🚀 go-pugleaf

[Continued From Part One]

     Normally Jack loved to sit and watch his father talk to chemicals,
gently coaxing them into strange reactions and producing fizzing, bright or
even mildly explosive results. The boy knew that this was somehow related
to his father's livelihood as a very prestigious chemist who held numerous
patents and commendations, but Jack found it hard to reconcile something
that looked like such fun to work. Today, however, Jack had been gently
asked by his father if he minded not watching. There was a surprise
brewing, and he did not want to ruin it for the boy, or so the story went.
Jack had agreed and wandered outside, mind filled with speculation as to
what his father was mixing together. He had painted fantastic mental images
of turning lead into gold, turning gold into lead and wonder of wonders,
producing powders that would keep the rare pop given as a treat fizzy, even
hours after it had been opened. Jack was so occupied with his thinking that
he failed to notice a figure moving towards him from behind.
     "Hello again, Jack," said a voice that was now becoming familiar to
the boy. Jack turned around to face the man who had managed to become a
strange part of his life over the past several days. "Playing hard,
building up a healthy constitution? Good, good.. always the best way."
     "Hello," replied Jack, looking at the man, unafraid. "I still don't
really trust you."
     The man threw back his head and laughed at that. A startled squirrel
skittered through the snow, away from the haunting sound that promised only
ending. "Jack, you have yet to disappoint me and you have yet to fail to
surprise me."
     For some reason Jack felt an odd surge of pride at not having
disappointed this strange man. He looked up at a hard face that was
partially hidden in the shadows of a furred hood and saw only shadows
beyond.
     "Still, trusted or not I want to give you a gift, Jack. A small
nothing really, which you can take or leave as you choose."
     Jack bit his lip as he considered his options. Being frank with
himself, he did not know this killer who stood before him and the present
could be anything - even something dangerous. Then again, there was an air
of mystique to whatever this person might possess. The unknown and the
unknowable tickled at the boy's mind, begging and pleading for his
attention and Jack began to realise that he wanted more than anything to
find out what the man had for him.
     "I'll... look at it," said Jack, trying desperately to cling to some
element of mistrust. The man nodded once, smiling a secretive smile as he
reached into his coat. He removed and proffered a delicate fragile crystal
which glittered fiercely like the snow which surrounded them, entrancing
Jack with its dazzling brilliance. The boy did not even notice his hand
move to take the crystal, hold it up to his eyes and turn it around in his
hands, feeling the brittle hardness of the thing as he did. All thoughts of
his father's surprise fled from his mind as he gazed into the multifaceted
crystal.
     "That's all that I wanted you to have," said the man, smiling
ever-so-faintly. "Keep it with you as much as you can, but you must
remember just one thing."
     "What's that?" asked Jack, blinking up from the crystal to the man's
snow-swept face.
     "Never, ever show it to anyone else," he said. "That's a snow crystal
and it exists only by the shine of your eyes. If anyone but we two looks
upon it, it will melt away into nothing. Do you want that to happen, Jack?
Do you want it to disappear forever?"
     Jack looked back at the beautiful prize, so very seductive and
tempting as it sparkled with a hard light. Slowly he shook his head no.
     "I'm glad that you feel that way, Jack," said the man, with a nod. "I
would hate for you to lose something so beautiful without a fair trade. All
things are a trade in the end... might for power, war for change, death for
life. So hide it away and let no one see it, ever."
     The man turned and wandering into the shifting snowstorm, vanishing
into the white haze. The cold wind screamed past, but the gem was colder.
***
     A man in a stylised red and blue jogging suit with mortar and pestal
insignia on its chest stood in the middle of his backyard, shivering and
watching his wife. Said wife, dressed in a body-hugging white jumpsuit with
silver-studded brown cloak, walked a complex pattern in the snow,
scattering rose petals that she had tearfully plucked from her indoor
plants.
     "Don't you feel just a little silly, S--Mystica?" asked the man,
hugging himself for warmth while periodically blowing on his chilled hands.
      "What do you mean?" asked Mystica, completing the snow-sigil and
looking up from her etching of petals, which flapped slightly in the light
breeze.
     "Standing around in our own backyard, in the middle of nowhere, in
costume, that's what I mean."
     "We've been in costume in stranger places," replied Mystica, gathering
to herself the strength needed for the next step of the ritual. "Remember
the Funhouse?"
     "Could I forget the place where we decided to stop beating around the
bush?"
     "If you did, we'd have to have words," replied Mystica with a wink.
"Besides, we're in costume for another reason too."
     "What's that?" asked All Chemist.
     "The legend, the strength and the camaraderie that we shared," replied
Mystica, calling to mind an ancient chant. "Those things give me courage
and will, which in turn drive my powers to new heights. You're helping me
by just standing there, reminding me of the times when we were household
names."
      "Just doing my part," replied All Chemist with a grin. "Yell if you
need anything else done."
     "I'll yell, scream, holler and even bite," replied Mystica. "Now hush,
A.C. This part's delicate."
