“Remember, you owe me.”
Chapter Seven
Sol’s library is more magical than most. Even though he has moved it a dozen times that I know of, it still has the same look and feel. It is Sol’s work of art, a labor of love and his most prized possession. Not only did he have an immense collection of magical tomes, his library also included books on the arts, sciences, history, philosophy, poetry, and fiction. Each book, scroll and tablet in his collection is somehow protected from the ravages of time.
Sol stands next to his poor overworked wooden desk. Unlike the sturdy bookshelves lining the walls which house his collection, the desk looks like it is on the verge of collapse. It is piled high with stacks of papers and books Sol is in the midst of studying. His chair is equally overworked. Sol isn’t a small man, not big like Hagan. Picture a beardless Santa Claus with black silver streaked hair and you come close to what Sol looks like. Not quite so large but you get the idea. As always, he dresses for comfort. Today is no exception. The grey sweats he wears have seen better days. The remains of his gourmet lunch could be seen on his shirt but it did not stop him from sounding any less imperious. Yeah, he is glad to see me. Even though Sol makes it difficult for people to see him, the man liked company. As he put it, no one would waste their time jumping through his hoops if they didn’t need or truly want to see him. No one could just drop by for the hell of it or because they happened to be in the neighborhood. This gives Sol more time to do what he likes doing best, reading and enjoying the finer things in life.
“Albritton, I’m disappointed in you,” He gestures to one of the reading chairs. “I would have come to you if I knew you were hurt.”
And here I am apologizing for not inconveniencing him. “I’m sorry but I have a big problem and not a lot of time.”
A raise of one eyebrow is Sol’s only reaction. It’s seldom I actually need to use his library or pick his brain for information. I’m not a sorcerer or anything like that. If I were, this would be the perfect place to research little known spells and incantations. I usually visit Sol to chew the fat with him or listen to one of his stories about the good ole days. Other times, he invites me here to discuss doing some work for him. Only on the most difficult cases will I drop by to talk shop or find out about some esoteric fact you probably couldn’t find elsewhere.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the Bloodstone. I try to ignore the way the ring feels in my hand. It’s not as bad as last night. Maybe I have gotten used to it but the feeling is bad enough. “It’s about this,” I say as I give Sol a good look at the ring.
His eyes widen in alarm and instinctively, he takes a step back nearly upsetting the books on his desk. “What the hell have you done? You fool, you’ve killed us all!”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say but that wasn’t it. Sometimes, Sol likes to joke and use old clichés. He also has a tendency to exaggerate. This time he is serious. “It wasn’t me. Someone named Meredith did it.”
Sol’s hand moves swift and sure in what could be a sign of protection. If Meredith were here, I am sure Sol would have more than a few words for him after he throttled the life out of him. Usually, you can’t speak to someone after they’re dead. Sol is one of few who know the steps necessary to do so. With a scowl, he says “It shouldn’t surprise me that another of my ‘esteemed’ colleagues lacks a sense of self-preservation. Let me guess, he said something about the Seven?”
“Yeah, he did,” Sol knows all about the break-in at Scott’s house but not the details. If he didn’t find out from the news or Nerva, he would have heard it through the grapevine. He keeps track of that sort of thing, some might call him paranoid but he prefers the term hyper-vigilant. It is why he keeps moving his library and dwelling. I add the detail he is probably missing. ”Meredith was the one behind the break-in at Scott’s.”
“Then he is even more the fool but a dangerous fool nonetheless,” Sol pauses a moment motioning me to put away the ring before continuing. “It takes a certain degree of power, skill and insanity to delve into the First Magics.”
If he thinks it is bad then there has to be a good reason for it. Odds are Sol tried to study it in the past and learned the hard way how dangerous they can be. This brings up another question. “Sol, I’m not exactly a new kid on the block but this is the first time I’ve ever heard of this stuff. Want to enlighten me?”
Sol’s smile returns now that the ring is out of sight. With it, so does some of his good humor. “Yes ‘o seeker of knowledge. The First Magics as many of us in the trade call them is the magic of the Dragons and their enemies the Seven. You never heard about them because the few of us who know about the First Magics ‘discourage’ others from studying them. We go out of our way to keep it a secret.”
I look at Sol and wonder just how many people he has ‘discouraged’. He likes to use euphemisms when talking about something unpleasant especially when it involves violence or anything he might be prosecuted for in a court of law.
“They are uniquely dangerous. So dangerous that we try and ‘confiscate’ anything related to them. Unfortunately, every once in a while someone stumbles upon a way to tap their power. The problem is that there are usually spectacular consequences for doing so. Tunguska is a good example of that.”
“I see,” And I do, all too clearly. Like Sol said, you would have to be a fool to mess with something that dangerous. No one knows what caused the Tunguska event in 1908. Some scientists theorize it could have been anything from an asteroid or comet air bursting above Siberia to a micro black hole opening up. There are even wilder theories. It looks like Sol has his own ideas about what happened. No matter what you think caused the event, Tunguska is as a good example of what ground zero at doomsday would look like.
“So we need someone skilled in the use of First Magic or a Dragon to defuse this thing.”
