“Excellent.”
Reg followed Sarah out to the front of the house, where she saw Sarah’s black jeep parked on the street. Reg looked around in surprise. Usually, Sarah had a car service when she went out in the evening.
Sarah caught her look. “The drivers were all booked up today. The Games, I suppose. You don’t mind me driving, do you?”
Reg tried to swallow a bray of nervous laughter. She had not prepared herself for Sarah’s madcap driving style. “We could see if Officer Jessup is going. I’m pretty sure she planned to.”
“Well, there’s no need for her to drive out of her way to pick us up. We are perfectly fine getting there are our own. Aren’t we?”
“Yes. Of course.”
Reg didn’t want to insult her. And she couldn’t think of another solution. She assumed that cabs and Uber would have the same problem; they would already be booked up by the tourists. Sarah had a car available. She was capable of driving. They could get there in one piece.
“Reg, you don’t mind, do you?”
“No. Let’s… get on our way.”
She climbed into the passenger seat, buckled her seatbelt, and pulled it tight across her body so she couldn’t move. She held on to the door while at the same time trying to relax her body. They said that a person fared much better if she were completely relaxed during an accident. That was why drunks seemed to survive without a scratch while their victims did not.
Reg should have had several more drinks before leaving the house.
Reg was not a religious person, but she said enough prayers to make up for the rest of the year on the way to the stadium where the Spring Games were being held. They screeched abruptly to a stop when they had to join the slow-moving line to get in. Reg tried to look around all of the cars to see why they were moving so slowly. Maybe they were being held up by a horse and carriage? Or someone arguing with one of the ticket vendors. But she couldn’t see anything.
Eventually, when they made it to the front of the line, Reg saw the protesters.
All kinds of people, young and old and hailing from various magical races, shouted and carried signs, blocking the cars entering the event or gesturing at them to go home. Reg was not going to be bullied, and it didn’t appear that anyone else around her was planning to turn around and go home. Sarah kept the car moving forward at a very slow pace, and Reg looked over the signs.
Magic isn’t a game
Cooperation, not competition
Balance and peace
Equality over equinox
Even though Jessup had said that there would be protesters, Reg hadn’t expected quite so many. Or for them to be calling for peaceful cooperation at the tops of their voices.
“Just ignore them,” Sarah advised. “There are always a few nutcases.”
“You don’t agree with them? About how equinox is supposed to be about cooperation and balance?”
“Of course it is. But that doesn’t mean we can’t showcase our talent. There’s no need to go overboard. Some people are very… rigid. There’s no reason we can’t play games during equinox. We’re not talking about the Colosseum.”
What exactly did that mean? Reg shrugged as if she understood, and watched out the window as they inched forward, making their way through the crowd of angry protesters.
Eventually, they were able to park and a security guard saw them safely in through the stadium doors. Reg looked around for Damon, knowing that he was in charge of security for the event, but she didn’t see him. He was probably off in another building giving instructions and watching a dozen camera feeds for any sign of trouble. She predicted she wouldn’t see him for the entirety of the Spring Games.
Reg and Sarah found their seats and made themselves comfortable. As comfortable as one could be in chairs which were apparently not meant to cradle the human body in any way. Maybe they were designed to keep students awake during lectures. Reg couldn’t think of any other reason they would be so hard and uncomfortable.
Because it had taken them so long to get in, they didn’t have to wait long for the opening ceremonies. Reg looked around at the people in the crowd, trying to spot witches and warlocks she recognized and pick out the tourists or guess what countries various people were from. Or identify what magical races various beings belonged to. She could definitely see fairies and pixies in the crowd. Gnomes near the front, and she thought even some dwarfs, though Sarah had previously said that they would not get so close to the ocean. There were others she wondered about. Was the ill-dressed, slender woman a few rows in front of her fully human, or did her lack of fashion sense give her away as an immortal? Was the large man with the full beard sticking to the shadows just a hipster, or was he part Bigfoot? There were many races Reg hadn’t yet been introduced to and wouldn’t recognize on sight.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” came the announcer’s voice, gratingly loud, overpowering all of the individual conversations going on around the hall. In swooping, dramatic tones, he described the magical games and welcomed everyone. Reg tuned him out when he segued into instructions about waiting until intermissions to get out of their seats for restrooms or snacks. She continued her people-watching.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Reg’s head snapped around to see the man who had just spoken in her ear.
Julian, of course.
Anger welled up in her immediately. Memories her body had of his tormenting her, even though she couldn’t consciously recall what had happened. Whenever she heard his voice or saw his face, she was ready to fight. Or to run. She was furious that he would show up at the Spring Games to harass her again. Why couldn’t she just enjoy herself? Why did he have to keep showing up and wrecking everything?
Julian jerked back as if she had hit him. “Calm down there,” he warned.
“Just leave me alone!”
Sarah turned to see who Reg was talking to. She raised one penciled eyebrow. “Young man. In case you didn’t notice, the Games have begun. It is very rude to be starting a conversation now. Take your seat. Or I will call security to have you forcibly removed.”
