“So tell me, convince me we are related.”
“Well, we’re distant cousins at best, but that’s good enough for royalty, so why not us?”
“Get on with it.” Growled John.
“Well, this goes back to the turn of the century, all the players are long dead. I found a lot of journals and old letters to fill in the blanks, I’ll give them to you later if you like. Anyways, your great-great really great grandfather was my really great grandmother's brother. One of them anyway, and they were being trained to be mages by our extremely great grandmother, their mother. She had inherited the Primer from her father, and so on, I can’t find proof, but there are hints that we are related to a Templar Knight who stole it in the holy land-”
John groaned.
“What? Lost the believability already?”
“No, just sick of Templar conspiracy theories.”
“You watch too much YouTube, perhaps you should read a book or two.” With a smile, Finley spat his gum in the trash and unwrapped a fresh piece, dropping the wrapper on the floor. “So they were both being trained as mages, and there was only one Primer, according to family tradition, there could only be one heir. One would live, and the other would die by their brother's hand.”
“Typical.”
“I know, right? So our ancestors were not just brothers, they were brothers who actually liked each other. They tried to convince their mother that they could share and that there was no need to kill each other. But, you know how hard it is for people to give up their old ways, and her ways tended to be cruel from what I’ve read. They were supposed to fight it out when the youngest turned thirteen. So the night before the faithful day, they stole the Primer and ran away. Their charming mother hunted them down and caught up with one of them as they were sailing across the Channel to France. She sank the boat. It was a small cargo ship. She killed thirty men, including her own son.”
“Brutal.”
“Please, let me tell the story in my own dramatic way. It’s our history after all, and there should be a bit of drama and reverence for it.”
“Get it over with. But, if you tell me that Jack the ripper was in on it...”
“When I was doing my research, I was hoping for Spring-Heeled Jack myself, but that would be exciting too.”
“Spring-Heeled who? Finley, get on with it.”
“So anyways their mother searched for the missing brother, and never found him. She returned home and started training their sister, her only daughter, my relative in this sordid tale. Since there was no Primer, it was harder to learn, but the family had an extensive library of other works that, with great work and practice, made up for it. Years later, the mother declared her daughter, Margaret, trained. Immediately after the ceremony, Margaret murdered her mother to bring justice to her brothers and as revenge for countless other cruelties heaped upon others. It was only afterward when Margaret read her mother's journal that she realized one of her brothers survived. Margaret had been told simply that her brothers were dead, and the Primer had been lost or stolen. So at great expense, she hired detectives to find her remaining brother, but she never did. And, so we come to you and me, standing here in this dirty lavatory reuniting the family after generations.”
“What do you need the Primer for?”
“Need? Well, other than the fact that it was stolen-“
“Yeah, skip that. I think we can make a fair argument that the brothers were the rightful owners as much as-“
“Not at a Conclave, the law is fairly clear.”
“There won’t be any more of those here.” John smiled.
“Yes, I’ve heard there was a revolution brewing here, and that you were mixed up in it somehow. You should be careful, the old families aren’t ignoring what you’re doing here.”
“Another threat for another day, what do you really want the Primer for?”
“I’ve been researching the history of mages and magic, made it my life’s work. I’ve found an old text, stone carvings that date back tens of thousands of years, that indicate there is a code hidden somewhere in the Primers.”
“A code for what? And how does a carving so much older than the Primers tell you that?” Was he talking about the message?
“The carvings I found were partially ruined. The writings that lead me there dated to the same era as the Primers. It also suggested that more had been preserved.”
“I’ve read it cover to cover, it’s interesting stuff, but I didn’t see any code.”
“It’s a code damn it! Do you expect it to be there in the open?” Finley paused and regained his composure. “I just need to inspect it to see if I can find the code, then I’ll leave you in peace. Please, this is my life’s work!”
“What does the code say?”
“If I knew I wouldn’t need a Primer, would I?”
“I’ll think about it.” John wasn’t sure what to believe, but for the moment, he didn’t have to make up his mind.
“I suppose I can’t ask for more, without making this… unpleasant.” Finley shrugged and gently started cleaning his glasses.
“Yeah, stay away from the threats, you just aren’t scary enough.” John turned and quickly removed Finley’s pattern from the lock before leaving the bathroom.
Later that evening, John teleported to Conrad’s old warehouse on the Southside of Chicago. It felt more like home than his studio at times, and John still slept there from time to time. John had taken the time to brick over the insides of the door and the large doors on the docks, then fused the cinder blocks to each other. The only way in was to teleport, though John suspected that a large explosive would do the trick, he didn’t have to worry about that, or did he? He hoped not.
