by T S Paul
Mundanes. “Yes, agent. A unicorn. Well-to-do Witches ride them. It’s a status thing. So the unicorn shows up. All the other girls scream and want to pet it. The mothers are very jealous and fawned all over Camilla for such a rare gift. Which is what she wanted to happen. My mother barely noticed. She was still recovering and was very quiet that day. Even though it was my party, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to sit with my mother and talk. She had been sick for so long and I missed having her aware of me. Camilla could not leave it alone and had to have a spectacle.”
“What happened? You file says you lost control, but not the details.”
“My magic is… lopsided. Simple things I can do without any problem.” I pointed at his two pens on top of my file. I spoke the word ‘lifa.’ The two pens grew legs and stood up. Speaking the word ‘víg’, I had them begin to fight each other. Agent Grimes stared at his pen and pencil set as they began to wrestle each other on the table. I let them fight for a moment and said ‘létta.’ They went back to being pens and just lay there. The agent carefully picked them up with two fingers and examined them.
“I can start fires, move things, and change my appearance quite easily. It is the larger things that cause issues. Bad or unexpected things can happen. At the party I yelled at my aunt and uncle. I didn’t want a unicorn, I wanted a pony. I wanted one more than a stupid unicorn.” A muffled cry could be heard for a moment.
The agent looked around puzzled. “Did you hear that?”
I ignored his question and tried to finish the stupid story. “I screamed and cried and demanded they take the unicorn away and just bring me a pony. Camilla and Harrison refused and began to argue with me over it. Remember, I was seven years old. So I turned and zapped it. To this day I couldn’t tell you what spell I used. I truly think I made one up. There was a bright flash of light and the unicorn began talking! He was not just talking he was cursing. Cursing me and everyone else he found. Parents freaked out, the kids all screamed and cried, and my mother fainted dead away. Camilla starting to yell at me as she checked on mother. She was berating me for being such a terrible daughter. I was so upset I turned to the talking unicorn and zapped him again trying to fix it. At the time I had zero formal training. Both magic surges were off-the-cuff which is highly dangerous for the unwary.”
“What happened? Did you fix it?”
Reaching into my pocket I pulled out Fergus. “What am I some kind of show-and-tell experiment now?” The unicorn looked at the agent. “What are you looking at? Never see a micro unicorn before?”
“That would be no. John, I created Fergus here. He acts as my familiar. One of these days I just know I will remember what I did and change him back to normal. He stays with me just in case that happens.”
“That’s one of the reasons. The other involves a freaking huge ass cat that thinks I’m a chew toy!” The unicorn freaked himself out and began looking for Zeus.
“But you still have magic right?”
“Oh, yeah. The council thought Fergus was humorous. They liked the squirrels too.”
“Those I have seen.” He was watching Fergus move around not totally believing in unicorns. “Can you control it, the bad magic?”
“Sort of. I try not to do large spells or make up stuff. For the most part nothing happens. I’ve only zapped inanimate objects lately. So my control is improving some.”
“Well, overpowered or not, we both want and need you. Would you like to go to the Academy this week? I have to ask.”
“Yes! If you will still take me.”
He stood up and picked up his files and pen set. I expect that the set might wind up in the trash. Mundanes can be funny that way. “Your grandmother has the admissions packet. Registration and classes start next weekend. We have a dorm room with your name on it. There is a pool for room registration so I don’t know who or what you might get as a roommate.”
“Cool! I’ve never shared a room before, well except for Fergus.”
“Great. We look forward to seeing you.” He took one last look around the room and went out the front door. There was a big black suburban sitting in the rotunda driveway. I watched him leave then went in search of Grandmother. We had a lot of planning to get started on.
