“Still!” Mom slightly shakes her head.
I raise both eyebrows at her. “Do you know any other mages in the area who might be willing to guide her? Also, do you really want to let her abilities develop completely wild? She almost launched one of her dance classmates into low-Earth orbit.”
Dad cracks up so bad he’s crying. Mom merely gawks at me.
“Okay.” I laugh. “Little exaggeration there.”
By the time I’m done explaining ‘weightless Megan,’ both of my parents are laughing. “Okay, so Sophia with magic is like arming a child with a nerf gun… capable of punching holes across dimensions. She might be cute and harmless, with innocent intentions, but you see how much weird crap is gravitating to us with me around. I think she needs to learn how to protect herself from unwanted outside interference.”
“That’s what steel chairs are for,” says Dad.
“Jon. This isn’t wrestling.” Mom wipes laugh tears away, her lip quivering as if she’s fighting a smile.
He wiggles his eyebrows. “Admit that you just pictured Sophia walloping something over the head with a steel chair.”
“You are impossible.” Mom resumes laughing for a few seconds, then goes serious. “You’ll keep an eye on her?”
“As much as possible. I’m still not entirely sure I believe it’s real.”
“If I had a dollar for every time I thought that about what happened to you…” Mom hugs me. “Just be careful. All right. I don’t want her accidentally hurting herself. Talk to them and ask what they think, but let your father and I know before you do anything?”
“Sure.”
“When are you going to contact them?” asks Dad.
“Maybe tomorrow. Right now, I have a crapload of homework to finish.” I hug them one after the next, then stand. “Night, guys.”
“Night, hon.” Dad yawns. “You know, I think I’m going to call it an early night.”
“Not me. I’ve still got so much to do for that case coming up.” Mom inherits Dad’s yawn.
“Sleep. Come to bed now. Wake up earlier. You’ll only drown in paperwork if you try to do it while tired.”
“Oh, Dad? Isn’t there a sequel? Conan the Destroyer? Next Saturday?”
He points at me. “Confirmed. Now, go get your homework done.”
“Okay.” I hug him again, and run off to the stairs.
6
The Naraj Cube
Late afternoon Sunday, I’m in the car with Sophia, driving to Seattle for a meeting with Darren Anderson at the Brass Tap. I’m not entirely sure if the mystics’ eagerness to meet her is a bad sign or not. When I called him last night, he suggested a brief face-to-face as soon as I could be there.
Mom’s not terribly thrilled with the idea and almost walked away from her mountain of work to come with us. Sophia’s a little nervous, too, but she’s also eager to get a better understanding of whatever it is she can do. Whenever she’s nervous, she can’t stop talking. So, the ride is anything but quiet. Another habit of hers while nervous is to leap from topic to topic without any apparent connection between them. She also has the bizarre ability to ramble between subjects so easily her conversation sounds like it flows even if it’s nearly impossible to follow.
By the time I park in downtown Seattle, I’m fully informed about the trials and tribulations of her classroom’s five hamsters, the soap-opera saga going on among the characters in the fictional world she intends to write books in some day, what she thought of her lunch yesterday, random ideas of what Fuzzydoom might do if it managed to emerge from the mirror, and her friend Megan’s insecurities of being on stage for a dance recital. The girl’s a little thick, and being in a class where everyone else is slim makes her feel conspicuous.
Oh, and Sophia’s worried she’ll look stupid in front of the mystics.
The ride is reasonably brief and I even find a parking spot on the same block as the bar.
“I changed my mind. Can we go home?” asks Sophia as soon as the engine’s off.
“Seriously? What happened?”
She shrugs. “I look like a dork.”
My kid sister is wearing a pink dress, white leggings, and ballet flats. If she had her hair up in pigtails, she’d resemble a tall six-year-old, but it’s loose.
I’d call her adorable, but that would only make her insecurities worse. “No you don’t. You look normal. They’re not going to be expecting you to wear a robe or anything. That’s only in stories.”
She fidgets. We sit there in silence for a minute or so.
