Contents

The Book of Levi

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 32

Chapter 33.

Chapter 34.

Chapter 35.

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

The Book of Levi

By

John Conroe

Formerly published on Amazon Kindle Vella as the Demon Accords Beginning

Chapter 1

The door of my bookstore jingled, causing me to look up.  Carl, in his brown uniform, wore a big smile as he approached the counter with two packages balanced on one hand and his electronic tablet in the other.

“Daily drop off Levi,” he said, setting both boxes down in front of me.  He made a notation with a stylus on his device before turning it toward me and handing me the stylus.  “Signatures needed for both.”

Not every single package that came through Treasured Words required a signature, but probably half did.  Something about sending fragile and valuable works of literature across the globe brought on a need for insurance and acceptance signatures.  My store was only a month old, yet I’d seen Carl almost every day since I first flipped the sign to open.

“Thanks bud. I’ve been waiting for these,” I said, as I confirmed the sender’s addresses.

“Hey, my wife wanted to know if you’d been to Rowan West yet?”

“Not yet but at least six people have mentioned to it me in the past two weeks.  That good huh?”

“Better,” he said. “The menu is a bit eclectic but leans heavy toward Irish pub fare.  You know? Like bangers and mash, fish and chips, shepherd’s pie, stuff like that, but then they have a lot of America standbys like buttermilk fried chicken, awesome burgers, and a mac and cheese that should be illegal.  If that’s not enough, Ashling – she’s the owner – is also really good at Italian dishes.  Handmade pastas and flatbread pizzas.  You have to try it.”  He suddenly smirked a bit as he remembered something. “Oh, and they have a gift shop.  You might find some of the books there interesting.”

“A restaurant with a giftshop?” I asked.

He grinned.  “Oh, so much more than a giftshop.  Maybe not a giftshop but a witch shop. Anyway, you should check it out.  Gotta run,” he said leaving as quickly as he arrived.

As the bells on the door stopped their second jingles, I studied my two packages.  One bore a return address from a bookstore in London, most likely the first edition In Memoriam A.H.H. by Tennyson I had acquired for a client.  The other was postmarked Tel Aviv, meaning it was not, therefore, the Robert W. Service collection I was expecting.  There was no sender’s name or address, but I was instantly intrigued, suddenly gripped by one of my hunches. There was a certain rabbi of my acquaintance who helped families of deceased peers monetize obscure private writings.

Working carefully, I used a box cutter with a fresh blade to slice open the box, inserting just the very smallest tip of the razor through the heavy tape.  Inside, the book shaped object was thoroughly protected with layers of bubble wrap, then package paper and finally tissue paper.  The dark brown tome revealed under all that protection wore a prominent Star of David on its cover with Hebrew lettering underneath.  My own bar mitzvah had happened long ago but my trade in international books had kept my reading skills sharp.  The Journal of Zedekiah. Probably an associate of my rabbi friend.

I gently touched the cover to open it and instead I felt an instant premonition.  This book was more than just paper, ink and glue.  It held power of a kind that I had sensed before, in other books and even some objects.  Power of a kind that used to be called magic.  Suddenly, Carl’s words popped into my mind – witch shop.  I had an instant, powerful craving for fish and chips.

Rowan West was a long one-story building set on a big lot just on the outskirts of Castlebury.  It was partway up what the locals called Macomb Hill and there was a nice view of the Vermont countryside from the parking lot.  The building itself had been recently sided with brown barnwood which made it pair nicely with the actual barn that sat back behind the building.  The top of a large deciduous tree rose behind the restaurant and a rather incongruous steel shipping container was set to the left side of the building.  The main entrance to the restaurant was on the far right although there was another door on the left, clearly marked PRIVATE.

The lot was three-quarters full of cars even though it was only just approaching five o’clock on a Tuesday, which lent support to all the recommendations I had heard.  All in all, it seemed like a local’s favorite, tucked slightly out of the way on the edge of town.  My first indication that it might be something more came when I stepped over the threshold, something brushing over my skin like walking through cobwebs.  A ward, albeit a light one, protecting the premises.  My hopes rose even further.

“Just one?” the pretty teenaged hostess asked with a smile.

“Yes, if you have room.”

“There’s still plenty of tables,” she said, grabbing a laminated menu and leading me toward the back wall where there was a row of two person tables.  A wall of windows to my right caught my attention, clearly displaying the giftshop area that Carl had mentioned, and I could immediately see what he had meant.  Crystals on strings and dreamcatchers hung in the windows and shelves of books and things were visible beyond.

“What an interesting looking shop,” I commented to my guide.

“It’s very much that,” she agreed.  “A wide variety of local pottery, art and crafts mixed in with a curated selection of New Age supplies and books.”  Her delivery and choice of words told me that someone had schooled the staff in how to describe the retail space.

“Your waitress will be right over,” she said, leaving the menu at one of the two settings.  It happened to be the one facing the shop, so I settled in, alternating my attention between the menu and the shop.

I already knew I wanted the fish and chips, so it was more a question of what to drink.

“Welcome to Rowan West.  Can I start you with a beverage?” a middle-aged waitress asked.

“Guinness please and I’m ready to order the fish and chips.”

“Well, that makes it easy, doesn’t it,” she said.  “I’ll get that right in and be back with your beer in just a sec.”

She slipped away, taking the menu, which left me just the shop’s windows to occupy my attention.

“I’ve not seen ye around. Are ye new to Rowan West,” a light voice asked in lilting brogue.  I turned and found a very pretty woman almost at my elbow.  She wore a black and green plaid shirt tucked into well fitted jeans with brown flats on her feet. I recognized the shirt pattern as Black Watch tartan.

“New to Rowan West, new to Castlebury Vermont,” I said, smiling automatically.  She had wavey brown hair and clear blue eyes and was extremely attractive.  “Are you the owner?” I hazarded.

“That I am.  Ashling O’Carroll, proprietor,” she said, holding out slim hand.

I shook it firmly and was pleased to have my grip returned with exactly the same level of pressure.  “Levi Guildersleeve, bookseller.”

“Oh, ye must be the owner of that new shop in town, Treasured Words?”

“Guilty as charged, although I can see I have some competition,” I said, nodding toward her shop.

“I’ve peered into yer windows, Mr. Guildersleeve and I don’t for an instant believe that we sell similar products.”

“Well, I haven’t had a chance yet to peruse your inventory, but I favor books of all kinds and only half my business is tied up in the store,” I said.

“Only half ye say?”

“Yes, I also specialize in procuring rare editions for a broad clientele of very serious collectors.”

“Then I’m doubly certain you’ll not find anything rare or valuable in there,” she said with a dismissive wave toward the shop.

“I’ll still take a look if that’s alright, Ms. O’Carroll,” I said.  “You never know what might be hidden in out of the way places.”

A frown flashed across her face, so fast that if I hadn’t been looking at her, I would have missed it completely.  She held my eyes for a moment, her good humor gone, before giving me nod.  “Well help yerself then and enjoy yer meal.”

She moved away toward the kitchen doors, pausing to speak to various customers before finally stopping by a young boy who was clearly busing the tables and clearly not loving it.  She spoke to him, and he nodded once, lifted his tray and carried it into the kitchen.

Feeling like I had somehow offended her, I decided to look in the shop while I waited for my food.

It was bright and well lit, complete with its own checkout counter although no one was manning it.  The shelves were full of New Age books covering everything from tarot reading to crystals to herbology and holistic health.  Books on yoga shared space next to tomes on spiritualism, ghosts, Bigfoot, Lake Champlain’s Champ Lake monster, and organic gardening.  There was a very complete collection of incenses from all over the world along with pendants, geodes and even a collection of giant shark teeth that I recognized as belonging to prehistoric Megalodons.  There was one whole wall displaying packets of herbs and it was an immense collection. The whole shop was very well displayed, dust free and broad in scope.  Not a lot of touristy stuff but rather, as the young hostess had said, a well curated collection for serious practitioners of alternative religions and spiritualism—and other practices.  There were also plants everywhere, some for sale, some not and now that I noticed them, I saw other plants all throughout the entire restaurant.  It was that display of living greenery that made up my mind – Ashling O’Carroll was a witch, or I’d eat my newest book.

My waitress dropped off a pint glass of dark beer at my table, catching my eye and nodding at it before moving off to other customers.  After one last look around the fascinating shop, I headed for my table or rather the Guinness waiting for me there.

As I sat down and took a sip, I noticed a family coming in, a mother, father and a young dark-haired boy with big glasses.  The kitchen door swung open, and the boy Ashling had spoken to came out, heading straight for the family even before the hostess had them seated.  They were obviously regulars based on the familiar greetings that passed back and forth and the boys were clearly friends.

I got a better look at the busboy as I watched surreptitiously.  The boys appeared to be the same age, but whereas the new kid was small and thin, the busboy was taller and lean rather than skinny.  I couldn’t hear any of the conversation, but it appeared that the busboy was telling a joke as the whole family leaned in to listen then the father and son laughed while the mom rolled her eyes and smiled.

I suddenly detected a female shape fast approaching from the direction of the kitchen and focused my eyes forward.

“Are ye here for jest the food or is there some business yer hoping to conduct as well?”

I turned to find Ashling standing in front of me, hands on her hips.  Her expression was neither friendly nor unfriendly, but rather formal.

“Well, I came for the food.  At least six people recommended it – but now that I’ve seen your giftshop I have to wonder if some business isn’t possible,” I said.

“And jest what kind o’ business do you think we can do, Mr. Guildersleeve?”

“Please, call me Levi,” I said, giving her one of my most disarming smiles.  It bounced off like machine gun bullets from a tank’s armor.  “I get feelings about some of the books that pass through my hands, Ms. O’Carroll.  Some folks, the kind of folks who would frequent your shop, might say I have a touch of the Sight.  But it’s a minor thing really.  Just enough to know I’m holding something more than just paper.  I need someone who can give me a bit more information so that I can adequately value the book.”

“And on account of my shop yer thinking what?  That I have some of this… whatever you think it is.”

“Oh, now that I’ve met you, felt the wards on this building, and seen the quality of your wares, I have more than just a feeling about you, Ms. O’Carroll.”

She studied me, blue eyes hard as sapphires, hands on curvy hips.  Then she snorted.  “I won’t promise ye much, Levi, but I will hear yer terms.”

I hadn’t expected her to agree so quickly, thinking I had quite a bit of convincing to do.

“I’m looking for an idea of just how special each book is, which kind of practitioners might value it and lastly, if it’s too dangerous to sell at all.  For that I will pay you five percent of my commission.”

She snorted again.  “If I do all that for ye, I’ll be having ten percent of yer commission.”

“Ouch,” I said, caught off guard.  “Okay, I’ll agree, but only if you can actually appraise such an item to that level.”

“Well, why don’t ye eat yer fish and chips, then ye can bring in that book I feel in yer car and I’ll show ye what I can or can’t do?”

“You’re just guessing,” I said, shocked that she’d mentioned my new book which was sitting in its package under the front seat of my Jeep.

Without taking her eyes from mine, Ashling O’Carroll stepped left just as my waitress arrived with my dinner behind her. “Yer move Mr. Guildersleeve,” she said and walked away to greet the family where the busboy was still laughing.

“She’s, ah, an interesting person,” I said to my waitress.

“If you mean she’s attractive, you’re on the wrong team, champ,” she replied.  “If you mean anything else than I have no idea what you’re talking about.  I’ll bring you some ketchup.”  She put down my food and walked away before I could press her about how she most certainly did have an idea of what I had meant.  Then the first part of her speech registered in my brain and I glanced over at Ashling, who was laughing with the mother, her arm resting lightly on the busboy’s shoulders.  They clearly looked alike, the restauranteur and the busboy.  Probably her son.

I took my first bite of the lightly battered haddock and it floated on my tongue.  Fish and chips can be wonderful, or it can be awful, and I’ve had every combination all over the globe.  This went beyond the best I had ever had. It was such a burst of subtle flavor that I couldn’t identify why it was so good.

In the middle of my culinary epiphany, the door to the restaurant opened and a cop walked in.  Sheriff’s deputy, female, muscular, stocky.  She spotted the family group, the busboy and Ashling and headed right for them.  I temporarily forgot my dinner as I watched to see what would transpire.

Despite the warning the waitress had given me, I wasn’t expecting the tough cop to simply walk up, hug and kiss the restaurant owner, smack the busboy on the shoulder and warmly greet the mother and father.

My waitress chose that moment to appear with the ketchup, plunking the chunky plastic bottle down on my table.  “As I said, you’re not in the running.”

“For the record, I was implying that she is sorta spooky,” I said.

“Is that why you’re snooping around?  Trying to get some kind of story on my boss?”

“No.  I’ve asked her to do some work for me and I’m thinking she’s qualified to do it,” I said.

“Work?”

“You already know I own a bookstore, right?”

She nodded.

“Well, some books are different.  Special.  Weird.”

“Oh.  I get it.  Yeah, she’s more than qualified.  Enjoy your food,” she said and walked away.

I took my time thinking it through as I ate my awesome dinner and then I went to my car and brought back the wrapped book.

Moments later, before I even had a chance to look around, Ashling appeared at my table.  She looked at the wrapped package sitting in front of me and then touched it with one finger.

“Kabbalistic.  It’d be the personal diary of a mystic.  Has a nice energy to it, ya know.  Kind o’ a cleansing feel to it.  Most useful for another practitioner of Kabbalah.”

I was stunned speechless, mouth open but no words coming out.  “Well?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“That’s, ah, that’s the kind of thing I was, ah, thinking about,” I finally said.

“And that’s of value to you, is it?”

“Oh yeah.  In fact, I’ll pay you two hundred dollars for that little tidbit right there,” I said.

“Will ye now?” she asked, her eyes bright with interest.  “That would mean you think your commission is two thousand dollars.”

“Quick with numbers,” I noted.  “It actually might be more than that, and if it is I’ll pay you the additional money as well.”

“Which requires a bit o’ trust now don’t it?”

“Yes, although I’ll give you an accounting.”

“Alright then.  I’d say we have deal, we do. Let’s put it on account, if ye don’t mind?” she suggested.  “Maybe I can collect me balance every few months or so?”

“That would be, ah, fine,” I said, holding out my hand to shake on it.

She eyed my hand for a moment and then took it.  After that she was off to greet other customers and I ordered and ate the chocolate mousse for dessert and then headed home.

Based on her reading of the book, I was able to sell it to one of my New York City collectors who would pay a pretty penny for any religious text that had energy associated with it, particularly kabbalistic ones.  I made so much money on that sale that I was able to send a significant check to the rabbi who had sent it my way and still have a tidy profit, even allowing for my fee to Ms. O’Carroll, which was three times the amount I had told her.

Chapter 2

Before I could make it back to Rowan West for another meal that week, I was contacted by one of my better suppliers in Dublin, who had found an opportunity for some truly rare volumes I had been hunting for years.  Within forty-eight hours I was sitting in a pub in Ireland, across from my friend, Argus Finn, having concluded the successful acquisition of three first editions and one very old book handwritten in Polish.

“That one be a true grimoire, or I’ll be eating yer left boot,” Argus said after the deal had been struck.  I was pretty sure he was right based upon the severe tingle in my fingers and hands when I handled it.  Almost like an electrical shock.

“Do you have someone over here who assesses these kinds of things?” I asked.

“Ye think there’s a pretty bespectacled librarian somewhere that gives me the nod, do ye?” he joked.

“No, I was thinking of a witch or something,” I said.

He pulled back, face first startled and then frowning as he glanced left and right, before he leaned forward.  “Ye don’t ever be talking of soch things, Levi.”

It was my turn to glance around, but no one was even close to us in the dim neighborhood pub.

“I thought Ireland was some kind of witch haven or something?” I asked in a near whisper.

I had met Argus in Iraq.  I was part of an Israeli army detachment that provided counterinsurgency advice to the allies.  Argus had been on a tour at the behest of the United Kingdom military.  We shared a love of literature and old books.  Now, years later, we each owned a bookstore albeit separated by the Atlantic Ocean, and we did business together regularly. He had a wicked sense of humor, but his face was deadly serious now.

“Exactly why we aren’t to be speaking of it in public,” he whispered.  “They could be right here, right now.”

It was my turn to frown.  “And they’d just attack us or something if they heard?”

“It be the or something,” he said looking around. “Sudden accidents, illness or a psyops attack to make ready to take yer own life.”

I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing, choosing a bite of sausage swirled through gravy rich mashed potatoes instead. Angus said nothing either, just looking uncomfortable while he sipped his pint.

“You’re serious?  No joke?” I asked.

“Like a myocardial infarction,” he replied.

“This happens a lot?” I asked, eyes looking around, but seeing nothing remotely suspicious.

He shook his head.  “No, or I’d be a moving me shop lock, stock and barrel to yer side of the Pond.  But it does happen.  Some would say that they got tired of being hunted and don’t put up with it no more.”

“And your Irish variety is tough?” I asked.

“Toughest.  No joke lad.  No bragging,” he said.

“So what do you do when you come across a gri… book like the one we got today?”

“I don’t.  Ye jest don’t see them here in these parts.  Today was a first and ye got that one,” he said.  “No offense, but that’s how it be.”

I thought he’d stepped out of the bidding for old times’ sake, but that wasn’t it at all. He’d never had a single intention of getting near the Polish book.

“What do you expect me to do with it?”

He shrugged, then made flying motions with his arms like a bird.  “Yer the one that specializes in that sort.”

“Ouch,” I said, stung by his disregard.

“It’s as I say.  You trade in it, I don’t,” he said, slightly guilty but not overmuch. “Ye must have a way with it, right?”

“I do… now,” I said, still bruised.

“A… ya know?”

“Yeah, and my you know used to be one of yours,” I said absently, sipping my Guinness.

He went very still.  I glanced up to see him watching me like I was about to explode.  “That would be most uncommon,” he finally said.  I raised a single eyebrow.  He leaned forward.  “They don’t leave Eire,” he whispered.

“Mine did.  Sometime ago.”

He shook his head violently from side to side, holding up one palm.  “No, don’t be saying a single word more.  I don’t want to be knowing.”

I watched him for a moment, then nodded, taking another bite of food rather than speaking.

He looked away, uncomfortable, sipping his beer.  I kept eating.  An awkward silence fell over our meal.  Finally, after a couple of minutes he leaned forward.

“Rumors, ye see,” he said.

“Oh?”

“It be like yer Mafia.  Once in, never out,” he said.

“There must be exceptions,” I said.  “Because I know one.”

He shook his head.  “Like I said – rumors.  Something happened eight or ten years ago.  A couple went missing.  Intentional like.”

“I thought you stayed away from this stuff?”

“When ye deal in rare books in Ireland, ye don’t always have a choice of ignoring things,” he said.

“You were approached?” I guessed.

He nodded.  “Be on the lookout for two.  Young.  A right pair of dingers.  Strong,” he said, being cryptic as hell and finishing with a raised eyebrow.

“I know just the one, so I must be wrong,” I said, and then almost said that she was a real dinger, real attractive, but a thought occurred to me. “Wait, you’re going to sell this information?”

He went white, shaking his head.  “Never heard ye say a damned thing – on me life,” he said.

My combat buddy was terrified. And his meaning was clear.  Even suggesting he might have a lead could get him killed.

“Well then I must be wrong.  Probably just has a touch of the Sight,” I said, frowning.

He nodded sagely.  “Lots of that about this isle.  Me own mum had a bit o’ that.”

“What’s a good price for those first additions do you think?” I asked, changing topic.

He launched into a detailed analysis of the books and their value.  Three hours later I was on a flight back to Boston, my purchases wrapped in silk, buried deep in my carryon.

It was very late, or very early depending on your point of view, when I finally got home.  I slept eight hours straight, waking up long after the noon hour.  A hot shower, fresh clothes, and a half pot of coffee set me right, so I got busy with my three first editions.  I took high-definition pictures of them from multiple angles, then started my emails.  Two hours later, they were sold.  I packaged them up and dropped them at the UPS office in town, then headed to Rowan West.  Other than the coffee and some stale oyster crackers from my almost empty larder, I hadn’t had a thing to eat.

It was still early for dinner, but the restaurant was open, just sparsely occupied.  Me and one older couple.  Having gone slim on vegetables lately, I opted for a bowl of chicken barley soup and a big chef’s salad, all washed down with an Allagash White Ale.  I was over half done with my salad before I saw Ms. O’Carroll.  She came out of the kitchen, glanced around, noticed me, eyes guarded, then turned, smiled and greeted the older couple by name.

I went back to eating, and on my second to last bite, she appeared at the side of my table.  “Mr. Guildersleeve, I wondered when I might see you around,” she said with a short, sharp smile.

“Ms. O’Carroll,” I said.  “I was away, out of the country on an acquisition trip.  Just got back.”

“And were yer travels safe?”

“Mostly.  Brought back something I could use your advice on.”

She glanced at the soft leather briefcase at my feet.  “I can about smell it,” she said, making a face like said smell was awful.

“Well I don’t know what to do with it,” I said.

“Aren’t you going to sell it?” she asked, one brow arching.

“Not if it’s dangerous.”

“And if it is?”

“I’ll destroy it,” I said.

“Odd sorta notion fer a book man, isn’t it?”

“Somethings are dangerous and require caution, like firearms, and somethings are just too dangerous and need to be rendered safe, like explosive ordinance.”

“Spoken like a soldier,” she noted.

“Which I have been.”

“And where did you find this item?” she asked, studying me carefully like she was trying to read my very soul.

“Ireland.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t react, just watched me.  Then she nodded.

“Aunt Ash I’m done with the firewood,” a young boyish voice said.

She whipped around to stare at the bus boy from the other night.

“Then you’ll be needing to clean out the grease trap,” she said.

“What? Aunt Ash…” he began, but she cut him off with a sharp hand gesture.  His dismayed eyes flicked from her to me, narrowed, and then he nodded and turned, heading back into the kitchen without a sound.

“Nephew?”

She put her hands on her hips.  “Never mind the likes of him.  What is it yer looking for from me?”

“One, is it what I think… a recipe book? And how do I get rid of it?”

She nodded toward my feet, “May I?”

“Please,” I said, picking up the bag and handing it to her.  It was no sooner in her hands then she was nodding, a grimace on her face.

“There be two kinds,” she said.  “Okay and not okay.  This is not okay.”

“How do I get rid of it?”

“You don’t.  I do.”  Her face was wary.

“Listen, I’ll still pay you,” I said.  “Let’s call it hazardous demolition pay.”

She studied me for a moment, the briefcase with the Polish grimoire still in her hands.  Then she nodded.  “We’ll work that out.  I need to get this somewhere safe,” she said with a glance over her shoulder at the kitchen.  Protecting her nephew, I thought.  Turns out I was both right and wrong, but I didn’t find out till much later.

I left the book with her and headed home.

Chapter 3

The old saying that when it rains it pours is pretty descriptive of the rest of that week.  I got another book in the mail, this one from Russia. It was a gem, reputed to be the personal journal of a famous religious figure and it made my fingers itch to touch it.

“Ah, Mr. Guildersleeve,” was my greeting as I entered Rowan West.  It appeared tonight’s hostess was the proprietor herself.  And the place was packed.

“It’s just Levi.  My dad is mister not me.”

“Well, then Just Levi, I suppose ye can call me Ashling.  Just yerself is it?”

It was, as I hadn’t brought a single date anywhere near her restaurant.  It wasn’t that I thought I had a chance as I understood that she wouldn’t find me attractive.  Instead, it was a sort of reluctance to display any of my personal life to a person who likely had way more than a touch of Sight.  Plus, I conduct most of my dates in Burlington, which has lots more to do than Castlebury and keeps me out of my neighbors’ view, small town life being something of a fishbowl.

“I suppose you have another task for me?” she asked, glancing at my briefcase.

“What, can’t I just come for dinner?”

“Oh, is it just dinner, is it?” she asked, possibly disappointed.

“No, I actually do have another text for your assessment.  It’s said to have belonged to a Russian mystic.”

“Right then,” she said, one brow going up in an intrigued manner.  “If ye’ll jest be following me.”

She led the way to a small two-person table near the kitchen door.  Behind us a pair of couples entered and she looked their way.  “I’ll be back.  Short a hostess tonight, ye see?”

I was in a bangers and mash mood tonight and the menu promised that Rowan West made it with locally sourced Vermont sausages.  Tonight’s waitress was very young, but clearly sharp and well trained.  In short order I had a Long Trail Ale to sip as I watched the restaurant in action.

Ashling’s nephew was staying in constant motion, and I was impressed with his work ethic.  He didn’t seem to take breaks and knew most of the diners by name, smiling and joking with them.  At first, I thought he was maybe twelve, as he was quite tall.  But I heard a woman ask him about fifth grade and realized he was likely ten or so.  He helped the waitresses carrying out their orders, refilled water glasses, bused tables and cleaned up the occasional spill or mess. Not your average fifth grader.

My waitress dropped off my food and it was better than anything I’d ever tasted in Ireland.  Something about the herbs that made it extra savory.

“And jest how is it?” Ashling asked, appearing by my side.

“Amazing.  Best I’ve tasted,” I said.

“Well, thank you then.  We grow our own vegetables, greens and herbs, and source the rest locally ye see?”

“I can see why this place is so popular, or I should say, I can taste why.”

“I’m free for a moment as me young hostess finally made it in,” she said.

Taking the hint, I reached down and grabbed the briefcase.  She took it, gave me a nod and disappeared out the kitchen door, the same way she had taken the grimoire.

She was back in less than ten minutes, casually setting my bag on the floor by my feet.  “It be real,” she said, “and it was not jest any mystic.”

“No?” I asked, my heart beating a little faster.

“Rasputin,” she said, catching and holding my eyes with her own.

I smiled.  “That was the rumor, but you know how these things are?”

“Indeed.  I do.  So, how does a man of arms become a seller of books?”

“My mom is American by birth, but she emigrated to Israel fairly young and met my dad there.  She teaches English, which happened to be my only strong subject in school.  I did my required term in the IDF, liked it, and reupped.  Altogether I was a soldier for ten years.  My duties took me abroad and travel agreed with me, every location a place to collect books and meet fellow collectors.  When I got out an acquaintance asked me to retrieve a valuable early manuscript which I did.  One thing led to another, and I became a kind of go-to-person for acquiring rare books.”

“What did ye do for the military, if ye don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t.  Infantry, then Combat Intelligence, and finally, for the last two years, an instructor.  Unarmed combat.”

“And do those skills come in handy when ye retrieve books?”

“It’s more competitive than you might guess,” I said with a smile.

“You’re an interesting man, Levi,” she said, “Ye be sure to let me know if ye need any detail.”

Ashling’s confirmation allowed me to confidently auction the book among a group of my richest customers. It sold for more money than any book I had ever handled in my life.   In fact, it was so valuable that I personally delivered it to the winning bidder at his home in California.  It was while I was waiting for a connecting flight home in O’Hare airport that I saw a news bulletin that a serial killer of children had been killed in Burlington, Vermont.  The two boys he abducted were not named, as somehow the man had managed to kill himself with a car battery before he could harm the boys.

When I got back to Castlebury, it was Carl, my UPS guy, who clued me in.  “Did you hear?  About the abduction?”

“Yeah, a serial killer, linked to like fifteen disappearances.  Fried himself, right?” I looked up from my computer to sign for another package.

“Did he?  I mean, you know who he tried to abduct right?”

“No, there was no mention of who the boys were,” I said, taking the package from him.

“Both boys are from Castlebury.  Lawyer’s kid and… your favorite restaurant owner’s nephew.”

“No way?”

“Yup.  Both fine.  But what are the odds that a guy who has killed fifteen kids screws up and electrocutes himself?” Carl asked.  “Let me put it this way… would you try and take her kid?”

“What are you saying?  You think she somehow…” I trailed off.

He shrugged, palms up, eyes wide, head tilted, mouth tight.  “I know I wouldn’t, that’s all I’m saying.”

As he left, I decided tonight would be dinner out.

Chapter 4

I don’t know what exactly I expected.  What is the protocol for handling children who’ve been through an abduction attempt?  At Rowan West it was apparently a lot of hard work, because the kid was busy hauling trays when I got there.

“Ye were an instructor ye told me?” Ashling asked as soon as she saw me at my table.  No hello, no preamble.  “Unarmed combat, was it?”

“Yeah.  Krav Maga actually.  Do you know what that is?”

She nodded.  “I’ve a friend, Darci, a deputy.  She’s mentioned it among others.”

“Why?” I asked, although I had an idea.

“Ye’ve heard?”

I nodded.  No use pretending, especially as a least half the customers were clearly talking about it and the other half were glancing at the boy as he worked.

“I think I would like to take me earnings in the form of lessons for the boy,” she said.

“Are you sure? You’ve built up quite a balance,” I asked.

“You’re asking if I value money more than me nephew?” she asked, frowning in dangerous disbelief.

“No, no.  It’s just that much money will pay for a whole lot of lessons,” I said, quickly.

She pulled out the other chair and sat down across from me.  “I’ve decided to trust you Levi Guildersleeve, but you should know my trust comes at a price.  If you betray that trust, it will be very, very bad… for you, for me, for the world, and again, for you.”

“Threats?”

“Yes, mixed with warnings, ye see,” she said nodding.  “I’m thinking it has occurred to you that I’m no hedge witch?”

I nodded.  “My understanding of these things, which is limited, tells me that Irish witches don’t really leave Ireland.”

“That’s both wrong and right.  Many are free to travel, free to leave.  But there are some what are not.  Witches belong to circles.  Some are small and weak, some are large and strong, and some are jest very, very powerful.  It’s the last kind what are restrictive.  Me sister and me come from one such.”

I knew for sure at that moment that she was one of the ones Argus had mentioned.  “Where’s your sister now?”

“She’s dead, Levi,” she said, holding me captive with her deadly serious blue eyes.  “A couple’a years back,” she said, her brogue getting thicker.  “She let down her guard, she did.”

“They killed her?”

She nodded, looking down at her hands.

“Leaving you with her boy.”

She held both hands open.  “These were the first hands to ever touch that boy.  I delivered him meself, here, in this very building.  As a lass I wondered what great and powerful things I would do with me life.  Never did I imagine that midwifing that lad would be one of them.”

“He’s a witch too?” I guessed.

She snorted.  “You could say.”

A sudden thought hit me, an intense understanding that might not have been just pure intuition.  “That man, he didn’t electrocute himself, did he?”

“No, he did not.”

“And you didn’t kill him either?”

“I’m an Air witch, Levi.   Should I need to defend meself it be with wind and the very air that a man might have in his lungs.”

“The boy?”

She nodded, watching me.

I started to ask a question, but another burst of understanding struck like lightning.  “You want him trained to defend himself so that he doesn’t use his powers… doesn’t give himself away?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

I glance across the room at the boy who was being asked for the tenth time in as many minutes if he was okay by concerned and nosey customers.

“I don’t know anything about you – “I waved my hands at her, “– all.  I don’t know how to teach someone like that.”

“Ye teach him like ye teach anyone,” she said with dismissive wave of her own.  “He’s disciplined, careful, far beyond a lad his age should be.  In a moment I’ll be introducing ye.  Ye need to follow me lead as I haven’t told the boy about the work I’ve been doing for ye.  This be the time to introduce it, ye see?”

I nodded although I didn’t really understand why she wanted it this way.  But was I going to argue with a real witch about it?  Hell no.

“Declan, lad, come meet my new friend here,” she called out as the boy walked across the restaurant dining room with a tray.

He set down the tray and came over, studying me with blue eyes very like his aunt’s.

“Declan meet Levi Guildersleeve, bookseller, and man of the world,” Ashling said, looking slightly amused.  “Levi, this is me nephew I’ve been telling ye about.”

I stood, because it seemed appropriate. We shook hands and I was impressed with the strength of his grip.

“How do you do, Declan?” I asked.

“Pretty good, Mr. Guildersleeve.  You’re new around here aren’t you?  You’ve been in, what, three or four times?  You like the Irish classics, fish and chips or the bangers and mash,” he said.

“Observant,” I said, looking at Ashling.

“Sometimes,” she said.  “Declan, Mr. Guildersleeve has an interest in Rowan West’s occult supplies.  Found us through that website you made.”

I had actually looked the web site over before my first dinner, and it was very impressive, but this was the first mention of it.  Must be that lead I needed to follow.

“Declan is your web creator?” I asked.

“Aye, that he is.  Has an affinity for electronics and such,” she said.  “Some of what Mr. Guildersleeve sells are books of a rather special variety, lad.”  She caught and held his eyes.

“Family recipe books?” he asked.  Odd that I had used the exact same phrase with her just a few days ago.

“Exactly, lad.  He’s kenned us out,” she said, watching him like a hawk.

His eyes came back to mine and the air got cold, static lifting the hairs on my head.  I felt a tingle across the skin of my face and hands.

“None of that now, lad.  I’m pretty sure of this one,” she said sharply.   “Could you feel any of that, Mr. Guildersleeve?”

Instantly the static feeling disappeared and the air warmed.  The tingling stopped too.

“I could,” I said, surprised that I had, “and I think you should call me Levi.”

“Levi here used to be a soldier in a distant land,” Ash said.

“Israel,” I said.

“He was, he tells me, an instructor in unarmed combat.  I asked him to teach you,” she said to Declan.

He looked from her to me and back again. Complex thoughts were being processed under that shaggy brown hair, and he was clearly very intelligent.

“Okay,” he said, watching his aunt it a way that told me her opinion was vastly important to him.

“We’ll have to discuss the matter of payment,” Ashling said to me.  Another of those lead things.  Then I remembered that she hadn’t told him about the book advice.

“You know, I could use an expert opinion on a number of rare volumes I have currently, as well as any new ones I acquire.  I have a… nose, let’s call it… for authentic work, but it’s not refined at all.  Pricing these things is super important.  Perhaps we could work a trade of skills?”

“Perhaps we could at that,” she said, then gave the boy a look that clearly dismissed him.

“Nice to meet you Declan,” I said.

“You too, Mister… er… Levi,” he said with a nod.  With a last glance at his aunt, he turned and resumed his work.

“He, ah, he seems much older,” I said. “Much, much older.”

“He has to be,” Ashling said, eyes still on the boy who was a witch.  A witch that had somehow electrocuted a full-grown man, an experienced killer.

We agreed that I would start teaching Declan Krav Maga the following week, at my shop where I had a back room big enough for combat lessons.  I started researching witches as soon as I got home and unlike most of the modern world, I didn’t use the internet.  My own inventory provided material that was likely far more complete than the internet and much more private.  I was deep into it the next day, reading between the handful of customers who came in.

As near as I could glean from the various books in my occult section, magic seemed to fall into various elements: Air, Water, Earth and Fire.  While most witches could do at least a little bit with each, they also each had one element that they had a stronger affinity for.  Ashling said hers was Air.  From what I could tell, her specialty not only included actually moving air with control over wind but also it likely gave her some abilities to divine information about people and things, like clairvoyance or palm reading maybe.

The bell over the door rang and I looked up to see a deputy sheriff coming in.  It was the same woman I had seen with Ashling at the restaurant.  Darci maybe.

She locked eyes with me, and I instantly recognized another fighter.  She was compact but muscular and carried herself in a manner that clearly declared to the world she was no one to fuck with.

She glanced around the empty shop.

“Deputy,” I said.  “Can I help you?”

She didn’t answer but glanced behind me at the open door to my office which was, of course, empty.

“Ashling tells me she’s arranged for you to teach Declan,” she said without preamble.

“Darci is it?” I asked.  She nodded warily.

“Yes.  That’s our agreement.”

“I’ve checked you out,” she said.  “Ran your name past a few people I know.”

“You’re ex-military?” I guessed.

She nodded.  “Air Force. Security forces. I want to get a few things straight.”

I leaned back and waved one hand for her to continue.

“Ashling tells me you know about her… about him?” she asked, head tilted, eyes glancing down at the book in front of me.

I shrugged.  “I don’t know what it all means,” I said, closing the book.

“First thing.  You don’t know something, you ask.  That,” she nodded at the book, “won’t tell you near enough. So you go to the source, got it?”

“Just hit her with my questions?” I asked, thinking the poor woman was going to be sick to death of me if that was the case.

“Yes.  It’s too important.  You can’t guess and you won’t find the answers in books,” she said.  “Second, I’m teaching him firearms so leave that out of your lessons.  Knives, sticks, staffs and what have you, fine, but I don’t want him confused on shooting, got it?”

I frowned.  “You make it sound like he’s going into basic training.”

She shook her head, “No, much more intense than that.  Ashling says he’s important and he needs options other than his, you know, magic or whatever.”

“You don’t sound all that up on it yourself,” I said.

“Because I don’t need to know everything,” she said.  “That woman finds lost kids like you find your lost place in a book.  What she does I will never understand, and I don’t need to, unless it comes to him.”

“This,” I tapped my book, “says boy witches don’t generally have much juice.”

“Like I said, don’t go thinking your books got it all,” she said.  “And one more thing.”

I raised my eyebrows invitingly.

“You find rare secret things and sell them.  You’ve somehow just found the rarest of secrets, but if you so much as think about selling that information I will make absolutely certain you never get a chance to close that deal, got it?”

“Ah, the threats,” I said.  “I was wondering when they’d appear.”

“There ya go.  Have a nice day segen mishne,” she said, using my last IDF rank, which was basically a platoon leader or second lieutenant.

She was telling me how thoroughly she’d looked into my background. I felt my temper rise as I watched the door close behind her, but then I thought of the woman she obviously thought of as way more than a friend.  And I thought of a boy who had made the temperature drop and somehow fried a serial killer.  Wouldn’t I have done the same thing if our roles were reversed?

Chapter 5

Turns out teaching a witch was just like teaching anyone else.  At least if that person was super serious, respectful and a quick study.  He was like the ideal student.  I’ve taught hundreds of young soldiers, male and female, and this fifth grader was as diligent as the best of them.

Sometimes you have to instill respect for your position as instructor in certain trainees, usually males with overconfidence.  I had worried about how I would earn the respect of a witch.  It was never an issue.  He showed up on time, dressed in sweats and did everything I asked, paid close attention, and worked at each lesson till I told him to stop.  Honestly, he was almost scary in his dedication.  I asked Darci about it while we waited for him to change so she could take him home after his fourth lesson. She had watched part of several of our lessons.

“Ashling tells me he is incredibly special.  I thought she was just a proud aunt, but the more time I spend with them the more I see what she means.  Between you and me she told me that she personally only knew a handful of Earth witches that could electrocute a man with a car battery and none at ten years old.”

“He’s Earth then?”

She looked at me for a moment before coming to a decision.  “Earth and Fire.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, like his mother was and apparently, she was considered world class.  I think Ashling is too.”

“So wouldn’t you expect a kid from a pedigree like that to have a little attitude?” I asked.

“If he had been raised some other way maybe.  Ashling is really tough on him, and I understand his mother was even tougher.  He is expected to work hard, get good grades, keep his head down and stay under the radar, and he better damned well stay humble.”

“Well, he works really hard at this,” I noted.

“Most of the other kids are afraid of him now.  He’s only got a couple of friends and he worries about losing them too.  Ashling told him that defending himself with what you teach and not magic will help with that.”

“Really?  She knows I’m teaching him battlefield combat and not sport karate, right?  Because I have some concerns about teaching a kid how to maim people with his hands.”

She snorted.  “As opposed to a kid who can mess you up with a thought?”

“He ever hurt anyone before?”

She looked at me askance.  “Never.  He doesn’t even like killing weeds, but she makes him.”

I must have looked puzzled because she took pity on my confusion. “Before it happened, she never taught him how to use his abilities to defend himself.  Now she makes him learn.”

“Then why the Krav?”

“Escalation of force options, soldier.  If another kid bullies him, he’s to use non-maiming techniques, if another serial killer takes a stab at him, full on Krav or a gun or a knife, but if witches show up, or he’s bound again, his, ah, abilities.”

“Wait, he didn’t have any training when he took out that kidnapper?”

“He’s been training in witchcraft since he could crawl, but not defensively. When he was attacked his magic or whatever it is reacted and fried the bastard.  But just like hand-to-hand, he’ll have other options from mild to wild.”

“He that much of a target?”

“Listen I don’t know anything about their world, but the woman I love is an expert and she tells me that some people will and have killed to track down her and his mother.  If they find out that he exists it’ll be bloody at best.”

Declan came out of the bathroom, his hair wet from a quick shower.  “I’m ready Darci.  I was pretty smelly, I think.”

He was a crazy combination of child and sixty-year-old man, all awkward and earnest at the same time.

“Good job today Declan.  You keep putting that kind of effort in and you’ll do great,” I said.

“Thank you, Levi,” he said, saying my name carefully.  I had to keep reminding him not to call me Mr. Guildersleeve.

Two weeks later I was helping a last-minute customer when the kid arrived for his lesson.  I sent him into our makeshift training room to get warmed up while I wrapped the woman’s purchase.

She watched him curiously as he let himself into the back.

“A little young to be working, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Country kids grow up early,” I said.  She clearly wanted to ask more but kept her questions to herself.

I walked her to the door, locked it, and flipped the sign.

Declan’s very first lesson had begun by helping me clear the room, sweep it and move some training equipment in.  I had two heavy bags, some wrestling mats, a couple of kettlebells, a rack of fighting sticks, and one of those realistic looking combat dummies that looks like a muscular tough guy, only without arms.

Declan was punching on the dummy instead of the heavy bags and his face was a tight mask of frowns, his blows clearly driven by anger.  He was doing combinations, running through a series that I had listed on the little white board with today’s workout written out.  Jabs, backhands, palm strikes, hooks and straight punches.  I watched him for a few minutes, letting him burn off his raw emotion.

“Okay, good.  Drop and stretch,” I said, falling backwards into a breakfall.  He copied me then took up the hamstring stretch I was leading off with.  “What’s up?” I asked.

I don’t have huge amounts of experience with kids, but I do have a niece a little older than Declan and she would have been extremely reluctant to talk.  I was readying myself for extracting the issue, but he just came out with it.

“Trey’s an asshole.”

“He’s the other kid, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, I basically saved both of us and he hates me.  He’s such a douchebag.”

His aunt might have corrected his language, but I wasn’t her.  And men use language like that to express our stunted and poorly developed emotions.

“What’s his problem?” I asked, despite already guessing the answer.

“I don’t know.  He’s always spreading lies about me, and he says stuff, even in front of the teachers.”

“His dad is that big shot litigator in Burlington, right?”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole too.”

“Well, you can see where he learned it, right?”

He nodded, folding his head down to his knee with the stretchy ease of youth.

“And he’s afraid of you, so what he learned from his father comes out,” I said.

“But I saved him?” he asked, hurt and confusion clear in his eyes and tone.

“Let me guess: popular, good at sports, brags a lot?”

He nodded again.

“With a dad like that he’s probably under a lot of pressure, like you are with your aunt, but a different kind of pressure.”

That caught him off guard and I could see his wheels turning over that thought.

“But she doesn’t like me to show off or brag?”

“That’s her expectation and it’s for lots of important reasons.  But a bigshot attorney who lives for attention will expect his kid to do the same, be the same as him.  Be the best, brag the most, get the prettiest girlfriend, be the alpha kid.  Then you save his bacon with something he can’t understand or compete with.”

He stopped stretching and just stared at me.  “But we were friends?”

I nodded.  “I’m not saying he’s a great kid who’s misunderstood, he made his choices like anyone else, and he made the wrong ones.  He’s choosing to be a dick.  But if you understand him, it gives you options.  Keep stretching.”

He had frozen at my words, and he was clearly interested, but I wanted him in motion, so I moved to a different stretch.

“How?  What kind of options?”

“When you deal with a bully who wants the attention, wants everyone to either fear him or envy him you won’t get anywhere by doing what he does.  You don’t play his game, you play yours.”

“I don’t have a game,” he said.

“Hah.  You’re the hardworking kid who helps his aunts, studies hard and gets good grades.  Your aunts tell me you’re amazing with anything electronic, that you help the waitresses and the cooks with computers and phones.”

He nodded.  “It’s part of me.  I don’t craft or anything, it just happens.  Even Aunt Ash can’t detect me using any power when I do it.  Makes it easy to hide.”

“Like what?  Installing software?”

“Anything.  Software, figuring out hardware, electrical circuits in a house or building, cell phones, printers, anything tech.”

“Do you help anyone at school?”

“Sometimes.  Some of the teachers, if they’re cool.  Some of my friends.”

“Can you do the opposite?  Make tech mess up?”

“Even easier,” he said.

“Show me.”

He waved a hand, and the lights went out.   They came back on with another wave.  “That bulb up there is gonna blow pretty soon,” he said, looking at the can light in the ceiling.

“Kids these days are all about technology, aren’t they?” I asked.

He nodded.  “There ya go.  Help kids and teachers, nothing flashy but set yourself up as a resource.  Then, the kids that suck, well, an occasional phone or computer mishap, also nothing flashy and absolutely nothing dangerous and nothing that leads back to you.”

“But if they don’t know it was me how does that help?”

“They already suspect you of stuff, right?”  He nodded.  “Well, after one or two mishaps, they’ll suspect you for that even more.  Again, low key stuff.  You have to fly low, under radar.”

“You think this will help?”

“What were the four steps we talked about?  Of krav maga?”

“Ah, perceive a threat, analyze the problem, formulate a plan and execute,” he said, the light dawning in his eyes.

“You’ve been perceiving the threat for some time, today we analyzed it.”

“And we’re formulating a plan,” he said with a smile.

“What’s next?”

“Execution.”

“Exactly.  Remember: disrupt their thoughts, do damage, put them off balance.”

“I thought that was for fights or violence?”

“Just because he’s not punching you don’t think he’s not attacking you.  Alienating you with the other kids, making you feel and look bad, ridiculing you.  It’s all psychological but that can win an entire fight by itself.”

Later, after he left, I was shutting things down and as I turned off the lights in our dojo the bulb blew.

The next lesson he came into the store, smiled at both me and Mrs. Carter, even helping carry her boatload of books to her car.

“You seem upbeat?” I asked as we stretched.

“It’s working.  I’ve been helping kids with iPods and phones and stuff.  Today I even helped Jessica Connors, Trey’s girlfriend, right in computer class. We were friends before the, well, you know. Anyway, it pissed him off so bad, but he couldn’t do anything, especially as his own project somehow got deleted and he had to redo it.”

“You could do that?  Mess up his computer?”

He nodded.  “It’s like they talk to me or maybe just that I can sorta hear them – computers that is.  And I can sorta send commands at them.  The more I learn in computer class the easier it seems to be.”

“Did he know it was you?” I asked.

“How could he?  I was three places away.  But that was my first one, my first – ah, mishap,” he said, trying out the unfamiliar word.

“Okay, let’s do the flow drill several times, then we’re start some defenses against weapons.”

He got excited at that and immediately demonstrated the krav flow drill, getting it perfect the first time.

Chapter 6

His general mood improved after that, but I watched him carefully, waiting for the signs.  Two weeks later I spent most our session dumping him on his ass, over and over.

He kept bouncing to his feet, getting angrier and angrier.  Truth be told, I was a bit nervous that his control might slip.  But then after a particularly energetic foot sweep, he just sat on the mat and looked at me, frowning.

“What did I do?” he asked.

“You got cocky,” I said.

He frowned, his eyes going up to the ceiling, clearly trying to recall our session.  I helped him out.  “Not about Krav,” I said.  “With your plan.  Your mood has been great but lately I sense a little overconfidence.  Tonight’s lesson was really more of a life lesson than a fighting lesson.”

He stood, rubbing his ass and lower back.  “That you can beat me up?”

“Sorta.  I was demonstrating that I’m older, stronger for now, and more skilled.  You have to have confidence, but you also have to be wary.  You came in yesterday and today like a big shot, walking on top of the world.  So I knocked you off the top,” I said.

He thought about that, looking at me while processing it, frowning slightly.  I decided to add a little humor.  “I mean, what if you met up with Chuck Norris?”

That caught him off guard, forcing a snort of laughter out of him.  He and his two main guy friends were always trading Chuck Norris jokes.

“Did you know that Chuck Norris built the hospital that he was born in?” he asked, smiling.

“Well, I do know that when he was born the only one to cry was the doctor – you don’t slap Chuck and get away with it,” I said.

He got a sly look, like boys do when they decide to stray into gray areas.  “Chuck Norris once visited the Virgin Islands,” he said. “Now they’re known as just the Islands.”

Despite myself I laughed.  “All right wise ass, go get the escrima sticks and we’ll practice our footwork and forms.”

I felt like we were doing pretty well, he and I.  And my business was booming. With his aunt’s expertise at decoding arcane and occult books and objects, I was getting requests to either evaluate or find volumes all over the place. So my travel went up which led to some missed sessions.  To make it up I brought him stuff from the places I visited, little things, like matchbooks (the kid could create fire in thin air so matches were so not scary) and drink coasters from pubs and bars, cool t-shirts from Europe, Asia and Australia, and book markers from all the strange and wonderful bookstores I visited.  His prospects for travel were limited, what with keeping his head down and hidden, so my trinkets fed his imagination and kept his own plans for someday getting out of upstate Vermont alive and well.

Ashling invited me to family dinners, to major and minor solstices as well as regular American holidays.  Darci included me sometimes when she took him shooting, as much so that we could stay on the same page with the work he did with me.  Learning to handle a Glock from the correct end helps immensely when you’re doing disarming drills with a dummy gun because you understand how the machine works.

Six months into our training and I was returning from an acquisition trip to Hong Kong.  My phone rang almost the exact moment my plane landed at the Burlington Airport.  The caller ID listed Ashling. My flight was thirty-two minutes late but somehow, she knew the moment it landed.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answered.

“Dinner on the house, if yer a mind for it? Tonight though,” she said.

“What happened?”

“Only the most insidious of dangers a lad might encounter in grade six,” she said.

The answer came to me in a flash of insight.  “Girls?”

“Aye.  And advice from an ancient aunt won’t cut it ye see,” she said.

“You’re not old,” I protested.

“I was speaking of Darci I was,” she said.  In the background I heard a protest from Darci.

“Need a male perspective, huh?”

“Yes, but not a Lothario’s,” she warned.

“I’m offended.  I date a bit, but I am highly respectful of the female species,” I said.

“More than jest a bit I’d say, but yer correct about the respect part so ye get the nod,” she said.

Another flash of insight.  She knew all about me – where I went, who I saw, what I did.  For a moment I was angry, then I thought of the awesome responsibility she held and how serious she was about it.  I was one of two people she trusted with not only her only living blood relative, but as she often reminded me, a young man of vast future importance.

“I’ll come right there.  Happen to have a new item for your expertise,” I said.

“Asian from the feel of it,” she said.  “Thank you, Levi,” she said and hung up.

She could feel my latest acquisition from twenty miles away.

It was a bit early for dinner.  My flight landed at three-thirty, and I only burned up an hour or so getting my stuff, my car and driving to Castlebury.  But this was the first time she’d ever called me for help.  I didn’t dawdle.

Inside the restaurant I found it mostly quiet, just two pairs of diners, either late lunches or early dinners.  There was no hostess on yet, still too early for either of the two high school girls that split the shifts.  But Ashling came right out of the kitchen almost as soon as I entered.  She waved for me to pick my own table while she poured me a pint of beer, likely something new on tap.

“Magic Hat number nine,” she said, grimacing at the title.  The beer was produced in Burlington although I think the original company had been sold.  “By popular request.”

By now I knew her well enough to know she would have avoided carrying the beer all this time simply because of the name.

I took a big sip, my travels and rush to get to Rowan West slipping away as I savored the beer.  She watched, nodding when she saw me relax.

“I was not trying to get ye in an accident,” she said.  “But I’ve been dreading these days since the lad started school.”

“What happened?”

“School announced a dance. Beyond that I don’t fully know,” she admitted.  Seeing as how closely she watched over him with what I suspected were frankly awesome powers it must have been hard for her to admit that.

“Young girls reach an age that can leave more than a few scars. Socially awkward, changing friends, dealing with the mean ones, bodies changing left and right,” she said.

“They’re further ahead than the boys, who are mostly clueless and more confused than they are,” I agreed.  “Where is he?”

“In back, washing dishes,” she said.  I must have given her some kind of accusatory look because she held up both hands.  “His choice, not mine.  Came in, dropped his bags and dove into the pots and pans like a boy possessed.”

“Why don’t I get a big platter of nachos and maybe an order each of stuffed mushrooms and poutine.  After a bit tell him I need his help with all that food.  And also tell him I brought him something from Hong Kong.”

She nodded. “Food is always a good approach.  I’ll toss him out as soon as the food is up.”

Fifteen minutes later she brought me the nachos and poutine.  Declan appeared at the kitchen doors as soon as she went back in.  He dried his hands on a cloth then tossed it over one shoulder when he spotted me.

“Help,” I said.

“Aunt Ash called you, didn’t she?” he asked, taking the chair across from mine.

I didn’t bother with denials.  He was young and in the throes of adolescence, but he was still a frighteningly sharp kid.  “She said you were upset about something.  Maybe the dance?” I asked.

He took a nacho and crunched it down, ignoring the jalapeno on top with the nonchalance of youth, frowning.  “Girls are weird,” he finally pronounced.

“I find them to be wonderful, but yes, they can be confusing to us simple males,” I said.   “Any special girls in class?”

He shrugged.  “Not for me.”

Three words, but they carried the weight of a mountain.

I nodded slowly.  “Yeah, okay,” I said, then took a bite of nacho followed by a sip of beer.  I munched and swallowed.  He fidgeted.

“Really?” he finally asked, his tone soft but I could hear the pain.

“You are a special kid.  You will need to have a special girl,” I said.

“But you’re special and you have lots of girls.”

“I date a number of women, but I haven’t found the woman yet.  A lot of my dates are just dates.  Some go further but none have resulted in finding the right one yet. And my special is much different than yours.”

“Are they that hard to find?” he asked.

“More like I’m that hard for a woman to settle for.  I travel all the time, own a weird bookstore and deal in strange stuff.  It’s going to take someone with infinite patience, a tolerance for the bizarre and a willingness to live in upstate Vermont.  Just haven’t found her yet.”

“It’s going to be even harder for me, isn’t it?” he asked.

“To find a special girl?  I don’t know, I kind of think they may find you. But that doesn’t make going to school with the girls in your class easier, does it?” I asked.

“Well, there are some okay girls I guess,” he allowed.

“Like your friend Jessica?” I asked.  That one held a special place in his heart, I knew for a fact.  Probably one of the most popular girls in Castlebury Middle school, smart and very pretty, but most importantly, kind.

“She’s better than okay, Levi,” he said.  “The only one who would talk to me after the… you know.”

“She still with Trey?”

He nodded.

“How does he treat her?”

He frowned.  “Nice to her face but I sometimes hear him saying stuff to his gang of idiots.”

“What happens then?” I asked.

“I fry all their phones,” he said, scooping some melted cheddar onto a chip.  He said it nonchalantly but from him it was a chilling statement.

“That all?” I asked.

“Yes, Levi,” he said in a put-upon tone.

“Just checking,” I said.  “I know she’s a good friend and you would protect her.”

“To the death,” he agreed, not looking up from his efforts to get as many fries on his fork as possible.

“Really?” I asked.

“Absolutely.  I won’t ever bail on a friend Levi,” he said, bringing his eyes up to meet mine.

“Good.  I would think less of you if you did,” I said, poking my own fork into the mountain of gravy and cheese covered fries.

“Trey stopped doing it after the second time,” he said.  “The others stopped even sooner.”

“They know it was you?”

“Everyone always suspects me of anything weird.  A big thunderstorm comes up and they all think I did a dance or something. Never mind that no one will ever get hit by lightning if I’m there.”

He slipped sometimes like that, although I think that was a big one.  I absolutely knew his aunt was a powerhouse, but despite every source I found telling me male witches were weak, I was pretty sure Declan was way more than either of them let on.  I attended each solstice and saw the rituals that they did. On the surface nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary for someone following the path of Wicca, but I caught many glimpses of her power and several of his.  On top of the electrical stuff, fire behaved very strangely around him, more than just the flame on the fingertip trick I’d seen him use to light candles. The flames of any candle near him or any campfire would sort of lean his way like dogs hoping to for a pat on the head.

But protecting kids from lightning strikes was an order of magnitude different.

“So you and Rory going to the dance?” I asked.

“Rory and Jonah want to go.  I don’t know if I will,” he said.

“No biggie, but you only get so many school dances in your life,” I said.  “Most boys won’t dance.  Girls will dance in groups and practice their social skills.  We guys tend to lag behind in those so watching what they do might help you understand.  They’re dealing with a ton of changes already, on their way to becoming women.”

“Like, you know, developing and stuff?” he asked.

“Exactly.  It’s hard on them.  They start to look and feel different, and people react to them in new ways.”

“Like the men who stare at the hostesses?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s part of it.”

“I make sure they just look,” he said eyes on the food.  “No creepers allowed.”

This way led to danger.  Declan had a major trigger, one that both aunts had taken care to clue me into.  He was the product of a rape and knew it.  Ashling told me he found it unforgiveable.  “He’s a good lad, keeping his head down and such, Levi.  But should he come across a man forcing himself upon a woman, I think it’ll be bad… very bad,” she’d said, a look of dread in her eyes.  Another of those slips.  I knew he’d fried a guy with electricity, but his aunt was the scariest witch I’d ever heard of, and she was worried about what the boy might do.

“That’s part of being a man,” I said.  “Part of being an adult human, but men have privilege in this world, and we need to use that to protect those without.”

He nodded at my words, munching more fries.  Then he nodded.  “Maybe I’ll go with those two clowns I hang around with,” he said.

“Oh, I brought you a hand drawn Chinese horoscope.  A dragon because you were born in a year of the Dragon,” I said.  I fished out the roll of rice paper with the gold and silver dragon and handed it to him.

“Thanks, this is great.  I’ll put it on the wall of my new room,” he said.

“Oh?”

“I’m moving to the shipping container.  Aunt Ash said I could.”

“Got your own place at thirteen?  Way to go.”

“Thanks Levi.  I should finish those pots because I have homework to get through,” he said standing up to go.

“Let me know if you need a hand with the container room,” I said.

“Okay, cool. Workout tomorrow night?”

“Yup, see you there.”

And with that he vanished back into the kitchen.

Chapter 7

I should have said that Declan has major triggers.  At least three, or some combination of the three.  Ashling and Darci told me about the rape thing.  At the time Ashling was super serious about that warning while her partner seemed a little less worried.  Which told me that Darci didn’t have enough information to support her nonchalance.  I mean we both knew he had fried a man with a battery, but that seemed like a thing of coincidence:  a charged car battery within six feet of the boy was unusual, right?  Wrong.

I should have guessed the second trigger myself; it was kind of blaringly obvious in hindsight, but I missed it.  How hard is it to imagine that a boy like him would have a fear of rejection?  All the pieces were right there; scary boy who fries man loses best friend, clings to small group of remaining friends, school population mostly avoids him, even some adults.  I had watched the Connors family interact with him and seen the wary light of something like fear in the mother’s eyes.  And the realization in Declan’s.  Luckily their two children were steadfast fans of Ashling’s boy.

But I digress.  It started one afternoon when I happened to be out at Rowan West, talking to Ashling about a very big acquisition that was coming up.  It would take me to France, likely Paris.  It promised to be dangerous too.  To that end I needed pointers and to let her know who to contact if I failed to come home.  She took me seriously, but after a bit of conversation, she relaxed.

“What is it?”

“Tis a feeling… a good one, Levi,” she said, patting my arm.

The door to the restaurant opened and a young couple came in, eyes wide, the woman smiling, the guy frowning in confusion.

“Uh oh?” Ashling said softly.

“Trouble?” I asked just as soft.

“I hope not,” she said, plastering a fake smile (at least to me) on her face as she moved to greet them.

“Welcome to Rowan West,” she said, “How can we be helping ye?”

“Oh, my,” the young woman said. Twenties, red hair, freckles, really white teeth.  “We were on our way through and just had to stop here for dinner.”

Ashling just raised both brows.

“The energy here is off the scale,” the woman said.

The male, also twenties, had dark hair, brown skin and deep brown eyes.  “Ma’am, what my associate means is that we’re part of paranormal research group, ghost hunters if you will,” he explaned.  “I’m Gatick Dhingra and this is Monica Flaherty.  White Mountain Paranormal Research.  I’m the tech guy and she’s a medium.”

“Oh, truly?” Ashling asked, massively impressed.  “It’s an honor to meet an honest to goodness channeler,” she gushed.

“Some people think it a burden and then there are folks like you who understand it to be a gift,” Monica said, preening a little.

Ashling nodded knowingly, then introduced both of us, before again asking what we could do for them.

“This place is truly fantastic with power,” the girl said, eyes wide with her own.  “We have a case not far from here, but needed to grab a bite and, well, this is such a wellspring, so I made Gatik pull over.  Do you have any paranormal happenings here?”

“Not a one dear, but that might be due to the very vibrations yer picking up.”

The door opened again and Darci came in.  After another round of introductions, Ashling herded the pair into her quarters, clearly not wanting this out in the open and clearly concerned. She asked a waitress to bring their dinners to the apartment.

After they ate, we settled back.

“I’ll make coffee,” I suggested, heading to the kitchen.

Declan came in from school, moving quietly, clearly aware something was up.

“Declan, come meet these nice folks,” Ashling said, her tone light but with a firm note under it.  Odd, why would she include him if she wanted to hide him.  She introduced them for the fourth time, and he greeted them, very politely for a young boy.

Explanations were given and Declan asked some rather adroit questions.

“You’re mediums?”

“Monica is,” Gatik said.  “Quite gifted, at that.”

She blushed and demurred, claiming that Ashling was her superior.  This was going badly.

It was Ashling’s turn to demure her skills, but the girl was having none of it.

“Hah.  I’m not buying that. My guides are just about genuflecting, when they’re coherent at all.”

“Oh, that’s probably the tree,” Declan said, casually.  Brilliant.

The young woman got very excited, talking about a vision of a tree.  Ashling offered to show it to them and almost simultaneously sent Declan to clean up his wood cutting tools before the rain came.  The boy took off like a fire was under his butt.

The three of us walked them out back, Ashling turning them toward the tree.  From the corner of my eye, I saw Declan run down to his woodlot, returning in moments with his old hand saw that was taller than him, and his splitting maul.  He ran into the barn like his life depended on it and only Darci and I noticed him, the others enraptured with the tree.  Darci drifted away with practiced stealth and headed into the barn.  The two researchers wouldn’t have noticed if she’d driven her patrol vehicle into the barn, being completely consumed in arboreal envy by the big tree.

After some time Darci and Declan came out, the deputy bland faced, the boy looking a teeny bit worried.

There was a bunch of exchanges between the researchers and Ashling, with some comments about thunderstorms and such by Declan, but I didn’t pay any attention to it.  My focus was on the sudden tension between Darci and Ashling.  It was very well hidden, but real.

The couple got on the road and as soon as they left Ashling turned to us.

“What’s all this about, then?” Ashling asked her girlfriend.

“I’m feeling a little in the dark, and I need some light to find my way.”

“Oh, is that it?  I told you when we started that there were things about us that ye shouldn’t know.”

My abilities are meager, just the barest remnants of family Sight.  But I can feel power, especially when it’s emanating from right next to me.  I looked at Declan and my alarms went off.  First, he was radiating more raw power than I had ever felt, anytime, anywhere.

Second, his expression was twisted into raw hurt and fear, his eyes darting between his aunt and her girlfriend.  Then anger flared but just as quickly it went back to fear and hurt.

“You good, lad?” Ashling asked, her attention instantly on the boy.

That’s when I noticed movement from the woodlot.  A massive figure burst out of the woods, a giant man in old clothes and he was marching on us like a movie terminator, but bigger, much bigger.

“Ah, not to interrupt, but what in Hells is that?” I asked, pointing at something I was increasingly certain was no man.

“Um, that’s on me,” Declan said, and he was off like a rocket, running straight for the monster.