Chapter 3
Packing was easy. The FBI was going to supply all my clothing and basic personal needs. All I needed to bring was what they called personal items. No outside electronics were allowed. According to the information Agent Grimes left, I was allowed to bring spell components and necessary ‘witch stuff’. Both grandmother and I got a huge laugh at that. I actually said ‘witch stuff!’ We struggled over what to bring and what would fit in my small suitcases. Finally, fed up with the whole process, grandmother called someone. She somehow obtained approval for me to bring whatever and as much as I needed or wanted. The FBI had never had a real Witch recruit before. It was as much a learning experience for them as for me. I hope they have good insurance. Because shit just got real!
“Did you pack my stall? How about my feeding trough?” Stupid of me to think the car ride would be fun. Fergus spent the first hour complaining. Now he had moved on to what I packed.
“You watched me pack your stuff, Fergus. Chill out! Grandmother gave us money. I can buy you a replacement if we forgot something. I doubt that is even possible since it feels like we have the entire house following us.” I glanced over my shoulder at the panel truck following us. I would be learning to control my magic so I would need various supplies. Grandmother insisted that I bring everything. She actually convinced the FBI to give me a portion of both a greenhouse and one of their labs for all the stuff. We grew all our own spell components. Grandmother didn’t trust the prepackaged stuff. If she didn’t like it neither did I. Trust your instincts is one of her mantras.
I was originally supposed to fly but grandmother suggested I travel with the truck. Much of what we packed was extremely valuable and hard to find. Losing it from mishandling or theft would not aid me in my studies. The trip was longer, but for someone who rarely left the boundaries of Blackbriar Heights it was marvelous. I was constantly pointing out landmarks and mundane stuff like farm tractors and tractor trailers. Our town was tiny compared to many of the cities we passed through. The highway system in our part of Maine had not been updated in over half a century. It wasn’t so much that the highway department didn’t care, but due primarily to Agnes Pickleberry. Or as we called her Ol’ Picklebucket. She was one of the town elders who lived right on the edge of our boundary. Every time the highway department brought in machines to do the work she would hex them. She was our town bard and absolutely hated loud noise. Inasmuch as she was on the town council no one could stop her. She led the State to believe we had upgraded roads when we didn’t.
Setting wards was one skill I could do without setting myself on fire or something. The first night we stopped at a roadside motel. The FBI agents who were escorting me and the truck looked at me funny when I set the wards. I tried to explain what I was doing, but it was like talking to one of the purple squirrels. Dumb as a post. If this is what they had to work with I could see the need for paranormals in the service. More brawn than brain. Squatting near the truck I lit a candle with my finger. Speaking quickly I laid out the basic boundaries surrounding the car, truck, and our rooms. Anyone who attempted to break in would be frozen as if in amber until I released them. It was a very effective spell. Grandmother used it every fruit picking season. Back in Blackbriar, it is was a right-of-passage to avoid her traps and bring back an apple. I stood and set my cantrips with the word ‘reiði.’ The agents looked at me as I walked back.
“Everything OK miss?”
“Yes Agent Carlson, everything is just fine. I set a ward on the truck, the car, and our rooms. If anyone other than the four of us tampers with them they will be trapped until morning.”
He squinted and looked down at me. “Trapped how?”
“Have you ever gotten rubber cement on your fingers? Imagine swimming in it. T
hat is what any thief will experience. They won’t be harmed unless they attack me. That I don’t recommend.”
“Oh. Sorry. We don’t have much experience with witch stuff. There is exactly two wizards on the payroll, but they only work on the really high profile cases.”
That surprised me. “Really? I was told you didn’t have anyone of staff.”
“Well, they are private contractors of a sort. We have to pay them to help us. They are Russian.”
