Tesla's Revenge

by Renee Sebastian

  I touched his hand to stop him, “Too bright. It might draw unwanted attention. Let me try something else instead.”

  I was not without some magical resources, so I used my Hedgewitch abilities. While I was not the strongest witch I had ever known, I did have finesse. I removed my gloves and touched the ground. I sent my awareness out into the grass and weed roots. I could always find the herb I was looking for, if it could be found within a certain radius. One root could stretch for hundreds of feet out in a fine spider web of networks. I found three types of fungus roots, which were very weak, but felt more awake than others seemed in the nighttime, like grass. I by-passed those.

  Then I found it, under the trunk of a fallen tree, hidden by a cascade of vines and leaves. I walked over to the likely suspect. I cleared the stickers and vines and then I broke off the branches that held the foxfire, otherwise known as Honey mushrooms. I then bundled them with some tall reeds. Then I handed over a bundle to Dorian while I took a second bouquet for myself.

  I saw his face light up with the turquoise bioluminescence. His smile beheld the uncensored delight of a small child as he gazed into its glow. He said, “I didn't know this even existed anymore.” Obviously, he spent most of his time in the city. Then he looked up at me and I nearly gasped as I felt my heart stutter in fear. In this light, he looked very much of the noble Fae under a glamour. I took a deep steadying breath to make the anxiety attack subside. He was not some Autumn Lord come to gobble me up alive.

  He tilted and leaned his head slightly closer to mine to peer intensely at me. I panicked and said, “I have something else to show you.” I then took out the gadgets Bea created from my pockets to show him. I also told him about her tinker shop.

  “Her appearance belies her talent. These are most ingenious. I especially like the snapshot bot. Most useful in espionage situations, to be sure. I wonder if she might sell me some, if she is in such dire need of tax money.”

  “Wouldn't hurt to ask.” Although, I doubted it very much.

  “We must decide our fate with Tesla, Miss Darling. Let's discuss these things in the cave, in case that pesky Necromancer is about.” He then tried to take my hand, but I valiantly slipped it behind me.

  He said, “What is wrong, Miss Darling? I won't bite. Promise.” He held his hand out to me patiently, while I studiously avoided it. “Come now, take my hand, we can't have you losing your footing on the rocks, of course.”

  I felt my heart race again and the blood drained from my face. I had taken his hand before, but this time felt different. I schooled my features and I replied, “Seems to me that we each need a hand to keep our balance as we traverse across uneven rock, since our other will be holding our light.”

  “Nonsense,” he reached out further, “Now take my hand.”

  I waited too long. The pause became awkward, but still his hand hovered before me. What could it hurt? I placed my hand in his and his face lit up. He said, “You're more skittish than a gazelle that has scented a lioness in its territory. Really, it was merely a helping hand.” His hand again felt warm and dry in my uncovered one, since I hadn't replaced my gloves since dinner. It would have been most impolite to eat with my gloves on.

  He then led me into the cave at a steep decline. I asked, “How did you know about this place?”

  “I have keen eyesight, remember. It would appear that this place is not so secret, though, since it was easy enough to clear the brush from its opening. It isn't quite chill enough for any animals to be making their winter homes yet, so we should be safe. How did you know about the Fairy fire?” Of course, he would call it by that name. I preferred to call it foxfire, myself.

  I replied, “I'd be a mighty poor Hedgewitch if I couldn't sense or find some foxfire when I needed it.”

  We must have walked about twenty meters into the passage when I finally did lose my footing. Dorian twisted me into him and we both went down. I knew it was a bad idea to be latched together. Why had I not insisted otherwise? Somehow, I landed on Dorian's lap and he held me from falling to the ground and bumping my head. His arms were stronger than they appeared to be as they gripped me against him.

