She sighed. “That didn’t go so well last time.”
“Shh...focus,” he whispered. “Understand what form the magic has taken. Do you feel it coiled around me?”
As if it were another arm, she felt the warmth of his wrist and the grip she had around it. She nodded.
“Good,” he said, his voice soothing and calm. “I feel the connection, too. Now, we’re going to move on to the next step.”
“I’m not siphoning your life force like some damned energy vampire again,” Cora replied.
“Not at all. Today, I want you to bond with me like never before,” Crowley replied. “Picture the line between us makes you a mirror. Feel what I feel. Start with my arm.”
It sounded preposterous. She’d only learned how to make magic leave her body and go elsewhere months before she met Crowley. There was no way she’d gotten to a point where she could feel something happening to him. Over and over, she imagined it like she was told, reciting the imagery to herself. She was a mirror. Whatever feeling touched him, transmitted across their connection. She pictured the icy ball of magic at her chest like a full-length mirror. In doing so, the power took its desired shape within her.
Her left hand tingled. As the sensory input became more pronounced, it became a chill at the center of her palm.
“I think my hand is going to sleep,” she said, distracted. She wiggled her fingers. “My hand is getting cold.”
Crowley leaned into her. His breath touched the side of her face. He whispered, “I’m holding an ice cube.”
Cora scoffed in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”
“Feel its shape in my hand.”
She paid closer attention, stunned by the revelation. Closing her hand into a fist, the borders around the ice cube became defined. When her finger pressed to the top of where it would be, she felt the chill. Excited by her progress, she laughed and opened her eyes. When she looked in her hand, nothing was there. She turned to Crowley, sitting beside her with his legs crossed. In his left hand, he clutched an ice cube.
The Professor bowed his head and set the ice back into a glass on his coffee table. Cora looked around his quarters for something else he could try.
“Oh, the heating vent over there!” Cora gushed, pointing to the far end of the room.
Crowley smiled. “I’m going to show you something...more advanced. Do you still have hold of the magic?”
“Yes. It’s not too difficult to maintain.”
“Good,” he said, getting up to his feet with a grunt. He shifted to sitting on the edge of the coffee table and faced her. From his suit pocket, he produced a knife and unfolded it.
Cora shifted in her seat. “What are you doing with that?”
“Showing you practical application...and testing a theory,” he said. He set down the knife beside him and took off his suit jacket. He unbuttoned the sleeve of his blue dress shirt and rolled up the cuff to his elbow. Picking up the knife in his opposite hand, he pressed the blade against his forearm.
“Professor, what are you-”
He made a shallow cut into his flesh. Cora raised her arm to stop him, but reeled back in pain. The same cut opened on her arm, appearing from nothing. She sucked air through her teeth and clutched at the wound. Massaging it with her thumb, her regeneration kicked in and went to work closing it. With each stroke it felt better, and with each pass, it closed on Crowley’s arm, too. Cora’s mouth fell open.
“It seems I was right,” he said, a smile that he was quite pleased with himself.
“If you were wrong, that would have just hurt me and left you bleeding all over the place,” Cora said, her brow furrowed. “How many times do you want me carrying you to sickbay?”
“Nonsense. I’m fine,” he said with a dismissive wave. He got up from the table and took a seat on the other end of the room. He beckoned her to join him, motioning to the couch beside the coffee table.
Crowley’s quarters and office were one and the same. The front was a sprawling living room. Unlike the couches and holovid screens most people had in their rooms, his was an eclectic mix of banners and scrolls hanging from the walls. All of them were in different languages, each of them from a different religion. Buddhist, Jewish, Islamic, and Christian proverbs from all around the world carried a message, most in languages she could not read. The rug was a wide open space capable of seating a dozen in lotus position, which he did often. Crowley wasn’t happy unless he was teaching.
“Can you read all of these?” she asked, pointing at the scrolls as she was getting up.
“I’ve been blessed,” he replied. “My artifact came from a worldly man. I know many languages I did not before I acquired it. You’re trying to change the subject before we’ve even begun.”
Cora sat on the couch, her face gloomy. “That’s because I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Still struggling to resist calling him?” Crowley asked, and so began him turning from her magic instructor to her shrink. He grabbed a tissue and cleaned his arm.
She sighed. “I mean, I know he’s alright. I saw him on GNN doing an interview a week or two back. It’s probably better we’re not talking right now. We only seem to get into conversations right before we try to kill each other.”
“Did you read that article I sent you?”
“I did,” Cora replied with some hesitation. She shook her head. “I get what you were trying to say, but it’s not like that. This isn’t Stockholm Syndrome and I’m not a battered wife. I don’t love him, and the abuse he’s put me through was wrong. I know all of that. I also know there’s something I’m missing, some part of this war between us. It’s like he knows how and why it started, and I don’t yet.”
Crowley leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his legs. “Cora, do you expect to find out that it was your fault? That however this started, it was you that wronged him?”
That was a difficult concept to mull over, one she hadn’t put much thought into. If Merlin was right, at some point in her future she would travel to the past and meet him. She asked herself what she’d do if Lucius was there, too. As her mind rounded up the possibilities, the big picture took shape. She broke from her thoughts and sat back, crossing her arms.
