Gypsy Witch: A Paragon Society Novel (Book 2)

by David Delaney

"Even though we don't normally end up recruiting anyone, we gather vital information about the target location. And, almost always, we discover somebody messing around with spells that shouldn't be available."

  "So, it's more like a recruiting-slash-policing run."

  "Exactly."

  "Okay, so why San Jose?" I turned to look at Lucy as she merged into the carpool lane. "I know the Council's magic map indicated that there was unusual activity, but what does that mean?"

  Lucy thought about her answer before responding. "You get that not every Society member works for the Society?"

  I nodded.

  She continued, "The map shows ripples or disturbances in the magic field. Whenever anybody performs a spell, shifts into animal form, or uses magic in any way, it registers on the map."

  "Shifters show up? Really?" That was something I didn't know. I wondered if my magic shielding would prevent the map from being able to track me.

  "Yep. Anything that utilizes magical energy appears on the map. It's why the map is in constant motion. With millions of Society members around the world, there is always somebody doing something somewhere. But the patterns are very regular. Just people going about their daily routines, which means that anything abnormal stands out."

  I had a question. "Can the map be used to track specific individuals?" Talk about Big Brother and zero privacy.

  "Yes, but it's against Society law to use it that way."

  "Riiiight," I responded, shaking my head.

  "I'm serious. It's forbidden, and there are safeguards in place to make sure the law isn't broken . . ."

  "I can hear the 'but' in your voice," I said. "Let me guess: there are those who think the law should be changed. People like Tommy, maybe?" I knew I was right before Lucy answered. The Society had the ultimate spying tool and a paranoid a-hole like Tommy French would have no problem using it to its fullest extent. I fully admitted I was biased when it came to Tommy, but the dick had tried to have me arrested, and on top of that his nutcase son had sent a hit squad after me. They were the definition of troublemaker and unfortunately they weren't the exception to the rule, the Society was full of people just like them. And those people had access to the Council Chamber and its magic map. If you were a Paragon, there would literally be nowhere on Earth you could hide if you were targeted.

  "Yes." Lucy confirmed. "Some have made the argument that the law should be changed, but they are a minority . . ." Lucy began.

  "I hear another 'but' coming," I said.

  Lucy sighed. "Cynthia has a theory that Cabal members are involved in the push to change the law."

  "Of course," I said. "It makes perfect sense. If I were an evil douche bag wanting to take over the world, a magic people-tracker would be on the top of my 'things I need' list." A horrible thought occurred to me. "Um, yesterday, after the training session, you said that the map could 'among other things, track magical disturbances.' What other things can it do, exactly?"

  "It's been speculated that the spell that powers the map could be tweaked so that it could pinpoint anybody, Paragon or not."

  I whistled. "Holy Dr. Xavier, Batman," I said, carelessly mixing comic book universes.

  Lucy glanced over at me. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

  "Come on? Dr. Xavier? The X-Men?" I asked, incredulous.

  Lucy gave me a blank stare before focusing back on the road in front of us.

  "Dr. Xavier from the X-Men has a machine called Cerebro that allows him to locate any mutant, anywhere in the world," I explained.

  "Comic books? Again?" Lucy sounded pissed. "This is reality, Orson."

  "I get that, but the similarities . . . you know what? Forget I brought it up. So the map is an all-powerful non-comic book-like magic thingy. Why is it sending us to San Jose?"

  Lucy pointedly ignored my 'magic thingy' comment and said, "As I said: there are Society members all over the world, so normal fluctuations are expected and ignored. But over the past few months, several anomalies have popped up in the San Jose area, so it was given much more scrutiny than normal. And then, last week, a major flare-up occurred."

  "When you say major flare-up . . ."

  "Someone unleashed a huge amount of magic energy," explained Lucy.

  "How huge?"

  "Big enough that the Council is sending us to check it out," Lucy replied.

  "So, what do we do when we get up there? Just drive around looking for suspicious people?"

  Lucy gave me a look.