  While I was falling, my foxfire fell in a spray across the floor when the tip of my stick struck the ground, revealing the most interesting of things. I think I spotted some discarded liquor bottles and more disconcertingly, a few bones appeared to be littered about in disarray. Of course, it would have been more disturbing if they had been arranged in some sort of a ritualistic fashion. One must be thankful for small favors.

  I panicked and struggled to get my bearings again. He said close to my ear, “Shhh, hush, wait. Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. You're like a wild Philly that needs to be...”

  He didn't finish because I took the part of my branch that I was still gripping, albeit with only a few mushrooms left upon it, and whacked him over the head with it. What was left of the mushrooms exploded around us. He pushed me off his lap and exclaimed, “Bloody hell, why did you do that? You're almost three hundred years old, but you act like a …”

  I stood up and paced back and forth, refusing to look at him. I thought we were here to discuss Tesla. In truth, I was not afraid of Dorian, but I was afraid of the the big IF. What if he were to become anything more than a colleague? Peter wouldn't stand for me having any significant human friends. At best, they would become liabilities, and at worst, targets.

  I finally spewed, “Broken! You want me trained and broken! Well let me tell you something, Dorian Grey. I've seen women broken. The Fae Lords do it all the time to human women. Bend their wills until it becomes their own! I will never be broken by the likes of Peter, the Fae, and especially not by the likes of you!”

  I continued pacing back and forth, trying to work off some of my nervous, angry energy. I dropped the offending stick and gripped the butt of the handles of my pistols, instead. Immediately, my blood pressure began to come down, but I kept my anger close to the surface.

  Dorian finally exclaims, “Oh! I see how it is now. Peter traffics in people for the Fae's amusement.”

  I was not allowed to tell anyone that. I was especially not allowed to tell anyone that Peter was not even a Fairy, even though he lived in the Fairy territories as an honored guest. Peter sealed that secret years ago with one of his tongue-tied elixirs. However, I did not tell Dorian that. He had guessed at it.

  Loopholes existed in all spells and now I was free to tell Dorian, “So, you must see now, that it is hopeless. He brings them over as children, since it's easier that way. What a grand adventure they all think it is. They eat their Neverland food, play with the Gnomes, drink their brandied wine, and sign their own death warrants by becoming trapped in Neverland, like an Elysian field nightmare.

  “Eventually, and it is always just a matter of time, before a Lord or Lady buys them and then ensnares them with a glamour. Then it's all over for them. I've seen it time and time again. They even make them like it... at first. I see the unadulterated lust in their eyes for the Fae. The fancy Lords and Ladies make them want them. How pathetic.”

  Dorian's face took on a wolfish grin and asked, “But they can't make you like them, can they?”

  “Mostly, Peter just keeps me hidden. But every once in a while, one of the Fairies comes to snoop around. They find one of the few like me who keep watch over the children until they are of age. You see, we take turns, two at a time, part-time governesses if you like. It's too difficult to take adult men and women to Neverland, you see. They've heard all the rumors and won't drink or eat the food. Even if you could get an adult, it’s bad all the way around for them. Their minds break quicker than the children do. No, it’s best for Peter to bring the children to raise, until they reach adulthood, and then off they go to the Fae court.

  “Can you imagine what kind of a trophy I would be? I would be the ultimate in human companions, an immortal challenge without the glamour to make me like what they do to me. When one of us governesses is cornered by one of them, Peter
is challenged and then he has to kill the Fae. If he can't do that, then he does a pity kill on the girl. I don't like hearing that one of my friends got offed just because she was lusted after by some fancy Lord. And, I'll tell you this, if it weren't for Peter being on his own given piece of land, he would have been deader than a coffin nail ten times over for these Fairy murders.

  “Fortunately, I'm very good at staying hidden. If Peter weren't the only one able to bring the children across, I think they would have assassinated him a long time ago, themselves.” Sometimes, in moments of weakness, I saw the same look of desolation and desperation across Peters features that I see in the faces of the humans that have been the Fae's pets for far too long. Sometimes, I can even see it in mine. He is just as trapped as he has made all of us.