The boy is fast, he slipped past his aunt and her deputy like a running back.  But I was still faster, and I caught him at an uncomfortably close distance to something seven feet tall that had no face.

He didn’t fight me, instead yelling, “Robbie, stop!”

It was a clear command and the giant stopped in midstride.

“What have ye done, boy?” His aunt asked, fear in her voice.

“Um, well, I was having trouble hauling wood and we don’t have a tractor, so I made Robbie.  He’s just a giant dirt dude,” Declan said.

“He’s not even close to that, boy,” Ashling said.

“He looks like a golem,” I said, my own fear rising.

Declan dropped his weight, rolled forward and escaped my grasp, jumping forward only to turn with his back to the monster.

“He’s like Draco is all,” Declan said, his tone clearly worried.

Ashling didn’t answer right away, instead stepping forward, reaching one finger to touch the giant who straightened up like a soldier at attention.

She took a fast breath.    “Oh lad, he’s more like Draco than ye know.”  She was very concerned.

“Well, maybe a little, but he’s just my helper.”

The wheels of thought were about grinding a hole in Ashling’s head as she considered what had to be the most fantastic event of my life.  Then she told him to put it away and with a simple sentence he sent what I was sure was a golem back into the woods.

Ashling took everyone inside and sat us down, her expression closed.

“Okay, what do ye want to know?”

Darci was at a complete loss, but I had my question ready.

“Was that a golem?” I asked.

“I don’t believe so.  I’m not an expert on Hebrew magic systems, but I think both the giant and the dragon are something much different.”

Darci didn’t think too much of that, exploding into angry accusations of negligent supervision of Declan.  Ashling took it quietly, but she seemed resolved.  Then she admitted something I had long thought.  That she and her nephew were far from ordinary witches.  That she and her sister were the prized products of five centuries of careful breeding among the strongest witches in Ireland. That they’d been betrayed and then assaulted.

“Rape Aunt Ash, the word is rape,” Declan said in a tone so hard I didn’t recognize it.

“Quiet you,” she said, and he did.

She explained that Declan was the result and that he was more powerful than any male witch ever.  That he Crafted magic instinctively at a genius level or beyond, as shown by the giant and a toy dragon.  In the following conversation I realized that second trigger.  He’d been terrified, completely and utterly terrified that Darci was going to leave Ashling, that he was the cause, that he would be the cause of her rejection.

Darci wasn’t having it.  She firmly took him to task for trying to tell her how she felt and what she was going to do.

“So why would I run now?”

“Because it’s worse than you think.  I’m worse than you think,” he said, defiantly afraid.

Darci stood firm, so he looked at his aunt.  She nodded.  “Take it outside to the barn, lad.  That medium isn’t far enough away yet.”

We entered the barn and the first thing I noticed was the wood.  Stacks and stacks of cordwood, filling the whole front of the barn.  Exactly even in height at five feet, but probably ten full cords of wood. I was shocked.  Ashling didn’t notice, Darci was focused on following the boy to the back where he had a little game thing set up, but I was floored.

It wasn’t a little anything.  It turned out to be a miniature world of mountains, running rivers, clouds and forests… and a mini dragon that hunted his little clay robots with fire breathing fury, but greeted the boy like a cat with its favored human.  In the next fifteen minutes I learned about recycled energy, spells like computer programs and that the boy I beat on with padded gloves could burn a sixteen-inch log to complete ash in less than a minute.  That Ashling could redirect smoke with the twitch of a finger.  But it was me who pointed out why he’d felt the need to make the golem-like giant.  Ashling had never realized the efforts a teen boy would have to go through to collect that much wood without power saws and hauling equipment, and without magic. In the end she promised him a little tractor and chainsaw, but only if I taught and supervised him.  His expression when he realized that neither Darci nor I were going anywhere about broke my heart.  She sent him out of the barn to put his monstrous giant to bed, clearly not afraid for him.  That told me that she either had that much faith in his teen-aged spell work or that the boy had so much power that even a thing like that couldn’t threaten him.  I don’t know which.

When he was gone, she explained more.  She talked about the Threefold Rule, about the fickle whims of the universe and about a much, much higher calling for the kid.  Like world saving type stuff.  Oh, and that we three were all that he had to guide him.  No pressure.

Two days later, the prized book I had been talking to Ashling about at the beginning of this whole thing finally made its appearance, in Paris, and within hours I was booked on a flight, packed and ready to go.

Just before I left my shop for the airport, the door jingled, and I silently cursed last minute customers with horrible timing.  But it was Declan.

“What’s up, buddy?” I asked.

“Aunt Ash said you have to take a trip.  Said it was dangerous?” he asked, head tilted slightly.

“Maybe some,” I said.

He shook his head.  “Lots.  She said so.  So, I made you this.”  He held up a leather necklace with a round of carved wood suspended on it from a hole through the center of the disc.  “I’ve made others, mostly for her and one for Darci.  I get a little better every time.”  He handed it to me.

“What, ah, does it do?” I asked.

“All kinds of things.  Protective things.  You need to wear it and not take it off,” he ordered, his eyebrows lowered, the expression dead on for his aunt’s, complete with index finger pointed at me.

“Okay, cool.  It won’t set off the metal detectors so it should be good.”

“I don’t think you can set off the TSA stuff while you wear it.  It won’t allow that.  It will hide you when you need it, it will make attacks miss you, it will blur every camera anywhere near you.”

“Shit, even James Bond doesn’t have one of these,” I said, impressed, but torn on whether it could really do all that.

“Well, that’s how I think about what you do… like a James Bond of books.”

“That makes you my Q,” I said.

“Cool. Give it a good test.”

Turns out that I did but that’s for next time.  Oh, and his third trigger?  Bullies.  That’s for another time too.

Chapter 8

“So, what do you do?”

We were twenty minutes into a seven- hour flight out of Logan Airport to Paris and my fellow passenger was already bored.  It was an overnighter, and at Ashling and Darci’s urging, I was flying First Class for the first time.  Loving it… till now.

“I own a small bookstore,” I said.

He grinned, nodding his head like he was sure it was a joke.  “What about you?” I countered, which in hindsight was a huge mistake.

“Wait… you mean it?” he asked.  He was late fifties, maybe sixty, but well dressed in light linen slacks, a white button-down shirt without a tie and a matching light linen blazer.

“I do.”

“And you do… okay with it?” he said, looking me over.  I was wearing one of my Gray Man outfits, which had no actual gray in it.  Dark high-quality jeans, a dark very lightweight v-neck pullover and black leather loafers, all previously purchased in Europe.  It helps me fit in, blend in.

“Everybody loves books,” I said.

“Ha, they love cheap books.  Amazon is gonna eat your lunch,” he crowed like the oracle of business.

“We don’t sell the same things,” I said.

“They sell everything.”

“You never told me what you do?” I said, going double down on my mistake.

A smug superior look came over his face.  “Futurist,” he said, then took in a breath in preparation to explain to the bookish guy what that was.  I beat him to it.

“Ah, one of those.  Any accuracy?” I asked, very dubious.

“At least fifty percent over five years,” he said, leaning forward and daring me to call him on it.

“Not bad.  My friend is a type of futurist too.  About seventy percent over ten years.” That was all crap because I was dead sure her accuracy was way higher than that.

“Bullshit!  Who is he?” he demanded.  Too easy.

“She, not he.  And that’s a secret.  She’s very exclusive, available to only a select few.”

“You’re making that up,” he said.  “Without a name I call bullshit.”

“Okay,” I said with an easy unconcerned smile.  Then I pushed my seat to the back most position and closed my eyes.  “Goodnight.”

He was silent, his bluster and curiosity almost palpable, thrown a bit off his guard.  Enough to keep him silent for two whole minutes.  As an ex-soldier I only need about half that time to be out cold.

I slept soundly right up until the attendant started asking about dinner.  Besides sleep, food is important to soldiers.  I popped up, wide awake and ordered the beef Wellington with a Cabernet Sauvignon.  The male attendant was fast and efficient, my dinner arriving fast.  I ate it slowly but steadily, savoring the excellent meal along with the surprisingly good wine.

My row partner had questioned the attendant extensively about the food, acting like he was a connoisseur.

The Air France attendant was trying to be patient.  Just to be an ass, I waited till Mr. Future had finished, then complimented the attendant on the meal and the wine, in French.  Take that futurist.

As soon as my meal was done, I turned off my brain and stayed asleep till we started to descend into France.

It was early morning, and I could just make out the city’s glow at the very most forward edge of my window if I scrunched my head up against the glass just right.

We landed and deplaned, those with luggage having to pick it up, those of us with just carry-ons heading straight to customs.  I like arriving in the morning as it sometimes helps with shorter lines at customs.  Not today, as hordes of tired passengers milled about, the French agents seemingly watchful and tense.  I prepared my answers on my entry form and was confident.  But the degree of questioning my fellow passengers were facing seemed extreme.

I prepared myself for a long wait as the lines grew even longer.  Suddenly a stern looking agent came alongside me and unhooked the sheeple rope, moving it across right in front of me.  “Starting with you,” he said, eyes on me, “use these four gates,” he said waving at previously closed custom booths.

Just that fast I was at the front of the line.  I stepped up, handed my passport and customs form to the agent.  He didn’t even look at me.  Just ran the passport through his scanner, handed it back and waved me through.  No questions, no delay, nothing. Everyone else was getting the third degree.

Stunned but not about to question my luck, I tossed off a quick “Merci,” moving smoothly past him, then past the other successful entrants, past sleepy looking families, couples and tour groups. Outside, taxis lined the curb, and I took the first in line.

You probably think I do most of my retrieval work in dusty old, hidden-away bookstores, tucked down back alleys.  In fact, most rare books come from private collections, either when the owner dies or when they simply want to raise funds for something new.   I’m often meeting with attorneys, accountants and personal representatives, rather than book sellers.

Today I was to meet with the personal representative of an anonymous collector.  I had my suspicions of his identity, but that wasn’t as important as the fact that this young woman had contacted me to broker a sale of what was reputed to be the personal grimoire of Madelyn Arnaud, who had lived in the late fifteen-hundreds. Arnaud had never been accused of witchcraft for the very good reason that she was one.  A total of three witch hunters who nosed around her village died of either heart attacks in the case of two, or sudden bleeding on the brain for the third.  Witch hunters stopped visiting and no one in her town was stupid enough to make any accusations.  In fact, Madelyn Arnaud was hugely popular for her medicinal and love tonics, including one that was guaranteed to give any man increased virility.

Her Book of Shadows was purportedly in the hands of a collector of occult and arcane literature, here in France, at least according to Darcy Cloutier, the aforementioned personal rep.  She had reached out to me via old fashioned snail mail, claiming to have possession of the book as well as the authority to engage me for its sale.  I did my due diligence on Darcy, and she had a long history as a successful personal representative to some very wealthy people, representing up to four at once.  Then she had gone off the market, turning exclusive to her current employer, who was unknown.

I needed to meet her, verify the book was the real deal, win the contract, and safely extract the book from France so that I could sell it internationally.  If I was caught taking it out of France, I’d be in trouble as it was likely considered cultural property forbidden from export.

Our meeting was set for one PM at a small café in the seventh arrondissement.  I gave the taxi driver the address of another café two streets further over where I could get a breakfast pastry and an espresso and regroup.

Traffic, both foot and street, was just beginning to pick up, and my chosen café was busy but there was plenty of room for a single diner.

After paying my fare, I walked past the meeting place, circled the block and came back to it, ready to set up shop.

Munching a croissant so light it was in danger of floating away, I texted Ashling.  Despite the late hour back home, like one AM, she’d insisted I do so.  This was my first acquisition at this level, and she’d played a huge part in getting me here.

Levi – Landed.  Flight fine.  Wondering again about verification.

After a minute I saw the blinking stars on my screen and then:

Ash – Good on you then.  I spoke to the lad.  He told me what he gave you. You have no idea.

Levi – He said it would protect me somehow.

Ash – Ha. That it will.  And so much more.  Forget all we talked about of using your own sensitivity.  The thing the boy made you will let you know.  Just hold the book near to his gift.

Levi – It’s that good?

Ash – It’s worth more than the book. Now time for my own bed.  Good luck and safe travels.

Declan had given me disc of wood an inch in diameter, carved intricately, and strung on leather cord.  Surprisingly elegant and cleanly carved but still a simple artifact.  And she said it was more valuable than a four-hundred-year-old grimoire.  I was floored, because Ashling O’Carroll would certainly know the value, monetarily speaking, of each.

I pulled the amulet from under my pullover and studied it while sipping espresso.  When Declan gave it to me, time had been short to get to the airport, so there hadn’t had an opportunity to more than glance at it.  Now my inspection was slow and careful, and revealing.  The little disc of wood, Rowan for sure, had been carved with symbols and runes, then oiled and polished till it seemed to glow.  I cupped my hands around it, making a dark cave.  No, it actually glowed, a warm golden hue, very low but there was a definite illumination.  Next, I reached into my new messenger bag, which was also my carryon.  It was all leather and very stylish, much more so than the old canvas IDF army one that I had gifted to Declan.  Inside, besides a change of clothes, a tiny toiletry kit, a phone charger, various pens, pencils and note pads, there was a good quality magnifying glass.  The expanded view of that disc was astonishing.  The runic codes and symbols had been etched in at a tiny size, so small it looked like just artistic pattern, not magic language coding out a complex artifact. And it was etched front, back, on both the outside edge and the tiny inside edge of the hole the leather went through. There had to be hundreds, maybe even a thousand runes and symbols on this piece of the O’Carroll family tree.

I tried to recall what the boy had said:

I don’t think you can set off the TSA stuff while you wear it.  It won’t allow that.  It will hide you when you need it, it will make attacks miss you, it will blur every camera anywhere near you.

It won’t allow that.  Like it had a brain?

At that moment, sitting in a trendy little restaurant in Paris, I made the decision to stop being surprised by Declan O’Carroll.  Set no expectations for his abilities and avoid massive shocks to my worldview.   Starting today, starting now.

My breakfast was done, and I had sat for too many long hours on a plane.  It was time to move.

I learned a long time ago, that Mr. Murphy is always nearby, ready to lend his horrible luck to any operation.  Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. Therefore, you must prepare for all the worst things to happen, which keeps you from freezing up when they do. In today’s world that can mean terrorist attacks, political unrest, severe weather, criminal action, and for my work, book thieves.

Leaving the café, I began to scout the surroundings, looking for potential sniper spots, choke points, suspicious people, alternate routes of egress, potential problems like labor rallies or protest marches.  Anything that could be disruptive.  I started a few blocks out, moving in a somewhat random pattern that would still cover the entire meeting area.  Circling closer and closer till the actual café where we would meet came into sight.  There was still an hour till Ms. Cloutier showed, plenty of time for another sweep.   Two things caught my eye on that last go round.  A panel van was parked at the curb, maybe sixty yards from the outdoor dining area of the café.  It was a commercial model with the name of a property management company on the side panels. Nobody was sitting in the driver or passenger seats.  No biggie, in general, but something to watch.

The second thing was a black Mercedes sedan, which pulled up and discharged a single white male in a black business suit.  The car then pulled away, leaving the man to plunk down his attaché case at the one table that allowed an individual to sit with his or her back protected by a solid wall.  In short, the table I had been planning on taking in the next few minutes.  Most likely just me being too slow to grab a prime spot in a busy restaurant.  But each of those additions to my area of operations had been noted and slated for observation.

The waiter led me to a pretty good second table option that let me observe a large slice of the street, including the van, while leaving my back protected against a half wall that delineated the restaurant’s dining area.

I ordered two bottled waters and waited and watched.  At five of one a leggy blonde in a stunning summer dress walked up, male heads (and a few female ones) turning to watch, as did I.  Warm, intelligent brown eyes scanned the crowd, ignoring the hopefuls until they fell on me.  Recognition lit her features, and she came straight to my table.  I stood.

“Levi?” she asked in a delightful voice.

“At your service.  Darcy, I presume,” I said.  The waiter was right there to get her chair, his eyes just as hopeful at the others.  “We can speak French if you prefer,” I offered, using French to prove I could.

“No, no,” she shook her head quite firmly.  “I can use the practice honing my English.”

There didn’t seem to be any trouble with her English but who was I to argue.  Both seated and sipping our water, I suggested we look at the menus and order, as French meals run long and slow.

“Very American of you,” she said with a smirk.

“True. We all seem to carry a loud clock in our heads,” I said, which made her laugh.

After a few minutes of studying the menus we both placed an order before settling back.  I’d like to explain in mouthwatering detail what I ordered, but to tell you the truth, I was finding myself more than a little distracted by the force of her attractiveness.  No single feature stood out, but the complete blend was a bit stunning.  Not that I stared or drooled.  I just had lost my concentration… until my chest buzzed.  The amulet, not flesh and blood Levi.  Just a light vibration, but it caught my attention, my eyes leaving hers and glancing at her shoulder bag on the ground next to her.

“You brought it?” I asked, surprised.  “I didn’t expect that.”  Then I realized that I had no basis for saying that.  A tricky piece of wood buzzes and I infer the presence of the Arnaud Book of Shadows.  But if I was surprised, she was floored.  She leaned forward, a warm wave of perfume preceding her.  “You can sense it?” she asked, clearly shocked.

“I have the means to, yes,” I said.

“Then I suppose there is no point in handing you the decoy book to see if you can tell whether or not it is the real deal,” she said, slipping into French.

“You must do whatever you deem important to protect your client’s property,” I said, in English.  “What questions do you have for me?”

She studied me for a moment, and I think she might have been a little impressed.  Before she could come up with a question, the amulet buzzed again.  An angry buzz, a warning buzz.  I looked up and met the eyes of the businessman who shared my love of strategic seating.  He snapped his eyes away, but the damage was done.

“I believe that at least one person here is aware of your identity and what you carry,” I said.  “We need to get you out of here with your client’s property intact.”

She didn’t react, instead she was watching me carefully, like I myself might be a book to read.  After a moment she shared her thoughts.  “Part of my personal skill set is an ability to make almost instant judgements of character, Levi.  Part of what my client pays me for.  I am satisfied.  You are hired.  Please transport the item to wherever you deem best to obtain the highest bid on it.  You may take such bids as soon as you think best.  You will share them with me, I will pass them on to my client and he will decide which, if any, to accept,” she said, in a formal tone.

“You are decisive,” I said, glancing back at the watcher.  He was gone.  A look at the van on the street revealed that it too had left.  Rather than reassure me that left me more concerned.

Lunch arrived and we ate, taking our time in the European manner, but we did talk a little about the bare minimum offers that might be acceptable.  Ashling had predicted a low-end number of $420,000 and she came within a few thousand of the number Darcy mentioned.  Which made me remember what she’d said about Declan’s gift.  She knew the values and said the unassuming piece of wood under my shirt was worth more.

“Is this within the realm of the possible?” she asked.

“There will be a bidding war, one that begins with that number but climbs much higher,” I said.  “Now I just need to get it safely out of France.”

“You anticipate problems?” she asked.  My amulet vibrated.

“Yes, some,” I said.  “I will get a taxi and catch the next flight back.”

“Nonsense, I will give you a ride.  My car is just over there,” she said, waving her hand in a general direction but keeping her eyes locked on mine.

Part of me, the cold combat operative, had been thinking the rush of men toward my vacant chair would have been an excellent distraction, but another part of me thought it was an excellent idea.  I paid our bill, and we left the restaurant, my head on swivels looking for threats while other eyes around us watched her.

She led me to a new model BMW sedan in dark blue, waving me around to the passenger side.  Instead, I held her door for her, eyes watching everywhere around us, closing the door when she was fully inside.  Only then did I get in the other door. That’s how I was trained.

“You act more like a bodyguard than a book buyer,” she said, staring at me.  I was pretty sure she was expecting me to act like most men she ran across, the ogling, hormone crazed collectors of female virtue.

“That’s actually a fair assessment. I’m ex-military and you are my client, carrying the item you will entrust to me. This book is very valuable, both monetarily but maybe even more so to a true practitioner of the Craft.”

“A witch?” she asked, astonished.  “You believe in real witches?” she asked.  Her tone wasn’t derogatory, just curious.

“I work with some of the best in the world,” I said.  “We should get going,” I suggested, the hair on my neck stirring.

She pulled away from the curb without seeming to look, slamming us into crazy Parisian traffic.  The amulet gave a soft buzz of approval.  “Tell me about them?” she asked.  “Old crones with warty noses?” she joked.

“Younger, almost as attractive as you,” I said.  She glanced at me, and I read something in her eyes.  “And she’d be as interested in you as I am,” I said, eyes scanning around us. “Although her partner would object, and she carries a gun.”

“A witch with a gun?”

“No, a cop with a gun.”

“Oh, but you said there was more than one?”

“I cannot speak of the other,” I said.

“You are a fascinating man, Levi Guildersleeve,” she said.  “Will either of your witches be bidding on the book?”

“No.  I’m afraid it’s not their cup of tea.”

“Too advanced?”

“More school primer than college text,” I answered.  The amulet buzzed a warning and I spun around just as the white panel van came out of a side street, getting into the traffic three cars behind us.  The amulet buzzed again, and my eyes shot to a parking garage.  It went against everything I understood about tactics to hide in a dead-end building, but this thing was like a part of me and I was running on instinct.

“Turn into that garage,” I said, pointing.

She looked at me like I was insane but complied.

Just inside the entrance the amulet thrummed.  “Wait, back into that spot right there,” I said, pointing at an open spot just four spaces into the building.

She expertly reversed into the slot and turned to me eyes wide.  “Turn off your ignition.”

She did.  Seconds later the van drove in, slow, two men scanning the cars on either side.  They looked right at us, but no light dawned on either face.  The van crept onward and upward.

The amulet buzzed a happy little buzz.

“Okay, we can go.”

She took off and there were no other issues the rest of the trip to Charles De Gaulle airport.  Just a ton of questions.

“That was like James Bond,” she said.  “This has been perhaps the most exciting business meeting I have ever had.”

“I prefer less exciting, especially when my client’s life and property is at risk.”

“Will I be at continued risk?”

“I don’t think so.  They want the book.  When I leave, they have no reason to go after you.  But you should always be alert.  I am sorry that men are what we are.”

“Some men,” she said, her shifting hand moving to my knee to reassure me.  And set my heart into overdrive.  “But it is a wrong thing, no?  That women are at threat just for looking good?”

“It is.  My associates would more than agree with you.”

“Well, we’ve arrived,” she said.  “Dammit.”  The car paused at the curb.

“If it is any consolation I agree.  But when I do sell the book, I will be bringing the check here in person, so…?”

Her dark brown eyes met mine and she smiled, leaning over to kiss me. I expected a peck on the cheek, but it was full on the lips, slow, languid, and full of promise.

“How am I to leave now?” I asked.  She laughed, handing me a wrapped package that made my skin tingle and the amulet vibrate at high speed.  Then she waved me out of her car.

The cops who should have demanded she not loiter, instead gave me nods of envy and her smiles.

I was already in the customs line when it occurred to me that this might get sticky.  But again, my passport was barely scanned before I was waved through without a single question.  There are always questions, sometimes easy, sometimes hard, but always at least one.  But not on this trip.

The return flight departed on time, two hours later.  The flight was uneventful, the food excellent and we got into Logan airport in the wee dark hours.  For the third time, I had not a single question from customs.  And to this day I never have.

The book sold for a $560,000, I delivered the grimoire personally to its new owner and then the check to Darcy in Paris, even more personally.  I had just leveled up, I was in the big leagues now.

Chapter 9

“What happened?” I asked Darci as soon as I got to Rowan West.

“New kid in school.  Big kid, state champion wrestler for his age group, also said to be a gifted amateur boxer.  Somehow, they got into it.  Ashling got called in.”

“Who is this kid?” I asked, helping myself to coffee from the pot they keep fresh in the kitchen.

“Magnus Robbins.  I know his father, Max Robbins.  Vermont State Police, former golden gloves regional champion.  A real asshole.”

I had enough time to pull up both names on my smart phone before I heard Ashling’s Prius pull into the lot.  Two car doors slammed, one after the other, and then the residence door opened.  Ashling came in first and held the door for a hooded, head down Declan.  He turned and headed to his old room; as the shipping container was not quite ready for his habitation. Or maybe it was his aunt who wasn’t ready?

I poured Ashling a cup of coffee, added enough creamer to make a pound of cheese and a spoonful of sugar.

She sat down, clearly upset, nodding her thanks at what was essentially a cup of her own coffee.

“First day of school for this Magnus,” Ashling said.  “Immediately gets caught in Trey’s coat tails he does.  Trey starts telling him all about Declan taking some secret martial art only taught to spies.  Says he’s the toughest kid in school.  Somehow, he confronts Declan.  Punches were thrown, lots of punches, most into my lad’s head, and then this monstrous big kid goes flying across the room. Starts saying he got tasered.  Principal has suspended me boy… my boy because he knows Darci carries a taser.  I got all that from Rory Tessing’s mum.  Declan won’t speak a word.”

“Let me talk to him,” I said.  She looked at me, weary and worried, and then just nodded.

“Here, have him put this on his shiner.”  She tossed me a plain cotton bag, about big enough to hold a deck of cards.

Down the hall the door was closed.  Just a plain door, no name tags, no handwritten signs, no warnings to keep out.  There was no response to my knock, and no answer to my request “Can I come in?”

I took the lack of a no as a yes.  Carefully I opened the door and peeked through.  Common sense when the distraught teen you are approaching is a witch.  He was on his bed, ankles crossed, arms behind his head, staring at the map of the world that he had pinned to his ceiling.

“That bad?” I asked.  His eyes jerked to me, and I nodded at the ceiling map.  He looked back up which was good because it allowed me to hide my reaction to his rapidly swelling black eye. He looked back at his escape map, as he called it, then back at me, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to run, Levi. I’m so damn mad I want to make that kid eat a full patty of cow shit.”

Since he was a witch and since this was Vermont, he had both the ability and the supplies necessary to make that happen.

“I heard Trey was involved?”

“Of course.  This new douche wouldn’t have known me from Adam, but Trey started telling him I was this big deal in Israeli death fighting, as he called it.  Made it sound like I was part Mossad and part ninja.”

We had discussed the Isreali intelligence agency along with the one I had done a little field work for, Aman, which was military intelligence, as well as Shen Bet, which handles state internal security.

“What did you say?”

“I laughed and told the truth, that I had less than a year of training. Trey said I was lying, that I had been learning it since I could walk.  Said that Magnus would be crazy to fight me.”

“Did you try to walk away?”

“Several times.  Levi, this kid was as big as you, maybe bigger. He hit me so fast I couldn’t see the punches coming.”

“Is that what gave you the shiner?  Oh, your aunt wants you to put this on it,” I said, tossing him the healing poppet.

“Yeah, the third one, I think.”

“He punched you three times?” I asked, sitting on the side of his bed.

“Five.  I blocked a couple.  But the rest came through my blocks or around them or something like that.  Levi, I almost went out… cold. He hits harder than you do.  Everything was spinning and I didn’t know up from down and so I just… reacted.”

“Tell me about that.”

“I grabbed at his arms or tried to.  I touched him at least.  And I shocked him.  Levi, I’m not going unconscious again, not ever.”

“What do I always tell you about opponents?”

“There is always someone bigger, stronger, better, better trained, smarter, tougher, more dangerous.”

“Exactly.  You did what all your training told you too.  How bad was the kid hurt?”

“He wasn’t… not really.  It was just a zap, but you’d have thought I stuck him with a live wire.  He backed right off and started swearing and then the teachers were finally there.  First thing he says is that I tasered him.  Principal Pelkey got all scared, especially when the kid says his dad is a police lieutenant and he’s gonna have us all arrested.”

“Hmm, and what did you tell Pelkey?”

“The truth – that Trey’s an ass, that this kid is some massive bully asshat and how the hell would I have a Taser?  He was all scared, Pelkey that is.  Started in on Aunt Ash, but ah, didn’t get real far with that.  She handed him his head.  I’m still suspended though.”

“And angry,” I stated.  He nodded.

“Any marks on the kid?” I asked.

He shook his head.  “Just a little zing to get him away.  The next one though, that one was gonna be a road buckler.”

“Who saw this altercation?”

“Trey, Jessica, some of their crew, couple of other kids I think.”

“Anyone see the second bolt you were working up?”

He shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  I had my hand behind my leg, and I was trying to stand upright.”

“That thing take the pain away?” I asked.  He nodded.  “Okay, give it back.  And sit up, I want some photos.”  I snapped a series of photos with my smart phone and took the healing bag back.  “Okay, get some rest, we’ll work on this,” I said, giving him a pat on his shoulder.  “Oh, and if you didn’t know before, you know now… don’t go toe-to-toe with a trained boxer.”

“No shit Levi.  It was more like toe-to-floor.”

I closed his door and headed back out to the living room.

The ladies looked up from their conversation, questions in both pairs of eyes.

“Classic Trey Johnson.  Manipulated this kid from the word go.  Spun him up and sent him after Declan like a guided missile.  Declan got hit hard and fast by a very well-trained boxer.  He almost got knocked out.  That’s what made him zap the boy.  But it was just a little zing, enough to get distance.  I think the next moment or two after that might have been tragic, but the teachers got there.  Then this Magnus began to throw his dad’s weight around and the principal got all worried.”

“He should be worried, the stupid shite.  Started some talk of tasers and I ripped him a new one.  Implying that my partner didn’t secure her equipment, that Declan was carrying weapons on school grounds, can ye imagine?”

“Here’s your healing thingy.  It took the pain away, but I didn’t want Declan to heal all up.  I took photos and I think we should take him to UVM hospital for a workup.”

Ashling started to protest, but Darci held her arm, her eyes on mine, nodding slowly.  “He’s right, we need to document the damage.”

“Yer preparing a case?” Ashling asked, incredulous.

“Yes.  Cop’s son.  A claim of weapons used.  We need to treat this very seriously,” I said.

“I’m going to call Colonel Brasher,” Darci said suddenly.  I raised my eyebrows at her.  “Head of the VSP.”

“And you know him well enough to call him?” I asked.

“Sure, he calls me anytime he needs something desperately.  Like say the location of the Governor’s lost wife and teen daughter when hiking in the Green mountains, or those three prison transportees that got free and ran off into the woods.”

I looked from her to Ashling who just shrugged.  “The goddess favors witches that use their abilities for good purposes, she does,” she said.

“What about those of us who just want to hurt people,” Declan asked quietly from the hallway arch.

Ashling was on him like a mother lion gathering in her cub.  “Oh, look at your poor face,” she said as she hugged him.

“Yeah, well you should see his fists.  All bruised and probably almost sore,” he said in a rueful voice.

“You want to hurt him bad, don’t you?” I asked.  Ashling shot me a glare, but I ignored it.  Some boils need to be lanced fast.  “I know I would.”

“You would?” he asked, eyes on me.  Ashling started to say something, but Darci caught her eye and shook her head a little.

“Absolutely.  Every guy I know would.  I got jumped by three guys during basic training.  Seems my mouth got the training platoon in trouble, and we all had to march extra miles.  They administered what’s sometimes called a blanket party.  Threw a blanket over me, then beat me black and blue.  I figured out who did it, spent hours planning my revenge.”

“Did you get it?  Your revenge?”

“No, training ended before I could set it up.  But one of them later died right next to me.  Firefight in the desert.  He took a bullet that would have hit me except it hit him first.  I dragged him to the medic, but he died while I was carrying him.”

“Oh,” Declan said.

“Yeah, sorta made the concept of getting even lose its luster.”

He looked at me thoughtfully then at the ground.  “Were you angry?”

“At the guys that beat me?  Furious.  I did, eventually, realize why they did it.  I’ve seen it a thousand times since. Instructors call it the law of the pack.  And like I said, my anger diminished as time went by.   I really didn’t like to see my fellow soldier die.”

“Well, it’s easier to see why those guys did that.  I don’t understand why Magnus would pick a fight the first day with a guy who didn’t want to fight?”

“Don’t you?  It’s a lot like Trey’s situation,” I said.

“His father?”

“Most likely.  Trey has to be a big shot… his father expects it.  Magnus needs to be the toughest fighter… because his father expects it.”

He didn’t say anything, but he nodded.  Then he asked his aunt if he could have ice cream from the restaurant.  The answer was, of course, yes.

The next day Ashling took him to the University Hospital in Burlington, had x-rays taken although she already knew he wasn’t concussed or had any bone fractures.  Air witches are apparently very solid healers.  But the injuries were documented, and she presented that information to Principal Pelkey when she met with him later.  He had no evidence of Declan possessing any kind of stun gun or taser, and several kids had seen Magnus punch Declan without provocation.   After a day of suspension, Declan went back to school. Magnus was still suspended though, a fact that resulted in my introduction to Max Robbins.

I was working in the store when a Vermont State Police cruiser pulled up out front.  The guy who unfolded from inside it was a monster, at least six foot-seven and close to three hundred pounds easy.  He had the broken nose of a brawler, salt and pepper hair, and a bushy mustache. He also wore a serious hard ass expression as he looked around.  Then he came inside.

“Officer Robbins,” I said.

“You Guildersleeve?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“You’re the one who teaches that fancy dojo crap?”

“What do you want Trooper?” I asked.  He walked up to the counter, looming over me.

“My kid is on suspension on account of that kid that you teach. His aunt won’t talk to me.”

“And your Colonel told you to leave her the hell alone, right?”

He frowned.  “That’s a bunch of bullshit right there.  He shouldn’t side with some foreign woman over me.”

“But that foreign woman finds lost hikers, missing kids, escaped convicts and the Governor’s family,” I said.

“Bullshit.  Bunch of psychic crap.  What I want is for you to tell that principal how the kid snuck a stun gun into school.”

“What I want is for you to get the hell out of my store,” I said.

“You think that Israeli shit’s gonna help you?” he said, sneering at me.

“I think you’re being recorded by security cameras, threatening me.  That can’t be a good look for a guy who is bucking for promotion to Captain can it?”

He frowned.

“Yeah, we know all about why you requested to be stationed up here.  The colonel explained it clearly.  Only now your kid beats up another kid on his first day in class, and you come in here threatening me… on camera.”

He looked up at the camera in the corner, then swiveled to take notice of the camera in the other corner.  Without a word he turned and left.  Sat in his cruiser for a while, talking on his cell phone, staring at me the whole time.  Finally, he drove away.

I’ve met more than a few of his kind before.  The grown-up bully who uses a badge or position of rank to shield his behavior.  Tricky.  He was huge and from all reports, a highly skilled boxer. I absolutely didn’t want to fight him.  All things being equal, like in training and experience, a bigger fighter will usually beat a smaller fighter.  That’s why combat sports have weight classes.  His kid had the same advantages over Declan, although just physical advantages.  Which made this situation an absolute minefield.

I closed shop a bit early and headed out to Rowan West.  A trooper’s car pulled up behind me as I got out of town.  I knew this drill, so I sped up, going well over the speed limit.  The trooper’s lights came on, but I pushed it a bit further, only pulling over when I was right in front of Rowan West.  I also made a phone call or two.

It was, of course, Max Robbins who climbed out of the car and strode toward me.  “Get out of the vehicle,” he said, then lifted his head to look at the restaurant.  Ashling was standing outside, her cell phone held high and pointed right at us.  The big cop frowned at her.  “Get back inside,” he ordered her.  The door to the restaurant opened and Declan came out, moving up by his aunt.

“That the kid?” Robbins asked me. Without waiting for an answer which wasn’t coming, he headed right for the pair.  I got out fast and followed, my own phone on record.  I saw Ashling, unafraid, stare right back at the uniformed giant.  I also saw Declan’s eyes go from wide and alarmed, to focused and hard.

“Yer on my property,” Ashling said.

“Conducting police business, which you’re interfering with.”

“No, yer harassing us, which is a violation of yer own policies.  There’ll be no chance of a promotion for ye.  Sheriff’s department is on its way.”

Robbins strode right up to them, pushing right into their personal space.  Ashling was calm and collected.  Declan was riding a hair-trigger.

“I heard all that psychic bullshit from the local station.  You’ve fooled quite a few, Ms. O’Carroll, with your mumbo jumbo and maybe even your legal status, but you haven’t fooled me.  Got friends in ICE.  They’re looking into your status right now.”

“Is that a fact?” she said.  “I got friends who are looking into your son’s previous school records.  Ye’ve hidden quite a bit, and ye’ve got yer own skeletons tucked away too, don’t ye?”

He straightened.  “My son’s records are court sealed.”

“And yet they’ve somehow been leaked onto the internet,” she said, her hazel eyes now as hard as her nephew’s.

Robbins’ face was bright red, his brow like an avalanche waiting to fall on whoever was underneath it.  He was completely unused to being defied and outmaneuvered and his was the kind of ego that couldn’t take it.  I waited and watched.  I would take out his left knee, a kick to the side of the joint with all my force and weight behind it.  And whichever way he fell I would power into it, accelerating his impact with the ground.  From there, perhaps hyperextend an elbow joint or a direct assault on his head with my boot.  As hard and brutal as I could make it.  He was aware of me standing to his side, his body slightly tensed, ready.

“A single woman with a dependent should be more careful,” Robbins said, softly.  “Lots of things can happen, especially to a pretty young thing like you.”

Declan snapped. He raised one hand, his right, maybe three inches, and even though he was two feet away, Max Robbins body slammed backward like he’d been hit by a car. Flew ten feet like he was made of cardboard, instantly folded over, slamming into the ground.  He looked stricken, his mouth open, trying to draw a breath, but unable to get a full gasp.

Ashling stepped forward and pushed one hand toward his face and one hand toward his torso.  Instantly he drew a full breath, eyes still wild but the panic fading.

I was on his other side, ready to help in the unlikely event she needed it, so I was perfectly situated to hear what she said to him.

“Tis’ a good thing ye wore yer vest, otherwise me nephew might have crushed yer sternum like a soda can.  Ye got to be careful throwing threats at young women, Max Robbins.  Sometimes that bullshite, as ye call it, is real,” she said, very softly.  Then she reached over and pinched his mustache between thumb and index finger and yanked sharply.

He jerked at the sudden sharp pain, but his body was still stunned by the massive hammer blow the middle school witch had hit him with.  “Now me nephew and meself will jest hang onto this bit of lip fluff.  Ye see, bullshite witches can reach out and touch someone if they have a bit of that person to remember them by. Tweak an aorta, freeze a diaphragm or the like.”

Another police car pulled up, but it was a Chittenden Sheriff’s SUV and Darci stepped out of it.

“Oh, good timing Darci dear,” Ashling said.  “Trooper Robbins here fell and stunned his own solar plexus he did.”

“Is that so?” Darci said, glancing at Declan who wore a stony expression. “Max, I thought you were going to avoid the O’Carroll’s?  On account of how it might look like a conflict of your interests in this situation.”

Robbins was now sitting up, his eyes filled with fear.  Ashling stepped back and Declan stepped right up beside her.  The boy’s expression was cold, hard, and focused.  Robbins looked from the pretty witch to the young witch and then climbed to his feet, not taking his eyes off them.  By now several restaurant customers had come outside and a mini crowd was starting to form.

Darci moved up to the giant and spoke softly, so quiet I couldn’t hear.  But I didn’t need to, instead I stepped between the cop and the boy, eyes on the much, much greater threat.

“You good?” I asked him.  He glanced at me, then back to the man who had threatened his only living relative.  “Yup.  Just want to make sure that Magnus’s dad is okay,” he said.  In my head I translated that to I’m ready to eliminate any threat to my aunt.

Rubbing his chest, Robbins got back into his car and then pulled a gravel throwing U-turn and drove away.  Ashling chatted and charmed the customers and Declan went back to work.

Two days later I was drinking coffee at my regular table, answering some emails and getting caught up on my record keeping when Declan swung by with a coffee pot.  He filled my cup and then took a seat.

“How are you doing?” I asked.  His black eye was now a spectacular shade of yellow.

“I’m good.  Magnus never came back to school.  Heard his dad yanked him.”

“How are you and Trey?”

“Trey’s having all kinds of electronics issues.  Two brand new phones have crapped the bed and his iPad keeps on freezing up.”

“Does he know why?”

“Oh, yeah, he knows.”

The door opened and two ladies came in.  One was Jessica Connors, the other a middle-aged woman I didn’t recognize.

“Excuse me Levi,” Declan said, eyes on his pretty friend.  He led them to a table not far from mine and went to get them water.  Jessica was clearly at ease, but the woman with her was on edge.

“Here you are, Mrs. Johnson, Jess,” he said when he came back with tall glasses of ice water.

Ah, Trey Johnson’s mother.  This was interesting.

“Declan, we were hoping you had a moment,” Jessica said.

“Of course, Jess, how can I help?”

Jessica turned to Trey’s mother, eyebrows up, tossing her the conversational ball.

“Ah, Declan, wow, your eye…” the older woman started awkwardly, her voice fading as she took in his bruised face.

“It looks worse than it is, Mrs. Johnson,” he said.

“Well, I hope it heals up fast dear,” she said.  “But I was wondering if you had heard about Trey’s phone issues?”

“Yes ma’am.  Sounds like it’s getting expensive,” he said easily.

“Very.  I was wondering if you know why it keeps happening?”

“Ah, well, between you and me Mrs. Johnson, I think that Trey gets careless sometimes.  He’s got lots of things going for him and I think he forgets himself, sorta takes it for granted.  That can make you careless and next thing you know your phone is broken or your iPad or your grades are slipping.”

Her eyes widened at the last bit about grades.  “Thank you for your honesty, Declan.  I’m afraid you are right.  My Trey shares more than a few traits with his father and they’re not good ones.”

“Yes ma’am.  I think he forgets to consider consequences.  My aunts and my friend Levi are always talking to me about consequences.  The need to think before acting and all that.”

“That’s very sound advice Declan.  I’ve been having those very conversations with Trey recently.  I think he’s turning a new leaf.”

“Glad to hear it ma’am.”

“The thing is, do you think, if he is more considerate, that he won’t wreck so many phones?”

“Oh, I should think so ma’am.  I would think this might be a lesson to learn from.”

“I can assure you it has been.”

“Well, I think that’s great,” Declan said, turning to go, but then pausing.  “But I just hope he keeps those lessons close.  Should he slip or worse,” he said, looking at Jessica, “the consequences could only be bad.”

Then he headed back into the kitchen.

Trey’s mother looked at Jessica, a question on her face.  Jessica didn’t respond, instead turning my way.  “Hi Mr. Guildersleeve,” she said.

“Hi Jessica.  How is your family?”

“Good, sir.  How do you think he’s doing?” she asked, head nodding toward the kitchen.

“I think he’s a remarkable young man who is handling more than his share of challenges.”

“I think you’re right.  Nice to see you,” Jessica said.

“Nice to see you too, Jessica.  Oh, look at the time!  I need to get back to the store.  Enjoy your lunch, ladies.”

“Thank you, I’m sure we will,” she said with a smile as I packed up and left.

I doubted that Trey had fully learned his lesson, but it was Declan’s takeaways that really mattered.  Later that week he came by for his first lesson since the incident.

“Show me what you did to the cop?” I said, pointing at a heavy bag to avoid any confusion about a target.

He made a little motion toward the eighty-pound punching bag, and it folded around an invisible fist as it swung for the ceiling.

“Telekinetic,” he said.

“Okay, we’re going to practice making that look like a real punch and dialing it way down.  I didn’t know you could do that.”

“There’s a lot I can do that I don’t think you… or anyone, knows about.”

“Yeah, we’re going to explore that.  You are a steward of enormous power, kid.  We, and by that, I mean you, need to understand it.”

“Yes sir.  Almost word for word what my aunt says,” he said, then grinned.  “But it sounds better when she says it.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second.”

Chapter 10

Four months passed in relative quiet.  A couple of solid first edition acquisitions, three consigned auctions of arcane books, Declan making solid progress in his Krav Maga studies, a steady peace with Trey Johnson and the graduation of sixth grade.  Summer was busy for the boy with most of the restaurant’s kitchen gardens falling under his care.  The restaurant billed itself as farm-to-table with as much food grown on its own grounds as possible.  A tall order for a middle school student, but he handled it both easily and happily.  Ashling had told me that Earth witches had extremely green thumbs, but the proof was in watching the vegetable and herb gardens flourish under his care.  Cold frames had provided kale, spinach, lettuce, winter potatoes, onions and cabbage.  As spring advanced toward summer, radishes, beets and carrots were added to the mix along with chives, basil, thyme, rosemary, calendula and a dozen other herbs.  Snap peas blossomed early, followed by pole beans, summer squash, zucchini, cucumber, and early varieties of tomatoes.

The boy kept it all going, watering, amending the soil, composting, weeding and planting in rotation.  And he loved it, never complaining about the work and I often found him out wandering the gardens checking his charges.

His shipping container room was about finished, there being very little we had to do to convert it to his use.  The structure was the result of a local professor who needed a container and a place to keep it in order to conduct a sustainable design class.  The finished product belonged to Ashling by agreement and now after a few safety additions, to Declan.  The primary reason Declan was moving out of the house and into the steel container had as much or more to do with weather as it did teen and adult privacy.  The boy attracted lightning, particularly when sleeping, and while he seemed safe from strikes, the same could not be said for the buildings around him.

But the container was all steel, set twenty feet from the main building, and thanks to my efforts, heavily grounded.  It also wore four rather vintage lightning rods scavenged from Vermont antique dealers.  The thick copper cables coming off the rods and exterior of the container all attached to an ancient, rusted farm harrow that had been left in the barn.  It was my idea to bury it deep underground and run the wires to it, an idea I thought would be met with resistance over the cost of excavating. Turns out excavating is obsolete when you have a powerful Earth witch around.  Declan just sank the three hundred pounds of steel into the ground with a wave of his hand, the grass not even disturbed by its passage.

We moved him into the new quarters in late August, just weeks before seventh grade was due to start.  One of my housewarming gifts was a small flatscreen that mounted in an upper corner of his tiny dwelling.  Oddly, Ashling had not been too excited about it.

“It’s really just a bigger monitor than his laptop.  He doesn’t even have cable,” I said.

“Tis a fine gift Levi, but I’m loath for him to get caught up with modern media, the news in particular.”

That struck me as odd, but I didn’t press her, just happy that the kid was happy.  He could watch Netflix and a few other services, and she was fine with whatever movies he could scare up.  Rory and Jonah were frequent overnight visitors in the weeks leading up to the first day of school.

About two weeks after classes started, he arrived at my place for practice.  I had my own television going in the corner of the workout room as I finished getting things ready for our training.  I had him start his stretching while I sorted weapons.  When I glanced over at him, I saw him frozen in place, eyes on the screen, a local news story playing.  It took me a second to register the story’s content and it was that moment that I understood Ashling’s cryptic statement.

“The three rapes that have occurred on UVM’s campus this semester have resulted in a campus wide curfew and Burlington police helping the campus police to beef up patrols.  Live from UVM, I’m Sabrina Hauser.”

The boy was breathing rapidly and his whole body was tensed up.  I shut off the television, mentally cursing myself.  The story had been developing all week, but news of that kind was not discussed at Rowan West.

“Alright, let’s go right into two stick drills,” I said, setting him to work on a punching bag with escrima sticks.  If I had let him punch with his hands, the possibility of him bleeding telekinesis into his strikes went way up when he was this upset.  The sticks worked to keep the impacts down, and the speed of the strikes kept him working hard.

In fact, I pushed him very hard that night, trying my best to drain away the awful anger that simmered behind his eyes.

When Darci came to pick him up, I confessed my crime.  “Well, we never outright told you not to let him see any news, it’s just he’s now of an age where he can understand what the crime really is.  But don’t worry, he looks whipped.”

I heard nothing for two days until Friday night.  Then I got a frantic call from Ashling.  “He’s left home.  Took his bike and pedaled off he did,” she said, a note of panic in her voice.

“Where?  You, of all people, should be able to track him,” I said.

“Ah, so you might think.  But I’ve taught him to shield himself, ya see.  Leaves a blank spot in me Sight.”

“So look for the blank spot,” I said.

She sucked in a breath but didn’t say a word for a second.  It told me a great deal that she hadn’t thought of that on her own.  “I cannot see much more than direction, but he’s headed toward Burlington. Darci is at a traffic accident and can’t get away, Levi.”

“I’m on it,” I said.

I took the older of my two vehicles, a vintage Jeep Wrangler that I had lovingly restored, as my other car, a beat-up Mercedes sedan with high mileage, was in the shop.  The Jeep was better for my purposes anyway, the kind of vehicle that fit right in with a college campus.  That’s where I suspected he was headed, the University of Vermont campus, on a solo hunting trip.

It’s twenty miles from Castlebury to Burlington and despite his head start, I came into town close on his heels, at least according to his aunt’s running commentary over the phone.  That’s a hell of a pedal but not for a person who can spell their bicycle to run itself off ambient environmental kinetic energy, mainly from cars and trucks.

With visions of explaining myself to patrolling cops I cruised through the residential sections of the campus and spotted my quarry almost immediately.

“Hey, this is piss poor planning,” I said, pulling up with my windows down.

He froze, a dark hoody wearing kid walking a ten-speed bike on the campus sidewalk.  “Didn’t I teach you better than this?” I asked.

He was derailed by my approach, unprepared for a critique rather than the normal adult lecture.

“What?” he asked finally.

“Your plan?  It’s sloppy and inconclusive.  How are you gonna find this guy by just walking around?  How are you going to cover this entire campus?  Especially as this criminal is likely lying low amidst all the cops out here, who by the way, are going to be really interested in what you’re up to.”

I no sooner said it and a campus patrol car pulled up alongside me, the outside flood light shining on both my Jeep and Declan.

“You aware there’s a curfew?” the cop said, eyeing me and then the boy.

“Yes, officer.  Declan was supposed to be back in Castlebury by now, but he was having bike issues, so I drove over to give him a lift.”

“That correct son?” the cop asked.

“Yes sir. It’s already past my own curfew and my aunt can’t get away from her restaurant, so Levi came.”

“Restaurant?  Rowan West?” the cop asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Great food.  Carry on gentlemen,” he said.

I hopped out of the Jeep and helped Declan load it onto the bike rack I use for my own mountain bike.  The flood light stayed on us the whole time, which made things easier.

“Thanks for the light, Officer,” I said.

“Have a good night Mr. Guildersleeve,” he responded, letting me know he’d run my plates.

The first part of the ride home was quiet until I broke the silence.  “What was your plan?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but after a few long seconds he finally spoke.  “It wasn’t much of a plan. I just couldn’t bear to think about some dirtbag out there, hunting for girls.”

“Okay, I get that.  I also understand why you might not broach the subject with adults, but I do expect that you would plan something that would actually be effective.”

“Like what?”

“How the hell do I know?  I’m not a witch.  Me, I’d gather intelligence, learn what I could from the cops, from the locals, the reporters, the victims. Track him down with human intelligence, as opposed to electronic intelligence, which is what I would have guessed you would do.”

“Oh,” he said, that single word conveying how displeased he was with himself.

“Look, I don’t understand how you feel about everything… I can’t… I’m not you and haven’t lived your life.  But I understand being emotionally triggered by something.  Happens to everyone, we all just have different triggers.  What am I always saying about planning?”

“Planning helps you overcome oh shit situations.  It’s never perfect, it never survives contact with real life, but it provides options and framework.”

“And while I might not have said this before, plans to help deal with emotionally wrought situations are even more important.  That’s why Darci has you train so safely when shooting.  The moment the adrenaline starts pumping, and fear enters the picture, that muscle memory for safe gun handling becomes hyper important.”

“Aunt Ash knows?”

“I think that one of the only safe assumptions to make in this life is that your aunt knows almost everything.”

“I screwed up.  I could have sat home and hac… dug up solid information like you said.”

“What would you have done if you caught some guy with a girl?  How would you know whether he was the true rapist, or just a horny undergrad?”

He was silent and when I glanced at him his jaw was clenched.

“If an animal gets into your garden and eats half your crops, are you going to just start shooting all deer?”

“This isn’t remotely the same,” he protested, as I knew he would.

“Of course not.  You’re talking about another human being.  What I teach you is bad enough, what you can do with a thought is so much more.”

He went silent and didn’t speak the rest of the trip.  When we got to Rowan West, he helped me get his bike off the rack, then walked it to his container.  After leaning it up against the metal wall, he stood for a second in front of his door.  Then he straightened, turned, and headed into the family quarters.  The door opened before he got there, Ashling framed in the light.  He looked at her for a moment then slipped inside.  She gave me a nod before following her nephew, pulling the door shut behind her.

The next morning, I got a call.  “Elint?  Really?” Darci asked.

“You start in hammering on a kid like that and your message will slip right past them,” I said. “He would have thought of it eventually.”

“Preaching to the choir, Levi,” she said.  “Color me slightly impressed.  His aunt is helping him figure out how to solve this thing.  We thought you might want to be here.”

I got there in ten minutes.  Declan had his laptop open on the family table; a wireless printer set up next to it. His aunts were on either side of him, watching whatever he was doing.

“He’s hacked the damned police department,” Darci said as she turned to me.

“I’d hardly even call it hacking,” Declan said.  “The university system is very porous, with just a hop, skip and a jump to the campus police system.  And they have a link to the city police.”

“There must be security,” I said.

“There is.  Each system is password protected,” he answered, pushing a key on his laptop.  The printer started to kick out pages.  “But the passwords are all obvious to me.”

“Obvious in that you can guess them or obvious in that you just sorta know them?” I asked.

“The second one.  Whoever signed in last, their password is just kinda… there.”

“He’s printing out the bloody police files,” Ashling said, picking up the first few pages.

“Will this be traceable back to you?” I asked.

He looked at me like I was crazy.  “What?  It’s a valid question,” I said.

“The last person to sign into the Burlington Police system and access this file was the investigating detective, Peter Montrose,” Declan said. “That’s the only fingerprint so to speak on the system.”

I knew that name.  “Isn’t he the guy that investigated the serial kidnapper?” I asked.

“Tis him,” Ashling agreed without looking up from the police file.

“Peter’s a bit OCD but he’s not a bad sort,” Darci said.  “He’s just suspicious of everything by both nature and training. Declan made him suspicious.”

“Looks like they have a suspect, they do,” Ashling said, still looking at the pages.  Before any of us could demand more information, she turned and held up a single page, showing a driver’s license photo of a man.  His head was round, with a receding hairline, his eyes pale gray and set close together.

“Daniel Moers, age thirty-two, lives near the campus, has a record,” Darci read out loud from the page.  “History of stalking, harassment and one previous charge of rape that was dropped.”

I was watching Declan while she read.  His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tight.

“They have any evidence this time?” I asked, eyes on the kid.

“He matches the description that two of the girls gave, but it’s very general.  Has no alibi for any of the rapes.  He works at one of the dining halls on campus.  They’re trying to dig up whatever they can, but there is nothing close to real evidence.”

“Could you get someone like that to confess?” I asked Ashling.

“Aye,” she said.  “But there’s two types of confession.  First the one where an innocent man admits to doing something he never did.  That was popular with some of me old circle.  The second is where ye trigger the ego, and they have to brag about it.”

“I think we’re looking for the second kind,” Darci said.

Declan was looking at Ashling, eyes slightly wide, surprised.

“Well, it’s easier with men, but that’s ta be expected, now isn’t it?” Ashling said.

“How does it work?”

“Ye charm a thing, any old thing, and get it inna their hands.  The spell is tricky as it’s gotta make them want to be recognized for how clever they are, but not make them fearful.”

“Well within your abilities then?” I asked.

She snorted.  “Please, we were doing it as schoolgirls.  Getting those eejit lads to spout off was cake.”

“Well, we have a suspect, we can possibly get him to confess, now we need a plan where he confesses in front of the police,” I said.

“And doesn’t recant it,” Darci added.

“Yeah, that too,” I agreed.

“Well, there may be a way,” Ashling said.  “Since we have our own officer of the law and all.”

“What are you thinking?”

“He needs to touch the object, and then it needs to stay with him,” Ashling said.

“Can we spell a powder or liquid that gets on his fingers?” I asked.

“Aye, the problem being that a fine dash of powder won’t hold the spell for long,” Ashling said.  “We’d need an uncommon strong witch to keep the power on it we would.”

“Oh, that seems like a problem,” Darci said in an exaggerated tone.

Declan looked at me as if to say are they serious?

“So no problem then?” I asked.

“Me boyo needs to be close is all,” Ashling said.

“Like the backseat of a sheriff’s cruiser?” I asked.  “Behind tinted windows.”

“Yeah, like that,” Ashling said.

It came together much faster than I expected.  By three that afternoon Declan and I were sitting in the back of Darci’s SUV, watching as our favorite deputy walked up to Moers’ door with Detective Peter Montrose.  Part of the police file had included a short piece of video evidence from a security camera on campus.  The video was very blurry and quite distant, at least until Declan worked his literal magic on it.  Darci was carrying a file with a printed phot of Daniel Moers that was clearly recognizable, walking thirty feet from where the second victim was lying.  The photo was timestamped and dated, but it wasn’t going to hold up well in court as it would be easy for an attorney to get an expert witness to say it was modified.  Darci had convinced Montrose it was worth showing to Moers to see if he could be rattled.  The paper was dusted with Ashling’s special powder, her spell given extra power by her nephew.

As we watched from the confines of the vehicle, Declan was muttering softly, in Gaelic.

A lean, skeevy looking man opened the door, his expression hostile as he saw the two cops.  But he did take the picture from Darci to look at it, her hands gloved, his bare.  We listened through the wire that Darci wore, although it was Montrose’s body camera that would record the evidence.

“Well shit.  I thought I had that camera beat,” he said.  “How’d you idiots get this?  I swear you people bungle everything.  But only one photo out of three successful evenings, pretty slim.”

“You admit it was you?” Montrose asked.

“Of course, it was me. No one else in Burlington is smart enough to get away with it.  None of those swollen head fucking professors, none of those snot nose frat boys could give those girls what they needed.  Just me.  Dan Moers.”

And that was that.  Montrose had a couple of uniformed Burlington officers waiting in a cruiser at the curb and they handcuffed Moers, read him his rights and slipped him into the car.  Darci popped back into the SUV and followed Montrose’s unmarked car to the department.  She was inside the station for quite a while, but we just camped out, eating snacks and drinking water, Declan occasionally chanting the recharge spell.

Two hours later, she came out and climbed into the vehicle.  She didn’t turn to us or speak until we were underway for Castlebury.

“He confessed on camera a second time, then again with his attorney present.  Couldn’t crow loud enough.  Good work kid,” she said when we were on the road.

“What if he walks it back?” I asked.

“His story had multiple details that were never revealed to the public, and he signed it in front of his attorney who advised him against it.  The DA is beside herself.”

“Any tough questions for you?” I asked.

“Everyone wanted to know how I got that photo enhanced.  I said I had a confidential tech consultant. Seemed to work on everyone but Montrose.”

“What did he have to say?” I asked.

“Tell the boy thanks.”

Chapter 11

Declan trained with me on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.  My book shop closed at four in the afternoon those days and it gave us a good workout while still leaving him time for homework.  But life happens and some weeks we had to adapt our schedule.  It so happened that a new potential extracurricular activity had a Thursday afternoon welcome meeting for perspective members.  Declan ended up coming in Friday afternoon and I had him run drills and use the bags which allowed me to keep an eye on the store as it stayed open till six on Fridays.

When he finished, he showered then did his homework at the checkout counter which allowed me to time work on some very behind paperwork in my tiny office just out back.  I could hear him interact with the few customers I got at that hour, but he handled them well.  Growing up in a customer service business had given him solid skills.

I heard the bell over the door jingle as someone entered.

“Is Levi here?” a soft female voice asked.  Recognizing it, I started to stand up, but my amulet went icy cold, a warning signal I was learning to listen to.

“He’s working out back, ma’am.  He should be done in a few minutes.  Can I help you find something?”

It was odd that he didn’t automatically call for me.

“You’re awfully young to be working a job, aren’t you?” she asked, slightly amused.

“That’s the same as me saying that you’re awfully pretty to be a marine biology professor,” he responded.

“How did you know I’m a professor?” she asked, surprised.

“Hah, I was right.  Took a guess but it worked out,” he said.  She must have given him a look; one that I could picture having seen it myself. He quickly continued.  “Levi said he’d been out to dinner with a new professor from UVM. You came in asking for him by name and most people don’t.”

“He must have given you a description?” she asked.

“No, he didn’t, which is what clued me in.”

“What does that mean?”

“You might not know this yet, but Levi is a movie geek.  I am too.  We often describe people by which actors they remind us of.  He only told me that you were extremely interesting and probably smarter than he is.  He never mentioned that you look a lot like Vanessa Hudgens in a more grown-up way.”

Whoa, who knew Declan was such a smooth talker.

“I still don’t understand,” she said.  I think it was rare for her to be confused by anything.

“If you’ll excuse me for saying this, you are very pretty… extremely pretty.  Levi left that little fact out which means he was really concentrating on you, not on how you look, if that makes sense. As if he was trying to overlook it. When he failed to give me a description it left me with two options… either you were very attractive or very not.  Since most people are attracted to attractiveness, it seemed more likely that you would be the first.  See, I’m debating being on the debate team,” he explained.

“You’re a shoe in.  What’s your name?”

“Declan.  You are Marianne, right?”

“Yes I am.  I was trying to find a local restaurant I keep hearing about and somehow my GPS failed me.  So, I thought I’d drop in here. I figured Levi would know it.”

“Rowan West?”

“Yes!  That’s the one.  You obviously know it,” she said.

“I live there.  It’s my aunt’s place. It’s where I met Levi.”

“And you work here?”

“No, I work out here.  Levi trains me.  But occasionally I watch the counter while he does some business stuff. Then he takes me home.”

“He trains you?”

“Yes, in Krav Maga.”

“Levi is a Krav Maga instructor?” she asked, clearly astonished.

“He taught it in the military.”

“There’s another tidbit I didn’t know.  Military huh?”

“Uh oh, maybe I’m telling too much.  Perhaps I should go get him?”

“Oh, I don’t know, this is very educational,” she said, an audible smirk in her voice.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

Seconds later he was at my door, his school notebook in his hands.  “Levi, a friend of yours is here,” he said, loud enough for her to hear.  He held up the notebook.  She’s a Water witch was written across the page.

“Oh?” I said, scribbling a message of my own on scrap paper. “Who?” I asked out loud.  My note said Is she dangerous?

“Your professor friend is out front, Marianne.  She’s looking for Aunt Ash’s place, so maybe if you take me home, you two could grab dinner?” he suggested even as he read my page and then started writing another message.

“Well, I could close a bit early,” I said, craning to see what his page.

Not powerful. I’m shielded.  Already texted Aunt Ash.  All good.

“Cool,” he said.  “Tonight’s special is Penne alla Vodka and it’s really good.”

A fact I already knew.

We stepped back out to the store and Dr. Marianne Hollingford took my breath away. Five foot six, petite, black hair and black eyes, looking very much like an older version of the actress Declan had mentioned.  She smiled, one eyebrow slightly up in amusement.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hello yourself,” she said as Declan moved around the counter and to the door, which he locked, also flipping the open sign to closed.

“I’m told that you’re looking for our best local restaurant,” I said.

“I was,” she admitted.  “But now I have an inside edge,” she said with a nod at Declan.

“That’s true, Levi,” he said with a smirk.  “I’m sure that Aunt Ash would love to meet her.”

“Hah, but don’t forget your aunt’s gun carrying partner,” I joked back.

“Nah, Darci would like to meet her just as much,” he said.  “My aunt’s girlfriend is a deputy sheriff,” he explained to Marianne, melting the momentary confusion from her eyes.  Then another question formed on her face but again the preteen witch answered before it could be voiced.  “I live with my aunt because my mom died when I was eight.”

She nodded, carefully not asking the obvious question about a father.

“You could drive all of us, then give Marianne a lift back here after,” Declan suggested.  He was rarely this outgoing around new people, particularly women.  All I could think of was his first written message.  This fascinating woman, highly educated in the biological sciences, was, according to him, a witch.  A water witch.

