by Garon Whited
Since angels were unlikely to have noticed the house, we headed back to it. I had a more mundane worry. When we left the house, I thought we weren’t coming back, so I didn’t care if they wondered about the giant, fire-breathing horse. We didn’t make a production of it, but we didn’t waste any major effort on sneaking away, either. We left after dark and Bronze tread lightly and quietly, but that was about it.
I hope the neighbors are sound sleepers.
We approached the house with as much stealth as we could manage. With the time near three in the morning, we managed fairly well. Being a creature of darkness has its perks.
The alley down the middle of the block was unlit and unoccupied. We stepped softly down it to my house. The fence was five feet tall, so Bronze hopped over it—again, with great care. I felt the impact of her landing, but I was standing right there. Sneaking into the garage involved going around front, but I went inside, turned off the outside lights, opened the door, and rolled the truck partially out of the garage. Bronze sneaked in under cover of darkness.
If I’d known we would come back, I would’ve had jumper cables for her, or at least a spare bumper for the truck. As it was, she leaped from statue to truck and waited, idling in the driveway while I closed the garage door. I went into the house and set up shop to charge magical crystals from the power grid.
Houston, Texas, January 21st
My original intention was to not futz around. True, we could drive through the suburbs for a few hours, smorgasbording along in a cloud of dark, invisible tendrils, and eventually suck up enough vital force for me to do a gate spell, but it was late enough and the houses widely spaced enough I was pretty sure we wouldn’t manage it before dawn. Maybe the next night, if I felt we were in a real hurry.
I also had some concerns about using vampire powers—chaos vampire powers—when angels were known to be in the same geographic region. But I’m a paranoid coward with a persecution complex. Doing the whole spell-driven tendril fan might be like waving a flag in angelic terms. Quietly siphoning a few things a close range might be safer. I did drain the vitality from the hogs Bronze herded my way when I was scorched, so it might not be too noticeable.
On the other hand, the house has multiple branch circuits and one 220-volt outlet for the electric dryer. Overall, the house can safely draw about a hundred amps from the power grid. My idea was to start with a conversion spell for the electricity and set it up to replicate. By putting one on each branch circuit in the house, they would all replicate. But my brain finally caught up to my situation and I realized I could simply go to the house power panel and put my replicating conversion spell above the main breaker. True, the rest of the house would gradually dim to nearly zero as the spells took up more and more of the power from the grid, but if it got me out of this world faster, I was all for it.
Of course, there’s a butter zone between devoting everything to magical power production—an investment in more production—and in drawing off power to charge a crystal. If I let the spells run long enough, they’ll eventually produce magical power at whatever limit is imposed by the power source, or near enough. This will charge a crystal rapidly, but I don’t want to charge crystals repeatedly. I want a charged crystal as quickly as I can get one. So, rather than keep the replications running, there comes a point where it’s faster to divert all the power to charging.
I reached the point of diminishing returns a little after dawn. One of my crystals started charging from the spell system in the breaker box. I lit the gas stove and started recharging me by eating. Thank goodness I didn’t clean out the pantry yesterday.
My face still hurt, though. My regeneration fixed most of it, but I would have to live with what appeared to be a bad sunburn—ha, ha—and no eyebrows for the rest of the day. I also didn’t like the way my eyes were deeply bloodshot. Regenerating burns is about as bad as regrowing missing bits, probably because burned bits, effectively, have to be regrown. It’s not the same as closing a wound. Everything is still there if I get cut open. Burning destroys tissue. A cut is merely a rearrangement.
I was halfway through what I call breakfast when there was an explosion and the lights went out.
Well, crap. I unsheathed Firebrand and kept low as I headed for the windows at the front of the house. Who was attacking?
It took me longer than I like to admit to catch on. It wasn’t an attack. A pole transformer blew up down the block and took the local power with it. No grenades. No dynamite. It was a rusty, old transformer and a surprising amount of kaboom.