“Hey! That wasn’t fair,” she said. “Why’d you put that idea in my head?”
Crowley exhaled a long breath from his nose. “I want you to accept the possibility that even thinking like that plays into this narrative. You didn’t deserve anything he did to you.”
“Of course I didn’t!” Cora raised her voice. “I keep telling you, it’s not like that!”
“I want you to be open to the possibility that what you often refer to as ‘fate’ may be a self-fulfilling prophecy, rather than a prediction of the future,” he said, keeping his tone calm and cool. “We know your father predicts the future, as did the older gentleman in Heaven’s Crest.”
“Pops.”
“Yes, Pops. That doesn’t mean that fate decides what you’re having for breakfast today. Most importantly, it can’t decide what you feel, and how you act on those feelings.”
Cora stood up. “Professor, you know I love you, but I think I’ve had enough psycho-babble bullshit for one day.”
The Professor got up with her. “What about the drinking?”
“Look, you say I have PTSD and need therapy,” Cora replied, her body animated with growing irritation. “I say I had some bad stuff happen and I need a bottle of whiskey. Can’t we just say ‘close enough’ and move on?”
She tried crossing the living area for the door. The Professor moved slower than her, but tried to keep up.
“Cora, I only want to make sure you’re alright. Prepared, even,” he pleaded. Cora stopped and let him catch up. “I don’t want the dark deeds of that dragon getting in your head, making you think that his actions are your fault.”
She shook her head and took a moment to breathe. Calmer, she leaned in a pecked him on the cheek. “I don’t. I promise. Same time Tuesd
ay?”
The old man didn’t want to let it go, but he clamped his mouth and put on a smile. “Indeed. I’ll be here.”
As the door opened, Cora startled to find seven knights outside the door, all at parade rest. Her first fear was that they were there for her, but a few eager looks into the room told her otherwise. He was a popular man on the station. So popular it made Julian uncomfortable.
Cora walked past the adoring crowd and into the hallway. The artificial light bounced off the vile paint of the corridors. It reminded her of baby food, like strained peas. It was the worst kind of green, with a hint of grey thrown in to make it worse.
After a conversation like Crowley brought up, her instinct was to do one of two things - go to her favorite spot on the station, or crack a bottle. Drinking at eight in the morning was out of the question. She didn’t have many rules for herself, but she had to draw a line somewhere. So, she was off to the big window.
She hadn’t made it more than thirty paces before her comm beeped. She tapped the button, already knowing who it was.
“Yes, Gideon?”
“How’d you know it was me?” his tinny, robotic voice replied. He was in NeuralNet, as usual. She wondered if he ever even used his body for much anymore.
“Well, because you’re the only person who not only knows my schedule, but is monitoring the movements of every living thing on the station. You know I just left my instruction with Crowley,” she replied.
Gideon sighed. “Either you’re a good detective or I’m getting awfully predictable. Anyway, I put together your itinerary for next week.”
Cora continued down the busy hall, past knights and engineers. She opted to break left off the main drag, where there would be less people and noise. It was the long way to her special spot, through the crew quarters, but she needed the peace of mind.
“Did you make it so I can stop at Heaven’s Crest?”
“Absolutely, you’ll have three days there,” Gideon replied. “Then it’s off to Arizona for your first delivery.”
“What’s the artifact and who is the holder?” Cora asked.
“Artifact is a late 19th century pistol, and the holder is a George Earp,” Gideon replied.
Cora snickered. “That’s a little on-the-nose.”
“I know, right?” Gideon laughed back. “Then you have a pickup in the California Free Lands, I already fabricated a license for you. The standard stealth-and-snatch, should be low security. It’s a wax museum from the 20th.”
“Sounds like you’re throwing me softballs,” Cora replied with a raised eyebrow.
There was a pause. Even with a coprocessor in his brain, Gideon sucked at lying.
“Gideon?” Cora scolded.
“Don’t blame me, okay? Julian wants to play this easy, being your first time out and all,” he replied.
Cora rolled her eyes. “First he doesn’t trust me, now he’s coddling me.”
“We’ll just play it his way for this first round,” Gideon said. “Every person counts, right?”
“Yeah,” Cora sighed. Turning down the final corridor to her hideaway, she noticed Julian far ahead, coming toward her. He was pushing Merlin around in his wheelchair. “Speak of the devil, here he comes now. Upload that itinerary to my Arcadia and I’ll talk to you later.”
“C’mon, Cora,” Gideon guffawed. “You know it’s already there. Talk to you later.”
Cora tapped the comm button and continued her walk. It would seem she was the popular woman today, unless Julian just happened to be on the other end of the station than she’d normally find him. It seemed she’d have to earn that peace of mind this morning. As they drew closer, she waved and put on a smile.
“Good morning,” she said, catching Merlin’s gaze. “How’s my favorite storybook wizard this morning?”
The old man smiled, though even that took effort. His health had significantly declined in the past two months. It was rare to see him out of the wheelchair anymore. His still wore his expensive British suits around the station, keeping up appearances.
