“I guess my childhood was pretty normal,” he said “or at least I used to think it was. I hated high school—didn’t fit into any of the cliques. I liked college though. Took a job at the computer lab and used their supercomputers at night to try out my own software. Nothing too exotic, just some search algorithms.”
Merrick hesitated.
“You used to think your childhood was normal?” she asked.
He looked down into his empty whisky glass.
“My father told me I was adopted just before he died a few weeks ago.”
She nodded, leaned forward, and touched his arm.
“I’m sorry about your father…or your adoptive father, I mean. I wish there was some way I could help take your mind off of things.”
She brushed her leg against his knee. Despite a lifetime of self-deprecation, he was convincing himself that he had a chance with her. He was drunk, but she looked like she was having a good time, really enjoying being with him.
An image of Mona begging him to share with her appeared in his mind. He tried to stuff it back down, but there it was. He took another sip of whiskey.
The blonde woman’s laughter faded into the background as he thought about Mona. She had told him to go—to leave her alone. The venom in her eyes had been obvious. At the same time, he felt guilty about leaving her in the hospital. She’d never forgive him for leaving her alone, even though it was her idea in the first place. Life was so complicated with Mona, and it was so easy with this new woman.
A cold blast of air swept through the bar. Merrick shivered and turned toward its source. His vision blurred, and he almost slid off his barstool. The people in the crowd were stretched like they were in a fun house mirror. He felt sick in his stomach. Through the chaos, he could just discern the fuzzy image of an old man with long gray hair standing in front of him. He heard far away words in the blonde woman’s voice—something about getting home to see the kids. Was the old man her husband? Black static crackled at the edges of his field of vision. He should have known it was too good to be real. The woman was married, and he was about to get leveled for the second time that night, this time by an angry husband.
Someone grabbed hold of his arm and forced him to stand up. Merrick winced, waiting for the first blow, but it never came. He looked up trying to figure out what was going on. His stomach tightened, and his throat burned as he vomited. An invisible hand pulled at him. Now he was outside, cold. The wind stung his face, slapping him with near-frozen droplets of water. The pain felt good. At least he could still feel something. He shivered, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The side of his face slid against the cool soft leather of a car seat. His insides vibrated as an engine roared to life. He thought he was going to be sick again. His blurry world spun around one last time before he surrendered to the warm safety of unconsciousness and fell asleep.
#
Officer Diggs liked watching the reality-based police shows on television—even though they were as far away from her reality as she could imagine. She spent most of her time filling out paperwork or sitting in stale unmarked cars like the one she and Bob were in now. They’d been watching Mona Whittle’s bedroom light for three hours, waiting for Merrick to show up.
Diggs was convinced that Merrick was the key to understanding what had really happened in the alley, and she knew that Mona was holding something back—either about his current location or his role in the evening’s events. Separately, everything made sense, but together there were too many interconnections to be coincidental. Her job was to connect the dots and to see whether the pieces added up, or were even part of the same puzzle.
Diggs sipped her coffee and sunk down in the car seat.
The coroner confirmed that the first mugger, Bobby Marks, died from a large surge of electricity, but no one on the streets remembered any direct lightning strikes.
The second mugger, Larry Sullivan, got himself flattened by a car, but the partial tread mark taken off of what was left of his face didn’t match the dead grandma’s car. The old lady had run into Larry, but someone else had finished him off and hadn’t stuck around for questioning.
Then there was Mona Whittle. Diggs had never seen anyone recover so quickly from being in a coma. She didn’t even ask the doctors once about her own health—just interested in her boyfriend. Maybe Bobby and Larry had tossed Merrick around a bit after all, but if that was the case, he sure didn’t bruise easily. The doctor said that Merrick was in great shape with no sign of recent trauma or injury at all.
Of course, Merrick left the hospital before Diggs got a chance to talk to him, hadn’t shown up back at his apartment, and his vehicle was still parked back in Old Town last time one of their units had driven past.
Mona Whittle was hiding something, and Merrick Jones was just plain hiding.
CHAPTER 6
MERRICK PEELED HIS FACE from the sticky leather of the couch on which he was sprawled. He tried to sit up but fell back into the sofa, unable to keep his balance. His stomach pitched as he rolled onto his side and willed himself not to vomit. He was still hung over and needed more sleep, but first he had to figure out where he was.
The room was adorned with antique stained wood furniture and smelled of dirt and grass and living things. Wide wooden floor planks ran the length of the room and ended at a set of tall double doors. A mahogany desk stood in front of a large circular window that was crisscrossed with bands of oak interlaced across the glass. The full range of greens and browns from the plants scattered throughout the room reminded Merrick of a forest more than an office.
He struggled to his feet and steadied himself against the wall. He took a deep breath and absently touched his stomach. He was still thin—that part wasn’t a dream. He remembered the alley, Mona, the hospital, and the woman at the bar. He had talked to her for what seemed like several hours, but couldn’t remember her name.