“Sure,” she agreed.

“The Jeep?” he asked me.  I nodded.

Soon we were on the road, Declan tucked in the back, Marianne in the shotgun seat.  “I’ve heard an awful lot about your aunt’s restaurant, Declan.”

“Everything you heard pales before the real experience,” he said with assurance, head down, texting on his phone like any kid.  Except I was pretty sure he was texting his aunt.

“Whoa,” she said, glancing at me.  “Confidence. I like it.”

“He’s right.  You’re in for a treat,” I said, glancing in the rear-view mirror.  Declan met my eyes and winked.  He really was confident.

We got to Rowan West and his aunt met us at the door.  I immediately noticed there was no cobweb feeling as we went through the door.  The ward was down.

“Tis a pleasure to meet you Marianne,” Ashling said with a warm smile, shaking her hand.  “Levi is a dear friend.”

“I had no idea he had friends in such delicious smelling places,” Marianne said.  “I hear tonight’s special is particularly good.”

“Ye need to be careful taking the word of a boy about food.  Cardboard tastes good to him if he’s hungry enough,” Ashling said, leading us to a table while Declan went straight into the kitchen.  Ashling took our drink orders herself, chatting easily with Marianne about the area, the college, and the foods she favored.  She left us with menus and headed to the bar.  A waitress descended on our table with glasses of water and fresh baked bread.

Moments later Ashling was back with a Guinness for me and a glass of merlot for Marianne, taking our dinner orders as well.

“I’ve was told that you had an unusual shop here as well,” Marianne said.

“Jest behind ye dear.  It’s a bit of New Age, mixed with folklore and a bit of this and a bit of that,” Ashling said with a wave of her hand, casually dismissing it.

“Oh, that’s fascinating,” Marianne said.  “I’m a scientist by training, but I firmly believe that we really know very little about how the universe works.”

“Watch this one, Levi, she’s uncommon sharp,” Ashling said to me with a wink, then excused herself to put our orders in.

“This place has an incredible feel to it,” Marianne said, sipping her water.

“Good energy, right?” I asked, cautiously.

“I was telling the truth you know,” she said.  “I really think humans have so much to learn about the workings of our reality.”

“That’s a bit more open minded than I’m used to from scientists.”

“You probably meet all kinds of people traveling around collecting books?”

“I do,” I said. “But some of the most interesting are right here close to home.”

“Like our very attractive hostess?” she asked.

“Who is more interested in you than me,” I replied.

“She seems like a force of nature,” she ventured, looking across the room at Ashling who was entertaining a four pack of customers with some story or tale.

“Very strong, very determined,” I said.

“What’s up with her nephew?  No father?” she asked.

“His mother was raped. She was murdered when he was eight.  Touchy subject,” I said.

“Is that why he trains in Krav Maga with you?” she asked, eyebrows arched.

“No, he trains because he and another boy were abducted by a serial killer who electrocuted himself by accident.”

“He’s that boy?” she asked, astonished.

“You can imagine that a kid born of rape, whose mother was murdered, and who was almost tortured and murdered himself, might have a shaky worldview.  I think what I teach him helps him feel a bit more confident.”

“He certainly conducts himself with a swagger,” she said. “Bet the middle school girls love that.”

“Not as much as you might think.  He’s not that confident with kids his own age, just adults.”

She tilted her head in thought.  “Odd, he has a certain energy about him as well.”

“I can testify that he has lots of energy,” I said, rolling one shoulder like it was sore.

She laughed. “I had no idea you were such a dangerous character,” she said.  “Krav instructor, ex-military badass.”

“Hah.  More like bookish dealer in old paper,” I said.

“Is it dangerous? Travelling to collect old books?”

“Mostly not.  Almost got pickpocketed more than once though,” I said.

“Looks like the shop has some books.  Do you mind if I check it out?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Go ahead.  I need to give Ashling an update on Declan so take your time.  Orders are usually out in about fifteen minutes.”

She headed to the gift shop, and I let myself into the kitchen.  One of the chefs nodded toward the office.  I found Ashling and Declan huddled over a pile of her rune chips that were splayed out on her desk.

“The boyo is right.  Water witch, low to medium level.”

“I had no idea,” I said, meeting and holding Ashling’s eyes.

“How would ya?  She’s well under the radar living as a professor.  But I wonder if she looked ye up with more than a casual interest in the books ye collect.”

“But I just ran into her out of the blue,” I said.  “Chance meeting in Burlington at a… bookstore.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” she said. “Could be just a matter of her requesting help from the goddess and you falling into her path.  Laddie?”

“I didn’t get anything bad off her Aunt Ash. And I was really tamped down when she came into the store.”

“Aye, being physically tired would help with that it would.”

“Rowan West’s gift shop is well known locally to the New Age crowd,” I pointed out.  “How did you know what she was?” I asked Declan.

“She’s not good at shielding herself,” he said.  “In fact, she’s a pretty obvious target to witches that hunt other witches.”

“Aye, she is at that,” Ashling said.  “We may have to protect her ourselves.  How do you feel about her Levi?”

“I just met her,” I said.

“And?” she pressed.

“Well, she’s very smart, really interesting.  She was a snowmobile racer all through her teen and college years.  Won more than a few races too.”

“Affinity for snow,” Ashling said to Declan who nodded.

“Bet she water skis or scuba dives too,” he said.

“Yes, to the scuba.  She’s a marine biologist after all.”

“Ye should get back out there.  Also, don’t be lying to her.  She’ll know.”

Back at the table I found Marianne leafing through a book on Wicca.

“This looks interesting,” she said, “The waitress said I could pay after dinner.”

“You’re interested in witchcraft?” I asked.

“Odd, right?  But as I said, my personal belief is that theoretical particle physics has a long way to go before we understand half of what we think we do.”

“Dr. Hollingford, you really are a surprise,” I said.

“I didn’t have a chance to look around your shop, as your protégé was far too engaging.  You must have a few books on this stuff?”

“A few.  Did you have family members that were into this kind of lore?” I asked.

“I’m adopted,” she said.  “I have no idea if any blood relatives were drawn to this kind of thing.”

“Have you had experiences?”

She looked at me warily.

“I’m not going to judge what you tell me.  I’ve seen more than a few odd things in my time.”

“For some reason I think you’re glossing over a lot with that statement.  Okay, yes, I have.  Not like ghost stories, but really odd things occur whenever I’m around lakes or oceans.”

“Which is all the time,” I said.

She nodded, looking a bit vulnerable.

“What do you know about witches?” I asked.

She looked at her book.  “No not that.  About actual witches?” I asked.

“You say that like Wicca isn’t a thing?”

“Oh, it is. But not every practitioner of Wicca is what I would term a real witch”.

“What’s your definition?”

“Someone who can manipulate reality with their mind.  And manipulate energy in particular.”

She leaned forward. “Do you know any?  Have you seen things?”

“Yes, and yes.  It’s not something you can learn from a book like that,” I said.

“But there are books?  Real books that can teach… things?”

“You’re speaking of grimoires and yes they exist.  Most people can’t even read them, but there are folks with the right genetics that can do some pretty crazy stuff.”

“Spoon bending kind of stuff?”

I snorted. “Party tricks.  No, there are people walking this world that can do far more than bend spoons.”

“Can you introduce me?  Are they local?  I’ll travel,” she said.

“You familiar with the movie Fight Club?”

“As in the first rule of fight club is that you don’t talk about fight club?”

“Yup.  History has been rather brutal to these people and those that have survived are pretty paranoid, with very, very good reason.”

“Have you handled grimoires?”

“Yes.  They are incredibly rare, coveted by their owners, and dangerous, so it doesn’t happen often.”

“Dangerous knowledge?” she asked.

“Yes, but I meant that the books themselves are dangerous.  They’ll often protect themselves.”

She pulled back and looked at me, a little stunned.  “I swear I ran into you for a reason,” she said.

“Here we go, two Friday night specials,” Ashling said, arriving at the table with her nephew behind her.  She had two plates of Penne alla Vodka and Declan carried two plates of garden salad.  “Is there anything else we can get ye?”

Marianne held up the book.  “Can I perhaps buy this as well?”

Ashling frowned.  “Well, I suppose, although there be a half dozen I think would be better choices.”

“Marianne has a personal interest in the history of witches and witchcraft,” I said.

Ashling looked at me for a moment, then at Marianne.  “Well, I should think so,” she said.  “Lad?”

“I’ll get them Aunt Ash,” Declan said.

“Ye know which ones I mean?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.  He gently plucked the book from my date’s hands and headed to the shop.  A few minutes later he was back, just as we finished our salads.

“Oh, Declan, you were right.  This food is incredible and I’m still on the salad.”

“Thank you, I grew all that myself,” he said.  “You could say that I have a gift for it,” he said, putting a small pile of books by her side of the table.  “Aunt Ash says those come out of Levi’s account.”

Marianne looked ready to protest but I held up a hand.  “First rule is that we don’t argue with Ashling,” I said.  Her eyes got a little wide as she got my meaning.  Then she looked at Declan who shrugged.  “Don’t look at me.  I don’t dare argue with her,” he said.

I snorted.  “You’re the only one who is ever successful at it.”

“Rarely.  Enjoy the pasta,” he said, giving us both a smile then disappearing into the kitchen.

“Something just happened, right?”

“I’d say yes.  My advice would be to reach out to Ashling tomorrow. Perhaps she has some answers to your questions.”

“She’s one, isn’t she?”

“Fight club remember?”

“Right.  But I know I’m right.  I just know it.”  She took a bite of her food.  “Oh my.  This is amazing.  It’s…”

“Magical?” I asked.

Beautiful dark eyes wide, she just nodded.  I took a bite myself.

“I know I ran into you for a reason,” she said quietly, taking another bite but holding my eyes with hers.

“I hope more than one,” I said.

She just smiled.

Chapter 12

“How’s your girlfriend?” he asked as he swept up the studio floor.

“You must see her more than I do… she’s with your aunt a lot,” I said.

“I’m not allowed on the property when Aunt Ash is training her,” he said.  His tone said more than his words.

“And what would you guess is the reason for that?” I asked in my instructor voice.

“So that she doesn’t figure out that I’m also a witch,” he said tiredly.

“How about so that she doesn’t figure out that you are a hell of a lot more than just a witch?” I asked.  “As in a witch that people will literally kill for.”

“Then why does Aunt Ash take the risk?  Nobody even knows I exist, but much of the witch world knows of Ash.”

“You tell me,” I said, watching him.

“There are some risks that are necessary, laddie.  And it pleases the goddess,” he said in an excellent copy of his aunt’s accent.  The fact that his voice broke halfway through it only slightly detracted from the imitation.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?” I asked.

“I could help,” he said.  “And you’re always saying that in order to really learn, you have to teach.”

“You think you’re a better teacher than Ashling?”

“Of course not.  But I’m at least dual powered in Earth and Fire.  Learning about other types of energy use is important.  Mom always said so.”

“What do you mean by at least dual powered?” I asked.

“I mean that it gives me two paths of experience to teach from,” he said quickly.  He was lying.  Witches don’t lie to each other because they can tell truth from falsehood.  He had almost no experience at it, and I knew his tells, but I let it slide. For now.

“Okay, I get it.  You’re a bit butt hurt that Ashling excluded you on the flimsy excuse that the witch world would explode if they discovered a male witch of your power, skill, and lineage.”

“When you say it that way I sound like a selfish asshole,” he said, going back to pushing the broom.

“I’m just reinforcing the really important lesson here – your security.”

“But she’s your girlfriend!  Do you really think she’ll tell the witch world that she is only just learning anything about that I exist?”

“Would she out you on purpose or for money?  Probably not.  I’ve only known her for a few months now, so I can’t be certain.  But she might let something slip by accident.  You, yourself, told me that she’s a neophyte witch, that another witch could spot her and probably take her.”

“She’s getting better.  I think she was really scared when my aunt told her about what could happen to her.”

“Well, I think you should trust the woman who has dedicated her entire life to protecting you,” I said.

He stopped sweeping, staring at the floor.

“I really am an asshole,” he said, then dropped the broom to retrieve the dustpan.

“Declan, you’re not an asshole because you want to help.  Listen, I’ve been thinking of taking on a few other students.  You could be my assistant and help teach them.”

“Really?  Who?  Why?”

“A couple of mothers in one of the book clubs that meets here are worried about their kids.  They’ve seen you come in and know that I teach you.  Their kids are younger.  Teaching would help you to learn.”

“That would be cool,” he allowed, but again I knew his tells.  He was a fast decision maker, his mind made up in the first two seconds, so when he pretended to consider something, I knew he was excited about it.

“But no slip ups.  You’re special training would have to be kept on the downlow.”

“You mean I can’t do this in class?” he asked, turning and throwing fast jabs at the two heavy bags which were ten feet away.  Both bags shuddered under the impact of his bone crushing telekinetic blows.

“Yeah, none of that.”

Just two weeks ago I had looked up at the store door jingle to find myself facing a furious Ashling O’Carroll.  She’d found out from Declan that I had been working with him on honing his telekinetic punches.  “Ye don’t have the right!  Even that level of power leaves traces,” she’d said.

I, in turn, had pointed to several wards that her nephew had hidden around the workout studio to block any stray magic and hide it from crafters.  She’d snorted but then inspected them closely, clearly impressed despite herself. The fact that she hadn’t noticed the wards until I poked a finger at them had an impact as well.  After that she had agreed he could still work on those skills but nothing else without her permission.

“Listen, I realize that you have trained from birth at the feet of two of the world’s most skilled Crafters.  You absolutely could help Marianne learn more about Craft.  But your clairvoyant aunt is against it.  There has to be a reason.”

A knock at the door interrupted any response he might have made, and the door opened to reveal his other aunt, still in her uniform.  “You ready kiddo?” Darci asked.

“Is it safe to go back yet?” he asked.

“Yup. Marianne has already left,” Darci said.

“Okay.  Thanks Levi.  Helping as an assistant would be cool,” Declan said, heading to the broom closet.

Darci gave me double raised brows as soon as his back was turned.  I mouthed teach and Marianne.

She looked a little confused but instead asked a question.  “An assistant instructor ah?”

“I’m thinking of taking on some youngsters for a kids self-defense class. Declan knows his stuff pretty well and I’ve always told him that teaching something helps you to really learn it.”

“Ah, got it,” she said, nodding, understanding blooming on her face.  Declan came back to us, grabbing his book bag and ever-present messenger bag, from their place by the door. “You ready, Chuck Norris?” she asked him.

He gave her a look of complete disbelief.  “When Chuck Norris slices onions, it’s the onions that cry,” he said.

Darci nodded then turned to me.  “Chuck doesn’t actually write books; the words just assemble themselves out of fear.”

“When Chuck was in seventh grade, his teacher asked him for an essay on what is courage.  He turned in a blank sheet with just his name at the top,” I said.  “Got an A plus.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Declan said.  “That’s perfect for English class with Jonah tomorrow.”

“Hey, what about mine?” Darci asked, pretending to be hurt.

“You got that from Rory when his family was in Rowan West the other night,” he said.

“Wow, tough audience,” she said, giving me a wink as he led the way out to her car.

Later that night I lay on my back, drifting on a wave of endorphins.  The mattress shifted beside me, bringing me out of my stupor.

“There is something very odd about Declan,” Marianne said suddenly.

“Ouch,” I replied.  “I do my best to rock your world and you’re thinking of a middle school kid?”

“Oh goddess no!” she said, sitting up on one elbow to look at me.  “It’s just that I was thanking the goddess for putting you in my life, which led me to thinking of all that Ashling is teaching me, which made me realize that there is something off about her nephew.”

“That’s the fastest digging out of a deep pit I’ve ever seen.  Points for reaction time,” I said with a chuckle.

“And you’re not commenting,” she said, eyebrow arched.

“Well, I’m not sure I like you saying that my student is off,” I said.

“Not in a bad way.  Not like a sociopath or something.  He’s not creepy.  It’s just how he acts.”

“You mean telling bad jokes or goofing around with his friends?”

“I’ve only heard him tell one joke and I’ve never seen him with his friends, if they even exist.”

“Oh, they exist. But what are you talking about?”

“He’s… careful.  Serious.  And he’s never around when I’m there with Ashling, even on weekends.  Like she’s sent him out on purpose.”

“Well, you are after all, doing witchcraft,” I said.

She gave me a level look.  “That kid grew up with witchcraft, yet I hear nothing about him taking lessons, or showing any interest in it.  How odd is that?  And he is more mature acting than most of my students.”

“He’s a serious kid.  Had some rough things happen to him,” I said.

“True, but you know what I think?” she asked, watching me closely.

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“I think there’s something special about him,” she said.  “Ashling says males make weak witches.  I think he’s a male witch and I think there’s something about him that she’s hiding.  And one last thing… I think you know what it is.”  Then she rolled on her side, her back to me.

I had lunch at Rowan West the next day, closing the shop for an hour break.  Ashling took my news without surprise.

“She’s a canny one,” she said with a nod.  “Darci told me about my boyo too.  Wants to help does he?”

“He understands you’re trying to hide him but thinks that you are actually the only one the witch world would know about, and that you are the one in danger of being found out.”

“He’s not altogether wrong now, is he?” she said.  “And she’s too smart.  Maybe he could teach something at a lower level.”

Two days later was Friday, and we went for dinner.  Ashling hugged us both, giving me an amused look as she pulled back.  “Mari, while yer waiting fer yer dinner, I think me nephew has a lesson or two of his own to share,” she said, waving to Declan, who was clearing a table.  He finished and came over, his face calm and composed, but his eyes bright with interest.

“How about ye show Mari here what we talked about,” Ashling said.

“Yes. Absolutely.  Come on,” he said with sudden energy.

“Declan… take the tray with ye lad.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ashling snorted and waved us both to follow the lanky kid.  He led us all into the kitchen, setting his tray down at the dishwashing station and moving through to the back door.

Right outside the rear of the building the kitchen gardens stretched in both directions.  Declan turned to Marianne, waiting until his aunt closed the door behind herself.

“You’ve likely wondered if I was a witch too?” he asked Marianne.

“I think you are,” she said.

He nodded.  “I have a certain gift for Earth crafting,” he said, waving at the gardens.

“They’re magnificent,” she said.

“Thank you. What I wanted to explain to you was that the gardens you see are the result of something like sixty percent hard work, thirty percent planning, and maybe ten percent crafting.”

“Likely five percent lad,” his aunt said.  “Twas probably ten percent a few years ago, but ye’ve gotten more efficient.”

“Thanks Aunt Ash, both for the assessment and the segue,” he said.

“He uses the word segue,” Marianne said to me, shaking her head.

He looked between us with raised brows but then went on with his lesson.  “My message is about efficiency.  This garden does really well because of my crafting.  But it would likely do pretty well without that craft.  Learning crop rotation, succession planting, soil amending, composting, and a whole bunch of other gardening stuff has allowed me to create a garden that is ready to thrive.  My personal contribution of energy is therefore very small.  Because I take so much time to prepare the ground, that small amount has a big effect, if you see.”

Marianne was smiling, nodding her head.  “You just made an excellent presentation, Declan.  I wish half my teaching assistants could do what you just did.  Your point is well taken and clear, I think.”

“Can you summarize it for me?” he asked.

She gave me another raised brow look and a grin.  “Sure.  Careful preparation is key to crafting efficiently.  Regular hard work can magnify the effect of a small amount of magic.”

“Exactly,” he said, clearly excited that she got the lesson.  “I used to pour a ton of magic,” he started to say, his eyes flicking up to his aunt who was shaking her head in my peripheral vision.

“At least for me, that is,” he amended quickly.  “But I’ve learned I can do much more with less, if I just prepare ahead of time and if I’m very careful when I do.”

She looked over the gardens which were now lit with an orange glow from the setting sun and then turned back to him.

She waved a hand at the vegetation.  “If I can learn to do half of what you’ve done here, using care and preparation, it will be amazing.”

“That’s the big part of it, but there’s another part,” he said.  He glanced at me before looking back at her.  “Levi always says that there are lots of people who are bigger, stronger, faster, meaner, better trained, and better armed than we are.  We need to use every advantage to survive encounters with harmful people of that sort.  Preparing defenses, escapes routes, practicing techniques till they become second nature, and having a plan can make all the difference when we face a bigger predator,” he said.

“Wow, a lesson within a lesson,” she said with sincere surprise.  “You would make a hell of a professor young man.”

He grinned, clearly pleased.

“And now the professor must wash dishes,” Ashling said.

Declan groaned but was still smiling as he headed into the kitchen.

Five minutes later we were back at our table, eating salad.

“Now that I know what to look for, I can literally taste the magic in these greens,” she said, studying a forkful of kale and lettuce.

“Your particular flavor of craft would lend itself well to that, I would think. Water and tasting for magic.”

“Ashling says the same thing.  But this is the first time I’ve done it.”

“Feel better knowing about Declan?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes at me.  “That?  That was dog and pony show in the guise of an excellent lesson.  I think that I have just scratched the surface of what that boy is about,” she said.

I must have frowned because she immediately waved her fork.  “Oh, relax. I’m not going to snoop, and I would never breath a word of anything to anyone.  But my intuition is telling me that that was the tip of the iceberg.  I think I can learn a lot just by watching a seventh-grade kid.”

My own intuition spoke to me so I nodded at her.  “You and me both.”

Chapter 13

“Yer exactly right… it be a dud – magically speaking,” Ashling said, handing me back the thin, worn book that was alleged to be the personal diary of a sixteenth century Catholic saint.  “Book might be his diary but there’s nothing uncanny about it.”

“That’s what I thought,” I said with a sigh.  “I was hoping I was wrong, but that’s how the chips fall, right?”

She shrugged.  “It’s old, that’s fer real.  It was owned by a man of strong conviction, but I can’t say who.”

“Okay, I can work with all that.  There’s the writing expert’s opinion and you’ve confirmed it’s very old.  Still a valuable piece, just a different group of collectors that’s all.”

“What would it bring?” she asked.

“I’m guessing it should go for low to mid four figures.”

She nodded and refilled my coffee.

“Where’s the indentured one?” I asked. Ever since the firewood golem incident I liked to refer to Declan as indentured.  She frowned, not quite a glower.  I held up both hands to show I was kidding.  I knew for a fact that she actually paid the boy, but I had very little ammunition to pick on Ashling with so… there ya go.

“He’s practicing out in the barn,” she said making finger quotes to show what she thought of his practicing.

I must have looked incredulous at the concept of him goofing off on his crafting practice because she shook her head.  “It’s his game.  Maybe some good practice but it’s jest like a drug for the boy.”

“At least he’s outside, sorta.  Most kids his age are either in front of a television or a computer,” I said.

“Ye should go see him. Ye could help him play,” she said.  I studied her to find the catch, but she was serious.  So, I took my coffee mug and headed out to the big barn in the back.

“It’s me,” I said as soon as I opened the door.

A face popped out from behind an immense stack of firewood.  “Levi?  What are you doing here?”

I held up my messenger bag and patted the side.

“Oh, Aunt Ash,” he said with a nod.

“She thought I should come see you play your game thing,” I said.

“Wytch War?” he asked, face suddenly excited. “That’s a great idea.  You can play too,” he said waving for me to follow.  Then he was gone.

I wove through the massive stacks of wood that had elicited my indentured comment, finally arriving at the back of the old barn.  A thirty-foot circle held pride of place; a miniature landscape spread out inside it.

The first time I saw it I thought it was a model.  It was so much more than that.

A six-foot-tall mountain range rose up in the middle of the circle, the peaks capped with actual snow, real rivers flowing down one side to feed first a forest of miniature pine trees and then a grassy plane before diving underground.  On the opposite side the tiny vegetation was sparse up high, and nonexistent near ground level.  Instead, a desert of sand stretched out, complete with arroyos and tiny canyons.  Overhead, dark clouds were roiling, little flashes of lightning illuminating the barn rafters where a chicken-sized dragon clung to a beam and looked down with predatory interest. I knew for a fact that the dragon could fly, breath fire, and that the storm clouds could dump enough rain to flash flood the arroyos.

Declan was waiting for me next to a row of tiny clay men, his face eager enough to remind me he was still half child, despite the powers he commanded.  “I’m not a witch, Dec,” I said gently.

He shook his head and pointed at one miniature man apart from the others.  He called them dirt dudes and they were spelled clay over spell enhanced wire skeletons, magicked to hold form while allowing an amazing amount of lifelike movement.  This one looked pretty much like all the others.

“I’ve come up with a way for anyone to drive one,” he said, beckoning me over.  I knelt down to look closer, and he reached up and in one smooth motion plucked a hair from my head.

“Hey,” I said, mildly alarmed because a witch with your hair is a bad combination.

He waved away my concern, instead bending down to attach the hair to the dirt avatar with a word.  “Now, let’s play,” he said, another dirt dude springing away from the lineup and racing out onto the landscape.

“Ah, how?” I asked.

“Oh, right.  Well, just clear your mind and look at your dude here.  Study him close, notice the details of his hands, arms, and legs.”

Game to play along, I leaned down and did just that, looking the little man over carefully.  The detail was amazing, from articulated fingers right down to the tiny wooden spear which I realized was made from a natural wood pencil.

Then something weird happened.  One moment I’m looking at this thing and the next my vision suddenly blurs and now I’m looking out of it – at a giant wearing my face.

“Now before you lose concentration, turn and look at my guy,” his voice said from kind of everywhere.

Still reeling from the change of view, I turned my head and found I was staring across a grassy plain where a life-sized dirt man was staring back at me.  That’s when I realized I was somehow inside my avatar.  I panicked and was instantly back in my own self, staring down at a clay figure.

“I should have mentioned that you can get out anytime you chose.  In fact, it might take time to learn to stay inside your guy,” he said, watching me with concern.  His avatar fidgeted on the game field, shuffling its feet and spinning its own tiny spear.

“I’ll try it again,” I said, taking a deep breath.  Again, I focused on the details, noticing that my avatar had a tiny bag slung over one shoulder.  “Is that a messenger…?” I started to ask and suddenly found I was looking down at a burlap sack that was held in my clay fingers, “…bag?”

“Of course.  Only the finest of Darci’s stitching for my dirt dudes,” he said.

“Darci stitches?” I asked, trying to visualize such a thing while staring at Declan’s toy man.

“And knits too,” he said, his voice loud and normal sounding, while his dirt dude reached a hand into its own bag and pulled out a wee tiny cap of orange yarn. The mouth never moved, and the crude facial features were frozen.

“Why do you have a cap, and why do we have bags at all?” I asked, realizing that my own voice wasn’t coming from the clay figure I was looking out of.

“To carry stuff, especially spelled stuff,” he said.  “One of the most important rules is that you can’t cast spells while playing. But you can used artifacts of magic, like this,” he said, pulling a rock that had tiny symbols carved on it from his bag.  His dirt dude turned and tossed the pebble that looked the size of a small boulder out into the grassy plain.  The rock bounced once and then somehow started to squirt smoke from somewhere.

“Holy shit,” I said, as I watched his magical smoke bomb create a cloud big enough for both our guys to hide in.

“Doesn’t work if you’re trying to hide from Draco, because I think he sees in infrared ranges.”

“But our dudes are clay?  Aren’t they the same temperature as their surroundings?”

His clay guy shook its head.  “The way they all operate is that I project energy into the game to make everything run.  The rivers, the clouds, the snow, avalanches, you name it.  That same power also drives all the double D’s. The energy makes them a little warmer than the ground.”

“Double D’s?” I asked, cautiously.  He was in middle school and boys were starting to notice girls.

“Dirt Dudes,” he said like there could be no other meaning to double D.

“Got it.  How does that work by the way?”

His avatar moved up close and held up one hand.  The dirt covering it started to fall off, slow at first, but then faster and faster till thick pieces of chrome wire gleamed at me.  “Is that… from a paper clip?” I asked.

“Yes, but never mind that.  Look close at the wire.”

I did.  It was somehow etched with tiny symbols.  “How the hell did you make clear symbols on such a tiny surface?” I asked.

He grinned.  “Pro-prietary process,” he said, stumbling a bit on the word.

“I get it… secret witch stuff,” I said.

His avatar stared blankly at me for a moment before his voice came back.  “You’re not a witch and you wouldn’t steal it anyway,” he said.  “I have a way of writing spells on a larger templet and then transferring it in miniature onto something else.”

“Of course you do,” I said.  “Every junior witch has special secret spells, right?”

“I don’t know because I don’t know any witches… except Marianne and she’s new.  But we all have our own grimoires that we write our own stuff down in, even Marianne.”

“You would think that I would know that? But fix your guy and show me what these things can do.”

His dirt dude (because I wasn’t going to get in the habit of calling them double D’s) squatted down and touched the ground with its skeletal hand.  Instantly dirt formed up around the wires and formed perfect little fingers.  Then it stood up and waved for me to follow.

Declan led me up into the mountains, which from a dirt dude’s perspective looked exactly like real mountains.  But the fun part of the game was you could exert as much effort as you wanted and your avatar never got tired, winded or weak.  However, your very human brain did get tired of playing as I noticed after some time of running, climbing, jumping into canyons, sliding on snow and sparring with pencil spears.  Suddenly, while we were on top of the tallest mountain, I noticed my thoughts were slower, and that I felt a little foggy.

“Oh.  You’re new to this,” Declan said.  “Brain fog.  It’s your brain trying to make sense of the input from a much different perspective, while still running your human body.  Or at least that’s what Aunt Ash thinks.”

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Well, when I just asked you if you wanted to slide or ski down the mountain, your answer was purple.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.  It gets better with practice,” he said.  “But now I can show you what the orange caps are for.  You have one too.”

I looked into my tiny gear bag and sure enough, a little orange cap lay nestled at the bottom.

“So I get that you use magic to make tiny things, but how does Darci do these?”

“She’s a very skilled knitter, but when she gets them as small as possible, we shrink them,” he said.

“More magic.”

“No, water and heat,” he said, putting his cap on his dude’s head.  My own pulled on smoothly and I looked back at him expectantly.  He stared back, expressionless because, well, dirt face, but then his voice rang out.  “Draco?” he called.

High overhead something stirred among the puffy white clouds that had replaced the storm clouds after what Declan told me was a regular daily downpour.  Suddenly a loud screech sounded, and the clouds parted to reveal an immense dragon form swooping down on us at incredible speed.  The massive flyer back winged to a landing, its huge talons gripping the summit of what Declan called Mount O’Carroll.

“Come on, he’ll give us ride down,” Declan said, his dude running for the dragon who was eyeing me like lunch. “The orange hats tell him that we aren’t prey but allies,” he said as his character swarmed up the side of the dragon.

I followed behind, knowing it was a game, but slower because Draco was very intimidating.

“Levi, come on.  It’s fine,” he said.

I climbed up and sat on the dragon’s back, copying Declan by sitting between two of the spines on the reptile’s back.  My avatar was no sooner sitting down when Draco launched from the peak, soaring out into the air over the forested slope below.  “How am I hanging on?” I asked, because there was nothing to grip on the dragon’s back.

“Spells, of course,” he said.  Draco flew out to the edge of the game space, and two immense forms seemed to explode into view.  One was as tall as a mountain and the other smaller.  I realized it was us, our living human bodies, and I was seeing them from Draco’s perspective.

The ride was short, and the dragon landed smoothly by the edge of the game where the rest of the quiescent dirt dudes waited in rows.  Giant blue jean clad legs stood directly in front of me, and a massive hand came down from above to scratch the dragon’s chin. Declan’s avatar climbed off the dragon, and I followed.  As soon as my feet touched the ground, I was back in my own body, looking down at two frozen dirt dudes and one small dragon.

“What do you think?  Cool right?” he asked.

“Oh, this blows all video games away for all time,” I said.  “No wonder you like to use this as magic practice.”

“Well, I have to constantly fix spells on gear, double D’s and the game site, plus there’s new magical devices to dream up and make,” he said. “Aunt Ash thinks it’s goofing off, but I learn a lot every game.”

“And you’re going to learn even more, because I think we can use this to practice escape, evasion, and defense tactics.  If we had more players, we could form teams and do small unit drills,” I said.

“We can run up to three, maybe four, dudes each if we link them,” he said. “At least once you get the hang of it.”

“Declan this changes everything,” I said, my mind whirling with possibilities.

“As long as you’re the one to explain it to Aunt Ash.  She already thinks I spend too much time out here.”

“I will at that,” I said.  And I did.

Chapter 14

Ashling gave me a long level look when I explained that I wanted to use Wytch War to train her boy.  Then she laughed out loud.  I shot a look at Darci, but she just shrugged and looked at her life partner.

Ashling waved a hand at me, still laughing, to moderate the offense.  “’Tis a good way to teach the lad some of yer solder ways and all.  I was laughing because it’ll be a lesson fer ye too.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I learned really quick… and kept learning.  The kid was a freaking menace on the War pitch.

The first thing we did was one-on-one escape and evasion.  My avatar could see the ground well enough for me to see tracks and sign, so I hunted him down. I correctly anticipated he would circle back to ambush me and therefore caught him badly – once.  He asked for a ten-minute preparation break before we went again.  “Sure, take ten, smoke em if ya got em,” I joked.  He totally didn’t get the reference, so I had to explain it.  It was lost in translation, dead on arrival.  Anyway, he huddled on the far side of the mountain range and was back in nine minutes.

This time I followed his tracks up the mountain till they suddenly disappeared.  Alert for an ambush I searched in an expanding circle but found nothing for ten minutes.  Finally, at a distance that if scaled up, would easily equal a kilometer, I found a track.  No sooner did I start to follow it then his voice came loud and clear.  “Safe.”

Pulling out of my avatar I found his dirt dude was back at the starting line which was his goal for this exercise.  “How did you do it?  No magic I hope?” I asked, mildly annoyed.

He just grinned and shook his head.  “Trade secret.”

“Okay let’s go again, but with two changes – the new goal line is to a timed one, let’s make it twenty minutes.  Oh, and your head start is cut in half, down to one minute.”

“Okay,” he agreed, lifting my avatar back to the starting line with a thought and wave of his hand.

“Ready?  Go,” I said.

His dude took off like a bullet, following the same track as the first time.  When a minute had elapsed on my watch I followed at a brisk pace.  His tracks were clear and steady, past the spot I had lost him before and right up to the spot I had recovered his original trail.  Then it was gone.  A flat-out sprint without any attempt to cover his path and then suddenly gone, mid-step.

I was standing high up one of the nearer mountains, on a trail that cut over a shoulder with a sheer drop off one side and a high steep cliff on the other.  The game pitch was made from local soil, rocks and some strategically placed construction debris.  This cliff was actually a cinder block, on its end, embedded in the dirt side of the mountain at a near vertical pitch.  It was almost ten times the height of my avatar and the smooth concrete didn’t provide even a toehold for dirt dude feet.  But there was a pebble on the trail, a smooth rock that sat on the side of the trail nearest the cliff.

I checked the trail for the equivalent of three hundred feet, then backtracked and checked the down slope side.  I climbed down until the big dropoff that looked like hundreds of feet down at this scale.  The climb back up took a bit and I thought things over as I went.

The boy had sprinted flat out till the trail disappeared at the cliff. The only thing odd was the pebble.  I bent down and looked at it.  Son of a bitch.  There were faint sigils all over it in what looked like pencil markings.  A magical artifact.  But what did it do?

“Time!” Declan called, snapping me out of my avatar.

I blinked a few times and turned to him.  “What was the pebble?”

“Jump rock,” he said with a grin. “Earth magic.  Like a springboard on steroids.  I jumped up to the top of the cliff.”

“What about the first run?  The tracks that disappeared?” I asked.

“I copied one of Aunt Ash’s cleaning spells.  Wiped away the tracks.”

“From memory?” I asked.

“Yeah.  I remember most spells if I see them,” he said.  “I put it on another pebble. Pretty cool huh?”

“Yeah, but how did you pull off an Air spell?”

He shrugged and got busy with looking the avatars over for damage.  I almost pressed him on it but then left off.  Could he have three of the magic elements? Was that even possible?

In hindsight it was like an adult picking up a modern computer game controller and thinking they could teach children who had grown up with the damned thing in their hands.

It got a little better when I learned to run two other linked avatars along with my main dude.  Once I had the basics down, I proceeded to teach Declan about small unit tactics including flanking.  I got in two wins but that was it.  Again, with preparations tucked in their little bags, his dudes quickly countered my soldiers and either fought me to a draw or won.  That’s with me having access to the same magical artifacts.  He would prepare batches of several kinds, we would each load up from them and then go about our mayhem. He just had a crazy knack for applying each artifact ingeniously – outside of the box stuff.

I was quickly able to teach him about concepts like kill zones, area denial, high ground advantage, enfilade, defilade, overwatch and sniper effectiveness.  Those last four all require ranged weapons, but damned if he didn’t have little spelled sections of drinking straws that fired dried peas with authority.  And that very last concept, using snipers as a force multiplier, he came up with on his own, I just explained it afterward.

See, I could run three dudes, fairly well, if they were in close proximity to each other.  The linked bit worked because he spelled each subordinate dude with some limited preset commands that they could follow almost autonomously. Like watch this area and fire if someone enters.  That was called guard. Another was all attack, where they would follow the leader and attack other combatants as they appeared on the battlefield.  But Declan was able to send one off on its own mission, as I found out one day when I thought I had forced him into a hasty retreat.  My three men were chasing his guys, but I didn’t realize that he was only using two.  I learned that when my lead dude took pea fire from an elevated rock shelf on a hillside as we ran through a canyon.  The game’s magical coding froze up any player who took what would be considered a lethal or incapacitating wound.  My main dude was running between my two subordinates when he locked up and fell to the ground, victim of a well-placed pea.  Without the leader the two subs were quickly flanked and killed off when Declan’s two-man force wheeled around and came back, supported by the sniper.

Later, I lay awake far into the night, realizing what he could do.  With dirt, wire, sticks and clay, he could form earthen robots that could follow complex commands, utilize magical senses and execute acts of violence.  Any and every spy master in the world would give their firstborn for just those abilities.  Those little clay men were an assassin’s wet dream.  Any target could be attacked and killed by a tiny infiltrator wielding a poison coated pin.  Or hidden inside a potted gift plant, like a mini Trojan horse.

Not to mention that Declan could and had made explosive pebbles.  Ashling required them to be no more than a firecracker in power, but he could literally pick up a stone, draw on it for a few minutes and the damned thing could act as a proximity mine, grenade, timed or contact explosive, or fail safe. A necklace of jewels spelled like that would be undetectable without another witch’s aide. And here I was teaching him to get better, to become more effective.

I visited Ashling early the next day, which happened to be a Saturday. After explaining my doubts, I sat back, sipping coffee, and waited for her condemnation.

“Levi, dear man, do ye no understand just what he can do?” she asked after three second pause.  “When he learned that his had mother died, he shook the earth so hard it registered as an earthquake at the university. With a thought he could create a firestorm the likes of which ye’ve never seen.”

“What can he do with air?” I asked.  She sucked in a little breath and studied me for a moment.

“Why would ye ask that?”

“Because I’ve seen him copy a spell of yours and have it work very well.  One of your cleaning spells.”

She held my gaze as she processed that.  Then she gave a little nod. “He is unlike any the world has ever known.  Yes, he has at least the third power.”

“At least?”

She nodded.  “His wee dragon is an Air elemental that moved into a shell constructed of perfectly crafted air spells.  I suspect, although I’ve not seen sign of it yet, that he may yet have Water too.  Time will tell.”

“You mean it may come as he ages?”

“Aye,” she said with a nod. “Witches generally grow into their powers.  Most around puberty.”

“Wait, he’s been powerful well before his voice started to change?”

“He was powerful in the crib,” she corrected.  “We had to circle the wee lad just to keep him contained.  At least until he learned to break our circles.”

I must have looked horrified because her expression got anxious, and maybe a little mad.  “Oh, now yer scared of me boy?”

I had learned through both observation and from Declan that her brogue got thicker the more upset she was.

“No, I mean, I know he electrocuted that perv with a car battery, but I guess I didn’t think he was a weapon of mass destruction.”

Her stare was now level and hard.  “Did it no occur to you that I might be such a thing as well?  Have ye seen a tornado up close Levi?”

I held up both hands.  “Ashling, I knew you were dangerous almost from the beginning.  It just that he’s only a kid.”

She nodded.  “Exactly why he requires you, me, and Darci.  What if he grew up without mentors? What if he was taken by a government spy agency?”

“Look, you’re both dangerous.  So is Darci for that matter and so am I.  But the difference is that Darci and I could be taken out by other operators.  But should anyone have the power to take out a town with a thought?”

“Should or shouldn’t is beyond the likes of you and I, Levi.  He is what is because the goddess wills it be.  And he is the way he is because he has a destiny that rings loud in me ears.”

“But what if he loses his temper?”

“Exactly why we teach him as we do.  Right now you be worried because he be too good at what you teach?”

“It’s not his Krav training.  I mean, he does well at that but he’s not like a natural Bruce Lee or something.  And it’s not like he’s a master strategist.  It’s more at the tactical level.  The way he thinks, the way he solves problems.”

“He’s a smart lad, and he be a born witch.  We think of the world different.  We be connected to it in ways you are not.”

“And he is a next level witch,” I said.

She snorted.  “At least,” she said. “Think of it this way, Levi.  If he were bad at what ye teach, he would be prey.  For other circles, for governments.  He is not here for them.”

“How do you know?  How do you know why he is so important?”

“Part of me skills and part of being especially close to herself.”

“The goddess?”

“Of course.  Goddess, Mother Earth, Terra, it don’t matter the name.  We are sworn to her and he is especially hers.”

I dwelt on that for a moment and her expression softened.  “Do me a wee favor and take this platter of food out to his metal castle.  His friends slept over, and they be playing games.  Go visit and see yer menace in action.”

I took the metal pan of bacon, sausages, eggs and pancakes out to his container.  His friends Jonah and Rory were playing a video game while Declan called out comments.  They left off in mid-play when I set the food down, descending upon it like gangly vultures.

“Who’s winning?” I asked.

“The Tessing Terror has the current lead,” Declan said with a grin and nod at little Rory.

“I’m just lulling him into over confidence,” Jonah said.  Two complete opposites, those boys, at least physically.  Jonah was already tall, taller than Declan by an inch and he towered over little Rory.  Jonah was dark brown, and Rory was white as snow, but according to Declan they were both geeks.

“What about you Dec?  Any shot at the title?” I asked.

“We don’t let him play,” Rory said, completely serious as he munched bacon.

“He cheats,” Jonah said, nodding.

“I don’t cheat,” Declan said.  “The games just sometimes help me out is all.”

I raised a brow.

“On account of his wizardly ways,” Rory said, snatching a sausage out from under Jonah’s fingers. Jonah was looking at him incredulously.  “What?  You think Levi doesn’t know?  After all the training and everything?” Rory asked Jonah.

“They know about my affinity for electronics,” Declan said, his eyes flashing me a warning.

But maybe not about all the other stuff he could do and obviously not about Wytch War.

“That doesn’t bother you?” I asked.

“That our best friend can read computers by touching them?” Rory asked me in disbelief.  “You understand that we’re easily gonna take the state robot championships and should be a shoe in for nationals – every year. Till we graduate.  And anytime the boneheads bully us in school their precious phones go tits up.”

“Tits up?” Declan asked Rory.

“My uncle says that sometimes,” he said, glancing at me to see how I was handling the off-color slang.

“So it’s like having Chuck Norris on your side?” I asked.

Jonah snorted and Rory just stared at me like I was clueless. Declan smirked.

“Chuck Norris doesn’t sleep – he waits,” Jonah said.

“Chuck Norris’s roundhouse kicks are so powerful, they can be seen from space,” Rory responded.

“Since 1940, the year Chuck was born, roundhouse kick related deaths are up 13,000 percent,” Declan added.

I picked up the empty food dish and turned for the door before glancing back.  “On the seventh day God rested… Chuck Norris took over.”

I left to ohhs and ahhs, smiling.

Chapter 15

He was distracted enough during our regularly scheduled Wednesday afternoon Wytch War game that I was able to evade his hunters and even ambush one of them.  However, the loss of one man fired up his competitive nature and I found myself in a hell of a fight after he threw a magic grenade uphill, above my overwatch and triggered an avalanche that took out my security.

When I tried to lure him into a trap, he surprised me by running right through the ambush at full speed, which caused me to miss otherwise easy shots.  His men got into close quarters battle range, and we ended up in a draw when all four survivors died at each other’s’ clay hands.

“Wow, you are seriously off your game,” I said with a smirk.

He frowned, looking at the game model, but seemingly far away.

“What’s up bud?” I asked.

“There’s a new girl in school,” he said slowly.

“Oh, and she’s pretty?”

“No.  I mean it’s not what you’re thinking.  She’s okay, but that’s not the problem,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” I admitted, frowning.  New girl problems usually equaled awkward attraction.

“She’s a nerd, like us,” he said.

“And?”

“She’s trying to join our group,” he said, feet shuffling from side-to-side.

“And?” I asked.

“What if she messes it up?”

I pondered that for a few seconds till realization flooded my brain.  “You three amigos have been buddies for a while, right?”  He nodded.  “And you think another person might screw that up?”

“She’s a girl.  What if Rory decides he likes her?  What if she wants to date Jonah?”

“I see,” I said.  And I did.  Declan had two close friends.  His social network was small but stable, until now.  “Tell me about her?”

He nodded, understanding that I was gathering information before trying to problem solve.

“She started yesterday.  She’s smart, real smart, which is cool, but she’s a serious overachiever.  She’s in all the advanced classes, mostly with us, but she’s also joining just about every club the school offers… and she’s getting a book published.”

“What?  Really?” I asked.

He nodded.  “She’s fluent in Spanish, and she wrote a kids book in both English and Spanish.  Got an agent and everything.”

“Well, so far she sounds pretty cool.  How do you know all this?”

“She told us.  See, yesterday she sat by herself at lunch.  But today she picked our table.  She said it was because there were open seats which there always are.  But then she started talking and talking and told us all about herself.  She wants to get into an Ivy League college and plans on using the book money to pay for it.”

“Wow, she sounds like she’s got her act together,” I said, impressed.

“Oh, she does, way more than we do.  I mean we’re all planning on college but we’re still in seventh grade.  My school counselor told me to take advanced classes so I could do the Advanced Placement classes and other college credit classes in high school.  That’s as far as I’ve gotten and its way beyond the other idiots in my grade.  But Candace is already building a record of extra-curricular excellence as she calls it.  She’s joining every club in sight – including the robotics club.”

“Sounds like a great white shark just entered the Castlebury Middle School,” I said. Then I remembered something Rory had said.  “And she knows you guys go to the state robotics competition every year?” I guessed.

“Not only that, but she knows that the three of us are the reason why we win,” he said in a rush.  “She admitted it.”

“What does she want to study in college?” I asked.

“She says she’s interested in several majors.  Computer engineering or something about artificial intelligence and its effects on society.”

“This girl sounds like a stick of dynamite,” I said, scratching my head.

“She’s kind of awkward. Blurts stuff out.  She’s not ugly and she’s not overly pretty, and she dresses kind of plain, at least for a girl.  Jeans and t-shirts. People might kind of ignore her, until they hear all her plans.”

“Well, if I was trying to plan for college and was going to study computers or AI then getting onto a championship robotics team would look really good on my application,” I said, thinking it through.  “How are Rory and Jonah handling her arrival?”

“Well, Jonah’s impressed with her plans, but then he’s working toward an athletic scholarship. He’s really good at soccer,” Declan said.  “Rory was really annoyed, and then I think, a bit intimidated.  But he’s got parents with money, and since they both work at UVM he can go there for free.  He’s always saying that it’s his fall-back college.  But Levi, what should we do?”

“Do?  I don’t know… take lessons from her maybe?  She sounds like she’s got her act together.  I know you want college too, so maybe take a few pages from her play book?”

“But what about my friends?” he asked.

“Well, Jonah’s already got his soccer buddies, yet he still hangs out with you and Rory, right?”

“Yeah, and some of the popular girls kind of like him I think,” he admitted.

“And if I know Rory, I bet he’s more worried about your liking the girl or her liking you.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because she’s new, doesn’t know your rep, and you are, by all accounts, the robot stud,” I said.

“No, she already heard stuff about me,” he said, scratching his head.

“How?  She’s been there like two days,” I asked.

“Girl’s bathroom.  Said that some of Jessica’s friends were talking about me and they didn’t know anyone else was in there.  Said she got anxious about a new school, so she chilled in a stall with her feet up for a few minutes.”

“Wow she does kind of over share doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, it’s awkward.  Anyway, Chloe Bledsoe was talking about her Halloween party this year and Elle Resner said she should invite me so I could do scary witch stuff.”

“She said that?  Scary witch stuff?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’m more worried about that than Candace whatshername,” I said.

“Ricci.  Her last name is Ricci.  Elle once asked me if I was a wizard or a witch, but Jessica shut her down.  I’m not worried.”

“What did Candace say about you being a witch?”

“She doesn’t believe in witches.  She said she asked another girl about the rumors and that girl told her that it was because I was so good at fixing computers and technology.  Told her that Elle was superstitious.  Candace thinks she’s just stupid.”

“Okay. Well, dude, I think you should get to know this girl before you get all worried about her.  She’s smart, nerdy, got her shit together and could teach you a few things about college admissions.  Give her a chance,” I said.  “It’s not like you have twenty friends to juggle.  Maybe one more is a good thing?”

He thought about that then turned to the avatars, waving his hands to fix the damage we had inflicted on each other’s dirt dudes.  We played again and I lost.

Thursday was our regular krav class, so I figured I’d get an update on this disruptive force of nature known as Candace Ricci.

“Ready for a good workout?” I greeted him.

“Yeah,” he said, throwing his book bag against the wall of the studio.  He was wearing loose cargo pants and a t-shirt, so he was ready to go.  We train in regular street clothes because that’s what we’ll likely be wearing if trouble rears its head.

As we warmed up, I looked him over.  He noticed and raised both brows. “Well?  How is the new girl?”

“Still awkward.  She talked to us about all of our winning robot designs at lunch today, and I mean all of them.  Apparently, she spoke to our robotics coach, Mr. Greenly, and got every detail on every robot.”

“I’m beginning to really admire this girl,” I said.

“Really?” he asked, frowning.

“Really.  She’s determined, focused, attentive to detail, and smart enough to ferret out the best tech people in the school in two days.  Now show me the flow drill,” I said.

He started to run through the steps of mayhem, working from muscle memory as he was clearly thinking about my words.

“How did she act today?  Bossy? Trying to win Rory or Jonah to her side?”

He shook his head as he flashed a foot toward my groin, stopping the strike before impact.  “No, not bossy and not flirty. She’s way too awkward for that.  She just kind of acts like its only logical for us to accept her.”

“Maybe it is,” I said, watching his technique closely. “Plus, it might do you guys good to have a girl around.  I mean, that is if you ever want to have a girlfriend, it might be a good idea to get to know the female of the species.”

“Jonah said something like that.  He’s probably got a shot a dating, but like us he doesn’t know squat about girls.”

“So, it’s settled.  Congratulations on having a new friend.  Now get ready to spar.”

Chapter 16

“So he’s doing well, is he?” Ashling kept her eye on Declan even as she asked.

“He’s learned all the basic strikes, kicks and throws.  He knows how to escape multiple holds, both upright and on the ground, and has learned techniques against attacks with stick, knife and gun.  His sparring is coming along, especially as he’s learned to be more aggressive.  He knows a number of chokes and arm bars as well as how to defend against them.  He’s got very good reflexes but overthinks sometimes.  As time goes on and he continues his practice, his responses will become ingrained.  His grasp of evasion and escape tactics is solid, and he has a flare for thinking outside the box, but sometimes takes too big of a risk,” I responded.

“Well, lad, hear that?  Ye take chances, ye do,” she said to her nephew.

“But…,” he said, holding up one finger, “that doesn’t make me a chancer.”

“No, that be more your friend Trey’s cup o’ tea,” she agreed.

“He’s not my friend.”

“No, no he isn’t,” Ashling said. “How’s his marksmanship, Darci dear?”

“Good.  Solid,” she said.  “It takes a lot of rounds down range to build the muscle memory for grip and trigger control, especially trigger reset, but he knows his way around pistols, revolvers, shotguns and rifles.  Haven’t gotten to long range shooting yet as we’re still building on the basics.”

“That’s grand then.  Now, lad, how about yer crafting defenses?”

“Ah, fine, I guess,” he said.

“Ye guess do ye?  Yer learning to beat people up and shoot hooligans, yet yer not certain about facing down another witch?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know any witches but you and Marianne.  I train with Levi, mostly, but I did get to spar with some other people at that martial arts festival he took me to in Saratoga.  I’ve shot with some of the deputies so I can gauge how much I need to get better but how do I do that with witches when there aren’t any?”

“Hmm, yer right.  We’ll have to find an answer to that, but fer now let’s step outside and ye can show me what kind of mischief ye’ve taught yerself.”

All four of us trooped out to the gardens which were long past their summer glory.  Most of the vegetables had come and gone, Declan having cleaned up most of the beds, layering his compost on top to replenish depleted nutrients over the coming winter.  Aside from the cold frames of greens, herbs, and cold weather vegetables, the only things still in the gardens were pumpkins and squash. Some of the remaining specimens from those plants were looking a bit past prime.

“We need to harvest the rest of that, or we’ll be losing them fer sure,” Ashling noted as she looked over Declan’s gardens.

“Yeah, Merry’s already frozen the best stuff.  She said to use these for decorations or donate them to the food bank,” Declan answered, referring to Ashling’s chef.

“Well, a couple are going to be yer targets this morning,” Ashling said.  “Show me something new, lad,” she said with a wave at an acorn squash.

“Seems a waste,” he said, glancing at her uncertainly.

“Seems ye be stalling lad,” she replied with a frown.

His brows went up at her challenge and I saw his you asked for it look take over.

Without another word he turned to the squash in question.  Nothing happened for a second and then the entire thing vaporized in a spray of fine green mist.  None of it got on us because it was far away, but green slime coated the soil for a few square yards around the empty space it had occupied.

“Holy shit,” Darci muttered, expression shocked.  “What did you do to it?”

“I heated the insides really quickly.  The water in it turned to steam and it over pressured,” he answered.

“Over pressured into absolute paste,” Darci said.  “You must have boiled the water inside its cells.”

“Yeah, at first ,when I tried it, there were big chunks, but I figured it would compost into the soil faster if I made the damage finer. It takes a moment or two to set up the thermal energy and then release it all at once, so I would probably use a kinetic punch or fire before I tried this.  It’s too slow.”

“Aye lad, you’d explode a man to jest mist,” Ashling said, clearly disturbed. “What else have ye got?” she asked, pointing at a pumpkin.

He stared at the orange orb for a relatively long time, maybe six or seven seconds before it exploded into big chunks, a few of which froze in mid-air in front of the witch and his aunt.

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Darcia asked.

“No, this time I pumped air into the center until it over pressured.  The squash explosion was heat, water to steam, and this was just air pumping through the skin.”

“Would be even easier with a breathing creature – one with lungs,” Ashling said, shaking her head.  “Deadly but slow.  Although it be good practice for yer shields, lad.”

“It’s kind of the only way to practice shields. I mean I did use a baseball pitching machine at Jonah’s house one time when no one was around.  That was fun, but otherwise it’s just lawn sprinklers and Roman candles.”

Ashling snapped around to stare at her nephew, but he didn’t notice as he was pulling the floating pumpkin chunks from mid-air and tossing them around the garden.  “Ye’ve found interesting ways to teach yerself.  Perhaps we should buy one of those football machines?”

“Baseball, Aunt Ash,” he said patiently.  “To tell you the truth, when I have Draco hold Roman candles in his mouth and shoot them at me as he flies, it’s better practice.”

“And ye do this in a wooden barn filled with firewood do ye?” she asked.

“Sounds bad when you say it that way, but I absorb all the fire from the candle balls Aunt Ash, and we’re inside the game circle.  It’s worse when I have Draco breath fire at me but that’s inside the circle too.”

“I ken jest hear the insurance adjuster now – Ye say yer nephew was playing with dragons?”

“Aunt Ash!” Declan said, exasperated.  “Nothing can burn down if I’m there,” he said.  It was odd how he emphasized the first word and not himself. Ashling nodded though so he was most likely right.

“What if you fall and hit your head?” Darci said.  “Get knocked out?”

He looked at her for a minute.  It was clear he had never thought of that.

“I didn’t think about that.  I suppose Draco would pull me out, but maybe I should put in some suppression wards, huh Aunt Ash?”

“Yer mother did long ago when we sank our life savings into this place.  But it would be a very good idea to redo them,” Ashling said.  “But as far as yer spell training, since ye won’t spar with me …,” she said, eyebrows going up in question form.  He shook his head.

“Why won’t you spar, Dec?” I asked.

He pointed at the spot that until recently had held a squash.  “It’s like having a practice shootout with live ammo.”

“We had a pitch in Ireland with proper spells on it,” Ashling said.  “We could throw awful stuff at each other and not hurt or kill anyone. Nothing like that here.”

She studied Declan for a moment before nodding to herself.  “So here’s the thing… I’ll be hexing and cursing ye, here at home. Leaving spells that are practical jokes ye see.  Itchy pants, pop out boogymen, rotten smells and the like.  Ye have to check and recheck everything; yer books, clothes, backpack, room, the barn, yer lunch even.”

“What about pranking you back?” he asked.

“We’ll see.  Maybe later on, but first I want ye on yer guard.  It was a tradition in me village to try and outspell each other with prank hexes.  Teaches witches to be careful, to take apart traps, and to work counter spells.  But it’s not deadly.  But don’t get cocky lad.  I was one of the best as a girl and I haven’t forgotten a thing.  How does it sound?”

“It sounds like fun,” he said with an excited grin.

“Well, we’ll see, we will,” she said.

Two days later he arrived at my shop, ready for a lesson.  He bent down to open his bag of sparring gear and there was a loud bang and black smoke rose up toward the ceiling only to disappear.  He turned and looked at me, face stricken.

“What’s the matter?”

Without a word of answer, he reached into his bag and pulled out his padding – it was all hot pink.  “I can’t wear this?” he said.

“Yes, you can.  You have to.  She got you and until you can turn it back you wear it. A teachable moment.”

He put it on, and I almost fell down I was laughing so hard.  Then I took a picture and sent it to Ashling.  Her response was a recording of a cackling laugh.

The boy frowned; his pride wounded.  But he never said a word, instead taking up a fighting stance.

I was tempted to laugh some more, but then I remembered that the skinny boy in pink fighting gear could explode a man with a thought.  “So… what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to check every damned thing and every damned place all the time.  And I’m going to change this back,” he said, his eyes hard. “And someday it’ll be my turn to set the pranks.”

“Okay, let’s spar,” I said, noting to myself that if she ever allowed him to prank her back, she might get more than she bargained for.  I told her as much when I saw her a few days later.

“Aye, we’ll need rules, or it’ll get out of hand,” she said.  “But it’ll be good for him.”

“The other day, when he said he used sprinklers and Roman candles, you looked at him weird.  Why?”

She looked at me for a long moment.  “Blocking fire or balls be second nature to a fire and earth witch.  I’ve seen the dragon blowing flames on him.  He jest sucks it up like you with Merry’s clam chowder.  But he shouldn’t be able to block water, not without using fire or earth.”

“What about him using air to blow up that pumpkin?”

“Oh ye caught that did ye?”

“He’s got all four doesn’t he?”

She frowned but nodded.  “Aye Levi, he does.  No witch has ever had three.  He has four.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“I told ye.  He’s a gift from the goddess.”

“To whom?”

“I don’t know, Levi.  Maybe to her own self.”

Chapter 17

His sparring gear stayed pink for a week, and his bookbag matched it by Friday.  But by the end of that weekend, everything was back to original colors.

She never caught him with a color change again, but she did get him with a spell on his deodorant that made it not only fail, but actually smell worse than no deodorant at all.  He was, of course, horrified when his friend Candace pointed it out to him.  The idea of smelling like body odor among his classmates had a pronounced effect on him.  He became a little paranoid, using runes written on his hands to check everything and everyone around him.  His personal stuff became quickly covered with protective runes, including a number done with transparent or invisible ink.

“Damn it!” Ashling swore one afternoon as I read my emails at the table in their apartment. She had just come from Declan’s container room and her outburst caught my immediate attention.  She rarely cursed, but when she did it was usually something new and inventive that I hadn’t heard before. This was lame but heartfelt.

I knew she had been trying to put a curse on Declan’s desk chair, so I figured she had run into trouble.

“Tricky lad carved runes into it before I could,” she said, looking under his desk, lamp, and bed in rapid order.  “He’s done them all.”

“What about his clothes?” I asked.

“He’s warded his dresser and closet.  I can probably break them, but he’ll know instantly.  He even does his own laundry now.”

“What else are you planning?” I asked.

“Well, he stopped eating food from the apartment altogether.  He’ll only use the restaurant kitchen because we made that off limits.  Soooo, it be time for the next level.”

“Yeah, I noticed him with a shopping bag of food the other day.  Is it possible to go too far with this?” I asked. “And what’s the next level?”

“He needs to learn to defend himself from all kinds of magic.  The next level is behavior magic.”

“Behavior magic?  Like changing someone’s behavior?”

“Exactly.  Like the hypnotist that gets people clucking like chickens. Sometimes called suggestion magic.”

“How do you use it if he won’t touch anything you give him?” I asked.

“Easy,” she said, with a level stare. “I have ye give it to him.”

I sucked in a short breath.  “You want me to deliberately break his trust?” I asked carefully.  “It took quite a while for me to earn it.”

“He can’t be a trusting sort,” she said.  “I’m breaking his trust… hell I’ve already broken it, but do you think he hates me?”

“No, but let me ask you this… what sort of behavior are you going to change?  If you embarrass him too much with his peers, you might not like the results.”

“Now Levi dear, don’t be thinking that I’m looking to make a monster of the boy.  I’m teaching lessons, I am.  And I’m not wanting to break yer relationship.  But he needs to ken what can go wrong.”

I couldn’t honestly think that she would ever hurt him.  He was, for all intents, like her own son.  But I also knew she was deadly serious about teaching him to survive all threats.

“Alright.  I’ll do it,” I said.  “What do I need to do?”

She nodded and told me, and I felt simultaneously both relieved and concerned.

Two nights later he came into the workout studio as I prepared for our lesson.  “Stretch, hit the bag for some warmup then grab those batons.  We have only forty minutes to ourselves, then a couple of my regular customers are bringing their daughters in for a self-defense class. You will help me with that as your first teaching assignment.”

He did and we did, and the self-defense class, which was my first foray into teaching others besides him was, in my own humble opinion, a success.  Overall, he did well, patiently acting as a bad guy or when it was my turn to be the villain, advising the girls on the best technique to escape a full-grown man.

The next day he appeared in my shop, after school, his expression serious and cold.  “What’s up?” I asked, although I pretty much knew.

He tilted his head and studied me like he didn’t know me and didn’t care to know me.

“The batons?” he asked.

I reached under the counter and pulled them out, wrapped in silk.  Pulling the silk open I showed him the rattan sticks that looked just like every other stick in my collection.  Handing him a pencil I let him turn the sticks till he spotted the runes that were not standard.

He studied them and then grunted.

“What happened?” I asked quietly.

“I stood up on the table at lunch and rapped,” he said without looking up from the escrima sticks.  He said it evenly and without hesitation, like it was no big deal.  But I knew him well enough to know it was a huge deal.  Declan didn’t do things in public – ever.  Public speaking was so not his thing.  Drawing attention in the cafeteria was likely worse than death in his mind.

“Ah, what did you rap?”

“Part of Eminiem’s Rap God song.  The really fast part,” he said, looking up at me.

“How’d it go over?”

“Nobody knew what the hell to do. They all just looked at me, shocked. Couple of kids said I did alright though.”

“So, by putting a few runes on those sticks she somehow programmed you to rap in the lunchroom?”

