“There is a ruling council for everything that’s not mundane, except ogres. They’re not as organized. You have already had dealings with the Vampire Council. At some point, you will have to appear before the Witches’ Council, your ruling body, to get registered. Although, perhaps not. You have a familiar and that may automatically have registered you. I believe they talk to each other but I’m not certain. At any rate, you will get a notice of appearance if you have to.”
Now in addition to mundane law and the Internal Revenue Service, I had to keep up with magical laws, too? I was getting a headache and said as much.
“Not to worry. As long as you don’t kill anyone with your magic, you will be just fine. Using it for murder is about the only prohibition. The registration is more for your magical signature. Everyone’s is different, just as everyone’s DNA is different. You will learn that. Back to the energy.”
Over the next hour, I learned how to not only make balls but pull things toward me and throw a magical punch. The couch pillows got a good workout and I only broke one bottle of Scotch on the bar, which Gregory quickly made disappear by evaporating the liquid and “sweeping” the glass into the trash.
The crash of the bottle woke Tony up and he opened the bedroom door just in time to have a pillow fly into his face. “Nice wakeup call,” he growled.
I blushed. “Sorry. I was trying to make it fly around the room and you opening the door changed the flow.”
“And in that, there is a lesson,” Gregory said. “You need to keep a tighter hold of whatever you’re moving so a change in the air current doesn’t disrupt the motion. Now that Tony is up, I suggest we suspend lessons. We have a drive to make, I think.”
Gregory and I had finished the first pot of coffee, so I made another for us to “start our day” with. Although I’d had almost no sleep, I really didn’t feel that bad and it didn’t feel like a caffeine buzz. I asked Gregory.
“Whenever you work with energy a lot, you always retain some inside. Under normal circumstances, I would take you outside to ground the excess but since you didn’t really sleep, I will let you keep it. It will help you get through the day but it’s not a practice you should become accustomed to. You can literally burn yourself out by retaining energy that doesn’t really belong in you.
“I’ve seen it happen,” he continued. “It’s not a pretty sight. Have you ever seen anyone Tasered? It’s rather like that. The body just collapses from complete synaptic overload, except you don’t recover from this type of electrical shock.”
I’d seen videos of cops being Tasered so they would know what the target was feeling. I didn’t want to experience the same thing. “So, you’ll teach me to get rid of the excess energy, right?”
“This afternoon, yes, when it will be okay for you to get sleepy. Perhaps on our way back from wherever we’re headed. It’s easy enough.”
We drank coffee, watched the morning news, ate room service breakfast and then took our showers. By nine, Gregory had called for the rental car. As I put my jacket on, Fudge clawed my pants leg. I took that as a sign he needed to go with us, so zipped the jacket part way up to make a cradle for him. Gregory just raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Shortly thereafter, we were in the car with Gregory driving and Tony navigating. Fudge and I stretched out across the back seat, watching the scenery flash by.
Even on a Sunday morning, Atlanta’s interstates were busy. Gregory smoothly maneuvered the car through traffic. There was a bit of an awkward moment as we all searched our pockets for fifty cents in change to get us through a toll booth but shortly thereafter, the indications of civilization started to thin. The highway even lost its exits and became a four-lane road with stoplights.
We came upon one intersection with one of the largest outlet malls I’ve ever seen. Minnesota has a couple but I’d only visited them once each as they’re a bit of a drive from The Cities. Although I don’t much like to shop, the thought of the bargains awaiting almost had me drooling. Unfortunately, it wasn’t yet open. I filed the location in the back of my mind for future reference.
“Go just a bit farther,” Tony said. “There’s too much interference here but it looks like it’ll thin out and I’ll be able to get a better sniff.”
“Wait,” I cried. “There’s a Starbucks sign up ahead on the right. I want more coffee.”
Gregory sighed, pulled into the shopping center and we all got a caffeine fix: regular coffee for Gregory and Tony; I got my favorite venti latte. Fudge got a small cup of milk. Yes, I know milk is bad for cats, especially male ones, but I like to give him a treat every now and again.
(I always deserve treats! I know about the milk. It is taught to us at a very early age. Alcohol is bad for humans, yet they drink it. Everything in moderation.)
“If you’re satisfied, may we get back to the matter at hand?” Gregory asked me when we were back in the car.
“Sorry. But you know how addicted I am to this stuff,” I pouted. Gregory pulled back out onto the highway.
Five minutes later, Tony told Gregory to pull over. “The traffic is really thin and I think the air should be clear enough for me to get a sense of direction, if they haven’t masked it,” he said.
Gregory pulled over and killed the engine. Tony got out, shut his door, walked a ways away from the car and, raising his nose to the sky, turned a slow circle. He turned a second time, eventually stopping when he faced the direction we were heading. After one last sniff, he got back into the car.
“They’re really not that smart,” he said after taking a drink of his coffee. “If they were, they would have wiped the bag with disinfectant or something like that after finding the hair. As it is, I get a very faint scent of it, still north of here. According to the signs, there’s another town up the road. Let’s stop there, too.”
