Hired Luck

by Mel Todd

  I looked at him, completely off balance. "What are you talking about?" My voice quavered even more, and I found myself pressed against the wall, as far as possible from all of them.

  "Oh, quit lying. We don't have time. If those rips form, the death toll could be in the thousands." He had stood up and was stalking over to me. "So get your ass in that damn chair, get marked, and I'm drafting you now."

  "Steven." It was the puffy hair woman, but the name Steven still made me flinch. "She has no idea what you're talking about and she doesn't remember emerging. She isn't lying."

  The man turned, looking for a minute like he would hit me. His glare remained so fierce I couldn't help but press back further into the wall, wanting it to hide me.

  "Fran, you can't be serious. She had to know. With her rank, her emergence should have made waves. Hell, why didn't we know? It should have been sensed by other merlins in her sphere." He stalked back and forth, and my gaze kept going from him to the puffy blond, to the older man.

  "What are you talking about? What don't I know?" I forced the words past vocal cords that were frozen, either with fear or nerves, I didn't know which.

  He smiled at me, and nothing about it was friendly. "Welcome to the draft. You're a merlin."

  I swear my knees went weak for a moment and I staggered a bit. "Are you insane? I can't be a merlin. I never emerged. Merlins are incredibly powerful, I'm just weird."

  He turned and looked at Fran again, and she nodded at him. With a snarl he whirled back to face me. "Did you have anything to do with the ritual murders in the park today? Do you know anything about them?"

  "No!" I all but shouted the word, frustration and fear eroding the shock that had put me in a state of numbness. "How many times do I have to tell you people I just found her? I always find weird things, or they find me. But I had, have, nothing to do with any of them."

  The older merlin who had been looking at me with his head tilted spoke up. "You know, I think that’s why she’s driving you crazy, Steven. She’s wrapped both a Murphy's Curse and a Lady Luck around herself. If anyone else had cast it, it would have worn off by now. But she renews it constantly without realizing."

  "What?" I don't know if I said it, or if everyone else did at the same time. But I followed up with more questions. "What do you mean I keep those two things around me? What are they? How can you tell?"

  The merlin shrugged. "This is all stuff you'd learn in the merlin courses your senior year, but long story short, almost all merlins can sense magic. Some to a greater or lesser degree. You reek of it but until I watched you for a while, I didn't realize it was you and not just your cloak of curses and luck. I can't imagine how exhausting it must be for you to keep that up. But either way, I'd stop it."

  "Stop what? How?" I didn't know if I should panic, or just run away from these insane people. There was no way I was a merlin. "How can I be a merlin? I never emerged. That isn't possible."

  "Well you are, and you're now working for me,” said Alixant. “This makes you the second Spirit merlin in the US since James Wells died." He broke off talking to me. Then, not moving his eyes from me, Alixant tilted his head to one side, as if looking at me from a different perspective. "Fran, is it possible? Is she the one?"

  Fran frowned and flipped through the pile of papers in front of her. I just knew it was my file, that it was everything they had on me. "Corisande Munroe. Born April 15th. Twin brother died April 12th." She paused and arched a brow. "Huh, you know there was that paper on merlins that came out about a year or two ago."

  The agent released me from his gaze and looked back at her. "Which one?"

  "Puberty onset emergence. If she emerged because of the stress of her brother's death, it might mean she's been a merlin for the last decade and she's the one James felt emerge. Which means she probably doesn't realize it." She smirked at him. "After all, everyone knows you don't emerge until after puberty."

  "Merlin's balls, I hate common knowledge. The more common it is, the less likely it is to be accurate." Alixant sighed and sank down in the empty chair, looking like a weight had just collapsed on him. "So she doesn't know how to use her abilities, is a walking time bomb, and had nothing to do with any of the deaths or the ritual trying to be created?"

  "No." Fran sounded almost disappointed as she spoke. "And at this point she needs to get training. She will have a hell of a lot of habits to unlearn. Huh. I guess the teachers will have fun teaching her how to use her abilities correctly. You know she's probably the first natural taught mage we've had in a century?"