Julian snickered at her. “Thanks, Grandma. I’m here in an official capacity. You can’t have me thrown out.”
“You are not authorized to start an investigation here. We are at a public event, for goodness sake. Go back and read your manual.”
“I am authorized to interrogate a suspect wherever I want to.”
“No,” Sarah said flatly. “You are not. Do I need to call your superior and talk to him?”
Julian drew back a step, scowling. “I don’t know who you think you are, but this is a very serious matter. If you interfere with my investigation, things will not go well for you.”
“I was acquainted with Magical Investigations when your predecessors were still speaking Latin. When you were still messing your diapers, I was well-known to the head of MI. So, you can get off of your high horse and leave Reg to enjoy the Spring Games, or I will start making calls. If you want to have your license pulled, you just keep it up.”
Julian’s mouth twisted. Reg was sure he was going to call Sarah more names and challenge her, but then he finally nodded jerkily. “If that’s the way you would like to play this, then that’s just fine. I will add charges of assault against the famous Reg Rawlins,” he nodded toward Reg, “And of hindering an investigation against you…?” He realized he didn’t know Sarah’s name and looked questioning.
“Sarah Bishop,” Sarah said serenely. “You go right ahead, young man. You go right ahead.”
With another angry look, Julian walked away from them.
Reg breathed out slowly, watching him until she could no longer see him. “Good grief. What’s wrong with that guy?”
“You showed great restraint in not lighting him on fire,” Sarah complimented.
Reg snorted. “It was pretty tempting.” She breathed in and out again, trying to convince her body it was okay to unclench and relax. “But now that I know something about how t
o control my fire and my abilities are known, I would probably get in a lot more trouble for it, wouldn’t I?”
Sarah nodded her agreement. She listened to the announcer and pointed out several people on the podium to Reg, both officials and competitors.
“Do you really know people in Magical Investigations, over his head?”
Sarah nodded. “Of course. It’s a small world, smaller when you are talking about the magical community. And I’ve been around for a lot of years. I don’t know what family your young man hails from, but I probably know his parents or grandparents as well. Sometimes a call to a parent can be even more effective than one to a boss.”
“He was in foster care. I don’t know if he has any family.”
“Ah.” Sarah looked sideways at her. “That’s interesting. Does he know who his parents are?”
“I guess so. He said that he grew up in a magical home. He could remember them from before he went into foster care. I was too young to remember much of anything, but he didn’t go into care until he was older. I don’t know what happened, whether his parents died or he was apprehended.”
“They must know something of his family history for him to get into Magical Investigations.”
A few people around them were glaring and shushing them. Reg fell silent, not wanting to get kicked out. Not after all of the preparation and risking life and limb in Sarah’s jeep to get there. She turned her attention back to the field and listened to the speeches about the importance of the games and their long history going all the way back to ancient times. She came away with the impression that the Olympics were just some non-magical spin-off from the Spring Games, a less-prestigious competition for those who didn’t have any powers.
But she was distracted, thinking about Julian and how sooner or later, she was going to have to face him and answer his questions.
Chapter Thirteen
The contestants started to enter the stadium. They entered in small groups, with the announcer calling out what coven or tradition they hailed from. Some of the teams were larger or garnered louder cheers from the audience, a couple of them bringing the audience to their feet with loud clapping and cheers. Reg didn’t know any of the different factions and was completely in the dark about whether she should be cheering for one team over another. Mostly she watched Sarah and followed her lead.
They wore cloaks or capes of varying styles, most of the men in hoods and women in traditional peaked witch hats. Reg watched closely for any of the witches or warlocks that she knew, but it didn’t seem that any locals were present. She supposed that, like Olympic athletes, the witches and wizards probably spent long hours training and didn’t socialize in the same circles as Reg.
Eventually, all the teams had been introduced. “Let the Games begin!” the announcer called out, to thunderous applause, all the spectators again jumping to their feet to clap, holler, stomp their feet, and blow air horns. The noise was tremendous. Reg covered her ears to muffle the sound, smiling and rolling her eyes at Sarah. Sarah clapped and let out a couple of whoops of encouragement.
Eventually, the noise died down as everyone returned to their seats. The air crackled with energy.
“We will begin with the traditional stade.”
Reg looked at Sarah for an explanation. She’d never heard of a stade before.
“One of the oldest games,” Sara contributed, but didn’t explain.
Reg watched, transferring her attention between the field and the big screens in turn. Competitors from various teams shed their cloaks to reveal Spandex athletic wear and took their places at one end of the straight running track. It was a sprint, then. Reg was a little disappointed. She had been expecting something more... magical.
An official called cues in Greek or Latin, some form of “ready, set, go!” At the third call, the competitors shot out of the blocks and, in a pace or two, vanished.
Reg gasped, startled. Only one runner remained, a powerful-looking witch, moving down the track alone. But in a split second, a cheer went up from the crowd and Reg saw the other competitors cross the finish line, bunched close together.