“Up to you.” I put the key back in the ignition. “You don’t have to do this. If you wanna go home, we can go home.”
Sophia stares at her peeling nail polish. “Are they going to laugh at me or think I’m a nerd?”
“These guys are nerds, too.”
“Are they gonna hurt me?”
“If I had the slightest fear of that, we wouldn’t be here right now. And if they do something unexpected, I’ll rip their heads off.”
She grins. “Like Scott. Or are you being figurative?”
“Depends on what happens.” I wink.
“Okay.” She exhales hard. “We can at least talk to them.”
We get out of the car and head inside. At a little after four on a Sunday afternoon, there aren’t too many people here. In addition to being a bar, the place is also a restaurant, so a ten-year-old walking in the door doesn’t raise that many eyebrows. Then again, people would give me weird looks if I tried to go into a bar. Admittedly, eighteen is too young for a bar, but I don’t even appear to be that old. Grr.
“Wow. Someone really likes steampunk,” whispers Sophia while gazing around at all the brass.
“Yeah. I think the owner of this place is into that like you’re into pink stuff.”
She sticks her tongue out at me.
I spot Darren, Landon, and Callum sitting at a round table in a corner booth, one that’s big enough for like eight people. Sophia’s grip on my hand might break fingers if not for my vampiric toughness. Poor kid’s terrified. It’s almost enough to make me change my mind, but the idea of what she might end up doing by accident worries me more.
All three guys look over at us when we approach the table. As soon as they spot Soph, they make faces like an adorable cat picture just scrolled by on Facebook. When she sees that, her grip relaxes. Perhaps one day, she’ll outgrow liking it when people think she’s adorable. Sierra hated it from like age nine up. Not sure exactly when I bristled at people ‘awwing’ at me, but it happened years before I had the nerve to tell people it bothered me. Curse of being the oldest I guess.
“Sarah…” Darren nods in greeting. “This must be Sophia.”
My sister steps closer. “You should recognize me. Didn’t one of you kick my ghost out?”
The men emit nervous chuckles.
“Actually, Pippa did that.” Landon scoots in to make room on the C-shaped bench. “Seemed most appropriate to have a woman cast the distant seeing spell on a girl.”
I pat Sophia on the back. “You wanna sit closer to them or be on the edge?”
She glances at the room, then unzips her coat. “I’d rather have you between me and bad guys.”
I’m not entirely sure who she’s referring to with that comment, and the mystics all seem equally confused as to whether or not she’d insulted them. However, before any of us can ask her to explain, she hangs her coat on the peg above the seat and crawls in to sit right next to Landon. Guess ‘bad guys’ are theoretical problems who haven’t shown up yet. The men smile upon realizing she hadn’t called them evil.
Landon shakes her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Sophia.”
“The pleasure is mine, but I’m afraid I do not yet know your name, kind sir.”
Darren and Callum chuckle. Landon raises both eyebrows.
I hop into the bench seat, leaning on the table. “She plays with dolls a lot.”
Sophia’s face goes scarlet.
“�
� and she’s read more regency romance novels than any ten-year-old ought to have.”
“Landon York, at your service.” He shifts from shaking hands to kissing her knuckle.
“Callum Bailey.” He nods in greeting.
“And I am Darren Anderson.” Darren offers a slight bow.
Sophia glances at his long black hair, small round glasses, and somewhat dated suit. “Is he trying to look like ‘human Dracula’ on purpose?”
Darren coughs, while the other two stifle chuckles.
“Oops.” Sophia goes wide-eyed. “Sorry. I mean, you look pretty cool. Just wondering if you do it on purpose.”
“I’m fond of the aesthetic.” Darren smiles at me. “I appreciate you bringing her to speak with us.”
I salute him with two fingers. “Sure. No problem. So, can you guys help her?”
“That remains to be seen.” Callum stares at Sophia with an intensity that would’ve totally creeped me out if I didn’t know he was a mystic studying something about her aura or whatever.
A waitress stops at the table, giving me a nod. “Hi. Welcome to the Brass Tap. Can I get you girls anything?”
“Sprite?” asks Sophia.