  "What?" I continued. "I'm serious. How do we know where to look? What if the person blasting the major mojo has left the area?"

  "The previous anomalies and the major incident have all taken place in and around the Stanford campus. So, that's where we're headed."

  "Stanford University? Seriously? They've got a student body of like sixteen thousand people, not to mention faculty and just regular old people that live in the area. I repeat: how do we know what we're looking for?"

  "Research," Lucy replied.

  "What does that mean?"

  "A carload of Stanford students was involved in an accident at precisely the same moment as the flare-up. Witnesses say a semi-truck drifted into oncoming traffic and collided with three cars. It was a mess, explosions – the whole deal. Everyone involved was killed, either in the initial crash or the ensuing fire."

  "Oh, man," I commented.

  Lucy held up a finger to emphasize her next words. "Everyone was killed except the carload of Stanford students."

  "What? All of them survived? What about injuries? They must have been burned, right?"

  "Nope. The first responders couldn't believe it when they got to the scene. Oh, there were minor injuries, like scratches and bruises, but that's all. And I've seen cell phone footage of the aftermath. The car the students were driving in was a crumpled, scorched wreck."

  "So, what do you think? Some kind of shield spell or something?" I was trying to recall all the things I'd experienced during my limited time in the Society. I was pretty sure a shield spell could provide that kind of protection. My own abilities were proof that magic could protect you against just about anything.

  "That's my working theory, yes," said Lucy. "So, even though there are sixteen thousand students running around the campus of Stanford, we are only interested in four of them. There's an envelope in the glove-box with a few of the things we'll need."

  I pulled the envelope out and dumped its contents into my lap: fake Stanford student IDs for Lucy and me and class schedules, plus other vital information on our four likely targets. I peered at my ID.

  "Really? I even have to be Jacob Black when we're undercover?"

  Lucy snickered. "It matches all your other ID, so it seemed like a no-brainer."

  I read the name off of her fake school ID: "Lucy Newton. Hey how come you get to use your real name?"

  "Newton is not my real name."

  "What? But that's what everyone calls you. Cynthia even called you that during the magic-if-you're-lying-you're-dead ceremony last month."

  It was embarrassing to realize that I had no idea what Lucy's real last name was. We'd been training every day for the past month, but I didn't really know much about her personal life. All I really knew was that she was older than she looked, and from a few passing comments, that she was a Los Angeles native. I had heard almost Wyatt's entire life story: the kid was a chatterbox, and he was only sixteen, so his life experience wasn't too vast.

  I figured there was no better time than a long car ride to get to know the kick-ass battle mage that was training me in all things magic- and Paragon-Society–related. "So," I ventured, "if Newton is a cover identity, what's your real last name?" I asked, with genuine interest.

  "I don't have one."

  "You don't have a last name?" I repeated. "Ooh, just like Madonna or Adele. That's cool," I teased.

  Lucy gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and she said in a controlled voice, "No, not like Madonna or Adele. I had a last nam
e. Now I don't."

  Whoa. I had apparently hit a nerve. I studied her profile, waiting for her to continue, but she didn't elaborate or glance in my direction.

  "That's it? You used to have a last name, but now you don't. No explanation?"

  "Orson, why the sudden interest in my name?"

  "Well, for starters, if Newton isn't really your name, how come you didn't get zapped with a death ray in the Council chamber?" I asked. "And while we're on the subject of the death ray, how come you were able to lie about me being the Ollphiest? Can Cynthia secretly control the spell?"

  Lucy took her eyes off the road for a moment to stare at me. "Huh," she said. "You really don't know, do you?"

  "Know what?"

  "Do you remember that I pressed my arm against you as I answered the question?" Lucy asked.

  I thought back to that night. It had been the night Mrs. Kelly died, so it was seared into my brain.

  "Yeah, but I didn't think anything of it. Why?"

  "The request for me to make the oath took me by surprise," Lucy explained. "I had to think fast. I'd seen you shrug off magic so . . ."

