Seams in Reality

by Alex Siegel

  When the waitress was gone, Blake said, "Wait a second. A couple of apprentices beat a full-blown banshee?"

  Charley nodded. "Andrew did most of the heavy lifting."

  Blake looked at Andrew with an expression of respect. "Wow. It's a shame your grandfather didn't live to see this day. He would've been astonished."

  Andrew smiled a little.

  Charley finished her report.

  "Serkan's behavior was peculiar," Blake said when she was done. "Keene isn't my friend, but I have to admit he knows how to train an apprentice. It's hard to believe he would screw up so badly with Serkan."

  Tonya raised her eyebrows. "For once, we agree."

  Dan entered the restaurant holding a stack of papers. He looked at the sorcerers at one table and the BPI agents at another. He gave the papers to Tonya and went to join his colleagues at their table.

  Tonya flipped through the stack. "This is interesting. Serkan bought a gun two weeks ago. We should visit the gun shop and see if they remember anything. That will be our first stop."

  "Why would he need a gun?" Andrew said.

  "Only two possible reasons," Blake said. "He was afraid of being killed, or he wanted to kill somebody. The latter is more likely in this case. Of course, the advantage of a gun is it doesn't require a seam."

  Nobody spoke for a moment.

  "I think we should also have another conversation with those fake sorcerers in Atlanta," Blake added. "They were close to Jennifer, and she was close to Serkan. That seems like our best lead."

  "I suppose it can't hurt," Tonya said.

  * * *

  Andrew parked the limousine in front of the RapidFire Shooting Range. It was a low, wide building in the outskirts of Atlanta. The walls were made of red brick, and there were few windows. The parking lot needed to be repaved.

  Blake's blue sedan pulled up next to the limousine. Tonya still didn't want to share her ride with him which was fine by Andrew.

  Four sorcerers and three BPI agents got out of their respective cars. It was an unwieldy group, and Andrew wondered if they should split up to cover more ground. With Blake around, it was probably safer to stay together though.

  They entered a spacious, well-lit gun shop. Larger guns hung on hooks behind the counter, and they were predominantly shotguns and hunting rifles. Smaller arms were neatly arranged in glass cases. Auxiliary items such as cleaning supplies, hunting clothes, ear protection, gun cases, and holsters were on shelves in the middle of the floor.

  Andrew knew how to handle a gun safely. His father had taken him to a range in his hometown several times. Shooting was fun, but Andrew didn't like the noise or the smell of gunpowder. Hitting a target accurately was a lot harder than it looked like in the movies.

  Tonya went straight to a clerk at the counter. "We need information about a man who bought a gun here two weeks ago. His name was Serkan Kaba."

  "Who are you?" the clerk said.

  He was a tall, skinny man with bad acne scars. He was wearing an Atalanta Braves T-shirt with a tomahawk logo on the chest.

  "Federal agents. Dan, show him your badge."

  Agent Dan took out his wallet and showed his BPI badge.

  The clerk frowned. "What did this Serkan guy do?"

  "That's none of your business," Tonya said. "Do you remember him?"

  "No, but I'll get the owner."

  The clerk went into the back room and returned with another man. The owner had impressively long blond hair and a beard which went down to the middle of his chest. He was wearing a gun belt with guns in holsters on both hips. He looked ready for a shootout.

  Tonya spoke with the owner, but he didn't remember Serkan either. After a lengthy argument about search warrants and the Fourth Amendment, the owner agreed to show her surveillance footage of the gun purchase just to make her quiet.

  The owner took the group to his small office. Paperwork covered an old, wooden desk. A half-full bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey and two shot glasses were on top of a metal filing cabinet. A calendar on the wall had a picture of a hot girl in a bikini carrying two assault rifles.

  The owner went to a surveillance system in the corner of the office. He fiddled with the controls until he eventually found the right recording. He stepped back so everybody else could see.

  Andrew watched Serkan enter the store, glance to either side, and hurry to the counter. It was definitely Serkan, but he was nervous. He pointed to a small gun in a glass case without much thought.

