by Alana Melos
“I can’t,” I said, my voice tight. “If I stop and relax now, things will fall apart.” I touched my left cheek absently, “The center cannot hold.”
Rory and Alistair exchanged a look. “Everything falls apart,” Alistair said, his words soft, cutting through my anxious haze. “What matters is what you do as it does.”
I took a deep steadying breath and exhaled slowly, remembering his brief story about his homeland, and how he’d lost everything. I think I knew how he felt in that moment, at least a little bit. This was my home. The one I’d made for myself, the one I loved… and yes, loved. The city was the only thing which I thought I really did love, as far as I understood the emotion. It never disappointed me. This dirty, grimy city which still pretended to respectability was my first and only love, and I would defend it to the death.
It was time to change the subject. I couldn’t talk about this anymore, not and keep my cool. “So, Alistair,” I said. “I have some questions, for you. As a mage.”
“What is it, Caprice?” he asked, his voice sympathetic. He hadn’t wanted to come along, but I pointed out he often dealt with both sides, and his presence would lend my argument some respectability.
“I… found out my sword is from Origin,” I said. “The scientist I talked to said it could cut through any, ah, vibrations? Energies or something… you know, cancel out meta powers like energy shields and whatnot.”
He perked a brow. “And?”
“And it doesn’t do the same for magic shields,” I said. “I tried with Richter and got nowhere.”
“You want to know why?” he asked. When I nodded, he sighed. “It’s a long explanation, if you want to hear it. I’ll try to keep it short though.”
I sat down on the edge of the rooftop next to Rory. He reached over and patted my thigh with his too warm hand. “I’ve got nothing but time right now.” Time until this meeting, that was, whenever they decided to show up. You’d think heroes would bother to show up on time for these things.
“I assume you understand the basics of the multiple dimension theorem?” When I nodded, he continued. “Magic exists outside of that.”
“That doesn’t make much sense,” I replied.
“It won’t, but I’ll try to make it easy for you,” he said. “Think of a bowl filled with grapes. Some of them touch, and some of them don’t. Those are the dimensions within the confines of the multiverse. Magic is the air between the grapes. It touches each one--some more than others, like the ones on top--yet isn’t a part of them. It’s its own place.”
“Another dimension?” Rory asked as he rubbed my thigh.
“Yes,” he said, then on the heels of that, “No… I told you it’s hard to explain. It exists simultaneously throughout all, though some dimensions are richer in occult energies than others. It’s both something outside and inside of the worlds.”
“So that’s why my sword doesn’t affect it? Since magic touches Origin it’s like it came from Origin?” I frowned. I guess it made sense, but it just seemed like another world or another source of energy to me, not something which was separate.
“More or less,” he said. “That’s the simplest explanation.”
“What’s the complicated one?”
He sighed heavily. “It’s not bound by science, but powered by belief, by the human spirit,” he said. “Almost every person has a spark of magic in them. If they studied hard enough, they could draw on it. Some may not have a great spark or the talent, and others are overflowing. It varies from person to person. Since people believe in it, it’s real.”
That took a metaphysical left turn I wasn’t ready for. “Uh… like faeries?” I asked, thinking of Tinkerbell.
A ghost of a smile crept across his lips. “Like that, yes,” he said. “Belief in something makes it real. Gods, demons, angels, ghosts… you could say, in a way, magic is the foundation of all legends, all religions, but it comes down to belief and the spark of humanity in each person. The more the flame is fanned, the hotter it gets. Your sword simply can’t pierce a magical shield because the magician believes it can not.”
“That’s so cheating,” I grumbled and waved a hand as Rory chuckled. “If I could just believe myself into a million dollars, I would.”
“People do, all the time,” he said.
“We do it, as wolves,” Rory interjected, forestalling a response from me. He squeezed my leg, but didn’t let go. “When we change, for the first time, it’s because we’re surrounded by pack. We’ve done the ritual and been skinned to show our true self. The pack brings it out, but only if you’ve got a strong spirit. The weak die. The strong are reborn.”