     All Chemist nodded and stood back, a small smile of amusement on his
face as Mystica stood stock still with concentration. The smile slowly
turned into a look of awe and respect as the Incanter of Life threw back
her head and began to pronounce slippery, silvered words that hung in the
chill air for a moment before slowly fading away. Back and forth swayed
Mystica, arms extended in supplication to the sky as she begged the cold
winter's day to reveal to her that which she sought. The winds whipped
around the mage, but not the frigid gusts of winter air that crossed the
wintry landscape. Instead, the warmth of a summer breeze spiralled lazily
about the woman, caressing the snow before gently melting it away. Rose
petals fluttered in the draught before rising up to join with it, arcing
and spinning in crazed orbits around Mystica who stood at the centre of all
of this, eyes closed and arms spread as though to touch the sky.
     For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath as the scene froze
into a tableau. Then like a breath being exhaled, the moment passed as the
petals drifted down and came to rest. Mystica, surrounded by a ring of
green grass which butted against bone-white snow, slowly lowered her arms
and opened her eyes. All Chemist let out a slow breath and stepped to her,
taking her hand in his and feeling the summer warmth that englobed both.
     "Did you see anything?" he asked quietly, feeling his amazement wear
off. Mystica nodded slightly, stepping with him from the ring of grass to
the snow.
     "Yes I did," she replied, in equally hushed tones.
     "What did you see?"
     "Something... someone whom I'd hoped to never see again."
     "Who?"
     Mystica was quiet for a long moment before turning to look into All
Chemist's eyes. "A part of the past that I'll regret for the rest of my
life."
     "Someone from the School?"
     Mystica nodded again. "Yes... Randolph."
     All Chemist sighed. "Your ex."
     "Yes. I sensed his aura... and his spells."
     All Chemist looked at Mystica. "Sharon, are you positive that this is
the guy? Could you be mixing him up with someone else?"
     "Nathaniel," said Mystica quietly, averting her eyes for a moment.
"When he and I were together, we were intimate in ways that only... only
magi could be. No matter what, I know his aura."
     "Hunh," grunted All Chemist.
     "No, please, don't--"
     "It's in the past, right?" asked All Chemist, brushing aside the topic
as quickly as he could. "Never mind about it. What's he want?"
     Mystica studied her husband's face for a moment before realising that
no more would be said on the topic. "I can't tell that yet. The traces of
his magic are too minute, and most likely lingering on objects that he's
cast enchantments into. If he had cast a spell near me, believe me, I would
have known immediately."
     "So let's follow this and figure out where they are."
     "We can't," replied Mystica. "What I'm sensing is background aura from
an earlier usage of magic. To find his baubles we need to search for them
or catch one operating."
     "So we've learned exactly nothing. Great."
     "No," said Mystica, gently. "No. We've learned about a possible threat
to us. We also know that we have to act instead of just guessing that we
do. Because if Randolph is involved in this, then something bad is going to
happen. Something very bad."
     "He was a death worshipper, wasn't he?" asked All Chemist, trying to
remember the faint stories of this man. His thoughts skirted around his
wife's relationship to the mage whom he did not know nor understand.
     "Not a worshipper," corrected Mystica. "Any more than I'm a life
worshipper. He's fascinated with death in all of its permutations... trying
to find beauty in it."
     "Ugh," said All Chemist.
     "No, I can see his point so very clearly. Death is a part of life,
isn't it?"
     All Chemist flushed, caught once more by his lack of understanding of
magical matters. "Well, yeah..."
     "But he began to reject the life that makes death possible. Began to
privilege death and then exalt it. That was... very much how our
relationship went too."
     Why does she have to keep coming back to that, thought All Chemist,
clenching his fist tightly against the pain that it brought. "So you think
he'll try to hurt you?"
     "No," said Mystica, quietly. "He feels that Death should conquer Life,
not destroy it. At least in my case. He wants to break me... bring me to my
knees before him..."
     "Oh."
     "Let's... go inside," said Mystica, shivering slightly. "I'm getting
cold. We'll make some hot chocolate... find Jack... let's go inside."
     The wind moaned as it scattered snow upon the green grass, entombing
it in its white sarcophagus once again. Petals were whisked away by the
wind's icy touch. Soon no trace of life's passage on the desolate landscape
remained.
***
     Nathaniel wandered into the kitchen to prepare some hot chocolate. The
action soothed him slightly and helped him to forget the constant reminders
that Sharon was much older than he and had a past as well. Personally, he
would be utterly content if she never brought up any of her ex-lovers
again. Nathaniel preferred to pretend that the two of them lived in a
blissful eternal now of love. As he scooped chocolate into three mugs, he
reflected on just how much of Sharon's universe he didn't understand, how
much he just cracked wise about because he was only a chemist without a
magical bone in his body. Even his name, a play on 'alchemist', was that
just another way to render a small part of magic's lore more accessible to
himself.
