Hero's Curse

by Jack J. Lee

  Ben shook his head. His voice was tentative, “One of us sabotaged the van?” He had a firm grasp of the obvious.

  I stood up with Mina’s help. I said, “Let’s not jump to conclusions; anyone in our neighborhood or by the store could have planted the surveillance devices.” My words were true but I didn’t believe them. It’d be nice if our traitor thought I was gullible.

  Aidan and Tim were armorers, and they had easy access to the van. They made things for a living. If one of them had spent fifteen minutes on the internet or the same amount of time talking to a clerk at a RadioShack, they would have learned how to hook up the GPS tracker and BodyPack Transmitter to the car battery. All it took was a couple of wires and a 12.6 volt to 9 volt resistor. They would have done a better job of hiding the devices.

  The fuel intake floats inside the gas tank. This means that gasoline is used from the top down. Sugar sinks in gasoline. Our saboteur had gotten lucky. If we had refueled before we were down to a quarter tank, the sugar wouldn’t have reached the fuel filter.

  Someone who hadn’t been much of a planner, who didn’t have much time or easy access to the van was spying for the Jotunn; it had to be one of the Swensons. Was it ditsy Andi, her barely-out-of-childhood brother, my one true love, or all of them together? Mina put her arm around my waist and drew herself tight against me. Was she trying to kill me? I asked myself another question I couldn’t answer: could I end this girl?

  I was glad she was too close to see my expression. I gently caressed her hair and the nape of her neck. “I need to talk privately to Tim and Aidan. Can you to keep an eye on the Etch A Sketch?” I made eye contact with Andi and Ben. “Guys, you need to stay with your sister. If you stay outside the van, the audio bugs won’t be able to pick you up.”

  I waved at Tim and Aidan to come with me and we walked along the side of the highway. I waited until we were too far away for the Swensons to easily overhear. “Aidan, I need you to clean the fuel filter and get the sugar out of the gas tank. I’ve plugged the fuel line with rags—not the best way keep gasoline from leaking. I’m hoping you can find a better way to plug up the leak. We can’t afford to lose fuel. Also, I don’t want the Jotunn to know we know about their devices. I need you guys to figure out how to send false information to the GPS tracker and through the wireless microphone.”

  Tim grabbed at my arm, “Victor, all of those things should be fairly easy. All we have to do…”

  I cut him off, “Just get it done. If you need help getting the fuel filter back on let me know. Right now, I need to call Samson and let him know what’s going on.”

  Chapter 18: The Principles of Magic

  It was 5:13 PM—forty-six minutes before Drew’s ETA into Salt Lake City. I pulled up Google and put in a search for the phrase, ‘Sunset times Boise Idaho.’ According to the first website on the search list, the sun would go down at 9:18. I pulled out my disposable phone and called Drew. I hung up after the first ring.

  Twenty-three seconds later, I got a call back. I didn’t recognize the number. As expected, Drew had gotten his own disposable phone. “Yeah.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “I don’t have one yet. I won’t be able to meet you at the original location. It’d be best if you stay about an hour driving distance away until I tell you different.”

  “It doesn’t sound good.”

  “If I don’t call you by late tomorrow, I won’t need you.”

  Drew gave a half-chuckle like I’d said something funny, “Well I hope you call, if only to satisfy my curiosity.”

  “It’s good to know you care. Can you get a team together in the next couple of days?”

  “For what kind of mission?”

  “I need a team with the experience and ordnance to take out the equivalent of nineteen APCs.”

  “In what country?”

  “At our original location, give or take four hundred miles.”

  I heard full blown gut-busting laughter. It took awhile for him to catch his breath. “The funniest part of all this is I don’t think you’re joking.”

  “Yeah.”

  His voice became dead serious, “Can you afford what it’s going to cost?”

  “How much are we talking about?”

  “To get and equip a team in a couple days that is crazy enough to want to do what you want, and good enough to have a reasonable chance of getting away with it—two million.”

  I wasn’t surprised by the figure. It would put a serious dent in my Bahaman account, but what the hell; I couldn’t take it with me. “Half up front?”

  “That’s usually how it goes. It’ll take at least three days, maybe more to get the team together.”

  “Text me your account number and routing information and I’ll have it wired to you.”

  “Hey.”

  “What?”

  “This better not be political.”

  This time it was my turn to belly laugh, “It’s not political; it’s religious.”

  Drew had just enough time to say, “What the…” before I hung up.

  I called Bill Samson next. After a few rings, I heard his deep Darth Vader voice, “Hello.”

  “It’s Victor Paladin.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever checked if you’re under electronic surveillance?”

  I could hear a glimmer of interest when he replied, “Why do you ask?”

  “That’s how the Jotunn have been keeping track of us in Salt Lake City.”

  In the silence that came afterwards, I could almost hear Samson think. There was amusement in his voice, “That makes sense. Now that you’ve told me, it’s almost obvious.”

  “We’re twenty miles south of Mountain Home. There’s a pretty good chance the Jotunn are following us. How do you want to play it?”

