First Sight: The Rune Sight Chronicles

by Boyd Craven III

  “Hold it,” I said putting up a hand.

  The figure reached inside the leather jacket and came out with a fistful of gleaming stainless steel. It was a six shooter, probably a Smith and Wesson. Every bad line from every Dirty Harry movie went through my head, and because I was a slap happy, in pain, and mature individual, I had already scanned the futures and was distracting him with my right, dominant hand using my middle finger… and doing a quick draw with my left.

  I dodged to the right and fired the same moment he did. I knew I had no hope of hitting him already, so my intended effect was merely to make him duck, which he did. My move had surprised him as much as it had me, and it worked. He lunged in my direction to avoid the gunfire. I saw Rose poof in and out in a flash of purple smoke, distracting him, as my side hit the ground. I lost sight of him for a moment, then I sprung up with both pistols in hands and started firing, knowing this time my bullets would—

  “Holy shit,” I said as both pistols emptied into the man’s torso.

  Every shot tore into the man, none missing. There was blood spray behind him as some of the slugs penetrated all the way through and, for a moment, he fell down on one knee. My heart was beating a thousand miles an hour and I was thinking about how horribly my cover might be blown, where I could stash a body… and then the reject from a bad movie slumped over.

  I holstered the gun in my left hand and changed the magazine out in the right as I started walking towards him. Fourteen shots, thirteen of which had come as fast as I could pull the trigger. The few people who lived on the road would be calling 911, and I knew who was going to respond. I had to move, and fast. I nudged the helmet when I got up close to it and then flipped the mirror black visor. Cold blue eyes stared into nothing and I rolled the body over, watching it lifelessly.

  I looked at the torn leather, the too-dark blood on it… and then noticed there were no marks on the flesh beneath. I was already re-aiming the pistol when his hand shout out, yanking my leg out from under me by my boots. I went down hard, landing on my back, and the air went out of me. I struggled, feeling like a weight had been dropped on my chest, and then started pawing for the gun. Where was the gun? I’d lost it in the fall, didn’t even know… The crushing pain and loss of air panicked me and I couldn’t even concentrate on my sight to see if there was a future where I found it in time.

  The man pulled the helmet off. I knew it was a man, because I could see his features as soon as he tossed the helmet behind him and reached in his coat, probably for the twin of the gun he had used to try to kill me. Instead, he pulled out a dagger almost as long as my forearm.

  “Why?” I asked, my breath starting to come back to me.

  “Shhh, this will be over in a second.”

  I took a deep breath and started scooting backwards. See, the thing about panic is it robs you of reason. It robs you of critical thinking and, worst of all, it robs you of concentration. Panic is the same thing that makes perfectly normal people go running into traffic to save somebody, despite the obvious dangers to themselves. Panic was how some herd animals are run off the edge of a cliff because they aren’t thinking, they are reacting. Panic had prevented me originally, though not now, from connecting the dots.

  “You’re a life mage?” I asked, still scooting backwards, feeling something hard and flat under my right leg, near my glutes.

  “Very good,” he said, walking closer.

  He was tall and slender. He looked like he was in his fifties or early sixties. Blonde hair, blue eyes and chiseled jawline that reminded me of—

  “You know, Jim Henson is gonna be missing you. Shouldn’t you be on the set of Labyrinth?” I asked, scanning the future and knowing I couldn’t draw, reload and fire the gun on my left side before he killed me.

  “You think I look like David Bowie?” he asked, pausing his advance, a wicked smile on his face.

  His accent was definitely British, and I made a mental note that if I survived this I would never again make fun of the late artist.

  “Slightly,” I said. “You’re Vassago?”

  He flinched as if I had physically slapped him. I’d already seen that in the future and I’d scanned where I asked it, so even his flinch was expected. The ace in the hole I had, was that I had backed up over my reloaded pistol and I leaned to the left and drew it out and fired it, not worried whether it was going to jam or misfire. It didn’t. The hand holding the knife was hit in the wrist and the blade tumbled. He howled in pain and held his hand up to his eyes. I could see the hole closing, healing inhumanly fast. I scrambled to my feet and aimed the gun at his head. Life mages could heal from almost anything, but put a slug in their brain, or cut off their head… there isn’t a way to come back from that, as far as I knew.

