"It wasn't much of a spell, just a fear and confusion web. It felt crude, and it burned off quickly." I would've been scared if the sorcerer had managed to place a complex reactive compulsion on the trolls along with the other spells. This was more on par with the power level I'd felt from the previous spells.
"Is that good news or bad news?"
"I hope it's good news." It was about time for good news.
"Do you want to work on the parking lot? I've already had a rookie fix the lights."
"Good. Is everything prepared?" Jones nodded. "Let's go do it." I plucked sheets of runes and drawings off the table.
As we were walking out, he casually mentioned, "I wanted to tell you over lunch but I forgot. Carls took a vacation day. He left written," he wagged his eyebrows, "orders that he wasn't to be disturbed for any reason. Chief Deputy Hammer is taking care of those other pesky details for us."
"Really?" Suppressing snickers, I spit out, "We're in luck."
"Yup, all we have to do is get this done on time."
"Then we need to hurry." I picked up the pace.
One of the benefits of never relying on luck was that when it did grace you with its presence, you were properly thankful. I had a back-up plan in case luck was fickle. Carls being out of contact was perfect, but if we didn't get the timing right it wouldn't matter.
In the parking lot, we spread out the supplies. It wasn't an elegant plan, but it should do the trick. The difficult part of trapping most sorcerers was their intelligence. Somehow they missed the normal bell curve distribution of intellect. They were always on the upper end. My theory was only the smart ones survived summoning and bargaining with an evil spirit without accidentally feeding themselves to the demon. Making bargains with evil critters had a built-in weeding out process; the stupid ones were food.
The real problem with their intelligence was their annoying ability to predict what someone would do to catch them, and they had a sixth sense about traps. You seldom read stories where the evil sorcerer walks into the trap, screaming "No!" as he's contained or killed. Nope. The heroes (why were there so seldom heroines?) were tricked by their own trick, had to fight an epic battle, and wait for the fatal error, before they could capture the bad guy (or girl, there was a surplus of bad girls in fables).
I had a plan, which statistics showed put me in moral peril, and I wanted the bad guy, or guys, to walk right into a trap. At this point, the odds were in favor of me being the stupid person before the real hero shows up. I didn't want to be that girl—you know . . . the dead one.
Chapter Fifteen
Elron
"I want to leave it."
"You can't. I told Michelle you would fix her bathroom." Landa glared up at me.
"I'll tell her I couldn't."
Her eyes narrowed. "That would be a lie, and elves don't lie."
My answer was quiet, serious. "Are you sure I'm lying?"
She squirmed, not wanting to answer. "No."
"Then it isn't a lie."
"But, I'm fairly sure I can bully you in to doing something about the flower. Did you know the flower would grow?"
I blew out a sigh. "No. I've never seen one do that. I want to ask her what she did, and try to culture the darn thing. I'd also like to torment her a bit."
"Fine." She sneered before stalking off, but I knew it was mostly for show. "But don't expect me to defend you!"
"Would never dream of it," I muttered as I retreated to my room, sad that I'd upset her. She was one of the few true friends I still had. Being a hermit for hundreds of years tended to reduce the number of people who considered you a friend, even among the long lived races.
If she'd let me in the bathroom, I'd have been able to work on the flower without Michelle being here, but Michelle didn't want me in her room. Landa told Michelle she'd fix it, but when she hadn't been able to, she'd asked me. Something about the satyr had set the two of them off. No uninvited guests in Michelle's room for any reason. If she wasn't there to invite them, she didn't want them in her room. Landa wasn't budging on that point.
I'd intended it as a gift, a simple gesture of kindness and understanding. Wanting to apologize for needling her at every turn, I'd done the only thing I knew to do: give a simple gift. Something that would show my caring if my words couldn't.
A simple offering had morphed in to a sea of contention. My simple gift shouldn't have taken over her bathroom. It was a cut flower, nothing more. Growing hadn't been anticipated. Sheer arrogance on my part, the belief that everything was predictable after all this time. How wrong I'd been.