  I could feel Dorian's stare heavy on me. I stopped and returned it. He seemed to be weighing something in the air. He finally said, “Well, that is the most I think I have heard pass your lips on this entire trip.

  “Wendy, I regret to inform you that there is one magical ability that I did not share with you earlier. I've never told anyone this, including my parents and the Agora, although they had an old Finger Reader who eventually ferreted it out of me.”

  A Finger Reader was someone, who when shoved a finger up your nose, was able to release a dendrite of sorts from its tip and then could connect that nerve tendril into your brain and read all your history and thoughts. The only thing a Finger Reader could not do was read your feelings. As for the reasons why they could not, that was left up for theoretical debate. Finger Readers were mostly hired in court cases, where the truth balanced the life or death of the person in question.

  “I think you deserve to hear of my last special ability. The one that I keep very close to myself, that no one else would have ever found out if not for that creepy, blind man.” He seemed to shudder, and then said, “I have the ability to be a Lodestone.”

  He let it hang in the air. Being a Lodestone was not talked about in polite circles. Lodestones were coveted by other magicians, much like familiars were. It didn't matter if they had magic in their own right. However, if they did, it was better, since it was just another well of magic to be used by the controlling magician. Hardly anyone remembered that being a Lodestone worked both ways. He could also hold another user's magic and use it as well. It made them dangerous to the whole user community. Was Dorian being used by another User? It was so easy to become someone's puppet these days.

  “No,” he replied in response to my unasked question. “I am not anyone's man but my own. It was part of my provisional application to the Agora. They routinely scan applicants, but I made sure to sign a contract with them prior to the delving. It stated that services I provided were to be only of my own free will. Forcibly binding me to another User would have rendered my agreement null and void. They could have forced me, but that is not how the Agora works. Honor above duty is one of the mantras and most surprisingly, they have stuck to it.”

  “How did you find out, that you were that... way?” I hated that it sounded like an affliction, but I'm sure if people had known about this ability he would have been a pariah in polite society.

  “When I was a young boy, too young for boarding school, I was enamored of our house cat. I would always focus on it, trying to get it to like me any time I managed to pet it. More often than not, it would scratch me, but every day I wished very hard for it, thinking maybe I could connect with telepathy to it. By the way, that power totally eludes me today, but I was young and full of hope then.

  “One day, an associate of my father came to the house for a business call and the man stooped to pick up the cat and was literally magicked to death. It caused his heart to stop. Later we learned that he was in the midst of a shady deal with my father. He was committing insider trading with another associate against my father's business. I don't know if the cat was able to pick up on the malicious intent, or if the cat just didn't want to be picked up or petted by anyone other than myself at this point or not. Who even knew an animal could be a vassal for my magic?

  “Regardless, an inquest was made. It was ruled that he died officially by a heart attack, most especially when all his nasty business dealings came to light. No one wanted to investigate any further, chucking it up to karma or the like. My father, who was masterful in his crafts, magic, and business, decided it was time to pack me up and send me to school.

  “He did not have the knack of being a family man. I didn’t even have a motherly presence in my life as a buffer. I had to give him credit, however, he may have been suspicious of my abilities, but he never asked me about the incident. At the time, I just figured it was just another strange twist of fate for me.”

  Understanding clicked into my consciousness, when I asked, “You never made a deal with a devil then, that's how you created your portrait! You loaded a whole bunch of magic into the paints didn't you?”

  “Not much is really known about what Lodestones can and cannot do, since there are so few of us around. So I took a chance that if a cat could hold my magic, then perhaps an inanimate object could, as well. Of course, this was before I learned it was commonplace in Asia. It took me two years to get enough magic to charge the paints to do what I desired of them. I gathered and saved every day. Now I only have to do touch ups on the canvas to cover up the wear of age and tear of battles on the canvas. If the canvas is destroyed, I fear that I truly would perish with it, since I have outlived my natural age. In contrast, I feel that if you stop taking your magical Fairy drought, you would simply start to age again. You probably wouldn't die until you reached a naturally old age.