Meh. Might as well order a drink to keep up appearances. “Just an iced tea, thanks.”
“Long Island?” Callum winks.
The waitress raises an eyebrow at him in an ‘are you kidding’ way. “Need to see some ID for that one, hon.”
I chuckle. “No, definitely not Long Island. Normal iced tea.”
She smiles. “Okay. Anything to munch on?”
A momentary flashback to the buffalo nuggets from the ninth layer of hell makes me squirm. They tasted great, but oh-em-gee they hurt on the way out. Yeah, being able to still eat normal food is cool and all, but I can’t do spicy anymore. As the old saying goes, what goes in, comes out. I give Sophia the ‘wanna snack?’ look. She shrugs.
“Why don’t we get a sampler plate?” Darren nods at the waitress. “That way we can all pick at whatever.”
I give a thumbs-up. “That works.”
“Be right back with the drinks.” The waitress whisks off.
“What has happened thus far?” asks Landon.
“You saw the imps…” I put an arm around my sister and explain the whole mirrorverse trip, pausing while the waitress drops off our drinks so she doesn’t overhear anything too strange.
The men nod along, unfazed by everything—including the mega-nope-a-saurus. That kinda freaks me out. Like, if a truck-sized wasp-tarantula-scorpion thing doesn’t make them flinch, what the hell else might be out there? Of course, they could simply think I’m nuts…
“Have you done anything since that?” Callum sets a plain, wooden box on the table, resting his hands on it. It’s about the size of Mom’s jewelry box, pretty old looking, and covered in a dark varnish that lets the wood grain show.
“Yeah. A friend in dance class was having trouble jumping, so I tried to help her. But it didn’t really work. She floated like a balloon. I had to hold her down.”
The men all nod.
“How long did the effect last?” Darren jots something down in a small notebook.
“I dunno. Maybe ten minutes.” She scratches her head. “I was kinda freaking out not wanting anyone to notice Megan had no gravity. Sarah suggested I try to undo the spell, so I did, and it stopped.”
Darren jots feverishly, his old-timey quill wobbling into a white blur.
We all sit there trying to appear innocent while the waitress approaches carrying an enormous platter of various appetizer nibbles. Chicken fingers, jalapeno poppers, wings, buffalo nuggets, loaded potato skins, mozzarella sticks, cheesy fries drenched in bacon bits, and stuffed mushrooms.
“Thank you,” says Darren. “Might I request a refill?”
“Sure.” She takes his wine glass. “Be right back.”
“Alright.” Callum slides the top off the box sideways, exposing numerous small items bundled inside. “If you don’t mind, we’d like you to take a little test just to confirm that you have some ability.”
“Okay.” Sophia squeezes my hand and exhales.
Callum removes a small cloth bag from the box, opens it, and dumps out an assortment of metal bars. Most are L-shaped, a few have ninety-degree bends on both sides, and one piece is a weird little starburst-shaped nugget full of sockets. “This is a Naraj cube. All of these pieces fit together to form a single, solid block. The complexity is such that it would take a person days to do by hand. It is an excellent way to calm the mind and pave the way for a deeper connection to the universe.”
“However, for the purposes of this evaluation, we’d ask only that you attempt to put it together using whatever ability you have with magic.” Landon gestures at the pile of metal bits.
The pieces leap up, scrambling around like a bunch of kids at a birthday party playing musical chairs. Delicate clinking and pinging continues for a little over twenty seconds before the last segment slides into place with a click, resulting in a complete four-inch metal cube with sun pattern engravings on all six sides.
“Wow,” whispers Sophia. “That’s so cool.”
Darren picks it up and turns it over in his hands, letting the light gleam off each face in turn. The instant he mutters a strange foreign-sounding word, a rain of loose pieces falls between his fingers back to the table. “Please, Sophia. You try.”
The waitress returns with a glass of red wine for Darren, then hurries off.
