Science and Sorcery

by Christopher Nuttall

  “You are requested to keep an eye on your schoolmates and report any signs of supernatural abilities to your teachers,” the headmaster continued. “Should you provide information leading to the vampire, you will be rewarded from a contingency fund the Mayor has set up to reward informers.”

  Bastard, Calvin thought. He could just imagine what was likely to happen; he’d be reported, purely for being an isolated nerd, someone who had never fitted in with his peers. The NYPD would take a look at him for all the wrong reasons, but that wouldn't save him from discovery. Harrow had taught him how to conceal himself, yet she’d warned that it needed practice. It didn’t help that he had no one to practice on.

  “I would ask you to spend the next twenty minutes in contemplation,” the principal concluded. The assembly in Moe’s honour had swallowed up the first period anyway. “Thank you for attending.”

  Calvin stood up with the rest of the students and made his escape to the library. Normally, it served as a place of refuge, where he could throw himself headlong into fictional worlds that didn't include bullies and assholes who thought that raw strength made them better than everyone else, but Harrow had been urging him to study the modern world. He hadn't realised how ignorant he was about some things until Harrow had started pulling concepts from his mind. Entering the library, he nodded to the librarian – he hadn't bothered to attend the assembly, surprisingly – and walked over to the row of books on history. Selecting one, he carried it back to a seat and sat down to read. He’d already concluded that Harrow’s time was so far back in the past that nothing survived, apart from myths and legends. And those that had been told throughout the ages were badly garbled.

  He was immersed in a book about the Persian invasion of Greece when he heard several girls chattering in one corner. Looking up, he saw Marie and two of her girlfriends, dressed in surprisingly sober clothes. Maybe they’d intended to be decent for the assembly – he guessed that Moe’s parents had held a very limited funeral for the bastard – but it didn't stop a hot flush spreading through his body. He had watched them undressing and preparing for bed, rotating his spell so he could study every inch of their bodies. And he had watched one of them making out with her boyfriend. And he wanted more.

  Later, Harrow’s voice said, in his mind. He’d taken to hearing her more and more during his waking hours, although he wasn’t sure if she was real, or if he was just imagining it. She had said that she was growing stronger all the time, allowing her mind to roam further from wherever she was imprisoned. You do not wish to attract attention.

  Calvin hesitated. He knew spells for meddling with minds, spells that could make the girls fall in love with him, or simply do everything he told them to do. The temptation danced in front of his mind for a long moment; why shouldn't he treat them as slaves, when they’d treated him worse? But Harrow was right. Two magical incidents in the same school would draw attention. He’d have to be very careful the next time he used his powers so overtly.

  The bell rang and he stood up, returning the book to the shelves. It was difficult to tell, but it looked as though there had been traces of mana still in the world at the time, given the existence of oracles and even magician-priests. And that didn't include legends of Achilles or Hercules...Harrow had found them amusing, although Calvin hadn't been able to understand why until he’d looked at some of the really old stories. Marvel Comics had created a version of Thor that was a joke, compared to the terrible gods of old. Harrow had lived far closer to their era than anyone in the modern world. The gods, she’d said, had been creatures of raw chaos, driven by whims. They could never be trusted.

  Calvin was so wrapped up in his own thoughts as he walked to the next classroom that he was surprised when a hand shoved him into the wall. He started, running through the disciplines that Harrow had taught him to master pain, just as a fist slammed into his belly. Colin, one of Moe’s friends, stared down at him, mockingly.

  “I saw you smile during assembly,” he said, nastily. “How dare you smile when my friend died?”

  Calvin would have snorted, if he’d had enough breath left in his chest. Colin was just like Moe and all the others; any excuse would do to beat up on someone, or perhaps he simply wouldn't bother with an excuse if none seemed available. He glanced around quickly, seeing no one; even if he had, no one would come to his aid. Colin was big and strong and nasty...and Calvin was just a nerd. Who cared what happened to a nerd?

  He could have killed Colin easily, he knew. The power that had incinerated three of his enemies rose up within him, brushing aside the pain. But a fourth student dying in fire...he might as well have put up an advertisement, daring the NYPD to catch him. Colin gripped his neck, threatening to strangle him, and stared into Calvin’s eyes. And it was the easiest thing in the world for Calvin to reach out with a different spell and assert dominance over the bully. He had a very weak mind.

  Calvin fought down the temptation to really fuck with Colin’s mind. “Listen,” he hissed, as Colin’s grip on his throat eased. “You will carry out these orders. Every day, you will find one of your friends and beat him up. You will hit him until he is bruised, and then leave him lying on the ground. No one will be allowed to stop you. You will forget that I have given you these orders, but you will carry them out. Oh, and you will never touch me again.”

