"The phone numbers of women? You are having a hard time finding a woman? You're a mage, women should be very interested in finding someone like yourself."
"Yeah, I wouldn't be like advertising that in public, man. Magic is sort of a not-cool thing. Most folks don't believe in it anymore, especially since it all started to fade a decade ago. Bring that up to a girl in the wrong place and they lock you up in a padded room in the nut hut. I'm just a nerdy accountant that grew up on Pokémon and jerking it to Miley Cyrus. You must be new. Are you new?"
"I'm really quite old, Abe, but I've only been up and about a bit lately. What is this Pokémon you speak of?"
Chapter Fifteen
Sergeant Henry "Spoon" Spooner
Watching the hobo-turned-bouncer had suddenly paid off.
Henry Spooner followed Tesser as Tesser ran after a man who'd been watching him outside the pizza shop. It was fairly easy to keep up with the two as they played their strange form of tag. Tesser had no trouble keeping up with the geek wearing the Bazinga shirt. In fact, he made it look laughably easy.
This is really weird. First, the nerd is stalking Mr. Gold Eyes; now, Gold Eyes is chasing the nerd. I wonder if the kid has something to do with the rapist that got away? Little brother maybe?
Spoon slowed his pace and kept his distance as the kid ran into an alley with Tesser no more than a dozen paces behind.
Tesser isn’t pissed at this kid. At least he doesn't seem pissed. What the hell is going on here?
Spoon trotted across the street and slid up to the end of the alley, thankful for the city noise that was masking his movement. He heard the young man yell something in a foreign language from the end of the alley. Tesser yelled something back. From the tone of the voices, Spoon knew a confrontation was moments away. The compact police detective crept to the edge of the building and crouched low, his gun hand drifting to the grip of his service SIG. Spoon preferred the 1911 clone GSR to the Glocks that his fellow officers liked so much.
"Commoveo!" The cop heard the young man yell.
Tesser replied, but his voice was different. It echoed, resounded, casted out of the narrow alley like the trumpeting of a college band marching, "Stop saying the damn word and cast the DAMN SPELL!"
Spoon watched, frozen in time as the young man did exactly what Tesser told him to do.
In that moment, Spoon's entire existence changed.
The alley and everything in it was hit by an unnatural force as the kid swept his arm through the air. Dirty recycling bins tipped over or flew up into the air and disgorged their contents all about. Cans and newspapers flew like missiles through the air. Tesser stood in the center of it, grinning ear-to-ear like a jovial orchestra conductor, all the while being pelted by rotten garbage. After a few seconds, the debris dropped to the ground as if a strong gust of wind had blown through the alleyway, given up, and moved on. But Spoon knew differently.
What he had seen threw into doubt his entire Catholic upbringing. It violated everything he knew about the natural order of the universe, and deep in his quivering heart, he was confused. War and death was one thing; this was another.
What. The. Fuck.
"There. Much better," Tesser said calmly, as if the miracle that had just happened was the most normal and likely thing that could've happened.
Spoon rolled away from the corner of the building and stood. Somehow, he'd drawn his sidearm. He started walking away from the alley, but could only manage the slow pace for a few steps.
He began to jog.
Then he started to run. He couldn't escape his fears that day, no matter how fast he ran.
Chapter Sixteen
Mr. Doyle
Mr. Doyle sat in a leather armchair that originated in the sitting room of a British king from a different century. Antique collectors would've salivated at the providence of the furniture but to the aged and aging wizard, it was simply a gift from an old friend. He ran his fingers along the decorative brass pins at the edge of the arm and allowed his mind to wander.
I can feel it. Whatever it is. Something different in the world, something new.
Mr. Doyle was in his third study, the study he went to in order to think. It was adjacent to the room where he kept many of his fading magical treasures and beside his office where he did all of his reading and writing. Mr. Doyle felt that each room should have a singular purpose. To mix was to dilute purpose. And purpose was the heart of everything.
It has brought magic with it. A pulse of energy, a hole in the proverbial dam.