  “There’s a church called Our Lady of Good Counsel on 115 North and 4th East Street in Mountain Home. Stay in the Church until nightfall and we’ll see if can properly greet our guests.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll keep my phone on. Let’s keep in touch if anything changes.”

  As I put my phone in my pocket, Tim ran over to me. “Victor, Andi sabotaged our van.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Through the laws of similarity and contagion.” Tim must have seen my lack of incomprehension, because he went on, “She was the last person who touched the sugar in our gas tank and the surveillance devices on the van.”

  “Has anyone else touched them?”

  He shook his head, “Yes, but not anyone we know. They may just be people in the stores where she bought her supplies. What do you want to do? Should we restrain her?”

  “Can you tell if she has any other devices she can use to sabotage us? Does she have a weapon?”

  Tim smiled, “You and Aidan think alike. The first thing he did after we found out it was Andi was to check for those things. She has a cell phone but that’s it. Aidan glitched it so she can’t get a signal.”

  “How did he do that without me knowing? You guys could tell when I did magic. Why didn’t I notice you or Aidan casting your spells?”

  Tim started to speak and then hesitated, clearly considering his words, “Victor, you’re strong but you don’t have much in the way of finesse. I know it sounds like an oxymoron, but magic isn’t magical. What I mean is—magic is a form of energy like heat or electricity. It follows the same laws of thermodynamics as any other form of energy. Static electricity from walking across carpet doesn’t make a noticeable sound; lightning, which is basically the same thing but on a higher scale, makes a thunderclap. A candle burns without noise, but if you have a fire intense enough to melt steel, you can actually hear the flame.”

  “So you heard me use a lot of power.”

  Tim hesitated again, “Yes, people who can perform magic can ‘hear’ magic being used. It’s hard to ‘hear’ magic when small, weak spells are being used. It’s difficult to miss massive surges of power. There are easy ways versus hard ways of doing al
most everything. To give you an example—say you have a flat tire. If you have the right tools and supplies—a car jack, tire iron, and spare tire—it’s a simple problem to fix. There’s no reason to be physically or mentally exhausted after you change the tire. It takes an immensely strong person to be able to change a tire without tools. The odds are good even if he could, he’d be exhausted afterwards. To tell you the truth—you did something amazing, but there are much easier and less power intensive ways to do the same thing.

  I understood why Tim was hesitating. He was embarrassed for me. I had done something amazing—amazingly stupid. Out of ignorance, I had done the magical equivalent of lifting a car up with my bare hands when a car jack was in the trunk. “Let me guess—both you and Aidan could have found the wireless microphone without using nearly as much power.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve used the words ‘Contagion’ and ‘Similarity’ before. What do you mean by that?”

  “As I’ve said before, magic is the process of imposing your will upon the Universe. The human intellect is designed so that certain patterns of thought are easier than others. Contagion describes the idea that items that were once in contact will always have a connection. Contagion explains why antique persimmon golf clubs owned by John F. Kennedy are worth tens of thousands of dollars, or the Walther PPK that Hitler killed himself with is literally priceless.

  “Similarity is the idea that items that are intrinsically alike can influence each other. Photographs of loved ones have value because people instinctively sense that having an image of someone they love connects them to that person. We live in a Universe where perception shapes reality. Spells based on instinctive thought and belief patterns take less energy than those that don’t.”

  “How would you have looked for an audio bug?”

  “Based on how much power you used, you probably asked the Universe an open ended question like, ‘Is there a surveillance device in the van?’”

  I nodded.

  “Did you specify a time component for the spell? How fast you wanted the answer?”

  I shook my head.

  “Intention is more important than the words when casting spells. But the more specific you are, the less energy and power you need. Empirical knowledge is useful. Spells that have been passed down for generations tend to be the most energy efficient. It also helps to have tools. One of the most useful tools I have is one that looks for similar items. It took me three months to make. Going back to my changing tires analogy—the best way to lift a car is with a jack, but the jack has to be made before it can be used.

  “In your situation—one where I didn’t have access to tools—I would have focused on my cell phone’s microphone and looked for something similar in the van. I also would have had the spell work over time so I got an answer—say thirty minutes later. Spells that take effect instantaneously use more energy than those that occur over time. It’s a rough guess but if you had focused on something similar to what you were looking for and had the spell work over a half-hour, you would have used seventy-five percent less energy. If you had set it to take effect after an hour, eighty-five percent less. If you had the proper tools, it would have taken a miniscule amount of energy.”

  Tim was too polite to say the obvious; had I bothered to ask him or Aidan to look for the audio bugs, I wouldn’t have burned through half my remaining soul energy right before a fight with nineteen Jotunn. “So where do I get magical tools?” I wasn’t surprised when he told me if I’d been the kind of man that trusted others, I could have asked Aidan to make me some tools. Sometimes me being me was a pain in the ass.

  During my conversation, I had started feeling the compulsion to head back to Salt Lake City. It was getting stronger. When I had been focused on figuring out what was going on with the van, I hadn’t noticed my compulsion, but now I could feel myself turning into a sock puppet. I didn’t have much time.

  I gestured for Tim to follow me and headed back to the van. Aidan was crawling out from underneath the van. The rest of the group was watching him. The leprechaun looked up at me and said, “All the sugar is out of the gas tank. The fuel filter is clean and installed.”