That made more sense to me. Ever since the Demon War, Russian practitioners worked mostly freelance. The Slavic covens paid a heavy price to defeat the Demon hordes. Only an idiot would raise a Demon, much less a Demon Prince. That was exactly what the Thule Society did. There are reasons why most practitioners of High Magick are old guys. They study for years to just learn how to make the perfect circle. The slightest mistake, a wrong letter or a hash mark in the wrong place can spell disaster. Even a pronunciation mistake can cause an incursion of things best left alone. Grandmother taught me the basics and made me promise to never, ever, use the knowledge without proper supervision. Demonic possession is not something you want to happen to you. Putting the genie back in the proverbial bottle required a great deal of power. The Russian Volkhvy supplied that power. They sacrificed themselves to hold the demons at bay so the Allies could take care of a demon possessed Madman in the heart of Berlin. The Russian paranormals have not been the same since.
“I understand. Thank you. I doubt anyone will touch the truck, but if they do tomorrow should be fun! Good night.”
As I crawled into bed I giggled to myself this was going to be so much fun. The FBI really had no idea what was in store for them.
I got very little sleep that night. It may have been the strange bed, the musty room, the complaining Unicorn, or the banging on my door at the crack of dawn.
Throwing on a robe, I blinked a few times to wake up. I could hear a loud commotion outside my door. Flashing red and blue lights showed through the curtains covering my windows. The knocking started again. I opened the door to find Agent Carlson in mid-knock. “Is there something wrong Agent?”
“We didn’t believe you, but someone tried to break into the truck last night!”
I giggled. “Really?”
“Yes, Ma’am. We have three on the rear door and one in the front. The local law enforcement is bitching up a storm. One of their guys got stuck too.”
It really wasn’t funny, but I chuckled to myself. “Let me get dressed and I will release them. Tell the locals they are fine. It’s a non-lethal spell. I’ll be just a moment.” I stepped back into my room and began pulling out clothing.
“What’s wrong? Is this flea trap on fire?”
“Nope. Someone tripped the wards. Including the local police.”
Fergus was still laughing when we stepped back outside. Dawn was only a few minutes away as the first rays of sunlight worked their way over the tree line. In the early morning light it was easy to see the three men caught in the act of prying the door open. With my escort agents following I slowly walked around the truck. The man attempting to break the glass to get in the truck cab was wearing a sheriff's uniform. I pointed that out to Carlson.
“Hey! Is that her?”
Another man in a sheriff’s uniform approached me, his face was red and inflamed. “See here you. How dare you bring your witch bitch into my county and trap my man in your evil spells!” He reached out and tried to grab me. Carlson and the other agent were not fast enough to prevent him from grabbing my arm. Immediately my protections kicked in and he was thrown ten feet from me. My two agents just turned and stared at me. “A word to the wise gentlemen. Never grab a practitioner with violence on your mind. It does not end well. I might suggest you call in some reinforcements? This will get messy, now.”
They thought that was good advice and called in the Connecticut State Police. The Sheriff was arrested and so were the four thieves. It seems there was a rash of robberies along this stretch of highway that had been going unsolved for years. Local law enforcement were alway unable to find any of the culprits. The Sheriff had a heck of a little business going on. Carlson and his team were credited with the capture and arrest.
“Miss, I wish you would reconsider.”
“Agent Carlson. I am not even a rookie yet. Hell, I haven’t spent one night at Quantico yet. You and your boys can have all the credit. There will be plenty more arrests to go around. Trust me.”
After that the Agents were much nicer to me. We had no other major problems until we hit Interstate 95. Then I got to experience the true meaning of a traffic jam. The agents pointed out the many features of Quantico as we entered the base. The Marines wanted to search the truck, but my agents produced paperwork forbidding that. Grandmother had keyed some of what was in the truck for me alone. It made me cringe to think of what would happen if someone else grabbed it. Instead of the dorms I had them take me to the greenhouse first, then whatever Lab I would be using. I needed to get that truck unloaded. Too many breakable things around here for my tastes. The lab was actually part of the greenhouse. Bonus as Fergus would say. That unicorn has spent entirely too much time watching TV.
The lab and greenhouse was located on the edge of the Marine area. It was away from the residential areas and downwind of any school or civilian area. It made me wonder what was here before me. I investigated the building before I unloaded anything. The greenhouse need a bit of work, but it would do nicely.
