Chapter 8: Wednesday Morning

According to rumors, Wednesday is supposed to be “Hump Day”. As in “over the hump” from Monday to Friday. “Once you are out of bed, its’ all downhill” my dad used to say. I say that’s wishful thinking.

Rolling out of bed, I went over to my desk and got out my pen and my notepad journal. A friend of mine had told me very often that “if you don’t write it down, it never happened. And everything you write down can be evidence for or against you. So be brief, clear, and concise and as complete as you can without self-incrimination.”

Natalie was a very bright woman. And after I made the note of the things that needed to be done this week, and what had to be done in advance of the Concave on New Year’s, I went to get breakfast. I didn’t feel like cooking so hot oatmeal it was.

Tomorrow, mom and dad get back from Bermuda. I really needed to get them introduced to Natalie, because the legal messes seemed to be popping up regularly, and I could see more and more things getting complicated. I wasn’t so much worried about dad. His engineer background kept him straight and focused. Mom, on the other hand, hadn’t fallen totally in love with my new career as a Mage or Wizard. She kept the Bible next to her bed and did a bit of passage quoting at odd times. Dad’s favorite quote was Arthur C. Clarke. “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

(Mom accused him of using that same passage for every argument. And that me and Maggie were using it too.)

I was pretty sure that Cindy’s father was going to raise some additional level of fuss soon. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to just fade away.

Gathering up the newspaper from the porch and setting it on the table I wandered out to the truck. And got a bit of a shock. My Father had taught me to never just get into a vehicle. Walk around it first. Look under it. See if the tires all have air in them. Look for leaks. And look at the glossy white paint on the back of the truck which said “ATHEISTIC APOSTATE” in large white letters on the rear of my black tail gate. Brush stroke paint. Nicely applied. Clean. Sharp edges. Almost like a decal had been used. And it was dry. Which meant that it wasn’t going to wash off. Exactly the sort of thing you want on the back of your car driving down the road in semi-rural Georgia in the fall. All I needed was a Bulls eye on the doors.

Well, that was not going to go over very well. But I didn’t have time to conventionally clean it off. Reaching into the back seat, I grabbed a couple of rags that were there for casual cleanup. Looking around first, to see if there was anyone watching, I walked to the rear and uttered the cleanup spell that I learned last summer as I wiped the rags across the rear of the truck. The paint magically came off onto the rag, leaving nothing behind. Folding up the rags, I put them in the bed of the truck and got in and started it up and drove off to school.

My next surprise was that Lynn’s car wasn’t there. And Cindy wasn’t in my art class. I reached out along the golden threads that connected Lynn to me and sent a quiet “Good morning” down the line. And got a lot of agitation back.

Well, I had an idea of who directly this pointed to. What to do?

First thing is to remember that I have to remain under the radar. I have too much going on in Augusta, with the Mage council, with the girls, and with magic overall, to do a big lash out. And my involvement in this sort of thing is already too deep to just avoid. I drove Cindy to Augusta; I picked her up at her father’s house and drove her over to Lynns. So I was on the periphery already.

Besides, any direct action I took Cindy would know about. And I wasn’t totally sure of how she would react.

And what if the source of this was not from Robert Taylor directly but from the good Deacon Thomas. The politics of modern religion was always confusing to me, and I needed eventually to talk with Cindy and see if I could figure out who and what was the root cause of this. I thought my tailgate of my truck would be from Cindy’s father. But the other stuff seemed to be less personally insulting. Maybe I am talking with Natalie and Peter too much. I was looking at things like the onion. Skinning it from the outside layer by layer. Then again that was what I had been doing with spells and magic. Skinning the layers and setting up the hooks. That’s how you set five shields one on top of the other and power them from a gem directly. That’s what I did with the bracelet for Ogermont. And it worked for him.

Reaching out with a phone call to Natalie, I asked if there was any way I could help with all of the things that had to be done before the Concave in January. She said that first, the inspectors were due here Friday for the Use and Occupancy permit for the jewelry, furniture, and artifacts showrooms. The Foyer was already set at a max of two hundred fifty occupants (And they would be shoulder to shoulder to do that.) There was no permit needed for the Show however food and beverages would be a challenge. Bartenders had to be licensed in the city, so we needed a couple of them, and we had to provide access to liquor board inspectors for the duration.

“Unless we declare that this is a private event on a private property that is closed to the public for the duration of the event”. Natalie said. “We would be just getting under the wire to do that, as those usually need thirty days for the permit process. And we would be using the same exemptions that the local country club uses in their shows.”

“What about getting help? Are there any issues with getting, say, a rune advisory for artifacts being manufactured?