  “You impudent, worthless…” his words trailed off as he saw the bore of my .45.

  “I don’t know if you know much about my magic,” I told him softly, “but my gift is one of the rarer types. I can see into the future. Right now, I can tell you that in 987 of the top 1000 futures, any move on your part gets your brain blown out of the back of your skull.”

  “What’s the other thirteen?” he asked, a smug smile on his face.

  I knew what he was thinking; make me rush a shot, he could heal from almost anything else. That was why I decided to shoot him in the dick. The gun went off and he howled and bowled over. His howls of pain were joined and another howl ripped through the air, and then another, and another. A puff of purple smoke and Rose appeared and landed on my shoulder panting; her entire outfit was a rainbow of sparkling lights and glitter.

  “Got the Calvary coming boss,” she said, out of breath, something I didn’t know could happen to the Fae.

  Vassago got up slowly. Hate filled his blue eyes and his teeth were showing between the snarl that was his mouth.

  “Don’t move. I can keep blasting holes in you all day long. Why are you after me?” I asked him.

  “The same reason your family had to be eliminated,” he said and spit, “you saw too much. Even as young as you were.”

  “I don’t remember seeing anything, just my mother running from the Council.” I made ready to fire again as his eyes betrayed the fact he was thinking about lunging for me.

  Over his shoulder, I saw something large, black and furry start charging from a quarter of a mile away. I smiled.

  “Your little traitor called the hounds on me?” Vassago asked, his face amused.

  “Watch who you’re calling a traitor, traitor!” Rose shrieked back.

  “Yes, my pack, and I’m sure the Solaris pack are on their way, along with the Sheriff. And if you hold still long enough, I’ll have Vivian gate in here as well.” I felt around for my cell phone.

  He chuckled and touched one hand over the wrist of the other. I scanned the futures for him coming up with a weapon and nothing triggered as a result. I scanned the future of him attacking me and also came up blank. That was when I saw four great wolves converging on us and heard a siren start up in the distance. I grinned wolfishly, knowing that the end had to be near, and loving the puns I came up with during near death experiences. I didn’t even need to check it because I could see the werewolves coming towards us with everything they had. Then a flash of light blinded me for a moment and Vassago was gone.

  “He used a gate charm, follow him!” Rose screamed.

  “I don’t know where he went!” I yelled back, rushing over, but finding the gate already closed behind him.

  “You can’t… I mean—”

  “I know!” I screamed.

  I could use my magic to trigger magical artifacts, and my gate charms were one of them. One thing I could not do though, was just gate like other mages could. Most elemental mages like earth, air, water, fire, ice… they can all gate almost at will, to anywhere. Other mages need to have a cheat, like me. I can gate to other areas, but only after someone has made me a gate charm. Sure, I supplied the power, but I lacked the magical oomph to actually give it direction. That
was why I couldn’t just open the gate and follow him. He was just as limited in gate magic as I was.

  Rose realized the same and went silent as four large wolves slid to a stop near me. JJ was the first to shift to human form and then three others did as well. Carl, Yolanda and her brother. All but JJ were nude; covered in dirt, but nude. I tried not to check out Yolanda, but JJ didn’t hold back. Carl growled at him in human form and JJ backed up a step in my direction.

  “What is it?” Carl asked quickly, looking at JJ who’d at least retained his shorts when he’d shifted back to human.

  “Life mage, assassin,” I said, the adrenaline starting to kick in hard.

  The siren was getting louder.

  “You guys need to go; the cops are going to be here soon,” I said.

  “You need to deal with your pack, fast.” Yolanda said, and the three of them changed and went bounding up the hill.