He reached over and lifted a small glass goblet of deep red wine. He swirled the rich French Bordeaux and allowed the liquid to coat the sides of the glass. The glass was the delivery vehicle for the magic he'd used to stretch his life. It was how he'd skipped so many years of aging. But the magic was fading, and Father Time was collecting all those avoided years, posthaste.
He sipped from the glass gently. The alcohol coupled with the enchantment gave his throat the tiniest of tingles.
So little of the burn I need. At this rate, I won't last more than a few years. Less, likely.
Mr. Doyle heard the front door of his substantial brownstone home open and shut. Inside his chest, he felt the magic barrier the door represented open and close as well. The door was wide and thick; it was made of stained and carved ash. Ash had power. Ash had purpose.
That must be Abraham. I wonder where he's been off to?
Mr. Doyle hadn't had a proper cohabitant in over a decade. He abhorred servants, and previous apprentices had either gone off to study the world on their own or had perished as a result of foolish decisions or ignorance of his advice. But he had grown very fond of Abraham. He represented the next generation of mages: those who wielded technology and science more proficiently than the arcane arts. It saddened Mr. Doyle to think like that.
Is that two sets of feet I hear ascending the stairs?
Mr. Doyle got to his feet with a grunt and several painful cracks of the back. He sat his wine glass down and grimaced from the aching arthritis that had set in fiercely over the past two years.
Growing old is the work of evil.
"Mr. Doyle? Are you home?" Abraham's voice called out from the second floor landing.
"I'm here, Abraham. Did I hear you return with a guest? I don't think I've spoken to you about how I feel about guests yet."
Youth never respects the sanctity of a home until he owns one of his own.
"I'll apologize after," Abe said as he walked into the thinking room alone.
"You left someone in my home unsupervised?" Mr. Doyle said, a hint of anger creeping into his tone.
"I found the man with the golden eyes."
Mr. Doyle's breath escaped his lungs, all his strength drained away. He sat down suddenly and felt his heart flutter unhealthily.
"I uh I didn't know what to do with him. I don't think he would've let me come home without him either. He… insists he has to speak with you." Abe looked guilty and excited at the same time, as if he were a child that had just been caught with a rescued puppy. More guilty than anything.
Idiot. This could get us killed. I've been so remiss in my training of this poor boy. It's inexcusable.
"What can you tell me of him?" Mr. Doyle sputtered as his heart tried to calm itself.
Abe switched gears. He was clearly animated and excited about the golden-eyed man. "His name is Tesser. He's… funny. He also said he's really old, but he doesn't look much older than I am. I think he's some kind of magic-user. A powerful one."
"Apparent age means nothing. I look old but am far older. How do you know he's a magic-user? Has he been able to cast a spell in your presence? You're not geased, are you?" Mr. Doyle stood, grimacing again, and started to dredge up the memory of how to test a subject for magical compulsions.
Abe shook his head, "No, no. No spells. I don't know how to describe him. Just being around him you can… I can feel the magic. I feel stronger. More capable. It's really crazy."
Mr. Doyle wrung his fingers, anxious and a fair bit excited.
This is not how we bloody do these kinds of things.
"Well if he's here, I suppose it's a bit too late to change the course of history in this regard. I will tell you this; I am fetching one of my most powerful wands from my collection, and should this man strike me as dangerous, it may come to a confrontation, Abraham. Prepare yourself."
Abe smiled. "I don't think that'll be necessary. I'll bring him to the dining room. He said he was hungry. We just ate pizza too."
"Fine, feed this Tesser character while I fetch my good wand."
Abe simply nodded and left the room. Mr. Doyle went for the wand.
I hope the wand still has enough power. I know I don’t.
*****
Mr. Doyle rounded the entrance to his dining room and steadied his breathing. Concentration would be paramount should danger arise.
I’m actually nervous. Scared. Who is this man?
"Good day, sir. I am told your name is Tesser," Mr. Doyle said as he laid eyes on the man sitting at his dining room table.
Tesser stood from the dining room table, and Mr. Doyle was able to assess him.
