Second Sight: The Rune Sight Chronicles

by Boyd Craven III

  “So how does that help us?” Cindy asked, breaking her silence.

  “I’ve already interviewed the agent. I’d like to head to Massachusetts to interview the auction house. See if Vassago had registered to be there. Kind of how they figure out how much seating is at each event.”

  “You know an awful lot about this stuff,” Cindy said quietly.

  “I run in some pretty weird circles,” I told her and grinned when she gave me a look.

  I looked into the futures where I questioned her about what the look she gave me meant, but none were working out for me. She would shut the conversation down.

  “Okay, the rest of you should get prepared. When we’re ready, I’ll have Mage Kiersten open the gate for you there. I need to speak with Wright and Zania alone please.”

  “I’m staying,” Cindy said as everybody else rose.

  “Very well. Rose?”

  “All right, all right. You better have a good fruit basket in the break room though!” Rose said, pointing and stamping her foot in the air.

  “Fresh as of ten minutes ago,” Rasmussen said and grinned at her as her ire was wiped away from her expression.

  After she flew out, the four of us took our seats again. I could hear JJ in the lobby area, which had been completely restored and cleaned after the zombies. He was asking about the people who had worked in the phone center. With a pang, I realized they were probably all dead. Rasmussen saw my face and the direction I was looking and nodded at me sadly. Even if they came back as the undead, they were gone for good.

  Rasmussen looked over at me again and spoke, “Now that it's just us, Thomas, I want to talk to you a little bit about what Zania and I found inside your head.”

  “Yeah, and I'm kinda wondering why you asked the room to be cleared out to do it,” I said softly.

  “Is this the way the magical world operates?” Cindy asked. “Because this is just as messed up as everyday law enforcement, isn't it?”

  “It is pretty messed up,” Zania said softly, “but it's the best system we've got. So far.”

  “So what is it?” I asked Zania. “What was done to me?”

  Zania opened and closed her mouth a few times before she finally found the will to speak. “What you have to understand, is I'm working on fifty percent fact and fifty percent speculation. I'm really good, so I would think my speculation is as close to fact as possible. Saying all that though, when I was trying to heal you I looked inside your head to see why you were so drained. That was when I came across what felt like some sort of block. It was almost like a hypnotic suggestion, but it was placed there by a very powerful life or mind mage. I had to dissolve that to heal part of you that was touched by the death magic.”

  I looked over at Rasmussen, my eyebrow raising up.

  Rasmussen looked at me and shook his head. “It wasn't me,” he said softly. “Both of your parents would've had to have consented to have a block like this put in place. It would've happened not long after you were born. What we don't advertise to people is, under certain circumstances, with the right kind of magic, we can reliably predict what kind of magical gift the baby is going to have.”

  “And sometimes they don't have any magic at all,” Zania said and then sat forward on the edge of her seat. “So I don't know who put this in your head, but it was with your mother and your father's permission. I don't know any other way it could've been done, and it would take a very powerful mage to perform this, even more powerful than Rasmussen here.”

  “Would the Merlin have been powerful enough?” I asked both.

  Zania whistled, and then looked at me and did a double take. She decided I was being serious and then leaned forward again.

  “The Merlin now? Or the Merlin from like… When you were a kid?… Like 3,000 years ago.”

  The little shit.

  “The Merlin from when I was a kid,” I told her, giving her the stink eye.

  “The Merlin back then would've been powerful enough,” Rasmussen told me. “He would've been probably the one to have done it, with the help of others.”

  I had deliberately not mentioned the fact that the Merlin back then was my father. I didn't avoid that because I didn't trust Zania, but instead was wondering whether or not Rasmussen trusted her. It was a closely guarded secret, and maybe this one was just a bit too close, and he didn't want to risk it getting out there. Then again, there was no hiding something from a mind mage, with a life mage coming a close second.