He shook his head.  “She couldn’t know what I would do.  The runes, when strung together this way, suggest to the receiver that they do something out of their normal comfort zone.  But it’s a really strong suggestion. Likely the self-defense teaching last night helped implant a suggestion for me to seek more attention.  It hit me suddenly, like it was the best idea in the world. Why did you do it?” he asked at the end, looking at me, his expression wounded.

“Because just like I test you on how to survive a physical attack, your aunt is testing you on surviving another witch’s magical attack.  What would happen if she had written runes that suggested that you fry someone?”

He shook his head.  “I don’t think they would work.  I know right from wrong.”

“What if they twisted your perception of who you were burning?  Made them appear as something you wouldn’t hesitate to burn, like say… a rapist?”

He opened his mouth to protest but froze as his brain caught up.  His eyes got wide, and he went a little pale.

I nodded.  “She said you’d realize how that could be done,” I said.  “All of our training together, all of your work with Darci, all of the combat spells you’ve come up with would be for nothing… worse than nothing, if you got twisted by some tricky runes.”

He sighed, deflating like a blow-up yard Santa after Christmas.  “I’m just so tired of checking everything wherever I go and now I can’t trust even you,” he said.

It was my turn to sigh.  “Do you trust me when we spar?” I asked.

“No.  You always say that if someone isn’t cheating, they’re not trying.”

“Well, there are times when you can trust me and times when you can’t trust me.  A competition of hexing between you and Ashling is one of the no trust ones.  Of course, that means that she shouldn’t trust me either.”

He looked at me sharply, a furrow between his eyes.  “You mean when I’m allowed to strike back?”

I handed him an envelope from under the counter.  Or at least I tried to hand it to him.  He pointed at the countertop, and I set it down.  Then he waved a hand over it and when nothing happened, he waved again flipping it over.  Then after looking around to make sure nobody was looking in through the shop windows, he held one hand over it and spread out his fingers.  The envelope tore itself open.  The letter inside unfolded without him touching it and he paused to read it.

“I can fight back now?” he asked, even though Ashling’s letter already told him that.

“Yup,” I said.  “She told me that after your first bout of suggestive magic, it was only fair for you to have counter strike ability.  But remember… nothing that will be actually harmful or reveal your abilities to the public.”

A slow evil smile spread across his face.

“That’s scary right there,” I said, pointing at his expression.

“Mawahahaha,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

Nothing happened for three days.  On the fourth day without a response, I was eating lunch in the restaurant when I heard Ashling come out of the kitchen.  I looked up to see her standing, looking out over a busy lunch crowd, wiping her hands on a towel.  She glanced at me, ran a hand through her hair and waved before stepping toward me.

“Oh shit,” I muttered under my breath, hoping nobody had seen.

“What an edgy look, Ashling dear,” an older lady who was a regular called to her.  To her credit, Ashling just smiled and waved back before arriving at my table, her eyes worried.

“Your hair has a wide purple streak through it,” I said. Her eyes got wide.

She automatically reached up and touched her hair and more of it turned purple.

“Ah, I think it’s on your hands or something,” I said.

She cursed quietly, dropping a few words that would really pump up her edgy vibe if anyone else had heard them. She looked closely at her hands.  Putting her body between her hands and the rest of the customers she spoke in Gaelic.  Both hands and the towel briefly flashed a very light red color.

“He made it specific ta’ me.  The others in the kitchen could use this rag fer blowing their noses and it wouldn’t do a thing.  No one ‘cept me.  Oh, tricky boy,” she said, her voice serious as hell.  Then she smiled at me.  “Game on, it is.”  She looked just like her nephew.

Chapter 18

“I think it’s gone too far,” Marianne said, rolling onto her side, elbow on her pillow.

“What?” I asked, mind racing through our relationship history for anything I might have done wrong.

“This hex training that Ashling is putting Declan through,” she said, frowning at me as if she wondered what else I could possibly think she was talking about.

“Oh.  Why do you say that?”

“She and Darci got into a fight about it today,” she said, rolling onto her back and looking up at the ceiling.  “We had just finished our lesson and Darci was bringing in dinner from the restaurant.  Ashling said it would be good to sit down for dinner and Darci asked Would it?”

“Sarcastically?” I asked.

“Very.  Even though I was right there Ashling instantly asked what she meant by that.  Darci asked her when the last time was that she had seen her nephew.  Ashling frowned and said she’d seen him an hour earlier when he reported to the kitchen for work.  Darci said no not Declan the dishwasher, Declan your nephew?”

I raised both eyebrows at her and she nodded at my silent question. “Yeah exactly.  Ashling frowned too.  Darci explained that Declan hadn’t been eating any meals with them for three days.  That he hadn’t, to her knowledge, used the shower either.  That the only time she’d seen him in the apartment was when she popped in during a shift and found him doing laundry.  He’d jumped a mile and turned like he was going to punch her or worse.  Then she dropped the real bomb shell.  He hasn’t slept there for the last half week.”

“What? Where the hell is he sleeping?” I asked, memories of him using the shower at the dojo popping into my head.

“She said she found a pillow and blankets in the barn, but they’re inside his game circle and it was heavily warded.”

“He’s been using my shower downstairs more than usual,” I said.

She nodded. “Darci said that the lady that owns the bagel place down the street mentioned to her that he’d been having breakfast there every day.  Then she talked to Merry, and she told her that she hasn’t made a lunch for him all week.  And he’ll only eat dinner if it comes out of the same pot or dish as the rest of the staff.”

“Ouch,” I said.  “What did Ashling say?”

“She asked Darci if she thought it was as bad as all that.  Darci said it reminded her of some soldiers she’d seen at Bagram Air Base when she was serving in the Air Force.  Paranoia from the constant stress of being under combat conditions without reprieve.”

“What happened then?”

“Ashling cried and I got the heck out of there.  I don’t know any of them well enough to be there for something like that,” she said.  “But you do.”

“I do,” I agreed.  “I go out there tomorrow.”

The next day I closed early for lunch, put a sign in the window and headed to Rowan West.

“Do you want a table?” a waitress asked.

“No, I’m looking for Ashling?”

“She’s in the apartment, I think,” the woman said.  I think her name was Sandy.  After thanking her, I headed back outside and knocked on the door to the apartment.  A second later I knocked again.  A muffled sound came from inside and I took it as permission to enter.  The door opened for me which confirmed my guess.  Ashling was in the living room, a photo album in her lap.

“To what do I owe the honor?” she asked, her face looking tired and sad.  “Or has me pupil been telling stories out of school?”

“I heard there was some tension,” I said, carefully, not wishing to implicate Marianne any further than I already had.

“Tension is it?” she said with a snort.  “I’ve managed to make a basket case out of me boy and ye call it tension?”

“If you end this hex contest, it’ll get back to normal in no time.”

“Will it?  Or will I jest have wasted all the time trying to train him?”

“What’s your alternative?”

“I don’t know, Levi.  I jest don’t know.”

“Okay, let me ask you this… if our job is to prepare him for something important, how will making him paranoid and cause him to have PTSD help out?”

She shot me a stricken look.  I just nodded before adding more fuel to my argument.  “How bad is he doing at it?  I haven’t heard anything from him about it since last week.”

“He bleeding mailed me a hexed letter, using the local tax collector’s envelope.  It was brilliant,” she said.

“What have you caught him with lately?”

“Nothing that I can tell.  As Darci pointed out, we hardly see him anymore.”

“Then can’t we just call it lesson learned?”

“He’s good, Levi, no, he’s fecking brilliant, but there’s some much more a witch could throw at him.  And it won’t be jest a single witch.  Most likely it’ll be a full circle to come after the likes of him.”

“Okay, how about this – in the military we had shoot houses – basically buildings set up for students to move through, engaging various targets or sometimes, if we used nonlethal replacement weapons, other shooters.  But the excitement was kept inside the shoot house.  What you have going on right now is like a live action full time shoot house that operates twenty-four hours seven days a week.”

She looked at me thoughtfully.  “Hmm.  We played this game in me village but it was jest among the kids our own age.  I tried to recreate that with the two of us and…”

“And it didn’t work out so well,” I finished.  “That’s why I think a hex house would be a good idea.”

“With the modest obstacle of finding jest such a house,” she said.  I nodded.  None of us were wealthy enough to have money for an extra house.

“Well, let’s just work on the idea and then we’ll work toward getting a building.  What is it you always say?  If the goddess wills, the way will find us?”

“Jest so,” she agreed.

Three hours later we had a plan.  Fifteen minutes after that we had a building.

“We can use my house,” Darci said, hanging her gun belt on its special hook.

“You have a house?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said in a droll tone.  “I have my own house, hotshot,” she said.  “It’s about ten miles from here.  As long as we don’t trash the place, I don’t see why we can’t use it as a hex house.”

“No renters or anything?” I asked.

“No.  I’m not landlord material – I don’t like other people messing with my stuff,” she said, pulling out a chair at the table where Ashling and I sat. “Mostly just my tools and guns, and my flower gardens.”

“And yet we will be hexing it up, down and sideways?” Ashling asked.

“Different.  You’re all family.  Close family.  Not the same,” Darci said. “The weapons are locked in gun safes and those are off limits, but as long as you all don’t mangle my dahlias it’ll be fine.”

“Do ye think the boy will go for it?” Ashling asked her partner, leaning forward slightly in her chair.

“I think he would love to come home,” Darci said, reaching out to grab her girlfriend’s hand.

“Actually, he’s on his way home now,” I said, holding up my phone.  “I texted him.”

“And he agreed?” Ashling asked, incredulous.

“He did,” I said, not adding that I had signed my text with a code phrase that meant no tricks or curses were involved.  We had worked that out after the escrima stick and kitchen dishtowel incidents as I wanted to be like Switzerland… neutral.

Ashling shared a glance with Darci, then leapt up, rushing into the apartment’s kitchen.  Trust a restauranteur to offer peace through food.  Although, knowing the other party to the accords, food was probably the best idea.

Forty-two minutes later, which I know because I counted every damned one of them, Declan entered the apartment – entered it very, very cautiously.  He studied every doorknob, cushion, piece of furniture, rug and object in the room, waving his hands over a few of them. He looked thinner, even though it had only been part of a week.  Ashling moved forward, arms out, but he hesitated, scanning her up and down before he allowed her to hug him.  I saw tears in her eyes but a smile on her lips as she squeezed him hard.

“Levi said you called truce?” he asked carefully.

“This is no way to live, lad,” Ashling said, holding him at arm’s length.  “Oh ye’ve lost weight,” she said, a little hitch in her voice.

“Do you know what a shoot house is?” I asked him while his aunt recomposed herself.

“You’ve mentioned them.  They sound pretty cool.”

“Well, we’re thinking of a hex house,” I said.

“Like it’ll have all the spells, curses and traps in it?” he said.

“Yes, lad,” Ashling said.  “Sometimes I’ll be setting the house up, sometimes you will be.  The other has to enter and exit, usually accomplishing a task as they’re at it.”

“And outside of the house?” he asked.

“Peace,” Darci said.

“That would be… really great,” he said.  He really did look thinner.

“How’d you lose weight so quickly?” I asked him.

“He’s been crafting non-stop,” Ashling said.  “Holding wards, running runes to detect and protect.  It burns calories fast, it does.  Come eat,” she said, grabbing the fork set on his plate and taking a bite of the zita she’d reheated to prove it was safe.

He slid into the chair, his hands hovering over it in a subtle way.  Picking up the fork he glanced at his aunt.  “Do we have any milk?” he asked.

“Oh my yes,” she said, turning to the fridge.  He instantly waved both hands over the whole table while her back was turned.

Neither Darci nor I said a word about his caution, after all, the whole purpose of the contest had been to inculcate that very trait.

There was tension as we all sat down to eat, and it was a little awkward, but I asked him about his robot club’s latest creation, and he dove into the topic with relish.  It got a little strained when Darci asked about his friends, and he admitted he had spent the weekend at Rory’s house.  Then, after a moment, Ashling told us about the health inspector showing up and giving Rowan West a clean bill, and things got a bit more normal.

The following Saturday we all drove over to Darci’s house, which turned out to be a little two-bedroom, one bath farmhouse sitting on five acres of what had once been part of a larger farm.

“It was the foreman’s house,” she explained, as she unlocked it.  “Almost a hundred years old.”

“Hey, you have a ghost,” Declan said as soon as he entered.  “You didn’t tell me about her.”  He was staring at a corner of the kitchen that was right off the entry – an empty corner.

“What?” Darci asked, staring at him with wide eyes.

“He’s right dear,” Ashling said, looking right where he was.  “Ye’ve got a lady ghost.  Hello, we mean you no harm.”

Darci and I exchanged looks, both raising our eyebrows.  Ashling walked over to the corner in question, pausing to pull out a chair.  “If ye don’t mind me asking, dearie, jest what’s yer name?” she said to empty air. Declan was focused on his aunt, but he must have noticed our movements because he glanced our way.

“She’s really there,” he said.  “Dressed like from the fifties or something.”

“Hush lad, I’m trying to hear her, but yer yammering is distracting me,” his aunt said.

He gave us an oops look and shrugged.  Ashling leaned back in her chair, nodding her head as if she was agreeing with someone.   “Well, I’m sure yer welcome to stay, dear, but there will be a bit of activity here from time to time.”  She listened to unheard words and then nodded, before turning to us.

“She’s Doris… Doris Eppingham.”

Darci sucked in a little breath.  “The man I bought the house from was named Eppingham,” she said.

“Her son, dear.  He and his sister were raised here. They moved away when they were grown,” Ashling explained.

“What do we do about her?” Darci asked.

Ashling looked startled for a moment, glancing at Declan who shrugged yet again.  “We don’t have to do a thing, Darci dear.  I’m thinking ye never noticed her before did ye?”

“No.  Nothing spooky ever happened here.”

“Well, she’s very shy ye see.  She’s aware of us and aware of her circumstances but hasn’t seen fit to move on yet.  As she’s no bother to us and we won’t be likely to bother her, it should be fine.”

“What about the hexing and charm spells Aunt Ash?” Declan asked.

“Most won’t do a thing to her or her to them.  But we won’t be casting anything of spirit, will we?”

“I wouldn’t even think to use something like that,” he said.  “That’s more in your area than mine.”

“Ye’ve got Air as well as Fire and Earth, boy.  Ye should work hardest on the things that come hardest,” she said.

“Should I or should I maximize my strengths before working on my weaknesses?”

“Both,” Darci and I said in unison.

“So, work hard on everything, as well as schoolwork, and job work, and shooting, and Krav Maga?” he asked.

“Yes,” all three of us said at the same time.  “It’s called life,” I said.

“And you left out robot club, firewood duty and gardening,” Darci said.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, for all the world just like any another teenager, while in all the world there was no other teenager like him.

“It gets worse in college,” I said.  “Doing it now helps build the skills to handle more in the future.”

“Like building muscle,” he said.

“Yes, muscles of the mind,” his aunt said.  “Now, let’s walk through and Darci can tell us what’s off limits and what’s fair game.”

“Like never, never mess with my vinyl collection,” Darci warned, shaking a finger at both.

“I would never,” Ashling said, clutching both hands dramatically.

“And I would never mess with an old lady’s antique technology,” Declan said, with a smirk.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Darci said.

A roll of paper towels on the counter suddenly fell over.  We all looked at it, but it was Ashling who spoke first.  “He wasn’t speaking of yer stuff, Doris, have no fear.”  Then she listened and laughed.

“What?” I asked.  “What did she say?” Darci added.

“She said she’s never been scared of a cheeky boy in her life… or death,” Declan said, frowning at the empty space near the towels.

“Hah,” Darci said.  “She told you!”

“Yes, yes she did,” he agreed, his grin now rueful.

Chapter 19

“Thanks Levi, drop them right there please,” Darci said.

I lowered the last of three heavy boxes of flower bulbs to the ground outside her house then paused to look at the structure itself.  Declan had been inside for close to forty minutes so far and I hadn’t heard a peep from him.  Generally, if he got caught in a freeze spell or other magical trap, he would have pinged my cell phone.  Even if his body was completely paralyzed, he could still direct his own cell phone to contact mine by will alone.

“Taking a while today,” I noted.

“Would you relax,” Darci said, keeping her voice low.  “You know he will contact us if anything goes wrong.  Don’t make her anymore anxious than she is,” she said in a low voice, nodding at her girlfriend who was sitting in a cross-legged position on an outcropping of granite about twenty yards or so away, her back to us.

Ashling was always nervous when we ran the hex house, at least if it was Declan who was going in.  She seemed to enjoy the challenge when it was her turn, but she had some fears regarding what he might do if she caught him in a particularly nasty trap.

“I can’t hear what yer both nattering on about, but I can make a fine guess,” the pretty witch said without turning around.  “It’s taking longer because I made the game a lot harder, I did.”

I opened my mouth to speak but just then the closest window rose, and Declan leaned out to look at us.  “Ah, Aunt Ash… can you come in here.  Mrs. Eppingham has been trying to tell me something the whole time I’ve been in here and she’s getting pretty annoyed that I can’t understand her like you can.”

“What about yer tasks?” Ashling questioned.

“Oh, I finished a few minutes ago.  I’ve been trying to puzzle out what she’s saying but… well, it might be best if you had a crack at her,” he said.

Ashling stood up, as did Darci, and all three of us trooped into the house.  We found Declan in the downstairs bedroom that was just off the family room.  Darci had it set up as an office, with a desk, bookcases, several comfortable reading chairs and a wall hung cork board that had a planting schedule and current year calendar pinned to it.  She also had her grandmother’s antique quilt hanging on one wall.  Both of our witches had reported that the ghost of Doris Eppingham hung out in that room and seemed to appreciate the quilt.

Why Darci and I went along I don’t really know.  We couldn’t see or hear anything except what either Declan or his aunt did or said.  Nevertheless, we followed them into the den.

“Now then Doris, what seems to be the problem dear?” Ashing asked, her gaze focused on an empty armchair that Declan had been facing when we entered.  She nodded her head to unheard words, glancing at Declan once or twice.  The young witch just shrugged his shoulders each time she looked his way.

“Well, now, I think I get the jist of it, so how’s this then:  there is someone or something that be dark and evil, on the spiritual realm, newly arrived in this area? And they or it was called here by a living person?”

“That’s what she meant?” Declan asked, like she’d just deciphered his computer programming homework.

“So it seems, lad.  Granted she’s right hard to understand when she’s all abother,” Ashling said.

“What does any of that mean?” Darci asked.

“Often times intelligent haunts are aware of their supernatural neighborhoods, so to speak.  They know about other entities that dwell or appear within their personal range of awareness. Doris here is trying to alert us to something particularly bad that has been summoned.”

“Like a demon?” I asked.

“No, I don’t believe so.  That would be another level of bad altogether,” she said.

“What would you do to stop a demon?” Darci asked.

“I wouldn’t and neither would our young lad here.  We would call in a professional exorcist for that kind of thing.  We want no truck with demons,” she said, eyes flashing with a mix of worry and anger.

“Who would you get?  A priest?” Darci asked.

“Perhaps, although I’ve heard about a young fella in upstate New York who, according to the rumors, is far more effective than any priest or shaman,” Ashling said.  “But it isn’t such.  There are other things out there, other baddies that are nothing to trifle with.”

“And this thing is here?  In my house?” Darci asked.

“No dear.  Doris is aware of more than jest yer house and land, she is.  Jest as we have neighbors and such, so does she.  What she’s telling me is that somewhere in the greater Castlebury area, a dark and foul thing has appeared.  Something that scares ghosts.  And it was summoned.”

“Why did she tell us?” I asked.

“She knows that the lad and meself are not jest regular folks. She understands that we have a duty to balance things and so she’s informing us of a danger to our community. Of a gross imbalance.”

“How do we find it and what are we supposed to do with it when we do?” Darci asked.

A huge smile lit up Ashling’s face.  “What?” Darci asked.

“Ye jumped right in with both feet, ye did,” her girlfriend said.  “Not even knowing what it is we might be fighting.”

“Of course.  It’s what anyone would do,” Darci said.

“No dear, it’s not.  Jest you.  And him,” Ashling said, nodding at me.

“You never answered the question… how do we find it?” I pointed out.

“Well now, a thing that scares ghosts won’t be bashful or shy.  Doris is telling us news that’s at least a few days old.  Nothing big and bad would be able to stay in hiding that long.  It’ll have begun to make waves.  We jest have to spot the waves we do.”

“How?” I asked.

“The police blotter is one place to check,” Declan said, “And any local media stories about the supernatural that pop up.”

“Well, I can check all the logs for calls,” Darci said, “But how are we going to learn about anything supernatural?”

“We,” Ashling said, waving a hand between herself and me, “have the best supernatural reference libraries around.  It’s very likely one or the other of us will be hearing something about a haunt or ghostie or some such in the next day or so.”

Declan snorted.  “That’s an understatement,” he said.  “You should hear the gossip that the local sensitives and mediums tell her,” he said, nodding at his aunt.

“True lad, true,” she agreed with a nod and a smile.

Literally two days later they were proved right.  A pair of women, one elderly and one middle-aged, came into my store and inquired about books on the paranormal.  My personal sense was triggered by the younger woman, especially when she gave me a big smile.  I sent them to the section on supernatural and a short time later they were at the front desk, asking about discounts for professional mystics.  I don’t have one of those, but I know an opportunity when it rears up and kicks me in the face.

“I’m thinking that you’re the medium, although you seem awfully young for such power” I said, looking at the middle-aged one with a smile.  People who practice the mystical arts or pretend to all love flattery and this lady had already been flirting with me.

“Barbara Corvus, medium, spiritualist and professional paranormal investigator,” she said, holding out one hand.  I shook it, noting a little zip of something, a hint of ability.

“Margaret St. Pierre,” the older woman introduced herself. “Also, a paranormal investigator.”

The tone of her words was half challenge, half defensive; a person used to a certain amount of ridicule.

“Really?  Are you part of an organization?”

“Not anymore,” Margaret answered.  “We investigate on our own now days.”

“What brings you to fair Castlebury?”

They shared a glance, clearly deciding what and how much to say.  “We got a call from an old acquaintance about one of Castlebury’s more active paranormal sites,” Barbara said.

“One of our paranormal sites?” I asked.  “Are we known for having lots of them?”

“There are a couple up this way,” Margaret said with a wry grin.  “Old towns in old New England tend to have had time to accumulate some supernatural oddities.  You seem to be a believer… are you?”

“Oh, I certainly believe in the whole more things in heaven and Earth bit,” I said.  “I’ve seen quite a few… things.  But tell me – did something happen?  With this haunted house?  Something new?”

“Why do you ask that?” Barbara asked, both of their expressions now looking suspicious.

“You said it yourself… you got a call about a house that’s already known to be the scene of paranormal activity from someone who you have known for some time.  It begs the question – did something change?”

“You’re not just a pretty face Levi,” Barbara said with a sly smile.  “Pretty sharp.”

“Well, it would be easy to lose my shirt in this business if I didn’t pay attention,” I said.

“Might be fun to watch though,” Barbara suggested.

Her older partner shot her a look before turning back to me. “The house in question has always been very active but in a benign way.  Lately, things have become much more aggressive.  Our friend is worried about this sudden turn.  So we got called in,” Margaret said, her tone prideful.

I looked down at the book that they were buying.  Psychic Self Defense in a World of Darkness.  I knew every book on my shelves and this was no exception.  The author, M. Gardener, had spent years studying demonology, and had personally attended multiple exorcisms with a Catholic exorcist with a strong track record.

“This is a really solid choice if you’re facing something nasty,” I said.  “Particularly the demonic. I can give you a ten percent discount.”

“We noticed that your section of spiritualism and the supernatural was particularly large and well stocked,” Barbara said, somehow making the words flirty as she handed me a debit card.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you… people are very interested in spiritualism these days.  That section requires more restocking than any other,” I said, processing the transaction.  I pulled a paper bag with my store logo from under the counter, put the book in it, and then made a show of dropping in a small mini flashlight that also had the store logo on it.  “In case your other lights get drained,” I said with another smile.

“Not a bad little backup light,” Margaret said, pulling it out to look it over.

She was more right than she knew.  The light was a Photon II microlight that I had ordered from a marketing catalog.  I had purchased ten of them with the idea of selling them from a display on the counter.  Declan had found them and immediately modified half of them.  If Margaret looked closely at it, she might notice tiny runes carved in the black plastic housing.  I was hoping that Declan could track his own work and lead us to wherever these women were headed.

The two investigators left the store, and I wasted no time calling Ashling.

“It was a good thought, Levi,” Ashling said.  “The lad should have no trouble tracking his own work depending on what he did to the light.”

“I still have four others that he modified the same way.  Would they be connected?”

“Aye, they might.  Again it depends on what he did.”

“He told me the lights would last longer, shine brighter, and constantly remind their owners of my store,” I said.

“Oh, he did all that did he?  It seems very likely he can track them.  He’ll like to be home in the next half-hour, and we’ll head right over.”

An hour and a half later, both witches walked through the shop door.

“I had a Robotics club meeting I forgot to tell Aunt Ash about,” Declan apologized as he held the door for his aunt.

“No worries,” I said, pulling out the remaining micro lights.

Declan pulled his school issued iPad from his messenger bag, set it on the counter and pulled up Google maps. Then he pulled a small candle from the bag and use the non-wick end like a wax pencil to draw a circle around the iPad directly on the glass countertop.

“You will clean that up, right?” I asked.

“Levi, a skilled craftsperson always cleans up his or her work,” he said with mock outrage.

Ashling patted my shoulder.  “It’s wax dearie.  Wax burns,” she said arching one eyebrow.

Right.  Fire witch.  Got it.  “In a bookstore?” I asked.

Declan looked at me, eyes wide and his offended expression was real this time.  “Levi I could burn thermite on top of any book in this place and not leave so much as a smudge.”

“Thermite,” I asked in mild disbelief, remembering how my squad had disabled vehicles by burning out their engines with thermite grenades.

“Yeah, it’s cool stuff isn’t it?” Declan said.  “Rory’s dad let me mess around with some at his lab in UVM, but you must have had actual grenades, right?” he asked eagerly.  He was still writing runes on the countertop with the candle, but his attention was now firmly on the topic of incendiaries.

“Don’t get yerself all excited and distracted boyo.  Ye got Crafting to do,” Ashling admonished. “And you, Levi, do ye really doubt the lad around fire?”

“Reflex.  I’m always concerned about fire and my books,” I said, pointing up at the sprinkler system overhead.

“Please,” Declan said.  “I warded this place against fire a long time ago.  You couldn’t get a birthday cake lit in here if you had a blow torch.  Those are fun too, by the way.”

“Declan,” Ashling warned.

“All done Aunt Ash,” he said.  “I’ll just set these other four inside the circle, power it up and…”

We all leaned forward as his finger touched the edge of his wax circle. The map on the iPad suddenly shifted by itself, moving and zooming down till it stopped at on a street just outside of town.  “Twenty-one Hope Drive,” Declan said.

“The old Igby place,” Ashling said, with a nod.  “Makes sense. The owner charges investigators a fee to let them go in.  Even had a camera crew from one of those ghost shows once.”

“So now what?” I asked.

“Now we do our own investigation, ye see,” Ashling said with a smile.  Somehow, I got the impression that it would be a whole lot different from what I’d seen on television.  Declan waved his hand and the wax on the countertop glass all vanished in a puff of smoke.

Chapter 20

Twenty-one Hope Drive was the on the corner of Route 15 and Hope Drive which was a short road with a dead end. It had seven newer houses built on it in addition to the one in question.  Number 21 was older, much older, a square cube of a house made of brick with a peaked roof that was covered in Vermont slate.

“American foursquare design,” Darci said as we drove by.

“What’s that dear?” Ashling asked.

“A popular design from the late eighteen-hundreds.  Compact design, lots of them sold as mail order kits, from places like Sears and Roebuck.”

“Ah, so it’s what ye would call old, at least fer this baby of a country,” Ashling replied.

“Yeah, yeah, so you had kitchen tables older than the US, we get it,” I said.  “Course, we have stuff in Israel that make Ireland look new.”

“It’s off,” Declan said suddenly, studying the house from the rear window of my old Mercedes.

“That it is, and ye’ll be staying well away from it till I get me own handle on it, see?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a theatric sigh.

“I’m serious lad.  Ye’ve got strong protections ye do, but things of the spirit world are old and tricky.  Yer shields will do ye naught good if they fool ye into letting them through now, will they?”

“No Aunt Ash,” he said with a sigh, like he’d heard about it before.

She snorted.  “Yer mouth says auntie this and auntie that, but yer face says ye know it all already.”

“I just don’t think I’m that much of a pushover,” he said.

It was Darci’s turn to snort.  “Please, how many times have you come home from school with some new cause to support?”

“That’s different,” he said, frowning. “Those are all environmental causes… mainly.”

“Hmm,” Ashling hummed, clearly not in full agreement with his assessment. “Pull over here, Levi,” she said, powering her window down.  I put my passenger side wheels on the shoulder and turned my blinker on.

Despite her words of warning, Ashling had insisted on Declan being behind her so that he too could observe the house as directly as possible.

“What do ye get boy?”

“I’m smelling rotten meat.  I mean, I can tell that I’m not smelling actual decayed flesh, but it’s there.”

“Why?” Ashling pressed.

“Because that’s how my brain is interpreting the sense of evil coming from that place,” he said, not looking away from the house.

“You said it was known as a haunted house already?” I asked.  “Or at least alleged to be.”

“Oh, it’s haunted alright,” Ashling said with a nod.  “Built by Thomas Igby back on the late eighteen-hundreds as Darci said.  He died there as did his first wife.  Both are still there.”

“You’ve investigated?” I asked.

“No, I’ve driven by,” she said.  I remembered her sensing a grimoire in my possession from miles away.  “Mari?  What about you dear?”

Marianne was in the back, between Darci and Declan, and I watched in the rearview as she leaned on Declan to get as close to the window as she could.  The poor kid turned bright red as her dark hair brushed his face.  Didn’t complain though did he?

“I don’t like the feel of it,” she said with a shudder.

“Can ye place any particular part of the house?” Ashling quizzed.

“Downstairs, maybe?”

“Declan?” Ashling said.

“Back lower half of the house and into the basement,” he said.  “A feminine presence upstairs, and something just plain bad on the lower levels.”

“Fair,” Ashling said. “Mrs. Igby is upstairs, back left bedroom.  Mister is front right, also upstairs. The thing we want is lurking in the kitchen and rear of the basement.”

“Any idea of what it is?” Darci asked.

“Something awful.  Old, and mean.”

“Demonic?” Darci asked.

“No dear.  I already told ye that,” Ashling said, turning to look at her girlfriend.

“Don’t like the thought of demons,” the rough and ready deputy said.

“It used to be human, but it’s something else now.  Twisted, corrupted, but powerful.”

“It knows we’re out here,” Declan said.

“Aye lad, how could it not with all the power ye be radiating?”

“I’m tamped down,” he protested.

“Fer a witch maybe, but not something of spirit.”

“You’re tamped down?” Marianne asked, frowning at Declan. “You’re radiating power. I thought you’d finally shown me your colors so to speak.”

Declan opened his mouth, but no words came out, clearly caught off guard and without a clue of what to say.  He looked forward at his aunt, eyes pleading for help.

“Damn,” Ashling said softly. She turned and met my girlfriend’s eyes.  “Mari, dear, ye know when we started out with your lessons and I had you sign our contract with a drop of yer blood and an oath right?”

“Yes,” Marianne said slowly, her face going pale.

“And our contract said that you would hold my secrets more dearly than yer own?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“Well, this be the secret ye must guard the most,” Ashling said, holding the water witch’s eyes with a diamond hard gaze.

Marianne was white as a sheet now and Declan looked completely mortified.  Darci was sitting very stiffly, staring straight at the back of my seat.  The tension in the car was so thick it was like the moment before lightning strikes.

“My fault,” Declan said, turning and looking out the window.

“Ye put yer protections on high, now didn’t ye?” Ashling asked him.

He nodded slowly, still looking at the house, but his eyes weren’t really seeing it.

“It’s okay,” Marianne said, nodding her head.  “I knew something was up all along.  But I swore you an oath Ashling and I meant it.  I would never break it.”

“Well, dear, ye knew the boy was a witch, jest not how much of a witch he be, right?” Ashling asked.

“He’s really blocking his power?” Marianne asked, directing her question to Ashling, but shifting a little to her left, tighter to Darci.

“He is, dear.  He always is.  But he’s powered up his personal shields a bit on account of the thing inside that house.  Which is why we’re here.”

Marianne took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  She turned and looked at the boy who was pushing himself away from her and against the car door.  “So, if you’re holding it in, you must be… damn kid.”

“Ye see why yer oath was needed?” Ashling asked.

“Yeah. I think I do.  And why the whole hex game and hex house thing was so important,” my girlfriend said. She took another breath.  “But what do we do about that thing?” she said, nodding at the house.

“We send it back to where it came from,” Ashling said.

“How?”

“It feeds on the energy of the living.  Fear is gravy on its taters, it is.  So, we need to get inside and starve it.”

“How do we get permission?” I asked.

“We don’t,” she said, looking at her partner.

“Oh?  Really?  A little breaking and entering?” Darcia asked, her tone sharp.

“Well, dear, we could ask permission.  I know the owner; he comes to Rowan West about once a week.  He’s as much as offered me a chance to investigate, knowing jest a bit of my leanings ye see.  But do ye think it a good idea for him to know that with one visit the local restauranteur banished the big bad entity that has taken over?”

Darci didn’t say anything, instead turning her head to look out her own window.  I cleared my throat.

“Ye have something to add, do ye, Levi?”

“What if I contacted the two investigators that led us here?  They were called in by the owner to help.  If I can get them to bring us along it might give us cover?” I suggested.  “Unless whatever you do in there is so obvious that it will give you away.”

She studied me for a moment, her blue eyes locked on mine as she thought her way through it.  “We can likely hide what we’re doing, but it’ll take focus,” she said, turning to Declan.  “Focus that ye cannot break.  One of these women claims to have the Sight.”

“I just have to act as your heat sink right?  Absorb the power as you pull it out of the house?” Declan asked.  “That’s mostly passive, so sure.”

Marianne gave him an incredulous look, but Ashling just nodded.  “That it be it for the most part lad. We have to take it all though,” she added.

“Can’t we do it from here?” he asked.

“Maybe when yer older, lad.  But there are other… sources around us, in these other houses.  They’ll be pulled in too which could banjax us. If we don’t get every drop from the Igby house that thing will come back like a dandelion.”

Marianne’s head swiveled from the boy to the aunt, her eyes wide with disbelief at what she was hearing. She glanced at me, brows up.  I nodded and she looked stunned.

“How do ye think to get us included?” Ashling asked me.

I felt a little flush on my cheeks.  “Well, one of them was flirting with me kind of heavily,” I said.

Marianne’s eyes narrowed at me, and I held up both hands. “I didn’t flirt back.”

“But now you’re suggesting that you do?” she asked.  I shrugged.  After a moment her expression cleared.  “And what about me?  Am I supposed to sit this out and let you go with this ghost hunting cougar?”

“Ye’ll be with us dear,” Ashling said.  “Jest have to hide the relationship till we be done.”

“And after?  After he leads this woman on and then gives her the cold shoulder?” Marianne asked.

“No dear. I’ll handle it.  She won’t be attracted to him anymore.”

“How?” Marianne asked.

“Spirit craft,” Declan said.  “Anti-love spell.”

“Anti-lust is more the thing,” Ashling said.  “Jest a little change in the chemistry this woman is feeling.”

“That means that the opposite is true as well.  Love spells and love potions?” Marianne asked.

Ashling’s face went hard.  “Perhaps the worst and most dangerous of craft.  Right up there with demon dealing.”

“We don’t do love spells,” Declan said, his voice cold and hard enough that everyone in the car looked at him.

“No lad, we don’t,” his aunt agreed.  “Now, Mr. Charm, it be time for ye to work yer own magic,” she said to me.

We drove back to my shop, I found the sales slip that Barbara had signed, her phone number written on the bottom with a little heart next to it.

“Wow, ballsy,” Marianne said, her tone equal parts annoyed and impressed.

I made the call, trying to ignore the three women and the boy who watched.  Barbara was quick to agree but had to have a little side conversation with her partner.  Margaret finally agreed that I could join them and bring a few friends but that we had to abide by every single one of their safety rules.  At Ashling’s nod I swiftly agreed and just like that we were set.  They were going back into the house the next night and we were going with them.

Chapter 21

“Why I agreed to this, I don’t know,” Margaret said to the five of us.  “This is potentially one of our most dangerous investigations and it’s no place for amateurs.  That said, you’re here now and we could use extra hands at the command center.”

Ashling, Darci, Marianne, Declan, and I all stood silently, just outside the Igby house.  It was mid-afternoon and the rear of the ghost hunters’ Ford Transit van was open, revealing heavy plastic equipment cases stacked across the back.

“We understand dear, and we’ll abide yer instructions,” Ashling said.  “But jest so as ye know, I’ve me share of experience with spirits and such from back in Ireland.”

“Yeah, I know you own a spiritualist shop, but I don’t know you and so I need you to follow my lead,” the other woman replied.  Barbara stood a few feet apart, staring at the house, pretty much ignoring us.  She suddenly turned and looked at Ashling, studying her for a moment with curious eyes.  Then she looked at Declan, and finally me, ignoring Darci and Marianne.  She hadn’t been pleased to see either Ashling or Marianne when we arrived, her up and down review of each woman causing an ugly twist of her lips. After I introduced Darci as Ashling’s partner, she lost about half of her frosty edge.

“Spirit tells me that it’s okay that they’re here,” she said to Margaret.  “In fact, spirit approves.”

“Hmpf,” Margaret said, narrowing her eyes at her friend.  “Anyway, strong arms to carry the gear is always welcome.  We want to cover the house in infrared cameras and having the rest of you on watch will be helpful.”

“Just show us what to do,” I said.

“Haul all of that inside there,” Margaret said, pointing at the cases and then the house.

We jumped into action, Darci and I leading the way with the heaviest cases, Declan carrying two slightly smaller cases and the other two women carrying the collapsed camera stands and spools of wire.

The next two hours were spent setting up cameras, running wire and setting up the command center on the covered front porch.  The command center consisted of a folding plastic table with several camera monitors along with video recorders, a base charging station for walkie talkies and a whole slew of handheld detectors, audio recorders, and strange devices along with fresh packs of batteries.

“I feel like I’m being watched,” I said, as I unspooled wire down the stairs past Darci and Ashling who were adjusting a camera angle according to Margaret’s radioed instructions.  “That is because ye are, dear,” Ashling said without looking up from the wing nut she was tightening.  “It’s well aware of us.”

The house was seriously creepy, despite its Victorian charm.  Decorated and furnished with period accurate furniture, draperies and light fixtures, it would normally have appealed to my sense of historic value.  But the rooms seemed shadowed, the air cold and a sense of heavy foreboding hung over the whole house.  Darci and Marianne seemed to feel it too, but neither Ashling nor her nephew appeared to be unduly bothered.

Declan was helping Margaret with the recorders and monitors.  I handed him the end of the cord from my spool, and he connected it to the system with a few short, quick motions.  Margaret said nothing, standing back and letting him bring the camera on-line.  At the beginning she’s had lots of instructions for him, but somewhere between the first and third cameras she’d dropped back and let him handle it. His aptitude for all things electronic must have been quickly evident to her.

“Levi, would you take a walkie and go back to that camera so we can get the angles right?” Margaret asked.

“Sure thing,” I said, although truth be told I didn’t want to be that deep in the house by myself, daylight or no daylight.

The camera I had placed was on its own stand in the corner of the front right bedroom.  The room was getting shadowy as the sun set but enough light still came through the window that lights were not yet necessary.  A feeling of oppression hung over me as I held the walkie in my left hand and fiddled with the camera with my right.

“A little left and down,” Margaret squawked through the radio.  I panned left and then pushed down.  To my right a shadow moved.  I jumped, knocking the camera off angle.

“No, you had it right, what happened?”

“Sorry, something moved in the corner of my eye,” I said.  “Or I thought it did.”

Movement in the doorway snapped my head around, but it was just Declan standing there.  I was glad to see him but then I noticed his gaze was on the side of the room where I had seen the shadow.  The hair on my neck lifted at the sight of his serious expression. Then he looked my way and smiled.  “Just a feeling,” he said.  He reached to his neck, pulled up the leather cord around it until a small white leather bag appeared.  He shook it at me with his eyebrows up.

I touched my shirt, feeling my own Ashling made talisman hanging alongside Declan’s amulet.  We all had one, even though our personal amulets were potentially enough protection on their own.  “Extra insurance,” Ashling had called them.  I had no idea what was in them as she’d cautioned us to keep them closed so as not to disrupt the spells she had crafted into them.

As soon as I touched the charm bag, I felt instantly better, the room seeming to brighten even though the outside light hadn’t changed. “Is it here?” I asked him quietly.

“It’s pretty much everywhere, or at least moving around from room to room fast enough to seem that way,” he said.

“You see it?”

“Mostly feel, but some glimpses too.  That’s what you saw.  I see a bit more than you, but many regular folks would sense some of the shadows and oppression. Your bit of Sight will show you more than most.”

“Can you guys handle it?”

“I’ve never done it, but I know how.  Aunt Ash let me read my mom’s grimoire last night, or at least the section on spirits.  I’m pretty sure I could do it by myself, but Ash doesn’t want me to.”

He didn’t seem bothered by that, which was unusual.  Witchcraft was his thing, and he was normally chomping at the bit to try new stuff.  “Why?” I asked.

“I may be too good at it,” he said, with a rueful smile, then turned and slipped back out of the room. I twisted the camera back where it had been.

“Down a smidge – perfect.  Lock it in,” my radio spoke.  I complied quickly and headed back downstairs, happy to be out despite my personal protections.

Back at command I found the rest of the team waiting.  Barbara gave me a huge smile, then smirked at Marianne before settling into a cross legged Lotus position and closing her eyes.

“While Barbara centers herself, the rest of us can finish prepping the flashlights, radios, EMF detectors, Tri-meters, REM pods, and video cameras.  Declan, I’ll handle the thermal camera myself.”

“Oh, I kind of already did,” he said, “and I’m almost done with the rest.”

“You did? I really wish you hadn’t, it’s extraordinarily expensive,” she admonished him.

“Yes, I know.  Our school has the next model up and we use it all the time in the robotics club,” he said.

Margaret, who was checking the FLIR camera in question, frowned and then looked up at him.  “Well, it looks all in order, I guess.”

He gave her a nod and when she turned away, he gave me a quick smirk and eye roll.  I didn’t blame her for her worry – most middle school kids couldn’t be trusted with multi-thousand-dollar equipment, but in this case, it was more likely that he’d just given the thing a tune up that made it better than new.

“Well, that puts us ahead of schedule,” Margaret said.  “Maybe we should go grab dinner now.  Know any good restaurants?”

I started to laugh and Darci chuckled along with me, while Marianne and Ashling just smiled.  Declan was working behind Margaret, a marker in his hand, but he looked up and capped it before she turned to him.  “What’s the joke?” she asked him.

“My Aunt’s restaurant is the best around, including Burlington,” he said. “Her shop is inside the restaurant.”

“Now lad, don’t go bragging it up,” his aunt said, but her smile was pleased.

We drove to Rowan West and Ashling had the servers set up a table for seven right next to the shop.  Dinner went fast, as Margaret and Barbara asked lots of questions about the books and paraphernalia in the store.  The food was as great as usual and an hour and a half later we pulled back up in front of the Igby house. Darkness had fallen and it looked even more ominous than before, like it was just waiting for us to dare to step inside.

“Okay, we don’t normally start this early in the evening, but this is kind of a special case as I may have mentioned at dinner.  Remember, we are here because the activity has gotten very aggressive.  This is dangerous work.  Barbara?”

“Spirit tells me that we are dealing with something hungry and malevolent,” the medium said.  “It’s not demonic but don’t underestimate it.  We’ll work in pairs as it would love nothing more than to get any of us alone.  It feeds on fear, panic and terror.  If you weaken it will own you.  Now might be a time to call on whatever Higher power you ascribe to.”

“We’ve done jest that, dear.  Let’s get to it,” Ashling said.

The two ghost hunters exchanged a glance then looked back our group.  We stood, waiting silently.

“You seem pretty calm?” Margaret asked.

“We’re ready,” Ashling said, simply.

“You think you’re ready.  I hope you are,” Barbara said.  “Spirit is worried about this thing.”

“Well, let’s get after it then,” Declan said.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Barbara said with a sad smile.  “Levi, you’re with me. Ashling, you’re with Margaret.  We’ll start upstairs, you guys can have the basement.”

“Joy,” Margaret said.  “The rest of you are in Command Central.”

I almost smirked every time they called the two monitors, video recorders and folding table Command Central.  Marianne rolled her eyes when their backs were turned, but Darci just pulled out a chair and sat, pulling a logbook closer.  “Let’s do it,” she said.

“Let’s do it,” we chorused.  The two ghost hunters picked up the gear they wanted, handing some of it to Ashling and I, then led the way to the front door.  Margaret pulled it open, and Barbara led the way inside.  I glanced at Ashling and she gave me a nod and a small confident smile. Then I stepped inside.

Chapter 22

The house was quiet as we entered, which since it was empty of life, should have been normal – comforting even.  Somehow it wasn’t.  It was the silence of the lion waiting to spring upon the gazelle. Barbara turned toward the front staircase while Margaret and Ashling walked straight through the main floor, headed for the kitchen and its entrance to the basement.

The stairs creaked as we climbed to the second floor, a normal, old house kind of creak.  I waited for another sound; any other sound that would indicate something ghostly.  Maybe steps creaking behind me, or the sound of boots on wooden floors, perhaps a door opening slowly, protesting as old doors sometimes do.  Nothing.  It was dark, except where our small flashlights lit the way.  Margaret insisted upon using very small, low output lights to avoid scaring any entities.  But what about the dangerous entity?  Didn’t we want to scare it away?

We reached the hallway and Barbara slowed as she turned toward the front bedrooms. Then she stopped altogether, head tilted slightly to the right, as if listening.  I heard nothing, except my own breathing and the rustle of her nylon jacket.

Seconds ticked by and I could now feel my heart pounding in my chest.  She stayed frozen, forcing me to do the same.  It felt like tens of minutes but was more like just one or two before she continued forward, moving a few steps toward the front left bedroom.  Then she stopped and turned back to me.

“I’m not sensing Mrs. Igby,” Barbara whispered.  “She’s always been here before.  Always.”

“Would this new thing scare her away?” I asked in an equally quiet whisper.

“Possibly.  But then again, just having those witches here might scare her away.”

“Ah, what?” I asked, heart in my throat for a whole new reason.

“Oh, come on, Levi,” she said giving me a sad smile.  “I told you I’m a medium.  Spirit about freaked out when you introduced me to those three.  And unless I’m much mistaken, you have something going with that Marianne.”

“Spirit is your guide?” I asked, ignoring the last part of her sentence.

“Yes.  We encounter witches fairly often in this line of business, so he knows them when he sees them, and he about burst when he met the Irish one.”

“And what does that mean for the investigation?”

“That we might just have some firepower on our side, spiritually speaking. Right?” she asked, arching her brow, daring me to lie.

“Well, yes, I guess.”

She snorted.  “You guess?  Please, if witches have royalty, then that Ashling is a full princess.  And there’s something odd about her nephew.”

“Declan?  He’s just a kid, and a male at that.”

“Yeah, well Spirit won’t even talk about him.  Not a peep.”

“And that’s odd?”

“Spirit never holds back – never.”

“He’s a kid – a computer nerd.  Hero of the local robotics club,” I said.  “Other than that, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Well, I can’t say as I believe you, but then again, I think I don’t want to know anything more,” she said, turning and looking toward the front room.

“No?”

“No.  I don’t get involved in witch stuff.  Good way to get royally fucked up, if not suddenly dead.”

“Then why are we talking about this?  Here and now?” I asked.

“One, we’re not in that room with audio and visual surveillance, and two, I want you to know that I know.  Clear the smoke show you got going on.”

“What smoke show?” I asked. “You knew Ashling has a Spiritualist shop, you knew we wanted to help.”

“Big difference between spiritualist and real witch.  Not talking Wicca here, but the full-on real deal, and very high level at that.  Not saying anything is almost as dishonest as lying outright, especially about your girlfriend.”

“Not my secrets to tell,” I said.  “And yes, I’m seeing Marianne, but I never came on to you, other way around if I recall.”

She looked at me for a second then shook her head.  “Well, now you know that I know. And I do not tell stories about witches, so pass that on.  Don’t want to suffer a sudden aneurysm or heart attack.”

The radio I carried suddenly crackled.  “Levi, you copy?” Darci asked.

“Here, Darci.  What’s up?”

“You’re taking a long time to get to the room, we got worried.”

“Barb is chatting with her guide.  Local spirits are missing.  Entering left bedroom now.” I nodded to Barbara. She snorted softly, turned and pushed the door open.

“Copy that.”

The room was dead still, a bit of glow from the streetlight outside showing me a bed, antique dressing table, and a rocking chair that was just about begging to rock itself.

“She’s not here,” Barb said in a normal voice.  “Spirit is worried.  Something is building, can you feel it?”

I felt static and the hair lifting on the back of my neck. “Is the big bad one here?”

She didn’t answer right away, her posture frozen, her face pointed at the closet.  “Barb?” I asked.  No response.  I reached out and touched her.  Her shoulder and arm were rigid, locked tight.  I stepped around to look at her face.  Her eyes were just white orbs – no pupils, just all white, like instant cataracts.

“It comes to feed,” she hissed in a male voice.  “Be ready.”

She blinked and her eyes were normal.  “Oh shit,” she said, eyes going wide as she looked at me. Then the room went ten degrees colder, instantly, and the EMF in her hand started to whine sharply.  The freaking rocker started to rock itself, like every bad ghost movie I’d ever seen.  Then the door slammed shut, locking us in.

I jumped straight up at the sound of the slam, then ran to the door, pulling on the antique knob for all I was worth. It wouldn’t turn, and the door stayed shut.

“Command, are you seeing this?” I asked, using my left hand to key the walkie while I kept pulling on the knob with my right.  The only sound from the radio was static – loud static.

“Shit!  What do we do?” I asked her.

“We can’t panic – it feeds on fear,” she said in a squeaky voice, her face full-on panicky looking.  Behind her the rocker picked up speed, moving faster than a human could likely rock, almost a blur.

I moved closer to her, grabbing her elbow to move her away from the chair from hell.  Footsteps thundered on the stairs and in the hall.  The doorknob rattled like the entity was trying to get in, but wasn’t it already in?”

Light flashed around the door, outlining it in sharp white, and then it suddenly burst open, slamming back into the wall.  A figure filled the opening and then it turned slightly to reveal Declan in the glow of the streetlight, his expression one of concern.  “You guys alright?  Your walkie wouldn’t work, and we could see you freaking out on camera,” he said.

I pointed at the crazy rocking chair.  He tilted his head to get a better look and then I saw his left hand tap his leg.  Just a single tap, almost like a soft slap against his jeans. I looked back at the chair in time to see it stop rocking – instant full stop without slowing first.  The temperature rose noticeably, the cold gone.

“Come on,” he said, waving toward the door.  Barbara didn’t hesitate, just bolted for the hallway, practically running down the stairs.  He touched my arm and held me back.  “She knows, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, but shouldn’t we get going?” I asked, waving toward the hall.

“I took its power,” he said.  “It’s got nothing here.  It’ll likely run for the basement.”  He waved me in front of him and I went.  It struck me a second later. I was the adult and I let the kid take up the rear.  When I turned, he just grinned at me.  “No worries,” he said, blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness.

We trotted down the stairs and out the front door.  Barbara was at the monitors, looking over Darci’s shoulder.  Marianne looked at me with wide eyes but otherwise seemed okay. We moved over to see what they were watching.  I noticed that Barbara moved slightly to keep distance between her and Declan.  Then I saw the screen.

Darci had changed the view from eight split screen windows to just two big ones, both in the basement.  One view was high angle looking down toward the old boiler, the camera mounted on a pipe near the stairs.  The other was a straight, level room view from a camera on a tripod that showed the far end of the old cellar where old windows and a pair of doors were stored, next to a workbench.  That view was filled with nothing but crazy.

In one view Margaret was crouched next to the old work bench, a hand up over her head to protect herself from screwdrivers, pliers and other tools that were flying off their hooks.  Just to her side, Ashling stood straight and tall, her body outlined with light, ignoring the tools that seemed to bounce and slide away from her without ever hitting her.  She was chanting in Gaelic, her left hand pushed forward, palm out, her right arm over her head and slightly back.

A flash of intuition hit me, and I glanced at Declan.  He was behind all of us, eyes closed, left hand held level by his leg, palm down – and aimed about where I figured his aunt was standing in the basement below.  His body was tense, and he shook slightly, but made not a sound.

I looked back at the monitor and saw the moment the flying tools dropped to the floor.  Ashling kept chanting, even as she glanced around at the suddenly still basement.  Magaret straightened up, taking her own look around before focusing on the chanting woman.  Ashling met her look with a level gaze, but kept right on chanting, one arm out, one up.

Ten seconds later she lowered both arms and went silent.  I glanced at Declan and found both eyes open, watching the monitor before turning my way.  I raised my brows, and he grinned a little.  Then I realized that his eyes really were glowing, and I was somehow dead sure that it wasn’t a trick of the streetlight or the monitors.  I pointed at my eyes and then his.  He blinked and then nodded, turning and stepping off the porch.  Barb and Darci were watching the screen, but Marianne turned and looked in time to see him walk down the driveway and approach the single streetlight post.  He glanced at us, his eyes clearly glowing in a real eerie way.  Then he casually touched the metal post and the powerful sodium streetlight overhead blinked three times fast.  It seemed like it was going to go right out, but after the last blink it stayed steady.

When he got back to the porch, Margaret and his aunt were just arriving from inside.  His eyes were not glowing now.

“Barb?  Is it gone?”

“I don’t sense it and more importantly, I do sense Mr. and Mrs. Igby,” Barbara said.

“What did you do?” Margaret asked Ashling.  “Barb says you’re witches.”

“Oh, does she now?”

“Spirit told me,” the other ghost hunter said defensively.

“Well, ‘tis true some of us honor the goddess,” Ashling said.

Margaret turned to her partner, but Barb dramatically turned away, finding a chair and collapsing into it.  “That was crazy!” was all she said, not meeting Margaret’s eyes.

“Hmm. How much did we get on camera?” Margaret asked Darci.

“Got the rocking chair and the door slamming on Levi and Barb,” Darci said.  “In the basement there’s some footage of the tools flying by your head, but then the recording stopped.”

“What?  Look out, let me see that,” Margaret demanded, leaning over Darci to type on the keyboard of the computer that was supposed to record the evidence.

“Son of a bitch!” she said when the system failed to provide additional recordings.

“Hey, we got some great stuff,” Barbara protested.  “It’s a wonder that thing didn’t wipe out our whole system.”

Margaret stayed quiet, looking at the blank screen and then turning toward Darci.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.  You told me to stay away from the controls and I did.  Watch your tone,” Darci said right back, her own voice going hard.

Margaret looked from Darci to Ashling, frowning.  She opened her mouth to say something, likely angry, based on her expression, but closed it.

“Well,” Ashling said in an upbeat tone, ignoring Margaret’s angry expression.  “That was enough excitement fer one night.  I think we should take me boyo home now,” she said directing that last part at Darci and me.

“Yeah, way past his bedtime,” Darci agreed.  Declan just shrugged.

“Can we help ye to collect yer gear?” Ashling asked the ghost hunters.

“No!  No, you’ve done more than enough.  Way more,” Barbara said before her partner could speak.  “We got this.”

“Right, let’s go lad.”

“Thanks for letting us help,” Declan said to the ghost hunters.  Margaret ignored him, but Barbara gave him a quick nod.

We climbed into my car, and I drove us back to Rowan West.  The ride home was curiously silent.

Chapter 23

“So did we kill it?” Darci asked when we were inside the Rowan West living quarters. “Or I should say… did you kill it?”

Ashling sipped her tea, her eyes on her girlfriend.  Declan was loading a piece of chocolate pie on to a plate and while he didn’t turn around, he did stop moving.

“Well, I don’t rightly know dear,” Ashling said, after swallowing her tea.  “Properly, we would say it is already dead, but I believe your question is did we banished it or vanquished it?”

“Yeah,” Darci said, “That right there.  Did you banish it?”

“It most definitely left the premises and I’d say it was drained of power,” the pretty witch said, thoughtfully.  “On account of me and my lad, who was not supposed to confront it.”  Her eyes were locked on the boy’s back and now he chose to turn around, a fork full of pie just going into his mouth.   He held her eyes as he chewed and swallowed, taking his time.

“Levi was in trouble… and that medium lady,” he said, voice bland but eyes firm.

“Was he now?” Ashling asked, holding his gaze.

“Door locked, crazy chair rocking, fear factor high,” he said, checking off each point in the air in front of him with his fork. “Yup.”

“Levi?” Ashling questioned me, without looking away from her nephew.

“I won’t lie,” I said.  “I was really, really glad when he busted the door open.  And Barbara practically ran out of the room.”

“No, she ran alright,” Marianne said with a snort.  “Real brave.  But why is it bad if Declan saved them?”

“It’s not bad that he helped them, it’s jest not a good idea for my boyo to be messing with evil spirits and such.”

“He seemed to deal with it pretty well,” Darci said.  “Not that I could tell but he didn’t appear to have any more difficulty than you did.”

“He likely had less trouble,” Ashling said.  “See his father was a clever one with the dead.”

“You know – the rapist,” Declan said, with a grimace, setting the uneaten portion of his pie down. “Daddy dearest.”

“And having an affinity for death magic is rough on keeping oneself in the path of Light,” Marianne said, almost as if quoting or paraphrasing something she’d learned.

“Aye,” Ashling agreed.  “It can leave a most heinous taint upon any witch’s soul.”

“But you took that thing’s power too?” I asked.

“Aye.  Taking its power is bloody unlikely to be a problem, if ye cleanse it. But learning how easy it is and holding tainted power is like to be a bother fer things like morals and such.”

“I dumped it fast Aunt Ash,” Declan said, frowning at her.

“I know ye did lad.  I’d jest like ye to avoid wraiths and such.”

“How did you get rid of that energy?” Marianne asked.

“I changed it to electricity and zapped the light pole,” Declan said.

“You changed it?” Marianne asked, frowning at him before turning a confused look at her mentor.

“Tis a thing of me clan, Mari.  Our specialty.  We will get to it eventually, but ye must have a proper background first.”

“Crawl before running huh?”

“Aye, and Mr. Laddie here was born running,” Ashling said.  “If ye can do it even a little it’ll give you advantages over almost any witch ye’ll come across.”

“You convert one type of energy to another?  Kinetic to thermal?”

“Yeah, like this,” Declan said, holding his fork over the floor, with one hand and pointing at a candle with the other. He let go and the fork fell but slowed as it neared the ground. The candle suddenly burst aflame.

“Okay, so to get back to the question,” Darci said, already fully aware of Clan Irwin’s skills.  “Do you think that thing will come back?”

“It might,” Ashling said.  “T’would be hard, but it was apparently summoned.  If it can rebuild its energy, it might.  Ye must all wear yer protections, which, by the by, would have kept ye safe, Levi.”

“He was locked in a room with a spirit medium who wasn’t protected,” Declan said defensively.  “I don’t want to break in a new self-defense teacher if this one gets taken out by a possessed woman.” He gave me a sharp grin.

“Thanks Dec,” I said, grinning back.

“Aye, yer not wrong although I’d say any unarmed combat instructor that lets himself get beat up might be worth trading in,” Ashling allowed, also smiling at me.

“Hey, the first thing I taught him is that running away is usually the best idea,” I said.  “And I was more than ready to run away.”

“That’s my man,” Marianne said, “Letting a middle-schooler save his ass.”

“Well, this middle schooler is taller than you, Professor, and pretty badass when it comes to ghost-fu,” I shot back.

“Cute,” Darci said.  “But how do we know if this thing comes back?”

“It made an impression, did it?” Ashling asked her partner.

“Yeah.  I can’t shoot it, club it, stab it or throw it.  Not my cup of tea,” Darci said.

“How are the wards laddie?” Ashling said, turning to Declan.

“Powered up fully as soon as we got inside,” he said.

“And you didn’t show me when you did it?” Marianne asked, frowning.

He shrugged.  “Oops.  But we were all a little rattled and I was so interested in locking the place up, that I didn’t think to show you where the keys are.”

“Why don’t ye take her outside and run over it with her, lad?” Ashling suggested.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, holding his hand over the fallen fork.  It leapt from the ground to his hand, and he set it on his plate next to the uneaten pie.  “Come on Professor,” he said with a cheeky grin.

Once the two of them left, I turned to Ashling.  “His father was into death magic?”

“His father is descended from witches skilled in death magic.  It’s something me sister and I have long guarded against.  But if I remind him of where it came from, he avoids it like poison.”

“No shit,” Darci said.  “I can’t remember seeing him set a pie plate down that wasn’t empty – ever.”

“To answer yer question my dear,” Ashling began, “I’m going to set further protections up against any return of that wraith.  I don’t want him messing with it.”

“Could it hurt him?” I asked.

“Could it?  Sure, but it’s fetching unlikely.  More that he’d rip it clean empty.  But if he didn’t cleanse the power as he took it, he’d be like to taint himself.”

“Did he cleanse it tonight?” I asked.

“He did,” Ashling answered.  “We spent a goodly time going over it before setting out.  Caught off guard he might not remember.  That boy forgets his bookbag some days.”

The door opened and my girlfriend came in followed by the boy witch.  Marianne was smiling.

“That was really cool,” she said, a gleam in her eyes.

“I showed her how to the wards work then had her make a second outer set,” Declan said.

“And did it make sense to ye Mari?”

“Oh yeah.  I can see I’ll need to set wards like those around my own place.”

“Aye.  Do what he showed ye tonight.  Tomorrow we’ll go over several other ways to ward things and places and yer ownself.  But now it be getting far late.”

“Yeah, time to head home,” I agreed, looking at the clock.  Tonight had become tomorrow some time ago.

“Jest keep yer guards up fer weirdness and such,” Ashling warned.

“Daily event around here,” Darci said.

“Quiet you,” Ashling said, slapping the deputy’s shoulder.

“Hmm if that’s as hard as you hit, we might have to start training you in self-defense,” Darci said.

A sharp wind suddenly blew through the room, blowing out the candles, throwing paper around, and fluttering all our hair – except Ashling’s.

“I know a bit about self-defense, Darci dear,” the Air witch said with a confident smile.

“Yeah, I stand corrected,” Darci said.  “Goodnight, all.”

“Goodnight,” we chorused, before Marianne, Declan and I trooped outside.

Declan headed for his container while Marianne and I headed to my car.  “Declan, thanks again for coming to my rescue,” I said.

“Of course,” he said. “You’d do the same for me or Darci or Ash.”

“If I could.  I’d wade into a firefight, but I got nothing for a ghost battle.”

“Well, we were loaded for ghost bear,” he said, opening the door to his container.  “Just keep your eyes open.”

“Oh, we will.”

Chapter 24

The bell over my shop door jingled almost as soon as I ducked back into my tiny office for an order invoice.

“Be right with you,” I called out.

“Take yer time,” came back in a familiar brogue.

I dropped my paperwork and popped back out.  “Ashling?  What’s up?” I asked.

She paused to look around the shop for other people and I studied her for a moment while she did.  She was wearing a brown leather jacket I hadn’t seen on her before, but was clearly used and well broken in.  She wore jeans and the pair of hiking boots that usually only came out when she was in the fields or woods behind Rowan West.  A small black leather bag was slung over one shoulder, larger than her normal purse yet slightly smaller than Declan’s messenger bag.  In fact, it reminded me greatly of his bag.

“Nobody here,” I said.  “Just us.”