Alistair nodded in agreement, but I scoffed. He grinned at my skepticism. “I’m not saying it’s the energy behind everything, but it surrounds us and binds all the dimensions as one.”
“Like the Force?” I asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my tone.
“Force?” he blinked. “I don’t know--”
“Forget it,” I answered, waving the question away. “You said most people, but not all.” When he nodded, I pressed. “What about those who don’t have that spark?”
“They were created without a soul,” he said.
“I thought you said everyone has a soul,” I replied, thinking I’d caught him in a lie.
“Yes, and no,” he said. When I threw up my hands, he smiled again and held up his own to forestall a complaint from me. “You know that I don’t care for scientists, correct? It’s because of them. There’s an age old rivalry between scientists and mages on nearly every world which has advanced far enough to reach the nuclear age… and beyond.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“When they released the atom’s power, they did so by sucking the magic out of it,” he replied. “They made up their own rules and suchlike, but it’s only the limitations they placed upon themselves which saves us all. And then in the biological sciences….” He trailed off, frowning to himself. I waited, expecting him to continue. When a half a minute passed and he didn’t, I spoke up.
“Biological,” I prompted.
“Clones,” he said, blinking to clear his thoughts and looking to me. “A soul is made when two people come together. The sexual act creates it. The soul nourishes itself from the mother and when it’s ready, the child is born. The soul is the spark of magic in each of us… but clones. Clones have no souls. It’s a great abomination to many of those who are studied in the magical arts.”
“I see,” I replied, thinking it over. It made sense as much as any of that mystic nonsense did. I leaned on Rory, and he shifted his hand so he could put his arm around me. He’d always been a little handsy, but I liked it for right now. It helped to ease some of the tension coursing through me at the thought of this meeting coming up. “So they can’t use magic?”
“Not under any circumstance,” he said. “The soul acts as a bridge, either through study or faith, to pull energy to the magician to power his spells.”
“What about that thing you summoned?” I asked. “That came from the magic di… magic reservoir?”
He shuddered lightly, still sensitive to the subject. “No.”
“Where did it come from then?” I asked.
“Think of our bowl of grapes,” he replied, looking away. “Those… those came from outside the bowl.”
“But you said everything was inside the bowl,” I pointed out.
“Exactly.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, huffing the words. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Pray it never will.”
I glanced up to Rory, who shrugged indifferently. He hadn’t seen what I had, else he wouldn’t simply be shrugging it off. “Last question,” I said to veer Alistair’s thoughts away from those things which had tried to come through to our reality. “If magic is powered by souls, and souls are made of magic… which came first?”
“Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” he asked as he looked back tome, smiling a lit
tle, though his eyes still had that faraway look I didn’t like.
“A paradox,” I replied. “You’re saying it’s a paradox.”
“Exactly,” he said. “You can’t have one without the other. Personally, I’m of the belief they came into being at the same time, that once the first soul was made, magic existed. Or once magic existed, it made the first soul. Either way, it doesn’t matter a whole lot.”
I was about to ask another question when my phone rang. I sat up straight and answered it as Rory lowered his arm. “Go,” I said, knowing it was Septimus from the caller ID.
“We’re here,” he said, sounding unhappy.
“But…?” I asked, the tone of my voice sharpening. That caused Rory to straighten up as well, looking at me with a concerned look. Alistair, who wasn’t wanted by anyone, appeared indifferent. I think he’d be upset if I were imprisoned though. I hoped so.
“You’re not going to like this,” he said.
“Just spill it, Timmy,” I snarled. Just the tone of his voice was grating on my already thin nerves. I schooled myself to patience, but in the couple of days without my ‘pathy, I’d noticed it was getting harder and harder to keep my impulses under control. If I was truly unhurt like Alistair said, what would it take for me to get back to my old self? Or, without my ‘pathy for defense, what other influences was I under?