  “Now that you know my secret, I can't have you sharing it. I would like to ask for your word, no magical seals, on not speaking of this matter with anyone but myself ever again?”

  “Before I agree to anything, what about the Tesla situation?”

  “What about it? Blowing up the dam would hurt the government considerably.”

  “But it would also hurt people like Bea.”

  “Bea's going to climb a tree remember? She said herself that there is no one but her for miles around, unless you count the taxman that is sniffin' about. In fact, I'd wager she is packing up most of her tinkering supplies to take with her up into the trees right now. I'm sure that the conversation Tesla had with Stefan, had everything to do with an early warning for them rather than any comfort it saved for us spending the night there. Her son will be safe enough from the floodwaters with us.

  “I say, let Tesla have his day, ‘Radical change can only be created by radicals,’ according to Klausman. This country is in a dire need of a change. I have it on good authority that if insurrection does not happen soon, the Republic will find itself back in an Intercontinental War. Nobody wants that.

  “What I can tell you for sure Wendy, is that I am a full-fledged Agora member, and I am prepared to offer shelter and assistance to you, on the basis of a provisional membership, of course.”

  “But, I am a girl.”

  “Our chapter is based on the Greek Agora, which not only admits women into its fold, but has had several women directors. Our current Chapter President is a woman in fact. You would not be alone in our Agora, but you may be the only immortal woman. The chapter head would be most pleased, if I could recruit you, of that you can be sure.”

  I looked down at the torn bits of mushrooms strewn across the floor of the cave, creating eerie reflections on the wet floor. I considered my options. I based my next decision due to the combination of the facts, not withstanding that S.O.A.R. lied to me all these years, evil Necromancers were trying to kill me, and Lovecraft was trying to open the gates to some nether world so our world might be populated with demons. I figured I needed a little help if I were going to get through this. If he thought the Agora could help me with Peter, then he was sadly mistaken. No one could save me from him. Bullocks, what was my decision going to be?

  “I would like a night to think it over, before I join anothe
r Society.” I then said, “Dorian, you have the word of Gwendolyn Moira Angela Darling, to never speak of your special ability to any living person other than you.” I was somewhat surprised that he would accept the word of a veritable stranger, but then I remembered how we immortals can get caught in the wheels of time. Being honor bound was a quaint and antiquated custom, but one that seemed to work for us. Besides, he probably guessed at my enraged attitude at being spellbound concerning Peter’s true occupation.

  I said, “I now want a moment to talk to you about the Necromancer tailing us. He could strike at any time. The boy's creatures should hold a few of his children back, but we still have to deal with him.

  “I don't have any practical experience dealing with Necromancers. That usually fell under the responsibility of an upper management position within S.O.A.R. I'm only for difficult and highly placed wet works. I can handle their creations, but do you know their weaknesses?”

  “Wendy, honestly, I have only met one before, myself. It was during a spell of time I spent in the West Indies. He was recommended to me when I was having a spot of trouble locating an operative. We got on quite splendidly. He was a most excellent Tomb Talker also. He not only escorted me to the correct cemetery, but also raised the man's shade for me, verifying that he had died there in the midst of a self-inflicted drug overdose. Oh, how I have wished that opium was never discovered. The dens never did me any good.”

  We heard a loud crack pop in the distance and we both sprinted out of the cave. Someone just shot at something. I only hoped that if it involved the Necromancer, that it was Bea that was doing the shooting and that her aim was as good as her bots.

  Chapter 14

  Niagara and Bullets

  “Trust has to be proven daily, not garnered in your pocket.”

  -Gus, A man I met in a pub in Ireland, 1889.

  From Dorian's Journal of Memorable Quotes to Live By