I’m not sure, but it might have been me. My power-conversion spells, anyway. I doubt this old house ever drew a hundred amps in its life. Add that load to the early-morning surge of power demand from the neighborhood…
This was a problem. Without a power grid, those spells were useless. I couldn’t even convert them to solar converters while we waited for a power company to fix the problem. The electrical conversion is different from solar conversion, as well as being much smaller and more densely packed. Solar is all about area. Electrical is all about intensity. The two don’t work the same despite sharing certain principles.
Nevertheless, I checked the telephone. It was a rotary-dial phone, but I didn’t know the number to the power company. After a conversation with an operator, I managed to call in the outage and report the street corner with the dead transformer and burning pole. They informed me it might be a day or two.
I hung up rather than take it out on the nice lady answering the phone.
All right, can I remove the spells I’ve already replicated and take them elsewhere? No. They’re merged into the structure of the wiring. I can’t simply grab them and bring them along to some other source. I’d have to start over. Of course, I could start producing solar converters, but such a course would also be starting over.
I felt an urge to draw a long diagram in the road, kill everyone I found, and use them as magical sacrifices to power my spells. I resisted the urge. I entertained the idea of finding a power substation and killing everyone there before using it as a power supply for my spells, but it was an all-or-nothing effort. If anything went wrong at the substation, there would be police all around and all over me.
Deep breathing and some meditation practice aren’t sure-fire coping strategies for bursts of rage, but they help. During the day, anyway.
All I want to do is leave the universe. Why is this so hard?
Well, fine. Be that way, universe! I changed clothes and got out the ladder. Lacking a ready magical power source, I climbed up on the roof with a grease pencil and started turning the roof into a solar collector.
“Mister Koberman?”
“One second,” I called back, not looking down. I finished my symbols and turned, sitting on the angle of the roof. Two policemen stood in my driveway, looking up at me. “Can I help you, officers?”
“We’d like to ask you a few questions, sir.”
“Fire away.”
“Could you come down, sir?”
“Sure. Hang on. Ladder’s around back. Come on around and we can sit on the patio.”
They started around the house and I headed down the back roof to the ladder. We met on the patio.
“Now, officers…?”
“Michaels and Elliot, sir,” said the taller one, Michaels.
“Have a seat. It’s a nice day out, especially for this time of year. What can I do for you?” I asked, seating myself on the low half-wall along one side of the patio. The bricks held me easily, unlike the creaky roof.
“Have you seen anything unusual in the neighborhood, Mr. Koberman?”
“Can’t say I have. Of course, packs of children running around and being loud aren’t unusual, merely annoying.”
“No doubt, sir. Do you own a horse?”
“I own a statue of a horse. I inherited it from my father. He was a master at bronzework, let me tell you. The level of detail is incredible! I don’t know what to do with it, really, since it’s a family hei
rloom at this point, but I’ve been considering auctioning it. It really is quite amazing. You should see it!”
“No, that’s quite all right,” interrupted Elliot. “We’re not really looking for a statue.”
“What? You mean you’re looking for a real horse? In this neighborhood?”
“We had a report of someone suspicious on horseback last night, sir,” Michaels resumed. “We’re canvasing the neighborhood to see if anyone saw or heard anything unusual.”
“I’m sure I would remember something like that,” I assured them. “When was it? I have a hard time getting to sleep, so I try to start by eight.”
“We’re told the incident was around eight o’clock.”
“I’d be in my pajamas by then, with the drapes closed. If there wasn’t much noise, I could easily have missed it. But is it illegal to ride a horse through the neighborhood?”
“No, it’s not. The rider appeared to be dressed in some sort of costume and carrying a sword.”
“A sword?”
“That’s correct.”
“Six-guns, sure. That makes sense for a cowboy. But why a sword. Oh! A cavalry saber?”
“We’re not entirely sure, sir. That’s why we’re out asking questions.”