“Good.  I’ve a favor to ask of ye,” she said, her tone and demeanor super serious.

“Of course.  Anything,” I said.

“Do ye mean it?  Anything?”

“Pretty much.  Perhaps a few things that might give me pause,” I said carefully.

“Good.  Should I disappear or should something happen to me I need to know ye’ll be there for me boy.”

“Of course.  Always,” I said, without reservation but with a sudden fear.  “Why?”

“I’ve a task to complete, ye see.  He can’t know of it, and I hope to be done before school is out.”

“And it’s dangerous,” I said.

“Aye.  Mari’s fault ye see,” she said with a little smile.  “She noticed something odd the other night at the Igby house.  Something both the boy and I missed.  It was right on the porch see, tucked just under the front window,” she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a silk wrapped bundle.  She opened it, revealing a little cloth bag that may have been made from a white sheet and a thumb tack.

“I won’t open it but ye should at least see it.”

“What is it?”

“I call it a fetich,” she said.  “It’s linked to the thing we dispelled.  It means that not only was the thing summoned, but it was given a focal point to target it,” she said, holding up the innocuous pouch to make her point.

“That seems… advanced,” I said, feeling a chill on the back of my neck.

“Aye.  It be Craft.  Yer Mari noticed it and showed me before we left.  I went back and collected it yesterday.  Then I used it to track down its makers.”

“Craft?  There are other witches?”

“Exactly,” she said.  “A pair.  They live in a trailer eleven miles past the Igby house.”

“And I’m guessing they’re not good witches.”

“They’re dabblers in death magics.  Likely low powered witches seeking a boost.  They called that thing for a source of power.”

“Why?  I mean what is their goal?” I asked.

“Goal – their goal is more power – fer the sake of power,” she said, frowning at me.  Then she shook her head.  “Yer a man, a trained soldier, confident in yer skills so it may be hard to understand.  A weak witch is prey.  Yer Mari will never be truly strong but with training and with the amulet Declan made her, she will be a hard target.  But others don’t have what you wear so easily around yer neck.  They would kill to have such a charm.”

“You told me it was valuable,” I said, fingering the wooden amulet.

“Immensely.  But weak witches without such a thing are often easily lured to using death magic as a boost to what the goddess gave them.”

“So they want power to protect themselves?”

“In the beginning, yes.  But then the search for power becomes consuming, like a drug habit.  If a little more power is good, then a lot more power is better, see?”

“So the spirit thing was for them?  Like a pool of power?”

“Yes, or a weapon to send after enemies, like an attack dog.  The fetich will call it back once it rebuilds its power.”

“So you are going to do what?” I asked.

“I’ve two death witches living in near me boy.  I can’t abide it,” she said, meeting my gaze with fierce eyes.

“Does Darci know?”  I asked, then instantly read the answer on her face. “No, of course she doesn’t.”

“Dear Darci is an officer of the law.  She would say I could do nothing to these trumped-up hedge witches till they broke the law.  But Levi, there are no laws against cursing people and using black craft against them because the law doesn’t recognize magic. I won’t wait fer them to strike.”

“You think they’ll find you and Declan?”

“They already know their wraith was dispelled.  They know someone is about with the power to do that.  So they’re already searching, see?  How long till they find out about the shop at Rowan West? How long till they find me and my boy?”

“So what are you going to do?”

“What my clan has always done to death witches – remove them,” she said, with resolve.

“And you need my help?” I asked, now understanding her question regarding anything.

“Not with this, Levi.  Ye be a fish outta water.  Ye have no chance against these two, even protected by yer amulet.”

I was partially relieved she didn’t want me as an accomplice to what sounded like murder, but I was also a little insulted at being described as helpless.

She took in my expression and sighed.  “I don’t have a great deal of time.  If Declan senses this happening, he’ll come to help and neither you nor dear Darci have a chance of stopping him.  He cannot be drawn into this,” she said.  “So listen well.  Ye know how ye have him slapping yer punching bags with his power blows?”

“We call them kinetic punches but yes.”

“Well, they be an uncommon way for witches to fight.  Sure, any witch could do it – once, or twice maybe, but they spend power like a gold digger spends money, as do spells that throw fire or lightning.  It be like a single shot shotgun versus one of Darci’s AR-15’s.”

“So Declan is like the AR?”

She snorted.  “Any of me clan is like the AR. Declan is like the machine gun on a tank.  When he’s grown he’ll be more like the tank itself.  But because most witches don’t have access to that kind of power reserves they fight with magic of the mind.  Spells and hexes that influence a person, makes them forget, or confuses or hallucinate, or do worse, see?”

“Your traps in the hex house did those things,” I said.

She nodded.  “To train him against those tricks.  So these two will be casting illusion and hex, at least at first.  But when that doesn’t work, they’ll have to draw on real power.”

“But you said my amulet would protect me?”

“From hexes and illusion – yes.  From having a knife thrown at you by spell power – no.   And I cannot ward you and me at the same time.  No this be my battle, and I am well suited fer it.  I have power, skill, experience and will on my side. But I will be facing them in their home, their place of power.  Nothing is assured.  So if I don’t come back, I need to know ye’ll help me boy.”

“If they kill you, won’t they come after him?”

“If they kill me, I’ll be taking them with me, never you fear.”

“How can you be certain?”

“I can.  Ye’ll jest have to trust me on that.  Now I have to go.  I’ll come back here when it be done.”

“You’re going out to fight evil witches, to kill them, and you want me to just wait here?”

“Aye.  Tis all ye can do.  But yer wait won’t be a long one.  These things happen fast,” she said, turning and heading out the door.  I watched her climb into her Prius.  She met my eyes through the glass as she pulled away.

I was already reaching under the counter as her car disappeared, tapping the combination into the pistol safe bolted to the shelf.  I pulled out my Glock 26, grabbed the spare magazine and snatched my car keys off the counter.   My jacket was on the hook just inside my office and I shoved my arms through it, pinch checked that a round was chambered in the pistol and then dropped it into a deep pocket.  The spare mag went into the other pocket as I headed to the door to flip the closed sign and turn the lock.  Then I was out the back and into my Jeep.

I headed out of town toward the Igby house on Route 15. Even though I broke the speed limit by fifteen miles an hour, I didn’t see a single glimpse of Ashling’s car.  She had said the witches lived eleven miles past the haunted house so I kept going, pushing the off-road vehicle around sharp corners at speeds far in excess of what a normal Vermonter would ever do.  When my odometer had turned over beyond eleven miles without a sign of her car I turned around and retraced my steps.  There wasn’t a single trailer anywhere near that mile mark, hell, there wasn’t even a house.  I turned down a side road and followed it till the first road to intersect it.  I took that one, a right turn and followed it to another road, turning right again which brought me back to Route 15.

That’s when I started to panic, but the thought of how many times I had told Declan he couldn’t give in to fear popped into my head.  I pulled over and took a deep breath, thinking hard.

Pulling up the map on my phone’s GPS I studied the back roads on either side.  There were quite a few.  How do you find a trio of fighting witches?  You’d have to be a witch. Or would you?  I closed my eyes and leaned back, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  As familiar with meditation as I was, it still wasn’t easy.  Knowing she was out fighting death magic made me so anxious I almost couldn’t do it at all.   Again, I thought of the middle school boy who was likely in the lunchroom at this hour, and I thought of what I might have to say to him.

No.  Not happening. I closed my eyes again and forced my brain to focus on nothing.  It took almost a full minute before I was calm and relaxed enough to mentally picture an eye in my brain opening itself to look at the arcane.  Two seconds later I slammed it shut, opened my regular eyes and turned on my Jeep.  The direction was vividly clear, the greatest sense of raw power I had felt outside of Ashling’s barn.

Cruising slowly down the road I found a turnoff I hadn’t seen.  My amulet suddenly flashed hot as I took the turn onto a gravel road.  I followed it slowly, feeling the power swell, not even needing my third eye now that I was sensitized.

The road left the open farmland of the main road and entered forest.  Thick brush on either side made the back road into a tunnel of sorts, the trees casting long shadows as the amulet on my chest flared hot again.  It stayed hot and got even hotter as my tires crunched gravel, splashed through mud holes and slipped on wet fallen leaves.

A quarter mile or so down into the woods a drive appeared on the left.  A familiar Prius was parked at the end.  I drove past it and turned the Jeep with a multi-point turn.  Parking on the edge of the road, I climbed out and stood, listening, feeling, and touching the still hot amulet.  The waves of power I had felt were gone and the amulet was cooling.  That was either really good or really bad.  I pulled my pistol and started down the driveway, eyes watching for traps and trip lines, ears open, nose sniffing and mind alert for magic.

A figure appeared as I rounded a bend, limping, leather jacket dirty, one jean-clad leg stained red.

I rushed up and grabbed her.  “You’re wounded,” I said, looking at her leg.

“It’ll hold, especially if ye have a bandanna or such to wrap.  We need to leave,” she said.

“Are they…?”

“Yes. But we should remove ourselves before we’re seen.”

I had a combat bandage in the kit in the Jeep and I wrapped it right over the puncture in her left thigh.

“Can you drive?”

“Aye.  Lead the way.  I’ll run these tires over yer monstrous off-road tracks.”

“The shop?”

“Aye.”

Fifteen minutes later I helped her into my studio, her limp pronounced, her face extremely pale.  With shaking fingers, she unbuttoned her jeans and tried to slide them down.  I had to help her, keeping my eyes on her bleeding wound and trying to ignore the light blue panties.

“Knife?” I asked.

“Aye,” she said with a sigh, sitting down on a folding chair, leg out.  “Believe me, the irony is not lost. I warned ye about knives thrown and here I be.”

“Did you leave blood behind?” I asked, mentally steeling myself for a solo trip back.

“No.  I burnt it to ash.  Can you stitch?”

“Yeah, but I have a wound stapler which might be better.”

“Such a boy scout ye are Levi Guildersleeve,” she said, with a pained smirk.  “Would ye hand me my bag before ye go for yer supplies?”

I did as requested then ran and grabbed my trauma kit from my personal go bag.  When I got back, she was sprinkling a brown powder on her wound and chanting softly to herself.

“Birch trees grow a fungus called chaga.  In the right hands it’s a marvel,” she said.

The bleeding had slowed but I still put three staples in the puncture to hold it closed.  Then I put a gauze pad treated with clotting agent and antibiotic over it and taped it down.  She pulled a small cloth packet from her bag, whispered to it in Gaelic and pressed it over the bandaged wound.

“Can ye tape this in place too?”

I did and then helped her into a pair of Declan’s sweatpants that he kept at the studio.  She had me pile the bloody wipes, jeans, her left sock, the combat bandage, and my nitrile gloves in a metal waste basket and then with a wave of her hand, burned it all to ash.  When I glanced her way, I could see she was about all done in.

“Pain?”

“The healing sachet is also a powerful pain suppressant in addition to killing germs and speeding up tissue growth,” she said.

“Tea?”

“Oh, ye be an angel,” she said.

I went and made strong English tea then doctored it with milk and sugar like I knew she preferred.  As she sipped it, I covered her with a fleece throw from my apartment, knowing how  shock can make you shiver.

“What happened?

“I was in their house before they realized it.  Still, they were fast.  One threw a hex and the other threw the knife.  Jest threw it, no magic at all.  I had some surprises of me own and neither were ready for me to shrug off a hex and then blow me powders into their faces.  They went down fast.  I adjusted things to look like they was fighting between themselves and left.”

“Any evidence?”

“Witches be brutal on CSI types, Levi,” she said with a smile.  “No hair, cells, blood, tracks or prints.  The only tracks be the ones our cars left and there be a storm coming tonight.”

The local meteorologist had called for clear skies, but I knew better than argue with an Air witch about weather.

“I want to beat the boy home,” she said, sipping her tea.  I glanced at the clock.

“There’s time.  Rest a bit then I’ll follow you to Rowan West.  What will you tell Darci about your wound?”

“In two hours, it will be half healed.  I’ll take off yer fine work and cover it with a simple bandaid. By morning I can take the staples out and it’ll be mostly healed.”

“That’s handy,” I said.

“Wait till I get yer girl trained up.  A Water witch can seal a cut or a puncture in minutes and heal the whole thing in about an hour.  Now, I’m heading home,” she announced setting the cup down and awkwardly standing up.

I followed her out to Rowan West, watched her climb out of her car and waved back when she entered the apartment.  She was already moving better than I expected.

Nothing happened for several days.  I had dinner at the restaurant twice, but she acted completely normal, as did Darci the one time I saw her.  Declan came for lessons and seemed unaware of anything.

Four days after, a familiar brown commercial truck pulled up and Carl came in with a stack of packages.  “Did you hear about the occult chicks?”  were the first words out of his mouth.

“What?” I asked, not having to act like I was confused for the simple reason that I was.

“Two weirdos living out in the boonies, just off Route 15.  Sheriff deputies found them this morning.  Killed each other.  All kinds of occult shit in their trailer.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked.

“I’m dating one of the sheriff’s dispatchers.  I hear all kinds of shit.”

“Well, you got me with that one,” I said.  “How did they die?”

“One by poison, the other knifed.  Nasty stuff.  Your friend at the restaurant will probably get a call,” he said.

“Why?” I asked, stomach dropping.

“Carly, that’s the girl I’m seeing, said the sheriff wants her opinion on the occult crap.”

“Oh.  Hope they clean it up first,” I said.

Later, as I tucked into a chicken pot pie and a full pint of Guinness, I spotted Darci coming out of the kitchen.  I waved.

“Heard there was some weird shit out on 15,” I said.

“How’d ya hear that?” she asked, face stern.

“You wouldn’t believe the sources I have,” I said.

“Declan?” she asked, frowning.

“What?  No.  My delivery guy knew all about it,” I said.

“Oh.  Yeah.  Nasty scene.  Sheriff wanted Ashling to weigh in, as there were some occult things there.”

“What did she say?”

“Said they were using some highly toxic herbs in their homemade tea.  Medical examiner thinks she’s right, at least based on prelim examination.  Some of the stuff would give you hallucinations.  One stabbed the other and then died from toxins yet unidentified.”

“Is she alright?”

“Yeah.  She’s tough Levi.  Don’t ever doubt it. “

“Oh, I would never doubt that.”

Chapter 25

“I heard they found all kinds of dead animal carcasses, including three coyotes and they found a couple of dead bodies – human bodies,” Declan said, as he stretched on the floor of the studio.

“Well, my own source told me about the animals but where did you hear about humans?  Darci?” I asked him.

“Nah, she won’t say a word.”

“Oh no… you didn’t hack the police computers again, did you?”

“No!  At least, I didn’t,” he replied with a moderate amount of indignation.  “Aunt Darci said I can’t hack official computers anymore.”

“Let me guess… Rory?”

“Close.  Candace.  She’s fascinated by the whole story.  Thinks the women were witches.”

“Oh?” I asked, brows up.  “How’d she come to that conclusion?”

“Well, she knows me.  And Aunt Ash.  She’s really, really smart Levi.  She’s seen what I can do, at least a teeny bit.  She thinks there are quantum mechanics involved.  She believes that paranormal activity is simply science that is yet unknown.”

“Why would death witches live in Castlebury, Vermont? Seems like a strange place to find witches?”

“Exactly.  That was mom and Aunt Ash’s theory, so why wouldn’t other witches arrive at the same conclusion?  Plus, I know for a fact that Aunt Ash has been out to the site a half dozen times for the sheriff.  She won’t tell me anything, but I can feel the negative energy that clings to her, at least until she does a cleansing.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Normally she only visits an alleged occult site once when the department calls her in.  I’ve never seen her visit the same place this many times.  It’s gotta be real.”

“You think she’s concerned?” I asked, probing lightly.

“Death witches living this close?  Shouldn’t she be?”

“Well, they killed each other so, problem solved, right?”

“Most witches belong to circles, Levi.  Yeah, some live alone, but it’s not as common.  She is probably making sure there aren’t others out there who either live close or will come to investigate.”

I hadn’t thought of that.  It was a suddenly concerning thought.  I had deliberately not talked with Ashling about it but now I was worried.  He read my expression.

“Don’t worry.  I don’t think that’s the case.  Candace shared the police file with me, and I think the buried bodies were a couple of other witches.  There were some tattoos on them that point to them being witches, too.  They were most likely murdered by the other two who then killed each other.  Death magic causes insanity and an obsession with power.”

“Is that what your aunt says?  The insanity thing?”

“Yes, but I also read it in mom’s grimoire.  Aunt Ash lets me read certain parts of it, especially the cautionary stuff.”

“I’ve handled just a few grimoires, both good and bad.  They all stung my hands.  I bet your mom’s packs a wallop.”

“Not for me or Aunt Ash.  But yeah, she told me that if anyone else ever touched it, my friends or Darci or you, it would be bad.  She keeps it locked and warded away.”

“Probably the most valuable grimoire in the world,” I said, thinking about it.

“Not if it kills everyone who tries to read it,” he said, pushing his legs into a side split.

“But if they did kill two other witches, wouldn’t those witches’ circles come looking for them?”

“Not if the police identify them and tell the families.  The whole thing has closure, and Aunt Ash will remove anything magical.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, Dec.  If it were me and my sister turned up dead at the hands of a death witch, I’d want to investigate further.”

He stared at me, eyes getting a bit wider as he thought about it.

“Alright, let’s spar,” I said, regretting that I had just added to his list of worries.  Sparring was great for focusing his attention away from his extraordinary life problems.

A week later I had visitors in the store.  A pair of women, one in her early twenties, the other a little older, not quite my age.  Both attractive, but whereas the young one was clearly aware of her blonde good looks, her slightly older mixed-race companion was clearly more serious despite her exotic beauty.

“Hi. Welcome to Treasured Words,” I said, “Please let me know if I can help you find something.”

The blonde tossed her hair a little, but the other focused on me like a M47 Dragon anti-tank missile.  “We were given to understand that you have quite a collection of books on the paranormal,” she said.

“Pretty good, I’d say.  Something in particular?”

“What do you have on witchcraft?” she asked, as they both moved closer.

It’s entirely possible that I’ve been around the O’Carroll family and Marianne enough that my meager Sight has acclimated to witches, because I had a sudden intense premonition.  These two were Crafters or I’d eat all three volumes of the Lord of the Rings.

“Well, let’s go take a look,” I said, stepping out from the counter.  I automatically touched my amulet as I led them deeper into the racks of books.  “Ah, here we go,” I said, pointing to the second shelf from the top in the back front corner of the shop.

“Those are all I have on that subject,” I said.  They filled almost the whole shelf, a result of my own curiosity when I was introduced to Declan and Ashling.

“Wow,” Blondie said, eyes flicking through the titles while her partner focused on me.

“That’s an impressive collection,” the dark haired one said, light green eyes boring into mine.  I felt the amulet heat a little, just slightly, and it seemed to press against my chest.  “Tell me why you have so many,” she suddenly commanded.

It was an odd thing to happen, reminding me more of a military interrogation than a book sale.  Witch plus command plus amulet probably equaled spell, I thought.  Better go along.

“Lots of interest in paranormal and supernatural around here,” I said, which was true.

“Witches in particular?” the blonde asked, her voice as sharp as her companion’s.

“Along with ghosts, Champ the lake monster, UFOs, and Big Foot who is believed common down around Rutland,” I said.  “Vermont is a spooky place. Hell, the whole northeast is. You ladies students at UVM?” I asked.

They exchanged a glance.  “We’re visiting it.  Tertia here is considering it for her undergraduate degree,” the older witch said, smiling.  I felt another pressure from my amulet.  Clearly, she was doing something Crafty to sell her story, but my amulet was brushing it aside.

“It’s a very popular school.  Where are you guys from?” I asked.  “Wait, let me guess… the mid-west?”

Tertia smiled while her serious partner just looked… well… serious.

“Yeah, Oklahoma,” the young blonde said, earning herself a sharp glance from her elder.

“Well, was there a specific title you wanted or just general information?”

“Oh, we want information, right Dunya?” Tertia said.

“Yes, we do.  Why witches?  Are there some around?” Dunya asked, again with intensity.

“Did you hear about the dual murder?  Two women killed each other.  People are saying that they were into some seriously messed up occult practices.”

“We heard something about that,” Dunya said.  “Tell us what you know about it.”

A minor flare of heat and a tiny pressure against my chest.  “They were found like a couple of weeks ago or maybe a little less.  Anyway, it took a few days for the police to comment.  Lots of dead animal bodies in the house and then later they found a pair of human ones. Both women as well.  They haven’t released any identities.”

“And no one knew about them?” Dunya pressed, my amulet flaring again.

“No, but they were apparently really new to the area.  The trailer they were found it had been abandoned for a couple of years.  Didn’t even have power to it.  People are saying they were squatters.  Did you want one of these books?”

“We’ll think about it,” Tertia said, “but don’t get your hopes up.” As one they turned and headed for the door.

“In fact, you should forget we ever came in,” Dunya said, over her shoulder, as my chest warmed again.

“Okay,” I agreed, heading back to my counter.

The bell jingled as they left, and I kept my head down while they stood outside the shop having a discussion.  Then they left, down the street and out of sight.

I texted Ashling instantly.  -Two potential witches just came in, asking about the death witches. Mid-west accents, perhaps Oklahoma-

-Thanks for the alert- she wrote back a few long seconds later.

-asked about books on witches.  Heard I had a collection.  Be advised your shop will likely come up- I supplied.

-Noted.  Will be ready.  Come for dinner-

-Roger that-

I closed shop at the normal hour and then spent some time watching my security system.  The video covering the time the two women were in was corrupted, apparently lost from the system.  I copied the whole afternoon’s footage, including the blank spot, onto a flash drive and tucked it into my pocket.  The I took a looping drive around Castlebury, stopping at the drug store, and then dropping some donated clothes in a Salvation Army collection bin in the parking lot of Hannaford’s grocery store.  I’ve had a lot of training in surveillance and counter-surveillance.  If they were tracking me, I never saw a sign.

After my innocuous errands, I drove the Jeep to Rowan West, noting the wards were down as I entered the restaurant.

“You’re to head right into the back,” the hostess, Molly, told me.

The cooks pointed to the interior door to the apartment, and I let myself in, feeling a truly serious set of wards brush over me.  Darci, Declan, and Ashling were sitting around the kitchen table, and they all turned my way.

“Ah, here is our lookout, in person,” Ashling said with a nod.

“Just like you said, Levi,” Declan said, clearly excited.

Darci just raised a single brow.

“Well, I had a visit from two young women interested in witches, who made my amulet warm up and somehow blanked their visit from my camera system,” I said.

“Footage?” Declan asked, holding out a hand.

I dropped the flash drive into it, and he turned around to pull a laptop from his bookbag.

“That sounds witchy alright,” Ashling agreed.

“Tertia, a young blond with blue eyes, and Dunya, in her late twenties, dark hair, green eyes, Asian African features.  Very commanding, and my amulet reacted each time.”

“Did it stop you from obeying?” Declan asked looking up, very interested.

“Oh, I obeyed all right, because not obeying would say almost as much as obeying, but I did it my way.”

“You think they were from the mid-west?” Darci asked.

“Yeah, clear accent, at least on the young one.  She agreed, saying they were from Oklahoma, which her partner wasn’t happy about.”

“Wasn’t happy they were from Oklahoma or unhappy that she mentioned it?” Ashling quipped.

“The second part,” I said.

Darci and Ashling exchanged a glance.

“The two girls that were buried on the property were both from Oklahoma City,” Darci said.

“Ah.  What about the pair that killed themselves?” I asked.

“Texas,” Darci said.  “We notified the buried girls’ families two days ago.”

“Fast response,” I said.

“Probably already nearby.  Their circle would have sent searchers to find them,” Ashling said.  “And they would send capable witches.  Maeve and me were sent out a time or two.”

Declan looked up from his computer.  “Really?  On search missions?”

“Aye lad.  We always found our witches.”

“Well, these two did a half-way decent job of banjanxing your system, Levi, but not good enough,” the boy said triumphantly, turning his laptop to show us the footage of the two girls entering the store.

“Run it again, lad, then freeze on their faces and blow them up,” Ashling said.

“You mean zoom in on them, right?  Blowing them up would be rude,” Declan said with a grin.

“Cheeky lad,” his aunt responded but her eyes were focused on the screen which did exactly as she asked even though he never touched a key on it.

He whistled appreciatively when the zoom froze on the two witches faces.  “Yeah, right?” I agreed.  “Are all witches attractive?” I asked Ashling.  “I mean, Marianne, you, the pictures of your sister, and now these two.”

“A fair question.  The answer is no, but there do seem to be more that be attractive than not.  Likely a product of selective breeding.”

“Levi, you left me out of your list,” Declan said, pretending to flip his hair.

“Yer in rare cheek tonight lad,” Ashling said.  “Did ye miss the part about witches snooping around these parts?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but froze, head tilted.  His mouth closed and then he blinked.  “You mean the two that just parked out front?  Rental car, Illinois plates, late model Toyota Camry, tag number Alpha Quebec Sierra seven, seven, three.”

I must have looked surprised because he answered my expression.  “When I’m home I can kind of tap into our security cameras at will.”

“And thanks for teaching him a proper phonetic alphabet,” Darci said as she placed a call on her cell phone.  Based on her quick conversation she was running the plates.

“Ye’ll be taking the night off of busing lad,” Ashling said.  “Yer to stay here, out of sight and behind the wards and absolutely no magic,” she said, shaking her finger at him.

“Can I use the cameras?” he asked, all playfulness gone.

“Yes, but only ta watch, get it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Levi, I’ll ask ye to stay here as well.  They’ve seen ye already today.  A second time will like to rile their intuition.”

“Yup, we’ll hang out here and watch the action on television,” I said, pointing to the big screen on the wall.  I no sooner said it and it turned itself on, immediately showing a split of six camera views from the system I had helped Declan install.

The split screen shifted to just two, both showing the main dining room, with the two women from the shop standing at the entrance talking to Holly the hostess.

“They don’t seem to have qualms about using their Craft against innocents,” I said.  “Will she be alright?” meaning Holly.

“Please.  Me people are protected, don’t ye worry,” Ashling said.

“They’re headed for the shop,” Declan called out.

Darci tapped her phone screen to end the call and turned.  “Avis rental to a mid-western company based in Tulsa.  Primary Ingredients, Inc.”

“Health supplement company,” Declan said, whipping his computer around to show the corporate website.

“Lots of witches set up businesses for health products and nature-based products,” Ashling said. “It be a good sign, as the ones who do tend to be faithful followers of the goddess.  Okay, I should go out there.”

“Are they going to figure you out?” I asked.

“I’ve a lot of experience hiding me true nature.  If they had any suspicions, they’d be real stupid to jest to walk right into me place of power.”

“Be careful,” Darci said.

“Of course.”

“I’m going out the back and pulling my cruiser around front then coming in.  They haven’t met me and I’m still in uniform,” Darci said, her tone brooking no argument.

Ashling looked at her.  “Okay Darci Dear, but I’ll ask ye to act normal with me, jest as if they weren’t here.  Don’t tell any lies.”

“I live with two witches; you don’t think I know not to lie?”

“Jest be careful yer ownself,” her partner said.

“Copy that.”

Ashling nodded and then turned and left the apartment.  Darci went out the back and I could hear her department SUV start a moment later.  I turned to Declan.  He was watching me, partly excited, partly anxious.

“Got any snacks?” I asked.

He grinned and darted to the pantry while I moved to the couch.  He came back with chips and jumped over the arm of the sofa to land next to me.  “This will be better than HBO,” he said.

“Could be serious,” I warned.

“I think it’ll be like watching one of those master classes you always talk about,” he said, completely confident in his aunt.

We each took a handful of chips and turned to watch the action.

Chapter 26

The two cameras that covered the dining room of the restaurant just barely showed the table the two witches were seated at.

“Can you adjust that?” I asked Declan.  “Without alerting those two?”

He gave me a side-eye of disbelief, even as he picked up a remote control from the normal collection most people keep on the coffee table.  “I changed out the mounts that came with the system for remote controlled versions,” he said.  On screen the pictures moved slightly as each camera panned slightly to pick up the witches’ table.

“Wish we could hear,” I muttered.  Declan looked thoughtful for a moment then his eyes lit up.

“Wait, I’ve got it covered,” he said, disappearing out the front door.  I watched the two women look around the restaurant, spotting the moment when they noticed the store.  The hostess had seated them on the far side of the restaurant from the shop, so it was no surprise it took some time to see it.

Declan came racing back into the apartment, a strange plastic equipment case in his hands, slamming the door behind him, but instead of heading my way, he left again, out into the restaurant.  He was back less than a minute later, dropping the case onto the coffee table.

“Okay, let’s see what we can hear,” he said, pulling out a tablet computer. The television monitor suddenly added a third window, this one showing a view of the dining room’s floor, like under the tables.  Declan placed the tablet on his lap and typed in a command on the virtual keyboard that appeared.  On the monitor the new view shifted as if the camera was moving across the floor by itself, shifting passed feet and chair legs, table supports and around potted plants.

“Robot?” I asked.

“Yup.  Supposed to be field testing it for the robotics club. This seems like a real good test,” he said.  On screen the robot’s camera suddenly showed two pairs of feet straight ahead; small female type feet, one set wearing high-heeled pull-on boots of the sort called Blundstones, the other feet wearing small black flats.  The two regular screens showed the two witches, but I could see no sign of the robot.

“Now to turn up the volume,” Declan said.

“- the very contents in that shop tell us it was a good idea to come here,” we heard as Tertia’s lips moved.

“Oh?  I think it means the proprietor is perhaps magically inclined.  If so, we just put ourselves in her center of power,” Dunya said.

“Just because the shop sells paranormal crap doesn’t mean the owner is a threat any more than that bookstore guy was any kind of threat,” Tertia said.

“I’m not sure about that one.  He didn’t seem fully responsive to my charm.  And we were told that this lady is a local occult specialist the police use. What are the odds of other witches living this close to a supposed occult expert?”

“Have you felt the power here?” Tertia asked back. “Maybe it is that Mountain Ash out back.  Oh, and just because he didn’t fall all over himself to kiss your feet doesn’t mean he resisted your spell.  He answered all your questions, right?”

“Oddly.  He answered them oddly.”

A familiar figure approached the table on the regular screens.

“Welcome to Rowan West,” Ashling said. “I’m Ashling and you two be new here if I don’t miss me guess.”

“Guilty as charged,” Dunya said.  “You’re the owner unless I too am mistaken.”

“Right ye are,” Ashling said.  “Now, I am honored to host two of the goddess’s own, but I doubt it be mere coincidence that you be here, in my place, tonight.”

“You know what we are?” Dunya asked, simultaneously reaching out to touch her companion’s arm.  The younger witch looked suddenly tense.

I felt the hair on my neck rise like the room was full of static. Glancing sideways, I spotted the cause.  “Easy Dec,” I said. “She’s got this.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the screen, but he did nod.  “I know.  Preparing just in case.  Like I was taught… by you.”

“Fair,” I said.  He had me there.

“I may not be in yer league, but I can still recognize the mark of Herself upon ye.”

“Not a lie because her league is way above theirs,” Declan said, focused on the action.

“We’re following up on the recent murders,” Dunya said.

“Were the murdered girls yours then?”

“Two of our youngest,” Dunya admitted.  “I understand you work with local law enforcement.  We weren’t aware Vermont was such a hot spot for the occult.”

“Tis an older part of the country than Oklahoma, at least in terms of settlement.  Generations leave their mark, they do.”

“What’s with all the power here?” Tertia demanded suddenly.

“That be the old Rowan out behind,” Ashling said. “Twas the inspiration for the restaurant’s name, ye see.”

“Kind of an odd tree for here isn’t it?” Dunya asked.

“Aye.  More common in the UK and such.  I figure this one was seeded by accident long ago.  The property was briefly used as a gardening center some decades ago.”

“Why such power?” Tertia asked.

“I do not know fer sure.  These be old mountains here in Vermont and the seed might have found an old place of power.  At this point it’s difficult to separate tree from ground in terms of energy.”

“Living here, with this source of power, it must make you wonder if those witches had designs on your home,” Dunya suggested, arcing one manicured brow.

Ashling looked at her for a moment.  “Twas a terrible shock to find out that such were living here, jest miles from this place,” she said.  “I ask the same question every day.”

I tensed up, side eyeing Declan.  Was there anything in what she said that might lead him to realize what really happened to the death witches?”

“But I do not believe those two abominations were here long,” Ashling said.

“Convenient that they took themselves out,” Dunya said.  “Stealing the power of our two girls would have left them pumped up and very, very dangerous.  They might have waltzed in and taken you with ease.”

“Aye,” Ashling agreed.  “The goddess provides.”

“She didn’t for our girls,” Tertia said sharply.

“Aye and I’m very sorry for yer loss,” Ashling said. “Perhaps the goddess felt their loss and intervened.”

“Well, you have a wonderful place of bright, clean energy.  I look forward to the food,” Dunya said, after shooting a quick look at her young partner.

“I hope it lives up to your anticipation,” Ashling said.  “Excuse me as I see me partner has jest come in.”

Darci entered the frame and we saw Declan’s aunts hug from two angles, before walking arm in arm to the back of the restaurant.

“What do you think?” Tertia asked her older partner.

“I think we take our people home and put them to rest,” Dunya said.  “After dinner, of course.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that one could have taken on the killers,” Tertia said, picking up her menu.

“Hah, lot you know,” Declan said to the television.

“Regardless of whether she could or couldn’t, there doesn’t seem to be any reason for us to stay,” Dunya said, lifting her own menu.

Declan looked down at his tablet, punching in a new set of commands, which is why he didn’t see what I saw.  On screen, the robot’s view turned back toward the rear of the restaurant, but the other two cameras showed Dunya lifting her head slightly and looking from one camera to the other.  After a pause she too looked at her menu.

I sat frozen in place as Declan went back out into the main kitchen to retrieve his bot.

Chapter 27

Ashling showed up at Treasured Words the next afternoon, about an hour before school was due to let out.  She came in, waited for me to ring up Mrs. Oakes and for the old woman to make it out the door.

“Let me guess… they haven’t left?”

“I got a lunchtime visit from the older one – Dunya.  She said she’d sent her young friend to arrange the transport of their friends’ bodies, ye see.  Said she wanted to thank me.”

“Thank you?  For what?” I asked.

“See, that’s jest the thing.  She never clearly said.”

If you didn’t know the Irish witch well, you might think she was calm and unconcerned.  But her eyes were a little tight at the corners, and her brogue was revved up.  She was upset.

“What exactly did she say?”

“She complimented the food, then innocently asked me if I was part of any circles in Ireland.  I told her me family had relatives that were known to be in circles.  Told her that me own skills had helped me a bit in finding lost children and such.”

“So, no lies, just incredible understatement,” I said.

“Aye.  She smiled polite like but clearly was not fully buying it.  Then she told me the tale of her dead friends.  Cally and Sherry.  Young witches, both, with moderate skills and average power.  Air and Earth.  Then she as much as admitted that she herself was aligned with Air.  Winked right at me, she did, as she said it.”

“She wasn’t fooled?”

“Levi, I had me power plugged tighter than a pub owner’s whiskey barrel.  There should be no way fer her to know what I am. But she continued her tale, saying that the girls had been going through a rebelling stage or some such.  That they’d run from home, headed east.  When the police released their phones, her partner and her found messages to and from the ones that killed them.  Said it was clear that these predators, that’s what she called them, latched on to the girls and lured them to their demise.”

“Well, that seems like she’s fully blaming the death witches, not you,” I said.

“Aye, but it gets weirder. See, at that point she looked around and said that where she’s from, Oklahoma, particularly Oklahoma City, everyone and their sister surrounds their homes with fences and gates.  Something about good fences make good neighbors, and that there be numerous property disputes and such.”

“And where did she go with that?”

“Now don’t be interrupting – I was jest about to tell ye.  So, she says that the lack of fences around here gave her the idea that folks here don’t watch their boundaries.  Says that her partner had much the same impression.  Then, last night, after dinner, she got to thinking about an Irish lady who was an occult specialist for the police.  Thought a woman like that might actually have some gifts and such.  She said that it didn’t make sense that someone like me would suffer a pair of killers to set up shop.  That it occurred to her that me personal fences were perhaps wider than she might have thought they could be.  And if that were the case, perhaps these two killers messed with the wrong fences.  Then she smiled, shook me hand, thanked me again and left.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, Levi – what was there to do.  It was lunchtime, the restaurant was full, and she left right out the front door.  I had to jump about I did, fast as I could, but I got things covered with the staff and then followed.  But all trace of them was gone.  They left town.”

“And you’re worried she will tell someone, maybe back in Oklahoma.”

“Of course.”

“I’m thinking not.  She thanked you multiple times – ostensibly for having an unspoken hand in avenging those witches.  She never out and out said you were a witch.  Never asked you directly if you were a witch. Just implied it.”

“But even so, Levi, what if she should talk about me to the rest of her circle?”

“Listen, she didn’t even bring her own partner with her to thank you.  Sent her on a side errand. That speaks of keeping secrets.  Also, her circle already knows you exist, if only as an unnamed police consultant on the occult, because that much has been in the news. If they give a report, they will almost assuredly mention Rowan West and their interview of you. If the others look into you, they’ll see that you have a web store for goodness’s sake, one that sells occult stuff. Makes you look like someone obsessed with the occult but not really part of it. No articles mention you by name, right?”

“There was one a while back, when I found Declan’s friend Rory,” she admitted. “But me own whiz kid removed if from the web.”

“In intelligence work a little paranoia is healthy.  My advice is to set up wards and spells around this whole area that warn you if any more witches come to town.  That’s just sensible.  But based on what you say she said, it sounds like this Dunya is keeping any suspicions to herself.”

“That is a fine idea.  I’ll take yer young water witch fer some field work this weekend.”

“What about Declan?”

“I don’t want his Crafting signature on anything another witch might come across.  Mari will do nicely though.  And I want the lad to be thinking about his schoolwork and such, not whether witches be coming to collect him.”

She did just that, setting up a series of magical triplines around the town and surrounding area.  Marianne was very excited about all that she learned while helping and I heard about it in detail.  Declan trained in Krav, helped me with the children’s beginner class, and helped his robotics club prepare for a competition.  And for a time, life in Castlebury was quiet.

Chapter 28

“What’s on for tonight?” he asked me, almost bouncing into the studio.  “Weapons, knife drills?”

“Escape and evasion,” I said, waving a hand at the kit I had laid out on a folding table.

“Er, what?”

“Those witches could have ruined everything,” I said.

“The death witches or the ones from Oklahoma?” he asked, confused.

“Either or both.  If they had discovered you or Ashling, it would have brought all your enemies down on us.”

“Not you Levi, just Aunt Ash and me.”

“Us, kiddo.  Darci and I are part of this now too.  Anyway, we’re going to practice skills you would need if you ever had to run at a moment’s notice.”

“Like a go bag?” he asked, looking at my gear. “We already have those.”

“Yes, you do, but not like mine,” I said.  “I’ve inspected the ones your aunt prepared and given her my professional thoughts.  She’s agreed that you and I will modify the contents, practice new skills and bring the whole escaping thing to a new level.”

He looked over the stuff on the table and I could see his eyes locking on different pieces with interest. “Cool,” he said.

“Now, before we delve into equipment and skills, let’s define what and who might trigger us to flee.”

“Witches,” he said with a shrug.  I nodded, walking to the workout white board and writing witches on it.

“What else?”

He frowned and opened his mouth, then closed it and looked more thoughtful.  “Well, it could be death witches, the witches from Ireland, or other witches who want us for our power.  It could maybe be some other occult group too, I suppose.”

“Good,” I said, listing out each of the kinds of witches he’d mentioned, then writing a fourth line with miscellaneous occult group on it.  “Who else?”

He was tapping his lip, then he suddenly snapped his fingers. “Government agency.  Like FBI or CIA or some black ops group.”

“Yes.  What government wouldn’t want to get use of your powers?” I asked, his eyes going wide at the thought.  I listed the new additions on the board.

“I don’t know anyone else,” he said.

“How about organized crime?  Drug cartels or something?” I suggested.

“Shit,” he said, clearly never having considered that one.

“Maybe a religious group that opposes witchcraft?” I added, writing it on the board.

“Wow.  That’s a lot,” he said.

“It is.  And I’m sure there are plenty of others.  But this beginning list helps lets us define who and what we might have to hide from.  That will let us set out the parameters of how and where we might have to operate.”

He looked thoughtful.  “We might have to leave the country altogether – cross into Canada or something,” he said.

“Excellent.  What would that mean for our supplies and clothes?”

He looked at my gear, clearly looking for clues.  “Light weight stuff?”

“Not just light weight but minimal.  We might each have just a daypack and the clothes on our backs.”

“I was thinking backpacking stuff, but I don’t see much of that?” he noted.

“One, I don’t think long term camping is a plausible plan.  Two, having a bunch of camping gear makes you look like a camper.  You stand out.”

“Oh, gray man theory,” he said.

“Yes, we’ve talked about that.  I use it when I travel so that I don’t attract attention when I’m carrying valuable items or seeking something rare.  You want to blend with the locals, not stand out.  That means neutral earth type colors, no labels, no tee shirts with sayings or images.”

“But if you have to live in these clothes, shouldn’t they be tough, warm and help you stay dry?” he asked.

It was my turn to snap my own fingers.  “Exactly.  You need to select fabrics that are sturdy and at least somewhat weather resistant, but still look common.”

“So good boots, like waterproof work boots?” he said pointing to the pair on the table.

“Yes, and notice they’re not new, but well broken in.  That helps me not stand out as well.  And the rest of the stuff is the kind of thing your average working guy would wear.  Base layers of synthetic materials, outer layers of non-moisture holding fabrics.  This workman jacket is canvas duct cloth.  Heavy but it’s treated to repel water, it blocks wind, is lined with fleece and looks like every other working guy out there.  This black synthetic zip up hoody can go under it for extra warmth or be worn by itself.  No visible labels or brand names.”

“Same with your pack,” he noticed.

“Yeah, so what do we need to survive?”

“Water, shelter, food, protection, first aid, and signaling gear.”

“My gear is set up to provide all of those but remain light and non-descript.  You want to learn how to survive in urban settings without a home?  Study the homeless.  They quickly become masters of urban survival or they die from exposure.  The other thing about them is that most people ignore them.  If we go on the run, we want everyone around us to ignore us.  We’ll spend some time in Burlington, observing pan handlers and other folks who are dwelling challenged.”

“So we need to look like nothing out of the ordinary,” Declan said, nodding.

“Exactly.  If I carry a military looking backpack or Darci has a range bag slung over one shoulder, what do you think people will think?”

“That you’re military, or carrying weapons, or something.”

“Exactly.  People pay attention if they think someone has a weapon or is perhaps undercover law enforcement or military.  Not what we want.”

“Therefore, we have to go bland, without labels, carry lightweight gear that doesn’t attract attention but is super functional.”

“Yup.  And if we look at the list of possible people hunting us, what does it tell us?”

“We have to have Crafting supplies to counter the witches, plus stuff to counter the government types.”

“Yes.  Now anti-witch gear is up to you and your aunt.  But keep in mind the need for it to be multi-purpose, lightweight, easily replenishable, and not going to make you stand out. If you go into a store in Montreal asking about exotic herbs or expensive incense, they’ll remember you when your hunters come calling.”

“Well, Aunt Ash is the healer, not me.  She’ll need an herb kit, but me, I get a lot done with string, knife, chalk, some sharpies, salt, and some small candles,” he said, pawing through my gear.  “Ah, I see, a dark watch cap for warmth, but it also hides your hair too.”

“Yes, and work gloves that offer warmth and protect my skin when climbing, breaking into or out of buildings, or any other escape activity.  What else do you notice?”

“You have trauma stuff like CAT tourniquets, chest seals, and clotting bandages.  Your boo-boo kit is tiny.”

Soldiers call small individual first aid kits of band aids, aspirin and antiseptic boo-boo kits.  They’re not essential but useful.  Anti-bleeding trauma gear, on the other hand, is necessary if you’re going to be shot at, stabbed, or travelling over rough terrain.

“Stainless water bottle which you could heat over a fire to purify water,” he said.  “Fire making gear – I don’t think I really need a lot of that, a good basic knife, multitool, water purifying stuff, several flashlights with spare batteries, and what’s this…” he trailed off, holding up a fat, heavy pouch.  He unsnapped it and peeked inside.

“Cash, Declan. Money to buy food, supplies, motel rooms, taxi or bus tickets, or even bribe people.  Notice I have lots of US dollars, but also some Canadian money in case I find myself just over the border.  These here – they’re prepaid Visa cards.  Bought them with cash.  Handy for places where cash isn’t common or even accepted.”

“Cliff bars, packets of peanut butter, foil pouches of tuna fish, and powdered Gator Aide?”

“Yup.  Electrolytes are important when you’re on the run, as are quick calories.”

“You don’t have a lot of weapons.  Two 9mm pistols and lots of magazines of ammo and your knife.”

“Can’t go packing a shotgun or AR-15, not and go unnoticed. If I rock body armor and a full chest rig of tactical gear people will start calling the cops at first sight. Plus if we try to engage in fire fights we’ll be outgunned in no time. So it’s concealed carry in the most common pistol cartridge outside of a .22,” I said.  “Darci’s is similar, but we both have a folding baton too, along with blades.  You and your aunt should have something too.”

“Besides this?” he asked, holding up on hand that lit with flame.

“Besides that.  If you’re hiding from witches and you get attacked by a regular thug, what happens if you bust out some magic on his ass?”

“I alert every witch around,” he said with a nod.

“We’ll work on what you might have as a non-magical weapon.  Maybe a collapsible baton like this one?” I said, pulling the one from the pocket in my pack and snapping it open.

“Yeah, probably shouldn’t have a gun yet,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows. “Most kids your age I would agree.  But you’ve been packing deadly magic your whole life.  We’ll talk to Darci and figure something out.”

“Yeah, maybe.  Hey, these binoculars are kind of expensive… and heavy.”

“Yeah, some guys will carry a lightweight mini pair or a monocular, but I really like those, and they are useful for studying terrain before entering it.  Personal choice,” I said.

He continued to look through the stuff.  “Prepaid smart phone, extra phone cards, power bank, charging cords and a solar charger.  A little walkie talkie, all by itself.”

“Darci has several of the same ones, all set to the same channels.”

“Poncho liner, poncho and lots of parachute cord.”

“That’s a commercial variety of cord that has more than the seven strands of nylon string inside it.  There’s a wire woven into it and a strand of jute cord for fire starting.  I can make a shelter, lash a splint, make a snare or fish for food. Multi-purpose. And the poncho liner is more adaptable than a sleeping bag but almost as warm.”

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up a spool of yellow string.

“Kevlar cord.  We’re going to learn how to get out of plastic zip-restraints by sawing through them with Kevlar cord.  Also see the handcuff key and lock picks?  I can escape or break into locked buildings to hide.  You’re going to learn about that stuff as well, despite your magic tricks.”

“What else?  What else are you going to teach me?”

“We’re going to do some walking about in our escape gear, mainly around Burlington but some other places too.  We’re going to learn to use that map and compass there to travel cross country and we’re going to do some rough terrain travel.  River crossing, steep incline rappels, things like that.  You’re also going to learn to drive.”

“Drive?  A car?” he asked super excited.

“Cars, trucks, automatic transmission, manual, motorcycles, and mopeds.  Not –” I pointed at him, “that you will dare take a car out on the road until you’re old enough, but you need to know for emergencies.  Both Darci and I will be teaching you.  Plus some mechanical work.”

“Like hot wiring?” he asked, grinning.

“Yeah, smart ass, just like that.”

“When do we start?”

“We already have.  When you go home, dig through your gear and put together as much of this kind of stuff as you can.  You have a lot of it already.  Most people do.”

“What about driving?”

“That’ll come.  Leave that to your aunt Darci and I.”

“Okay, this is really cool.”

“Is it?  Leaving home in the dark of night, not knowing if you’ll ever come back again, living out of a twenty-pound pack, wearing the same clothes day after day, cold and wet?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he said.

“It’s not fun, but it can save your life.  But just wait.  You thought camping trips were fun, wait till we sleep in a homeless enclave.”

He pulled back, expression wary.  Good.  This wasn’t supposed to be cool or fun.  But then, he’d learn that for himself quick.

Chapter 29

“Okay, let’s see how you did,” I said when he came back two days later.  He set a well-used daypack on my table and smiled.

“Turns out we already had a lot of stuff to work with,” he said.  “Need to get some more stuff but this is my start.”  He stuck his hands in his pockets and just grinned at me.

I opened my mouth to tell him to get on with it but then closed it as I looked him over.

“You’re already wearing your bug out clothes,” I said, looking him over.  He had beat up hiking boots on, a pair of gray pants, a used old Carhartt jacket in light brown, with a dark blue hooded sweatshirt under it and a featureless watch cap on his head.

“It’s all synthetic.  The pants I had to buy at Target but they’re Wranglers.  I wore them to school yesterday and today and no one said a word.  I had the boots, and this jacket used to be my mom’s back when she was in charge of the firewood.  The sweatshirt has no cotton in it.”

“Socks and underwear?”

“Merino wool socks, gotta buy some synthetic underwear,” he said, hands still in his pockets.

“What else?” I asked.

“Well, Ash and Darci and I were talking about all this the other night.  Darci brought up having layers of gear.  I might have to run straight from school,” he said.

“Ah, good.  You’re talking about every day carry or EDC.  Show me.”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and put a Swiss army knife on the table, a mini sharpie, and a money clip with a bunch of bills in it along with his school ID card, along with a small cloth packet.

“Knives aren’t allowed at school, but I put it in a warded pocket of my bookbag.  Regular people wouldn’t notice the pocket,” he said, poking the knife.  Then his hand slid to the money clip. “Darci said she has an ex-Air Force buddy who keeps a couple thousand dollars in cash on himself all the time.  He says that if he had to drop everything and run, he could pop into a discount or dollar store and reoutfit himself or rent a room, pay for a taxi, and buy meals for a bunch of days if he’s careful.  I only have a hundred and sixty-two dollars, but a couple kids at school owe me for fixing their tech stuff.  It’s a start.”

“What’s the cloth bag thing?” I asked.

“One of Aunt Ash’s healing poppets.  Strong one – trauma level.  It’ll stop massive bleeding, fix a sprain or a burn right up.”

“Even better than my kit,” I said nodding. “But if you use it, won’t you alert witches?”

“It directs all of its energy into the wound.  Very little magical spillage.  You would have to be within ten feet to notice it, except for Ash.  She made it so she’ll know when it’s used.”

From his jacket he pulled out an Altoids tin.  It was held shut with a thick rubber band like the kind parachute riggers use.  “Darci’s idea.  I cut up an old bike inner tube, made a whole bunch of them.”

He opened the little metal container to reveal it was completely packed.  One by one he took out the contents, laying them on the tabletop.  “Mini lighter, trick party candles that Darci tried on me once, a packet of ibuprofen and one of Imodium, needle and thread, a mini-zip tie, a bundle of duct tape, a little compass, a golf pencil, a stick of chalk, and some steri-strips.”

“Why the lighter?” I asked.  “It takes up a lot of space and you have that the whole fingertip fire thing?”

“If I get stopped by law enforcement, this needs to look like the survival kit that it is.  Having a flammable rubber band and candles but no obvious source of flame is suspicious, at least that’s how Darci described it.”

“Okay, anything else on your person?”

He pulled out a very small knife with a one-inch blade.  “Again, she doesn’t want me to trigger suspicion by having a bigger knife.”

“Okay, what’s in the pack?”

“Rain jacket, emergency space blanket, metal water bottle and metal cup, six emergency candles, parachute cord, a little first aid kit, another pair of healing poppets, one strong and one medium strength.  A good knife, matches, some protein bars, a head lamp, a bunch of those disposable hand warmers, some chemical light sticks that we had from a party last summer, another wool hat that’s reversable, green to dark blue. A pair of work gloves, two pairs of spare socks, some underwear, polypropylene long underwear, a small garden trowel, toilet paper, and one of Darci’s walkie-talkies with spare batteries, some quarters and a bit more money and a Wal-Mart gift card for fifty bucks.  Also sharpies, string, sidewalk chalk, and a little collection of simple herbs.”

“Not bad.  And you had all that stuff mostly at home, right?”

“Yeah, although Darci gave me the emergency blanket and the para cord.”

“Alright, we’ll fine tune it over time.  Now the rest of tonight is basics of lock picking,” I said.

I showed him a tension wrench and various rakes, demonstrating on a dead bolt I had installed on a piece of two-by-four which in turn was bolted to a square plywood base.

The first thing he did was just touch the thrown deadbolt with a finger.  A spark flew and the bolt retracted into the lock with a snap.  “That’s how I would do it if I was in a hurry and no witches were right nearby.”

“Shit, you be a nightmare to keep out of the cookie jar,” I said, shaking my head.

“Mom and Ash never bothered with locks.  They used to put a circle around me as a baby because playpens were useless.  I used magic almost from birth and the bars of my pen and crib, whether they were wood or metal, just bent out of my way.  Not long before we met, I ate a bunch of restaurant pies and Ash circled me in the apartment as punishment.  I broke her circle.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds important?”

“If a witch is unlucky or stupid enough to get circled by another witch, it’s a big problem.  The one inside can’t get enough magical leverage to shatter it.  Kind of like how little strength it takes to hyper-extend someone’s elbow.  The witch outside has all kinds of advantage.”

“So how did you do it?”

“Circles, when you’re inside one, will tend to shock you if you touch them.  I ignored the pain and slowly shoved my hand through the barrier, then twisted it to touch the circle from outside.  It shattered, backlashed my poor aunt and knocked her right out.  I felt like such an enormous asshole.”

“What happened?”

“She got over it by the next morning and wanted to experiment, but I wouldn’t do it.  Just sat inside whatever circle she made.  Finally, she got Darci to do the circle closing because she wouldn’t get any backlash when I broke it.”

“That sounds like it’s unusual?”

“Aunt Ash had never heard of it before.  That’s why she got all experimental.”

“So, a circle – could one be set as a trap?”

“Absolutely.  Just like a trip line trap or snare, but made with ink, chalk, sand or ash.  Aunt Ash put a few in Darci’s house but I never fell for them.”

“If you had you could have broken out?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t.  I’d call it game and wait till one of my aunts let me out.  It really knocked her on her butt, Levi.”

“So, keep that in mind.  Should you be evading witches and get in a circle, breaking out would be both unexpected and disabling to your captor.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Also, could you use the heat from those handwarmer packets to recharge your magic?” I asked.

He frowned in thought for half a second.  “Yeah, I could.  Not a lot of power but it could certainly help.  Never thought of that.”

“Escape and evasion is like survival in that much of it is thinking outside the box.  Observe, prioritize your needs, then innovate your way out of the mess you find yourself in,” I said.

“Okay, now try your hand at non-magical lockpicking.”

He picked it up in less than five minutes.  Took me hours and hours of practice and he was snapping them open in minutes.

“I’m an Earth witch, Levi.  Even if I don’t use magic, the metal speaks to me.  Totally passive, no magical signature, but I can pretty much read the lock.”

“You think that will help with mechanical work?” I asked, intrigued.

“I can usually get most old motors to start,” he said, “But I don’t know anything about how they work.”

“Well, you can learn by helping me with some repairs to my Jeep.  After we get that done, we’ll take it to a field or parking lot somewhere and teach you to drive manual.  If you can do that, an automatic transmission is a piece of cake.”

“The only thing I’ve ever driven is the lawn tractor, and once, I drove Rory’s dad’s golf cart for a bit.”

“Driving anything with wheels helps learn the maneuvering skills.  Whether it’s a lawn tractor or a tractor-trailer, turning, backing, braking, and parking are fundamentally the same.  Knowing how that works makes it easier when you throw in stuff like shifting, turn signals, rules of the road, and the hundred other things it takes to drive safely.”

“When do we start all that?”

“Come over this weekend and we’ll install my new light bar, change the oil and the oil filter.  We’ll see how that goes.”

His smile was ear-to-ear.

Chapter 30

“Remember, lefty loosie, righty tightie,” I said.

He snorted. “Levi, I’ve known that forever,” he said, grunting a little.  Only his legs and feet stuck out from under the Jeep.

Sure, I was letting him have hands on, but frankly he fit under the vehicle better than I did.

“Got it,” he said with satisfaction.  A greasy hand came out holding the old oil filter still in the filter wrench.  I took it and replaced it with a new filter.  “Remember, rub a little fresh oil around the gasket before you screw it in.”

“Right.”  A few seconds later his hand came back out for the now empty wrench.

“Don’t torque down on it too hard or the metal strap will crush the new filter,” I warned.  He didn’t bother to answer, but a few moments later he scooted out from under, rolling the mechanic’s creeper fast like he was skateboarding.  “All done?” I asked.

He frowned.  “Yeah, with the filter and I already put the drain plug back into the oil pan, but Levi, I get the feeling something else is wrong.”

“Like what?” I asked, curious.  With this kid you never ignore his feelings.

“Not sure.  Something with the engine,” he said, looking frustrated.

“How can we narrow down your feeling?” I asked.  “What about your rune thing?”

“Oh.  Good idea,” he said, face lighting up at the idea.  “Hmm, what to use… what to use?  Rada?  It loosely means riding.  No, wait,” he said, interrupting himself.  “Cen.  Torch – inspiration – same thing I use on computers and phones,” he said, pulling a marker from his pocket and writing on his left palm.    Then he leaned over the engine compartment and put his hand on the motor, closing both eyes.  A concentration furrow appeared between his eyes.

“Maybe just relax a little?” I suggested, having no real idea of what might help.

He took a breath and let it out, eyes still closed, but face relaxing as he exhaled.  “Ah, it seems like something to do with a wire.  Like maybe I bumped something?”

I looked around the compartment while he continued to concentrate.  A glance at the battery brought my full attention to the obvious answer.  The positive cable looked loose on the terminal.  The screw that tightened the clamp onto the terminal was missing.  Reaching past him I touched the wire and his eyes popped open even as the wire slipped off the terminal.

“That’s it,” he said.

Sorting around for likely looking bolts in my toolbox, I pondered his ability even as I found a couple of likely candidates.  The second one I tried worked perfect and I tightened down the clamp.

“That would have bounced off in no time,” I said.  “You know, if the computer and robot thing doesn’t work out, I bet you’d make a hell of a mechanic.”

“Well, I just knew something was wrong,” he said.

“No, you narrowed down the problem before it actually occurred, and you did it very quickly.  With some experience and training, you’ll probably develop a hell of a skill at it.  Diagnosing mechanical and electrical problems is half the battle.  Make a good fallback skill if you’re on the run or reestablishing yourself.”

He tilted his head, thoughtful, then nodded.  “If I’m known for computers but go on the run and set up as mechanic, I won’t stand out as much.”

“Exactly, and mechanics are always in demand.”

“Can we go driving now?” he asked, already moving on to his favorite new activity.

“Yes, but you have to go gentle with the clutch,” I said.  “I don’t want to replace the transmission until I absolutely have to.”

“I can feel electrical stuff better than mechanical ones.  But I’ve been practicing.”

“How?” I asked.  “Your aunt’s car is automatic.”

“Well, my bike has a kind of a transmission, so when I change gears, I’ve been feeling the bike.  And when I ride with my aunts, I try to sort of listen to the automatic transmission.”

“Well, let’s see if it helped,” I said.  “Hop in.”

We drove out to Darci’s house and pulled out back behind the barn.  There was enough open, mostly level land for him to drive the off-road vehicle, although there wasn’t enough room for him to get going fast enough to need more than third gear and even that sparingly.  But it was enough to learn to feather a clutch and get the feel of manual shifting.

I put the Jeep in neutral, set the brake and then got out.  He practically leapt out of the passenger side, racing around the front.  He pulled the seat forward, put on his seatbelt and then adjusted his mirrors.  In seconds he was ready, practically vibrating with excitement.  Me, I was almost shaking with nerves.  I mean, my Jeep isn’t really all that old, at least four years newer than my Mercedes.

“Alright.  Let’s go, but go easy,” I said.

He put the car in first, then slowly took his foot off the brake, his other foot letting the clutch out.  Last time he’d stalled the SUV about seven times before he got at least a bit of a hang for it.  Today his motion was much smoother, even if his face was tight with concentration.  “Good.  Now listen to the motor as you accelerate,” I said, silently thanking God.  “There, hear that?  Time to shift.”

“I kind of feel it too,” he said, as he shifted to second gear. It was clean and almost slick.  We were bouncing over the grass, following a worn track we’d created in the field our first time out.  “Third?”

“Almost, just a bit more,” I said as we moved faster and faster.  “Now.”

Again, his shift was smooth, but now we were rapidly approaching the end of our straightaway.  Before I could say anything thing, he let off the gas and then a second later, down shifted to second.

“Slower,” I advised.  He used his right foot to tap the brake and then down shifted to first.

“See how the engine actively slows us when you let off the gas?”  I asked.

He nodded, still concentrating on his driving.  “Automatics don’t slow down as fast; you have to use the brakes more,” I said.  “With a manual, I can drive almost without using my brakes at all, and in the winter, it’s much better to down shift on ice than brake too hard and go into a skid.”

“Cool,” he said, finishing the turn and beginning to accelerate again.  Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief.  My Jeep might just survive this after all.

“Levi,” he asked.  “How will I learn mechanics?  Your cars don’t need much work, they’re not that old or run down.”

“Well, it’s funny you should ask.  A buddy of mine is hard up for cash, so I’m buying an old vehicle from him. It’s in real rough shape, but it’s a classic and if we take our time and do it right it’ll be a beauty. If you help me every step of the way, when we get it done, it’ll be yours.”

“What?” he almost yelled, jamming both feet on the brake and clutch, slamming us to a halt.

“I’m serious.  It’s not much money to buy it, but it’s going to take a couple of years to rebuild.  You can help buy some parts, and you will help with the work.  Good way to learn right from the ground up.  By the time we’re done you’ll be just about old enough to drive.”

He stared at me his eyes wide.  “What kind of car is it?”

“A 1972 Toyota Land Cruiser. Tough as nails, I’ve driven them in countries all over the world.”

He just stared at me, speechless.  “Well, keep driving.  You have a lot to learn,” I said.

“Wow, thanks Levi.  That’s… that’s… well, the most awesome thing ever!”

“Yeah, first cars are special, but this one is pretty messy.  It’s rusty and needs lots of work.  When we get it running smooth and make sure it’s safe, maybe we can get a good paint job on it.  You’ll have lots of time to think about colors.”

“Oh, it’s going to be green,” he said, letting out the clutch and bringing the Jeep back up to speed.  “I can’t wait to look Land Cruisers up when I get home.  But Levi, are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not much money to buy and I like to help my buddies out.  The work will teach you a ton about cars, engines and all that.  And it’ll be great off road when we get it done.”

“Off road might be a way to escape pursuit,” he said.

“Yeah, it won’t be a speed demon, but it’ll crawl over all kinds of rocks and stuff.”

“I can’t wait to tell Rory and Jonah about this,” he said.  “Can I tell them?” he asked, frowning.

“Yeah, but what about Candace?”

“She doesn’t care about stuff like that.  Too focused on getting into the right college.”

“Now, I’m serious about the help part.  If you don’t do your part I’ll just sell it, got it?”

“Oh, I’ll do my part,” he said.  “Don’t you doubt it.”

I didn’t.

Chapter 31

“What’s up?” I asked as I entered the apartment.

“Declan has something to ask ye,” Ashling said.  She was at the dining table, papers spread out in front of her.  Darci was popping open a Citizen cider at the fridge and Declan was standing up from the couch, his expression part hopeful part anxious.

“What?” I asked, pausing as the odd vibe of the room hit me.  Ashling was resigned and maybe a little concerned, Darci’s frown spoke of uncertainty and Declan was radiating extreme excitement. I also noticed that the wooden container that held Ashling’s rune chips was sitting by her elbow.

“My robot club won the regional finals,” he said.