  JJ and I watched them for a moment as a Sheriff’s cruiser pulled to a stop. I felt Rose hold onto the back of my collar and the gentle breeze of her hovering nearby, but knew she’d be invisible. JJ was looking around, shamefaced, as a red-faced Cindy got out of her cruiser. She saw the Jeep and then took off at a dead run up the hill, screaming my name.

  I looked at JJ, then loped downhill. I met her halfway, both of us breathing hard.

  “What the…? You’re hurt. I need you to sit down,” she said.

  “I’m ok, tis only a scratch,” I said but I sat, as my legs were starting to feel like jelly.

  JJ came up by my side, and he took my right hand. I was about to protest but realized I’d still been holding the compact .45 and he’d deftly taken it out of my grip, with Cindy obviously missing that movement.

  “I saw the deer in the road. There were plastic parts and I was looking down the mountain thinking somebody had gone over the edge when I saw the shattered wood here,” she said, using both hands to press against my temple.

  “I take it I’m banged up?” I asked her.

  “Banged up. What… was that you were shooting?” she asked.

  “Tried to put down a deer I hit,” I lied.

  “You emptied a full mag.”

  I didn’t bother telling her it was more than two. I’d just keep that secret. Since I said nothing, she pulled out a radio from her hip and called to check whether there was an ambulance in the area. Dispatch told her that they’d already had one rolling in from the general store near the RV park off the highway. ETA 7 minutes and now they had an exact area to go to. I sat and leaned back into Cindy, my vision spinning a little bit. She formed a V with her legs and held me upright. We were both looking downhill and I felt the heat of her body. Despite the pain, it felt good, her warmth.

  I was dizzied now, slightly nauseous. I knew what that meant. Now that the adrenaline dump was over, every bump, bruise, scratch and contusion screamed for attention. I sneezed and blew a snot flecked bloody mess out. Great, that was the other spot I’d hurt. My nose might be broken after all.

  “I’m going to check on the Jeep and get it off that stump,” JJ said. “Keys still in it, Uncle?”

  I almost grinned. “Yeah.”

  “JJ, do you ever wear any clothes?” Cindy asked.

  “No ma’am. I’m a gift to women all over the globe. Why would you want me to cover all of this up?”

  I didn’t see whatever motion he made, but Cindy snickered and I could feel her moving again, her hair hitting the back of my neck.

  “Ambulance will be here soon. You’ve got a cut on your left temple.”

  From the broken glass and the bullet that had almost splattered my brain.

  “…and it looks like you hit your nose on your steering wheel.”

  Every inch of my body felt like I had hit a deer, hit a fence, hit a tree. I heard heavy grunting and turned to see the Jeep shift and then JJ hopped in before it could start rolling. He fired it up, the muffled engine rumbling. I tried to watch it back down the hillside, but I couldn’t. My head hurt too much. I was glad Cindy was more concerned with me and hadn’t seen JJ lift the bumper of the Jeep off the stump it had become lodged on top of.

  “I can’t believe it’s only dented up a little bit around the grille,” Cindy said as it came to a stop next to us.

  “Tis only a flesh wound,” I told her, grinning stupidly.

  I knew she couldn’t see my expression, but I felt her holding back a laugh.

  “God, you’re probably concussed too.”

  “Probably,” I told her in a serious tone. “Flash me, let me tell you how many boobs I see.”

  “Knowing the perv you are, you probably hope you are concussed and seeing double.”

  “Triple,” I told her.

  “Alrighty then… he can’t be that hurt, cuz old people be flirting and talking about sex. Can I go now?” JJ asked from the driver’s side of the Jeep.

  “You can’t, I still need you to make a statement… oh damn. Go ahead. It’s not like I don’t know where you live. I’ll bring him back later on.”

  JJ fired up the Jeep. “Ok, call me in a little bit Uncle Tom, I can pick you up from the doc’s if she can’t give you a lift back.”