Ten minutes later, we pulled off the highway and drove into a quaint little town with the equally quaint name of Dahlonega. Like most small towns, it was centered on a square and looked like a typical tourist trap with shops selling everything from antiques to ice cream. The one detail that was different about this town was the “Gold Rush Museum” prominent on the square in the old building that was probably once the courthouse. Naturally, nothing appeared open, yet, it being Sunday morning and all.
Curious, I pulled out my phone and did an Internet search on the town. As I read, something clicked in my mind. “Hey guys,” I said. “Did you know there was a gold rush in Georgia before the one in California?”
“Yes,” Gregory said, concurrent with Tony’s “No, really?”
“According to Wikipedia, it sounds like this gold rush was the reason for the Cherokee removal. White miners trespassed on Cherokee land,” I said for Tony’s benefit. Then to both, “You know, an abandoned mine fits the picture of the place in my dreams.”
Gregory pulled into a parking spot on the square. “Then perhaps we are in the right area. Let’s get out and under the pretense of stretching our legs, Tony, take another sniff or two.”
As much as I hated it, we cracked the windows and left Fudge in the car. Gregory and I strolled around the square, looking into shop windows. Tony walked on his own and wandered down a side street. I pulled Gregory into the only shop that appeared open: the Dahlonega General Store.
“Oooh, look at all the rocks,” I cooed. I was a sucker for pretty stones and one entire wall was devoted to trays of them.
“Hmmm,” Gregory mused. “Which ones are you drawn to?”
“They’re all so pretty, but nothing’s set in jewelry.” I pointed to a geode. “Apart from putting it on the coffee table, what would I do with something that large?”
“Consider this a teaching moment,” Gregory said quietly. “Quiet your mind and tell me which ones call to you. Ignore the ‘pretty’ for the moment.”
I sighed. I guess I was going to have to get used to this witchcraft crap pervading everything. I closed my eyes and recalling what I’d experienced of energy earlier in the morning, felt around. Me
taphysically-speaking, of course. Tingles came from everywhere: weak ones from the staff and customers in the store; stronger, older ones from the building itself; and yet even stronger and older ones from the stones surrounding me, although some of those tingles felt a little off.
“Separate the wheat from the chaff,” Gregory whispered in my ear. “Identify the stones then find the song.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Song?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what I call it. If you have a close affinity to something, it will ‘speak’ to you in an unusual way. Song is the only way I have to describe it.”
“Ooookaaay,” I said. “I’ve got the stones separated from everything else but why does some of the energy feel weird?”
“I can’t tell you for certain because Earth isn’t my element but my guess is you’re feeling the effects of the stones being polished. Go on, now. See if any of them sing to you.”
I closed my eyes again. There was a strong, not-off tingle coming from my left. I turned, opened my eyes and looked straight at a container of chunks of not-quite-gold-looking rocks. The sign said, “Pyrite. Fool’s Gold.” I pointed. “Those feel the, um, cleanest, for lack of a better word.”
Gregory laughed. “Appropriate for your particular situation. If I recall correctly, pyrite is good for focus and clarity. A small piece of it in your pocket might help you with all the lessons you will be enduring over the next several years. Pick out one piece that feels right.”
I shrugged my shoulders. Whatever. I rummaged around in the bin until I closed my fingers over one piece that virtually hummed when I touched it. “This one,” I said as I pulled it out from the depths.
“Good. Go pay the man your dollar plus tax. We should find Tony.”
I did as I was told and slipped the rock into my pocket. Somehow, it felt right having that small weight there. We walked out of the store and almost bumped into Tony.
“What, no huge shopping bags?” He smiled at me.
“Not from there. Most of it is touristy stuff. Where did you go?”
“Been walking around the side streets, trying to get a direction. It’s kind of difficult with all the odors coming from the buildings but I think they’re northeast of here.”
“We’re in the right area, then. I wonder how we find an abandoned gold mine up in them thar hills?” Gregory mused.
“It’s nearly noon. Jarvis should be up. Let me call and see if he’s got any ideas,” Tony said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Yes, it was almost noon and several hours since I’d had breakfast. I looked around the square with my stomach as Tony talked with Jarvis. Someone related to a café catty-corner from where we were standing was opening its door and putting one of those blackboard signs out on the sidewalk.
I pointed. “I’m hungry and they’re open. Can we get something to eat?”
Tony tapped his phone then looked at Gregory. “Jarvis is going to make a couple of calls and get back to me. I suggest we feed the girl and then head back to the city. There’s not much we can do until we’ve got a better idea of location and we need to be back there in the morning to get the money, anyway.”
Gregory nodded. “I agree. I could do with a bite to eat but Amy, we should let Fudge out of the car for a bit, first.”
Damn, I’d forgotten the cat again. I wasn’t used to having him along wherever I went. We went back to the car. After Gregory had unlocked it, I scooped up Fudge and, carrying him over to the wee lawn in front of the museum, put him down. With a glare, he walked over to the shrubs next to the building and I swear let out a sigh as he peed. After scratching in the mulch, he came back to me without a single detour to smell other things. He was continually surprising me.
We put Fudge back in the car with a promise to bring him some food and went to the café I’d seen to eat. The only thing I could find appealing on the menu was a salad – everything else was fried and although I was calmer than I’d been earlier, I didn’t think grease would settle well.