“Ah, I know… I was there… remember?” I asked.

“Well, we’ve been invited to nationals… at the Houston Space Center… in Houston… Texas.”

“Oh,” I said, processing that tidbit.  The Castlebury Robot club had been achieving tremendous success the last few years, making it to state finals and placing high in the standings.  This year brought the top spot, and I knew very well that much of that success was due to Declan’s preternatural skill with tech and computers. “Are you going?” I asked, shifting my eyes from him to Ashling.

“I’ve given a conditional yes,” his aunt said before he could speak.  “It be a risk, but I’ve read the runes three time.  It should be okay, but only if certain conditions apply.”

“Such as?”

Ashling turned and looked at Declan and he immediately took the cue.  “Levi, would you, ah, consider being a trip chaperone?”

I wanted to ask a question, but I could tell from how closely all three watched me that I already knew the answer.  “Yes.  When?”

“Thank you!  Ah, next month,” Declan said.

“Let me guess – somehow that was one of the conditions?”

“All three of us need to go and it should be alright,” Ashling said.  “Darci has said yes, and the restaurant should be fine for a few days under Merry.  She knows about as much as me by now and she can always ring me up, right?”

“Sure,” I said.  “I can close the shop for the duration too.”

“Mr. DeAngelo said we needed at least four chaperones besides him,” Declan said.  “Most of the parents can’t go, although Candace’s mom said she would go.”

“Nationals huh?” I would guess there might some media attention,” I said.

“Aye,” Ashling said, tapping some of the papers in front of her.  “It be a big deal.  So we’ll be fudging photos and such, right lad?”

“Yes, Aunt Ash,” Declan said.  “Maximus Mark Seven will be fully programmed before we leave, so I just have to be ready to trouble shoot.  I should have lots of time to focus on messing up cameras.”

“Ye must be subtle boyo,” she warned.  “Jest blur my face and yers a bit, so we be unrecognizable.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The month passed quickly, the robot club kept busy raising money for trip expenses, getting paperwork ready and preparing their award-winning robot for a higher level of competition.  The national was similar but much harder than the regional one.  The robot league that Castlebury participated in was sponsored by a number of giant tech companies and also NASA, hence the use of the Houston Space Center for the venue.

What I had seen in the regionals was a game, obviously designed by techy types, that involved robots gathering a required number of energy cubes that would, according to the game backstory, power a set of space station defenses to protect the station from a number of different threats.  At the level I had already witnessed, if the robots gathered enough cubes, they were then cleared to activate forcefields and the robot then manned lasers that would either deflect or shoot down dangers such as asteroids and space debris.  Each robot had to autonomously gather the cubes then the team would use remote controls to have the robot boot up the forcefield and manually fire the station lasers at random incoming targets.

Each robot had to be able to detect and navigate the playing field, locate and gather cubes, load the cube into the power bank receptacles.  The design had to handle several daunting tasks as well as allow a human operator to remotely control a firing mechanism to target moving objects.  I had been blown away by the sophistication of the robots and their young designers.

Declan’s team was comprised of both middle and high school students who, under adult supervision and guidance, had designed, built, programmed and operated a stunningly effective model that had won the games.  The National competition was apparently, much harder.

“We have individual matches, one-on-one, and then bigger, combined matches, where we are paired with other competing teams to accomplish the same tasks plus a bunch more, including defending against remotely piloted drones pretending to be satellites,” he said.

“Wow sounds like NASA is looking for real inspiration from all you kids to advance the national space program,” I said.

“That’s what Mr. DeAngelo said too.”

“And you do all the software?”

“No, there’s a senior who writes a lot of it, but I debug it, fix conflicts and create workarounds for problem solving. His name is Nathaniel.  We work pretty well together. We’re working on a new targeting program now.”

“And Rory and Jonah do a lot of the actual building right?”

“Yup, along with some of the high school kids. Candace and a girl named Cassidy work out game play strategies and share the operator job.”

“Really?  I wondered why I didn’t see either Jonah or Rory run the bot.”

“The girls are better at the controls.  Totally drives the guys crazy.”

“What about you?”

“Too much of a risk,” he said.  “The operators get a lot of attention during matches.  Programmers don’t.”

“Ah.”

Trip day arrived, and we all met at the high school for a bus ride to Burlington’s airport.  Everyone was introduced and I realized that at least half the team consisted of high school kids.  Declan had told me about them but meeting them in person forced home the realization that these young soon-to-be adults might require more supervision than the middle school kids I already knew.  Declan’s fellow programmer, Nathaniel had a beard, and the girls were much older looking in dress and figure than I had anticipated.  The look in their eyes was a bit too adult for my liking.

“Ye jest keep an eye on me boy and his lads, Levi, and leave the lasses under our watch,” Ashling said to me quietly.  “Between Darci and meself, they won’t pose a problem.”

I breathed a mental sigh of relief as I looked the kids over and nodded to Candace’s mom, Doreen.  There were two sophomore girls, a junior boy, and one of each sex from the senior class.  I had somehow expected a bunch of nerds, but instead found myself facing a handful of young adults who looked and dressed much older than I remember my own peers did at that age.  But they all seemed focused on packing their robot gear and competing.  Despite his older appearance, Nathaniel was mostly quiet and serious, but he treated the younger team members well.  His counterpart, Cassidy, looked like she could already be in college, but while she was much more outgoing, she also seemed very competitive.  In fact, she thanked Ashling, Darci and me for volunteering as the trip couldn’t happen without the prerequisite number of adults.

We loaded aboard a bus which took us to the airport.  I expected security to take longer to clear us, but Tom DeAngelo had prewarned the airport, and his team had followed TSA directions for packing their gear exactly.

When we boarded the plane, I ended up next to the teacher, across the aisle from Declan who was seated next to Cassidy.  Despite the age difference, he chatted easily with her, showing none of the awkwardness an eighth grader might normally have with an attractive senior girl.

“He’s going to go far in computers,” Tom DeAngelo said, quietly.

“Got a gift for sure,” I said back.

“A crazy gift.  Kid figures out stuff and I don’t have a clue how he does it.  Almost intuitive.”

“That’s gotta be helpful for the team,” I said.

He snorted.  “He’s got Maximus doing so much autonomous stuff that we should sail through that part of the program, and he even put in subprograms that will help the operators during their part.”

“He said Nathaniel did most of the programing?”

“Oh, Nate has written the framework code and it’s very solid and problem free, especially since Declan helped debug it.  But all the extras came out of that middle schooler’s brain.”

“Well, he wants to go to college for programming, so it sounds like a good fit,” I said.

“Not to pry or anything,” he started, those words always an indication of prying.  “But how do you fit in?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Well, he says you’re not related and those two are partners so…”

“Ashling hired me to teach him self-defense and I’ve become very close to the three of them.”

“Oh, because of the…”

“Pedophile?”

“Yeah.  But I thought you sold books?”

“I do, but I used to be an unarmed combat instructor in the Israeli Defense Force.”

“Oh, good to know,” he said then went quiet for a time.  I broke out a book from my carryon and started to read.  Across the aisle, it appeared that Declan and Cassidy were playing a card game which she seemed to be winning.

We landed a short time later in Charlotte, North Carolina.  We had a two-hour layover and we set up in the food court, letting the kids buy lunch from the various options where we could keep an eye on them.

The second flight was a bigger plane and I found myself next to Declan on one side and Rory on the other.

Rory reached across me with a notebook.  I could see a joke written on it. When Chuck Norris was born, he drove his mom home from the hospital.

A few seconds later Declan passed it back with new writing on the page. Chuck doesn’t flush the toilet.  He scares the shit out of it.

It came back a moment later.  The flu has to get Chuck Norris shots every year.

Declan sent it back.  Chuck can hear sign language.

I grabbed it, showed Rory the joke and then wrote my own while both boys watched.

Chuck Norris starred in Star Wars.  He was the Force.

They both laughed and settled back for the rest of the trip, playing games on phones and tablets.

When we landed, we collected all the robot gear, our luggage and head counted the kids, then bused to the hotel.

“Put your stuff in your rooms then come back to room 314 for a team meeting,” Tom told them.  314 was the room he and I were sharing, and it had a big common area where the team could meet and store their competition gear.  Declan was in with his pals, Nathaniel and the Junior boy, Eric, roomed together, while the two sophomore girls, Mia and Pam had their own room. Cassidy was paired with Candace which seemed like it would be a huge problem – an eighth grader and a senior.  The reality was Candace acted like she was five years older than she was.  They were the two main operators and Cassidy had been accepted into some of the colleges Candace was stalking so they had much in common.

Within twenty minutes they were all back, although Ashling, Darci and Rory’s mom were out making dinner arraignments for all of us and unpacking their own stuff in their own suite.

“First, we need to check the robot for any travel damage,” Tom said, but the kids already had the travel cases open, and Maximus was out.  I’d watched the competitions but never been right up close when they were in their team pit or at a practice, so I hadn’t been this close to it before.

Maximus had a six-wheeled articulated frame with an independent motor for each wheel.  On top of the frame was a flat section about four inches thick that housed the motors and much of the electronics.  The rest of it was a metal framework that looked like it was made from an Erector set on steroids. It had a sort of scoop-like design that tossed the energy cubes into a hopper, a conveyor that fed the stored cubes into the arena’s receiving bins and a long folding arm like a double-jointed excavator with a grasping claw on the end.

From what I understood, the robot collected the cubes on its own, running on the programming that Nathaniel and Declan wrote.  It found the cubes, scooped them and when it was full it delivered them to the bin.  When the required number of cubes had been loaded into the team’s bin, the robot went to operator mode and either Cassidy or Candace drove it to the controls where it activated all the defense systems with its articulated arm.

I was sitting against a wall, watching and sipping coffee.  Cassidy and Candace sat near me, checking over the main operator control rig and the spare.

“Isn’t Maximus cool, Levi?” Candace asked me.

“Yeah, way more sophisticated than I ever expected,” I said.

Cassidy smiled at me.  “He really is.  He’s more sophisticated than most other teams’ bots.  That wouldn’t normally be a good thing as the more complicated bots tend to break in competition, but Max just seems to really work well. His programming is crazy cool, and he learns how to do his tasks better as he goes.  Gives us a time advantage.”

“And some of his programming makes our job easier,” Candace added. “Like his new targeting program.”

“Well, maybe NASA will want to buy him or hire you guys or both,” I said.  There happened to be one of those quiet moments in any group when I spoke and the whole team looked at me.

“Just saying,” I said.

“That would be sick!” Jonah said.

“Well, the truth is that some of the sponsors give out pretty big scholarships for STEM based education majors,” Tom DeAngelo said.  “These kids have a real chance at some of those.”

Our fellow chaperones entered, carrying stacks of pizza boxes, chips and drinks.

“When we’re done here, I want you all to go back to your rooms and settle in for the night,” Tom told them as dinner wrapped up.  “We have an early start tomorrow.  I don’t want to catch anyone out of their rooms after eight. I’ll send you right home if I do.  We’ll be checking in at eight and taping your doors.  See you in the morning.”

The team filed out and the adults were left alone.

“Think anyone will sneak out?” I asked.

“Guaranteed,” Doreen said with a grin.

“Oh, I think not,” Ashling said.  “They’ll be staying snug in their rooms.”

“I got twenty dollars says they don’t,” Doreen said.

“I’ll take yer bet.”

CHAPTER 32

Doreen handed over a crisp twenty at breakfast the next morning.  None of the tape over the doors had been broken.

Most of the high school kids looked oddly disgruntled, or perhaps self-disgusted maybe, as they filled plates with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast from the hotel buffet.

“Sleep alright?” Tom asked when most of the kids were seated.

“Yeah,” Mia said.  “Must have been really tired from travelling, because I went to bed early and passed right out.”

Several grunts of agreement sounded from the others.  Declan’s trio looked a little tired though.  “We stayed up and played video games,” Rory announced.

“They played,” Declan said.  “I watched.”

The fact that none of the other kids commented on his admission told me that the whole team had some idea of his unusual skills.  But the number that had gone to bed early told me how Ashling had won her bet.  Sleep inducing spells.

“Eat up, get your gear and meet at room 314,” Tom told them.  “We have to get to check in and have Maximus inspected by the judges.”

An hour and a half later we pulled into the Houston Space Center.  It was already packed and there was a line of buses ahead of us, dropping off the other teams.

“Just park in the back,” Tom told the bus driver.  “We’ll get in faster if we just haul our gear on foot.”

There was surprisingly little resistance to that idea from the kids, but then most of the plastic cases had wheels and there was more than enough of them to transport the gear the couple hundred yards to the Center.

Every kid on the team wore a yellow and orange construction grade safety vest with their name on the back and the school’s name on both back and front.  The adults had lanyards with special passes that Tom had provided.

Houston was humid and already starting to warm up, but the team was in high spirits as we entered the building, checked in, and found our staging area.  Then as the younger students set up the robot pit as it is called, under Mia, Pam and Eric’s supervision, Tom took the two seniors to have Maximus inspected.

Soon enough they were back.  “All set.  First match is at ten fifteen.  How’s the equipment?” he asked the others.

“Everything is nominal,” Eric told him, Mia and Pam both rolling their eyes at either his word choice or his presumptive reporting, or both.

“Let’s go check out the arena,” Tom said. I followed, leaving the women chaperones to settle in at the pit area and watch the gear.  Competition was fierce and Tom had a rule that team gear was never to be left alone.

“Whoa,” Rory said as soon as the competition arena came into view.   I should say arenas, as the massive space dedicated to the contest held four of them, each twice as large as the regional game spaces.  NASA banners were everywhere and each of the four arenas were named after one of the big tech sponsors.  Smaller companies had their sponsorship flags posted all over the walls.

“These are massive,” Nathaniel said in awe.

“They are a bit bigger than I thought,” Tom said, turning to his oldest programmer.  “Any issues with modifying Maximus’s programming.

Nathaniel held himself straight as he answered.  “Shouldn’t be an issue.”  I noticed he never looked at Declan, but Tom did.  Dec was studying the game sites, very focused but he did turn to the teacher and nod.

We got closer to one of the arenas and a company representative pointed out a QR code the kids could use to download the specifications.  “Each of the four arenas is slightly different,” the woman mentioned.

Tom broke the team into four groups, sending each out to get the specs on a specific game pitch and report back.

“How’s it looking?” I asked him as he wore a frown.

“Oh, I think it’ll be okay.  The judges have designed these courses to test for adaptability.  Maximus is pretty adaptable but even more so with us tweaking things here and there.”

The group looking over the first arena was back quickly, reporting to Tom who wrote the name of the arena on a portable white board, as well as its overall size, number of energy cube receptacles and location of defensive controls.  Groups two and three came back next, adding their data to the mix and finally, Declan and Rory came back from the fourth.

“They all require Maximus to connect directly to the weapons system through standard fifteen pin game ports,” Rory said.

“Which explains why we were required to install one on him prior to coming here,” Candace said.

“But we put it on board his chassis, not his manipulator arm,” Pam added.

“Why not hook a short connector cable to the port in his body and then zip tie it to his arm?” Jonah suggested.

“Did we pack one?” Tom asked.

“No,” Mia said.

“We have one with us in our personal gear,” Rory said, heading to his backpack.  He pulled out some portable equipment including a sophisticated-looking controller unit.  Pulling off a cord he handed it to Mia.  In moments, the build team and Tom were swarming over the little bot, while the Candace, Cassidy and Nathaniel watched.  Declan, however, pulled out his laptop and started typing away.

“What are you writing?” I asked him.

“I’m adding some code to his manipulator arm to allow a better degree of control for Candace and Cassidy to plug into each arena’s control port.  I noticed that none of them have the port in the same orientation.  One was right side up, but the others were upside down or sideways. They’ll have to spin his claw around to get it right.”

“Good thinking O’Carroll,” Cassidy said with a smile.

Nathaniel, however, first looked mildly surprised, then a little annoyed. “Just don’t mess it up.”

“Since when has he ever messed up code?” Candace asked.

“We have scholarships riding on this,” the senior boy said sternly.

“Riding on him,” Candace said under her breath, but I was close enough to hear her.  Cassidy gave her a glance and a nod as well.

“Here, check my work,” Declan said calmly, handing the laptop to Nathaniel.

“Castlebury Conquerors, you’re up in fifteen minutes at the Google arena,” a man wearing a judge’s badge said suddenly.

The team exchanged looks and then hunkered in to finish their modifications.  Soon enough Maximus was rolling through the entrance gate into the game pitch.  Darci, Ashling, Doreen and I all found seats in the viewing stands.  The other team’s robot rolled into the arena, looking both smaller and less complex than Maximus.

A pair of lights hung over the arena, one red and one green.  The red light suddenly went out and the green lit up.  Both bots instantly started to search for cubes in their own color.  Castlebury’s were blue and the other team, named the Detroit Destroyers, were after yellow ones.

Maximus moved in a sinuous snakelike way, articulating at each of the two main joints.

“That thing always reminds me of a centipede,” I said to Ashling and Darci.  Ashling’s hands suddenly shot out to each side, grabbing both of us.  Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she shook in place for like three seconds.  Then her grip on my arm relaxed and her eyes opened.  She was breathing hard, but her eyes were alert.  Doreen on Darci’s far side didn’t seem to notice anything.

“What the hell was that?” Darci demanded in a whisper.

“A vision.  I do think it be triggered by the word centipede,” Ashling said, blinking.  “I saw a flash of me boy – older – and a giant metal centipede.  Jest a flash.”

“Good or bad?” I asked.

“Bad… mostly.  But not fully?”  She sounded uncertain.

“Bad like dead bad?” Darci asked.

“Injured maybe.  I saw a girl… a blonde.  She seemed worried for me boy.”

“Seemed?” Darci asked.

“She was carrying him, see.  In her arms.”

“A big girl?”

“No.  Average size but beautiful.”

“And the contest goes to Team Castlebury!” the lead judge suddenly yelled out.  We looked up and saw our team jumping up and down in excitement, Declan wearing a huge grin, the board on the arena blinking with their finished time.  The other team’s bot was just rolling up to its defense controller.

“What does it all mean?” I whispered to Ashling.

“Means I’m taking meself off somewhere quiet like and rolling the chips,” Ashling said, standing immediately.

“Not without me,” her partner said.

They left and Doreen looked at me, surprised. “What happened?”

“Low blood sugar, maybe,” I said.

“She ate a big breakfast,” she protested.

“Fast metabolism.”

“Is that how she stays so trim?”

“Sure.”

Down in the robot pit Declan was hugging his buddies but he turned to look for us and frowned.

I gave him a quick smile and thumbs up, but he wasn’t buying it.  I mouthed the words Don’t worry.  Later.

He nodded and went back to his friends, but his smile was much smaller.

Chapter 33.

“Where are my aunts?”

“Ashling had a vision and went to roll her rune chips,” I answered.  Some might think it wise to avoid telling a youngster anything, but most have also never dealt with powerful witches.

“About?  Me?”

“Not everything is about you,” I said.

“That’s a yes,” he said, eyes locked on mine.

“Yeah, something in the future.  Years from now.”

“Oh,” he said.  Then he smiled.  “Okay.  That means I have a future.”

“Pretty positive way to look at it,” I said, impressed.

He shrugged.  “We’ve been in hiding my whole life.  I’m kind of always waiting for the shoe to drop.  You know… like those death witches that mysteriously killed each other.”

It took every ounce of military training and experience in handling sensitive information to keep my face blank.  “I guess that would tend to make someone a little paranoid.”

“Is it paranoid if they are actually out to get you?” he asked.

“Hey Declan, come on,” Jonah yelled from the robot pit.  The rest of the team was working on or around Maximus, except Nathaniel, Cassidy, and their teacher.  Those three were all talking with people who had watched the contest.  Based on hat and shirt logos, some were clearly big tech company types, but other may have been with NASA or other government agencies.

“No rest for the victorious?” I asked.

“We have another match in a little over two hours.  The arena is different and so are some of the match parameters.  We have to adapt Maximus.”

“How come the chief high senior programmer isn’t handling it?” I asked, deliberately sarcastic.

“Mr. DeAngelo offered the seniors up to the sponsors to discuss our win and our bot,” he said, looking at the trio.

“But if the next win is so important, why isn’t he involved?” I pressed, mostly because I was interested in how he viewed it and it diverted us from the vision.

“You know why, Levi.  They are working the big shots for scholarships or references, for college stuff.  Plus, I tend to handle any software tweaks.”

“I do know, but I just wanted to see how you felt.”

He shrugged.  “I cannot be the one to get the attention.  We both know that.  Plus, I’m not even in high school yet.  They,” he waved at the onlookers, “wouldn’t believe an eighth grader was responsible anyway.”

“Still, it has to sting,” I asked.  Cassidy shook the hands of the people she was talking with and headed back to the pit.  She looked at her team then turned her head back and forth until she spotted us.  “O’Carroll, we need you in the pit,” she called with a smile.

“It does a little, but the team knows,” Declan said, waving back, his own smile forming.

“And the pretty senior girl knows too, right?”

He gave me a wicked grin.  “You know what?  That does help… a lot!  Gotta go.”

Trotting over to the pit, he was instantly drawn into a conversation with the two operators, while Rory waited impatiently for his turn.

DeAngelo and Nathaniel were still engaged with the sponsors, but it looked like they were wrapping things up.  I went looking for the aunts.

Finding them in the sea of people that swarmed the space center looked like a daunting task.  Ashling would want privacy and would undoubtedly cast a spell to keep people away. Which is exactly how I would find them.

Roving through the busy perimeter of the giant workspace that had been dedicated to the contest, I looked for odd or unusual patterns in the people around me.  People clustered and swarmed in clear groups around robot pits and arenas, as the matches were fought.  There were cheers and even some yells of dismay as teams competed and lost, just as there were interested sponsors observing all of it.  NASA employees were moving around to troubleshoot power needs, supply forgotten cords or parts, and help keep the competition running smoothly.

On my second trip around the massive space, I noticed that no one stood near or approached a door that had a paper sign reading LOUNGE.  Slowing to watch, I observed several people skirt the area around the door without seeming to be aware of their actions.   As I got closer, my necklace suddenly tingled. Bingo.

I had no issues approaching the door, but my fingers tingle as I opened it to peek inside.  Several people stepped out around me in exaggeratedly wide arcs, their attention focused elsewhere.

The two women who looked up at me from the back of the room were exactly who I wanted to see.  It appeared that the lounge was normally a conference room, based on the big table, surrounding chairs, and giant wall monitor.  At the fair end of the table, Ashling and Darci sat with a spray of Rowan wood chips in front of the witch.

“Now even me easiest spells aren’t working,” Ashling said, her expression one of dismay and frustration.

I reached in my shirt and pulled out the Declan-made necklace for her to see.  Understanding bloomed on both faces and Ashling looked a bit relieved.  “Forgot about that trinket I did,” she said.

The door safely closed behind me, I moved over and sat on Ashling’s other side.  “Not going well?”

She sighed.  “It’s foggy.”

“She thinks he lives through it though,” Darci said.

“It seems so.  He’s years older, though less than a decade,” Ashling said.  “And it happens in a big city, New York perhaps.  He’s very much involved with something to do with computers.  I think being here, in this shrine to technology, helped bring about the vision.”

“You said there was a centipede?”

“A robot, but big – huge even.”

“What about the girl?” Darci asked.

“She’s involved with him somehow. Beautiful yet… odd.”

“Odd?” I asked.

“Strong.  Carrying him like a sack of feathers.  Her eyes are a strange shade of yellow.  She’s upset, wearing a white lab coat that’s far too big for her.”

“Anything else?”

“There are others.  Worried and trying to help, but I cannot see them clear, like I can him and her,” she said.  “I cannot see much but I have feelings about it all.  It’s a pivot point, what me mother would call a knot in the weft and weave of time.  Something important has occurred, something my lad is at the heart of.”

“Any other details?”

“No.  Jest that it is somehow vital to everything.”

“When you saw him, wounded and being carried, had he accomplished whatever it was?”

“I do believe, Levi, that he did.  Did he ask where we were?”

“Yes.  I told him you had a vision.”

“Great,” Darci said, clearly meaning just the opposite.

“The Rowan chip didn’t fall far from the family tree,” I said, staring back at her.  “He knew something happened, and he knew it was about him.  I told him it was years from now.  He said cool and went back to work on the next match.”

“He said cool?” Darci asked, eyebrows up in disbelief.

“Words to that effect.  He said he’s happy that he even has a future.”

“It be right to tell him what ye did,” Ashling said.  “We can’t lie to him Darci dear.  He’ll know and we’ll lose his trust.”

“That’s always been my view on things,” I said.  “But when Cassidy called him to get Maximus ready, he was off like a shot.”

“Is he crushing on her?” Darci asked.

“He’s a middle school kid who regularly has the full attention of a senior girl.  The math is very simple Darci,” I said.  “But I don’t think he sees it unrealistically.”

“One thing I will insist on,” Ashling said.  “We don’t tell him details.  No robot bug, no beautiful amazon girl, and no city.”

“Because it might influence the outcome?” I asked.

“Exactly.”

Chapter 34.

They came in second overall.

Lost the final match by just a few seconds.  So few that I was a bit suspicious.

Maximus had been brilliant throughout the entire weekend of matches, beating the competition with ease.  I overheard Candace tell her mother that the bot practically did all the work of shooting down the attacking spacecraft, by itself.  That it almost plugged itself into the control unit, requiring just the most minimal of adjustments to get the multipin plug into the socket, no matter how the socket was oriented.  And that she and Cassidy only to pull the trigger when the robot told them the shot was good.

The winning team was from California, a very well-funded group of highly intelligent kids with a teacher who had been hired away from a defense industry company that made military bots.  Their bot, R2WillDo, was pretty advanced, in fact it looked more advanced than Maximus.

But it wasn’t as smooth.  A bit clunkier at navigating the course and slightly slower at delivering the energy cubes to their receiving bays.  Just little differences, slight hesitations here and there.  But the real difference was Maximus’s targeting program – Declan’s baby.  Every other match, that program had allowed Castlebury’s team to shoot down the attackers with ridiculous ease.

Then, during the last match, Maximus froze up temporarily, just a few seconds really.  But it was enough for the other team to kill off their final attacker, leaving our team behind.  Declan was completely baffled as to how it happened, why it happened.  The kid that could talk to computers couldn’t figure it out. He took the loss really hard.

“I’m telling you Rory, the program didn’t glitch,” he told his friend for the tenth time.  The other kids had stopped listening. But I heard him the first time, and while I know diddly squat about robots and computers, I know a great deal about sabotage.

“I can get that Levi,” Jonah said, coming over to where I was inspecting Magnus’s battery array.

“Johan, are those fuses?”

“Of course, Levi.  Maximus has all kinds of fuses.”

“And they’re all okay?”

“Well, we haven’t checked them all yet, why?”

“Well, I don’t know about this stuff, but the way the program froze up, I thought maybe there was a power surge or a fuse that went out.”

“Wouldn’t have been a fuse or else something would likely be damaged,” Tom DeAngelo said, coming up behind us.

“What about the connection cord?  The one that Rory donated?” I asked.

Jonah bent over the robot’s manipulator arm to look at the cord.

“I don’t think that was it or the program wouldn’t have come back,” Tom said to me.

“Oh, just a thought,” I said.  “All my tech problems seem to be bad cables and blown fuses.”

“Bad cables tend to cause blown fuses,” Tom said, nodding and smiling at my weak diagnostic skills.

“Mr. DeAngelo, one of these pins is snapped off,” Jonah said, looking at the end of the controller cord where it had been plugged in and out of various defense control ports all weekend.

“Really? Let me see that,” Tom said, suddenly serious.  “Well, I’ll be.  You’re right.”

“Would that have done it?” I asked, as the rest of the team moved up to listen in.  I looked the kids over, my eyes finding Nathaniel.  His face was an emotionless mask which I found odd as he had been various degrees of angry, upset and frustrated when they lost the match.  Then, when it was all over, and the awards were about to be handed out, he’d publicly praised Declan’s work on the bot, mentioning the targeting program in particular, in a way that sounded like an accolade but really just held Declan out to dry.  Now he had all the expression of a sheet of ice.

“The question isn’t would it have done it, but how it functioned again at all?” Tom said, shaking his head.

“Well, the broken pin fell out just now, when I tipped it,” Jonah said.  “Maybe it was partially broken through, enough to cause a little surge but not fully broken?”

“Hmm, perhaps?”

“Hear that dude?” Rory said to Declan.  “It wasn’t your program after all.  Just my stupid cord, although it was brand new.  But hey, it was never made for that kind of abuse.”

I had my doubts.  Declan had often commented that as an only child of high-income parents, Rory had the best gear going.  That and the micro flash of anger I saw cross Nathaniel’s face when the broken pin was discovered.

Several contest sponsors showed up, although most of them were still with the winning team.  Nathaniel greeted a couple of them by name while several congratulated the rest of the team.  One, however, quietly sought out Declan.  Ashling and Darci were with Doreen, packing up the team’s snacks and refreshments, so I moved in close to hear what the woman was saying.

“ – when I noticed that the operators went to you, rather than your older partner?” she asked, brows up but a nice smile on her face.  She had short brown hair, brown eyes, and was wearing a red sweater and black casual slacks, with an identity lanyard that marked her as part of the corporate sponsor crowd.

“I do a lot of the minor tweaking,” Declan answered with a shrug.

“But I understood from Nathaniel that the targeting program was mainly yours?” she pressed.

“Yeah, to my shame.  It froze at the critical moment,” he said.  “I have a lot to learn.”

“Declan, code mistakes are part and parcel of the job. But clearly your grasp of code is quite stellar.  I’m very impressed.  In fact, here’s my card.  I want you to email me so that I can send you an invite to an upcoming opportunity that you may be interested in.  Oh, and I’m sure you’ll figure out what happened with your program.  I look forward to hearing about it.”

She shook his hand and then moved back over to a larger group of corporate types who were holding a discussion halfway between the two teams.

“Nice of her to single you out,” I said to Declan. “You didn’t mention the broken pin?”

“Because we don’t know if that was actually the problem.  Plus her attention was a little scary.  I’m not used to that.  Don’t tell the others, they’ll think I did something on purpose – but I’m kind of glad we didn’t win.  That’s way too much attention,” he said, looking at the winners and their crowd.

“I think you guys would have won if that pin hadn’t snapped off,” I said.

“Yeah, they don’t normally do that.  The cords usually develop a break or worn spot from bending and twisting, but I’ve never had that pin thing happen.  Oh well, it was a good contest,” he said.  “I better help pack up.”

By now, the rest of the sponsors and contest officials had left Team Castlebury and were back with the winners.  I saw Nathaniel staring at them, then he turned and caught my eyes on him.  Quickly he turned to the bot pit, moving into the fray of packing. He hadn’t done a great job of keeping his resentment and anger off his face.  There was one kid the team could do without.

Chapter 35.

“Immolation is more than a wee bit different than jest burning things Declan,” Ashling explained.  Her tone was instructional, practical, authoritative.  Yet I also heard a little note of uncertainty as she leaned on thick book that lay atop the picnic table behind the restaurant.

“Mom told me about immolating stuff,” he said.

“Aye, she did, but ye never did it under her watch, now did ye?  Oh, how I wish ye had.”

“Then maybe I should just read her own words?” he suggested, nodding at the book she held.

She looked at him for a moment then breathed out.  “I suppose ye should at that.  Fire is not me thing, Declan.”  She took her arms off the book which had a plain unmarked cover of rich dark green.  I’m not much gifted in the world of the supernatural, but even I could feel the power of that book from where I stood six feet behind Declan.

“I’ve seen him burn up logs and stuff,” I volunteered. “The way you say immolation makes it sound different?”

“Throwing fire is scary and very impressive, but ultimately wasteful,” Declan said turning to look at me. “The heat lost by sending the fire across open space is completely wasted.  Immolation on the other hand, starts inside the object.  When you saw me burn up that log years ago, you saw my best attempt at immolating something.  But it wasn’t up to family standards.”

“Aye, the lad is right, Levi.  His mum would have burnt that log in a split second,” Ashling said, snapping her fingers.  “Boom!  Gone like one of Darci’s flashbooms,” she said.

“Flash-bang!” Darci said.  “It’s bang not boom.”

Ashling smiled and waved a hand carelessly.  I think she knew damn well what it was but liked tweaking all our buttons sometimes.

Declan had moved over to touch the book.  The look on his face was half eager, half devastated.  Only fair considering it was his mother’s grimoire, written in her hand, her words.

I shudder to think what that plain green book would be worth in the world of supernaturals.  Ashling’s grimoire would probably be of similar value, more zeros behind the number than I could imagine.

“Levi, ye must never touch me sister’s book,” Ashling cautioned, as Declan opened it to a marked page.  “Darci already knows.  It be protected against any but meself and the baby boy here.  I cannot change the wards she put on it before she left for Boston, and they are lethal.”

“You better lock that thing up or it’ll be hard to explain to the DA if someone breaks in and gets fried,” I said.

“Oh, believe me when I tell you that I keep it well secured… for now.  When I judge this one to be old enough, I’ll pass it to him and he can change the wards,” she said, nodding at Declan who was entirely focused on reading his mother’s words.

“Why can Declan change it if you can’t?” Darci asked.

“Because he is her heir just as he is also mine.  The book recognizes me as an authorized user, but it already knows him as its new owner, if ye see?”

“It’s that sophisticated?” I asked, utterly fascinated.

“Aye.  The more skilled the witch, the more they put into their book of shadows, and the more the book becomes.”

“Magic is very like computer coding,” Declan said, putting a finger on the page to mark his spot before looking up.  “Some of these spells act like software and some are sophisticated enough to almost be a form of AI.”

“That be yer theory, lad.  I don’t know as I fully buy the analogy,” Ashling said.

“You said it yourself, Aunt Ash.  Mom’s grimoire knows both of us but also follows clear lines of authority.  User and Administrator.  Just like a computer program.”

“Oh, I agree with that part lad, I just don’t know if AI is the equal to some of the really old spells or spell books.”

“Wait,” I said, “You think some spells are more complex than artificial intelligence?”

“Says the man who wears a chip of wood round his neck what decides on its own what magic to protect him from,” Ashling shot back with a wry grin. “A bloody chip of wood, Levi.  Imagine pages and pages of spells, bound and written over decades.”

“And then there’s Draco and Robbie,” Darci added.

“No, they be different,” Ashling said.  “But we’ve steered astray as it were.  Immolation is more efficient, and it also hides the witch from eyes what might notice streams of fire.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Darci said.  “I see somebody squirting fire and I’m going to empty my Glock into them.”

“Exactly.  It used to be arrows, spears, and sling stones, now it’s bullets from semi-automatics,” Ashling agreed.  “Do you understand yer mum’s words?”

“I think so,” the boy witch said, looking up at the sky as he processed his mother’s writing.

“So give it a go,” Ashling said, waving at a chunk of firewood on the ground ten feet away.

Declan focused his attention on the wood, body indexed toward the log, right hand on his hip.  I’m still not used to seeing and hearing Marianne perform honest to God magic by written or spoken spellcraft, shifting reality with words.  But Delan and Ashling just think about spells, and shazam – they happen. Unreal.

Now, without a single word, gesture or inscription, the air above the log suddenly shimmered with heat and then after five seconds the whole thing burst into flame. Completely and immediately fully involved with fire over every square inch.  I started to count in my head and at sixteen the fire went out and there was just a pile of ash.

“Holy Hell,” Darci muttered.

“None of that now,” Ashling said, glancing at her partner.  “Ye never know who be listening now do ye?”

“Sorry, I know better,” Darci said.  “It’s just that…” she waved a hand helplessly at the log.

“Yeah, not bad for a first try, but ye got yer practice cut out, lad.”

I walked over and held my hand over the ashes.  “Warm but I don’t think there’s even a coal there.”

“Warm ye say?” Ashling asked, nodding.  “See where ye can improve Dec?”

“Yeah, mom said that recycling the heat takes practice, but it speeds the whole thing up.”

“Yer mum wouldn’t have even produced any smoke.  She’d burn it and reburn it, over and over, but almost all at the once, see?”

“Wow.  Amazing,” Declan said, looking from his aunt to the log, awed by the idea of his mother’s skill and power.

I was awed by his.  I could barely conceive of how fast, powerful and skilled Maeve O’Carroll must have been.

“They really broke the mold when the two of you were born,” Declan said to his aunt.

She smiled, pleased by his respect, but shook her head.  “Actually, yer mum was the mold.  You be the molding, lad.”

“Not without a ton more practice,” he said, clearly not impressed with himself. He headed to the stack of wood near the firepit.  It struck me that he could have moved the wood with a thought, but he was trained to keep magic to a minimum and the habit seemed to be deeply ingrained.

He focused on the new log, and it went up a second faster, burning out in thirteen seconds.

“Better, but more practice,” Ashling said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, frowning as he raced back to the woodpile.

Darci looked at me, her eyes wide.  Yeah, no shit.  The kid could combust somebody on the street and no one would even know he’d done it.  What government or criminal organization on the planet wouldn’t want him in their arsenal.

“Can most, ah, fire witches, do that?” Darci asked.

“Hah, that’s funny,” Ashling said, laughing.  “Oh, yer serious?”

“Ah yeah,” Darci said, frowning, glancing my way to see what she was missing.

“Oh, no dear.  I thought ye might be trying to make me laugh.  The number of witches what could do what our laddie here is doing is very, very small.  And likely none that will do it as fast and smooth as he will as he grows and practices.”

“It’s, ah, mildly impressive,” I said, thinking that Marianne would about wet herself if she saw what he was doing.

“Nah, but let’s see if this is,” Ashling said.  “Declan, this time I want you to burn the log like before but I’m going to tell you to stop the fire at some point before it’s gone.  Ye’ll need to put it out, completely, as fast as ye can.”

“So, I’m going to try and burn it up as fast as I can, but put it out even faster when you yell?”

“Yes lad.  If ye can burn it fast enough I won’t have time to tell you to stop.  Now, before ye begin, what do ye plan to do with the heat?”

“Maybe release it into the air behind the log?”

“Ye think? Let’s try it and see.  Now burn that log,” she commanded.

It lit in three seconds, but she yelled “Out!” at eight seconds after ignition.

The flames faltered, relit and then went fully out in about two seconds, leaving a quarter of a charred log.  A wall of superheated air blasted out, burning the grass behind the log in an arc for ten feet.

“What do ye think about using the air?” she asked.

“Dangerous.  I think I should put it into the ground,” he said.

“Yes, I think ye might be right.  Now again, but faster.”

Ignition at two seconds, she yelled at eight and the fire disappeared in one second flat, leaving just a lump of coal about the size of a baseball.

“Once more and we be done for the night,” she said. “Yer mum would be very, very proud of ye lad.”

The last attempt he put the fire out, but the log was gone, just ash.

“Geez, he’s almost mastered it in one night,” I said.

“Mastered?” Ashling asked with snort.  “No, Levi, just starting.  When he gets that little log mastered at five or six seconds, we’ll add another log, and then another, and another.  There’s lots practice yet to come.  Months and months.”

“Excellent!” Declan said, utterly stoked at the chance to practice fire magic for the foreseeable future.

“And then you can replace all that firewood,” his aunt said with a grin.

“Damn,” he said as he realized he was making work for himself.

“Listen, if I get to watch more practices, I’ll help you cut and stack the wood myself,” I said.

“Deal!” Declan said.

“Deal!  Ye can be the one to yell stop from now on too,” Ashling agreed, smiling at me like she’d one upped me.

“Oh, I don’t know… look the gears are already spinning in his head,” Darci said point at me.

I ignored the women, focusing on Declan.  “What do you know about shooting skeet?”

“Excellent!” he said.

Chapter 36

It took some time to get everything together.  The idea I had watching Declan burn logs behind the restaurant could possibly push his abilities up to the family standard and who knows… maybe beyond.  Which meant I had to do it right.  I dipped back into what I knew about training soldiers and applied it to Declan.  With some internet searching, a few online orders and some work with my chain saw, we were ready.

“It took a seriously long time for this Levi,” he said as we drove to Darci’s house.

“Two weeks?  Two weeks is seriously long?” I asked.

“It felt like two months,” he said.

“How are your times with stationary logs?”

“Two logs in six seconds,” he said with a grin.

“Cool, let’s see if that’s enough for this.”

I parked in Darci’s driveway, and we unloaded the gear.  “Here put this on,” I said, holding the straps to my old army pack so he could slide his arms in.

“Holy crap!  What’s in here?  Rocks?”

“Targets, ammo, stuff like that,” I said, taking a gun case from the back of the Jeep.

“Wait, why the gun?”

“Cover story and training aid,” I said.  “Let’s go.”

The back of Darci’s lot was plenty big enough to shoot skeet and it was safe. Her neighbors were over half a mile to either side and there was nobody behind her for almost two miles.  She had rented a skid steer and pushed up a berm for a back stop when she bought the place.  The neighbors were well conditioned to having a deputy sheriff practicing in her own back yard.

We got out a hundred yards from the house and I took the pack off off him, setting it in the grass.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, nodding at the pile of four- and five-inch round pine sections I had chain sawed from a tree.

“We’re going to work up to those,” I said.  “First, we’re actually going to shoot some skeet.  Get the whole lead the target thing down.  Plus, as I said, it’s cover for when we get to the wood.”

“Okay,” he said, scratching his head.

I broke out some skeet clays from the pack, a portable thrower and a box of skeet shells.  “You’ve shot this Remington a bunch of times, so you know the manual of arms drill with it.  And I know that Darci had you shoot some skeet, so we’ll just knock the rust off.”

We donned earmuffs and shooting glasses and then I shot a few clays that I had him throw.  Then it was his turn and it turned out he was a little out of practice.  But by the fourth throw he was hitting his target.  When he had shot eight or nine in a row, I grabbed a box of the special ones.

“Try this one,” I said, throwing the clay with a little extra power for height and distance.  He missed the first shot, racked the slide and hit with the second.  The clay exploded with a loud bang and a superbright flash of light.

“What was that?” he demanded; eyes huge.

“Exploding clay pigeon.  You can find anything online,” I said with a grin, tossing one by hand twenty feet in front of us.  “Blow that one up – with your mind,” I said.

He lowered the shotgun and stared at the clay pigeon where it sat on the ground.  Three seconds later it exploded with a bang and a respectable starburst of flame.

“Cool,” he said.

“Now I’m going to toss one up with the thrower,” I said.  “Use your power.”

The pigeon floated up in a graceful arc before it descended undisturbed to hit the ground.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I got distracted,” he said sheepishly.  With a wave of one hand, he floated the unbroken pigeon back to me and I threw it a second time, aiming higher so it would have more hang time.

It rose to a peak, then started to drop before exploding.

“Good, again,” I said.

We worked through the rest of the special pigeons, and he gradually got the hang of it.  A few misses at the beginning and then rapidly exploding clays at the end.

“Now some wood,” I said, tossing a four-inch round disc of pine ten feet ahead on the ground in front of us.  He ignited it in a long second and burned it out in two.  I threw the next one underhand, tossing it straight up.  It hit the ground smoking, rolled on its edge for about a foot then fell over and burst into flame with a loud pop.

“Again,” I said.

Pretty much the same thing.  Arc, drop, pop into flames and burn to ash.

“Shit,” he said.  Away from his aunts I let him swear, under the strict agreement that he clean up his act around the women.

“What’s different?”

“It’s moving,” he said in a no duh kind of voice.

“Yes, but so were the clays?”

“It only took a nudge to explode those,” he said.  “I have to get the heat going inside the moving wood.  It’s really hard.”

“So, let’s do what your aunt had you do with the logs… just keep trying to get the immolation as fast as you can.  If it hits the ground so be it, but try to get it quicker and quicker.”

He sighed, and then tried again.  At first it was more of the same, but then the rounds of pine started to burn almost on impact, and they burnt faster, taking less than a second to burn to ash, the rapid burn causing a bigger and bigger pop.  By the time we were out of pine discs he had them igniting just before hitting the ground, with a bang like a firecracker.

“Good.  We’re done for tonight.”

He looked me, clearly disappointed but also completely exhausted.  After a second, he nodded.  Then he looked in the pack.  “There are more regular clays left. I think the old man should shoot them,” he said with a glint in his eye.  I had a feeling what he was up to.  “Make sure no one is around.”

He bent down and touched the ground, holding his hand palm down against the dirt for ten seconds.  “Clear.”

He didn’t bother with the thrower, just levitated the clays, first one at a time, then pairs, and triplets.    To my knowledge, no skeet shooter has ever had to shoot clays that could change direction in mid-flight or even go backwards.  I missed a lot, but we didn’t waste a single clay pigeon as he never let them hit the ground.

“Out of shells,” I said.

“It was hard, right?” he challenged.

“Very.  But fun and extremely good for my overall shooting, and probably good training for your TK skills.  We should get Darci in on this.”

The next day he had a robot club meeting, and the day after I had a local author scheduled for a reading of her new book, but the third day we did just that, having our own deputy join us for pine and clay skeet shooting.  There was a little progress with the wooden targets and then when they were gone he put us through the hoops trying to hit his telekinetically propelled clays.  Darci had the idea of throwing rounds of pine across the ground the same way clay pigeons are thrown in a sporting clays course.  Having the wood discs bounce along on their edges, close to the ground, actually proved to be an aid for him, and his overall ability improved.

The third time both aunts and Marianne joined us.  Declan could now ignite the wood while it was still in the air, and it tended to burst into flaming sparks either as it landed or just before.

Ashling had Marianne practice pulling water from the ground to put out the burning wood wherever it landed. She did it well but seemed a little less than excited by her success.

Later that evening, back at my apartment, she was very quiet as we sat on my couch, watching a comedy.  “What’s up?” I asked. “I thought you did great today, but you seem down?”

“Ashling said I did really well.  She also said there isn’t a whole lot more for me to learn, at least from her.  Water isn’t her thing and I need a water witch if I’m going to get better.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to figure out where this was going but not liking the direction.  “Does she know any?”

“No, or at least none that she would dare to reconnect with,” she said, leaning her forehead against my shoulder. “But she said they tend to be more common on coastlines or islands.”

“And?” I asked.

“And it happens that I’ve been offered a job at a research lab down in the Florida Keys.  When I mentioned it to Ashling, she said it was likely that there are quite a few water witches there.”

“And you are taking the job?” I guessed.

“I don’t know.  I haven’t decided.  The offer just came yesterday.”

“And today showed you that you need more specialized training?” I took a second guess.

“Something like that.  Levi, I don’t know what to do?”

“When do you have to give an answer?”

“Wednesday of next week.”

I squeezed her tight, not saying anything.

“You’re not saying anything?” she said.

“Processing.  My instant reaction is a selfish no, but I recognize that you have a talent that can bring you both danger and opportunity.  Advancing your skill as a water witch can only help your career as a marine biologist while giving you additional protection.”

She made a little snort and put her head back on my shoulder.

“How does Ashling feel about your witch self-defense skills?”

“My skills have improved a great deal from where I started but my power isn’t huge. The plus side is that I’ve learned to conceal what little magic that I do have so that I don’t stick out as an immediate target.  But the negative is that I have to learn to be really expert with what I can throw if I’m going to have a shot at defending myself.  She also said that every witch gets a little boast by living close to their element.”

“When will you leave?”

“Levi, I haven’t decided yet.”

“No, but the only things holding you here are me and the O’Carrolls.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh.  “And all four of you are great.”

“But?” I asked, because I could hear a but in her voice.

“Watching him explode pieces of wood as they fly through the sky shows me how far down the rungs I am.”

“Mari, he’s a freaking super prodigy,” I said.  “From what I understand, almost every witch is going to be below him, and her.”

“Yes, they’re at the top and I’m at the bottom.  It makes me hungry to be better, to be the very best I can be.  He’s exceptional, but he trains like an Olympic skier, always trying to get better.  I feel like I have to do that too.”

I went quiet again, because I completely understood what she was saying, and my own selfish emotions made me sad.  But I only wallowed for a bit.  “You’ll need help moving.  I happen to know a guy,” I said, pointing at myself.

“You don’t have to help me… that’s even if I go at all,” she said.

“I need to know where you are.  To help you get set up.  So I can visit and check up on you.”

“Yeah, what parts of me will you check on?” she asked, with a sly grin.

“Let me show you.”

Chapter 37

“How was Florida?” he asked, throwing a kick and then dancing away.

“Hot and sweaty,” I said, rushing him.

He spun left like a running back in the NFL, fast, throwing a punch at my ribs as he slipped away.

“Nice move.  Where’d you pick that up?” I asked, impressed.

“Watching the football team.  One of the kids in my class, Micah Issacs, is really fast and has some cool moves.”

“Good, glad to see that you’re learning from watching,” I said, turning to follow his motion and using my own momentum to throw a roundhouse kick at his thigh.  “How come you never played?”

“Football?  Are you crazy?  Those guys loath me.  Trey would never let me play.  They’d try to hurt me; I’d have to use magic and then where would I be?”  He blocked my kick with his left arm and tried to grab my leg.

“Good point,” I said, snapping my foot back from his grasp. “What about soccer? Your buddy Jonah is on the team, right?”

“The coach, Mr. Preece, doesn’t like me.  He teaches math and he’s a pretty big jerk unless you’re one of his soccer kids.”  He suddenly rushed me, dropping to one knee in a lunge for my forward leg.  I kicked both legs out behind me in a wide spread stance and pancaked onto his back, working my arms for a guillotine choke on his neck.  He spun his body over, trying to get his legs around me in guard position.  I brushed his legs away and took side control, using my weight and leverage to hold his upper body down.

“My point exactly,” I said. “Join his team and he’ll like you.”

He levered his legs up, trying to get his left leg over my head and around my neck, but I was too high up his body and my own torso was too low, pressing him flat.  My left arm was under his neck, hand grasping my right which was under his left arm and shoulder.  Seconds later I had his left hand tight in a kimora, forcing it against the joint.  He tapped my shoulder and I let him up.

“It’s a chicken and egg thing.  See he taught the advanced math we took last year.  He was immediately nasty to me, and we settled on not liking each other, but he wouldn’t ever let me be on the team.”

“What do you mean?  Settled on not liking each other?”

“Well, he’s really an asshole and he started picking on me in every class.   I didn’t respond, which is what mom and Aunt Ash always said to do with nasty authority figures.  But with him, if you don’t give back some kind of push, he just gets worse.”

“And?”

“And I messed up his whiteboard for every class where he picked on me.”

“Like how?”

“He always had his lessons on the board.  Problems, then answers.  Quizzes, and answers.  I just kept changing the page he was showing.  He’d put a quiz up and the answers would appear while we were doing it.  He’d try to demonstrate a problem, and another would appear in its place.  Stuff like that.”

“So how could he connect it with you?”

“He asked the tech teacher, Mr. Unger come in to fix it in class and Unger saw me and heard Preece pick on me and then took him aside.  Preece stopped picking on me and the board cleared up.  We have something of a truce.”

“Okay, so football and soccer are out.  What other sports?  Lacrosse?”

“Levi, I have too much to do already.  I work at the restaurant a lot, take care of all the firewood and the gardens, train with you and train my craft. I don’t have time to travel with a team and the kids already… don’t trust me.”

I wasn’t fooled.  He’d been about to say the other kids already feared him.

“Okay, no worries.  Just thought a team sport would be good for you, but I get it… it’s a bad fit.”

“We do team stuff in gym class.  I get a taste of it there,” he said. “Plus, robot club is a team sport.”

“Okay, okay, fine.  I just thought physical competition would be good, that’s all.”

“Well, sure, but you always say train as you would fight, right?  Which is why we train in street clothes a lot.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, I won’t likely ever be part of a team.  I’m a loner.  I have to train to fight as a loner,” he said, damn near breaking my heart.

My first impulse was to deny what he said, to point out his friends and what he did have, but I stopped myself.  He was right.  Declan was without a circle and was a high value target for witches, governments, terrorists, and well, almost any organization.  He had to be trained to act, survive, evade, and thrive on his own.

“You never answered my question,” he said.

I knew what he meant.  “It was hot and sweaty, but she got an apartment with a distant view of the ocean and her new job is pretty awesome.”

“And you’re stuck here in the cold, frozen north, with the wrong witches.”

“I like the seasons,” I said.  “Will I miss her?  Sure. But it’s a quick flight down from the Burlington airport and it’s not expensive.   Declan, I like Marianne as a woman, not because she’s a fledgling witch, but I also need more, just as she does.  She needs to be at the ocean. I need to be up here.”

“Because of me?” he said, daring me to deny it.

“Exactly.  She teaches dozens, maybe hundreds of kids.  I have one student that I need to concentrate on.  Your life’s calling is magic, mine is teaching you to survive.”

“Seems like a raw deal,” he said, although his expression was slightly mollified.

“Listen, I grew up in Israel, I know hot weather.  That’s why I like it up here.  Seasons are a wonderful thing.  And as I said, I can fly down anytime.”

“For a booty call?” he asked.

“Wiseass.  Go shower, almost time you went home.”

“Can we take the Cruiser?”

“Yeah, why not.”

When I pulled the patched and rebuilt vehicle into the restaurant parking lot, I pulled around back.  There we switched spots and Declan drove the off-road vehicle haltingly around the field behind Rowan West.  He was a few years away from a learner’s permit, but his aunts agreed with me that driving on private land would be both good experience for his eventual license but also a survival skill if any of dozens of possible emergency scenarios occurred.  He absolutely had to have the ability to drive vehicles, the more kinds the better. The fact that the old Cruiser was manual shift was frosting on the cake as far as I was concerned. Declan would start high school in the fall and the trappings of young adulthood were fast approaching.

After fifteen minutes or so, he pulled back up to the residence parking and shut the car down.

“I’m getting better,” he said, excited by the tough old vehicle.

“Definitely smoother at shifting,” I said.  “Thought we’d have to re-rebuild the transmission after your first attempts.”

“Actually, so did I,” he said with a rueful smile.

We got out and headed into the residence.  The restaurant parking lot was full of cars which meant that Ashling was likely out among the customers and staff.  But the Sheriff’s SUV that Declan parked next to meant Darci was home for the night.

Sure enough aunt number two was ensconced on the couch in sweat pants and a UVM sweatshirt, watching the news.

“I heard that antique road menace grinding around on the back forty, tearing up valuable land,” Darci said.

“Hah, there was no grinding involved,” Declan said, heading for the pot of food on the stove.  “Or almost no grinding.”

“Yeah, he’s getting the hang of it,” I agreed, following the hungry teen as my own stomach was growling.

“It’s chili night,” Darci said absently, her eyes on the news.

We helped ourselves to bowls of chili, sprinkled copious amounts of shredded cheddar over it and headed to the couch area.  “What’s new and awful on the daily depression box?” I asked.

“I’ve been having Deja Poo – the feeling that I’ve heard all this same crap before?” Darci said, nodding at the television.

“That joke stinks,” Declan said with pretend disgust.  “I’m going to get started on my homework.”

He took his chili and his bookbag and went out the door toward his room in the container.

“Tough audience,” Darci said.

“He smirked a little so don’t be fooled,” I told her, taking a bite of chili.

“So – how was Florida?”

“That seems to be the big question tonight,” I said with a glance at the door.

“Hey, Marianne is a great lady.  We’re wondering how you’re doing is all.”

“She is and Florida was good.  Got her moved into a nice apartment close to her job with a view of the ocean.  She’s really excited about the job and about applying her new skills as she starts it.”

“Not going to lie… warm ocean waters sound good after a long Vermont winter.  You probably didn’t want to come back?” she threw out casually.

“Now I’m the one with the Deja poo.  Declan said the same thing,” I said.  “I already explained to him that she has to follow her path and I have to follow mine.”

“And they don’t travel the same direction?”

“Nope.  My place is here,” I said, meeting and holding her eyes.

“Beautiful woman, sunny beaches, bikini sunsets,” she said.

“World changing witch kid, supernatural bonanza, and a college city full of beautiful women.”

“Oh, I see.  We just thought she might be… you know, the one?”

“She’s a great lady, but she’s very much caught up in the same thing I am – witchcraft.  And her use of it is out in the ocean.  My skills are needed here.”

“He’s got four years or so and then who knows where he goes.”

I snorted.  “Four years just to get through high school – and those are extremely important years.  And he’s going to need guidance from all of us for longer than that.”

“Just seems like his life is just getting started and your chances for finding a lasting partner are…”

“Fading?” I asked.

“Well, maybe not fading, but perhaps narrowing.”

“Listen, we didn’t sever our relationship.  I’m going back down in a couple of weeks.  But we both recognize that our life paths have diverged, at least for now.  And I still have few years before I’m fully over the hill.”

“Alright, alright.  I’ll leave off.  We just get concerned – Ash and I.”

“Darci, I’m a big boy.  I know what’s important right now.”

“Okay.  Got it.”

“Thanks for the chili.  I’m going to head back home.”

“Alright, have a good night.”

I stepped outside and headed for Declan’s Cruiser, which was still in my name for the time being.

“Ah, there ya be,” a quiet voice called out.

I turned to find Ashling standing at the front door to the restaurant.

“I snagged some chili and Declan’s in homework zone.”

“How was Florida?” I must have grimaced because she quickly followed up. “I mean did ye find any sign of other witches for Mari?”

“We looked up a bunch of shops and psychics and drove by them.  At least one shop had some zing to it, but it seemed mostly associated with voodoo.”

“Might still be a start.  But she’ll like as to find herself some others.  Might be a bit of a Caribbean feel to them.  I’ll touch base with her.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Levi, it’s a sacrifice ye make, but it’s important – to him and to me. We are grateful.”

“And it’s important to me,” I said.

“As is only right, for the sacrifices ye make.”

“Hmm.  Most powerful witches I’ve ever heard of, more magic books than I can count, and a use for my military skills that is lifesaving rather than life taking.  Seems like a good trade to me.”

“If ye were a homely man with no hope for the ladies ye might feel different.”

“Maybe, but I still have a little charm left in me.  Goodnight Ashling.”

“Oh yer still full o’ blarney so no worries.  Goodnight Levi.”

Chapter 38

“Declan’s become quite the wood chopper,” Darci said one fall night.  Vermont was decorated in glorious shades of red, yellow and orange and the nights were cold even if the days were still warm.

The wood chopper in question was right in the middle of stoking the big woodstove in the residence when Darci made her comment.

“Well, he certainly gets the practice,” I said, watching his aunt Darci.  Her tone held a challenge and knowing her penchant for friendly wagers I could just about feel one coming.

Ashling was pulling a chicken pot pie from the oven, but I still heard her soft snort from the kitchen, which told me my instincts were likely correct.

“In fact, he’s gotten so handy with a mall, I bet he could beat you,” Darci said with a gleam in her eyes.

“Darci he can split house-sized boulders with a thought,” I said, knowing full well that’s not what she meant.

“Oh, of course, if he used magic,” she said, in a no duh kind of voice. “But he doesn’t use magic when he’s been whacking on those big rounds of maple from the blow down last month, do ya kiddo?”

He glanced from her to me, eyebrows up in confusion.  “No, I don’t use magic when I split.  Defeats the purpose of the exercise,” he said.

“Well, he has picked up the skill pretty well, but I’ve got years of practice on him, not to mention some height and weight on him,” I said.  He was actually almost my height but still in the skinny gawkiness of adolescence.  I was pretty sure he would end up taller than me but likely would always be leaner.  But right now, I was still quite a bit bigger and stronger, and would be for some time. He had only just started ninth grade so there were years left for him to grow.

“Oh, I think he has a talent for it.  I think he can beat his teacher,” Darci pressed.

“Well, if he applied magic to me, then I can see how that would happen, but otherwise no,” I stated.  It was time to force her ploy out into the open.

She reached into her shirt and pulled out the wooden necklace she wore that looked a great deal like my own.  “As long as you are wearing your amulet, you would at least know if he was messing with you.”

I glanced at Ashling who was setting the pot pie on the dining room table where we already sat.  She nodded agreement at her partner’s words.  “Aye, the lad could no doubt overpower his own work or even jest shut it down, but ye’d know.”

“So, you’re wagering that he can beat me with just his splitting maul against mine and he can’t split his wood with his power or use magic against me directly?”

“That’s exactly what I’m betting,” Darci said.

“And the terms?” I asked.

“You’ve got that first edition Robert W. Service collection in the shop.  Ballads of a Cheechako.”

“That’s a two-hundred-dollar book, what are you putting up against it?”

“My Brock Blades Street Weasel, which cost three-hundred-dollars.”

“That’s your favorite knife,” Ashling said, frowning.

“Absolutely, and I don’t think there’s a chance in hell of him winning it,” she replied, pulling the very knife in question from her waist and setting it down on the table for all to admire.

“Why do you want the book?” I asked.

“One of the guys in the department is retiring next month.  He loves Service’s works,” she said with an easy smile.

“Wait,” Declan said.  “What do I get out of it?”

“Good on ya lad,” Ashling said.  “Don’t let these use ye fer free.”

“Well, I was going to say you’d have the satisfaction of beating your instructor,” Darci said with a glare at her partner, “but if you’re going to get all mercenary on me, I suppose I could offer you my old Brock titanium Sgian Dubh.”

“Old?  You got that knife just a few years ago?” Declan protested.

“And you would end up losing a knife either way,” I said, frowning.

“Well, I don’t carry it anymore and I don’t plan on losing the Street Weasel.”

“Okay,” he said, “but Levi’s a lot bigger and stronger than me.”

“Do you remember our talk about being out classed in size, strength or numbers?” she asked him.  “All the ways we discussed that you could still win?”

He looked at her, face deadpan, and then slowly nodded.  I watched him to see what I was missing, because she had an angle, but I couldn’t get a read on it.

“As long as I get to pick the logs we’re splitting, then I’ll take the bet,” I said.  The book in my shop was a good one, but I had found it at an estate sale and no one else knew its value.  I had had the opportunity to only pay twenty bucks for it, but my conscious drove me to offer an even hundred.

“Or course.  How many of those maple rounds are left?” Darci asked Declan.

“Six or seven, maybe,” he said.

“Then you can pick the two for the contest,” Darci said to me.  “How about tomorrow after school?  I work tonight and sleep in the morning, so I’ll be up by the time Declan the Wood Mauler gets home.”

“Sounds fine to me,” I said.

Ashling started to hand around plates of food, her expression unimpressed.  “Yer all a bunch of children, which is expected of the boy,” she said, eyeing both her partner and myself, but her tone was mild.

The next afternoon I got over there before school let out, handing Darci her coffee as she came grumbling out of the bedroom.

“Ready to lose a blade?”

“Yes,” she said, sipping the black coffee. “I’m ready to lose the Sgian Dubh.  Declan should have a good knife of his own.”

“Let’s go look over the battlefield,” I suggested.

Outside, behind the barn, six big logs of old maple lay scattered around Declan’s splitting area.  Each was roughly two feet in diameter and about fourteen inches tall.  The early fall storm had blown the old tree over down in the woodlot and we had bucked it into woodstove lengths, ending up with about fifteen of them.  Declan’s little lawn tractor and wagon had hauled them two at a time up to the barn and I had shown him how to peel them like an onion with just a splitting maul.  He had been working on them ever since.

The six remaining rounds looked untouched, lying on their ends or sides just as we had originally dropped them from the wagon.

A couple were pretty knotty, but there were three that seemed fairly similar in size, wood grain and relative lack of knots.  I picked two and rolled them into position about twenty feet apart to reduce flying chips and chunks of wood between the two of us.

“There he is,” Darci said as I stood upright, gesturing with her mug at the yellow school bus that was climbing Macon hill.

Minutes later Declan approached, carrying his book bag, his aunt Ashling walking alongside him.

“Getting right to it, huh?” he asked, maybe a bit reluctantly.

“Yup.  Let’s get it done,” Darci agreed.  With a flourish she reached into the kangaroo pocket of her UVM hoody and pulled out two knives.  She unsheathed each and jammed them into one of the other logs, then turned to me with raised brows.

That was my cue.  I pulled the first edition book from my carry bag and set it atop another log, keeping the bag between the wood and the fragile old book.