  "What kind of gun is that?" Tonya said.

  "A Kel-Tec 9mm," the owner said. "Cheap and easy to conceal."

  Serkan bought a box of ammunition, but it was almost an afterthought. He paid for the purchase with a credit card.

  "That's weird," Andrew said.

  "What?" Tonya said.

  "He used a credit card instead of cash, but he knew the BPI was looking at his bank statements. That's kind of stupid, isn't it? I mean, the first rule of being sneaky is you pay in cash."

  "True. Did you find a gun on the body?"

  "We didn't search the body," he said. "Maybe we should've."

  "You had other things on your mind. I'm sure the BPI did. We'll check with them."

  The owner's eyes widened. "Hold on. The guy is dead?"

  Tonya nodded. "I suppose you could call it a suicide."

  On the video, Serkan left the gun store quickly. The entire recording was just ten minutes long.

  "Give us a minute alone, please," Tonya told the owner.

  He left the office. The sorcerers turned to each other.

  "Not the behavior of an honest man," Blake said.

  Tonya frowned. "It is a bit incriminating. There had to be a reason for the gun. Was Serkan afraid of something? Why didn't he tell Keene?"

  Nobody had an answer.

  "Is it time for a conversation with the fake sorcerers?" Blake said.

  "They won't be meeting in the park this early," Andrew said, "but maybe we can track down the leader. He called himself Storm-dubh."

  "Black Storm in Irish. A very dramatic name and certainly not his real one. The BPI must know his true identity after your encounter the other night. They're good about that sort of thing." Blake turned to Dan. "Right?"

  "I'll make a call," Dan said.

  * * *

  The navigation system in the limousine guided Andrew to a small apartment building in a poor neighborhood. According to information provided by the BPI, Storm-dubh's real name was Otis, and he lived on the ground floor of the building.

  Andrew parked, and the blue sedan pulled up next to him. Everybody got out.

  The apartment building was made of orange stucco. A rusty air-conditioning unit jutted out of every other window. A sign on the wall announced the building was a "gun-free zone."

  The group found the apartment with the right number, and Tonya knocked on the door.

  Storm opened the door a moment later. He had taken the gold loops out of his ears, but the flame tattoos around his right eye still gave him a barbaric look. A little black stubble covered his scalp. His black T-shirt had the slogan, "Tourist Season is Open," and it depicted a man wearing Hawaiian shorts being shot in the head. Storm only wore underwear below.

  "Otis," Tonya said, "so nice to meet you. Mind if we come in?"

  "Who are you?" Storm said. His eyes widened when he noticed Andrew and Charley. "I remember you!"

  Blake pushed him aside and entered the apartment. Everybody else followed.

  Andrew wrinkled his nose at an odor that reminded him of gym socks. The small apartment had a main room which served as a bedroom, kitchen, and living room. Only the bathroom was separate. Black curtains covered the two windows. A girl with brown hair was lying in the bed with the sheets pulled up to her chin. Andrew recognized her from the meeting in the park last night.

  Storm looked at the large group in his apartment. "What's going on?" he said uneasily.

  "Jennifer is dead," Tonya said, "and so is her boyfriend. We were hop
ing you could shed some light on the matter."

  "Dead?" He shook his head. "I don't know anything about it!"

  "Calm down. We're not accusing you. Did Jennifer mention anything to you? Think hard."

  He chewed his lip.

  Andrew walked over to a bookshelf. The titles included the Book of Soyga, Enochian Magic, and the Sinister Tradition.

  Blake joined Andrew at the bookshelf and grabbed the Satanic Bible. "I met the author of this." Blake held up the book.

  Storm looked over. "You met Anton LaVey?"

  "Yes. A perfect ass and a brute to women. Half of this book is nonsense he made up, and the other half is nonsense he plagiarized."

  "That's a great work!"

  "Before you put faith in something, understand where it came from." Blake tossed the book into a garbage can. "Now, we didn't come here to discuss Satanism. What did Jennifer tell you?"

