typical day for Dane Monday," said Alastair with a smile.
"Right, I've been a little busy staying alive, trying to keep the camera from actually being taken from my cold dead hands," said Abby. "So if I get this camera back tomorrow, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine."
"Alastair, how long before you know something?" asked Dane.
"It depends, without having seen the footage. I expect to review
the footage immediately, so perhaps as early as tomorrow morning. The figurine is a bigger question. It depends on what it reacts to."
"Reacts to? Do you have a lab here?" asked Abby.
Alastair gave a wan smile. “While scientific analysis is the accepted standard in this culture, it is by no means the only form of reactive analysis. Scientific analysis, and chemical analysis in particular, have their roots in alchemy, which in turn has its root in magic. Should it be so odd that magic itself has its own ways of producing results, hmm?”
"Sure, I guess," said Abby.
“Alright, so you’ll check the camera footage and do your mojo on the statue then give me a call with whatever you find –“ said Dane, suddenly stopping mid-sentence.
There was a shifting of the light near Alastair’s desk. In a swirl of darkness and shadow, a cat appeared, leaping onto Alastair’s desk. It was a black cat, but not just a simple black cat. There was something different about it, almost otherworldly. Its fur was black, but impenetrably black –not a single hair could be discerned. As it turned and scanned Dane and Abby, its eyes glowed for a moment. Abby caught a faint whiff of something. It was what she thought she had smelled that morning, but this was definitely the real thing: brimstone.
The cat casually stalked across the desk with a predatory grace, smoothly climbing onto Alastair’s shoulder. Its small face leaned down to Alastair’s ear and its mouth began moving. Both Dane and Abby swore they heard the sounds of whispering from the cat. Finally the cat finished and Alastair nodded. A moment later, the cat crouched down and quickly snapped its mouth around Alastair’s neck right above his collar. A drop of blood escaped the cat’s mouth and trickled down Alastair's neck. The creature began to purr rapturously as it began swallowing rapidly.
Alastair continued as if nothing strange had happened. “Yes, I’ll see what I can find out. I’ll let you know what I find as soon as I can. And if you find any worthwhile artifacts on this case, I naturally expect right of first refusal.”
Abby was still staring at the cat with her mouth open. Dane had already seen this display before and had simply averted his eyes.
“Yes, of course,” said Dane. “I believe we’ll be going now.”
He stood. Abby remained seated, shocked.
“Abby!” he said, grabbing her arm. She finally shook off her shock and stood with him. Dane put the camera on Alastair's desk and turned to leave. Abby stumbled as Dane led her out of the loft by her arm.
Abby finally regained her voice halfway down the stairs. “What. The. Hell."
“Like I said, one of the reasons I don’t like being around Alastair,” said Dane, sighing as he stared upward toward the fourteenth floor, “is that he practices the dark arts. He communicates with and makes deals with demons, spirits, and other things of darkness. I don’t entirely trust him.”
“Sure,” she said almost not hearing what he said, “but what was that?”
“A familiar,” said Dane.
“It did seem disgustingly familiar with him, but that’s not what I’m asking!”
“No, that’s what they’re called. They’re spirits who bind themselves to a magician and help them do magic. Things like cats, birds, and rodents typically.”
“But what’s with the… uh…” she had trouble saying it. “Y’know, the…”
"The feeding?” said Dane, and Abby nodded silently. “Supposedly demonic familiars require some of the magician’s blood every day to survive. I have no idea if that’s true; I tend to be stopping those sort of things rather than researching them. But in this case it seems like it’s true…”
“We’ve been attacked by robots and nearly blown up twice, but that’s the most disturbing thing I’ve seen all day,” said Abby.
“Really? I mean, I don't like even looking at him when the familiar is feeding, but was that really the worst?”
“I have a cat, Dane!” she said. “What do you think I’m going to be feeling when she comes over and wants to be affectionate tonight?”
“Your cat is affectionate?” he said. “I’ve only had this one cat, but he’s never around –“
“Not the point, Dane! Seriously, I’m all freaked out. And now I’m going to be staring at Precious as if she’s hungering for my blood.”
“You’re fine,” said Dane. “Until she starts talking, practicing magic, or making dark deals with things man is not meant to know about, I think you’re okay.” He paused. “But a few extra treats and petting tonight probably won’t hurt.”