“Which is yours and which is his?” Darci asked.

I picked one at random and moved over to it with one of the splitting mauls.  Declan took the other maul and stood near the other log.

“Ashling, you say go.  You’re the judge dear,” Darci said.

“Sure, pull me into yer schemes.  All right,” she said with a sigh.  “On yer mark, go!”

I took a second to watch Declan for signs of cheating.  He choked up on the maul, swung it over his shoulder and brought it down on the very edge of his log.  The maul bit into the log, cracking it enough to tell me that that small piece, which was the size of a regular piece of firewood, would probably break off with one more hit.

My turn.  I pulled up on the maul, aimed for a likely section of grain on the edge and swung.  My blade hit in the middle of the two-foot log, not the edge, doing nothing more than getting stuck.  I touched my amulet, but it was normal temperature.

The thunk of Declan’s second swing was accompanied by a crack and I looked over to see his log was now a bit smaller.

Getting serious I swung again – then again, my blade now bouncing off the dense wood as again I missed my target.  Third swing struck true, but the blade got stuck and I had to yank and heave to get it free.  Next to me another crack sounded as the boy peeled another stove sized chunk from his log.

Seven swings in, I cracked the first segment of my log, taking a twentieth or less off the log.  A glance to my right showed Declan had taken off six or seven segments, his log down to a foot in diameter as he moved around it.

Again, I missed, again the blade got stuck.

“Atta boy,” Darci said.

I was swinging so fast that I was starting to huff and puff.  Damn it, he was cheating somehow but I couldn’t see how.  He was working up his own sweat and his efforts seemed human normal.  My special necklace was inert, but I was missing swings I had never missed before.

“Okay, that be it.  I judge the boy has split his log completely,” Ashling finally said.

“Damn it!” I said, dropping my maul.  “How’d ya do it?” I demanded of the boy.

“The way you taught me,” he said, frowning.  “Moving around the log and splitting off pieces.”

“No, me… how did you whammy me?”

“Oh,” he said, looking slightly guilty.  “I didn’t whammy you. I wrote runes on all the logs last night after you left.”

“I didn’t see anything on them,” I said.

“I used a yellow marker.  It faded right into the wood.  I wrote runes of resistance for anybody who wasn’t me.  That way I didn’t put a spell on you, or use magic to split my wood, I just made all the logs resistant.  Darci would have the exact same problem you had if she tried.  Everyone would except me.  It’s kind of what we talked about the other day. That distracting hand thing. You were distracted and I prepared my battleground ahead of time.”

I had been teaching him that throwing a hand into your opponent’s face is a wonderful distraction during a fast altercation.  People blink and pull back when you go for their eyes. Instinct.

“Darci and I were talking about fighting when outnumbered while we were shooting behind her house.  I told her about that, and she expounded how the same thing works in lots of ways.  You thought I would either use magic directly on you or use it to split the wood, but I just asked the wood to be a bit tougher, to resist, to deflect. So yes I cheated.”

I sighed and turned to a grinning Darci.  Handing her the Robert Service book I looked back at him.  “What do I always say about conflict?”

“If you’re not cheating, you’re losing,” he said.

“Correct,” I said.  “Good job.”

Darci plucked the titanium version of a Scottish Highlander’s traditional Sgian Dubh or Black knife from the log and handed it to him.

“The thing that be ironic, is that she was planning on giving ye that knife all along, laddie,” Ashling said to Declan.

“Oh, so I got conned too?”

“Conned?  No. Educated?  Yes,” Darci said.

He held the beautiful little knife that weighed half what it should looking it over before putting it back in its sheath. “Lesson learned,” he said.

“For both of us,” I agreed.  Ashling snorted.  Darci just grinned as she put her other knife away and tucked the book under one arm.

Chapter 38

“Are ye able to bring it up or not?”

“Yes, just give me a moment,” I said.

“Yeah, don’t be a witch,” Darci said with a short nervous laugh, which told me a great deal about her anxiety level.

Ashling just gave her partner a raised eyebrow and the hardened deputy stuck her tongue out which made the witch laugh.

The screen of my tablet lit up, and we suddenly had a clear view of the interior of a familiar vehicle, as well as sound.

“This is a real beauty,” the man in the passenger seat said.

Our view was from the upper back of the Toyota looking forward.

“Thank you, sir,” Declan said from the driver’s seat.  “It took us years to fully restore.”

“I’ll bet it did. And manual transmission too. I don’t see many young people take their driver’s test on these.”

“My friend Levi insisted that I learn on manual.”

“Good for him,” the examiner said.  “Now, pull out into traffic and proceed down the road.”

Declan carefully looked at his side mirror, then over his left shoulder, turned on his signal light and smoothly let out the clutch.  The Land Cruiser pulled away from the curb and out on to the street.  Declan’s Road test was officially underway.

“Does the lad know about yer camera?”

“Of course.  How would I hide something electronic from him? He actually did much of the installation.”

“Ye’ll be taking it out when the car becomes his?”

“Yup,” I said. “We used it to video our driving sessions so we could go back over them afterward for mistakes and corrections.  It was his idea. Something about your bodycam, Darci, that started it.”

“Turn left at the intersection,” the examiner said.

With a degree of care that I hadn’t seen when I taught him, Declan stopped, signaled and turned.

“Wow, that motor purrs,” the examiner said, head tilted.

“Are they normally so chatty?” Ashling asked.

“No, and that guy is normally kind of an ass.  I’d say it’s a good sign that he likes the Cruiser,” Darci said.

“Perform a three point turn right here,” the examiner said.

Without hesitation, Declan checked all his mirrors, signaled and began the turn process.

“He was a right mess this morning,” Ashling noted.  “He seems fine now.”

“Yeah, he was nervous as hell driving over here,” I said. “But it looks like he’s settled down.”

We were sitting in Darci’s Sheriff’s vehicle, huddled around the screen, each of us apparently more nervous than Declan.

“Take a right at the light,” the examiner said after the turn was completed smoothly.  “Left at the next road after the light.”

We held our breath while Declan complied with each instruction.  “Parallel park behind that green car.”

Ashling took a deep breath.  She hated parallel parking and for her this was the worst part of a road test.

On screen we could see Declan stop the car, turn on his signal, put the car in reverse, then turn back right to look almost into the camera.  He spun the wheel, let out the clutch smoothly and gently guided the vehicle into place.  Then he straightened the wheel and pulled forward a few feet before stopping the car and putting it in neutral.  The examiner opened the passenger door and looked out and down.  Closing the door, he made a note on his clipboard.  “Pull back out into traffic.”

Declan turned on his signal, backed the car a few feet for room, checked all mirrors and over his shoulder and then pulled back out.

The examiner gave him some more turn instructions and suddenly we saw a view of the very street we were on, the same one where he had started.

The cruiser came up behind the police car then passed it.  “Pull over to the curb and shut the car off.”

Declan complied, then let out a short breath.

“Congratulations.  You passed,” the examiner said, handing Declan a slip of paper.  “This, along with your learner’s permit constitute your junior license until you receive the actual license in the mail.  You did well.  Nice car, take good care of it.”

In front of us, even with several cars between us, we could see the green door of the cruiser’s passenger door open, and the short man step out.  He moved up to another waiting vehicle, beginning the process all over again.

Ashling was already climbing out of the SUV, with Darci a step behind her. I kept my eyes on the tablet as I too climbed out. On screen, Declan turned and gave the camera a thumbs up and a huge grin and I felt an enormous wave of unbelievable relief.  He was a licensed driver.  We had done it.  Teaching a young person to drive a car.  It seems like such a little thing but in reality it’s huge.  How many hours will he spend driving in his life?  Did I do a good job?

By the time I had caught up to the others, there was much hugging going on, but after a moment’s pause, I got my own hug.  “I did it, I did it!” he said.

“Of course, you did,” I said, slapping him on the back.  The kid who could lift the car with his mind was damn near out of that same mind with the joy of passing his road test.  Mildly ironic if you ask me.

“We should celebrate… lunch out?” Ashling suggested.

“I have to go back to school,” he protested but it was half-hearted.

“Ye also get to have a lunch.  Pick a spot, we’ll eat and then ye can drive that motorized beast of a car back to school, being exceedingly careful the whole way,” his aunt said.

“Beast.  That’s what Rory calls it,” he said.

“And he’s right.  Now where to eat?”

“Jersey Mike’s.  A giant number 3,” he said, grinning.

I rode with him at his insistence, his nervousness at being able to drive alone obvious.  We all ate at the sub shop and then we drove back to Castlebury from South Burlington where the road tests take place.

“Drop me at the shop,” I said.

“Levi, I have to drive by myself to school,” he stated.

“Yes, that’s the thing about being a licensed driver… you can operate the car by yourself,” I said with a grin.

“It’s just so… ginormous!”

I understood.  Passing his driver’s exam was a right-of-passage, a definitive step into adulthood.  His magical abilities were innate and honed from childhood, but being licensed to drive, being acknowledged by a world that knew nothing of his abilities was a massive landmark of his own competence.  I think the kids now days call it adulting.

“Just remember the limits.  A screw up now can eliminate that piece of paper you worked so hard to get.  Your beast car would have to sit at home.”

“Just Beast, but yeah, I understand.  No joy riding, off roading, street racing, or accidents.”

“Your pals have to wait until six months of experience before you can give them a ride, unless one of us is with you.”

“I know.  I have an aunt that’s a deputy, in case you didn’t know.  She’s made me very aware of my restrictions.”

“Good,” I said as he pulled over to the curb in front of Treasured Words.  “Now go to school, get your parking sticker and get to class,” I said.  He turned to me with a huge grin, holding his hand out for a high five.  When I slapped his palm, he grabbed me with his other hand and gave me a bro hug.  “Thank you, Levi.  Thank you so much!”

I laughed, clapped him on the shoulder and got out.  He carefully pulled away and I went to work.

Two nights later I was at Rowan West, invited for family supper.  The two aunts and I were setting the residence table when I heard the familiar sound of the Land Cruiser’s engine.

The boy that came in was not the happy lad I had seen two days prior.  This one was a dark cloud of anger.

“What happened?” Ashling asked.

“Trey is a massive d-bag,” he said, throwing down his book bag.

“Jealous of your car?” I asked.

His head snapped up, surprised, and he nodded.

“You’re older than he is by a few months,” I said.  “Of course, he’s jealous you got your license first.”

“He was making fun of my old eyesore,” the witch boy said.

“Did I tell you how many offers I had from strangers just after the paint job was done?” I asked him.

“You mentioned a few,” he said.

“Few?  More like a dozen.  For real money too.  Don’t let him get under your skin.  That car is premium.”

“Yeah, I know.  He just gets me so mad.”

“I had more than a few deputies ask about your ride,” Darci said casually.  “If you want to sell it, I’m sure you can get a whole bunch of money.”

I looked at her sideways, wondering what the hell she was doing?”

“Sell Beast?” he asked, eyes wide with disbelief.  “No way, Darci.  We have way, way too much time into him to sell him.”

“Then ignore the blow bag named Trey.”

“I know and I would, but he makes comments about something happening to my car.  Too bad if that box of bolts got smashed up O’Carroll.”

“Oh, is that all lad,” Ashling said, bringing a huge chicken pot pie to the table.  “Ye jest need to protect the Beast is all.  Wards, lad.”

“Really?  We can ward it?” he asked, anger gone and excitement in control.

“Aye, but only under supervision.  Nothing to harm anyone, ye see. Kind of tricky stuff.”

“Yes, ma’am.  When can we do it?”

“We start after we eat if that be okay with you?” she asked, eyebrows up.

There was only one answer he could make.  “Of course.”

“Right then, let’s eat.”

After dinner, we trooped out to the car, and under Ashling’s careful eye, he used a Sharpie to put a set of what she called avoidance wards under the seats, under the frame and in the wheel wells.

“They’ll have a hard time getting near it unless you’re there,” she said.  “And most of the time they won’t even notice Beast as ye call it.”

“Excellent.”

“Ye understand that what we crafted was very sophisticated?  Can’t have other drivers running into it ‘cause they don’t see it,” she said.  “Certainly not moving, but also when parked.  It’s subtle stuff.

“I wouldn’t have thought of that on me own,” he admitted.

“We’ll put some others on it over time, but ye got to think of the consequences before ye do.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Things were quiet for a few months.  Declan was being very careful and very responsible with his car.  Then one night in the spring, he pulled into the parking lot and we saw broken eggshell and yolk on the hood of Beast.

“What happened,” Darci asked.

“We had a fire drill, and while we were outside someone egged my car.  The whole school was out front and away from the parking lot,” he said.  He seemed calm.

“Do you know who?” Ashling asked.

“Colin Sefert.  One of Trey’s cronies.  I did some after school computer work for the office this afternoon and looked at the cameras.”

“And?”

“Colin’s about to have phone issues is all,” he said, getting out the garden hose and spraying the eggshells off.

“We’ll have to scrub a bit to get that yolk and white,” I said.

“Thanks Levi.”

“Make sure the boy has lots of phone issues, lad,” Ashling said, looking at the car.  “Some folk learn slower than others.”

When I asked him about Colin a week later, I found out the other boy was on his fourth phone, his younger sister’s pink starter phone.

“I think the lesson is learned,” he said.  “No one goes near Beast anymore.  And I reactivated the camera so I can see what, if anything, they do.”

“Well done.  Handled like a man,” I said.

He frowned.  “Wouldn’t a man punch him out?”

“You’d have to have evidence, which means admitting to hacking the cameras.  You’ve taught him, and I would guess others, a lesson about your property.  You did it without fighting or causing physical harm to him.  He just learned that if he messes with your property, his property is fair game.”

“Cool.”

“Remember your lessons from Sun Tzu’s Art of War?” I asked.

He thought about that for a moment then nodded.  “To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill,” he quoted from memory.

“Exactly.  Well done.”

Chapter 39

“- so after that opening a bookstore just seemed natural,” I finished.

A hand went up in the back of the room.  Trey Johnson.  Great.  He started to speak before I could even call on him.

“Miss Ketchal, why are we even doing this?  I could swear we did show and tell back in first grade?”

The personal finance teacher looked mortified, immediately turning my way.  “I’m so sorry,” she said, her head snapping back to Trey.  “Perhaps Mr. Johnson, when you’ve spent a decade serving your country’s armed forces, taught teenagers how to survive a battlefield, traveled to over a hundred countries, found, bought and auctioned some of the rarest books on the planet, and started your own business, you might become an interesting person.  Till then you should just listen and learn,” she snapped.  She was young, pretty, and in the last two seconds became my newest hero.  Too bad her left ring finger glittered in the sunlight.  Declan had told me she’s only been at the school for a few years.

“For those of you who are having trouble with memory, having local individuals with diverse backgrounds and careers come talk to us is meant to foster your ability to learn multiple ways of earning a living, to help you think outside of the box,” she added.  “Now any polite questions for Mr. Guildersleeve?”

Another hand shot up.

I called on her instantly before big mouth could say a word.

“Jessica?”

“What was your favorite book to handle so far?” she asked with sincere interest. Her boyfriend gave her a mildly disgusted look.

“Rasputin’s personal journal,” I lied.  It wasn’t that much of a lie, but I couldn’t talk about the thrill I’d had when Declan let me hold his mother’s grimoire on his sixteenth birthday, only after deactivating the death wards of course.

“And you know for certain it was his?” she followed up instantly.

“Yes, I had an expert vet it for me.  Truly a fascinating character,” I said.

Another hand went up, this from one of Trey’s friends.  “Yes, Micah?” Miss Ketchal asked, her tone wary.

“Why books?” he asked, eyes darting toward Trey.

“Are you asking why I collect them and make a business of them?” I clarified.

He shrugged.  “I guess.”

“You guess?” I asked. Some of the class laughed.

He frowned, eyes darting around, but nodded.

“Books connect people across time.  If I write a book, who knows who might someday read it; a year from now, ten years, fifty, three hundred?  And if I read a book from long ago, I’m hearing the words of people who lived entire lives that we can only imagine,” I said.  He was still frowning.  “Think of it this way – when you die someday, will anyone remember you?  Acquaintances might remember you for a few years, friends and family for decades, but beyond that?  Unlikely.  Rasputin died in 1916, over a hundred years ago, but we are still talking about him today.  Will anyone remember anyone in this room a hundred years from now?”

I had a feeling that the lanky boy in the back would be remembered for centuries but that was just my opinion.

“We remember sports figures from that long ago, like Jim Thorpe,” Trey Johnson shot back.

“Exactly – he’s had three or four books written about him, not to mention several movies,” I responded. “But that’s just my opinion, yours obviously varies and that’s fine.”

“I think Micah is just saying books aren’t that interesting,” Trey shot back.

“Sure, if you can’t read,” Declan said lightly.  A few kids laughed.  Trey turned and looked Declan in the eye.

“Interesting only if you can’t do,” Trey said.  “Read about others and dream of doing what they can, isn’t that right O’Carroll?”

“Exactly,” Declan said easily.

Trey frowned. “Yeah, I heard you tell your boyfriends about reading your mommy’s book.  Gathering flowers naked in the moonlight, is it?”

The overhead lights flickered, and the entire class shrank down a bit, all eyes on Declan.  They all knew, I realized.  They absolutely knew what he was, at least on some level, even the idiot who was taunting him.  Trey tried to look tough, but I saw his left hand covering his smart phone on his desk.

Declan spotted his motion, eyes going to the black cased phone.  “Newest iPhone, Trey?” he asked, expression neutral.

“Declan,” Miss Ketchal called out, just a hint of nervousness in her voice.  She knew too.

“Yes, ma’am?” he asked.

“I’m absolutely certain that Mr. Johnson didn’t just make any references to anyone’s personal orientation or insults to your mother, right Trey?” the young teacher asked.  “Both would be breaches of the school’s code of conduct.”

The football captain frowned.  “Trey?” she asked again.

“No ma’am,” he finally answered.

“Again, my apologies, Mr. Guildersleeve,” the teacher said to me.

“Not a problem.  I know that the boys have history going back to the kidnapping, so I understand,” I said.  The whole class looked at me like I was crazy for saying the word kidnapping.

“Sorry, Levi,” Declan said. “You’re right.  Trey and I have some issues with that day, but they don’t belong here.”

Now the class looked shocked that Declan had just apologized.

“No worries.  Anyway, thanks for having me in and letting me talk about my strange path through life,” I said, moving to the side of the room.  Miss Ketchal stepped up and gave them their homework assignment, which was to investigate local mortgage options online for a discussion next class.  The bell rang and the kids all gathered their stuff, heading for the door.

“Thanks for coming in, Mr. Guildersleeve,” Miss Ketchal said.  “Truly a fascinating life you have lived.”

“It’s Levi and thanks for having me.  To be honest, when Declan asked me about speaking, I had the same kind of thought that Trey had.  But I can see that in today’s world of internet commerce and side hustles, these kids won’t likely follow the same kind of career path their parents did.”

“Exactly.  Especially with the cost of college and the burden of student loans.  I consider this class in personal finance to be one of the most important that Castlebury offers.  How many kids will use calculus in their lives, but money is every day,” she said.

“Levi, I’ll see you after school,” Declan called out as he followed his friend Rory out the door.

“You better!  I’m not facing those punks by myself,” I called back.  He laughed and then was swallowed up by the river of kids in the hall.

“Punks?” Miss Ketchal asked.

“I’m teaching a self-defense class to a small group of kids, mostly middle school age.  Declan is my assistant instructor.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Well, if I could teach army recruits, I can teach kids,” I said.  She had just heard my background in the IDF so this shouldn’t be shocking.

“No, not that.  I mean I’m surprised that Declan is helping you.”

“Well, he’s been my student for years now.  He’s really quite advanced.”

“Again, that’s not it.  Declan is just very… aloof, maybe?  Or perhaps, reserved is a better term.  He keeps to just his group of friends and most kids leave him alone. Hearing that he’s going to help teach kids caught me off guard.”

“He’s actually really good with them.  It helps that they’re not his peers.”

“Yeah, the other kids step carefully around him.  I’d heard that he took martial arts, but it seems like even more than that,” she said, her tone curious.

“Yeah?  I suppose the whole abduction thing has followed him through his education.  College will be good for him I think – a chance to start fresh.”

“Maybe, but it seems even more than that.  The whole thing about Trey’s phone and the fact that he’s the school’s go to person for technology, even for the teachers and admin types. Odd for a junior in high school don’t you think?”

“Well, he’s pretty gifted with tech,” I said. Kids were filtering in for the next class and I got busy gathering the few books and props I had brought with me.  “Handles all my website and computer work as well as his aunt’s.”

“She’s an interesting lady too.  My fiancé and I go to her restaurant all the time.”

“Yeah, she’s a strong woman, amazing chef, and doing a great job raising her nephew,” I said, grabbing my briefcase.  “Again, thanks for having me.”

“No, thank you,” she said, looking like she wanted to ask something else, but an incoming kid interrupted her.  The class was filling up, so I gave her a wave and headed into the maelstrom that was Castlebury High School between classes.

It was still busy and loud, but many kids had already found their next classroom, and more were leaving the halls every second.  By the time I found my way back to the main office there were only one or two stragglers in sight.

“All done?” the woman at the front desk asked as I handed in my temporary ID sticker and signed out.

“Yup, and only a few fell asleep while I talked,” I said to her.  Her eyes widened till she realized I was joking and then she smiled.  “I doubt that very much.  I’m sure it was fascinating,” she said.  Her name tag said Ellie and she was old enough to be my mom.

“Levi!” a male voice called from deeper in the admin offices.  I recognized the assistant principal coming my way from several robot club tournaments.

“Hi Elliot, how’s it going today?”

“Oh, you know, living the dream, right Ellie?” he joked as he got closer.  Ellie snorted and moved a few feet away but was still close enough to hear our conversation.

“I heard you were coming in today,” he said.  “Liza Ketchal’s class, right?  How’d it go?”

“Fine,” I said.  “I’m sure it wasn’t the most riveting stuff they’ve ever heard, but most paid attention.”

“Anyone get out of line?” he asked, his tone more curious than concerned.

“No, why?” I asked.  “I already know about a third of the class just from living here and hanging around Rowan West, so we were all old friends.”

“Well sometimes there’s a bit of tension between Declan and a few of the boys, is all,” he said in a sort of knowing way.

“If you mean him and Trey, they seem to have it mostly under control.”

“Most of the time, thank God, but adding you to the mix might have, you know, caused a kerfuffle.”

“Nah.  Trey is Trey.  Miss Ketchal seems to be able to handle him just fine,” I said.

“Well, good.  The lights flickered and well, you know?” he said suggestively.

“Know what?” I asked, brows up.

Ellie snorted and looked first at me and then Elliot.  He glanced at her and then back to me, brows up, expression a little uncertain.

“Well, when the lights flicker, we never know if it’s a power grid thing or… trouble,” he said, suggestively.

“Trouble?” I asked, innocent and confused.

“Like a bit of an exchange or what have you,” he said.

I let my face frown.  “Not sure what you mean.”

He looked at me for a moment more, as did Ellie.  Then his face went blank.  “Yeah, well, glad to hear it went smooth.”

“Sure, have a nice day Elliot,” I said.  “You too Ellie.”

He nodded but she just looked at me for a second, head tilted.  As I turned away, I heard her mutter “We’re not stupid, ya know.”  I don’t think it was meant to be heard.

I left the building and headed to my Jeep.  No, people weren’t stupid.  There were too many clues, too many years of exposure to too many people for some of them not to realize that the Irish woman and her nephew were… different.

They’d stayed in one place too long.  Way too long.  Hiding requires movement and lack of association, staying under the radar.  I had talked about this with Ashling several times, but she was settled here, in Castlebury, and that was that.

I was a little unsettled though. It was one thing for kids to suspect something odd about another kid, as their minds haven’t closed off to new thoughts yet. It was another thing all together for adults to acknowledge that a kid in the school system could do odd things to electricity… with his mind.

A hundred years ago the mobs would have already shown up at the restaurant door with ropes, torches, bundles of sticks and big heavy pressing rocks.  Instead, they showed up for the Friday night special and the Saint Patty’s Day corned beef and cabbage.

Declan made it to Treasured Words before any of the beginner class showed up.  “Good job today, Levi.  I think most of the class liked it,” he said by way of greeting.

“Really?  Not many questions though?”

“Oh, well, not in front of the football players.  But I got a bunch of questions the rest of the day.  Couple of kids were really interested to hear how much more internet traffic makes for you than the physical store.  One kid wondered why you would even keep the physical space at all.”

“What did you tell him?”

“One, you need a place to store books and it might as well serve as a sales point, and two, you needed a home so why not have an apartment over your business.  He thought that was slick.  What are we teaching the heathens tonight?”

“It’s on the white board.  Listen, I couldn’t help but notice that more than a few people suspect that you’re more than you seem?”

“Kind of hard to completely hide that sort of thing when you’ve grown up with the same class of kids for your whole life.”

“It seems dangerous,” I said.

“I think it’s okay. These kids have been going to the restaurant for years.  They see the shop, know my aunt’s reputation for finding lost hikers and stuff so they think she’s psychic.  Not that outlandish when you see the ghost shows on Discovery Channel.  Then there’s the fact that I can fix almost every kind of tech problem. Kids live on their phones, tablets and computers these days and none of them ever have to go a repair business that probably can’t help them anyway.”

“They all got scared when the lights flickered,” I noted.

“But see they calmed down when I mentioned Trey’s phone.  They were worried about their own phones until that moment.  Then I apologized and they realized I would be on best behavior with you in the room.”

“You did all that on purpose?” I asked.

He blinked at my tone, which came out sharper than I intended.

“Yes,” he admitted.  “Mostly everything is fine – they ignore me, I ignore them. The exceptions are when either anyone needs something fixed, or when the bullying starts up.  I repair stuff for friends for free, others pay on a sliding scale, and often not in cash.  Barter is alive and well in high school. Trey and I trade insults, but they almost never amount to anything.  Today he insulted mom.  Not allowed.  Most people know that, so they got worried stuff was going to go down.  Reminding them that you were standing there reassured them.”

“You managed their fear of you?” I asked, more incredulous than upset.

“Trey and his football guys are the dominant physical force in the school – except for me.  Everyone knows that.  It’s fine most of the time but when Trey acts up – because I never start anything – kids get worried that he’ll take it too far.”

“What do they think will happen then?”

“You name it, they think it.  Total electronic shutdown is the biggest thing, but people still whisper about the kidnapper getting electrocuted.”

“You’ve never mentioned any of this.”

“It wasn’t necessary.  It’s just life in high school.”

“Not even remotely,” I said.  “What happens if they get really scared?  What happens if the whole football team ambushes you?”

“Magnus Robbins,” he said, quietly.  “No one has ever forgotten our altercation.”

“Ah, right.  You have a pattern.  Serial killer dies when he kidnaps you, boxer kid gets shocked to hell when he attacks you, lights flicker when you get really pissed.”

“The lights weren’t intentional.  It sort of happened,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“You understand that your cover is pretty much blown for the whole school?”

“Levi, Aunt Ash found the governor’s wife and daughter, not to mention Rory and like six other people who were lost in the wilderness.  She has a witch shop in her restaurant.  I electrocuted a man when I was ten.  I’ve fried the phones of most of the football team at one point or another.  I fix every computer issue in the school. In fact, the principal told me I had saved the school something like twenty thousand dollars in repair bills.  Yeah, people know something is up.  But I only have another year and I’m off to college… somehow.”

There it was.  His focus on escaping Castlebury had overridden his lifelong habits of hiding.

The door opened and the first of the students entered the dojo.  I let the conversation die.

The next day I made sure to visit Rowan West for lunch.  Ashling slid into the seat across from me before I even had my soda order.

“What’s up, Levi?” she asked.

“That obvious?”

“I know ye well.  Plus, I had a feeling when I woke up this morning.”

“Did you know the whole school knows what Declan can do?”

“I think they suspect some of what he can do,” she said.  “He’s been fixing their gadgets for years.  They’d be mighty stupid, now wouldn’t they, if they didn’t think something?”

“And you’re not worried?”

“I’d be lying to ye if I said I don’t get a twinge or two,” she admitted.  “But there are risks worth taking.”

“What’s that mean?” I said, even as a possible answer popped into my head. “You’ve had a vision or prophecy or whatever it is?”

“I’ve had a whole slew,” she said.  “Fer years now.  Haven’t I told ye that me lad is destined for something big?”

“Where do these visions or what have you even come from?”

“Why Levi… they come from the goddess herself.  From Nature itself.”

“What do you know?”

“Jest that he needs to be right here, that change is coming. And Levi… it be coming soon… and it’s going to be monstrous big when it does.”

Chapter 40

“Whoa, you look pretty serious,” I said to Ashling.  She was sitting at my table in the restaurant, clearly expecting me although I hadn’t known I was going until Carl had dropped off the day’s packages.

She met my eyes then held out a hand.  I handed her the manuscript.  Balancing it on the palm of her hand she tilted her head slightly to the left and closed both eyes.

“It’s fake,” she said, opening her eyes.  “Doctored a bit by a person of talent.”

The manuscript was purported to be an unpublished book by the late Edgar Cayce, a famous psychic.

“Damn,” I said with feeling.

“How much did ye lay out fer it?”

“Five hundred,” I said.  I had felt the spark of the supernatural in and around it.

“Well, it’s a good fake at least,” she said.

A waitress, Evelyn, brought me a Citizen Cider Dirty Mayor, exactly the beverage I had been thirsting for.  She also set a Cesar’s salad with shrimp in front of me – also what I had been craving.

“This is pretty specific,” I said, doing a fair job of covering my shock.

“I’ve been doing a bit of scrying.  Jest finished but a short while ago ye see,” she said.

“About my lunch choices?”

“About changes that be coming.  As it was jest a bit ago ye popped into me head as well.”

“So what’s going on?” I asked, sipping my cider.  Ah, just a hint of ginger, perfect.

“There’s quite a lot happening south of here – New York City as it were.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.  Big.  Cosmic big.  Maybe something to do with Hell, but definitely involving the supernatural world.”

“Demons?” I asked around a mouthful of salad.

“Demons, vampires, werewolves, and… other.”

“Whoa.  Really?”

“Really.  There be an emergence of sorts.”

“When?”

“Well, I think it started a year, year and a half ago.  Maybe a bit more.”

“And you’re just getting wind of it now?  That doesn’t strike me as prophetic.”

“Oh, I’ve been aware of things down that way for some time now.  A city that old and that big is bound to have more than its share of supernatural types ye see?”

“So you’re saying something has changed, something that might have consequences for us?”

“Aye, exactly what I’m saying.  Something has been set in motion.”

“A plot?  A conspiracy?”

“No, nothing that planned.  Jest a set of dominos falling over, each slamming into the next in line.”

“And we’re in the path of these dominos?”

“Yes, Levi, we most certainly are.  Especially me boy.”

“So what do we do?  Leave?”

She shook her head.  “We’re right where we’re supposed to be.”

I sat back and looked at her thoughtfully.  “Destiny is here?”

“No, but it be getting close.  What’s yer own intuition telling ye?”

She had been training me a bit over the last year, and now my feelings were sometimes full-on visions.  Short, cryptic, and nowhere near as helpful as hers – as demonstrated by my recent book purchase.  But they were more than I had ever had before, and they were sometimes helpful.  Got a couple on book retrievals that steered me clear of violence.  A few months back I had set a meeting for a book buy in a fishermen’s bar on the tip of Long Island.  Something made me call and cancel it.  A vision of steel flashing and blood spilling.  Watching television in my motel and second guessing myself until I heard sirens.  The motel receptionist told me two men had fought in that very bar and one had knifed the other.  I met the seller for lunch at a better place and closed the deal.  Like I said – useful.

The hours spent learning with her had only impressed me more with her abilities, which were almost unfathomably greater than my own.

“I’ve been feeling a need to prepare,” I said.  “An almost visceral demand to stockpile supplies, cash, weapons, and above all else, to keep training him.”

She nodded slowly.  “His Crafting has reached a level that makes it difficult for me to offer much improvement – he will do that on his own with time.  But what you offer, Levi, is a different way of thinking and acting.  It is vital that you find ways to keep growing his real-world survival skills.”

“His Krav skills are solid and will only improve with time and more experience, kind of like his magic.  But I want to take him out, on a little walkabout so to speak, to broaden his situational awareness, improvision skills and critical thinking.”

“What are ye thinking?”

“Summer break is almost here.  In the Fall he starts senior year and then college.  I want to take a few road trips with him.  Visit environments that he’s not been exposed to.”

She frowned, clearly wary about my plan.  “Where exactly?”

“I was thinking of New York City, but based on what you’ve said, that’s out.  So maybe, Buffalo, Cleveland, perhaps even Boston.”  I knew the last one was iffy, but it was close by.

“Not Boston.  Too many triggers for the lad,” she said.  “How about some other place, like Albany?”

I thought about that.  The capital of New York State was a small city but there were certainly some rough areas and nearby Amsterdam offered even more opportunities for building street smarts.  The Big Apple would be ideal, but I hadn’t been aware of how much supernatural activity was there.  Vampires and werewolves, other witches, those were outside my skill set.  We had talked about the reality of the supernatural species, but Ashling had assured Darci and I that none lived near Castlebury, so they had remained more theoretical then an imminent threat.  Not that the deputy and I hadn’t investigated things like silver bullets and silver coated weapons, but we’d never actually made or procured any.

“Albany would work.  Is there anything there beyond criminals?” I asked.

“Perhaps, but the odds are against ye coming across them,” she said.

“I think that if we can’t go to Boston or New York then I’d like to take him to Montreal.  Expose him to a very small amount of culture shock.”

“Hmm.  I must scry that one a bit. That old world European flavor ye be looking for might also call out to something with teeth or craft,” she said.  “What would yer plan look like?”

“For Montreal, we would visit some rare book collectors I know, move about the city both above ground and below.  Visit some of the cathedrals, some of old Montreal, as well as some of the seedier areas.  In fact, we would stay in cheap hotels and even cheaper restaurants. He needs to learn to blend in, negotiate transactions, navigate city streets, and avoid predators.  As well as travel on public transportation.  We’d take the train across the border, then travel the city on the metro and on buses, as well as taxi, and on foot.  Use only cash or visa gift cards wherever possible.”

“He only knows a few words of French,” she warned.

“Exactly.  Language barriers are awesome for improving mental agility.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, as long as me scrying doesn’t raise red flags.”

The next morning she called.  “Yer a go.  I think there may be a few of the furry types north of the city and there is a potential for ones that suffer from anemia, but I think the risk is low.”

“When do we tell him?”

“Why don’t ye join us for dinner and we’ll broach the subject.”

It took forever for the day to pass but finally I was sitting in the living room, sipping a beer, when the door opened, and Declan came in.  He froze for a second when he saw me, it not being a regular family dinner night as we called them.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Does something have to be up for me to be here?”

“Hah, of course not, but something is definitely up,” he said, following either his own intuition or a logical examination of the clues.

Ashling came in from the restaurant with a tray, Darci coming along behind her with another.

“Dinner from the restaurant?  Now I know something is up,” he said.

“Aye lad, there’ll be no denying it on my part,” Ashling said, as she set her tray on the table.

Darci just grinned and put her own tray down, immediately offloading covered dishes.  “Let’s see, bacon mac and cheese, Korean barbeque steak tips, roasted Brussel sprouts, curried scallops, apple cranberry salad and chocolate mousse for dessert.”

“Now I’m worried,” he said, “What happened?”

Both aunts turned my way.

“In a couple of weeks, when schools out, you and I are going on a trip.”

His book bag fell out of his hand, but his eyes stayed on me.

“What kind of trip?”

“We’re going to spend a week in Montreal, training,” I said.

His head snapped around to look at his aunts, expression disbelieving.  Darci just smiled and nodded, but Ashling gave him a firm look.  “I’ve agreed that you need to expand yer horizons a bit.  It’s a practical trip, learning to move about a city and keeping yer wits about ye.”

“You’re letting me cross the border?”

“Aye, I think ye need to do it,” she said.

He just looked at her for a few seconds before turning back my way.  “What are we going to be doing?”

“Wash up and sit at the table like a human and he’ll tell ye,” Ashling said.

The kitchen faucet ran for mere seconds before he was back at the table, yanking out a chair and falling into it.  He ignored the food completely, turning to me with wide eyes.

“We’re going to travel by public transportation.  Take the train up, uses buses and metro.  You’re going to learn about currency exchanges, travelling under the radar and avoiding attention.  We’ll visit a couple of my book customers which will be an education for you, and we’ll see some of the bigger tourist venues.  We’ll stay in some crappy hotels and eat in low key restaurants.”

“Gray Man stuff?” he asked, nodding his head.

“To a degree.  We travel with our legal passports, but we try to blend in as much as possible.  I suggest you download a French app on your phone and start practicing.  I also want to see a list of what you will bring, then we’ll fine tune it and pack accordingly.  Plus, you have end of year finals to do well on or the whole thing is off, got it?”

He nodded, eyes gleaming and a huge grin on his face.

“Let’s eat,” Darci said, and he finally focused on the food.

“Lad,” Ashling said, which brought his head up.  “You’ll like to have fun on this adventure, but it be serious training and I expect ye to mind yer lessons, your trainer, and keep yer Craft tucked away.”

“Yes, ma’am.  No problem and I think I’m going to do fine on my finals.”

“Right, well eat up,” she said, nodding at his plate.

“Yeah, I’m almost ready for seconds,” I said, a challenging smile on my face.

He blinked, realizing he’d yet to take a bite.  “Just don’t eat all the mac and cheese,” he said, shoveling a bit of the same into his mouth.

As I left for home that night, he was already at work on his travel list, his energy and excitement palpable.  He’d earned this trip, but it wasn’t going to be a complete vacation, not by any means.

Chapter 41

The train ride was easy and relatively quiet, despite the very excited sixteen-year-old sitting next to me.  Customs took a bit of time, especially as he was under eighteen, but I was well prepared.  Notarized letter from Ashling, certified copy of her guardianship papers, certified copy of Maeve O’Carroll’s death certificate, phone numbers, addresses, and Darci’s business card with her law enforcement contact details.  I needed every bit of it, and they called both Ashling and Darci.  Some of our fellow passengers weren’t too happy but that was their problem.  I suspect my use of fluent French helped things at least a little.  Declan answered all their questions, tried to follow along in French when they were speaking it, and was generally fine with the whole thing.

I was initially impressed with his casual aplomb till it occurred to me that he had his magic – he always had his magic.  No police department could hold him, and no border could stop him, not if he was determined.  Somewhere, in the back of that overly controlled and humble teen brain, that information had to be rooted in place, giving him some comfort and confidence.

We finally arrived in Montreal Central Station and headed out on foot.  We each had a small backpack and a messenger bag, both of which had been searched by the Customs people.  We had left out anything that would appear as a weapon other than a tiny Swiss Army knife each.

“Ready?” I asked.  He was looking around excitedly, and I realized, again, that other than the robot competition in Houston, he had never traveled anywhere.

“Yeah, where to first?”

“I thought we’d visit Jean first.  He’s almost always home.  Kind of a character, but one of my oldest contacts in the world of books.”

“Lead the way,” he said.

“Actually, here is the address,” I said, handing him a piece of paper.  “You lead the way.”

He looked at me blankly for a second, before a big grin broke out.  “Right.  Can I use my phone?”

“Use anything on your person or in your immediate environment – this time,” I said.

He took the warning in stride, things like that were part and parcel of our training sessions.

In short order we were walking across the city, following his phone’s instructions.

“Did you get an out of country phone plan,” I asked after the first few seconds.

“Aunt Ash got a temporary one for both of our phones.”

“Of course, she did.  What would you do if she hadn’t?”

“I could probably force the system,” he said, watching me to see how I reacted.

“Could you?” I asked, intrigued.

He paused and looked around.  Across the street an electronics store offered computers and pay-as-you-go burner phones.  He led me across the street and then leaned up against the store window, looking down at his phone.  After ten seconds he looked up with a big grin.  “Yup. Probably several ways to do it, either through the internet or through the phone’s carrier signal.”

“What did you just do?” I asked.

“My phone was already set for international.  But this place has lots of other phones.  I sort of felt around to see if it was possible.  I didn’t actually do anything.”

“But you could?”

“Yeah.  I could push my phone through the CDMA signals, or even my tablet if I had a Wi-Fi signal.”

“What about password protected networks?” I asked.

He laughed then saw I was serious.  “I thought you were joking.  You were joking right?”

“Well, I don’t know what you can and can’t do,” I said, maybe a bit defensively.

“But Levi… passwords?” he asked, incredulous.

“Okay, okay.  Let’s keep moving,” I said, waving a hand in the direction I knew we needed to go.

Fifteen minutes and six blocks later we approached a small three-story apartment building.  From previous visits I knew it contained just six apartments, each half of a floor.  Jean’s was about eighteen hundred square feet, the living space of a small house.

The door was secured with an electronic lock, and a panel inset beside it had a call button for each apartment.  I pushed the one next to 2A and waited.  Ten seconds and no response, so I pushed it again.  Nothing.  We were waiting after my third push when someone came out the front door.  It was a middle-aged man, who looked familiar to me, probably one of the other residents.  He nodded in recognition and held the door for us.

“Merci,” Declan said, earning his own nod from the gentleman, and a grin from me.

“What?” he demanded as we entered the building.

“Trying to use another language is good.  The effort goes a long way with locals.”

We climbed to the second floor and found Jean’s door.  I knocked on it several times but there was no answer.

“Maybe he’s out on errands?” Declan suggested.

“He never leaves,” I said.  “Almost never.  He’s severely agoraphobic. Orders his food and everything he needs online and has it delivered.”

After the third knock and five full minutes I leaned down to the digital door lock and pressed in the personal code Jean had given me.  With a loud whirring sound, the bolt retracted, and I opened the door.

“Jean?” I called out.  No answer.  “Wait here,” I told Declan, before moving into the apartment. He did as instructed, hands in his pockets.  I crept further into the apartment.  “Jean?”

The hall was short, maybe twelve feet, leading to the big open living space and my friend Jean.  He was in his favorite chair, head back eyes closed, an open book in his lap.  He wasn’t breathing.  Carefully I stepped up to him and touched his neck although I knew he was dead as soon as I saw him.  Backing away I went to the door.

“Jean has… passed,” I told Declan.  “I’m not sure if it was natural but I want you to look things over with your Craft and see if you sense anything.  There is an old book in his lap.  Touch nothing.”

His face went from shock to determined faster than I would have thought.  He nodded and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.  Then he opened them and moved past me into the apartment.  Turning his head constantly, he looked at just about everything.  When he got to Jean he sucked in a sharp breath and turned to me.  “Magic residue.  On him and on the book.  It’s fading.”

“What was it?” I asked, pulling out my phone.

“Not sure.  Nasty.  Hmm, if I had to guess it was a ward, single use, defensive and obviously lethal.  Umm, I think it stopped his heart.  It’s almost gone.”

“Is it safe for us to be in here or to touch it?”

“Yeah, it was a one-time thing.”

I dialed 911 and waited.  When the operator answered in French I spoke rapidly, giving my name, the address and the situation.  She told me to stay on the line and wait for the police.

“We’ll have to open the front door for them,” I said to Declan in English.  The operator heard me and told me she would convey that to the responding officers.

A police SUV pulled up out front in slightly less than four minutes.  We greeted them at the door, two female officers, both blonde, one tall and the other short.

In rapid French they demanded identification.  “They want our passports,” I told Declan, but he was already pulling his out.

Both women looked suspicious at me translating and then at the US emblem on the cover of our passports.

“What happened?” the taller one asked in English.  Her name tag said E. Arsenault and her tone was tough, as she waved us to lead the way, carefully keeping us in front.

“Jean Lavoie is… was a friend and business colleague of mine,” I said, heading toward the stairs.  “Several times a year I visit Jean to discuss mutual business.  This time I brought Declan with me.  He didn’t answer the intercom.  A building resident let us in, and I have a code to his lock.  He is in his favorite chair.”

“What kind of business?” the tall officer asked.

“Rare books.”

We were now in the stairwell.  The second officer had been glancing from our passports to us.

“How are the two of you related to each other?” she asked, her accent heavier than her partner’s.  She waved the hand holding the identification between the two of us, her right hand staying near her holstered Glock.

“I am a longtime friend of Declan and his family. He finished his junior year of high school in time to accompany me and as he’s never been to Canada it seemed like a good time to do so.”

“You have any paperwork to support any of that?” Officer Arsenault asked.

We reached Jean’s open door and I reached into my messenger bag to pull out the documents.  Both officers waited, eyes hard, hands near their belts.  I handed the packet to Officer Arsenault, and she looked through the packet.  After a second or two she grunted and glanced at her partner – M. Bergeron by her tag.  Officer Bergeron stepped into the apartment while we stayed outside.  Arsenault watched both of us until her partner called her inside.

“Don’t move,” she warned, then disappeared inside.

A few minutes later she came back out.  “What did you touch?”

“Doorknob and his neck to check for pulse.”

She eyed me for a moment as her partner came down the hall, talking into her shoulder mounted microphone in rapid fire French.

Officer Arsenault looked from me to Declan and back.  “We will need your statements, so you’ll need to come down to the station.  The coroner is coming to pick up the body.  Do you know who his next of kin was?”

“He has a niece in Ottawa.  Cindy Lavoie.  Phone number should be in the book he keeps by the phone.”

“What is the book in his lap?” Officer Bergeron asked.

“I don’t know – I didn’t touch it.  I looks old, but that’s all I can say.”

“Valuable?”

“Possibly,” I admitted.

“Come look at it for me,” she said.  I followed her into the living room and heard Arsenault speaking to Declan but was unable to hear what she said.

“Here, what is it?” Bergeron asked.

I pulled white cotton gloves from my bag.  “You always carry those?” she asked.

“I’m a professional book collector, so yes.”

The book had no title, and the words were in a language I couldn’t read much of.  But I knew someone who could.

“It’s in Gaelic.  I need Declan to translate,” I said.

“The boy?” she asked incredulous.

“He’s family was born in Ireland, and he is fluent.”

“Emilie,” she called out.  “Bring the boy here.”

The two came in, Declan looking confused, the other cop raising an eyebrow.

“Can you read this book?” Bergeron asked.

He glanced at me and then at the book in my hands.  “Oh.  Yes.  It’s in Irish,” he said.  “The memoirs of Sean Flarherty.  It’s really old, isn’t it?” he asked me.  The cops couldn’t see his face, so they didn’t notice his brows going skyhigh.  He was trying to tell me something.

“I think so, yes. Why?”

“Well, it just reads really grim, like the old medieval times or something,” he said.

It was a grimoire.

“So, it’s an old personal journal from at least a couple hundred years ago,” I told the two cops.  “Some value in its age, but more of a collector’s piece than anything mainstream valuable.”

“What are we talking about?” Bergeron asked.

“Three, maybe three hundred and fifty.  There are other books on his shelves that are more valuable.” I said with a wave.

“Well put it on a shelf somewhere safe,” Officer Arsenault said.

Their radios spoke loudly in French, someone named Francis telling them he had arrived.

“We can go to the station now, where is your car?” Bergeron asked.

“We came up by train, and traveled by foot,” I said.

Ten minutes later they were seating us at two different desks some distance apart, me with Arsenault, and Declan with Bergeron.

For the next twenty minutes she conducted a very complete interrogation of my morning and early afternoon.  Declan was getting the same treatment, but he seemed to be handling it well.  Officer Bergeron was looking a little tense, though.

Finally, we were done, and they released us.  It was late afternoon, and we caught an early dinner, visited Montreal’s underground shopping area, then found a hotel, technically a better quality one than I’d intended.  I gave the receptionist my credit card, but Declan paid for the room with Canadian currency.

“Where’d you get that?”

“We have Canadian diners all the time.  Sometimes they run out of dollars and ask if they can pay with Loonies.  Aunt Ash usually says yes.  She keeps a big bundle of it in her safe… in case we have to bug out to Canada.”

“Ahhh,” I said, nodding.  “Perfect thinking. Say why was your cop looking so crabby at the end of your statement?”

“She was interrogating me, real old school stuff.  I told her my aunt was in law enforcement early on so it shouldn’t have been a big surprise that I didn’t fall for any of her tricks.  Just yes, no, maybe, I don’t know.  Of course, I had to give her details about our trip but I didn’t offer anything at all.  It was fun. So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow we visit my friend, Paul Gram.  He’s another collector,” I said, holding up my hand to forestall the question I saw on his face.  “He’s alive and well. I texted him at dinner.”

“Cool.  What do we do about the grimoire?”

“Nothing,” I said.  “Is it dangerous?”

“The hex is gone, and it looked pretty bland to me, so probably not.”

“So, we leave it for his niece.  She will likely contact me to sell anything in his collection anyway.”

“Okay, well, then I’m tired.  Time to hit the sack,” he said.

“Yeah, nothing like travel and police stations to tire you out.”

“Levi – sorry about your friend.”

“Yeah, thanks.  Sucks, but at least he died doing what he loved, reading old books.”

Chapter 42

We ate breakfast at a small Old Port café the next morning – crepes – savory for me, diabetes sweet for the kid witch.  Then, because we had time to kill, we visited the Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal.

I love to visit cathedrals and other religious buildings and locations when I travel.  I might not be Catholic, but I appreciate a truly awe-inspiring structure when I see one.  My goal for this trip was to broaden Declan’s worldview a bit and shock his Americanism with some foreign culture.  He ate it up like his chocolate crepes.  Hungry for travel his whole life, this taste of different was clearly an appetizer for his future life, whatever that might hold.

Although I’m Jewish, I like to light candles in cathedrals for some of my loved ones.  I lit one for my father and two for lost army buddies.  Declan, surprisingly, lit a pair himself.  I asked him about it as we left the church.

“One for my mom and one for my grandmother,” he said.

“But they were both witches, right?”

“Yes, but Levi, remembering deceased family and ancestors is universal.  Almost all religions do it.  And what a place to be remembered in, right?”

“Right,” I agreed.  “Now, here is Paul’s address.  No cell phone today.”

“Ha!  I bought a map,” he said, unfolding a large tourist map of Montreal. “He lives on this road, near the University of Montreal,” he said pointing to a spot on the map.  “And we’re here.  Hmm, pretty far to walk.”

He suddenly flipped the map over and found the subway map.  After a moment he looked up at me.  “The red line has a station right down that way,” he pointed down the street.  “It goes right near the University.”

“Absolutely.  Mass transit is generally thick around centers of education.  Good job, but tomorrow you can’t use the map either,” I said.

His head snapped around to stare at me, horrified.  “Why not?”

“Because between today and tomorrow you are going to lose it,” I said, with a confident smile.  “So, you need to memorize as much of it as you can.”

“That’s hard because these names are all in French and they don’t make much sense to me.”

“Yeah, it’s tough,” I agreed.

He looked worried, glancing at the map as we walked toward the station.  After a few minutes he suddenly stiffened as if struck by a moment of inspiration.  Then he smiled and put the map away in his crafting bag.

“What?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” he replied, trying to contain a smirk.

“What witchery did you just think of?”

“Oh, nothing big… just some old lessons mom gave me as a child,” he said, a trifle smug.

“Okay, shifty as hell,” I said.  “Now, to change topics, Paul Gram is a bit… different.”

“Like how?”

“Hard to describe.  He’s a very persistent person and when he decides he wants something, he can be… morally ambivalent.”

“He’s a crook?” Declan asked.

“Not by profession, but he will break rules and laws when he sees fit. And he uses shocking language and offensive behavior at times to throw people off balance.”

“And you’re warning me about this because…?”

“Because he is attracted to both men and women, equally, and can be overly forward in his advances.”

“You think he might come on to me?”

“It’s hard to predict his type, but he is attracted to unusual.  You, my young friend, are unusual.”

“No, I’m just a regular kid, an underage one at that.”

“To most people, yes.  Paul has a touch of something, a kind of sensitivity.  I’m thinking he may pick up on your vibe.  Just preparing you in case he does.”

“Because I might fry him?”

“Yeah.  A person who doesn’t take no for an answer and is ambivalent about things like age of consent, might just trip some of your personal triggers.  I know he’s come close with me a few times.”

“He came on to you?”

“No, just things he’s done around others when I’ve been present.”

“Why do you do business with him?”

“Believe me, I question that all the time.  But he is thoroughly plugged into the world of rare books.  He’s a recognized expert in the field and his opinions carry weight.  However, I reevaluate our business relationship on a regular basis. Which is what this visit is about.”

“So, you’re taking me to meet a borderline pedophile who may abuse people, might possibly make advances on me against my will, and who you’re not even sure you want to keep doing business with?”

“Exactly,” I said, earning myself an incredulous look.  “The world is gray, Declan, gray and foggy. You carry your power better than you have a right to.  You don’t abuse it, don’t knee jerk, don’t hold it over others’ heads.  I would hope I would have half your restraint and discipline, but I doubt it.  However, you my young friend, have led a sheltered life – by necessity.  This whole trip is about pushing you out of your comfort zone, shocking your sense of worldview, and broadening your horizons.”

“Oh, it’s like the stress test that Darci had to do,” he said.  “Okay.  I’ll behave.”

“You don’t have to behave. If he offends you, insults you, or refuses to respect your boundaries, you don’t have to take it.  You can tell him off, rebuke him, and disagree on any topic he pushes you on.”

“But don’t freak out and zap him with magic,” he said.

“Yeah, that,” I agreed.  “He might say something shocking, confess to some action that you find abhorrent.  You can’t lash out, because you don’t know if it’s the truth,” I said

“Levi, I often do know if someone speaks truth or not,” he said.  “What do I do then?”

“Let me handle it.”

“Okay.”

After navigating the subway, we arrive up on the surface, on Cote Ste Catherine.  He looked at his map, a couple people walking by us, giving us the side-eye.

“This why you don’t want me to use a map?  To glaringly obvious?” he asked without looking up, clearly sensitive to the looks we were getting.

“Maps are awesome, and you should always use one.  But they can disappear too.  But to answer your question, what you are doing now is akin to pulling a wad of bills out of your pocket and counting it in public.”

“Demonstrating that I’m out of my element and therefore a potential target.”

“Exactly.  Plot in private, memorize, then execute.  Keep the map folded to show only your area of immediate operations for fast reference.”

He refolded the map down smaller, then tucked it in his bag.  “Okay.  Got it.  This way,” he said, leading us down the street toward the University. We walked for a while without speaking, Declan observing our surroundings while I did the same plus watched him.  Tall for his age, and dressed in casual, neutral colored clothing without hardly any labels, nobody paid us much mind.

A few blocks down, he turned on a side street, traveled a block and then turned on another street before stopping in front of an unassuming apartment building.

“Good work,” I said.  This time when I pressed the intercom, I got a response.

“Paul, it’s Levi,” I said.

The door lock buzzed, and we headed inside.

“He’s afraid of fire, so he lives on the ground floor,” I said, walking to Apartment 1E.

The door opened at my knock and a tall pleasant looking man with fine, blond hair greeted me with a smile.

“Levi, great to see you,” Paul said in English.

“Hey Paul, how’ve you been?”

“Bored to tell you the truth,” he said, looking over my shoulder at Declan.  “Ah, you have a young assistant, or did you take an underage lover?”

“Neither. He’s a friend.  I have a collaboration with his aunt,” I said.

“But he’s so… fresh,” Paul said as he backed away from the door and let us in, his eyes on Declan.

“No really and you’re being aggressive even for you,” I said.

“Well, Levi, since you’re here to evaluate whether you will deign to continue our association, I figure young, not-fresh Declan was here as bait,” he said, leading us to his living room.  The apartment was standard in size and layout for the area, but not in furnishing.  Paul had bookshelves in almost every open section of the floorplan, to the point where he had just two armchairs with no couch, loveseat or even a third chair.  He took one and waved me toward the other.  Declan glanced around, then grabbed a chair from the kitchen table.

“He’s pretty forward himself,” Paul said, “and he still looks fresh.  What do you say, Declan?  Are you fresh?”

“I don’t have any idea of what that means, Mr. Gram, but Levi warned me you prefer people off balance,” Declan said.  “When I was a kid, I met a serial killer.  Now he was good at the off-balance thing.”

“Implying that I’m not?” Paul said, acting affronted.

“I’m not implying anything.  I’m saying it,” Declan replied with a bland smile.

Paul looked at me with an expression of surprise.  “Where did you find this one?”

“Like I said, business.  Speaking of which… how’s it going?”

We talked books, auctions, rumors and sales for the better part of an hour and a half.  He focused on business, occasionally glancing at Declan but stayed on track.  Finally, when we were done and ready to go, he turned to my young friend.

“You never said what happened to the serial killer?”

“Oh, he didn’t survive the encounter.  I did, though,” he said with casual grin.  Then he stepped out the door.

“Shit Levi, you really know how to pick them,” Paul said, shaking his head.

When we got outside, Declan turned to me.  “Wow, you really know how to pick them, Levi.”

I guess I do.

Chapter 43

“Where to today?” he asked, immediately shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“Back to Jean’s apartment,” I said, taking a sip of coffee and enjoying the confusion on his face.

He gulped down his food.  “Ah… why?”

“His niece, Cindy, called me while you were in the shower.  She’s coming here today to handle his burial details and start the estate process. She’s his estate representative and pretty much sole heir.”

“Oh.  The books.”

“Exactly.  Jean was comfortable, financially, but much of his estate is on the shelves in that apartment, and in his fire safe.”

“Lemme guess – no map today,” he said.

“Correct.  You lost it last night in, oh I don’t know, a crazy thunderstorm,” I said.

“Not smart enough to keep my map dry, huh?” he asked, reaching into his messenger bag and retrieving the map in question.

“Apparently, you were distracted by a really hot waitress at dinner and forgot to store it properly,” I said as I took the map and put it in my own bag.  His face went a little red at my comment.

“You have to admit she was extremely pretty,” he said.

“And highly amused by your attempts at French,” I said.  “Plus, she was about ten years older than you.”

“Which is why she flirted with you the whole time,” he said.

“Oh, she toyed with you plenty.”

“True.  Okay, so my hormone addled brain failed basic preparations.  Okay, I got this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, this one is easy.  There’s a subway station right over there.  Big directory board with all the train lines.  We just take the ones we need back to the same station we got off at the first day.”

“True,” I said, disappointed, not because he was right, but because I wanted to see what else he had up his sleeve. In his case, it wasn’t an ace, but real magic.

We almost missed switching a train line, but he caught the mistake at the last moment, and we made it to Jean’s apartment by ten o’clock.

Cindy was a trim fortyish woman who looked like a runner.  Her curly light brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail and she wore jeans and a sweater. Her hazel eyes were red and puffy, as she let us into the building.

“Levi, thank you sooo much,” she said, giving me a quick hug.

“I’m sorry, Cindy.  Jean was one of my oldest book collector friends.”

“Thank you.  He was an odd duck, pretty much his whole life, according to my mom.  But he was my last family.  My kids only have living relatives on my husband’s side.”

“If it’s any consolation he was very proud of you.  Full time mom, full time professor.”

“Aww, thank you.  Who’s this?”

“Hi, I’m Declan, and Levi is my odd uncle, but it’s by choice instead of blood.”

She laughed.  “Oh my, there’s got to be a story there.”

“More than one,” I admitted.  “Declan’s aunt provides me with some expert appraisal skills.  It went downhill from there.”

“Hah, he can’t stay away.  Of course, that might be because of my aunt’s restaurant food, but he may actually like us too.”

She questioned him about our connection in a light manner as we headed up to the apartment.

When we got inside her momentary bright mood faded and she looked really sad.

“So, have you found his will and final instructions yet?” I asked right away, hoping to distract her grief.

“Oh, I know where it is, I just can’t get to it,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“His safe?” I guessed.

She nodded.  “I’m supposed to have his combination, but I couldn’t find it at home, and I can’t find it here.”

She led us into his bedroom, which had two good sized closets, one of which was filled up with a good-sized fireproof gun safe.  Electronic lock.  I glanced at Declan, and he smirked a tiny bit, wiping his expression clear as Cindy turned to us, palms up helpless.

“You tried the usual suspects?  His birthday, yours, your mom’s, parent’s anniversary.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “Along with his college graduation date, as well as the birthdates of some of his favorite authors.”

“Well, did you look in his bedside table?” I asked, pointing.  She frowned at me, because it was kind of a dumb idea, but I needed to give the kid a moment near the safe.  When she turned and looked at the bedstand, I glanced at Declan, but he was already putting his left palm over the electronic keypad.  By the time she turned around he was looking in his bag for something.

“Well, why not?” she said, moving over to the bed.  Declan pulled out a piece of paper and a mechanical pencil.  He wrote something down and handed it to me while her back was turned.

Six numbers ending in sixty-five.

“What authors did you try?” I asked, looking at the number, a suspicion forming in the back of my mind.

“Hemmingway, Edgar Allen Poe, Charles Dickens.”

“How about Rowling?” I asked, pulling out my phone and punching in the full name.

“Who?”

“Jean had a dirty secret,” I said, looking up from the Wikipedia article that confirmed my guess.

She frowned, worriedly, eyes darting to Declan then back to me.  Her mouth started to open but I beat her to the punch.  “He really, really liked the Harry Potter novels,” I said.  “Admitted it to me over too much wine one night.  Maybe we should try J.K. Rowling’s birthdate.”

I moved to the safe and punched in the numbers that Declan had given me that matched the author’s birthday.  The lock beeped and whirred, and the handle moved as soon as I tried it.

The heavy steel door swung open, revealing a shelving system inside that held books and documents.  Cindy leaned in and I stepped away to give her room.  Declan moved up just behind my left side, head swiveling as he scanned the contents hurriedly before Cindy touched anything.  He breathed out a sigh and stepped back just as she grabbed a brown document envelope.

“Here, this is it,” she said, clearly relieved, turning to me with a smile.  “You know he gave my kids a set of signed Harry Potter books and it never occurred to me that he liked the stories too.”

“You should find a second set on his shelves in the living room.  I helped him track down all those autographed copies.  He liked magic, or at least the idea of magic,” I said.

“My mother told me he was like that as a kid too.”

“I don’t know what happened to make him afraid of the outside world, but I think the idea of magic was like a panacea for his fears,” I said.

“He was in a car accident right after he got his license and some of the kids with him were killed,” she said.  “I mean it would be nice to have magic and have all your problems go away, wouldn’t it?”

“Do you think so?” Declan asked suddenly.  “That magic would solve life’s problems?”

She looked at him, surprised.  “Well, probably not.  Likely have its own set of problems of some kind.”

“Cost of magic, desire by others to possess your power, slippery slope to corruption – you know – absolute power corrupts absolutely and all that,” he said.

“Sounds like you’ve thought a lot about it?” she asked him.

“Working on my college essay ideas and this one occurred to me.  Not going to use it but it was a good thought exercise,” he said.

“What was your angle?” she asked, interested.

“My aunt has a New Age shop in her restaurant.  We get all kinds of folks, many dreaming of power. I thought I would write along the lines of if I had magic here’s what I could do, then discuss the consequences, and then the ordinary way of doing the same thing.  But I couldn’t bring it full circle to college, at least not yet.”

“Hmm, how old are you?”

“Sixteen.  I start senior year in the fall.”

“Well good for you to start the project now.  Don’t give up on your idea just yet.  It’s a unique hook,” she said, smiling at him before pulling a clump of papers out of the folder.

“Thanks, I’ll keep plugging away at it,” he said, giving me a so there look. I raised my brows at him.  His aunt always called him cheeky – I might have to agree.

“Jean always kept an inventory of his books on his laptop.  I’m hoping you have his passwords?” I asked.

She looked at me, then peeked into the folder, reaching in and grabbing a little notebook.  “I do now.”

We got into his computer and verified his book inventory, which had estimates of value on them.

“That’s super handy,” Cindy said.

“He’s pretty close on most of these too,” I said.

“Levi, I haven’t even been appointed by the court yet, but when I do, will you help me sell these?” she asked.