“The only way I could get a meeting was between you and Imperius alone, without weapons,” he said. “In a power null zone.”
I blinked, then laughed. He thought I’d be upset at that! I kept chuckling, as that was much better than I’d dreamed. Without his strength and invulnerability, I’d wipe the floor with him with my aikido and mish-mash of dirty fighting skills. Of course, it was a while since I’d been in a fight with no weapons, and it wasn’t my strong suit either. But confidence flowed through me as I knew from experience super strong folks who weren’t used to get hurt crumpled easily when they were powerless.
“That’s fine,” I said while I tried to smother the laughter. “I’m not upset, at all.”
“Then we’re at the office,” he said. “The reception area. Fourth floor.”
“We’ll be there shortly,” I replied and hung up.
I floated the three of us down to the street and we walked across the road to the building. I’m sure they had known we were there, though Alistair promised us a cloaking spell to hide us from casual scans. This was in a part of Manhattan not yet taken over by Pangea, though it crept ever closer. The twilight hours beckoned us. We’d stopped to get a big meal at a pasta place before the meet and after we’d left Jeneva’s office. Alistair had spelled the piece of paper with the formula on it so only I could read it. It was pretty damn handy having a mage around willing to do these sorts of things, even if he was shy about letting loose with his big guns. I’d asked him how much, and he looked offended. “It’s my city too,” he’d said. So it was.
When we got out of the elevator, it opened up into a deserted office floor like any you’d see in a movie, complete with a receptionist area, and rows and rows of depressing cubicles lining the bland office floor. Towards the back of the area and to the left were the offices to whatever executives ran this joint.
Imperius stood there, and he wasn’t alone. I recognized both of his companions right away in the fluorescent light. The first was Septimus, of course, who looked paler than when I’d left him. I didn’t think he was happy about being put in the middle, yet he still had that weird hopeful quality to him, as if he thought that just maybe I was giving myself up. His other companion was Bluecoat, whose head brushed the ceiling, and she was bending at the knees just a bit in order to fit. Her long bright blue hair was back in a severe ponytail, and she dressed in the ICPD metahuman uniform, this time sans the armor. I fingered my sword in its sheath, remembering well the last time we’d clashed. My sword was able to cut her. It had been a shock for both of us to find that out as she was supposed to be super strong and invulnerable. Her pretty face was set in a grimace, though I couldn’t see her eyes behind the designer shades she wore.
In between them stood Imperius. He wasn’t as tall as I’d expected, especially standing next to Bluecoat who was over eight feet. He was about my dad’s height at six and a half feet, and almost as broad. Instead of wearing his hero uniform of purple, black, and gold, he wore a white suit with a purple shirt, and a black tie. A tie tack in gold had been done up in the laurel crown he used for his symbol. His dark skin looked like teak stained with faint green under these lights, but I knew from television and pictures, it was normally a pleasant shade of brownish-red which looked rich, soft, and supple to the touch. The super hero kept his dark purple hair cut short on top, shaved on the sides and even though he wore sunglasses, I saw the glow of his purple eyes behind them. There was no hiding what he was, who he was. He crackled with power, and his presence filled the room.
As anxious as I was a moment ago, as soon as I stepped into the room, I fell into my normal confident stride with ease. I wore my mask to hide my identity, as I always would around heroes… save for Tim, I guessed. He didn’t count. This was business anyway, and it deserved to be treated like business. Having practiced for this confrontation many times over in my head, I walked to greet them, flanked on one side by a werewolf, and the other by a powerful mage. Of course, they didn’t look powerful. Rory looked too friendly, eager even, and he eyed Bluecoat openly, as if appraising her for his bed. Alistair looked too tired to be impressive, his suit rumpled with the day’s activity. It wasn’t the best entourage, but I knew neither of them would let anything happen to me. Other than Nos, they were the best bodyguards I could have asked for.
“Imperius,” I said, inclining my head ever so slightly.