  "If you are all quite done talking about me like I'm not here." I probably shouldn't have been so snappish, but they were telling me all this stuff and it made no sense. How could I have emerged when Steven died?

  "Come on. Sit down," Fran said, pointing at the tattoo chair.

  I couldn't help but look at it like it was a device of torture. A soft snicker ran through the room.

  "Yes, the tattoo is a shackle, but you don't have a choice. Don't worry, you get some say in the design, but sit and we'll talk about it a bit. I get the feeling this isn't a good thing for you?" Her voice almost tender.

  Crying won't help anything.

  I told myself that over and over as I perched in the chair. I got the feeling my avoidance of the chair amused everyone, but they didn't laugh at me, at least not where I could hear. I caught a sympathetic look from the person who'd give me that tattoo. It helped, a little.

  "My name is Francine Calamadar. I'm a Psychic archmage. I do truth spells like most people breathe." She moved her hair, exposing the entirety of her tattoo, a blue and pink mix that fit her. "Drives people crazy as you can never tell me anything approaching a white lie. Or you can and I'll just know it's a lie."

  I stared at her, not sure where all this was going.

  "This is Steven Alixant. He's the primary for the FBI Magic Enforcement division. As you know, he's a Pattern merlin but he's also the highest mage in public service right now. They can't promote him because that is the backup to an elected position."

  I caught the subtext: I wasn't stupid. He was basically a director in the FBI, and if they promoted him, he would be in line for higher-ranked government positions where mages couldn't be. But what she was really telling me was he was powerful. Not just magic, but power and position. In other words, don't piss him off.

  I didn't know how much I cared. He was an ass and I had no desire to work for him. I kept my mouth shut, mostly because I still thought this was a huge hoax but I couldn't work out what they wanted. Why in the world would anyone be trying to convince me I was a merlin? Because I liked some objects and their wind machine was broken?

  My hand hurt and I looked down to realize I was gripping the chair arms so tightly that my nails were bending backwards. With a force of effort, I relaxed them and set them in my lap, trying to pay attention to what she was saying as the tattoo artist shifted further back.

  ".. Dr. Lawrence Rendol. He's an Air Merlin with one of the best magic senses around. Most OMO rating centers have someone with strong magic sense to help with the diagnosis."

  "What diagnosis? Nothing happened. So I stood in your broken machine and nothing happened. There were pretty objects I liked." I forced myself to hold out the amulet and Dr. Rendol sighed.

  "I keep telling people we need to make the test have more bells and whistles. It just seems so boring and bland that people don't believe unless they want to believe. Really, why can't we have something more obvious?"

  It sounded like an old, well-worn argument, so I watched Fran and Alixant, both wary and curious. At some point Rachel had slipped back out.

  "Lawrence, now isn't the time," Fran admonished gently and the older man heaved a sigh, turning his attention back to me.

  "You didn't feel anything because the machine focuses waves of power starting at a hedgemage power level and going up to the max of the machine, which we thought was a merlin. Archmages will feel a bit of pressure near the end, and some m
erlins will feel their hair move, but that’s it. You felt nothing. Your magical field and your own power is so high, most merlins won't match you."

  "Great, so she has insanely high powers and is untrained. I'm still using her. This idiot can't keep killing people," Alixant groused looking for all the world like a child denied a treat.

  "So, I have power because I didn't feel anything? That makes no sense." I folded my arms, glaring at them. "If I was a mage, wouldn't I have been doing something?"

  "I suspect you have a constant drain between Murphy and Luck, the energy to keep both up constantly must be massive." Dr. Rendol titled his head looking at me, squinting as if looking into a bright light. "I'd say you need to shut them off ASAP, especially before you start classes."

  I wanted to scream. What drugs were they on? Why would I have a whatever these were on me? I didn't enjoy finding bodies, not to mention how it had driven my life and my choices.