“What happened?” Reg demanded. She blinked and shook her head, trying to come up with an explanation.
Sarah chuckled. “A magical stade is not a foot race. It is a leap through space.” At Reg’s dropped jaw, she explained further. “Teleportation, as the scientists would call it. There are several things that make it very challenging.”
“Besides... teleporting themselves?”
Sarah’s eyes were on the one competitor who had ended up sprinting down the entire track instead of disappearing and reappearing as the others had.
“Besides teleporting,” she agreed. “They do not have the benefit of quiet meditation and focus to prepare themselves for the leap. They must be able to leap on command, running out of the blocks. If they disappear from the blocks, they are disqualified, they must run at least a couple of paces before leaping. Teleporting from a run is very difficult, even for those who are talented. These are world-class leapers.” Sarah nodded to the competitors. “Most practitioners with the gift of teleportation cannot manage it. They also must leap into position before the finish line, in their own lane, and cross the line at a sprint. All of these things are to make it even more challenging. The contestants are the cream of the crop, the very elite.”
Reg nodded, impressed. It didn’t just sound challenging, it sounded downright impossible, even if she were to accept that people could just teleport themselves at will.
“There will be additional heats throughout the games,” Sarah explained. “Opening day is a taste of everything that is to come. A demonstration of each challenge.”
“So was this not a real competition, just... an exhibition game?”
“Oh, no. This counts. But not all the leapers will compete today.”
Reg watched the witch who had not been able to leap as she was received by her team. She hung her head in shame. They slapped her on the back and didn’t make any sign to the cameras that they were disappointed in her or blamed her for her failure. That would come later, Reg supposed. In the change room or back at their accommodations in the evening. Then the witch would be dressed down for her performance.
“The pentathlon!” The announcer boomed over the speakers.
That was track and field, Reg knew. Five different sports like long jump and discus, that ancient Greek Frisbee thing.
What sort of magical spin would they put on the discus?
There were fewer competitors for this one than there were for the stade, which Reg thought made sense. They had to be good at five different things instead of just one.
The pentathlon also began with a teleportation leap. All the competitors performed perfectly, no one failing to leap, and all of them were bunched very closely before the finish line. Reg watched the replay on the big screen several times, listening to the spectators around her arguing over who had crossed the finish line first. The judges studied the video on their equipment and eventually declared the winner to be the Merlin team. There were cheers from around the stadium. Reg heard a couple of boos, but they were quickly drowned out by the applause, and ushers made their way to the culprits, leaning down to speak to them, faces grave. Apparently, booing was not tolerated at the Spring Games.
They proceeded to the long jump. It looked like what Reg had seen in track and field before. A straight track leading to a long sand pit. Jumpers sprinted down the track, then jumped as far as they could across the sand pit. How would the magical version be different? It didn’t make much sense that the jumpers would start sprinting, teleport to the end of the track, and then jump into the pit without any momentum. They wouldn’t be able to jump as far as a non-magical jumper, and they claimed that the Magical Games were better than the Olympic competition.
Reg didn’t ask Sarah to tell her what was going to happen ahead of time. She wanted it to be a surprise.
The first jumper got into position. Reg watched her
sprint all the way down the track and then jump before the sand pit, just like in the normal long jump. But then... instead of a quick jump and landing in the sand, the jumper remained in the air, impossibly suspended on nothing, all the way past the end of the pit, where she landed gracefully with a little finishing move. There was an oooh of appreciation from the audience and a rush of applause.
“That was picture perfect,” Sarah murmured to Reg. “Ten out of ten.”
None of the following jumpers were able to pull off the jump with quite the same grace as Tera le Fey, the first jumper. Most of them were much more like the conventional long jump, managing to hover only a fraction of a second before landing in the sand. The distances were longer than those managed by long jumpers at the Olympic games, but only by a few feet. The points definitely went to le Fey on that one.
Chapter Fourteen
The next events in the Olympic pentathlon are discus and javelin,” Sarah told Reg. “They underwent quite an adaptation from the magical ‘defend’ and ‘attack.’”
“Defend and attack?” Reg’s heart beat a little faster at this, even though she obviously wasn’t the one who was going to have to attack or defend. She thought about the fights that the ancient Romans had. Contestants fighting each other or facing off against wild animals. She hoped that magical attack and defend were not the magical equivalent of blood sports.
“You’ll see. It’s very gripping.”
Reg could see up on the big screen that contestants’ names were being drawn to match opponents at random. These contestants were not in Spandex like the leapers and jumpers, but in heavy cloaks and gear. They looked like gladiators. Tough and battle-hardened.
The first pair stepped into a wide, marked field and faced each other across the expanse. One was assigned as defender and the other as attacker. Reg leaned forward in her seat, drawn into the competition despite herself. It was just a game, after all. There surely wouldn’t be any real violence.
Magic Ain't a Game Page 7