  Storm glanced at his girlfriend in the bed. "You'd better be careful. I have powers."

  Blake sneered. "You wouldn't know a real sorcerer if one came up and tweaked your nose. Feel free to strike me down with your dark magic whenever you like. In the meantime, tell us what you know."

  "Um. There was one thing. She claimed her boyfriend knew about a book of spells."

  Tonya gave Storm a hard look. "What was that?" she said.

  "Her boyfriend was searching for a grimoire," he replied. "Jennifer bragged about it."

  "Did she tell you any specifics?"

  "No. It was a secret."

  "A poorly kept one," Tonya said.

  "Wait," Storm said. "There was one more thing. The book belonged to one of his ancestors."

  She raised her eyebrows in obvious surprise.

  "That's all. I swear. Please, leave me alone."

  She stared at him for a moment and then nodded. "OK. Thank you for your help."

  Tonya left the apartment, and everybody else followed. When she reached the parking lot, she stopped. Andrew was glad for a cool, fresh breeze on his face after the fetid air inside the apartment.

  "What was he talking about?" he said. "I didn't know sorcerers had spell books."

  Tonya glanced to either side. "We don't. Not really. But sometimes, sorcerers will try experimental techniques and record the results in a journal for later reference. It's a practice I strongly disapprove of."

  "Why?"

  "Because journals can easily fall into the wrong hands. Sorcery must be taught under controlled conditions by a qualified instructor. I have to be there in case you make a dangerous mistake. If you read it out of a book and try it on your own, you're likely to get yourself killed. The BPI collects all the journals and stores them in the vault."

  "Maybe that's what happened to Serkan," Andrew said. "He got his hands on an old journal, read something interesting, and gave it a shot."

  Tonya pursed her lips. "Maybe. Regardless, we need to find out everything we can about the journal. It could be the key to this entire mess."

  "I suggest talking to Serkan's parents," Blake said. "They might know the name of the ancestor who wrote it."

  "Yes. That's a good idea. I'll call Keene. He'll know where the parents live."

  Tonya took out her phone and made a call. She put it in speaker mode, and the other sorcerers crowded around.

  Keene's deep voice responded, "Yes?"

  "This is Tonya." She summarized the latest findings.

  "A gun?" Keene said. "I don't believe it. And the idea of a so-called 'spell book' is even more preposterous. If he came across anything like that, he would immediately bring it to me."

  "I'm sure, but we have to go where the evidence leads us. Where do his parents live?"

  "Marietta."

  * * *

  Andrew parked the limousine in front of a two-story green house with a two-car garage. Many tall trees provided pleasant shade, and there was a huge front porch. It was easy to imagine spending summer evenings on that porch sipping a cool drink. The house was set far back from a wide street, and the use of space struck him as a bit wasteful.

  The blue sedan containing Blake pulled up. Once again, everybody got out.

  Tonya faced the group. "They just lost their son. They won't appreciate a crowd in their home. I'm going in with just Andrew and Charley. Blake, wait out here, and the same for you guys." She looked at Dan and the other two BPI agents.

  The agents didn't appear to care, but Blake frowned. He opened his mouth as if to object, but then he closed it again.

  Tonya, Andrew, and Charley went to the front door. Tonya knocked.

  A woman answered. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Her brown hair was a mess. She was wearing blue jean coveralls with some dirt stains, and Andrew guessed she had been gardening when she had heard the news about her son.

  "Can I help you?" she said in a soft, broken voice.

  "Pamela Kaba? I'm Tonya. I'm very sorry about your son. We're friends of his, and we have a few questions."

  Pamela broke down and cried. The sorcerers waited patiently until she calmed down again. Eventually, Pamela invited them into her home.

  A middle-aged man came out of a back room. He was medium height, and he had the same round face and thick eyebrows as Serkan. He was wearing a nice blue jacket even though Andrew didn't see any reason to. The newcomer's eyes were also bloodshot.

  "What's going on?" he said.

  Tonya shook his hand. "You must be Serkan's father, Rifat. Glad to meet you. I'm deeply saddened by your loss."