He is nearly perfect. A shade over six foot, slim but very muscled. His hair, blonde and well styled, though in a way that looks accidental. He is dressed strangely though. He wears shorts that are clearly a size too large and a shirt with stains on it. So strange that a man so physically well put together, would wear ill-fitting, ill-kept clothing. And his eyes! So golden! So deep and true. His smile is disarming. Abraham is correct. This man exudes some strange power.
"You are Mr. Doyle?" Tesser asked, a friendly expression on his face.
"I am indeed. I am intrigued by your visit, young man. Return to your seat; you need not stand for me," Mr. Doyle said as he pulled out a chair across from Tesser's. As the guest sat, the mage pulled out a thin, mahogany wand and sat it on the table. The simple stick of wood carried a vague menace.
Tesser looked at the wand briefly and sat as well. "Your apprentice here," Tesser gestured to Abe, "is a good man. You’ve chosen wisely in spreading your art with him. Well done."
Mr. Doyle nodded. "Thank you. Though I am feeling as if bringing such an unknown entity such as yourself into the comfort of my inner sanctum here was a bit of an error on his part."
Tesser grinned and nodded. "I understand. My bad."
Strange use of the phrase. It seemed… inexperienced.
"Nevertheless, you are here, and at quite an auspicious time indeed. Abraham has done some valuable legwork and has discovered several strange connections that we felt might have been connected to you. Are you here to discuss these things?"
Tesser narrowed his eyes before responding. "Mr. Doyle, I want to know where all the magic has gone. That is why I am here."
Mr. Doyle's heart fluttered again. Tesser's statement sounded a fair amount like an accusation, "Mr. Tesser, your statement is difficult to answer."
I sound guilty. I feel guilty.
Abe chimed in, "We aren't responsible for this, if that's what you think, Tesser. I told you about a lot of this earlier, when we ate pizza?"
Tesser's eyes never left Mr. Doyle, though he spoke to the apprentice, "Abe, you have your answers and your mentor has his. I would like very much to hear his answers now. I'm not trying to be a dick, Abe, but you clearly know jack shit about what's really going on in the world."
"Dude, that hurts."
Tesser looked over at Abe finally. "I'm sorry, but I need to hear what Mr. Doyle has to say. I suspect he is aware of far more than he's let on."
Tesser might be surprised how bloody little I do know about this.
"I'm sorry if this seems accusatory, Mr. Doyle, especially after your hospitality. But I've been a bit bamboozled by the state of the world of late, and I would love some answers." Tesser leaned forward.
Mr. Doyle caught the scent of brewing coffee in the air.
A hot cup of coffee does sound good.
Mr. Doyle spoke, "Just over ten years ago, magic began to fade from the world. Only the powerful spells at first, then the lesser ones. Creatures of myth began to fade from view steadily and now most if not all appear to be gone. Beyond that, there is little I can offer you other than specific knowledge of how my own magical abilities have abandoned me."
"Others have experienced the same in the past ten years?" Tesser asked.
"It appears to be universal. All continents, all kinds of magic."
Tesser sat back in his chair, deep in contemplation. Abe stood and left for the kitchen.
I hope he's getting the coffee.
While Abe was away, Mr. Doyle's courage found him. He leaned in and whispered a question to the enigmatic man at his dining table, "Who are you? Who are you really?"
Tesser's eyes wandered the room, deep in thought. After a few awkward moments, he pointed his golden orbs at the elder wizard. "I am Tesser. Really."
"What are you then? You're a wizard, aren't you? Some kind of foreign spell-caster I've never met before. Are you Roma? You don't have the hair or complexion for it, but that slight accent makes me wonder…"
"Roma?" The man with the golden eyes looked confused.
"Eastern European descent. A gypsy."
"Ahh. I've read some about them. No, I am not a gypsy. I am…" Tesser stopped as Abe returned holding a fancy silver platter. He had several coffee cups, as well as sugar and milk.
"Coffee, gentlemen. Sorry it took so long," Abe said as he sat the platter down.