“Capricious Whim,” he said, his voice a pleasant tenor. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
He seemed to indicate Bluecoat, who fixed me with a hard stare, her mouth set in a grim frown. “I’m sure you have,” I said. “Let’s get down to business. I want somewhere private, just you and me.” I made a show of handing my blade over to Rory and then spread my hands out. I still had a knife on me, but I was trusting they weren’t going to pat me down.
How wrong I was. Bluecoat stepped forward, taking the invitation to do so. She found the knife in short order and tsked at me as her large hands manhandled me roughly. I didn’t think she could help it. She was strong enough to lift a tank without breaking a sweat, after all, so a little pushing around while frisking was to be expected. I smirked as she tested the knife against the heel of her thumb, checking to see if it would puncture her invulnerability, which it didn’t.
“Nervous about something?” I asked, my voice sweet as I smiled.
Her face tightened and she tossed the knife on the receptionist’s desk. “She’s clean, now,” Bluecoat said.
“Are you really that worried about little old me in a place without powers?” I asked, keeping my voice light.
“No,” Imperius said with no tone or inflection at all. “This way.”
I looked at my companions, then followed along behind. It wasn’t far. He opened a door to a plain looking office. It must have been an executive’s since it didn’t just have the desk and the big chair, but also a coffee table with a couch. On the coffee table sat a big, fat, rectangular device which didn’t appear to be emanating any power. No one else was inside, so I entered. He followed behind and closed the door, then went over to the device. After a moment of calibration, he flipped a switch.
“We can both talk freely and without fear of one of us hurting the other,” he said, then sat down on the couch, unbuttoning his jacket as he did. The glow from behind his shades had disappeared, and he took them off to reveal a pair of rather nice looking brown eyes, deep set and filled with worry.
I reached out with my teke. Rather, I tried to. Sure enough, nothing happened when I attempted to move a chair to me. “I’ll try to make this brief,” I said as I hauled over the chair manually to sit across from him. “I
have the solution to Pangea,” I said.
“‘Pangea’?” he asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. All of his considerable attention remained riveted on me. I had to admit, a thread of nervousness floated through me. This was like meeting a celebrity, after all. Sure, I’d rather be ramming my sword through his gut, but even a simple talk was bound to be a little nerve wracking.
“That’s the name of the project which spawned the plant,” I explained. “It’s a long story, but I said I was going to be brief.”
“What’s the solution then?” he asked, voice still neutral. If he felt anything about sitting here with me, he didn’t show it.
“I have the formula to a chemical solution which disrupts the electro-psychic impulses of Pangea’s appendages, effectively paralyzing it for a short time,” I said, watching his face for a reaction. This was a lot harder being mindblind than I thought it’d be. People tended to have reactions around me, either positive or negative. Big, broad emotions writ all over their face that I, even not being so great with reading facial expressions, could easily interpret.
The only reaction I got from him was a slight shuffle in his sitting stance, presumably to get more comfortable. His face was the same neutral expression he had since I’d met him. “That would be useful indeed,” he asked. “Why do you think we want it?”
At that, I was a little flabbergasted. Since I wore my mask, I didn’t bother hiding much of my expression. I did manage to keep my voice even. “Why wouldn’t you? You want to save the city, and all the people in it.”
“Since it’s a chemical, I think we might be able to manage to synthesize it on our own,” Imperius said, his voice calm and cool. “If not, we know where to look to take it.”
“That’s not your style,” I said, though my heart beat sped up a tad. What if this was just a trap? I focused on Imperius’ eyes, trying to shove any and all emotion away from me to stay calm, cool, and collected. “You face your opponents head on. And you won’t be able to synthesize the chemical readily or easily. There’s… processes which it has to go through. I’m not a scientist, so I’m not entirely clear, but there’s multiple steps. And here’s another thing: with repeated uses, it grows less effective as Pangea mutates and changes, adapting. It will only work with any real effectiveness two, three times, tops. Since every part of Pangea is connected on a genetic level, it’ll adapt before you can put it to good use.”