  “With your parents’ consent, it would've been quite easy to do,” Zania said. “Especially by someone powerful and gifted. Most of the Merlin’s are usually some of the most magically gifted men and women of our age. In your case, I think your parents probably went to the Merlin and asked for this block or throttle to be put in place.”

  I looked at Rasmussen, and he gave me half a smile, only one side of his lip raising up.

  “Is that because most Seers go crazy by the time they turn thirty, or they kill themselves?” I asked, already knowing it was the answer.

  I looked at Zania right as I asked the last of it, and I saw her take a deep gulp, swallowing down her fear.

  “My theory, which seems to be backed up by anecdotal evidence, is that the block was put in place to have you avoid losing yourself with your gift. I haven't met very many Seers, but it's something that I studied in school. Even with the block in place, most Seers have mental issues. They just get lost inside themselves, and they never come out.”

  I looked her in the eye and then squeezed Cindy's hand gently. “It's not only that,” I told them both. “It's also because if you're not careful, you can see your own death. Every horrible way you might die. Or seeing those you love or care about ripped away from you. Families are torn apart, unspeakable horrors made known. Even while I was a kid, sometime after my mother was murdered, I went crazy for a while.”

  “I already know the answer to this,” Rasmussen said, looking at me, “but would you elaborate for Zania?”

  I looked over at her and took a deep sigh. “After my mother died, I was locked up in a mental hospital—"

  “Oh my God, Thomas,” Cindy said, squeezing my hand tighter. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine, but with my mom being murdered and people chasing me, it weighed heavily on my mind… And then my gift kicked in. For a while there, I was lost inside of myself. For almost two years. Two years of therapy, medication, of learning how to meditate, learning how to focus. I got out with a lot more control than I had going in.”

  Zania looked at me, the snark gone from her features. If you could describe the sarcastic, stupid look, she had been giving me during the first half of the session as snark. Now it was replaced with something a little more like pity. I didn't know if I liked that; I didn't like people feeling sorry for me.

  “So, your parents had the Merlin put a block and a throttle on your magic. They dialed it down so far that it gave you a fighting chance to learn how to cope with a gift, that drives 99% of the people who have it, to death. Have you experimented with your sight since the block has been gone?”

  Cindy leaned her head over on my shoulder for a moment, something that was a little silly to me seeing as she was taller than I was. I grinned and let go of her hand and put one arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze before letting go and sitting back up straight.

  “I haven’t,” I told them, “nothing longer than three minutes. There are too many branches, too many paths. It’s confusing.”

  “Go slow,” Rasmussen said, “You’ve survived longer than any seer in recent history because of this block, and it’d be a shame to jump too far and get lost.”

  “Trust me, I know. Kiddo-,” I said, turning toward Zania. “How good are you?”

  “Good enough to wipe the floor with you, old man.”

  “I mean, I’ve fought Vassago more than once now. He’s scary good. How are you in comparison?”

  She bit her lower lip and Cindy elbowed me in the ribs gently, t
elling me I might have made a mistake somehow, at least that’s how I took it.

  “I’m pretty good,” Zania said suddenly. “I’m not combat trained. I’m a healer by nature, but I know the theory.”

  “Yes, but as strong as you are with healing, I bet you can counter just about anything a death or life mage might throw around, right?” I asked, hoping to spin my too personal question around into something positive.

  “It all depends on timing and the application of magic,” she said. “Like how your sight allows you to avoid the bulk of your injuries.”

  “Bulk of his injuries? Were you hurt again?” Cindy asked, turning to me.

  “I was healed up, I told you—”

  She made a cutting motion and then smiled sweetly, and Zania snickered. “As mundane law enforcement, how can I help?” Cindy asked, turning to Rasmussen.

  “You can help much the same way you have already. If something in your area pops up that is supernatural in nature, give the information to Rose or Tom, and we’ll take care of it. Usually, we already have somebody call on the county sheriff of an area to read them into the magical community, but I don’t think there’s been any incidents in your area in very long time.”