  I put the gas cap back on and went back into the van to replace the circuit relay. I turned the key to the run position without starting the engine. With my super hearing, it was easy to hear the fuel pump activate. I let it run long enough to prime the fuel lines, and then started the engine; it started and ran without any problems.

  I could almost feel Joey reaching his hand deep inside my colon. My need to get back to Salt Lake City was almost overwhelming. It took every ounce of will power I had to turn the engine off and move back to my old seat. I waved everyone else into the van. I wasn’t the only one feeling the compulsions. Aidan’s lips were compressed into a thin line and Tim had beads of sweat on his brow.

  I handed Mina my phone, “Tim, Aidan, and I need to go back to sleep. My GPS app is set to guide you to a Catholic Church about twenty miles from here. Wake us up when we get there. Keep an eye on Andi. She’s the one who put sugar in our gas tank and placed the wireless microphone under the driver’s seat.”

  Mina had a fierce frown. I heard Ben shout, “What the…”, as I put myself to sleep.

  Chapter 19: Bait

  When I woke up Mina was shaking me. It took awhile for my eyes to focus. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Close to thirty minutes. Victor, there are men outside the van who want to talk to you. They came up to us as soon as we pulled up.”

  It looked like sleep spells had the same side effects as sleeping pills. Wake up too early and you get a hangover. Adrenalin is a good antidote for drowsiness, whatever the cause. We were parked on the street in front of Our Lady of Good Counsel. I shook the fog out of my brain and studied the three men on the sidewalk and the two at the driver’s side window. Ben had the driver’s side window cracked open. He was looking at the men outside suspiciously. The other windows were up and the doors locked.

  Andi was still in the front passenger seat looking sullen—the perfect picture of a teenager being treated unfairly. Tim and Aidan were awake but still looked groggy.

  None of the men outside matched my image of Bill Samson. One was dressed in black with a priest’s collar. The other four looked like Hollywood movie nerds. In movies, nerds have just two body types—skinny with the beginnings of a pot belly or obese. There were three of the skinny kind and one of the fat. If the Boise Brotherhood were as good as they looked, we were in trouble.

  “Guys, stay inside until we know what’s going on.” I stepped out of the van and closed the door behind me. “I’m Victor Paladin.”

  The Priest stepped forward and shook my hand, “I’m Father Mallory.” He waved at the others, “Matt Shrank, Todd Singletary, Jim Black, Larry Summerhays.”

  Father Mallory looked at me; I tilted my head toward him in acknowledgement and waited for him to tell me what was going on. The silence seemed to make the Father uncomfortable. “Uh, Paladin Samson asked us to meet you here. We’re all members of the Boise Oath Brotherhood.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  The Priest pointed to the church. It was an A-Frame style brick building, with concrete blocks designed to look like limestone surrounding the solid metal double doors and the windows facing us. The windows, relative to the size of the building, were tiny and protected by steel burglar bars. I could feel the presence of defensive spells. They weren’t quite as strong as the spells the Jotunn had broken at the monastery. As jury-rigged fortresses went, it wasn’t bad. “Paladin Samson wants you to stay in the church until the Jotunn attack.”

  “You used the word ‘until’ not ‘if.’”

  “How do you feel? Do you have the compulsion to get back to Salt Lake City?”

  Now that Father Mallory had mentioned it, I noticed I didn’t feel the need to head back.

  My expression must have been my answer. He smiled grimly as if he’d proved his point.

 
“Father, do you know my background?”

  His smile morphed into an expression of slight confusion. “No. I know you’re the new Salt Lake City Paladin. That’s it.”

  “Until a couple of days ago when I became one, I had no idea paladins existed. I need you to explain the relationship between my compulsions and the Jotunn.”

  Father Mallory looked equally surprised and apologetic. “I can only tell you what Paladin Samson told me.”

  “Yes?”

  “He said the only way you could leave Salt Lake City was if you were unconscious or directly threatened by the Jotunn. Your compulsions are direct expressions of God’s will. When it comes to threats, they’re based on what God knows, not what you know.”

  B and Aidan had been surprised by my suggestion of leaving Salt Lake City while asleep. Based on their reactions, I had mistakenly assumed no one else knew about this technique. I wondered how many other wrong assumptions I’d made. “Is this common knowledge?”

  “I just learned about this myself when I talked to Paladin Samson a half-hour ago.”

  “Thirty minutes ago, I felt the need to go back to Utah. Now I don’t; does this mean the Jotunn have started heading our way since then?”

  “I really don’t know enough to answer that question. Paladin Samson may know.” When I reached for my phone, the Priest pointed to the doors. “It’d be a lot safer for all of us if we continued this conversation inside the Church.”

  That made sense. I opened the van door. “Guys, let’s get our gear and head inside the church.”

  It only took a minute for me to briefly explain the situation and conduct quick introductions. The Boise Oath Brothers helped unload the van, and with all of us, it only took one trip.

  I didn’t see a container large enough to hold Sanguinis, Obex, and my armor. I pulled the leprechaun off to the side and asked, “Aidan, where did you put my gear?”