The mischievous twinkle that is usually in Sol’s eyes is replaced by a more calculating look. He’s weighing the odds here. “Dragons and their servants are harder to arrange an appointment with than me. To be honest with you, I don’t know any personally but there is something we can try.”
I’m not sure whether I am relieved or not. For the most part, Dragons don’t have a very good reputation. You can find more stories about a dragon razing the countryside and eating young maidens than you can stories where they act as protectors and guardians. One thing all the stories have in common is that they are all extremely powerful and prefer not to be disturbed.
Sol walks over to one of the bookshelves. He quickly finds the tome he is looking for. It’s old, nothing more than a collection of dried parchment tied together with a string. He sets it down with care on a nearby table, his fingers spreading out the pages gingerly. “I’ve deciphered a few pages from this collection. It has a drawing of the ring you’re carrying,” He smiles “Take a look at this page and tell me if you can make anything out of it.”
I nod, looking down at the page. There are no words, just tiny lines and scratches among pictures and diagrams. All of it written in a reddish brown liquid whose origins, I try not to think about. I shouldn’t be able to understand any of this but slowly, the chicken scratch starts to make sense. It’s still a jumbled mess in my mind, too much for me to truly understand without more time, time which is in short supply but there is one thing is painfully apparent.
“If I read this right, we’re screwed.”
***
Sol leaves me alone to call Dorward while I see if I can make any more sense out of the parchment. It poses as many questions as it answers. At least, we learned something new about my little talent. It’s connected to the First Magics. That’s why I am able to read the parchment without years of study. Unfortunately, being able to read it is a far cry from understanding what I am reading. Some concepts don’t translate into words. The little I do understand doesn’t cheer me up. My connection to the First Magics makes it possible for me to attune myself to Bloodstone and use its powers safely, wh
atever they are. Unfortunately, the parchment doesn’t state how to go about attuning myself to the ring. I could try to use the Bloodstone without attuning myself to it but II run the risk of nuking myself and everyone around me. It would be like trying to disarm a bomb with sledgehammer. The only other person we know who might be able to use the Bloodstone safely is Meredith and the Lord only knows what he would use it for.
I already know what Scott will say when Sol gives him the news. “Well then put him on a plane to Antarctica and we’ll hope for the best,” Yeah, it sounds cold and heartless. It is but that’s the sort of person Scott can be. If it’s a choice between lots of dead people and one person then the poor sap is going to lose. I can’t really blame him but I can be a little bitter about this and the fact I would let him put me on that plane before I let the ring do something spectacularly bad in a place like New York. Still, there has to be a way out of this, something I’m missing. I just need some time to figure this out before push comes to shove. Luckily, Sol and the rest are willing to take a chance and trust me enough to make the call without forcing the issue.
Something about Meredith and the ring doesn’t fit. From what I’ve seen of him thus far, the usual rules don’t seem to apply to him and that worries me. His spells are too fast, too powerful and cast without effort or energy which puts me at a disadvantage despite my own talents. There is also the matter of all the energy he has poured into the Bloodstone. Where is he getting it from? The more and more I think about it, I decide the answers are in the Bronx.
I put aside the parchment. Staring at the thing is beginning to give me a headache and headaches don’t help me think. That’s when I feel Kara’s thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” And I can tell she actually is. It doesn’t come across as empty words. “I couldn’t think of a way to tell you.”
“It’s all right. I missed ya.”
The silence is comfortable and welcome, just having her here is enough for me. It’s always like this after we’ve been apart for even a little while. This time, I’m first to break the mood. “If I’m to get out of this, I need answers.”
I can sense her nodding, waiting. “Tell me about the Seven.”
A sense of barely suppressed revulsion and horror jumps across the link. The images are raw and ugly, far from the beauty I’ve come to associate with Kara’s thoughts. When she regains her composure, her voice is strained. “You’ve encountered demons in the past. You know what they are like.”
My last encounter with a demon left me with an ardent desire to steer clear of them or anything remotely resembling demonic possession. I still have nightmares about that case. There are all sorts of spirits and I’ve dealt with more than my fair share of them. Demons are the most malevolent and powerful. They have no qualms about possessing people. Some of the more dangerous ones can inhabit places and even objects. Once they have a home, they make life extremely short, painful and miserable for anyone who has the bad luck to stumble across them. I leave them to the numerous bible thumpers, exorcists and spiritualists who specialize in dealing with them.
“The Seven are far more powerful. They are like spirits but they aren’t from the spirit world, they originate from this one. That means they can’t be exorcised or banished. Long ago, they fought the Dragons and the First Magics were used to defeat them. The Seven were bound tight in a dreamless sleep but if someone were to awaken them….”
There is no need for her to finish the thought. I have a vivid imagination. It comes in handy in this sort of lifestyle. Right now, I wish it wasn’t quite so vivid. The picture Kara has painted doesn’t leave any doubt in my mind about how bad things will get if the Seven are awakened. They are dangerous on a scale I’m not comfortable thinking about. Demons revel in spreading fear, madness and corruption. It would be hell on Earth if enough demons were let loose and these Seven sound far worse. There would be no ‘easy’ way to get rid of them. No matter what, someone is going to have to ‘discourage’ Meredith.