“Well, that depends. Advisories can be free of charges if there is no compensation listed.”

“Ok. So here is what we do. I’ll let Pat know that we will have tables available to various Mages who want to set up shop as artifact advisors. He can determine who is talented and who isn’t. While they are here at the Conclave, they cannot sell, but they can display and lecture. That lets them transfer information and get the word out.” I spoke. “Will that work?

“Hank, are we getting awfully close to open disclosure. And Reggie might think of this as competing with what happens at the normal Concave in New Orleans. How about we limit the show portion to just the first-floor businesses and have an open gathering spot in the foyer. Leave the business and advisory stuff as private conversations like New Orleans. I don’t think we want a massive circus here in Augusta.”

See what I mean? All these women acting as my guides and advisors. The only problem is that the advice is good, and I am not dumb enough to ignore it. “You probably have a point. I’m biting off more than I can chew again.” I said by way of apology.

“Hank. You always want to do as much as you can as fast as fast as you can. But sometimes I think we have to say under the speed limit and on the right-hand lane.” Natalie said.

“Slow down, you move too fast, you got to make the morning last.” I sang back to her. “Yea, I hear you. When can we put together estimates of manpower for the display areas of the four stores? I know Pat wants to know that so he can shift some more of Abigayle’s people to Augusta from Atlanta.”

“Let me and Paula work on that. You go to school.”

So, I went to school. And was pretty much in class mindset for the rest of the morning.

Lunchtime came and only Bernie was at the table. I got some ribbing from a couple of the guys about only having one knockout woman with me, but I handled that by saying “She’s too much for all of you”.

“How do you keep up with them?” the larger one of the two asked.

“It’s Magic” I replied. “That and a lot of vitamins.”

“So, you heard the stuff about Lynn and Cindy.” Bernie said.

“Besides the car and the damage report, is there anything else?”

“Her mom was accused of running a Brothel” Bernie said.

“Oh hell. How did that go over?” I asked.

“Pretty much as you might guess. The Deacon is the one who said it. Cindy’s father is too reclusive” Bernie said.

“You mean too abusive. I told the sheriff what I saw him do to her.” I replied.

“Well, be that as it may, Lynn’s mom blew her stack at the accusation. And swore that she would never enter ANY church in this town that said those kinds of things.” Bernie said.

“So, I guess organized religion is out, huh?” I said.

“Unless you want to start the church of Hank”. Bernie teased.

“That might be a good gig. Wave my arms and cure people. Right up until the holy rollers here in town cart me off to their fire pyre. Isn’t that what they do? “I said.

“Yea, that might put a damper on things.” Bernie said. “Get it? Damper? Over a fire.”

“That’s kind of a smokey comparison, Bernie” I said.

“Aww. I guess it’s too warm for you.” She replied with a snicker.

And the conversation continued to decline into the mud after that. Fortunately, there wasn’t much time for it to decline too far, as lunch was a short period.

Walking out to my car after school was the real upset to me personally. Walking up to my Jeep, I set down my backpack when I saw it.

The drivers window had been painted with the word “PIMP” and the door had been beaten in. The rear window on the drivers side was broken. Long horizontal scratches went down the entire driver side of the car, with dents in the deep black paint finish. Someone evidently didn’t like my paint removal trick.

Walking around the truck didn’t show any damage on the rear or passenger side. Evidently someone had gotten between my car and the next and done the damage that they did. I started to angry, but then realized that this was public. So, I couldn’t just “Fix and leave”. I realized I was going to be here a while, first to get the school involved and to get a police report. And maybe find a repair shop. I think that the dealership would be the best bet.

Looking under the car, checking for any damage to the Brakes, transmission, or other undercarriage items, I also checked all four tires to make sure he didn’t leave me any surprises. And then I called the dealership. I was too young for them to give me a temp to drive, so I was going to have to carpool with someone or borrow Mom’s car. They would make sure someone was there to replace the glass and start on the clean-up for the repainting. This was a major pain. I used the school phone to call the Sherriff’s department and then went out to wait.

Half an hour later, the deputy showed up to take the report. It was the same one that had been there before. “Someone does not care for you, I guess” he said by way of starting the discussion. “I take it there were no witnesses?”

“I asked, but no one knew when this happened. I park here three rows back because I am usually right against the start time. But I think I will get here earlier in the future.”

“Let me get my polaroid to get some pictures. And then we can do the damage report.”

After we finished the report (In triplicate) I got one copy to take home with me. He assured me that he would have this filed tonight, and the insurance company could get a report from the department tomorrow. I spent the rest of the evening dropping the car off at the dealership, and then calling the insurance company to tell them of the damage, and finally I got a ride home.