“Agents I need for you to step back. This spell should work but sometimes strange things happen when I cast.” I focused on the rear of the truck. Using my finger I lit a candle and concentrated on the flame. Picturing what I wished to happen I spoke my words of power: ‘atrið, bera, and dúði.’ I opened my eyes just as the door opened on its own and boxes began to float out of the truck. Pointing at the small attached warehouse, the door rolled up. The floating boxes began stacking themselves in the order that I visualized. The last part of the truck was filled with herbs and other growing things. I waved my hands with a wrist twist worthy of ZZ-Top and directed them toward the greenhouse. When the last crate left the truck the door rolled down and locked on its own accord. I glanced behind me. All three agents just stood with their mouths open at the spectacle. Setting the ward took three times longer than usual. There were too many kinds of people on this base. I had to ward against everyone both friend and foe. Until I had time to lock up some of the spell components there was a great risk of accidental poisoning or death.
It was midday by the time I finished. We said goodbye to the truck driver. They said his name was Marcus. That left me with Agent Carlson and Agent Stevenson. The two of them drove me over to my assigned dormitory. It was time for my adventure to begin. The agents supplied me with maps and my small traveling case. I hugged both of them.
“Agents thank you for everything. That was a very interesting trip.”
“Ma’am, we will look you up when you get to Rookie status. Maybe you can teach us a thing or two.”
I smiled at them. “That I will do Agent.” Before I could speak the name Carlson, he said Bob. The other agent called himself Bill. “Thank you Bob and Bill. I think I can handle it from here on out.”
Giving them no second thought, I climbed the stairs into the admissions building. A large desk occupied the central lobby. Various agents could be seen running to and fro in the hallways beyond it. A blond woman sat behind the desk checking off names and yelling directions to obvious students. “Name?”
I was still staring at her when what she said registered in my brain. “I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?”
“I said Name?” She sounded like a real bitch. Trust me I know the breed, half my family could give her lessons. I choose to live my life following the words of the prophet James Dalton. “Be nice. Until it’s time to not be nice.” Words to live by.
“Agatha Blackmore.” Her eyes widened and she pressed a button on her desk. There was a loud humming and clear Plexiglas s
creens descended from the ceiling enclosing both the desk and me.
I looked at the box that I was in and smiled. “Is there a reason for this?” I pointed at the walls. The woman behind the desk flinched when I raised my hands. Agents came running from doors located along the walls.
“Isn’t this a little much for new student orientation?” I smiled at the woman. It was almost time to not be nice.
“I have my orders! Cover her!” She pointed the agents at me.
“What do you think Fergus?” Asking the Unicorn for advice is probably never a good idea but what the hell.
“Show them what you can do. It’s not like they can hurt you. Besides they recruited you.”
He had a point. Strange when he made sense. “I’m new here, but I don’t think this is how I am supposed to be greeted. Can anyone call Agent John Grimes or his boss and tell them I’m here?”
The agents all held weapons on me while the bitchy blond frantically called for help on her phone. I shook my head. Time to go. “I’m leaving. Anyone want to drive me back to Maine?” Of course no one answered me. I waved my hand and spoke a word of power, ‘skera.’ The three-inch-thick plexiglass walls cracked and shattered into a fine dust. I brushed my clothing off as well as I could. That sort of dust just gets everywhere. I spoke another spell, ‘skjald-borg,’ and stepped out of the ring of dust. The door to outside was about fifty-feet behind me. I turned and walked toward it. The agents opened fire at that point. The bullets ricocheted off me and began zinging and pinging around the room. I said ‘stǫðva’ and made a stop motion with my hands. The glass doors to outside shattered as bullets hit them. I continued walking, carefully stepping over the piles of broken glass. Outside on the sidewalk were two Marine Humvees with M240 machine guns mounted on them.