“Absolutely.  I probably sourced twenty percent of them for him at one point or another.  Just let me know when you’re ready.  But if I could have a copy of that list, I could start tracking prices and working on potential buyers.”

“Absolutely,” she said.

We left a couple hours later, heading to a pizza place near the university for a late lunch.

“Pretty ballsy with the whole essay thing, don’t you think?”  I asked him.

“I was telling the truth.  I actually have a draft on my laptop at home,” he said.  “It’s actually a redo of an essay that I wrote for sophomore English class.  It was Aunt Ash’s idea.  I just added the shop angle to tie it to my life in a believable way.”

“Hiding in plain sight, huh?” I said, shaking my head.

“Yeah. It works.”

“Listen, would you be upset if we headed back after lunch?  With Jean’s death and the need to liquidate his collection, I need to get started on this.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said.  “To be honest, I’m missing sleepy Castlebury, Vermont.  Probably be bored in a few months, but the language thing makes me a bit uncomfortable.”

“Especially when cute waitresses pick on you right?” I joked.

“Yeah, there is that.”

“So how you going to find our way to the train station?”

He smiled.  “Ley lines.”

“Really?”

“Really.  I can feel them.  Most witches can, but especially Earth witches.  So while we were travelling around yesterday and today I’ve been feeling them out, kind of like landmarks to navigate around.”

We finished lunch, put on our packs and he led us to the train station with very little hesitation. The afternoon train was leaving in forty minutes, so we bought tickets and kicked back in the station.

“Levi, this was a really cool trip.  Thank you for bringing me,” he said, abruptly.

“Of course.  I just wish it hadn’t come with a death and police interrogations.”

“Nah, that just added to it. You’re the one who lost a friend, and the police thing was good practice.  Plus think of the stories I can tell the gang,” he said.

There was that.

Chapter 44

Summer slipped by and fall arrived, bringing Senior year along with it.  Ashling invited me over for dinner on the first day of school. I agreed with one minor change in the plans.

After school, Declan came in, took one look at the three of us and the cake his aunt had baked and rolled his eyes.  “Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s not like the first day of kindergarten, for goddess’s sake.”

“It kind of is,” Darci said.  “First day of the last year of regular public school.  The circle is complete.”

He eyed her for a moment before looking at Ashling.  “What kind of cake?”

“German chocolate,” his aunt said.

“It was just another day of wonder at Castlebury High, but I’ll take German chocolate any day of the week,” he said dropping his bookbag.

“Levi picked up your favorite curry from that Indian place in Burlington,” Ashling said, nodding toward the brown bag of takeout on the counter.

“Really?” he asked, lighting up.  “Okay, maybe I can get on board with this precious first day BS after all.”

“Methinks he doth protest too much,” Darci said.

“Shakespeare?” he asked.

“Much paraphrased,” I agreed.

We had a nice dinner and he told us about seeing his classmates after the long summer, about his initial thoughts on classes and he admitted how odd he felt at the realization that high school was almost over.  The cake was great.

We rapidly settled into the school schedule, adjusting our training schedule amid homework assignments and robot club meetings.  Our younger class of Krav trainees was going well and Declan was learning much by teaching.  In fact, he was doing so well that I left the class in his hands when I had to take a quick jaunt to Germany for an auction.  We were two weeks into the school year, and I was gone for just three days.  It was on the flight back that I had a vision.  As I’ve said, my abilities are not very strong, but this image was powerful.  It was a late flight back to the States and I took the opportunity to catch some sleep.  My time in the military left me with the ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime.   After drifting into an uneasy doze, I found myself in the middle of a vivid vision – pouring rain, thunder and lightning, combat clad men with guns, Declan, and a girl.  They were fighting the soldiers, but danger was coming – fast.  Then I woke up, breathing hard enough that the woman in the seat next to me was leaning as far from me as she could get.

“Sorry,” I said. “Nightmare.”  She nodded but didn’t say a thing.  I checked the time and found we were about an hour from landing.  Pulling out my little notepad I jotted down everything I could remember about the vision, just as Ashling had taught me.  Men, guns, thunderstorm, and a girl.  Cute girl but dangerous.

My visions are always of the future, so I was reasonably sure nothing had happened yet.  A glance past my seatmate out the window showed a clear night sky.  Okay, not tonight.  I spent the rest of the flight going over the vision, but the images were already fading like a dream. I did remember a glimpse of a giant, a man I instinctively knew was an accomplished killer.  Declan, what the hell was headed your way?  How could the time be here so soon?

The pilot came on and told us we would be landing shortly so I packed up my notebook, handed my empty plastic coffee cup to the attendant, and, of course, returned my tray to its upright position.

The plane landed and as I had just a carryon, I headed right home.  It was late, the O’Carrolls would be fast asleep, so I followed suit.

The next afternoon, we had a Krav class to teach, but I had a hard time concentrating on it, my worry for Declan almost overwhelming.  Finally, I turned the class over to him for weapons drills and pretended to catch up on paperwork.  Class ended and the kids left.  I grabbed batons and both of our sets of protective gear.

Then I pressed that boy hard.  All my work, all his aunts’ work, it was coming to a head.  Was he ready?  How could he be?  Seven years was too short.

“What’s up?” he asked when we broke off our match.

“What do you mean?” I asked back, stalling for time while I took off my gear.

“You were edgy all through the class. Even the kids picked up on it.  And your sparring seemed extra aggressive.  What’s going on?”

I didn’t answer right away – couldn’t answer.  How do you tell the kid you’ve trained that the sharp end of the stick was headed his way at the speed of light.

“You’ve had some kind of premonition, haven’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” I finally answered.

“And it’s about me, isn’t it?” he guessed.

“Yes, some.”

He nodded like it was no big deal.  In fact, he seemed slightly excited.

“Does it involve a girl?” he hazarded.

I think my mouth fell open.

“New girl moved to town.  She’s kinda my friend.  Aunt Ash says we have to help her,” he said.

“Tell me,” I said.

He explained all about a girl and her mother, on the run.  How they’d arrived at Rowan West in a car that stopped working just uphill from the restaurant. That he’d fixed it at Ashling’s insistence and that she’d read the mother-daughter team and knew they needed help.

“So, what was your premonition?” he asked when he’d finished his tale.

“I keep seeing you fighting for your life.  I can’t see your opponents, but I do get flashes of a girl with you.  It’s not much, but it’s strong,” I said.  “Now that you tell me your aunt’s reading, it just makes me more certain than ever.”

“You’re worried you haven’t trained me enough,” he guessed.

“No such thing as training enough.  But I just worry.  Even the best-trained person can slip at the wrong time or not see something coming.  Lady Luck can be the biggest bitch, especially in combat,” I said.

He was heading through the door in front of me and I hated how blasé he was, how excited for adventure.  I rushed him with a rubber knife.

Somehow sensing my attack, he jumped forward, spun around and kicked my leg- hard.  Then he grabbed a metal chair and rushed me, shoving me against the wall, my knife hand trapped by a chair leg, my other hand holding another of the chair legs away from my throat.  We stood that way for a second, then he grinned at me and stepped back.

The next day I headed to Rowan West for an early lunch.  “You’re to go to the residence,” the waitress on lunch duty told me.  Inside the family’s apartment Ashling was waiting for me with two places set at the dining table.

“I thought we’d have a spot of lunch,” she said, setting a pot of soup between the settings.

“I see fresh baked bread too,” I said. “This looks like an attempt at mollifying me.”

“Because it is,” she said with a smile.  “Declan told me about yer vision.  I’ll hear it from ye myself, but jest know that what is coming is meant to be.”

“Fate?” I asked.

She shook her head.  “The will o’ the goddess.  I know for a fact that we’re to help this girl – that Declan is to help this girl.”

“The will of the goddess?” I questioned, unable to keep a strident note out of my voice.

“You know that we serve her – Mother Earth, Nature herself.  Declan was pledged as a newborn babe right under that big tree out back.”

“But how can you know what such a being wants?”

“Because it’s what I do.  Declan may be a prodigy, but I am no slouch, and this is the traditional wheelhouse of Air witches.  I’ve thrown the runes and they were clear as glass, not to mention me own visions.”

“You sound mighty confident, and you’ve got your act down, but I don’t buy it.  This is your boy we’re talking about?”

“Aye, yer right.  I’m worried.  How can I not be?  But it’s Her will and she’d no call on him if he wasn’t ready,” she said.  Her brogue was getting thicker.  She was upset but fighting it hard.  I slid the bread board my way and started cutting slices.

“He is doing pretty well,” I allowed.  “Ran the class while I was gone, ran most of it yesterday, and after, when I beat on him, he more than held his own.  But is this girl worth it?”

“All signs point to yes,” she said with a grin.  Magic 8 ball quotes, damn. “But there’s something about the lass.  She’s no push over Levi.  Not at all.”

“I just don’t like him getting twisted up by hormones.”

“It weren’t that way at all – least not at first.  They were a bit antagonistic they were.  But she is a pretty lass, so who knows.”

“So what do we do?”

“Wait, watch, and help where we can, if we can,” she said.

“Easy for you to say,” I shot back.

“No, Levi – no it isn’t.”

Chapter 45

Declan didn’t show up for practice the next day.  No call, no text, nothing.  It wasn’t a class day, just one of our regular one-on-one sessions.  It gave me a bad feeling, so I armed myself and jumped into the Jeep, my brain on overdrive as I headed to Rowan West.

As it happened, I followed a familiar sheriff’s cruiser right into the parking lot, catching Darci’s eyes in her rear-view mirror.  She looked as worried as I felt.  Declan’s Land Cruiser was parked next to Ashling’s Prius, with an older model Buick Regal parked across the rear of both vehicles.  Then there was what looked like a Ford sedan with an Ohio license plate parked behind the Buick.  Between the two of us, Darci and I blocked all the cars.

Darci got out of her car with the super short Mossberg shotgun that was her issue long gun.  I looked inside the Ford, noting a Hertz contract on the front seat.  Then I heard noises from the trunk.  “I’m going in,” Darci said.

“I’ll be right behind you.  Someone’s in this trunk,” I said.  That made her even more anxious, and she headed into the residence.  The Ford had a trunk release and when I went back and investigated the trunk, I found an angry looking dude wrapped up in duct tape.  My intuition told me to leave him as I had found him.  Closing the trunk most of the way, I left off slamming it to avoid the noise, then walked carefully into the entryway of the O’Carroll home.

Immediately I heard Darci’s voice. “If you’re gonna hang around Declan, you’ll have to learn not to Taser him.  He’s like a crack addict with the damn things.”

Stepping into the family room I came in behind Darci, ready to back her play.  But her gun barrel was pointed down at the ground even though Declan was standing there with Taser wires coming out of him, leading back to a fit looking black guy with an obvious military bearing.  Ashling sat at the table, a middle-aged white woman near her, and a teen girl of mixed ethnicity who still looked somewhat like the woman.

“Who’s Tasing Declan?  I thought we all agreed that was just enabling his habit?” I asked the room.  Darci stepped sideways without looking at my way, eyes on the room. “The outside is clear, although there’s a guy wrapped in duct tape in the trunk of the rental car,” I said, mainly to Darci.

Ashling raised her brows at both of us – kind of a really? Don’t you think I’ve got this? look.

“We arrived at the same time.  Me ‘cause my shift was over and him cause he’s just freaky that way.  When we saw the cars out back, we got a little concerned,” Darci explained.

“Declan didn’t show up for training.  I got worried,” I said.

“Training?” the teen girl asked Declan.  I noted that she looked fit.  Actually, she looked exceptionally fit.

“Krav Maga,” Declan explained.

“Oooh.  I love Krav!” the girl said to him.

So this was the girl, Caeco, and her mother, I realized.  The mother ignored me and the byplay between the kids, instead focusing on Declan.  She asked him how he had handled the Taser.

What followed was an explanation by Ashling about witchcraft, stuff it took years for her say in my presence. I was mildly annoyed by that, but my own intuition was screaming that I pay attention, that what was happening here was going to have a crazy impact on, well, everything.

Ashling explained the four elements of magic and my mouth fell open when at one point she admitted that Declan not only had Earth and Fire but Air as well.  The guy with the taser was named West and was some kind of federal agent for something called Oracle.  And more agents were inbound to take the man in the trunk who was an operative for something called AIR.  I later found out that AIR stood for agents in rebus. Agents in Things I translated.  An ultra-dark organization within the government that acted on its own, without supervision.

Agent West had no difficulty handling the idea of witches or the girl who I learned had escaped along with her mother from a secret AIR lab out west.

He was a smooth talker, but my innate ability didn’t flare at his words, didn’t give me any sense that he was lying.  I noticed that he had a prosthetic leg, which most likely meant he was both ex-military and a veteran with combat experience.  Hardened on the battlefields of the Middle East. Like me.

He laid out a plan by his organization to fool the other group.  Faking the death of the man in the trunk in a car accident, beefing up the false identities of the two women and making over both to change their appearance from possible fugitives to established family. “We’ve got this,” he said.

It sounded good, covered a lot of bases, but it seemed too complicated to me.  The best plans are dirt simple.  This one had a lot of moving parts.  But I wasn’t in charge, so I just listened and watched.

Sure enough a set of black government SUV’s arrived within the hour, and a whole slew of official types took over.  I got out of the way, sitting next to Declan as we watched this older man, Nathan Stewart and his oddly scary assistant arrange and rearrange things to their satisfaction.

“Kinda crazy, huh?” Declan commented as we watched.

“I’ve seen intelligence operations in my time, especially with important scientists, but never with psychics and witches,” I admitted.

“Think it will work?”

I didn’t want to make him more anxious than he was, but I also couldn’t lie.  “You know me… keep it simple stupid is kind of my motto.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding.  We stayed quiet after that.

The spooks wanted life to look normal, but I wanted to be on hand if things went south, so I only opened the shop for half of the morning.  Then I closed well before noon, due to mechanical issues, and headed to the restaurant.

I found Darci drinking coffee and reading the news on her phone while Ashling bustled about the place in a palpable cloud of worry.

“You look sick,” I said to my favorite deputy.  “Did you call off work?”

“My you are a perceptive fellow.  What about you?  Shouldn’t you be at the store?”

“Mechanical issues.  Don’t know when I can get a repair guy there,” I said.

“Unfortunate,” she said, pushing out the other chair at the table with her foot.  I sat and helped myself to the pot of coffee sitting between us.  She went back to her phone and after a bit I dug my laptop out of my messenger bag and worked on my accounts.

We did that till lunch time then ate with Ashling in the apartment, keeping our discussions light and our topics distracting.

“Is he late?” Darci suddenly asked Ashling, halfway through the afternoon.

“School is out early, on account of the Homecoming parade and the football game.  He, Rory and Caeco are going to watch the parade then he’s driving them to Taco Bell in Williston for dinner.  After that it’s off to the game,” she answered, trying to act light-hearted but clearly worried.

“You have a bad feeling?” I asked.

“I often have bad feelings about the lad when he’s out and about,” she said.  “He’s too close to me to be objective so it’s a guessing game as to which is right, and which is wrong.  How about you?”

“Nothing specific but I’m anxious.  Could be just what you said – no objectivity,” I answered.

There was a knock at the interior door to the restaurant and then one of the waitresses poked her head in.  “It’s getting crowded, and chef asked if you’d come in,” she said.

“I’ll be right in,” Ashling said.  “Homecoming weekend is good for business.”

She was off to the kitchen, and we sat in the living room, watching home renovation shows on Discovery.  Darci disappeared into the restaurant for a while, then came back with a big tray of nachos.

“I eat my feelings when I get anxious,” she said. I agreed by joining in.

The six o’clock hour came and went, and we switched to the local news. The weather guy reported a big thunderstorm headed for Castlebury.

By now the game would be kicking off.  Darci’s phone chimed and she snagged it.  “Declan and gang are leaving Williston for the game,” she reported.

“Game might get called for lightning,” I said, pointing out the window where rain streamed down in sheets.

“I sure hope so,” she muttered.

At seven o’clock we started in on national news.  At seven after seven Ashling rushed into the apartment, her phone in her ear, her eyes crazy with fear.  “It’s Rory – something happened at the game.  Men in black uniforms took me boy,” she said.

I lifted my phone and called Agent West who was supposed to be nearby.

“West,” he answered.

“Someone took the kids at the high school,” I told him.  He cursed and hung up.  Three minutes later he called back.

“We’re on it and I’ll be at Rowan West within ten minutes.  Just hold tight, we’ve got this,” he said.

Same words he’d said before.

Chapter 46

Agent West arrived and turned the restaurant into an Oracle field headquarters, three other agents appearing in black government vehicles to set up shop.  Very quickly the dining table was covered in computer monitors as Pelican equipment cases were opened and emptied of high-tech contents.  Darci, Ashling, Dr. Jensen and I all watched as they moved with practiced efficiency that still did nothing to calm our fears.

“I thought we might see your director Stewart here,” I asked, unable to contain my anger any longer.

“You will.  He’s been handling another concurrent incident, but we feel there might be some commonality involved,” Agent West responded.  His fellow agents never even looked up from their monitors.

“What does that even mean?” I asked.

“There’s something big happening, Levi, and our boy be right in the middle of it,” Ashling said, staring at the floor.

West turned to look at her and I noticed she had the attention of the other agents as well.

“Why do you say that ma’am?”

“Ye know I’m a witch and yet ye persist with trying to keep yer secrets.  Well agent man, yer secrets are about out in the open or soon will be,” Ashling said, lifting her eyes to pin West in place. “Mark me words.  This is about to blow sky high.”

“Ashling what do you See?” Darci asked, squeezing her partner’s hand between both of hers.

“I see others of an uncanny sort, beings of legend and fable, and I see one that is not like any of the others but also kind of is.  He can be a brutal sort, can’t he Agent?” the witch asked, her eyes now unfocused and looking at nothing.

West’s expression was frozen, and his partners glanced his way with widened eyes.

“Is this brute the one holding Declan?” Darci asked.

“No, he’s not the problem, at least not for the lad.  Bit of a problem for the AIR folks now, isn’t he?”  she shuddered all over, blinked and looked around.  Then she turned her head to look at the apartment door.  For a second nothing happened, then we all heard tires on gravel, followed by car doors slamming.

The door to the residence opened and a slim figure stepped inside.  Dark brown, almost black, eyes scanned the room and then Stewart’s assistant stepped in and to the right, letting the door swing open behind her.  She was quick and agile, as opposed to the slender, white-haired gentleman who came in behind her.  He was dressed in a black suit and equipped with a black cane that had a shiny silver knob for a head.

“Ah, here we are,” he said with a nod.  “All accounted for I believe.”

“With the exception of our nephew and his girlfriend,” Darci shot back in a rough voice.  The assistant, Adine, turned and looked sharply at the deputy, her gaze hostile enough that my hand moved itself to my waistband, nearer my gun.  Instantly those dark eyes were on me, sudden instinct screaming that she was incredibly dangerous.  That drawing the gun from the holster inside the waistband of my pants might be a very stupid thing to do.

Stewart reached over and touched her arm with one hand, eyes on all of us, his expression calm and a little sad.  “Yes deputy, we have failed you, and them, almost as soon as we began.”

“What, exactly happened?” Dr. Jensen said. “Agent West has been tight lipped.”

West met her glare, his own face impassive.

“We grossly underestimated our enemies.  They had perhaps their top agent on Miss Jensen’s case.”

“I told you that Miseri was always assigned to Caeco, right from the beginning,” Dr. Jensen said in a cold voice.

“You did.  You see AIR has been heavily invested in another area and they have marshalled an enormous number of resources to that end.  We felt it was most likely that Miseri would be so assigned. She was not.”

“You speak of the man from New York,” Ashling said.  It was not a question.

“You know of him?” Stewart asked, instantly fascinated.

“I’ve seen glimmers.  He’s not in New York now though,” Ashling said.

“No, he is not,” Steward said moving further into the room.  “Do you have any idea of where he is?”

Ashling looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowed.  “He’s southwest of us.  New Hampshire I would guess, moving north.”

“Were these visions, Ms. O’Carroll?”

“Aye.  It can be hard to see my boy, but this is bigger than perhaps ye know,” Ashling said. “The goddess, Herself, is interested in these events.”

“I agree, it is very big indeed.  You see AIR has been tangling with a supernatural adversary that we know a little about.  They have, to coin a phrase, bitten off more than they can chew.  They’ve kidnapped someone close to this individual in hopes of luring him into a trap.”

“Well, it worked now, didn’t it?” Ashling retorted.  “Perhaps too well, I’d say, but I’m just interested in getting our children back, safe and sound, not watching the world burn.”

“Come now, dear, that seems a bit dramatic,” Stewart said, eyes suddenly a bit uncertain.

“Not hardly dramatic enough,” the witch responded.  “In fact, we should be getting ready to move,” she said, standing up.

“Sir,” one of the agents at the computers, a woman, said.  “I’m in contact with the individuals following Brutal Asset.”

West started to open his mouth, but Stewart waved him silent.  “They called you directly?”

“Yes, sir.  She says she’s the assistant to the, ah, Crimson Queen.”

“Really?  What does she say?”

“They’re moving north into New Hampshire, sir,” the agent said, her eyes drifting to Ashling as she spoke.

“Northern New Hampshire,” Ashling said.

The female agent’s eyes got huge as she listened to something, her gaze moving slowly from Ashling to Stewart.  “Sir she heard that, and she concurs. She’s requesting to speak to you.”

“Put her on speaker, I’ll talk with her.”

“Sorry sir, not you, but you,” she said turning to Ashling.  She hit a switch and a light lit on a remote wireless speaker on the tabletop.

“Yeah, no offense Stewart, but I’d rather speak to the witch,” a female voice said, sounding completely unconcerned with offending anyone.  “I’m Lydia and I’m with the group following Chris.  You sound like you have some insight?”

“They have our children, Lydia,” Ashling said.  “I’m Ashling and I’m afraid yer Chris is about to hit them hard.”

“Yes Ashling, he’s going to hit them very hard indeed.  But if we can catch up with him, we can hit even harder and help your children at the same time,” Lydia said.

Another female voice followed hers, this one so pure in tone that her Russian accent seemed almost musical.  “Ashling, my name is Tanya.  I can follow my Chosen but if you have any insight, I promise it will help us to find your young ones faster.”

Stewart pulled back, eyes wide in surprise, glancing at his assistant.

“They be north, almost in the center of the northern part of the state, but they’re not on the ground, they be under it,” Ashling said, her eyes closed.

“Under you say?” the dulcet voice asked.

“Concrete and steel, a vast tube sunk deep in the ground,” Ashling said, never opening her eyes.

“Sir, there’s an old Atlas missile silo up there,” one of the male agents said, staring at his screen.  “Privately owned by a… limited liability corporation that’s owned by an offshore entity.”

“If I could have those coordinates it would be very helpful,” Tanya, whoever she was, said.

I was ready to go around behind the agent and get them for her myself, but he just read off the longitude and latitude without even waiting for his boss’s approval. I understood completely.  Whatever that voice needed she should have it.

“If you can spare some helicopters to meet us there, it might speed things up,” Lydia said.

“Aye, ye’ll need to leave fast or none of ye will live,” Ashling said suddenly, her left hand grabbing at Darci’s leg.

“West?” Stewart asked.

“I have three Blackhawks heading to that location now,” West said, “Call sign Dark Shadow.”

“We will contact them directly,” Lydia said.  I kept wanting to hear Tanya’s voice instead.

“You will need the correct frequencies,” West said.

“Oh, we have all your frequencies, agent man,” the sharp little voice said. Then the phone clicked dead.

“Let’s meet them halfway,” Stewart said.

Instantly the entire group packed up and we found ourselves hustled into spacious black Cadillac SUVs.  The drivers headed east toward New Hampshire, and it took us the longest two hours of my life to get to a small, rural airport with a couple of small propeller planes and a single runway.

“We wait here,” West said.

“Where’s Stewart?” I asked looking around.

“He’s moving closer to the action but felt that based on Ms. O’Carroll’s warnings you all should stay right here.”

“How long?” Darci asked.

“Not long,” West said, holding a hand over his earpiece.  “Not long at all.”

Suddenly the night sky to the east lit up with a streak of light, then a massive flash.  Seconds later the ground shook so hard we were almost knocked off our feet.

We turned to West.  “They’re all fine.  En route now.  Minutes away.”

Minutes indeed.

Chapter 47

I kept watch in the direction of the flash of light and the explosion, ignoring a steady stream of police and ambulance vehicles arrived at the little airport over the next ten minutes. Soon the whole place was crowded with law enforcement and EMTs types.

It really was just minutes after that I heard the familiar thump of helicopter blades.  “Here they come,” I said, only the sound came from behind us.  A Bell Ranger set down and disgorged a pair of agents and an anxious looking man and woman.  Next a private plane came from the south, a sweet little corporate jet that set down smoothly, at the far end of the runway, taxing to our position.  No sooner had the engines shut off then I heard more choppers coming from the east.

Three Blackhawks came in low and fast, landing one by one on the runway in front of us.  Cargo side doors opened, releasing an odd mix of civilians and agents from each helicopter.  A huge wolf jumped down from the first chopper, followed by an incredibly athletic group of individuals, a little girl, and then the white-headed form of Nathan Stewart.  Ashling sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the group.  “Look there Levi, vampires and werewolves in the flesh,” she said in a tiny whisper, as if they could hear us over the sounds of the helicopters.

Darci pointed in a different direction, “There they are,” and I turned to look at the second Blackhawk.

Declan’s tall lanky form was easy to pick out along with the compact form of his friend, Caeco.  Some white jacketed science types got out behind them,and  then a bare footed, angry looking man, and another man who moved with the same easy grace as the first group.

Caeco pointed our way, and the two kids broke away from their group and ran toward us.

Ashling immediately enveloped her nephew in a huge hug, Darci jumping into the group hug a second later.  When Ashling looked my way, I joined in.  After a moment the deputy and I stepped back.

Ashling finally let go, looking Declan up and down. “You look a bit rumpled dear, but brilliant,” she said, smiling and hugging him again.  Caeco and her mother were holding hands, looking at each other in silence.  Then the moment broke, and we all started to ask questions.

“Yeah, it was unreal,” Declan said.

I was facing Declan and his back was to the group at the first helicopter, so I noticed the instant one of the men stepped our way, my attention grabbed by his fluid movement and muscular form.  He headed right toward us.

“What happened?” Darci asked, but the others noticed my stare and they all turned to look.

The guy had the strangest eyes, the color hard to figure in the dark, and he was in ridiculous shape, muscles on his muscles.

“He happened,” Declan said.

“Declan, Caeco.  Before you leave for your homes, I just wanted to thank you again for helping Toni,” the man said in a normal voice.  Nothing else was remotely normal about the guy who looked a lot like Superman. An awkward Superman.

“Toni?” Dr. Jensen questioned.

“My goddaughter,” he said, waving a hand back behind him.  “I’m, ah, Chris Gordon.  Just wanted to tell you how extraordinary your kids really are,” he said, smiling.

Declan introduced us all to him in a way that told me this guy was somehow pivotal to the whole adventure.

“Did you play a role in the rescue, Mr. Gordon?” Caeco’s mom demanded suddenly, which caused him to turn toward her, a little startled by her question.

“Yeah, but it was me, my girlfriend and my… er… well, my… dog,” he said scratching his head and glancing back at the wolf who was plumped down next to the little girl, clearly on guard duty.

“Your girlfriend and your dog?” Dr. Jensen questioned.

“Mom, for God’s sake, he’s Brutal Asset!” Caeco interjected, slightly exasperated.

Calm, cool and collected Dr. Jensen took a sharp breath and backed up two steps, eyes wide.

Chris Gordon looked at Caeco, perplexed.  “Er… Brutal Asset?” he asked.

Then he did the strangest thing.  Still staring in confusion at the mother- daughter pair, he said, “Ah, Lydia?”

Lydia from the phone call with Stewart?

There was a rush of air, and a tiny woman appeared, standing at his elbow.  We were fifty feet from the other group, but somehow, she was just… here.

We all flinched at her abrupt appearance, but he never even twitched.

“Lydia, am I Brutal Asset?”

The young woman, who’s attention was wholly fixed on him answered instantly, “Yes, you are.  It was AIR’s codename for your file,” she said in a calm voice that I now recognized from Stewart’s call.

“Ah, who are you?” Darci asked.

“Lydia Chapman, Deputy,” she answered, her expression poker faced but with an odd, knowing gleam in her eyes.  This one liked to know things that no one else knew. Then it hit me that this one was a vampire.  I glanced at Ashling and watched how closely she was watching Lydia.

“How is it that you know AIR’s designation for him, and you don’t?” Caeco’s mom asked, looking first at Lydia and then at Chris.

The small vampire’s expression tightened in a way that told me that was a sensitive question.

“I don’t remember.  I have some short-term amnesia from a head wound.  Things are coming back in bits and pieces, but I’ve still got gaps,” he answered with a shrug.

Ashling, who had been watching Lydia, turned to Chris and patted his hand in a comforting way. “It’ll come back to you, boy-o!  It’ll just take some time,” she said with a smile as if she too knew stuff that we didn’t.

A perfume scented breeze wafted over us, and another female was suddenly there – popping into existence.

She was easily the single most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and she just simply there, standing in front of us, eyes locked on Ashling’s hand as it touched Chris’s.  Electric blue eyes set in an exquisite face, framed by jet black hair.  She was wearing body-hugging combat gear, her figure so perfect that it took a second for me to realize that she had the hilts of two blades poking up over her shoulders.

“Oh, Tanya!  I was just introducing myself to Declan and Caeco’s families, but we got sidetracked by my current lack of recall,” Chris said.

This was the Tanya from the call, the woman whose voice had so much impact.  If anything, her appearance was even more shocking than her voice.

Tanya’s focus was completely on Ashling, her body tense at first, then easing as their eyes met.

“My Chosen feels bad when he can’t remember something, as if it’s his fault that someone shot him in the head with a high-powered rifle,” she said with a light Russian accent, one hand touching his shoulder.  “It makes me a little upset.”

That seemed like a real bad thing… making her upset.  Who would ever want to make her upset?

“Well, dear, I think your young man is quite brilliant for rescuing my Declan and Caeco here,” Ashling said with a smile.

“He is, isn’t he?” the stunning beauty agreed with a megawatt smile.

Someone snorted.

“Let’s not get carried away.  He’s never been a mental giant,” Lydia said.

“Buzzing. I keep hearing this incessant buzzing sound, like a dozen horseflies waiting to bite,” Chris said, waving around his head like there were bugs there.  There was sharp thud, like wood striking wood, but he just grinned while the little vampire rubbed her elbow.

The blue-eyed goddess shook her head and turned to Declan’s aunt. “So, enough about us.  I’m going to take a guess that Declan comes by his abilities from your family, Ashling?” she asked, her voice clear like a bell.

“You would be correct in thinking that, my dear,” Ash replied.

“And you, ma’am, are obviously in law enforcement, which Chris used to be in,” Tanya said to Darci, then turned smoothly to me, pinning me with those incredible eyes.  “But you, sir. I didn’t catch your name or what you do for a living?”

I felt my heart stutter a little, the impact from her attention so intense that it literally knocked all thoughts out of my head.

“Ah, I’m ah, Levi… Levi Guildersleeve.  I’m in books,” I said in a daze, some part of me aware of how inane my answer was.

“You’re in books?  Like, people write about you?  Or you write them yourself?” Tanya asked with a devastating frown.

“I, ah, mean I trade in rare books,” I said, feeling like an idiot.

“He also teaches Krav Maga,” Declan said, his expression delighted at my discomfort.

“Krav, huh?  Is the book business dangerous, then, Mr. Guildersleeve?” Chris asked.

“You have no idea,” I said, trying to recover some semblance of collectedness.

“He not only deals in rare books but ones that deal in the supernatural,” Declan volunteered.

“Really?” Chris’s eyebrows went up as he glanced between the mouthy kid and me. “Like witches’ grimoires?”

We were talking about this stuff right out in the open but when I looked around, I noticed that everyone else in the entire airport was ignoring us.  Like very carefully ignoring us.

“Ah, yes, on occasion.  I also work with artifacts from time to time.  Things that some consider to be of power,” I finally answered.

“But you’re not a witch or warlock like Declan here?” Chris asked.

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you, by any chance, read German?” Chris asked, glancing at Declan.

“In fact, I do,” I answered.

“Seriously?  Are you seriously thinking what I think you’re thinking?” Lydia asked, hands on her hips.

He nodded, turning away to look at Declan.  “Do you vouch for Mr. Guildersleeve, Declan?”

“Ah, I’m not sure what you mean, but if you’re asking if I trust him, then the answer is yes—with my life,” the kid said, which made me choke up a little.

“I have a job for you, Mr. Guildersleeve, if you’re interested.  It involves translating an old book.  An incredibly dangerous old book.  I will of course pay your fees for that kind of thing,” he said.

“We will pay your fees, plus a danger bonus,” Tanya said.

“Well, I have some time in the next few weeks, so I’m sure we could work something out.  But when you say dangerous, what do you mean?” I asked, a tiny flare of incredulous hope flaring inside me.

“It’s a grimoire, in old German.  The book itself is powerful, and the people that want it have already tried to take it from us several times.  I want to know more about it.”

“There are rumors a floating that just such a book has surfaced of late, Mr. Gordon.  The chat rooms are abuzzing about it.  That wouldn’t be your book, now would it?” Ashling asked.

“Chat rooms?  Hmm, witches have chat rooms.  Ah, it might well be, Ms. O’Carroll.  It seems to have stirred your people up.  Maybe you should have a look at it as well, for a fee, of course.”

She was having none of that.  “I’ll not be charging to assist the people that saved my boy, Mr. Gordon.  I owe you a debt.”

“Please call me Chris.  And it’s I who owe these two a debt,” he replied, pointing at Caeco and Declan.  “But I think it’s past time that you folks got home and moved on with your lives, and we have a tired little girl and her parents to escort home.  Why don’t we contact you in a few days and set something up?” he suggested.

As fascinating at this all was, he was right, so I nodded when Ashling glanced my way.

“Mr. Chris!” a tiny voice called out.

The three of them were suddenly turned around, facing the little girl who was running their way, the giant canine running beside her.   Chris, Tanya and Lydia had been facing me and now they weren’t. I hadn’t registered the motion at all.  Their tense forms relaxed as the little girl ran into Chris’s arms.

“This is my… er… our goddaughter, Toni.  And this furry behemoth is Awasos,” Chris said, patting the wolf like it was a retriever.  “Toni, these are Declan’s aunts and his friend Levi and Caeco’s mom, Dr. Jensen.”

The couple who had arrived in the Bell Ranger walked up to our group, clearly the little girl’s parents.  A swarm of agents came with them, including West and Stewart, and things got a little hectic.  After a bit, Stewart suggested that he have the Bell helicopter fly us back home.  Chris agreed, and Tanya waved a hand at the private Lear Jet sitting on the runway. “We should get Toni and her parents’ home too,” she said, as if everyone traveled by private jet.  I gave Chris my card and he said he’d be in touch about this mysterious grimoire.

Less than an hour later we were home.

Chapter 48

I almost drove myself crazy thinking about the book that Gordon had mentioned.  The chance to lay hands on the grimoire of arguably the baddest witch of medieval times.  But I honestly didn’t believe for a second that I would ever get a call about it, so I was shocked when I answered my phone early Thursday morning of that same week, “Mr. Guildersleeve?  Chris Gordon.”

Ten minutes and two phone calls later, we had an appointment for Saturday at Rowan West to look the book over, both myself and Ashling.  It was all I could do to let the customers already in the shop leave before flipping the closed sign and locking the door.  I drove straight to the restaurant. My earlier call to Ashling to see if she could be present was one of the only times that I’ve managed to surprise her.  She had been certain that he would call, just never expected it so quickly.

Declan, when he got home from school, wasn’t even slightly surprised.

“Okay, that’s kind of what we expected, right?” was all he said.

“It’s a wee bit fast is all, don’t ye think?” his aunt asked.

“Not really.  I don’t think he’s the kind of guy to procrastinate.  And if it does have something to do with protecting his goddaughter, then he’s gonna put a rush on it,” he answered.

“Interesting observation, Declan.  I got a similar impression from his call. He’s anxious,” I added.

“Listen, I saw how he was during and after the rescue. You’ve never seen anger like that, and some of it is directed at himself.  He wants a spell or something to protect her better,” Declan said.

“Well, he specifically asked that you and Caeco be on hand if at all possible.  What do you think about that?” I asked.

“Well, if there is a spell or something to be done, he might want witches he knows to help do it.  Toni said he doesn’t like witches much. Maybe he’s had a few bad run-ins or something. He also thinks he owes Caeco and me a debt for helping Toni,” was his answer as he grabbed a snack.

“I gave him a verbal estimate for the cost, and he didn’t bat an eye.  I even included a hazardous job fee of twenty-five percent, and he said fine,” I said.

“Vampires have tuns of bob, Levi.  Compound interest and the like over time, don’t ye know,” Ashling said.

“He’s not a vampire,” Declan corrected her.

“I know, dear, but his girl is,” she replied.  “And I’m of the opinion that she’s a tad bit high up the status ladder, ye see.”

“Well, the other ones all jumped when she was around,” the boy agreed.  “The one in the cell said she was like a queen or something.”

“She’s a bit more than that,” I said, glad to be able to add something they might not know. “I’ve been researching my potential clients, and they seem to be a big deal.  When I asked some of my contacts about Tatiana Demidova, they got real quiet until I explained she might be employing me.  Most don’t know a lot about her except that she’s ultra-important.  The one vampire I know told me I should do whatever she wanted and do it fast, but that I would be in no danger from her or her people if I did an honest job.  I asked what would happen if I didn’t do an honest job, and he implied that he would kill me himself.”

“Wow, nice friend!” Declan said.

“Actually, he kind of is.  He was very matter of fact about it, but he was trying to tell me just how big a role she played.”

“What about Chris?” Declan asked.

“He is her Chosen mate, which is unusual in that vampires almost always Choose other vampires.  My vamp contact got super-serious and told me I should leave him alone.  When I explained that Chris was the one seeking my help, he said to give it.  I got the impression that he was scared of Mr. Gordon.”

Declan snorted.  “Smart vampire. You’d have to see him in action to understand,” he said before stuffing his mouth.

‘Don’t ruin yer dinner, boyo,” Ashling joked.  Like most teen boys, Declan is kind of a bottomless pit.

“Oh, speaking of dinner, Rory’s dad won a gift certificate to Kate’s Pub in Burlington.  He gave it to Rory to take some of us out to dinner tomorrow night.  There’s going to be an Irish band playing.  Alright if I go?” he asked.

“Who’s going?” Aunt Ash asked.

“Rory, Jonah, and myself.  Caeco and her mom are looking for a new house to rent, now that Dr. Jensen’s on retainer to Oracle.  Candace has some big club meeting, so it’s just the boys.”

“I don’t see why not but mind the college bucks!  Keep yer head down,” she replied.

Sleep was tough Friday night, my brain too hopped up with the idea of the book to let me pass out.  I got up early on Saturday, dressed carefully, then raced to the restaurant.  Half a pot of coffee and the Woodsman Special breakfast and I was raring to go.  Ashling set aside the private dining room and as the appointed hour drew closer, I watched out the front windows of the gift shop.  Five minutes before ten a very new Mercedes pulled into the lot, Gordon behind the wheel.

He opened the rear passenger door, and I was shocked to see his beautiful partner sit up, blink twice then slide smoothly out of the car.  She stretched in the morning sun, almost causing an elderly man to trip on his way out of the restaurant.  Gordon was suddenly at the man’s side, catching him before he could fall while Tatiana simply reached into the back of the car and pulled out a white five-gallon pail.  She carried it like it was empty, but the bend in the wire handle told me it was full.

I greeted them at the door, leading them straight to the private room while telling the hostess to find Ashling.

The next few minutes were a blur as they settled at the round table we had set up, a mug of coffee for each. Ashling came in and greeted both, ignoring my growing impatience.

“We’re keeping it in salt water,” Chris told me as he pulled the plastic top off the pail.  Inside, a plastic zipper type bag held a very, very old book.  He pulled it from the water, and I swear, the room seemed to darken a little.  Moments later he had it out of the bag, handing it to me like it was a cheap paperback from a grocery store checkout line.

Das Buch der Dunkelsten Trauer.  The Book of Darkest Sorrow... sitting in my hands.  The most valuable arcane book I had ever heard a rumor of.  I think I kind of fell into my chair.

“We want to see if it can somehow help me protect Toni all the time.  Somehow watch over her like I would,” he said as I began to page through the ancient tome.

“Oh, like being in two places as once or something,” I muttered, my attention completely absorbed by the words of a witch that was likely the basis for the villain in Hansel and Gretel.  The others began to talk quietly but I paid them no mind, my focus completely on the book.  It was grotesque, like a recipe book for murder, torture, and death, but it was fascinating.  I could feel the raw power of the book, the pages almost alive as I turned them, taking notes as I went.

Time passed and then I heard Declan come into the room, greeting everyone, shaking hands all around.  I waved but stayed on task, looking for the references that Chris wanted. And I found them… in spades.

“That must be the book… the grimoire,” Declan said, sounding mildly disgusted.

“Yes, the Book of Darkest Sorrow,” Chris replied.

“And dark it is.  Much of this reads like a slaughterhouse manual.  But I found a reference to dopplegangers.  The author calls them dopplegheists and has a whole section on them,” I announced.

“Yes, that’s what I’m interested in,” Chris said, moving around to look at the book.

“Declan, this book is like a beacon,” Ashling said.  Her tone caught my attention.  She was worried.

“I think it woke me up when you opened the pail.  Is that salt water?” Declan asked.

“Yes, it is.  But Declan, you felt the book?” Tanya asked, concerned.

“Yeah, still do.  Like a rotten pile of roadkill,” he said.

“Will others feel it?” Tanya asked Ashling.

“Possibly,” Ashling said. “It’s very powerful.  Our Rowan will block some of it, but unless it’s encased in the wood or in yer bucket of sea water, it’s gonna radiate some.  There are none of our kind around.”

“Well, despite our best efforts, there’s always a chance that we were tracked here,” Chris said.

“Some of your fellows are rather adamant in their admiration for that book.”

“This book has been avidly sought after by at least seven non-witch supernatural groups and countless Circles for the last three hundred or so years.  I’ve been hearing about it for weeks now among collectors,” I told them.

“Well, we did mention there was danger involved, and we did agree to pay you extra for hazardous duty,” Tanya said, sounding like a lawyer.

“Ms. Demidova, this is me home.  The center of our little two-person Circle, eh, Declan?” Ashling said. “I’ve kept our heads below the radar for all of Declan’s life, but that cat’s been out of the bag since the AIR folks came through.  So, while I would not invite trouble, I think we can more than handle ourselves.”

“A two-person Circle?  I don’t know much, if anything, about witchcraft, but is that even a thing?” Chris asked.

“Not normally, no.  But then, we’re not normal witches, now are we?  I’m not me sister, but by any other measure, I stack up well.  Declan by his ownself is the equivalent of any four or five ordinary witches, maybe more.”

“You say that’s unusual, right? That much power in a male?  But in my limited memories of witches, I’ve seen a male throw balls of fire and another control a tractor-trailer.  How is that possible?” Chris asked.

“Well, impossible is an ugly word, ‘specially among the supernaturals.  But to answer yer question, there have been more males of almost normal witch power in this latest generation.  I’m guessing they were both young men?”

Chris nodded.

“Were they also accompanied by the other witches of their Circle?” she asked.

“Yes, another ten, I think.”

“Well, witches in a circle can link and lend power to one another.  Generally, it’s to the leader, which mostly men are not, ye see.  But tell me now, would this have happened down toward the South, would it?”

“Yes,” he answered. “How did you know?”

“There is a Circle down that away that is reported to be run by a male of most unusual strength.  But it’s like comparing a goat to a quarter horse. Declan could probably match or exceed what he was tossing about without a circle lending him Craft.  I shudder to think what my lad would do with other witches feeding him, eh Declan?” she said with a smile.

“So, you’re not overly worried about us being attacked?” Tanya asked.

“Sending regular spells and such against us, here, within the influence of that tree, would be useless.  Both me sister and I spent years building up the defenses of this area and that tree.  It’s what’s kept us hidden all these years, ye see.  We’ve fed the natural protection of the Rowan, and it has in turn provided a shield.  What does Rory call it?” my aunt asked Declan.

“A force field, Aunt Ash.  Like from Star Trek,” he said.

“Aye, that’s it.  A regular force field it is!” she said.  “But it’ll take time for Levi to translate the spells you’re interested in and he has to get it just right, then I have to gather the materials and prepare everything.  When everything is ready, we’ll do the spell, if you still want to, but I imagine it’ll be after the dinner crowd is gone.”

“You’re gonna need a focus item; two actually.  Linked items that mirror each other,” I told them. “Without those, we can’t do anything.”

The vampire and her guy exchanged a glance, then he pulled a necklace from under his shirt.  The most amazing necklace I’ve ever seen.  A huge black droplet-shaped lump of midnight black on a string of silver that looked like flowing water.

“Good God Almighty, what the devil is that thing?” Ashling asked, shocked.

“It’s a God Tear.”

“Well, tis power beyond any I’ve ever seen, but it’s only one,” Ash said.

He took it off and held the gem in both hands.  “Barbiel mentioned I would need to do this,” he said aside to Tanya, who nodded.

Barbiel? The angel of October?

I had barely wrapped my head around that when he just sort of pulled the damned necklace apart.  One became two.

“How about these?” he asked, holding the two necklaces out to Ashling.

She studied them, frowning a little, for more than a few seconds.  “They have so much power on their own, I kinna tell what effect it will have upon the finished spell,” she said.  “Me guess is it will supercharge the whole thing, but I need to read it through when Levi is finished, which will be a while, by the looks of things.”

“Yeah, I’m only a quarter done, if that,” I said, taking that as my cue to get back to translating.

“As I mentioned, I’m not normally up this early,” I heard Tanya say.  I glanced up to see her in conversation with Declan.

“Tanya is resistant to the sun, but it leaves her sleepy,” Chris said.

“If you would prefer to rest while we grind through this translation, dear, I’m sure me nephew would be happy to show you to our living quarters,” Ashling said. “The sofa is a right wonder.”

“I can vouch for that!” I said, still working on my old German to English.

“Go ahead, dear. Nothing exciting will be happening for a bit,” Aunt Ash said.

“Sure, why not?  Lead on, Declan,” Tanya said.

Declan led both of them out of the room, which honestly was kind of a relief.  Hard to concentrate when the two of them were in the same room.  They were… intense.

I worked through the next paragraph and then judged enough time had passed for them to be in the apartment by now.  Lifting my head, I found Ashling watching me.

“Did you catch the name Barbiel?” I asked.

“I did, yet I do not know it,” she answered.

“Barbiel is an angel.”

She nodded.  “He does have a God Tear,” she said, nodding at the necklaces that lay on a dish towel atop the table.  “And now, he has two.”

“Who would have a God Tear and talk to an angel?”  I asked.

“He is God’s warrior on Earth,” she said.  “And I have some suspicions of my own, but none of that is important.”

“He talks to angels, and it isn’t important?”

“Not to me.  What’s important is keeping that thing you are reading away from my lad.”

“Sorrow?” I asked, although there wasn’t any other book on the table, so it was a stupid response.

“That thing is twisted and vile and it wants him,” she said with a shudder.  “We keep him away from it.”

“I can feel its power but what do you mean it wants him?”

“It has more than power, it has a presence.  A will of its own ya see?”

“You’re saying it’s aware?”

“Aye.  It’s aware of me and it’s very aware of him.  It may try to influence you to do something so be on your guard.”

“Do something?”

“It wants itself in the boy’s hands.  You might feel an impulse to hand it to him, to have him read a passage, to come closer.  Don’t fall for it.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, thinking about what she’d said.  “The book looks for a witch to serve?”

“Use is more apt.  But it shouldn’t come to that.  We’ll keep the boy busy, setting up the ritual space and such.  Once ye be done here, we’ll seal that thing back inside its pail.”

Before I could answer, the door opened, Darci poking her head into the room.  “Caeco and her mother are here and Rory too.  They’re in the apartment with D and the… other two.”

“Yeah.  The other two,” I said.

“I’m yours forever Ashling, but that girl is something else,” Darci said, blowing out a breath.

“Oh, ye don’t think I noticed her did ye?” the pretty Irish witch asked, one brow arched.

“Sounds like we’re all in agreement,” I said, with a smirk.  Darci looked at me and then focused on the table.

“That’s it?  The wonder book of the ages?” Darci asked, nodding at the grimoire.

“It’s a vile stain on the Craft, it is,” Ashling said.

The book quivered under my left and and then snapped shut – by itself.

I pulled my hand away by reflex, like I would if a small dog had snapped at it.

“Yeah, I was speaking of you, dark thing,” Ashling said, addressing the book.  I glanced at Darci and saw her eyes were as wide as my own, then we both looked at the witch.

“I told ye… it’s aware.  And under no circumstances is it to get near my boy.  Darci, would ye tell him to set the circle and prepare the space?  That should occupy him until lunch.  Perhaps, Levi, ye could finish yer translation by then?” she asked, but her words carried the weight of a worried guardian.

“If it will stay open,” I said, tentatively touching the book.  It stayed inert as I opened it back to the dopplegheists section, but I didn’t need her encouragement to speed up my translation.

“I’ll stay here with ye, Levi.  No one should be alone with that thing,” Ashling said.

“Ah, I’ll get the kids working on the space,” Darci said, backing out of the room.  I didn’t blame her for a second, in fact, I wanted to go with her.  The hair was standing up on the back of my neck and on both forearms.

I finished my work in record time, but then we went over what I had written several times, with me double and triple checking my translations.    We were on the third run through when Ashling jerked upright in her chair, a look of shock on her face, just as my amulet tried to burn a hole in my chest.  A second later her startled look was replaced with first satisfaction and then sudden fear.  She was up and running before I could ask a single question.

Chasing her through the building, we went right past Darci, Chris and Tanya who immediately followed. Darci was just behind me but the other two went right past me like I was standing still, catching up with Ashling in a split second.

I got outside seconds after they did, finding them standing in front of a pissed off Declan.

“Yes, Declan, and it bounced right off our wards, now didn’t it?  Like as not, it went right back in their own faces.  So, you don’t need to be doing any of your own, now do you?” she asked him, deep in his personal space.  “Do you?”

The boy looked away, uphill, his body tense.

“What happened?” I heard Chris ask as Darci and I got closer.

“Well now, if I had to guess, I’d say someone else has found you and that book.  They tried a coma spell on us.  It didn’t get through our protections and likely reflected back onto them.  Now Declan, why don’t you do something useful with all that you’re holding and dump it back into the wards?” Ashling said, her tone clearly expecting compliance.

He refused to meet her eyes, but he did turn and look at the Rowan tree.  Then I felt him release a huge bolt of power right into the ward spikes.

“Whoa!  What was that?” Chris asked, clearly impressed.

“Me nephew dumped the response he was carrying into the wards.  It jumps from spike to spike and stone to stone, strengthening all of them,” Ashling said.

“Yeah, I could see it race around the property.  Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t want him responding.  They got their own attack thrown right back at them, so we don’t need to be doing anything rash, now do we?”

“Offense is the best defense,” Tanya noted, sounding a little confused.

Ashling spun around fast, staring right at the beautiful girl who was also a deadly vampire.

“That’s fine for you and yours, my dear,” she said in frigid voice.  “But I’ll not have me nephew headed down that road just yet.”

Tanya looked utterly baffled.

“She doesn’t want D going over to the Dark side,” Rory said, blushing.

“’Cause ya know, I’m half there already!” Declan said, then stormed off toward the barn where the firewood was kept.

Before I could move, Chris turned to Ashling.  “Please let me have a chat with him.  I think I can relate with him on this,” he said.  She nodded and he followed the young witch.

“My Chosen questions himself constantly, especially now that he is missing much of his memory,” Tanya said.

“But he’s God’s warrior?” I asked.

“Much of the time he doesn’t feel deserving of that title,” the vampire said.

Ashling turned away, ostensibly to look over the circle space, but I happened to see the wetness in her eyes.  Caeco and Tanya were watching the barn, both with their heads tilted like they were… listening.  Then I saw Caeco nod slightly, as if in agreement with something.

After a minute or so the two came out of the barn, carrying stacks of wooden poles for the fires.  Caeco went to meet them, helping Declan with his stack as Chris went on by to the circle.  The two kids talked for a moment, then Caeco laughed loudly, and Declan smiled a little.

“We’re done with the book, Chris.   It might be best if it were shut back in its salty pail,” Ashling said.

There was a gust of air and when I turned around, Tanya was just gone, only the sound of the door closing telling me where she went.

“Come Levi, let’s be done with the notes,” Ashling said, and I followed her inside.

The spell hadn’t even started yet and it was already the most dramatic ritual I had even witnessed.

Chapter 49

Ashling gathered herbs, incense and other arcane material from the shop and her own private supplies as I went back over my translation two more times.

Then we all had a massive lunch, more of an early supper, as we would likely miss the normal dinner hour.  Night came early this time of year and Ashling wanted to start the spell at the very beginning of the evening.

Finally, Ashling directed us all outside – it was time.

She set a well-tanned deerskin in the center of the circle, laying the two God Tear amulets in the middle next to her mortar and pestle. The rest of her crafting supplies went around where she would be sitting.  She looked over my notes and then glanced at the sky where a half-full moon was beginning to rise.

“Chris, I’ll be needing you here inside the circle with me.  Tanya, you as well. There’ll be a point where you’ll have to be holding him if you can.  He must remain still, and this won’t be fun,” she said.

“I’ll hold him,” Tanya said.

“Declan, I’ll need you to close the circle, lad, then feed me power when I need it like,” Ash said to her nephew.  He nodded.

“So let us begin.  First, I’ll be talking to the Powers that be a bit. Then Declan will light the fires and it’ll be off ta the races it will.  Once I start, I canna stop the spell, or it will fail.  Nuthing must interfere. Chris, you and Tanya canna leave the circle once we’ve begun, do you understand?”

They both nodded.

“Darci, Levi, I need you two to watch over the Ritual Space, provide overwatch as ye might say.  Caeco, Rory, Abigail, please help them as they direct.  Okay?”

I took a moment to grab my back up insurance from the car.  A legally registered short-barreled AR in 5.56mm.  I always tell Declan to bring enough gun.

Ashling began, speaking in Irish.  I didn’t understand any of it, but I did recognize four names: Danu, Dagda, Aine and Lugh.  Major players in the pantheon of Irish deities.  She was asking for help and a glance at Declan showed that he was surprised a bit at the use of all four.

She finished and nodded at her nephew.  He concentrated for a second and the four pre-laid fires set at the cardinal points of the circle burst into flame. A moment later he knelt and touched the edge of the sand circle that Rory had rather precisely constructed.  There was a snap that was more felt than heard and the hair rose at the back of my neck and on both forearms.

Ashling sucked in a sharpish breath and then held her hands over the necklaces, speaking in very soft words, so quiet that I couldn’t tell if it was English or Irish.  Declan stood just outside the circle near his aunt, his eyes fixed on her, his body held tightly.

Time passed as the twilight deepened to darkness and the half-moon rose higher. Suddenly the only noise I heard was Ashling’s soft words and the crackle of the fires.  The crickets and night birds had all gone silent.  Caeco drew a sharp breath.  I looked where she was looking and saw a pale figure at the edge of the forest, just outside the property wards.  Then I noticed another, and another after that.  Witches – here for the book.

I unzipped my weapon case and pulled out my shorty rifle.  Racking the action put a live round into the chamber.  It also made a bit of noise and Darci immediately appeared by my side.

“If you shoot that thing, the noise will disrupt the spell,” she whispered.  I nodded and slung the gun on its single point sling, following Darci as she headed toward the tree line.

Caeco followed us, her footsteps soft and barely audible.

Darci came to an abrupt stop, her body freezing for a moment then stepping back at the sight of the… things in front of us. My own body reacted automatically to the sight that my brain was still trying to process. Zombies.  Honest to God, decaying, bone exposed zombies. The slung rifle came up, safety off and sights on the head of the dead woman standing closest to us, almost before I knew I was moving.  The head, right?  Shoot the head?

“Let’s pull back,” Darci said.  “The wards should stop them.”

I backed away, sights still on the dead things that were now lining up along the edge of the property.  The closest zombie, one that used to be a male, pressed forward and the wards sizzled and flashed with power and light.  The undead thing froze up as magic fried it, but when the power died down, the body just teetered forward and fell – right into the yard – inside the wards.

Immediately, the woman zombie started to walk across its back.  Darci looked back at her witchy partner, then pulled her concealed Springfield Armory 9mm and shot the woman in the head.  It did nothing.  Nada.

Instantly I pulled down on her and shot the same skull with two much more powerful 5.56mm rounds.  The head collapsed but the body kept coming.  Shit. A second zombie fried out on the wards and fell, making another rotting flesh bridge for its companions.  I saw a bony foot punch right into the rotted back of the fallen zombie, the leg’s owner getting caught for a moment.

Then Caeco was moving past us, Declan’s axe in her hands.   She met the woman zombie and what followed was a master class in bladed weapons craft.  Four lightning-fast swings and the monster was a pile of twitching limbs and torso.  The girl studied her work then slipped forward to take apart the next one.

A third bridge formed, the ward flare lessening as more bodies dragged themselves onto the lawn.  Caeco was now fighting two at once and I saw Darci holster her gun and pick up a fallen tree limb.  Slinging my rifle, I did the same, each of us working to try and protect Caeco’s flanks.  Her sharp blade, swung with authoritative power was the only effective thing against these creatures, as our sticks just pushed the bodies back or occasionally broke a decayed arm bone.

I could hear a lot of talking behind us, Declan’s anxious voice rising only to be answered by his aunt’s calm tones.

Suddenly he yelled out. “Caeco!  Fall back, my turn.”

Instantly, the deadly teen girl bounded back in a single jump, coming even with us.  No fools, the two of us, we were already moving backward and none too soon.

Every crawling, twitching, rotted body on our side of the wards flared into white hot fire, like magnesium torches, the heat enough to make me drop my stick and hold up my hands.

A hand pulled me backwards, Darci’s voice reaching my ears over the jet engine roar of the burning bodies.  “We need to throw more wood on those fires.  He’s pulling heat from them,” she said.

Declan stood between us and the woods, Caeco by his side, as the fires started to dwindle out.  He had just burned almost twenty bodies to greasy ash in less than eight seconds.  But there were others in the woods, and I rushed to help Darci, Rory and Caeco’s mom rebuild the fires.  Ashling continued her work inside the circle, while Chris and Tanya just watched the young witch and his bodyguard.

I saw Declan gesture at the partially burnt bridge bodies, and all three pulled into our yard, then flashed into brief fire, burning up like the others.

“That’ll do for a bit, lad.  Come back and help yer poor aunt,” Ashling said, her tone kind of worried.  No shit. The kid had never, ever displayed so much raw power at once.

He and Caeco came back to the circle, the girl joking with him enough to bring out a smile on his face.

“You need more power, Aunt Ash?” he asked.

“No, lad. I jest don’t want ye burning down the bloody woods and turning the whole damned town ta cinders,” she said, smiling.

“I’m not ready to run after the screaming villagers just yet, Aunt Ash.  Maybe after graduation.”

“Cheeky damned teenager.  He wasn’t like this till he met you, ye know?” Ashling said to Caeco.

“Oh please!  He’s the terror of the school, extorting lunch money, scaring pretty girls, bullying the jocks.  If anything, I’m a calming influence on him,” Caeco said, smirking.

“Yeah, I think yer right, dear.  Maybe between the two of us, we can keep him in check,” Ashling replied, smiling fully.

“It’s his monstrous ego that I’m worried about,” Caeco responded.

“What, like Dr. Jekell and Mr. Narcissist?” Rory asked.

“Funny, Tessing.  Look, I’m reading your future and guess what?  Comedy clubs aren’t in it,” Declan said.  “What next, Aunt Ash?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable with the current discussion.

“Next is the painful part, at least for you, Chris.  I think this part will be like getting torn in half, slowly.  Are you sure you want to continue?”

He nodded.

“You must hold him as near motionless as possible,” Aunt Ash said to Tanya, one eyebrow raised in question.

“He will not move from this spot.  Can we sit?” Tanya asked.

Ashling nodded, so Tanya sat on the ground and pulled Chris down in front of her.  She wrapped her man in a ground control hold, clasping her hands across his chest, legs scissoring his waist.  She kissed his neck and nodded.

What followed was hard to watch.  Much harder to endure I’m sure, but it was still tough to see.  His body shook, twisted and writhed, the sounds of his feet on the ground like jackhammer blows, sounds of pain coming from his mouth, but the petite woman holding him never twitched, never even shifted position.

Finally, Ashling ceased her spell and Chris slumped in exhaustion.

“It’s done, and unless I be badly mistaken, it took the spell well, it did.  Though I don’t know how to test it,” my aunt said, rubbing her lower back and looking tired, herself.

She nodded at Declan, and he broke the circle.

Chris was holding the amulet in one hand and comparing it to the other around his neck.

“How would we test it?” he asked.

The vampire next to him slipped the necklace from his hand and put it over her own neck.  “I think I know how,” she said, then disappeared with a pop.

Caeco and Chris both turned to look at the forest and I suddenly spotted the vampire down near the last few zombies.  She had travelled the distance in the time it took me to turn my head.  How would you fight someone like that?

She suddenly stepped over the ward and the results were spectacular.  Sharp violet light flashed around her, and the remaining monsters exploded into puffs of ash.  For a second it looked like someone else stood next to her, but then the figure vanished.

“How did that feel?” Ashling asked Chris, who finally looked weary.

“A little draining, like a sudden drop in blood sugar.  Also, my vision was sort of doubled—my normal sight plus someone else’s.  I also don’t think there will be any more attacks from that particular source,” he added a little grimly.

“So what did it do?” Caeco asked.

“Chris’s dopplegheist or shadow self, lives, for lack of a better word, in that necklace.  It is spelled to be released when the bearer of the necklace is threatened.  The dopplegheist then deals with the threat,” I explained, remembering what the book had said.

“With supreme effectiveness, it would seem.  But how can it effect such violence?” Dr. Jensen asked.

“According to the book, the spell was created for a witch to form a second self, mostly for observation and to intimidate the witch’s enemies.  But in Chris’s case, and using that God Tear thing as a base, it has much, much greater power.  But it will always draw power from you, Chris, weakening you, distracting you with whatever it sees or hears,” I added.

“Then we must train you to deal with both the power drain and the distraction.  We will begin as soon as we get home,” Tanya said, reappearing in a flash.

“You just love excuses to train, don’t you, zayka?” Chris said.

The deadly and beautiful girl smiled brightly at his use of the Russian endearment.

“Training is vital,” Caeco said.

“I like this one, Christian.  She is a kindred spirit,” Tanya said, smiling.

“Well, we need to be cleaning up this mess and the mess in the woods, then I’m to bed,” Aunt Ash said.

So we did.  I helped Rory with the spell site, wiping out the circle and putting away the craft supplies, while Darci and Tanya drove out the nearby cemetery where the witches likely were set up.

“That was kind of wild, huh?” Rory asked as he raked away the sand that formed the circle.

“The spell, the zombies or Declan burning them all up.”

“All of it.  And Declan says they were revenants, not zombies.”

“Okay,” I said with a smile.  The facts are pretty important to Rory Tessing.  “Tell me, how do you feel about what Declan did?”

“It was baaaadass. Cool as shit!  Oh, sorry,” he said.

“No, I think it definitely warrants a shit,” I said.  “Does it… worry you?”

“That he could do that?  Burn seventeen bodies at once.  It’s a little scary, but you know what?  I think it’s the tip of the iceberg for what he could do.  I think we’re going to see Declan do far more things.  Far bigger things.  I think he’s just getting started.”

“I think you’re right,” I agreed.  Far bigger things indeed.