I would fix things . . . somehow.
Sliding open a window, I tossed my legs over the wall. The night air embraced me, steadied me. The lodge was the first place to quite the yearning in my soul. For years, I'd felt the need to do more with my life. It was the Call: a force pushing me to find my place in the world. Some elves considered it a dance with death, as the Called often lived a dangerous life. Other elves never found what called them.
Elves who found their calling were people of history. Those who were still alive were honored, the deceased remembered in stories. I was never sure if I admired them or not. It wasn't the easy, peaceful life I'd dreamed of, but it was a life spent on things bigger than myself.
When I first heard the Call, a nagging feeling that I was needed in the world, I tried to ignore the urge. Hoping it would fade, I pretended to be happy, but the longer I clung to my stable life, the more forceful the Call felt. Before long, I knew I had to act. Preparing to join the modern world had given me a measure of relief, as the Call faded when I was on the correct path. Knowing something, or someone, was calling me wasn't as shocking as finding it in the first place I looked.
I'd never pictured my life any way but with my wife. The dreams of our life died with her. With this new dream, I wasn't sure if I was excited or afraid. This had never been my dream, not that anyone dreamed of being called.
The woods whispered, reminding me of the many paths life could take. I was choosing to follow the Call, and it wanted me at the lodge. I wasn't sure what was pulling me to this place; events, people, or both, but I would find out.
I'd talked to an elven hero before. I'd tried to behave like he was normal, like any other elf. At the time, I'd thought he didn't get much of that; later he thanked me. For many years, I'd been proud that I'd refrained from pestering him with questions. Now, I found myself wishing I'd asked questions about how he'd felt when he was called. Did he live differently knowing there was adventure ahead?
Shaking my head, I dismissed the thoughts. I'd taken a long road to recovery, but I was recovered. Wasting the rest of my life wishing for my wife wouldn't bring her back. I needed to let her rest, she was gone. She'd have wanted me to be happy, but I wasn't following the Call for her. I was doing it for me.
In the grove where Michelle prayed, she had invigorated the trees. I would find a way in to her good graces. I wanted to see the side of her that had invigorated these plants. "Keep her safe," I whispered.
Stars twinkled down at me, as mysterious as ever. Trees creaked and moaned in the wind. Sounds of home, of years spent with nature, slowed my troubled thoughts. Hours later, when I lay in bed, it was with the window open, allowing nature's lullaby to sing me to sleep.
Michelle
"Done!" I exclaimed, pushing myself off the pavement. "How are we doing on time?"
Jones twisted the corner of his mouth up. "Eh, not great. This took a bit longer than we'd planned."
"Darn. Can you clean this up while I start on the next project?" We'd trashed the area.
"Sure. It looks worse than it is. I'll catch up with you soon."
"Thanks."
I jogged back to the magic workroom. I still had to write all the runes on blessed wood. I dumped a stack of valuable books on a chair, pulled over the wood, ink, and plans. Luckily, Jones could help me with this, because I'd never have time to finish if I was working on my own. It took us nearly an hour t
o write out the runes on glorified paint stirrers. Silly, but that's what they'd always looked like to me.
Reluctantly, I took a break, gulping down energy-boosting tea and munching down a granola bar. Jones opted for a donut. I may have been a natural, healthy food person, but Jones liked his junk food.
We didn't talk, focusing on the hours ahead. It was going to be hectic. Several little things needed to happen in exactly the right order. We'd planned it out, but plans seldom lasted past the first engagement. I shuddered to think what would happen if we failed.
Jerking my mind away from negative thoughts, I questioned Jones, "How long until the spells need to be up?"
"Not long now, but you have a few minutes before you need to start casting." He bit down on another donut, chocolate-covered this time.
"Are you worried?"
"No." His voice was steady.
"Why not?" I was starting to shake in my boots.