"Thanks, Abe," Tesser said as he picked up a cup of the strong brew.
"Thank you, Abraham," Mr. Doyle said as he too picked up a cup. He added a slight pour of milk to the cup, as well as a single cube of sugar.
I love sugar cubes. Perfect doses of sweetness that are error-proof. Pity they aren't as prolific as they once were. Might help with the gluttony epidemic.
As he stirred, he pressed the man, "Tesser, I asked you a question. What exactly are you? Who do you represent?"
"The second question is far easier to answer. Mr. Doyle, in short, I represent life. The persistent, clawing, slithering, growing, fucking and birthing forms of life that shall inherit this Earth long after man has evolved into something unrecognizable. I wish for the world to be in balance, and I represent one of the forces that maintain that balance."
Mr. Doyle, utterly perplexed, sat his spoon down on a napkin and looked up at Tesser. "What group represents balance? An order of mages I've never heard of?"
Tesser shook his head. "No, Mr. Doyle. There are no mages I can call my true peers in this regard. Only my brothers and sisters, of a kind."
He looks sad. And what does 'of a kind' mean?
"Who are your brothers and sisters?" Mr. Doyle sipped his hot drink. It was good.
Tesser sipped his own coffee, and nodded at Abe in approval. "Mr. Doyle I have six… siblings. Six equals. Six allies the birth of whom I cannot recall, as we came into existence simultaneously."
"Seven children at once? All gifted with the skill to wield magic? That speaks of epic sorcery almost beyond reckoning. What spells brought about your family? Who are your parents? Tell me, please; I must know."
"Magic did not exist until we were born. More specifically, until Kaula was born. My dearest Amethyst." Tesser looked down at the center of his drink. He swirled the cup with a sad expression in his eyes.
"Wait. What did you say?" Abe interjected. "Amethyst?"
"As my eyes are gold, her eyes are amethyst. We were close, Kaula and I." Tesser sipped his coffee again.
They were in love. Or, at the very least, loved each other very deeply as a brother and sister might. I wonder which it is?
"Tesser, do you know about a circle of seven stones in Germany?" Abe asked excitedly.
"I do not know where Germany is, but I do know of a circle of seven stones. The humans of the day referred to them as the Origination Stones. One for each of my brother and sisters. Quite unique artifacts. Indes
tructible. We believe they pre-date our births."
"A golden stone in that circle started to vibrate the other day. And ten years ago, one stopped vibrating. That stone has amethyst in it," Abe said testing the waters.
Tesser's face lost some of its color. He looked odd pale.
Mr. Doyle quickly took over the conversation. "I thought you said these people were your brothers and sisters. You speak of this Kaula as if she were your lover. I don't think your definition of siblings, or what is appropriate to do with them, is the same as it is where I am from." Mr. Doyle tried humor.
The sudden spark of hatred in Tesser's eyes spoke clearly. "Mind your comments about Kaula and my kind, Mr. Doyle. You tread on very thin ice when you speak of this, and I assure you, there will be no one strong enough to pull you out of the frigid waters of my anger."
Abe and Mr. Doyle swallowed nervously. The golden-eyed man's threat carried considerable weight in the quiet room. Only after a car horn in traffic honked outside did anyone dare to speak.
"I—I'm sorry. It was not my intent to offend."
Tesser kept a scowl for another few moments before relaxing. "Thank you. And I am sorry. Your news has disturbed me. I must contact Kaula immediately, and I don't think I can do it alone. Have you a spell of distant communication? Something that can connect two minds over great distances? It is unlikely she is anywhere close to me."
Mr. Doyle leaned forward, afraid no longer. "Yes I do, but it hasn't worked in nearly three years. I've been forced to use only the telephone. I fear the government has been eavesdropping on my most private of conversations."
Tesser sat his cup down. "Your spell will work with me helping, of that you can be sure. Begin your preparations please. I have put this off far long enough. Abe, I need to return to the pizzeria to let them know I can't work tonight. Will you accompany me?"
Abe nodded without thinking.
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