by Tao Wong
The PMCs were somewhat more interesting. Their leader was tall and angular, his face covered by large aviator sunglasses which did little to hide his antenna or the bulge beneath the back of his coat where his wings hid. His female assistant was wearing a tank top, one leg cocked and giving the fae boys a wide grin, a red cap jauntily pressed over her long, furred ears.
“Hi there,” I said, greeting everyone. Once introductions were complete, the questions started flying. It was nice to be the center of attention, especially over something I had some expertise in. It was a great ego boost, until the fae started asking questions I couldn’t answer.
“No, I don’t know what the eighty-third line does yet.”
“You’re right. That isn’t a bleed-off. On second thought, it’s probably Jamal’s self-reinforcing transformation equation.”
“I don’t know if it could be bypassed. That’d depend on the inner circle which I haven’t studied yet,” I said finally, throwing my hands up in exasperation. I received glares from the fae at my actions, but hell. “Look, we just need you to finish the job. I’ll fix the ritual eventually, but it’s huge!”
“We are asking because we are not able to provide an adequate quote without sufficient information,” the leading fae said, arms crossed. “You say the ritual circle is not dangerous, but you then admit you do not even understand it properly.”
“Just because I don’t understand what the circle is doing in its entirety doesn’t mean I can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not,” I snapped.
“Then are you willing to place your word on this?” the mothman asked, jumping in immediately.
“Yes!” I said, feet tapping with impatience. The moment I uttered my assurance, the tension in the room dissipated. I frowned, looking between the pair of consultant groups before my arm was gently yanked backward, and I was led out by an apologizing initiate.
“What?” I asked her.
“We’ve talked about giving your word!” Alexa said with a hiss.
“And I’ll stand by this,” I said and pointed at the ritual carvings around us. “Those are fine. Can’t say much about the inner ritual, but so long as they avoid it, like I told them to…” I raised my voice at the last bit, making sure the contractors heard it. “We should be fine.”
“Theoretically. As far as you know,” Alexa pointed out.
“That’s all I can offer.”
“And if you’re wrong, your reputation will suffer,” Alexa said.
“If I’m wrong, and this place blows up, a lot more than my reputation is going to be a problem,” I said, shaking my head. “No. I’ll stand by my words. And if I’m wrong, I’ll take the hit. But, on that note, I should be going over those rituals more. Unless you think they need me to hold their hand more?”
Alexa snorted at my words but waved me away. I took off, checking my mental map to verify the last spot I had been at as I extended my senses to encompass the slowly leaking ritual circles. Now that I was in the basement, I could sense the cold, dark mana that escaped was escaping at an even higher rate. I stared down the hallway toward the room that had been locked, my mind turning over the implications. An inadvertent side effect or an attack?
Unfortunately, I had nothing to go on, and so I turned to the external ritual, noting the areas that had been damaged and the increasingly worn areas. The initial damage was minimal, but as time passed, the ritual continued to wear itself down as the broken parts placed greater strain on the rest of the circle. In time, the entire ritual would fail.
Which was fine in itself. As I’d told the contractors, there was no chance of the external ritual blowing up. It was just a giant collector, one that focused and drew mana from the surroundings with some minor glamour and reinforcing glyphs. Part of the trick when we had created our own ritual around the fence had been in creating a one-way porous shield such that mana could still be gathered by this external ritual.
The problem was, once the external ritual failed, it would no longer power the internal, smaller containment ritual, which was the concern. Realistically, I had two choices: fix the external ritual or, failing that, modify the internal one so it did not need an external ritual. Neither was particularly easy.
Which is what brought me here, taking down notes, activating portions of the ritual so I could study the ritual formulas and then move on to the next portion.
Two days later, I stood before the last ritual center in contemplative silence. In my mind’s eye, the ritual formulas danced, equations shifting as I adjusted the formula to patch in my fix. Eventually, I exhaled and pulled my notebook out of my pocket, canceling the latest scribbled section and writing in the new correction. With this, I should be done.
I blinked when I stepped into the sunlight a few minutes later, wincing at the harsh light hurting my eyes. Damn, I’d been down there for too long. Again.
“Are you taking a break?” the abbess asked, appearing by my shoulder like a ghost.
“No. I’m done,” I said, offering her a smile.
“Done?” The excitement in her voice was palatable. “Will you be doing the ritual today?”
“No. There’s a few things we need to collect,” I said. Before she could ask, I pulled my notebook out of my pocket, tore the page off, and handed it to her. “The list of materials I require are here.”
“We’ll get it…” The abbess trailed off as she stared at the list, her jaw working silently at first before her shock finally wore off. “Isn’t this a little excessive?”
“No.”
“But silver dust? Eight pounds of salt, that’s easy enough. Wood shavings from a two-hundred-year-old elm tree, that’s—”
“It’s all necessary,” I said, cutting her off, my face grim. “There are three ways to strengthen and fix your ritual circle. The first is to have me do it using the materials I’ve requested. The second, you hire a full mage, one who has more experience and a much deeper mana pool. They’ll be able to inlay the ritual formulas directly without using as many supporting materials. Or thirdly, you can find whoever put the ritual in place in the first place and have them do it.