Prometheus
After the experience at Alastair's, they decided to call it a day. Before that meeting, they had already been tired, dirty, and drained from the two explosions and the homicidal robots. But Alastair's familiar was the straw that broke Abby's back. Now her mind was tired too. She just wanted to grab dinner and go home. Dane wished Abby farewell as she hopped on a bus. Neither was willing to get in another cab yet.
Dane decided to head over to Jaya's garage. She was the resident gearhead in Dane's stable of allies. While she technically had a PhD in Engineering, she was as much a down and dirty mechanic as she was an academic. She even repaired cars. But of greater note was that she also dissected robots, pulled apart computers, retrofitted gadgets, and much more. She didn't as much like building and designing as much as pulling things apart, troubleshooting, improving, and repairing them. At least this fact made it less likely she would create her own robot army. Dane tried not to think of how easily some of his allies could easily become the same villains he often fought against.
Dane texted Jaya to let her know he was heading over. He was concerned about the Honnenheim attack. How had the scientist known where to find him? Was Honnenheim tracking then through traffic cameras, or did the professor have some bug or tracker on him? He was hoping that Jaya would be able to do some sort of bug sweep.
The urgency of this tracker sweep increased as Dane walked across town. He had the vague intuition that someone was following him when he left Old Avalon. But that feeling increased as time went on. He knew that if there was actually a tracker on him, he would have already technically been followed, but this felt different. This wasn't an electronic tracker. This was more personal. Dane had been followed before and knew that weird twinge on the back of his neck, like someone's eyes were boring into him. He had learned to trust that feeling. But he couldn't figure out who was following him. It was just after rush hour, so the sidewalks were full of people, the streets full of cars. He thought he recognized a black sedan, but that could have just been baseless paranoia. Black sedans always seem ominous, even if they were common in New Avalon. But knowing that didn't make the sensation of being followed lessen.
Jaya's garage was on the south east side of town in Riverside, so the walk from Old Avalon took him a while. He didn't mind; when he started it, he intended to clear his head and grab some coffee. That changed to trying to pick out his tail (also with coffee), but he had no luck. By the time Dane made it to Riverside, some of the rush hour traffic had thinned, but that didn't help him figure out who was following. Dane had made it within two blocks of Jaya's garage before the inevitable happened.
A black sedan screeched to the curb in front of Dane, causing him to step back. The door flung open and Dane found a gun pointed at him.
“Get in,” snarled the man from the dim interior of the car. Dane recognized him as Kripp, the massive security gentleman from Avalon's Hope.
Dane weighed his options, wondering if he could dive out of the way or grab something from his bag of tricks. But when he peered inside and saw red hair streaked with pink he knew he had to get in.
He slid into the car next to Abby, her hands ziptied together in her lap.
“We have got to stop meeting like this.”
Dane’s hands were quickly ziptied and both he and Abby were blindfolded. The doors were locked and Kripp moved into the front seat with the driver.
"Since you're not robots or wielding plasma cannons, I'm assuming you are
not in league with Professor Honnenheim," said Dane.
"Who?" said a voice he recognized as Kripp.
"Exactly!" said Dane with a laugh. "This is excellent!"
"What? Why would this be excellent?" asked Abby.
"Because it means the investigation is progressing!" said Dane. "They're taking us to their secret lair or hideout or forbidden sanctum or underground complex!"
“Dane, this is serious. We’re blindfolded and our hands are tied,” said Abby in a hushed voice that was still easy for Kripp to hear. “They’re going to take us somewhere and kill us. Haven’t you ever watched police shows?”
“Oh, nonsense!” replied Dane. “This is just how it all works! Blindfolded means they’re not going to kill us! The blindfold is because they don’t want us to know where their secret lair is, right?” said Dane, his last few words louder, pausing for a moment, his blindfolded head turning to listen for a reaction from the front seat, such as an admission. “No? Okay.” He returned to his previous volume. “If they were going to just kill us, they wouldn’t blindfold us. If we’re going to die, who cares if we find out where they’re taking us? Unless their security sucks and they think we might escape. But these guys seem more pro than that. I'm confident that we're going to some secret lair!"
“You may be confident this is all a part of the plan, but you’re not inspiring confidence in me,” said Abby.
"Everything's going to be okay," said Dane. "This is exciting!"
The car reached its destination and they felt it descend down a ramp. They heard a garage door open, then close behind them. The car came to a stop and the men got out. They pulled Dane and Abby out without removing their blindfolds. Dane tripped getting out of the car, falling on cold concrete. With a grunt he was pulled back up by Kripp.
Manic Monday: (Dane Monday 1) Page 10