  He watched as Colin stumbled backwards, his eyes slightly defocused The spell was used for slamming suggestions into a person’s head, according to Harrow, but it did have its weaknesses. Someone with a thoughtful bent would start questioning their own actions, eventually breaking the spell completely, even if they didn't realise what had happened to them. But Colin, like Moe, wasn't exactly known for his smarts. He’d keep beating up his friends unless physically restrained by the NYPD.

  Unwise, Harrow’s voice said, as he walked away. Colin would be back to normal, at least on the surface, within seconds. His actions may attract attention.

  Calvin snorted. “One bully beating up others?” He asked, quietly. “No one will think anything of it.”

  The maths classroom was, as always, crammed with students. For some reason, probably something to do with money, the school had never been able to hire more than a couple of mathematics teachers, forcing them both to take oversized classes. Naturally, their ability to keep discipline was very limited. Calvin sat at the front, knowing that it wasn't enough to save him from spit balls and other nasty tricks, and tried to read his textbook. His thoughts were elsewhere.

  Lunch came and Calvin struggled his way through it, before returning to the library again and trying to read. Unsurprisingly, some of the other nerds were also in the library, discussing role-playing games at great volume. They should have been his friends, Calvin knew, but he had been Moe’s punching bag. No one had wanted to be too close to him, for fear that the scent of helpless pussy – or whatever – would rub off on them.

  “This wizard casts a cool spell to summon entities made of shadow,” one of the nerds said. “Maybe we can get that to work.”

  Calvin felt a moment of absolute disbelief, before cursing himself for not having thought of it first. There were thousands of different fantasy role-playing games involving magic and magical creatures – and if anyone would try to get their spells to work, it would be the nerds who played them regularly. Calvin was hardly the only one to be picked on by ignorant jocks who valued strength over brains. Maybe he could teach them a few simple spells...

  No, Harrow said, firmly. You need to concentrate on your primary mission. After that, you may seek out apprentices if you wish.

  “I could get them to distract anyone who might be interested in us,” Colin subvocalised. “If they start casting spells too...”

  It will attract attention, Harrow said. Patience.

  Calvin scowled, but obeyed. He was grateful to Harrow, even though there were times when it was clear that she had come from a very different culture. And besides, if he started sharing what he knew, other magicians would have
a chance to match or even surpass him. It might be nice to have proper friends, particularly if he taught them a bully-repelling ward, but it could wait. After she was released, Calvin could do whatever he wanted. And if that happened to include having friends...

  He skimmed through the rest of the history book, glancing at the pages. Harrow, he knew, could pull memories out of his mind, even if he wasn't truly aware of them. Besides, he had a suspicion that there were few threads between Harrow’s time and the modern day. Why, the book he'd consulted for legends of Atlantis, once the magical capital of the world and home to thousands of magicians, placed it somewhere near Greece. The author didn't seem to have considered that it might be somewhere in the Atlantic, dominating the trade routes between Europe and North America. And now it was gone, buried so deeply beneath the waves that the ruins had never been discovered.

  I took my apprenticeship in Atlantis, Harrow said. Oddly, she sounded melancholy. The city was the wonder of the world. There were great towering buildings, held aloft by magic, and trolls and elves to do our bidding. Ships from all over the world would come to bring us goods, trading for our knowledge of magic. Mighty dragons would come to Atlantis to be tamed into servitude by magic, then carry sorcerers through the air to wage war on their rivals. The priests would chant prayers to placate the gods as we sorcerers plotted to steal their power. Life was good.

  “I’m sorry,” Calvin whispered. A strange sense of loss ran through his mind. “We can rebuild Atlantis.”

  There was a faint flicker of bitter amusement. It won’t be necessary, Harrow informed him. Once we are free, the world will not need Atlantis. We carry the knowledge with us wherever we go.

  She refused to say anything more as the bell rang again, summoning children for afternoon classes. Calvin walked to the classroom – this time without incident – and stepped inside, catching sight of several other girls chattering away in a corner. He’d seen them naked too; absently, he wondered what would happen if he walked up to Charley and told her that he knew she had a mole on her left buttock. She’d probably scream and accuse him of peeking into their changing room during PE, or perhaps hiding a spy camera somewhere in the school. He doubted that she would ever learn the truth.

  Calvin winced inwardly as Sandra walked past him, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. She was gorgeous, he saw, now that he had sated his appetite for breasts and thighs. Her mother had been Japanese, her father American, blending the two ethnic groups together into one flawless whole. Long dark hair framed a perfect face, almond-shaped eyes and a smile that would have been enchanting, if she hadn't looked worried. Something was clearly bothering the girl. Maybe, as a mixed-race child, she would become one of the Changed. Most of them were mixed-race.

  The thought wasn't a reassuring one. Panic was sweeping the nation. Parents were pulling their children out of school until the administrators could provide proof that none of their students were Changed – and that, Calvin knew, was impossible. A person didn't Change until his body had built up enough of a mana charge to support the Change, something that could take days – or much longer. It would all depend on factors completely outside human control.