"Because you're more likely to make a mistake, miscalculate, or mess up when you're nervous. Give your nerves the mental equivalent of a Valium. Pretend they can't affect you and that nothing can go wrong. Thinking positive helps." He slurped down a calming tea.
Eyeing my energizing tea, I wasn't sure another was the best idea. This would be my fourth, and it might make me jittery. On the other hand, jittery was better than tired. I took a drink. "Any other sage advice?"
"Yah, don't mess up." He picked up a box before leaving the room.
"Thanks a lot!" I yelled after him, chuckling under my breath.
The laughter made me realize I wasn't as scared anymore. Narzel fart; I hated it when he was right. Still smiling, I picked up a box, following him outside.
Tonight was warmer than expected, for which I was grateful. I didn't want to face the bitter cold while performing complex magic. The cold might amplify the spells, but it wouldn't do me any good.
Jones and I enlisted the help of two other officers to bring out the heavy table holding the map. Another officer cleared the halls and opened the doors. Setting it down under the lights was surreal. I'd been preparing myself for this moment all day, but hadn't thought about what it would be like. The reality of what I was doing hit me. A sorcerer and trolls were coming, and I was on the front line.
"Michelle!"
"Sorry, Jones. What do you need?"
"It's time to start."
"Oh."
It wasn't dark yet, but it would be soon. Ideally, I'd finish casting as the sun set, giving us the maximum time to take care of everything. I didn't want to finish the spell any earlier since trolls turned to stone in sun. We didn't want to be playing hide and seek with stoned trolls; they needed to be gathered up and sent back to the preserve.
I breathed in, out, and in again, steadying myself. For a moment my heart stopped racing, my respiration returned to normal, and I could focus. Before the clarity left, I grabbed the first stick, drew the last part of a symbol, and sent a tingle of magic through it before placing it on the perimeter of the map. Focusing all my attention on the task at hand, I pushed my doubts aside. I repeated the procedure with the second stick, and connected it to the first one.
I continued through the parts of the spell, finishing them, pulsing power through the runes, and weaving them through each other and the map. More slowly than I liked, they became part of the map, changing the spell. Each added section tied new magic to the previous spells. It was slow to build, but two-thirds of the way through, the spell started to brush across my skin, tasting me, telling me what it wanted.
Another witch had once asked me why I was so determined to practice magic when I couldn't get a job with a firm. I'd told her nothing compared to power flowing through you, over you, around you. It was alluring, sensual as it wound through my hair, cuddled with my skin. It wanted me to swirl the power, to tickle it with light and sound, and it sang to me of spells long lost. She'd looked so confused; I had to ask how magic felt to her. Hard work was all she'd said. I'd tucked away my feelings and agreed it was difficult.
Simple spells were light and fun, like a good joke. This spell was as simple as a symphony, and as splendid.
After adding the last runes, I swirled power through the old spells, ensuring they merged with the new spells. The entire castle of spells flexed with the added power, my sign to retreat and hope it worked. Watching the spells bend and move was captivating. One moment they were crawling over each other, looking for structure, and the next they had formed a fortress of magic, seeking targets, calling them home.
Disconnecting myself from all but the faintest touch of the spell was difficult. It felt so good, but I'd never finish the rest of the preparations if I let myself bask in the power. Blinking, I realized it had fallen dark while I'd been casting.
"Jones?"
"Right behind you." He walked around to my left. "How'd it go?"
"Good, really good."
"I can tell, you're glowing."
I thought he was joking until I glanced at my hand. I had to look like a giant firefly. "Narzel fart."
He laughed. "Don't worry about it. It's kinda cute, besides, those boys," He jerked his head to indicate the younger cops, "aren't ever going to forget this power show."
"Power show?" I asked.
Jones nodded. "Everyone could see the energy, the power weaving. And—it clung to you."
I groaned. Half the people here would be terrified of me, the other half enchanted. I much preferred being ignored, but no good deed goes unpunished. "Can we finish up?"