“The young man was just showing me the big window you’re so fond of,” he replied. “I can see why you like it.”
“It’s my only connection to nature on this whole station,” Cora said. “All this recycled air and artificial light and the whir of electricity...I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this place.”
Julian put his hands on his hips. “It’s a technological marvel.”
“Machines...eww,” Cora said, gesticulating with her hands for effect. “I think that about sums up how I feel about that.”
Julian offered a pregnant pause in response. He had gotten better about curbing his knee-jerk comments and choosing words more carefully. “Were you with the Professor again?”
“I was,” Cora bowed her head.
Julian shook his head. “I don’t like the way some of the men talk about him. Idolizing him. You’d think he was a cult leader or something.”
“You know it’s not like that,” Cora shook head. “His artifact and magic has given him...certain perspectives and philosophies that young soldiers are naturally drawn to, that’s all. It’s not a cult. He talks about life, Julian.”
“You remember what he had done to those soldiers when we found him,” Julian reminded.
“I know full well. I do not want to get into this with you again, Julian. This place is already making me edgy. I have cabin fever!”
“Well, you won’t have to stay here much longer,” Julian replied.
Cora stepped to his side and lowered her voice. “Yeah, about that - what’s this I hear that you’re throwing me softballs?”
Julian responded in kind by leaning closer to her, intimating, “Look, it’s not you. We still don’t have the first clue who the mole is, and if you’re going to be in the open, alone, then I’d prefer it be easy stuff in case something goes sideways. Let’s dip our toe in the water first, shall we?”
“Ugh,” Cora said, sticking out her tongue. “Fair enough.”
Julian moved back behind Merlin and grabbed hold of the chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take this doddering fool back to his office.”
“You see, Cora?” Merlin teased, looking over his chair. “No respect for the elderly. Still joining me for a game of chess tomorrow?”
Cora laughed and pointed at him. “We’re still on. Count on it.”
“You’ll lose,” Julian said, dry and confident.
“I’ll learn something,” Cora corrected. She smiled and turned around, continuing her path down the hall.
Finally, she’d made it. No other part of the station had a view like this. From floor to ceiling, the curved window stood at twelve feet tall and twenty feet wide. Every day around this time, she’d come to look outside and clear her head. Before she could even begin to appreciate her reverie, her Arcadia buzzed on her wrist. She groaned and swiped out the screen to check the caller.
Sitting Bear.
Without a thought, she pressed the comm button. “Hello?”
“Am I doing this right?” Still River’s voice came through.
“Dad?” Cora asked.
“Cora? Oh, good,” he said. Laughing to himself, he continued, “Your uncle just got the new Arcadia. Old men and technology, you know how that goes. It’s the blind leading the blind over here.”
She laughed back and ran her fingers through her black hair. “I’m just glad this phone call didn’t start with ‘I had a dream about you.’ My plate is pretty full at the moment.”
“I know, hon,” he replied. “Will you be back to Heaven’s Crest anytime soon? No pressure.”
“No, it’s fine,” Cora said. “I’m coming for a few days this coming week, actually. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too. I’m sure your mother does, too. Have you talked to her?” Still River asked.
Cora rolled her eyes recalling the memory. “Not since last week. She’s very focused on her career at the moment. She said she won’t go in
to hiding and doesn’t give a damn what Lucius does. So, we decided to fight over it, instead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied. “She was always her own woman.”
“If you mean stubborn as hell, yes, she is,” Cora sighed. “I just want to keep her safe. She’s not going to walk away from her career, though.”
“You...haven’t told her about me, have you?” Still River asked.
“I don’t even know how, Dad,” she replied. Her mother had a right to know. But with even less understanding about magic and spirits than Cora had, how could a normal person accept that her daughter ate dinner and played cards with the ghost of her dead husband?
“Well, how are you adjusting to your new place?”
Cora stared out the window. Since launching the Atlantis Protocol, this window was her safe haven. Every morning, she came to this place at the same time. She looked out to the grayish color of the sea floor. She watched the dance of the various undersea plants moving with the deep currents. She marveled at schools of fish wandering by, rarely of the same species, always excited to see what sizes and colors came to visit today. And every day for over a week now, at the same time, a curious mermaid with dark brown hair wandered past the glass. Her smooth, soft face and torso were so similar to a human, yet alien and different. Today was no different. The brunette wagged her tail with a gentle touch, drifting past the window and staring right into Cora’s eyes. Cora smiled and waved to her. The skittish mermaid panicked, turned her body in a corkscrew and disappeared to the darkened depths beyond.
“Dad,” Cora sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
THE END
About the Author
The Master of Kung Fu and Friendship was born in the smog-wastes of New Jersey, then journeyed to a mountain in Asia. There, he learned of the power of friendship, and knowing is half is the battle. The other half is Kung Fu.
He now resides in a dojo in North Carolina, where he has sired a future champion with his Mistress of Friendship. He writes of fantasy and humor, strong women and dragons.
The Pendragon Codex Page 23