  I looked at her, horrified, as I realized what she was saying.

  Lucy continued. "I took a calculated risk, gambling on the fact that you were what you said you were: a shifter that was immune to magic – the Ollphiest. So, I leaned into you in the hope that your aura would protect me. And it worked."

  "You . . . hoped . . . a calculated risk . . ." I stammered, dumbfounded at the trust she had placed in my abilities. "What if I'd been wrong? What if my very limited understanding of what I thought I could do was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo?" I asked.

  "But it wasn't."

  I sat quietly for a while, considering what Lucy had just shared. Not only did the Society not know the extent of my power, but they apparently didn't even know Lucy's real name.

  "So, the Society doesn't know who you are?" I asked Lucy.

  "Of course they know who I am. I've spent three decades in their service," Lucy said, the edge returning to her voice.

  "Yeah, but they all think your name is Newton. And if they didn't assign that as your cover ID, then where did the name come from?"

  "Why are you obsessing about a name?" Lucy said, unsuccessfully trying to turn the conversation around on me.

  "I'm not obsessing," I insisted. "It's a long way to Stanford and I thought maybe we could get to know each other better. You know, like colleagues and friends normally do."

  Lucy sighed. "You know all you need to know. I'm a battle mage sworn to protect the Society, even if that means protecting it from itself. And I think I've proven that you can trust me. Everything else is irrelevant."

  "How can it be irrelevant?" I asked. "I don't even know if you have any family or how you—"

  I had to grab the dashboard to stop from being flung sideways as Lucy swerved across several lanes of traffic, sliding to a stop on the shoulder of the highway.

  Lucy turned on me. "I don't talk about my past. Period." Her voice was thick with emotion. "Do we understand each other?"

  "Yeah, sure. I'm sorry I brought it up."

  Lucy opened her water bottle and took a long swallow. "We need gas, and it's almost lunch time. What do you say we stop at the next town?" she asked, now all normal like, as if she hadn't just freaked out.

  I decided if she wanted to pretend that everything was cool, then I would follow her lead. I said, "You know me. I never turn down an opportunity eat."

  "Okay, then," Lucy said, checking her mirrors before pulling back onto the road.

  My declared major before becoming the giant supernatural bear-monster of the magic world had been computer science. I knew my way around the net and my coding skills weren't half bad. I figured it would only take me a couple of hours to create a search algorithm that I could set loose in the wild. It would be able to quickly and efficiently peek into all the dark corners of the Internet and bring me back any and all information on Lucy Newton.

  If I was going to be fighting by her side, and trusting her to have my back, I needed to know as much as I could. I convinced myself I wasn't being stalker-ish. I was doing research that directly impacted my personal safety. Nothing wrong with that at all.

  Ten miles up the road; Lucy followed the signs to a small cluster of fast food restaurants and gas stations.

  "What are you hungry for?" Lucy asked.

  "I'm good with anything, but that In-N-Out looks real good," I responded, my mouth starting to water at the thought of a triple cheeseburger with a side of animal-style fries.

  "A burger sounds great." Lucy turned into the parking lot.

  The place was packed. Lucy circled the lot looking for a spot, scowling at a beat-up old motorhome that was taking up three spaces. Finally, we found an empty space at the back of the building.

  "That looks kind of tight," I said.

  "Behold the beauty of the Mini," said Lucy, as she expertly whipped the tiny car into the space.

  "Impressive." I gave a mock clap.

  As we headed for the front door, my super sniffer caught a ripe, pungent smell.

  "Ugh. Can you smell that?" I asked, pinching my nose.

  "What?"

  I looked around and spotted a couple of trash bins on the other side of the parking-space-hog motorhome. "They seriously need a trash pickup, I think. Something stinks."

  "It must be your sensitive bear nose, because I'm not getting anything," said Lucy, sniffing at the air.