John opened and booted his laptop, waiting quietly while the machine worked. Once it was ready, he opened a browser then went to a site that advertised heavily about searching family trees and finding lost relatives. He set up an account and hesitantly gave it all the personal information it asked for, then his father's and his mother’s. A message appeared that said it would search available records and email him when it had results. John supposed it was too much to hope for quick results, but couldn’t imagine what it would have been like trying to do a search like that without the internet. The idea brought to mind old-time detectives in long coats with fedoras searching cross country for missing birth certificates.
He was not content with waiting, but there was little he could do. He opened his stock trading program and let the numbers and lines play across the screen, replaying everything from the last few years. It wasn’t that he had investments dating that far back, it just helped him ‘see’ more clearly what might happen. While usually, any mage could predict random outcomes, even they had limits. The result of nearly infinite variables in an unstable system like the stock market was a clear example of those limits. That didn’t mean John couldn’t make predictions. He could see fields of probability that got wider and less accurate the further he looked into their trajectory. Sometimes those told him nothing. Other times all the possibilities went up or down, and he could make his assumptions based on that. He had made money, lots of money, by merely avoiding downward trends.
Now, as he looked days and weeks out, he saw something that disturbed him, something he had never seen before. Each and every stock turned down sharply just a few days out, even ones that had only last week been going up. The only shares going up were ones that John was unfamiliar with. But it only took a few quick keystrokes to find out that most of them were companies with military contracts. John made a few quick sales but didn’t buy any stocks, he dumped his funds into several accounts for the moment, he’d rather pay the taxes than buy shares tied to war profits.
John paced the warehouse pondering what he’d seen. People had been telling him that their efforts to change mage society were drawing attention, causing problems. But a war? A war that concerned everyday people? A lot of mages still saw ordinary people as peasants or fools to be controlled,
but were there still those that saw them as cannon fodder?
Stopping John considered that he might be blowing things out of proportion. There could be any number of reasons why military contractors would prosper while others didn’t. A natural disaster, a terrorist attack, or any number of other unpleasant things that could turn the world upside down. John felt uneasy with every possibility and tried to convince himself that he was wrong, that he was just nervous and had made a mistake. Either way, he’d mention it to Conrad when he saw him.
Chapter 9
Special Agent Christine Harris sat near the edge of the reflecting pool at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial. She had her eyes closed behind her sunglasses and was focusing on controlling and slowing her breathing. Unlike others, she was unimpressed by the monuments around her. Christine respected them and honored them as part of her countries heritage, but she was unimpressed. She couldn’t say why it was just something that she accepted about herself. She continued counting heartbeats as she breathed deep and even, enjoying the moment while she waited.
“Outfield to all agents, the ball is in play, over.” Christine didn’t acknowledge the message that came over her earpiece, she didn’t have too. It was one of the few advantages of being under surveillance, one of the very few. She opened her eyes and let her breathing slowly accelerate just slightly, she didn’t want to be groggy for the meeting. There hadn’t been a memo about not meditating while on assignment, and she didn’t want to ruin one of the few zen moments she could steal.
“Agent Harris.”
“I told you to stop calling me that in public, John.” They must have teleported in close without being spotted.
“It’s not like I’m going to blow your cover.”
“No, John, but it is poor form.” Conrad scolded. “Good morning Christine, how are you?”
“I’m good, Conrad, and you?” Christine stood up and shook hands with Conrad, pointedly ignoring John.
“I’m doing well. Before we begin, we have some questions, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” Christine was suddenly concerned that perhaps one of their mages had gone rouge, or that one of her agents had been compromised.
“Are there any major military operations about to happen, or imminent threats?” Conrad stated the question in the same way he might ask what was for lunch.
“I have no idea. You know how things work.” She looked at Conrad and wondered what he was doing. He had to know how things worked that every word of these meetings was recorded and scrutinized. That just that question would generate great concern and send people in far and distant pay grades into fits. “There are some things I’m not told.”
“I know, but several mages have noticed… Things.”
“Such as?”
“A major economic downturn for everyone, except military contractors.” John looked at her even more coldly than usual.
“I thought mages couldn’t see the future.”
“We can’t, but there are some things that point the way. Patterns in the stock markets are one of them.” Said Conrad evenly. “I would rather be able to read the headlines a day ahead, but it’s better than nothing.”
“I’ll ask, but you know I won’t be able to tell you anything.”
“If it’s serious enough, you will be told to tell us or ask us to interfere with it.” Conrad said confidently. “Either way, these are the last two names we need to be pressured, and we have a third that we need information on.” Christine accepted and opened the envelope Conrad handed her. “Finley? Possible British citizen, blond hair, glasses, thin, mage, possibly an archaeologist… What? You can’t get me a picture or a bad sketch?”
“No.” Said John. “He’s been making trouble in Chicago for me, he’s after a Primer and knows about Peter. He said he’d spoken with Peter.”
“Peter is under surveillance in New York. All he does is go to work, drink heavily, and waste his money on expensive call girls. But, I’ll check it out. What else do you have for me?”