“But I doubt the third option is viable because otherwise you’d have already taken it, and considering most mages won’t work for you, the second option might not be possible either. Certainly not in the timeframe you need.”
I watched as her lips pressed firmly together while my tirade continued, but I was tired, grumpy, and fed-up with having information withheld from me while being expected to make miracles happen. Perhaps there were cheaper, easier ways of completing the ritual, but we neither had the time nor did I have the inclination to consider them any longer.
“How long do you need?” I asked.
The abbess glanced at the list again and shook her head after a short while. “I do not know. Much of the material is not rare, but it is not as if we purchase these items regularly.”
“Tomorrow. Or the day after. Any longer than that, and I can’t promise you the inner circle will hold.”
“That soon?” she asked with a hiss.
“Yes.” I might be exaggerating, but I figured overestimating the wear was better than underestimating it.
“We’ll get right on it.”
I nodded to her, offering her a quick wave of my hand. Before I left, I checked in on the contractors—PMC being the eventual winner—in case they had any further questions. They had a few, but thankfully, unlike the mundanes, they had a clear idea of what they should or should not do. If nothing else, they just avoided the areas that were mana infused.
After that, I spent a few minutes and verified the enchantment around the gym still held before I made a couple more pendants for the kids and eventually left. It wasn’t perfect, and I really hoped to clear the issue up sooner rather than later—if nothing else than to let the children make their way back to their beds at night.
It was when I was nearly home that I recalled my appointment with Adom. When I finally made it to the library, I found the f
igure seated at the same table we had first met, a large folder sitting across from him. I frowned, staring at the folder, but fished out the newly withdrawn payment and handed it to the supe. As I scooped up the folder, I paused.
“Is there anything I should know?”
“Of import?” Adom paused, considering. “Much of interest. Little of direct relevance to your concern. I was able to ascertain that the building had seen major renovations in the late seventies, focused on the basement area. It was marked as an extension and introduction of heating, but I understand the plans submitted were more extensive,” Adom said. “However, there are no other significant notes. No burial grounds, no ley lines or previous owners of the demonic nature.”
“Great!” I said with a smile and then hurried out, exhaustion wracking my body. A part of me wondered if paying that thousand dollars, money that was much needed to get exactly zero real information was worth it. Then again, perhaps it was like insurance. You hated paying for it until that one time when it panned out. Though, considering the worst case scenarios involved, I’m leaning towards never getting a payout.
Once I was finally done with delaying, I made my way home to collapse in my bed. Two long days of studying ritual formulas meant that when I did fall asleep, I dreamed of floating spell equations and a tag-team matchup of disgruntled authority figures of Caleb and the abbess taking turns berating me for my lack of talent.
Chapter 16
“No class this morning?” Lily asked, noting how slowly and languidly I was eating my breakfast.
I sipped at my coffee before I finally answered the jinn, trying desperately to banish the last of Hypnos’s dust. Wait. Did Hypnos actually exist in this world? I frowned, tapping the mug of coffee in my hand with one finger. If vampires, werewolves, and the fae existed, why not gods? And if so, how the hell do I keep off their radar.
“Henry?”
“Sorry. Are gods real?” I asked.
“Real enough,” Lily said. “Though they’re less godlike and just beings of incredible power. Some have limits on what they can do. Others are somewhat less constrained but more… remote. The goings-on of earth and its mortals are of little concern.”
“Ah…” I filed the information away before cocking my head to the side. “And no, no class today. I texted Caleb last night. I don’t think I can stand another day of having ritual knowledge stuffed in my brain.”
“So what are your plans for today? I notice Alexa left early.”
“I understand she’s helping with locating the required materials,” I said. “And my plans are to turn into a giant vegetable. I still have to catch up on my reading.” I pointed to the box of books that had yet to be unpacked in the corner, one labeled “unread.”
“Nope,” Lily said, shaking her head. “Can’t do it.”
“What do you mean?” I frowned. “I’m pretty sure I can.”
“Nope. You’ve got a quest,” Lily said and waved her hand.
Feed the Children
Newborn knockers require specialized sustenance. Help a mother feed her children!
“Alexa’s not here…” I said, frowning at the quest information, curious to see what those damn Welsh supernaturals looked like. Certainly I’d been caught out by pop-culture expectations of what the supernaturals should be like more than once.
“Do you need her to hold your hand?” Lily asked, putting her fists on her hips. “Or are you man enough to run a little non-combat quest yourself?”
“One. That’s not going to work on me. Two. I didn’t accept that quest.”
“Mandatory quest. You’re being railroaded,” Lily said with a smirk. When I refused to move my butt, she added a plaintive whine. “Please? I really want to get out of the house.”
“You can always come along. Or hell, leave yourself!”
“But it’s no fun without you. Please?” Lily said, putting her hands together and doing the entire big-eyes thing. Her act broke my brain for a second, the sight of an all-powerful jinn giving me wide eyes like an anime character just a little too strange.
“Enough already,” I said. “I’ll do it, and you can come.”