  The line of people inside wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. We got our food ordered – I decided to up my order to two triple cheeseburgers – and grabbed a table by the soda machine. One of the things I loved about In-N-Out was how quickly they made your food. The cute girl behind the counter called our number and I retrieved our tray of juicy, cheesy goodness. Lucy rolled her eyes at the size of my two burgers.

  "What?" I asked, as I took a big, satisfying bite.

  "Nothing." Lucy smiled, popping a French fry in her mouth.

  I was half way through my first burger when the same ripe smell from outside made me gag. I had to spit out what was in my mouth so I didn't choke.

  Lucy grimaced. "That is so gross. You need to slow down. Nobody's going to steal your food."

  I took a big swig of Dr. Pepper to help clear my throat.

  "It's that same smell as before." I turned around to see what could be causing it. The restaurant was still busy: the tables were full of chewing, chatting customers. I checked the door to the parking lot: it was closed, but a group of three people had just entered and were clustered around the entrance. The three were what Aunt Tina would graciously describe as big-boned. And they had to be related: they were all over six feet and had stringy black hair and flat faces with big bulging eyes. And even though it made no sense, I was pretty sure the stink was coming from them.

  Lucy grabbed my hand, squeezing hard, pulling my attention from the stinky trio. I looked back at her and realized something not good was about to go down.

  "What do you smell, exactly?" Lucy whispered.

  "I don't know. It's kind of like rotting meat with a side of sweaty gym socks. Why?"

  "The three that just came in, standing by the door . . . their appearance and the smell you just described . . . I think they're ogres."

  I blinked. "Excuse me? Did you say ogres? Like Shrek?"

  "Do you even open the books I give you to study?" Lucy hissed.

  "Yeah, but I must not have gotten to the part about ogres," I snapped back.

  "Sshh. Not so loud, they have excellent hearing."

  Ogres? Even though Lucy was convinced that I ignored the material she insisted I read, that was not the case. But the Paragon Society was older than written history; it had been around literally forever. And in all that time, nobody had thought to digitize any of the information. Seriously, Lucy had hauled two boxes of books to my apartment.

  "The Society needs to hire a team to put all this in an eBook format. You guys would
save a ton of space," I had complained at the time.

  With a history older than civilization, the books Lucy provided didn't contain the entire chronicle of the Society. Instead, each book was like a snapshot from a certain period of time, giving an overall idea of the Society's basic function. It wasn't a total shock to find out that the rise and fall of empires, all the major wars, and even the freaking space race had been influenced in some way by the Society and its ruling Councils.

  While all of that was fascinating, I wanted information about my kind, about shape-shifters and our place in the Society. So, I had flipped through the books, skimming until I found stuff related to my desired topic. I did, however, glean one thing from all my skimming and that was an understanding that the world was full of magical creepy-crawlies who, for the most part, remained hidden from the population at large. I guess I should have been more diligent in my studying because I definitely didn't expect to run into ogres at the In-N-Out.

  I leaned across the table, keeping my voice low. "So, from your reaction, I'm assuming ogres at burger joints isn't a normal thing?"

  "Very not normal. Ogres are classified as Low-Creatures. They aren't supposed to leave specific designated areas."

  "Low-Creatures? That sounds all kinds of racist. And what, they're supposed to stay on some sort of ogre reservation?" I was not impressed. I knew the Society was guilty of some serious classism and outright snobbery, but Low-Creatures?

  The witch speaks truth. We must kill the abominations.

  Seriously? Abominations? There are those who would consider us an abomination.

  Only fools deserving of death. We are Ollph –

  Ollphiest, yes I know. You really don't need to remind me of that all the time I get it, now.

  "Are you listening to me?" Lucy demanded.

  Oh crap. She had said something I missed while reprimanding my inner psycho.

  "Um . . ." I pathetically replied.

  Lucy huffed in disgust. "I was explaining that the reason why ogres aren't allowed to roam free is because they like to eat people, specifically brains."

  "Like zombies? Well, that would explain the smell." I peeked over my shoulder. The three ogres were next in line to order. "Why are they buying burgers, then?"