“My little trick is related to the First Magics, right?”
Another nod as she murmurs softly “It’s not a trick but yes. Your connection to the First Magics makes it difficult for all lesser magics to affect you. This connection lets you understand the parchment. It is also how our link works.”
I don’t have to think my next question for Kara to know what it is. She answers it. “Some are born with the power, others can learn it and in some rare cases the ability is given as a gift. The Dragon you saw, she is the one who gave you your gift.”
On some level, I had always known my little talent was a gift. People just don’t pick up magical abilities or weird talents. Kara is leaving something out, as if she is unsure or unable to say it. I let her off the hook. “Can you tell me how to attune myself to the ring?”
Her reply is sad as if she were a doctor telling me I have a terminal case of cancer “Yes, but it obeys the laws of time and effort. Given time, you could do it but that would take weeks. You could learn to do so sooner but with great effort and risk.”
In other words, I don’t have enough time to learn how to use the ring unless I want to try something suicidal.
“So, how much time do I have, doc?”
”You have until the end of next week. Meredith shouldn’t be able to tamper with the Bloodstone again as long as you keep your guard up.”
I realize how hard this must be for her, hard enough that I have to give her a little hope. Two weeks isn’t much time but it is better than nothing.
“So we have some time to figure something out. We have a chance,” I say, meaning it. Nothing is impossible. I just hope we come up with something before I take what will probably be a one way trip to the boondocks.
Chapter Eight
It’s the next day when I leave Solomon’s library. I think I’m the only person he has ever allowed to crash there besides Nerva. Instead of going home, I take the #5 train into the Bronx. My destination is only a few blocks away from where I grew up. A lot has changed for the better. Meredith’s property is the exception to the rule. It stands there as a monument to a past best forgotten. I look at the building and frown. Something is not right here. Kara can feel it too.
The South Bronx is in the midst of a minor renaissance. Real estate is at a premium. The abandoned buildings and junkyards of yesteryear are a thing of the past. New housing is rising from the ashes. The slums have given way to the promise of a better tomorrow, everywhere but here. What made 168th Street and Forest Avenue different? Why would Meredith let this building sit and rot? With only with a little work, he could make a killing here.
On the surface, everything looked normal. The front of the building was old and run down, a shadow of its former glory. Wooden boards were nailed over the windows and doors. Granted, the neighborhood could be better. It could be closer to the subway but that wasn't a reason to let good real estate go to waste.
”It’s one of those buildings,” Kara says and she’s right.
If you’re not looking for them, you can miss the little clues and details that act as a warning. The building was free of the graffiti and posters that decorate most other abandoned buildings and construction sites. In this day and age, people jump at the chance for free advertising or to show off their art but not here. Everyone and thing avoided this place. Not even a pigeon could be seen roosting on the building. People took the extra effort to cross the street instead of walking past the place.
The more and more I see, the less and less I like this set up. Kara is right. This is one of those buildings. What do I mean by that? It's simple. You ever wonder why some buildings, no matter how many housing violations they have are never condemned. Meanwhile other buildings are closed for seemingly trivial matters. I used to chalk it up to bribery, corruption, incompetence, or the warped thinking of bureaucrats but there was a much simpler reason I learned when I started working as a paranormal investigator.
This may sound old and tired. That doesn't stop it from being another on
e of those universal truths that pop up in my line of work. There are things that shouldn't be disturbed. There are people who shouldn't be bothered. There are places that shouldn't be entered. That's the way things are. That's the way they have always been. Everyone knows it even if it's only on a subconscious level. Some choose to ignore their gut feelings especially those who have more greed than they do common sense. Real estate agents and developers are notorious for this.
This building was one of those places. I know it, Kara knows it and so does Meredith. It was abandoned but not for any mundane reason. That's why he brought the place. That is why he is content not to have any work done on it. Okay, so what am I dealing with here? I could check it out now in the light of day but too much can go wrong. Rushing headlong into the unknown is a good way to end a career especially with someone like Meredith in the mix. I opt for the safer course of action. I’ll come back later after I make a few preparations. It might be more dangerous to explore the place at night but it will still be safer than going in blind. Also, there will be fewer potential witnesses.
***
I like to travel light. It’s a good habit I picked up in my youth. I find it easier to move around when I’m not loaded down with a lot of excess baggage especially if I need to move fast. Ordinarily, I would bring a few more items with me but I’m trespassing and have a strong aversion to jail. The canvas messenger bag is just big enough to hold everything I need and small enough to stay out of my way. If I was actually on a case and doing this legally, I would have a floor plan of the building. I wouldn’t have to worry about breaking in. Instead, I look for the best way to do this.
As I hoped, I don’t have to worry about witnesses. The criminal element is smarter than me. They steer clear of this block. At eleven pm, the street is deserted. Someone even took the liberty to shatter all of the street lights casting the block into shadows. I am alone here and the vibe coming from the building reinforces my belief.
The Gift of Fury Page 5