After lunch, Gregory pulled me back over to the lawn by the museum. “There is nothing important left to do this afternoon. I want you to release the energy you’ve picked up today. It’s easiest at the beginning if you do it in bare feet but it’s a little chilly today for that. So, I want you to feel inside yourself and take hold of the energy that you know isn’t yours. When you’re ready, crouch down, pretend you’re examining the grass and imagine that excess energy flowing out your hands into the ground.”
Separating out energy was getting easier. After only a minute or two of comparing the way I felt now to what was normal, I found a knot of “foreign” energy just below my breastbone. I mentally grabbed hold of that knot, unraveled it like a ball of yarn and moved the string up my torso, around to my shoulders, then down my arms, forcing it out of my hands. Once the end of the last string disappeared into the earth, I felt really tired.
“Good girl!” Gregory exclaimed. “You’re catching on a lot faster than I would have anticipated. You will probably doze off on the way back to the city but that’s to be expected since you really didn’t sleep last night.”
We piled back into the car and as Gregory followed the side roads to the highway that would take us back to downtown Atlanta, I gave Fudge the pieces of a hamburger that Tony had saved for him. The meat hadn’t quite disappeared before I fell asleep.
Chapter 7
I must have been a lot more tired than I thought. The next thing I knew, I woke to strengthening light coming through the window of the hotel bedroom. My stomach was growling, too. Looking at the clock, I saw it was just after six o’clock and since Tony and Fudge were sound asleep on either side of me, I knew it had to be morning. The smell of coffee had me trying to get out of bed without disturbing either of the other occupants. I noticed I was in my nightgown (it had better have been Tony) so pulled on a robe and padded into the living room. Fudge woke and followed.
“Good morning!” Gregory greeted me with a cup of steaming elixir. “I know you want this first, but after that, drink some juice or eat some fruit. You need fuel and fructose is the quickest available form until I can order some breakfast.”
He was right. I couldn’t even think about any kind of food until I was completely awake, which usually meant copious amounts of coffee.
“How do you feel this morning?” he asked.
I thought about it for a moment. “Apart from being hungry, I’ve had a good night’s sleep. That much is obvious. Nearly seventeen hours, though?”
“You’ve done things with your energy in the past two days that you’ve never done before. Except for the sore muscles part, think of it as if you ran a marathon without ever having run one before. You will get used to it in time but …”
“But what?”
“You need to eat something other than a salad at meals. It’s not enough fuel and you will find yourself running on fumes. Yes, you can borrow energy from around you but as I said before, it’s not something you can continually do without burnout. Naturally fueling yourself so your personal reserves don’t get depleted is the best way to go.”
I frowned. “So why didn’t you tell me this at lunch yesterday?”
“You’re upset at sleeping so long, aren’t you? Experience is the best teacher.” He grinned. “Don’t feel bad. I slept an entire day after my first lesson and was caned for missing my chores.”
More background on Gregory. I’d never thought about it but the more I was learning about him, the more I thought I could write him into one of my stories. I probed further. “Caned?”
“Literally. I was raised on a farm by my grandparents and Grandfather had lost part of one leg in the war. If I misbehaved, he would hit my backside with his cane. I got some nasty bruises but I learned to do as I was told rather quickly.”
“The war?” I wanted to know how old Gregory really was. Yes, we females want to know everything.
“Amy, I’m not going to tell you my exact age if that�
�s what you’re feeling around for. But Grandfather lost his leg in the French and Indian War. He was lucky to have survived.”
Gregory was old by my reckoning but only looked to be in his forties. I refilled my coffee cup. “So who gave you the magical lessons? It couldn’t have been your grandfather if you got caned for missing chores after a lesson like that.”
Gregory sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“My abilities come from my maternal grandmother and although they skipped my mother, she was aware of what Grandmama could do. When I started manifesting at age ten, it scared the bejasus out of my father, who wanted me out of his house. Mother convinced my grandparents to take me in.
“Remember, that wasn’t too long after the Salem scare. Magical people were still secretive and other paranormal-types stayed hidden. My grandfather didn’t know a damned thing about Grandmama’s abilities, except that she was the healer in the area. No one thought anything about that since herbs and folk medicine were women’s work.
“She taught me the basics while we were out of his sight, doing chores like feeding the chickens or working in the kitchen garden. When she’d taken me as far as a witch can, she passed me on to a wizard who owned the neighboring property by getting me a job with him felling timber.”
He refilled both our cups and while starting a fresh pot, continued, “So, as you’re good with numbers, you can figure out about how old I am and by that, you know I have a lot more experience than Cassandra. But there’s only so much I can help you with because females, or witches and males, or wizards, go about their magic somewhat differently.”
“Why is that?” I asked. “Isn’t magic just magic?”
“Yes and no,” he answered. “I’m not certain but my guess is it has to do with our hormones. At least in my experience, wizards tend to use the brute force of the energy whereas witches…weave it. There is no difference in outcome but to me, witches’ magic seems gentle, even when they’re walloping on someone and trust me, I’ve seen witches fight with magic.”
Upheaval! Page 7