  "You're all crazy. You're trying to prove I'm magic because nothing happens. That makes no sense." I fought tooth and nail for only being a hedge, or heck even a magician, or whatever. I could have just gone on with my life. But a merlin? How much I would lose made my stomach churn.

  The three mages all exchanged looks. "I don't believe I've ever encountered this before. I should make a note of it. Is there a way to cancel her shrouds and show her?" Fran said all this with the air of a woman making mental notes in her head.

  "I don't give a familiar’s ass if she believes or not. She’s a merlin and I need her,” Alixant snarled, exploding to his feet with such force his chair fell backwards. “If I don't get her now, this damned mage might succeed in ripping open the walls between the planes and then we're going to have a major problem on our hands."

  The flinch was automatic. I wasn't scared, but fighting wasn't in my nature. Pestering, probing, looking for answers, yes. But violence? Not so much. I'd seen too many bodies from violence to be comfortable with or around it, but he did nothing more than pace back and forth. I imagined I could almost see anger and frustration radiating out of him in waves.

  "Stop being a prima donna," Rendol snapped and Alixant flushed and sat back down. "As for you, young lady. I'm more practiced than you, and I can stop the relativity twists you have going around your body. Then…" he paused thinking, then brightened. "Fran, do we still have the redrum ball in back?"

  "Really? Huh. You know that might work. I never use it in diagnosis anymore. I got tired of the reactions. Yes, I'll go get it." She spoke as if having another conversation and I was missing part of it. But whatever it was, it didn't sound good.

  I watched all three of them, feeling like a squirrel trying to dart across a busy road. The only difference was I knew I was going to get hit by a car. The question was which one would hit me first.

  The doctor rose and moved over to me and I pulled back, which had the side effect of pulling me further into the chair and did nothing for my nerves. I caught the young woman with the tattoo gun watching all of this with wide eyes. I couldn't blame her. Watching a merlin, two high ranking mages, and a supposed merlin argue about if the merlin was a real merlin had to be something she'd never seen before.

  Heck, I didn't believe it and I was in the middle of it. Everything in me rebelled at that idea. Even if Stevie's death caused it, wouldn't someone have noticed before?

  "This shouldn't hurt—if anything you should feel more energetic," he commented, his eyes distant. I froze, torn between running and hiding, but he didn't do anything. I'd been expecting his hand to reach out, to grab me, or for sparks to fly off his hands, something. "There. That should do it." His eyes snapped back into focus, and he smiled at me.

  "What did you do?" I frantically groped around myself with my senses trying to feel or see if there was a difference. Not that I had a clue, but I still seemed to be me. I was still freaked out, worried, saw my life disintegrating, and…

  I stopped and blinked, feeling almost dizzy. I felt light-headed and over-caffeinated like I'd been drinking Stinky's Mexican coffee nonstop. I shook my head, trying to chase the feeling away. Instead, I almost fell off the chair.

  "What did you do to me?" I couldn't explain how odd I felt. Not drugged—that I linked with my wisdom teeth and the fun drugs they put me on then. Not drunk, not that I'd been drunk before. But still, I just felt light, unbearably light.

  He leaned back against the chair, watching me. "I broke all the strands of probability and relativity that were chained to you. Those strands are normally fragile and fade fast but yours had been reinforced, over and over through years I suspect, and it took me a minute to snap them. I've removed curses and lucks before, but this was different. I would say your body is reacting to the excess energy and the lack of stress from no longer keeping up two major spells, which it has for years. Figure a mix of super high blood sugar and being drunk and over-exhausted all at once."

  I didn't know if I believed him, but I felt like I could sprint up stairs, wrestle bears, and even cook. Before I could ask anything else, Fran came back in holding a ball. Well, that wasn't exactly accurate. She held a coffee mug that had what looked like a billiard ball, the eight, sitting in it.

  "Here you go." She shuddered as she handed it to him, stepping back as soon as he took it. "I understand why we keep it but that doesn't mean I like having to be anywhere near it."