"You wanted the lights gone, and barricades around this pavilion?"
"Yup. I'll take the lights in." I scooped up one, making a hasty retreat.
"Slacker!" He yelled.
I giggled all the way in, stress making me a tad hysterical. On the way back, I detoured to the bathroom, overcome by the nervous need to pee. I returned to see a three-sided box of orange highway barricades protecting the pavilion. They formed a solid looking barrier, but I'd thought they were too heavy to move by hand.
Spying Jones near the map, I dodged cops carrying cinderblocks to get within speaking distance. "How did you get those things here? I thought they weighed a ton."
"We had them around the back. They do when they're filled with water or sand, but these are mostly empty. Two guys can carry them. I had them stacked nearby while you worked."
"Ah, I feel silly. Will they stop the trolls?"
"I doubt it, but it'll look intimidating. I've got them bracing the joints with cinderblocks, but that's all we can do with the materials on hand."
"Michelle, look at this. I think you may need to prepare for the next step," Jones said.
"What?"
He pointed to the map.
I leaned over, seeing the dots had refined to fifteen or so, all of them moving in this direction. Tying the taste of the sorcerer to the spell had helped refine the parameters, letting the spell find the trolls, and anyone tainted by the sorcerer's power. The calling spell should deliver all of them to us.
"The sorcerer has to feel that. We've got to clear this place out." No self-respecting sorcerer would march up to a police station with twenty people outside.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
He herded everyone away, like we'd planned. Watching them leave, I noticed how alone I was in this dark parking lot. Removing most of the lights had been the smart decision, but the empty parking lot was eerie.
Jones and I had discussed this part of the plan in great detail. We didn't have a good way to know when the sorcerer would come. I'd told him the sorcerer would confront me, but I couldn't guarantee it. At first, we thought the sorcerer would follow the trolls, but that was a tame, passive action. After some consideration, I'd decided he'd use the trolls as an army, trying to capture or kill people, including me. With that in mind, we'd altered the plan, and I was praying this worked because I didn't want to be dinner.
The police station was empty, because the trolls would walk in if I summoned them, but the s
orcerer wouldn't. An intelligent sorcerer would do anything to stay away from a building of police, so we'd emptied the building. Sirens had been sounding all over the city for fake emergencies, forming a ring around this area. Using the cameras on the outside of the building, they were going to monitor the fight and come to my rescue. That was the plan anyway.
I stood alone while the minutes ticked by. Wand strapped to my right hip, a few packets of herbs, seeds, and oils in a belt around my waist. I let the breeze wash over me while I gazed at the stars. It was beautiful night; starry, crisp, but not frigid, and with the faint smell of spring. Behind me was a dark, empty brick building. The empty parking lot stretched before me, street lamps illuminating the far end. It was just me and whatever was headed this way.
Chapter Sixteen
Michelle
Something was here. My eyes roamed the ground, trying to find the catalyst for the change. A shadow moved near the lights. Tensing, my hand crept down my leg. The shadow solidified, and a scrawny black cat trotted across the last parking space and out of the lot.
Breathing deeply, I relaxed, releasing the grip on my wand. False alarm, it was nothing but a false alarm.
"Fancy seeing you here."
Jumping, I jerked around to my right. She wasn't as close as her voice sounded, a simple trick. The woman was at the end of the parking lot. I relaxed, but still palmed my wand. She was shadowed, I couldn't see who she was, but I knew that voice. I'd heard it before. "Who were you expecting?"
"Someone . . . powerful," Her voice shivered in the air.
"I'm not?"
"Well, we've met before, and you didn't think anything of me." She slowly moved closer.
I stepped to my left. "Can't see what you don't look for."
"Yes, how silly of you, knowing there was someone with magic around, but not searching for them."
"I think you're a bit misinformed. I only recently learned that I should be looking for a sorceress." If only I could remember where I'd heard that voice.
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