  I waved at him and watched as he rolled down the hillside slowly. Cindy had let him go too quickly. I wonder if she’d noticed his lack of injuries. Had she assumed he’d been with me when the accident had happened? Up the hillside? I would have to think about that when the time came. As it was, I saw JJ pause and then point uphill. The flashing lights of the cruiser were joined by those of an EMT crew’s ambulance. I slowly pushed myself to my feet and stood there, making sure the dizziness didn’t get any worse.

  “You sure you don’t want to check me for seeing double?” I asked her, grinning stupidly at the ground and trying not to pass out.

  “Naw,” she whispered, “I’m waiting till I can get you cuffed.”

  “What?!”

  She laughed, and even though it hurt my head, I laughed with her.

  Chapter Eleven

  A few stitches, a full day and another overnight at the hospital in Salt Lake City left me feeling vulnerable. I couldn’t call JJ to come pick me up, because in the accident, I’d lost my phone, probably in the seat or on the hillside. I couldn’t even lie and tell Cindy that I’d been discharged and then gate back to the bunker, so I waited to see if she’d call.

  “Mr. Wright,” a doctor came in, an intern trailing behind him.

  “Hey doc,” I said sitting up, wincing at the belt of pain around my temples.

  “No fast movements for another day or two. No jumping on trampolines, no more playing bumper cars. Your concussion was a pretty mild one, so after observation, I think you’re good to go.”

  “Thanks,” I said, already pulling for the blankets that covered my legs.

  “I can have Doctor Habib here assist you in dressing if you’re ready to go now, or we can have a nurse come back if you’d like to shower first?”

  “I’ll get dressed,” I told him, “I should be good.”

  The doc nodded and Dr. Habib the intern handed me a clipboard with papers. Discharge papers.

  “Hey, the Sheriff was gonna give me a lift home. If she shows up and I’m not here, tell her I’m going to wait for her in the lobby.”

  “Will do, I’ll leave a note,” the doc said. “You got real lucky, from what I heard. Don’t press your luck like that again, son.”

  I almost chuckled out loud. Sometimes the mundanes’ idea of age and time was funny.

  They nodded and left, and I started getting dressed slowly. The pain was bad, but not horrible. It just made me stiff, and move slower than I’d like. I also knew that I was going to be defenseless till Cindy arrived, because I’d had to give her one of my guns and spare magazines before being admitted. Hopefully, they were locked in her trunk still. Vivian had once told me that they had been after the assassin for almost a hundred years. He looked to be in his fifties, but in reality, he could have been three hundred and fifty for all we knew.
>
  See, most mages don’t die of natural causes and I didn’t actually know what their lifespan was. It was far greater than most humans, though. The first twenty years of life, a mage ages normally, but it comes to a crawl or an almost standstill after that. I looked like I could be mid-twenties to mid-thirties, depending on the girl you asked and how much she’d had to drink, yet I was nearly three times that in actual years. Vassago had to be… old.

  I felt the beginnings of an idea, but I winced in pain again as I buckled my belt. I was reaching for my shirt when the door opened and I smelled the floral scent before I saw her. It wasn’t Cindy who entered, but Vivian. She was dressed in her secret agent get-up again, her skirt suit a dark blue this time instead of a plain black one. Her hair was pulled up into a bun and she carried a small purse over her shoulder. Presumably to carry her ID, because her suit was too tight to conceal much else.

  “Dammit, Tom,” Vivian said, walking over to me, the door swinging shut behind her.

  I didn’t say anything, but watched as the woman looked me over, furious. I couldn’t tell if I was the cause of her ire, but I knew if I said the wrong thing, I was going to be. That was a fact. When a young, beautiful woman is angry, best to stay out of the way or else you become a target. Instead, I wondered where Rose had ended up and why she hadn’t stuck around. I’d lost track of her when JJ had took off with the Jeep. Vivian was firm, but gentle, as she moved my chin, examining the bumps, bruises and the stitches. I tried not to flinch and scanned the futures to try to figure out what she was doing.

  “How bad are you hurt?” she asked me.

  “Concussion, stitches, they set my nose.” I started to pull on my shirt.

  “These stitches will have to come out,” she said, and pulled a leather pouch out of her purse.