  Sandra took a seat near the front of the class – if she was aware of his scrutiny, she didn't show it – as the teacher entered the room. Miss Parson was better at keeping order than the other teachers; Calvin liked her, just because he could relax slightly in her classroom. Besides, he felt much more confident now. He listened to her lecture absently, keeping one eye on Sandra as she took notes silently. The girl definitely caused a reaction in the growing mana field, even if it didn't seem to have manifested yet.

  Indeed she does, Harrow said. I think that she would be a suitable subject, don’t you?

  Calvin blinked and rapidly subvocalised. “A suitable subject for what?”

  She has mana without control or focus, Harrow said. A reserve of power we can use, without anything that might make her dangerous. There was a long chilling pause. You are going to use her as the first of the three sacrifices.

  Calvin blinked in shock, almost speaking out loud. “Three sacrifices?”

  To build up mana quickly requires sacrifice, Harrow informed him. In order to free us from our prison, you will need more mana than you can muster on your own. We will start working on containment exercises tonight.

  “But...” Calvin caught himself. “I’m not going to murder someone who didn't do me any harm.”

  It is far too late to retreat, Harrow said. There was a cold inevitability flowing through her thoughts, tinged with a very faint amusement. You have gone too far.

  And Calvin knew that she was right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  New York, USA

  Day 19

  “Hey, Matt,” a voice called. “I heard you were a big-shot at Fart, Barf and Itch!”

  Matt had to smile as Officer Daniels waddled up behind him. Daniels wasn't that overweight but he somehow managed to give the impression of a lazy policeman who spent more time eating doughnuts than he did chasing suspects. It was a mystery how he managed to pass the fitness requirements for officers on active duty, but he was good with people. Matt had watched him track down a wanted killer by simply asking the right questions.

  “They’ve got me here chasing the vampire,” he said, without going into details. Golem had said that he was a Hunter, but he didn't feel like anything special. “What about you?”

  “Keeping an eye on the sales,” Daniels said. He waved a hand at the shops – and the stalls established outside the shops, probably in violation of some law. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

  Matt hadn't. The existence of one vampire had naturally led to rumours that there were others, perhaps a whole vampire nest out of bad movies and worse nightmares. New Yorkers were responding to the crisis by stocking up on garlic, silver crosses and holy water, paying vast sums of money just to buy a little protection. One of the stalls was selling water pistols, each one costing a hundred dollars, and bottles of water that had been sanctified by a priest as ammunition. No one was quite sure if it would actually work – Golem had explained that there were several different strains of vampire, each with their own laws – but the dealers were raking in the money. Beside them, there were a dozen stalls offering Italian stew, heavily laced with garlic. The signs beside the stalls promised that a meal a day would keep the vampires away, with a smaller note indicating that anyone who wanted to claim their money back had to report in person. It wasn't particularly funny, Matt knew. Anyone who came to claim his money back might have become one of the undead.

  “My brother lives up in Idaho,” he said, shaking his head. “He sells guns – or he would, if he had any left. There’s such a massive backlog of requests for guns and ammunition that it may be weeks before he gets more stock in from the manufactures. Apparently, there’s a blacksmith from the SCA who has been melting down silver and using it to produce bullets.”

  “Silver bullets,” Daniels mused. “For werewolves, I presume?”

  Matt nodded. The military had already thought of the concept, although it had taken time to convince the manufacturing plant to start producing the bullets. Right now, the guards at the base holding the werewolves all had silver bullets in their guns, while others had been distributed all over the country, particularly in Fort Hood. No one had caught the werewolf that had bitten Joe Buckley.

  He rolled his eyes as he looked at the stalls. “I’m surprised that you haven't been given orders to shut this lot down already,” he said. “I remember when we had to arrest a pair of kids for selling homemade lemonade. Made us look like jackbooted thugs.”

  Daniels snorted. “Our beloved Mayor is suddenly in political hot water,” he said. “Too many people think that there’s a vampire or werewolf lurking behind every tree, so the word has come down from City Hall. We’re not to do anything about these stalls, or about the makeshift weapons...I’m not actually sure what we’re supposed to do about people bringing in weapons f
rom other states. Turn a blind eye, I suppose.”

  He looked up at Matt. “What the fuck happened to your eye?”

  Matt scowled. “I tripped and fell down the stairs,” he said, tightly. “But I’m perfectly fine.”

  Daniels knew that he was lying, but he didn't press the issue, thankfully. Matt didn't want to have to tell him that Golem, whose mere existence was supposed to remain secret, had been so convinced that Matt was a Hunter that he'd convinced Matt to test himself against one of the Navy SEALs who had been assigned to guard the complex. The SEAL had knocked him down in thirty seconds, somehow leaving Matt with the impression that he’d held back. It hadn't been very reassuring.