Merrick rubbed his forehead as he made his way around the huge desk and over to the window. He looked through his own dark reflection into the night and saw that he was several stories above ground. In the distance, the perfect clusters of trees and the familiar high-rise office buildings still aglow with fluorescent lights told him that he was somewhere in Tysons Corner, close to where he worked.
Merrick turned as the room’s heavy wooden doors creaked open. A thin old man with long gray hair in a ponytail wore a full-length black robe of thick natural fiber and seemed to float across the floor toward him. The beautiful blonde from the bar followed behind the old man. She was as physically perfect as he remembered but her face showed none of the warmth from earlier or any hint of recognition. He should have known that a woman with her looks wouldn’t have been interested in him.
The old man stopped on the other side of the desk that Merrick stood behind.
“I am honored to meet you at last,” the old man said with a wistful smile.
His voice was deep and rich with a full timbre and his words echoed despite their softness.
“I thank Terrada that you awoke so close to our home. My name is Ohman, and I believe you already know my daughter, Cara.”
The woman suddenly seemed demure and fragile, but he was certain that this was just another of her performances.
“Why am I here? And where the hell is here?”
“Forgive me,” Ohman said. “You are on the top floor of the Rune Corp building in Tysons Corner. Simply put, you are here because our futures depend on you.”
Merrick paused, unsure of how to respond.
“I have to be getting home before my girlfriend starts worrying and calls the cops.”
“There is no one waiting for you at home,” the old man said. “You are in no danger here, nor is there a need to worry.”
“I’ll call the cops myself if I have to,” he said as he reached into his empty pocket for his cell phone.
“You don’t need that anymore,” Ohman said. “Besides, I must insist that you hear me out before doing anything rash.”
Merrick leaned against the back wall, crossing his arms in front of him in what he hoped was a defiant, powerful stance.
“Okay. What do I have to do with your future?”
“Not just my future—the future of the world, or at least this incarnation of it.”
Merrick hung his head and let out a long sigh.
Cara walked over to a wet bar in the corner of the office, and poured a glass of orange juice. She offered it to him across the desk.
“This will help with your hangover…and the aftereffects of the sedative,” she said with an even tone.
He waved the drink away. He was dehydrated, but not stupid enough to accept anything to drink from her again.
“You drugged and kidnapped me,” he said, moving out from behind the desk. “I’m going to walk out of here and catch a taxi home, and neither of you is going to try to stop me.”
Ohman frowned, his eyes turning the color of arctic ice.
“You cannot leave. You are completely unaware of the events and of the danger unfolding around you. You are safe in this building for the moment, but not for long. What happened to you earlier is only the beginning of how your life has changed.”
Merrick got up and moved toward the door.
“You’re both nuts, and you’re making my head hurt more than it already does. Now I see where crazy girl gets it from…”
Ohman made a slight wave of his hand and muttered something that sounded like leaves scuttling about. A gust of wind slammed into Merrick’s chest, sending him across the room and pinning him down into the leather sofa.
Merrick’s heart rate doubled and his arms went cold. The windows and doors were closed, and the air in the room was still, as if nothing had happened. He broke out in a thin sheen of sweat as he struggled to put what had just happened to him into a logical context. Finding none, he ran for the door.
Once again, Ohman waved his hand, and Merrick was slammed back into the couch by an invisible force. He looked up at Ohman and Cara. The sound of his labored breathing filled the room.
He didn’t trust the two people standing in front of him, and he wasn’t going to be held against his will because of a couple gusts of wind. He was confused, and his conscious mind tenaciously refused to accept that magic or something similar to it existed. At the same time, he knew what he had experienced earlier was also real. He willed himself to search for that well of power he had tapped in the alley, but he found only fog. His temples throbbed from the effort, but nothing happened—he was defenseless.
Ohman’s face settled into an impatient scowl.
“Please don’t try that again,” Ohman said. “A considerable amount of effort has been spent restoring the energy you threw away this evening. Please try not to waste it again so pointlessly.”
“I don’t know how, but the only thing I did in that alley was to save Mona’s life and mine!”
“And to kill others.”
“The guy in the alley deserved it.”
“And the woman in the hospital?”
Merrick was silent. He didn’t remember a woman dying in the hospital.
“Most of the energy you used was not your own, but was instead siphoned from those around you. Your attempt at summoning your power just now failed because my daughter and I are trained in our crafts and were able to resist your intrusions…and because you no longer possess this.”
Ohman held up the stone that Merrick’s father had given him.
“A gift from your real parents.”
“Did you know them?”
“I knew of them. They were of my kind, as are you. It was said that your father was a just man and a mighty warrior, a pure-blooded Drayoom in the truest sense. Your mother was also a pure blood, but perhaps not as deserving of her station as your father.”
“They’re dead?”
“Nothing dies. Things simply change form.”
“You know what I mean.”
Ohman was silent.