     Another scoop of chocolate in each glass. Each spoonful was measured
and precise, as though Nathaniel was spooning iron filings or activated
charcoal into a beaker. The familiar, simple motions soothed his mind.
     "Oh god!" shouted Sharon from down the hallway. Mind agitated again,
Nathanial's rusty but long-trained reflexes came to the fore as he dropped
the spoon where it was and barrelled towards Jack's room. Shoulder charging
the half-opened door, he rolled into the room under the aim of any guns
hoping to catch an unprotected head or chest, then reached for a vial on
his belt...
     ....idiot, he chided himself, he wasn't wearing his belt. Nor did he
have anything more dangerous than boscoe residue on him. A moment's glance
around the room showed him only Sharon and Jack, so he shot to his feet and
moved to his wife's side.
     Sharon was bent over Jack's prone form where he lay upon his bed,
seemingly fast asleep. She made no comment about his entrance, for hers
would have been even more spectacular had he raised hue and cry after
discovering that an arch-nemesis was nearby.
     "What is it?" asked Nathaniel, looking down at his son. "What's wrong?"
     "It's... Randolph..." said Sharon, in a strangled voice. "He's gotten
to Jack..."
     "What?" asked Nathaniel in disbelief, staring down at the sleeping
child. "I don't see anything."
     "It's visible only to magical sensing," replied the woman, clasping
her right wrist in left hand. Nathaniel recognised this gesture as the one
which she assumed whenever baffled by something troubling. He realised that
he would have to do his worrying silently, to give his wife the best chance
of cracking the mystery that she saw before them. "Look, in his hand. Do
you see?"
     Nathaniel peered forward, sighting a small crystal in the boy's grasp.
He reached forward to gently prize it away, in the hopes that he could get
a better view. Before he could however, his wife grasped his arm and
prevented him from taking the stone.
     "Don't touch it!" she warned, shaking her head. "It's quiescent now,
but contact could do any number of things to him. It's Randoloh's artifact,
Nathan... it's tapping Jack."
     "Tapping him?" asked Nathaniel, shocked. "What do you mean, tapping him?"
     "It's... leaching him," replied Sharon, chewing her lower lip. "of his
magical potential. Randolph obviously has the rock's twin somewhere that
will be resonating on the same frequency... what an idiot I've been!"
     "Why? Sharon, please... tell me what's going on..."
     Sharon turned to look at Nathaniel, tears of rage in her eyes.
"Because crystal magic was one of Randoloh's specialties in the School,
Nathan. And because certain crystals that resonate at _precisely_ the same
frequency can transmit magic to and from each other without leaving a trace
in between! That's why I couldn't pick up what Randolph was doing... I
should've realised that he had a repeater set up somewhere! I had _all_ of
the clues in front of me and I still missed everything!"
     "What can we do?" asked Nathaniel, looking around the room with
practised eye. Sharon shook her head sadly.
     "I don't know," she replied. "I'm not a crystal mage. I can't trace
this back, I can't diagnose what taking the crystal from Jack will do to
him... crystals are such a different form of magical focus than I'm used
to."
     "Sharon, what're the odds that Randolph could use an unprepared
crystal in his spells?"
     Sharon paused to consider that for a moment. "It wouldn't be easy,"
she replied after a good deal of thought. "But possible."
     Nathaniel nodded and walked to Jack's desk. With deft hand he pulled
the crystal from the kit radio that his son had been building and dropped
it to the floor. There was a slight crunch as he stepped on the component,
grinding it into unrecognisable bits.
     "I'll buy him another one when this is all over," he said, looking at
his amazed wife. "Sharon, is there any information that you can gather from
the crystal?"
     The woman nodded. "There's some... not much and nothing that'll be
very useful."
     "Do it, please?" asked Nathaniel, moving towards the door. "We need
every scrap of information that we can get. I'm going to go downstairs and
prepare a few more concoctions. That always gives me time to chew a problem
over. If we can't solve this with magic alone, we're going to do it with
magic and detective work."
     Sharon smiled lightly. "Mystica and All Chemist. Together again."
     Nathaniel nodded. "I'll try to be fast, for Jack's sake. I just need
to get the old grey matter in gear."
     "I'll perform every divination ritual that I can," replied Sharon.
"Please... hurry."
     Nathaniel nodded, taking his wife's hand in his for a moment. "We'll
tuck Jack in safely tomorrow night and this will be all over."
     "Promise?"
     "Promise."
     Mystica smiled weakly as All Chemist turned and walked to the door.
With a sigh of hopelessness, she turned back to her son and stretched her
arms over him, calling to mind her repetoir of spells while the December
wind whipped at the bedroom window, shattering a row of glistening icicles.
The winter sun set early.
***
As usual, this story is trademarked, all rights reserved 1996 to
Frobozz/Chris Angelini (email:cangelin@uoguelph.ca homepage:
http://www.uoguelph.ca/~cangelin). Everything alluded to is intended as
satire, and no trademark infringement is intended or implied. Protest the
new year! Sign your cheques 1996!