  “Mage Kiersten told me about that,” Zania piped up. “He’s been taking care of issues quietly so nobody would come around and he’d then be discovered.”

  “Which in itself should have been a red flag to us,” Rasmussen said, now pinching the bridge of his nose which made me almost snort at the familiar gesture.

  “Now, is there any magical laws or treaty hang-ups I need to know before we all head to Massachusetts?” I asked him.

  “As an Alpha Mage, you are in a unique position. Your status as an Alpha is evident in your aura, yet you are a mage. Both races would do well to avoid your team, and your neutral status as an enforcer and an anomaly in the treaty should give you time enough to get out of any sticky situations with locals, plus your enforcer pendant. I should add, avoid exposing the magical world to the mundanes, make sure to alert the Bureau if there are any incidents that need a mind mage to touch up memories… The rest is sort of complicated and easy all at once. Mage Kiersten, Vivian, and Zania are all good resources.”

  “If I know the least about this, why am I running the strike team?” I asked him, dumbfounded.

  “Because,” Rasmussen said with a grin, “you’ve survived Vassago more than anyone else alive, and you’ve got more combat experience than many here. I know asking you to lead this while exploring your unthrottled powers is going to be a lot, but nevertheless, I think it’s necessary, especially with that lead you turned up. You didn’t say how?”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I told him. “But I can email you a picture of the page with the athame.” I almost cringed when I said that, realizing nobody had asked me where it—

  “And I trust it’s being safely stored at the moment?”

  “It’s safe as safe can be,” I told him. “Not that I distrust all of the council, but until…” I cut my eyes over to Zania and raised my eyebrows, a nonverbal question and got a nod in response, “… but until we can discover who the mole is, I’d rather play some cards close to my chest.”

  “Mole?” Zania asked.

  “In the council, perhaps even the senior council,” Rasmussen answered.

  Zania gulped and then nodded. “That’s why there are some things you and Wright aren’t telling me?” she asked.

  “It’s not that I distrust you—”

  “He doesn’t trust anybody, and I’ve slept with him,” Cindy interrupted.

  “O M G,” Zania said, her eyes going wide. “TMI, TMI, man… not cool!”

  I started laughing, and Cindy gave my thigh a little squeeze, making me almost jump in surprise, my knee hitting the bottom of the table. The pain cut off my laughter as soon as it started.

  “Well then, let’s assemble your team. Vivian’s gate room is now yours to use.”

  “I er… Could somebody make me a gate stone for it?” I asked him. “Usually I have to pay an elemental mage to make the ones I have, or I recover them from fallen… er…”

  “Yes, and I will see what we have already here and available as well. Your charm necklace is really quite remarkable. I see some new additions. I’ll have them ready for your return, until then, Mage Kiersten’s other specialty other than fire magic, is gates.”

  “It’s… oh wow,” I said, realizing how useful that could be.

  Most elemental mages could gate, but few specialized in it. It wasn’t needed if you were familiar with the area you were going to or standing at a point where you wanted to gate in. If she was really good and really powerful, she could gate us places she’d never seen or traveled to.

  “Indeed,” Rasmussen said before leaving the room leaving the rest of us sitting there for a moment before we followed.

  13

  The gate shimmered as we walked out, and I turned to see it collapse completely as Mage Kiersten was the last to walk out of it. We’d gated to the edge of Danvers, Massachusetts, on an old road with a couple houses nearby in the distance.

  “I’m never going to get used to that,” Dana said.

  “I know, I’ve only done it a few times myself,” JJ told her.

  Zania looked around then at me. I shrugged.

  “I think I might stick out a little bit,” she said finally.