“And I’m like them? Like you?” Merrick asked.
“That is still to be determined. But one thing you must know is that this stone allows you to draw upon your own inner magic. We call this magical stone, divinium. When you are not trained in how to use it, it releases just enough of your own energy to draw on that of others. To accomplish such a feat as calling down the lightning, even with the divinium, so soon after your awakening, proves that you have great potential. It also reminds me that you are a child without the wisdom to use your power without destroying those around you. That must change quickly.”
“Like I said before, that guy who attacked Mona got what he deserved. I don’t care if I took his energy to save our lives. I’d do the same thing again.”
Ohman exhaled audibly and shook his head.
“You didn’t use his energy. You killed him using the life force that you stole from your girlfriend. You—not your attackers—are the reason she almost died last night.”
“But, I saved her later,” Merrick said in a distant voice. “I made things right.”
“You made things right only for yourself and your small world. The woman in the room next to you paid for your ignorance with her life.”
Merrick remembered the scene at the hospital—touching Mona’s ankle and pouring life-giving power into her. Then, he remembered the flat line coming from the next room over. His stomach clenched and he tasted bile in the back of his throat. Had he actually killed an innocent person to save Mona?
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he said flatly.
“Intention is nothing. The laws of magic are not so different from your laws of physics. Magic can neither be created nor destroyed. Balance is maintained regardless of intention. There is always action and reaction, cause and effect, decision and consequence. One life is saved. Another is lost. You took from those around you unknowingly, but you are still responsible. To take from a single source until it is depleted of life is the greatest sin among our kind. To do so marks you as one without knowledge of your craft—someone to be both feared and pitied.”
Merrick sunk further into the couch. He understood what Ohman was saying, but he hadn’t known the rules. Now that he did, he told himself that he’d never repeat the same mistake, but he knew he was lying to himself. If Mona’s life were threatened again, he would change nothing.
“I can’t exactly turn myself in for killing someone with magic. They’d just lock me up in a rubber room somewhere.”
“You can only focus on the future and learn from your mistakes so that you do not make them again. For now, you must rest. Tomorrow, you will begin your studies.”
“I can’t go back to sleep. I’ve got things to do. I have to talk to Mona—try to explain what happened.”
“If you leave this building without my guidance, your brother will find you and use your energy to destroy the world.”
Merrick was too stunned to speak for a few seconds.
“I have a brother?”
Ohman turned his back to Merrick and touched one of the plants hanging from the wall.
“His name is Eudroch, and he is surely drawing closer even as we speak. Unlike yourself, he has been aware of his magic since the two of you shared your mother’s womb. He tried to kill you before you were even born, you know. He will stop at nothing to reclaim that which he believes is his.”
“He’d kill me for the stone my father gave me?”
“This is a trinket to him. He craves nothing less than all of your magic. He believes that you should never have existed and that your energy is his birthright—that you stole it from him inside your mother.”
Ohman pointed at Merrick’s stomach and motioned for him to raise his shirt. He did as he was asked, revealing his flat stomach and the dense scar tissue around his umbilicus. He had never known where the scars had come from.
“Those are the marks of your brother’s first attempt at taking your magic.”
Merrick imagined the scars being made by the small hand of an unborn f
etus and let go of his shirt in disgust. Cara offered him the orange juice again. This time, he accepted and took a sip, cradling the glass in his shaky hands.
Ohman walked over to the circular window behind his desk. He stood with his back to Merrick and Cara, his hands clasped behind him.
“Your life so far has been a diversion, meant to keep you and the world safe from your brother. When your human father gave you that piece of divinium, your real life began. I can only pray to Terrada that it will last long enough for you to fulfill your destiny.”
Ohman cocked his head as if listening to something far away.
“Cara will show you where you can sleep for the night.”
“If magic can neither be created or destroyed,” Merrick said, “then how can I regain what I’ve spent?”
“This building is built around an ancient friend of mine. The earth itself will give of its own force so that you will be healed as you sleep. Few places are so blessed.”
Cara started to lead Merrick out of Ohman’s office. Merrick stopped and turned to look at Ohman.
“When I was in the bar, before Cara showed up, I…tried to summon my power. It didn’t work, but that’s how you found me, isn’t it?”
Ohman turned around and nodded.
“That’s the same way my brother’s tracking me.”
“You have been listening,” Ohman said with a wry grin. “The resonance of your raw magic is as easy to follow as the ripples in a still pond. This building is shielded—magic within these walls cannot easily be detected from the outside. Eudroch will find us eventually, but you will be safe here tonight.”
“What if I leave in the middle of the night?”
“You would never make it to the elevator.”
Merrick swallowed hard and turned to follow Cara down the hall. The great doors to Ohman’s office swung shut.
“Does he sleep in there?” he asked.
“I’m not sure he sleeps at all anymore, but he’ll spend the night there. He seldom leaves his work.”
The Conservation of Magic Page 6