“Yay!” Lily said with a wide grin. “Now, I’ve got to figure out what to wear.” The next second, the jinn was walking to the bathroom to use the full-length mirror and her abilities to alter her clothing.
I sighed, watching her leave, and kept my thoughts and sudden realization to myself. Better to not let the all-powerful GM of my life know I saw through her naïve act, that her sudden interest in clothing was just a cover for her nervousness about going out. In truth, I was somewhat happy to see her take the initiative. While her agoraphobia had lessened significantly, Lily still did not take advantage of her freedom as much as she could. Sometimes, I wondered if it was because she was afraid it would all be taken away, snatched from her grasp by my death.
“Could have waited till I finished breakfast though,” I muttered and turned back to my toast. Breakfast. Yummm…
Standing by the bus stop, waiting for our conveyance to arrive, I found myself staring at Lily who was seated under the supplied awning, hands clasped in front of her tightly. In her stylish, short leather coat, grey tights, and green blouse, she could have passed for any young worker on her day off.
“So, spriggans,” I said, to break the silence.
“Spriggans. We’ve got to get their newborn food, specifically scapolite, but it can’t just be any, since the purity and rarity makes a difference. It dictates the amount of mana and thus the child’s growth in the beginning,” Lily said. “Which is why you’re here.”
“Because I can see mana,” I said, nodding. “Are we, or are we not going mining?”
Lily snorted, shaking her head. “Of course not. Do you think I’d dress up like this to go mining?” Lily smirked. “We’re going shopping.”
“Shop—” Oh. Right. There were people who actually bought rocks for amusement and health. I mentally smacked myself upside the back of my head though. Just because I used to think buying rocks because it was good energy was wasteful did not make it wrong. These days, well, I couldn’t really discount anything. Being open minded was tiring damn it.
“Midtown Mall, here we go!” Lily said, waving her hand around. I laughed at her sudden exuberance and leaned in, settling down for the long wait. Right. Time to get some baby supernaturals some nice, crunchy rocks to eat.
Hours later when we finally stumbled out of the rock shop clutching our three purchases, each of which glowed with the subtle lines of condensed mana, I noted how Lily’s initial excitement had waned. In fact, if not for her darker complexion, she’d have been unhealthily pale. As it stood, there was a glazed look to her eyes that I did not like. When I guided her to take a seat in the food court without protest, I knew there was something wrong.
“Here,” I said, dropping a giant cup of frozen, mushed fruits in front of her. “Drink up.”
“Thank you,” Lily said, sipping delicately at the drink while her hands wrapped around the cup. I sat beside her, staying silent while waiting for her to get around to speaking to me. “It’s just… This looked fun, you know? On your TV.”
“But it isn’t?” I asked, glancing around the crowd. It was the middle of the week, so the shopping mall was not, by any reasonable standards, crowded. Since this entire mall catered to the more esoteric tastes, including a couple of fortune tellers and a martial arts gym promising to teach you the “real ninjutsu,” it probably was never that busy even on weekends.
“It’s okay, but…” Lily exhaled. “It’s been so long since I have been allowed out, and the world, your world, is so confusing. The clothing, the fashions, the language. Magic lets me understand, to grasp the changes, but it doesn’t make it any less surprising.”
I sipped at my drink as I waited for Lily to continue to talk while she explained what it was that was bothering her. Even if I did have an urge to perhaps offer some suggestions, I squashed it. What could I offer a millennia-old jin
n? What did I know of her experiences, of her world? Sure, she had thousands of years of history to draw upon, but so many of those years she’d spent in her ring.
“It’s just a change,” Lily said, turning her head to look around. “But a good one. Your food, your technology is a marvel. Magic, without mana. Magic for the common people.”
I smiled slightly, following her gaze to review the fast food court. Greek food, burgers, pizza, western Chinese food, burritos, juice smashed up and frozen… and people, people everywhere reading, listening to music, watching shows on their phones and tablets. Magic, in their hands.
“It is kind of amazing, isn’t it? Though I still like my magic better,” I said. Real magic. Except, the more I studied it, the more I realized it too had its own rules, its own restrictions. And once again, I felt a wash of gratitude that I had met Lily. Not just for making me a mage but because of the information she had downloaded to me. Like science, every aspect of the spells was built upon the works of those before. Each spell formula had been refined by hundreds, sometimes thousands of others. At my beck and call were the formulas that master mages had produced, concepts they had refined.
Of course, there was a negative to that. In many cases, I was a monkey with Lego blocks of spell formulas. Given enough time, I could kludge something together, but the blocks weren’t mine, weren’t optimized. Hell, sometimes I didn’t even understand the blocks beyond the barest aspects. If not for the fact that Lily was slowly feeding the simplest works to me as well as my study under Caleb, I really would be no more than a monkey bashing bricks together.
“Aye, magic is amazing,” Lily said and then touched her phone. “But what you’ve done, the stories you’ve created, the technology you’ve created could rival a god’s. I should know. I’ve met more than a few.” I chuckled, and Lily grinned back at me. “Thank you. For letting me out with your wish. I’ll always remember it.”