My sister leans forward, holding her hands over the parts, a fascinated expression on her face. A second or two later, a distinct note of ‘ooh!’ glints in her eyes. I’d almost swear she’s having a telepathic conversation with a bunch of metal scraps. The glower of deep concentration takes over. One of the tiny rods twitches. Despite the minimal reaction of the puzzle box, the minuscule motion seems to leave the mystics awestruck.
Sophia’s determination curls her lip. A faint waft of light races away from her chest, bounces off the table, and flies across the room to the bar where it hits an occupied stool—that promptly bursts apart into loose pieces as though all the screws, glue, or nails holding it together ceased existing. The man sitting on it drops straight down, landing on his ass so hard watching it gives me a headache. He didn’t even have time to scream in surprise before crashing to the floor. Sprawled on his side, he emits an anguished gargle.
Ouch. I squirm, sympathetic pain riding up my spine into the bottom of my skull. People at the bar rush to help the older guy up. Pieces of barstool roll back together and reassemble at the precise moment no one’s paying any attention to it—other than me. By the time they get the dude on his feet, it doesn’t look like anything happened to the stool. The man appears to be unhurt—at least as far as serious injuries go—but highly confused.
The mystics didn’t react to the energy projectile, or to the man falling.
I’m not sure how in the heck no one noticed the thing collapse to pieces and put itself back together, but maybe there is something to that whole ‘human brains just reject magic’ thing Coralie mentioned. A rapid metallic tapping noise comes from the table in front of me. By the time I look away from the scene at the bar, there’s an intact cube sitting in front of Sophia.
And she’s grinning big time. As if rewarding herself, she grabs a potato skin from the tray.
“That is most impressive,” says Landon. “It usually takes quite a few years to be able to invoke even minor magic like this without chanting aloud.”
“You did it without saying anything,” says Sophia.
“I chanted in my mind. Which invocation did you use?”
“Umm.” She grimaces. “No idea. I just stared at it until it put itself together.”
Darren blinks. “The Naraj cube is primed with arcane energy, making it quite easy to affect with magic, hence why we use it as a test to confirm ability. However, most prospective mystics use some manner of evocation spell, intended to move objects.”
“I don�
��t know any ‘spells.’ I just picture what I want to happen and concentrate on making it happen.” Sophia bites her lip. “Did I do it wrong?”
“You guys missed the barstool.” I point at the guy standing beside said stool, tapping and pulling at it.
“What?” Darren looks at me.
I explain what happened.
“Oops,” whispers Sophia. “I didn’t wanna hurt anyone.”
“You saw something fly out from her?” Callum stares at me in a way that makes me feel like a lab specimen.
“Ever watch one of those ghost shows where they capture a ‘light anomaly’ on video? It kinda looked like that. Really faint.”
Sophia tries to pick up the cube, grunts, then grabs it in both hands, gawking at its weight. “I got frustrated that it didn’t want to work. Pretty sure I felt it when that energy happened.”
“Sounds like a focus issue.” Landon strokes his short beard. “She invoked an assembling force but had trouble directing it to the intended target.”
I tilt my head. “But it took the stool apart… Wouldn’t an ‘assembling’ force put something back together?”
“Didn’t it?” Landon smiles. “Magic is not always sequentially iterative. Casting a reassembly spell on an object composed of multiple parts when it is not currently in multiple pieces will often disassemble it so the subject of the magic is in a state that is receptive to the intent of the spell.”
Yeah, okay. I’ll pretend that’s perfectly logical. “Oh. I suppose that makes sense. So, did she pass?”
The men nod.
“Quite so.” Darren reaches across the table and gently takes her hand, turning it palm up like a fortune teller. “Fascinating.”
“Are you gonna read my palm?” asks Sophia around a mouthful of potato, cheese, sour cream, and bacon bits.
He chuckles. “No, child. I’m studying the residual energy leaking from your fingertips.” He lets go, satisfied. “I’d like to ask you to take a few more evaluations, but not here. It will take us a little time to make the necessary preparations. Would you be willing to meet with us at the lodge tomorrow afternoon? As early as your sister is able to go outside?”
Ordinary Problems of a College Vampire (Vampire Innocent Book 7) Page 8