“Wow. I’m sorry I missed it.”
“So are we. Well, thank you for your time, and we’re sorry to have called you down from…?”
“Oh, I was checking the roof. I keep hearing a sort of flapping sound when the wind picks up and I think it’s a shingle, somewhere. It’s woken me up at night a few times. I’m marking the ones along the edge that seem loose. I’ll get some sealant once I know how many I’ve got. If there’s too many of them, I’ll get someone out to do some real roof-work.”
“Makes sense. Oh, and get a front bumper for your truck, sir.”
“Already spoke to my mechanic. He’s hunting around a junkyard. At worst, I’ll drive it to the shop, but I hope to get him out here to help me put it on.
“Just thought I’d mention it before you got cited for it. Good luck with the roof.”
“And good luck to you, too, officers.”
I showed them out to the front and went back to working on my roof. Next time I plan to leave a world, I’m not going to go “Well, phooey. What do I care?” I’m maintaining my cover of mundanity right up until I step through the gate.
Trees.
Okay, I’ve got the roof covered in solar converter. It’s charging my crystal, but it’s going to take a while.
On the other hand, trees. They’re really good at absorbing solar energy. They use it to create vital energy—it’s one of the major things they need to live. There are two big trees near the house, so I’ve used a spell to tap them for vital energy. This gets converted at a much higher ratio than solar energy—why, I’m not sure. I’m trying not to kill the trees, though, so it’s still not fast.
Tonight, if the power is still out, I plan to go into town and take a walk through heavily-populated areas. If I can suck up enough vital energy from enough people, I might be able to simply cast the required gate. If not, I can channel a lot of it into a power crystal.
I dislike this. I know there’s an energy-state being looking for me. At least, I assume there is. It may have decided to go elsewhere, or it may have called in all its friends. It’s one reason I want out of this universe. I’m hesitant to open a gate anywhere in the vicinity if I’m not going to immediately leave through it. I don’t know if I have a legion of angels—is it a legion? Or is that demons? Maybe a choir. A bunch of them, anyway—roaming around, trying to find me. I fear I’m in the position of having fired a machine gun while a cop was around to notice. Now I’ve evaded the metaphorical cop, but I don’t want to fire a pistol and give away my position.
I really need to get on the stick and wake up my altar ego. I’m at a severe disadvantage. I can’t perceive the energy planes like he can, and I need his help. He could keep an eye out for energy beings and let me know if it’s safe to work. There’s never a demigod around when you want one.
I forgot my face had some regenerating still to do. I came out of my transformation hungry. Well, after doing the vampire smorgasbord of vital energies, I might be able to find an all-night butcher or a convenient alley.
Bronze drove, Firebrand rode in the passenger seat, and I navigated. What I was most concerned about was the possibility of encountering a glowing figure of light, and my night-eyes were best equipped to spot them. We parked outside a nightclub and I checked for entities. Seeing none, I insinuated tendrils through the wall, spreading a broad net through part of the building. There was quite a lot of vitality to be had, but I kept it to a minimum. A light touch, no more, and we moved on. Within the hour, I was feeling pretty good. I didn’t think it would open a gate, but all I was after was the acceleration of power accumulation.
Nothing of a celestial nature appeared. Either they didn’t detect my tendrils as chaos manifestations, or I was in the position of a burglar who simply isn’t seen by the roving patrol car. I don’t know which.
I went ahead and did the conversion spell to transfer much of my stolen energies into magical force for the power crystal I brought with me. It wasn’t anywhere near fully charged, but I could use it during the day. Gate travel needs to be a daytime activity, generally. It’s fifty-fifty if my destination is in a daytime time zone.
There was a slight detour when I spotted a likely assailant. Judging by the colors of his spirit, he was just the sort of man I needed. I went down an alley, all alone, and came back out all alone—but without a hunger problem.
Then it was off to steal more vital energy from whatever clusters of people I could find.