  Andrew felt terrible for Serkan's parents. Andrew knew if he died, his own parents would be devastated.

  "I appreciate it," Rifat said. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Tonya, and my friends are Andrew and Charley. We knew your son when he worked at the Avanessian Institute. We're not satisfied with the official explanation for his death."

  "The police told us it was poison gas."

  "That's certainly the story," Tonya said. "Did you talk to Serkan recently? Do you know what was going on in his life?"

  "He visited a few weeks ago. He had a very pretty girl with him. Why? What do you think happened to him?"

  Tonya glanced at Andrew and Charley meaningfully.

  "I'd rather not go into specifics at this time," Tonya said. "We don't want to start dangerous rumors without evidence. Did Serkan happen to mention an ancestor during his visit?"

  Pamela nodded. "My great-great-grandfather. He fought in the United States Army during World War I."

  "I thought Serkan's family was from Turkey."

  "Rifat is from Turkey. My ancestors have lived in the South since before the Civil War. I still have some World War I memorabilia in a box. Serkan spent a lot of time looking at it during his visit."

  Tonya's eyes gleamed with interest. "May we take a look?"

  "Sure," Pamela said, "but I don't know what that has to do with anything."

  They walked through the home. The furniture was plain and comfortable. The nicer items were antiques, and they included a mirror with a golden frame and a hutch with glass windows.

  Pamela led the sorcerers into the basement. "Sorry about the mess," she said. "We weren't expecting company."

  Old furniture, cardboard boxes, and broken appliances filled the small space. Reminds me of my attic back home, Andrew thought. Pamela found an antique footlocker amid the mess.

  "You think this has something to do with Serkan's death?" she said.

  "It might," Tonya said.

  She opened the footlocker. It contained a green uniform, but some kind of insect had eaten holes in the cloth. There was a German helmet with a spike on top, a semi-automatic rifle with a broken stock, a cap, and many other items.

  Andrew grabbed a wooden box and opened it. He found a neat row of medals on colorful ribbons, but the metal was a little tarnished.

  "Your ancestor was a fine soldier," he said.

  "That's why we kept his stuff," Pamela said. "My family still makes a pilgrimage to his grave once a year."

  Tonya dug
deeper into the collection. She found some framed photographs, but they had faded so badly, they were just ghosts on yellowed paper.

  She grew excited when she discovered a glass jewel box full of letters. She took the bundle of letters out of the box and skimmed through them.

  "Anything?" Charley said.

  "Love letters to a woman named Victoria," Tonya said. "Typical mushy stuff. Makes me gag."

  "Jealous?"

  "A little. It's not like I've never had a man in my life. They just didn't last long. There are certain practical problems when it comes to dating a woman like me."

  Andrew didn't have to think hard about what some of those problems might be. The life of a master sorcerer was complicated.

  Andrew spotted another letter in the footlocker. It was wedged between a trench knife and a shovel as if it had fallen there.

  He grabbed the letter, opened it, and read it out loud. "'Dearest Victoria, Edward and I found the most remarkable book today. We were searching a burned house in Cologne, and we discovered a brick vault in the basement. The heat of the fire had cracked the bricks, permitting us convenient entry. Oddly, the vault contained clocks, puzzles, and children's toys as if they were items of great value. There was also a book describing experiments of a dark and mysterious nature. In my heart I believe they were notes written by a wizard. I argued with Edward at great length about who should possess the book. I'm afraid to admit we came to blows. I won ownership of the book at the cost of my friendship with Edward, but such a unique manuscript seemed worth the price. This matter may not be fully settled however.'"

  "That's strange," Pamela said. "I never saw that letter before."

  "It wasn't in the jewel box," Andrew said.

  "Still, I had thought I'd seen them all."

  Tonya dug into the footlocker. "I don't see a book."

  "I don't think there was one," Pamela said.

  "You're sure?"

  "I've had all the items in that footlocker appraised for insurance purposes, and there was never any book."

  Tonya furrowed her brow.