  He held the cup not as gingerly as she did, though he still treated it with respect. "One of your many abilities that I am perfectly fine not having." He took a deep breath and turned back to me. "Cori, I'd like you to get comfortable and then I'm going to put this ball in your hand. Once you have a good grip on it, I want you to reach towards it mentally. You'll feel a tug deep in you, asking a question, asking for an offering, but you've plenty to spare now that the cloaks are gone. Besides, this offering is often tiny compared to what is provided."

  He probably meant his smile to be encouraging, but it gave me the willies. Still, I scooted backwards until I was mostly comfortable and then held out my hand.

  With a rewarding smile, he dumped the ball into my hand. I had been right; it was an eight ball from any pool table I'd ever seen. They all leaned forward, watching me with intent eyes, which made it worse. I closed my eyes for a minute, searching myself. I still felt odd - light, unburdened. I put the amulet in my pocket, the symbol of spirit called to me and since they said I could keep it, I would. But for now, I needed my hands free.

  This makes no sense, but whatever.

  Still unsure of what I was doing, I reached, using that weird tingle I sometimes got before something weird happened, and poked at the ball.

  Images exploded in my mind, and I started screaming.

  Chapter 15

  OMO testing and power levels are still highly secretive. The OMO refuses to admit how their machines work, and the few that have been taken and reverse engineered haven't provided any answers. The way to measure abilities remains as shrouded in mystery as magic itself. ~ Magic Explained

  I could feel wet blood splattering my hand, the ball, and my face. I was the person holding the ball. I was the ball. I could hear the scream shut off so abruptly, with the continuing thunk, thunk, thunk of the ball slamming into bloody flesh. The joy of the man holding it. I knew it was a man, hard, heated, thrilling in the death he caused with his own hands. Then another one memory, the ball impacting multiple places, then the sudden squish of a skull giving way and me sinking into the squishy matter of the brain. I could feel it coating me as I hit again and again. The feeling changed to cold and empty: then the thuds, the need to slam into something, the need to feel someone die.

  The images shut off and the creepy feelings of someone else, of me in an object that had no feelings faded away. A sound filled the air as I became aware of reality around me. It took me a moment to realize the sound was me screaming. I managed to stop but my throat felt raw and scoured, like I'd been swallowing coffee grounds. More and more things registered. I was sweating and shaking, so wired that I cou
ld barely breathe. Everyone in the room was pale and staring at me, a couple with looks of horror - the tattoo artist and Dr. Rendol. But Alixant and Fran stared at me with astonished and almost fearful looks on their faces.

  "What the hell was that? What just happened?" My voice sounded raw and torn, and it hurt to speak. Fran picked up her phone, texting on it, while the doctor took that horror object disguised as a ball away and put it back into the cup.

  "I think I owe you an apology, Miss Munroe," Lawrence said. His body was stiff and he had a weird note in his voice I couldn't translate. "Most people, even merlins, get a few creepy sensations, a feeling of blood and thrill. But in all my years, I've never seen anyone react like that. I assume that is not what happened?"

  "A creepy sensation? A feeling of blood?" My voice broke on those words as my stress spiked and I felt my body heating. I wanted to rage and scream and try to express the depths of horror I just experienced, but instead I started coughing. The pain in my throat made me unable to talk.

  "Here," Rachel was suddenly at my side with a bottle of water. I took it gratefully, the coldness evident as I held it. I cracked open the seal and poured heaven down my throat. The icy cold wave soothed my throat, but it still took me a minute to get to the point I could talk.

  "It felt like I was there. I felt the blood, heard the screams, experienced the joy of the man as he killed people with that thing. I went through the deaths of at least five people, but from his joy I know that wasn't all of the people he killed. How many did he kill? How long was I in there?"

  The doctor and Fran blanched, while Alixant just looked more intrigued. That reaction worried me more than anything else.

  Lawrence cleared his throat. "He was convicted of the deaths of three people. All using that ball. Are you saying there were more?"

  My laugh had no humor and I cut it short as my vocal cords spasmed again. I finished the bottle of water, already needing more. Rachel handed me another one, that same icy cold enveloping my hand.