Houston, Texas, January 22nd
After another day of charging, my crystals are borderline on whether or not we can leave safely. If the power company would get around to replacing the damaged transformer, it wouldn’t be a problem. Tonight, if I buffet my way through town again, we should have more than enough. It doesn’t help that I have to keep diverting power into my hiding spells, but I’d rather keep them going if an angry angel is looking for me.
I’m wondering where to go. Do I want to dive hurriedly through a gate into Zombie World and risk emerging in a horde of the things? Or do I want to go to the Cretaceous Lair and risk leading some sneaky energy-being to my long-term safe house? Oh, and risk being eaten by dinosaurs? I have got move the Cretaceous gateway inside! Maybe the pyramid has some usable spaces by now.
I wish I could look into each and see if it’s safe, sunlight-wise. My Ring of Spying takes some power to operate. Even if I have enough after the nightly buffet, I’m still leery of trying it. It’s not the power cost that causes me to worry, but the use of a gate before I’m ready to leave. I don’t want attention from On High. If I were willing to risk it, I might even open the Ring of Spying and feed an orichalcum wire through the miniscule opening. If I touch a charged power crystal, I should be able to draw power from it through the wire.
Of course, if my crystals were connected to my gate on the other end, I could dial up the Zombie World gate and draw on its power. But nooooo—I had to have my larger crystals in a charging rack for easy grab-and-go. There are a few tiny crystals and gems still embedded in the garage wall, but they don’t hold as much. They’re there as an emergency activate-and-dive-through power source—more a parachute than a plane.
Still, the house in Zombie World is protected by several spells. It should be okay, assuming I avoid a night-to-day near-death experience. When we get home tonight, we should have sufficient charge to depart immediately. I think we might. I’d rather cope with a crash transformation than angelic incineration.
I’m glad I have a set of prepared spells for that.
Still, if nothing bothers us, I’ll wait until morning. We’ll have more charge, for one thing, and I can make sure my spells are set to self-destruct when we leave.
Elbe, Zombie World
It’s just after sunrise, and we’
re going for it. Bronze is in her statue, I have all my stuff together, and we’re set to spring through. I’m targeting the gate in the garage to cut down as much as possible on the power requirements and to use whatever power it has stored up. It ought to be enough.
It was. We stepped through before the rippling died down, then through the gate. It cut off without my say-so, however, which would have disturbed me greatly if I’d been more alert. As it was, we went from day to night in one step. I was busy falling down and groaning for a few seconds. Night to day is potentially fatal. Day to night is fatal, but I get over it much quicker.
I sat up and looked around.
Nothing to see here, Boss.
“No zombies?”
Not anywhere I can hear them.
“Good enough.”
I trusted Firebrand, but there are moments when listening on the psychic wavelengths isn’t as thorough as I would like. Bronze and I did a quick tour around the area to be sure. Nope, no zombies. I assume they were all off searching for food in places more likely to have it.
Bronze parked herself in the garage in both senses, with her statue outside and the truck parked but rumbling and ready. Firebrand went into the fireplace. I double-checked the anti-smoke spell on the chimney before I went into the workroom and checked on the sigil.
“Anybody home?”
No answer.
I held it in both hands and thought into it. Was there an echo? Perhaps. It might have been my imagination.
All right. My altar ego is in sorry shape. Comatose or dead, presumably, but it was possible he simply didn’t have the strength to respond. I can continue to work on an Orb-launch without him, or I can shift focus and see if I can bring him up to speed.
I could use an ally on the energy planes.
Can I find a computer in this town with a drafting program?
Yes. Yes, I can. True, the logon to the computer required a password, but I didn’t teach computer science without learning a thing or two. I pulled the hard drive, set it up as an auxiliary drive to a non-password-protected computer, and went poking around in the files. I reset the password so I wouldn’t have to take the machine apart again and put it back in the original machine. I started drafting designs for Diogenes’ full-scale divinity dynamo.
