John Levitt - Unleashed

This kind of spell is easy. A static spell, one where you change something’s appearance and it stays that way for an extended period, does take some energy. But a fluid spell, one where you basically act as a conduit so the spell lasts only as long as you pay attention and keep the flow going, takes very little effort.

Lou’s coat changed from his normal black and tan into a mottled brown and white, thick and furry. His ears grew long and floppy, his muzzle squared off, and he put on a few pounds as well. In five seconds he’d been transformed into a friendly, smiling cocker spaniel.

Morgan stared at him in disbelief and put out a tentative hand to see if he was real. Then she pulled it back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to touch him. If she had, she would have felt a short coat and a sharp muzzle; I hadn’t gone to the trouble of making a tactile illusion as well-those are tricky and there wasn’t any point.

“Holy crap,” she said. “How did you do that?”

“Just an illusion.” I stopped the energy flow and Lou reverted back to his original form. “That’s just a parlor trick. But there are other, more serious things I can do.”

“Like what?”

“That vision of me you had? I was hunting down something that shouldn’t be in this world at all. I found it, but that didn’t go well. This time we’re prepared and I need your help to find it again.”

“We?”

“I have friends.”

“Friends like you?”

“Sort of.”

She digested this awhile. So far, things were going well. She hadn’t broken out in a cold sweat and quickly departed. Lots of people would have. The next step was more difficult. Would she accept me or fixate on the apparent supernatural? Ordinary citizens can go one of three ways. Morgan wasn’t quite in that category, but she was close.

One, remain skeptical, and insist it’s all some kind of trick. Another is to believe, and get the hell out of there as fast as possible. A third is to become so enamored with the whole concept of magic being real that they can think of nothing else.

If you build up a relationship with a nonpractitioner before you spring it on them, it usually works out okay. They know you, so they’re not as freaked out or blinded by what they see. But if you have just met someone, who you are gets lost in what you can do.

“So, what is it exactly you want me to do?” she finally asked. Her voice was steady, but she wasn’t nearly as calm as she was pretending to be. Nobody could be, not after something so flat-out weird had been sprung on them.

“Do another reading for me,” I said. “Maybe you’ll see me again, somewhere different. I think the nature of what I’m looking for will make it easier for you to see when we intersect.”

“That might be difficult right now. I need to be centered in order to get anything, and right now my psyche feels like it’s been scattered into little pieces.”

“Have another espresso,” I said. “That always calms my nerves.”

She smiled, but it was strained. I gave Lou another slight nod and he walked over and put one paw on her knee. She automatically put a hand down to ruffle his head, and when she did he rubbed against her calf like a cat. She smiled again, and this time the smile was real. Lou and I make a great team at running cons, even if they’re for a good purpose.

“Want to at least give it a try?” I said, holding out my hands.

Morgan took both of them in hers, just like before. She closed her eyes and breathed in, then half out, just like before. This time, though, there was no dramatic conclusion. She simply sat there, breathing evenly for a couple of minutes, before opening her eyes and releasing my hands. She shook her head with a quick back-and-forth motion.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t get anything this time.”

“Nothing?” I had been counting on at least something.

“Just some images. The only thing I could recognize was the Golden Gate Bridge, for what that might be worth.”

“Could you tell which side?”

“This side, I think. It was close to the tower, and I could see sunlight just hitting the top of the tower, so it must have been late afternoon.”

“And could you feel the presence of… well, whatever it is?” She shook her head again, slowly this time.

“No, just the bridge and you. There might have been other people with you.” That wasn’t much help.

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” I said. “I appreciate the effort.”

“Anytime.” She got up from the table and pushed the chair back in.

“I’ll give you a call if anything else comes up,” I said. “Or call me if there’s anything I can do for you.” I wrote my number on a napkin and handed it to her. “Or for any reason.”

Lou hopped into my lap and looked up appealingly at her. He makes a great wingman. Or wingdog.

“Sure,” she said, smiling more at him than at me. “Why not?”

NEXT MORNING I DUMPED ALL THE STONES into the original black-and-white messenger bag they’d come in. Lou looked on approvingly until I took a bunch of them back out, wrapped them in a piece of silk, and put them back in my trunk. When we left the flat, he stalked out ahead of me, stiff-legged and disapproving.

Half an hour later I walked into the study with the distinctive-patterned bag slung over one shoulder. Eli looked at the bag with frank curiosity, while Victor barely looked up from his seat behind his desk. Lou stayed a good distance away from me, and as soon as we entered the study he trotted over to the far wall, as far away from those things as he could get. He didn’t like anything about those rune stones, not one bit. If he could talk, he would have ratted me out for still holding some of them back, I’m sure.

I spilled them out dramatically on top of Victor’s desk, marring the pristine finish. Victor abandoned his casual demeanor as they cascaded past him. Usually he would have been pissed at my cavalier treatment of his precious desk, but in truth he was too awed by the aura of power emanating from them to do anything but gawk at that pile of ancient bones.

Maggie had been curled up under the desk, but when I dumped them out, she shot out of there like her tail was on fire. She ended up next to Lou, and they stared at me with both canine and feline disapproval. The feline variety was a lot more obvious, complete with lashing tail.

Eli bent over to examine the stones. He picked up one and gingerly held it between his fingers, where it glowed softly like a dying firefly.

“I had no idea,” he said, after a moment.

“Yeah,” I said. “They’re special all right.”

“You really shouldn’t have kept these.”

“I know,” I said. I tried to keep my voice neutral, but Eli was good at reading me. For a moment I thought he was going to pursue the matter, but finally he shrugged and placed the stone back into the pile.

“Well, you never know about these things. Maybe it was just as well you did keep them.”

“Do you think these are enough to do the trick?” I asked. Victor had quickly overcome his initial sense of awe and was examining one particular stone that was slightly larger than the rest.

“With this kind of firepower?” he said. “If they don’t, we’re in trouble. These stones are the magical equivalent of RPGs.”

“But we still have to figure out how to harness the power, and what kind of trap to set up,” Eli said, “so we might as well get started.”

Victor opened his safe and hauled out an impressive array of magical props-powders, a copper bar, shavings of various other metals, a few bottles of liquids, a twelve-volt battery, and as always, salt.

“What are you trying to do?” I asked. “Build something that can trap and hold it?”