  She was dressed in knee-high plaid socks, and a black dress, with silver jewelry. Her hair was a glorious mess of spikes. Mage Kiersten had changed into street clothes before she’d come, so she sort of looked like a middle-aged soccer mom. Of all of us, I thought I was the one who stuck out the most. I wore a suit, with a loose-fitting suit jacket. Over that, I had a brown leather backpack. I’d stuffed my Calico and a spare cylinder full of rune ammo inside it. Under the suit, I had both M&Ps, the deathless athame as I’d started mentally calling it, and my Gerber as usual. If that didn’t make me stick out, my pentacle on my charm necklace definitely looked out of the norm.

  “I don’t know, we’re only twelve miles away from Salem,” I told her.

  “The place that had the witch trials?” Dana interrupted.

  “Yes,” I told her, “and I’ve got the address for the auction house. Let’s go for a walk and see if we can ask the agent inside who registered.”

  “Let’s go! Mush!” Rose chirped from my shoulder.

  I found the Wandering Emporium & Auction House after an hour of walking, and with Vivian’s help. She’d been quiet and subdued the entire time, almost as if she was waiting for somebody to snap at her. She’d been the one to finally stop and ask somebody for directions, and before we knew it, we were all standing in front of a gray building. The siding was clad in T-111 wooden siding, and the roof was unpainted corrugated steel roofing. The grass was mowed, but it was evident it was only done when the grass got too tall.

  Brown clumps of dead grass were in the near knee-high grass, and the parking lot had potholes deep enough that my Jeep would have serious issues climbing in and out of them. Kiersten whistled, and JJ snickered.

  “This is a high-class place,” Rose said.

  “Rose, recon. Vivian, you’ve got the official ID, you’re with me; the rest of you, keep an eye out and I’ll be back out in a little bit.”

  “Jinkies, Fred,” Zania exclaimed. “That sounds like a terrific plan!”

  “Why is it every female around here is a smartass?” I asked to nobody in particular.

  “If you’ve played Dungeons and Dragons,” Kiersten said, “you’d realize that all the females in your party are the tanks.”

  I opened my mouth to object, but realized I was far outnumbered and decided to let her win this battle. As I held the door open for Vivian, I caught Zania giving Kiersten a high five. Rolling my eyes, I headed in. I heard a popping sound as the already invisible Rose poofed to another area, leaving us looking at… Row upon row of furniture, household goods, clothing, appliances, tools. There seemed to be a little
bit of order in the chaos, but I realized that the auction house was essentially a large garage sale of sorts.

  “What ken I do ye for?” a man in his late sixties said walking up, looking at Vivian and me.

  “I’m here for a book auction that was ran, say about two weeks ago?”

  “Run lots of auctions. Sell tons of books. What do you want to know?”

  “I’m trying to track down one of the bidders,” I told him.

  “Now why would ya want to do that?” he asked, his New England accent grating on my nerves.

  “I was the one who got the Gaelic book that went for $25,000.”

  “No you ain’t, the old fella in a walker bought it, and he paid $18,000, not $25,000.”

  “He what?” I asked him, before recovering, “I mean, after I paid his finder’s fee and travel expenses, it cost me… never mind. There was a British gentleman who also wanted to buy the book—”

  “So you read it already and now want to sell it to the other fella?”

  “Something like that,” I told him.

  “Good, give me the book, and I’ll contact the buyer. My commission is 20% off the price of the sale. I’ll let you know when you ken pick up the money,” he told me.

  “I wanted to get in touch with him directly,” I told the auctioneer.

  “That’s not how this works. You come to me with the information you want to sell something. I don’t just give something away for free…”

  “Listen, can I buy his name and address from you then?” I asked him.

  “Who are you again?” he asked, looking at my pentacle suddenly.

  “Vivian Sparks, FBI,” Vivian said, flipping her ID open and showing her badge. “This is my investigator, Thomas Wright, occult book specialist. Now, can you help us?”

  The auctioneer looked from me to Vivian and back at me. I shrugged. He turned and began walking. I shot Vivian a look and then heard a popping and a brief flash of color.