“Here.” John handed her several typed sheets. “Stay out of Southern California and get some disaster relief ready.”
“Earthquake?”
“Yeah, within a week or so. There are also some other minor events, but that’s the big headline.”
“I’ll make sure we put it to use.” Christine folded the papers and carefully put them in her purse. “I’ve been told that you can expect a visit from the Europeans.”
“From European mages?” John looked at Conrad quickly.
“Yeah.” Christine nodded. “Is there going to be trouble with them?”
“It was inevitable that other mages would become curious, perhaps even upset, about what we’re doing here.” Conrad spoke as he pushed a small leaf around with his cane.
“Our agreement isn’t even formal, and it comes close to breaking a lot of laws, on both sides.” Christine thought back to watching John and Veronica destroy a park during their fight. That had been two mages only focused on killing each other, within the strict bounds of tradition, what happened when those traditions were removed? War was hell enough, but a war with power-crazed supernatural egomaniacs? Christine suppressed a shudder.
“Our agreement is going to have to change soon anyway, we’re done getting people to agree to a meeting.” Christine could always count on John to slip and say something he wasn’t supposed to.
“Whatever feathers we’ve ruffled, will be smoothed out soon enough. I’ll be in touch soon, Christine. Take care of yourself.”
“Thank you, Conrad, and you do the same.” She watched them turn to leave and felt uneasy as they walked away. “John!”
“Yes.” He stopped and looked back at her, she could read his open contempt for her on his face.
“We’ve got a rough history, but we have a lot ahead of us. We’re both going to need every friend we can find, so you and I better start smoothing this over. I hope you realize that I was doing what had to be done, what I thought was right. I’m sure that you were doing the same thing. So how about the benefit of the doubt once in a while?”
John looked out over the reflecting pond for a moment before speaking. “Radha keeps telling me that same thing, that I should be nicer to you. I’ll try to listen to her more often.”
John turned and walked away with Conrad. Christine was surprised by John’s response was it possible he might grow up? She had no illusions about where her loyalties were or what her duties were, but she liked Conrad. John, he was too impulsive and too quick to act without thinking. As soon as the two mages were out of sight, her cell phone rang.
“This is Harris.”
“They didn’t block the audio this time, but they fried every camera in the mall.” The voice on the other end of her phone had a strange mix of emotions playing through it.
“We’ll send them a bill this time.”
“Yes, ma’am. The science guys are going nuts though, they got good readings this time.”
“Good, tell them to keep it simple when they write their report. I’ll check in after I brief the Wizard.” Christine hung up and started walking up the path to the street. She passed tourists and locals and was tempted to imagine what it was like to live in a simple, safe, and uncomplicated world. Were they aware of those who stood watch over them, and if they were, would they appreciate it? Or, resent it?
She stood on the curb for less than a heartbeat before a nondescript minivan pulled up, the door opened, and she stepped in. The door slid shut as the van slipped away from the curb. Christine said nothing to the driver or other agents, she wasn’t supposed to, they were her escort and nothing more. She kept her eyes out the window as they meandered through the heavy traffic, slowly making their way to a parking garage on the edge of the mall. They parked in the basement, and she was quickly ushered through an unmarked door and down some stairs to a security station. She was photographed, went through a body scanner, and asked to hand over her service weapon and phone. Once that was completed, she w
as lead by a different set of guards down a long hallway to an unmarked wooden door. Her guard knocked once and was told to send her in by a voice on the other side.
She stepped into the office beyond, saw that the Wizard was talking on a cell phone, and stood there quietly waiting. He was a large man, not merely overweight, but tall and broad. He was dark-skinned, and that made his gray hair and beard all the more prominent, and under the gray hairs were half-hidden scars. The desk was an expanse between them, made more so by its emptiness, there wasn’t even dust on it. There was only the single chair in front of it, no bookcases in the room, no pictures, nothing but dark wood paneling.
“No, she’s here now. Call me when you get back, I have another job for you.” The Wizard hung up his phone, and polity indicated the chair for Christine to sit in.
“Thank you, sir.”
“For a change of pace, I was able to listen in to the conversation, so there is no need to bring me up to speed. What do you make about that stock crash nonsense?” The Wizard steepled his fingers and looked at Christine intently.
“I think it was as much a warning as anything else, John can be careless, but never Conrad.”
“I would suspect that it has more to do with them than us.”
“The European mages?”
“They aren’t just nervous, they’ve had several Conclaves about these rebels-“
“Rebels?”
“They’re tearing down an old government and replacing it with their own, one that won’t follow the rules of the others, they are the very definition of rebels. Anyways, there is going to be trouble very soon, and if those two aren’t careful, they’re going to start a war.”
“I could have told them more if you had given me more information.”
The Sin of Moloch Page 6