Mom and dad had called. The message on the recorder said that they were docked in Savannah and said that they were spending one last day aboard ship and coming home tomorrow. The Cruise was amazing, the Bahama’s were great, and they were tanned and healthy but wanted to come home. And they were anxious to talk with about what had happened since Thanksgiving.

“Your mother and I were visited by a couple of FBI agents who wanted to talk to us in Atlanta. But they got a phone call here on the ship to leave us alone, because things were resolved. What was that all about?” My father asked. “Did you get into trouble?”

All in all, Wednesday was an ugly “Hump Day”.

Thursday.

Thank God for carpools. Thank God for good relationships. Thank God for Bernie and her being able to pick me up and get us to school.

After the way this week was headed, I was wondering what else would go wrong. Not could but would. And until lunch, nothing did. But then Cindy and Lynn came and bombarded me with their previous day, and questions about Friday.

“Hank, Lynn says you don’t need to drive to get to Augusta. Is that true?” Cindy asked.

“We sort of take a fast step and manage to arrive. You have to be careful, or you end up in a wall or something. But so far we are taking it pretty ok.” I said.

“He’s just being cautious with you like he is with all of us.” Lynn said. “I’m sure he’s just making sure no one is ever hurt. He’s like that.”

“Look. We can all look at what to do tomorrow night and then have Saturday and Sunday free in Augusta. And yes, we can minimize the hassles of transportation. But we must make sure we can disguise it so there’s no hint of magic transportation.”

“I can see why we want to be careful”. Cindy said. “The government would lock you up in a lab somewhere and dissect you if they knew what you could do. And my father would cheer them on.”

“That is a concern. So, let’s not give him something to cheer about.” I said with a smile.

Home from the Shores of Bermuda

Mom and dad were home when Bernie dropped me off. She had to get home herself, so she abandoned me at the door with a hug and a long PDA that my mother saw.

“Don’t make love by the backyard gate, love is blind but the neighbors ain’t.” My mother sang when I came into the house.

“Hi Mom. How was the beach?

“It was fine. What trouble did you get into?” She asked.

“Where’s dad, so we can get it all out at once.” I said, looking for a delay.

“He’s at the jeep dealership. Seems that they left a message to ask about the repairs.” Mom answered.

Mom isn’t the one that usually sets up booby traps. That she has bothered to do this one indicated that she was a bit upset. Maybe a lot upset.

“Mom, I can explain”.

“I’m sure you will. So, lets’ have a quick snack and then your father will be here and we can talk this over like civilized people and then I can give you twenty lashes. “She said amicably.

We talked about the trip while we waited for dad. It was a short wait.

“Ok, Hank, what happened to your jeep, and why?”

I told him the entire story about Cindy spending the weekend with the girls at Augusta, and her folks coming home and finding out she wasn’t there. And that evidently, I was the primary culprit in her fall from the grace of her family, that her father had thrown her out. She was finishing up the school year living with Lynn and going to Duke in the summer session, and already had funds to pay for it. I didn’t let out that she had met elves, Ogers, Gnomes and knew about Mages and Warlocks and Wizards and that she was my fifth battery. (That kind of slipped my mind). It didn’t slip moms, but she let it pass with a sly smile. OK, so I am a normal hormone operated boy.

“I should have thought about that. Pentecostals are close to holy rollers and tent revivals. I doubt he will be impressed with you when he knows what you are.” Mom said.

“Still, vandalism of your car isn’t very polite. Especially if, as you say, he threw his daughter out with you providing transportation to her next temporary home. And your encounter with the Deacon Thomas surely didn’t seem to be violent. I wonder if there is a third party interested in your arrangements?” Dad asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s another school kid, or someone going into the yard during the day. I do know that when I get my car back, I am parking it right up next to the building, even if I have to get out of bed at five am.”

“That might be wise. But you said that they painted the rear of it while you were parked here at the house.” Dad said.

“Yes, the first message was painted here. And. It was the same thing he said when I left with Cindy, so either he wrote it down, or it was him.” I replied. “Atheistic Apostate isn’t some verbiage normally found in school. Or church for that matter.”

“Not hardly” Dad said.

“I’ve always held that the bible was a work of man trying to understand and explain God. But this goes beyond what I got in the Episcopal church.” Mom replied.

“Well, your little car repairs are an expensive lesson. The deductible you can cover. But we want to keep the claims down to avoid the insurance rates going up. A prosecution would be nice.” Dad said.” The insurance company said that as long as there was no moving violation attached, or any other party involved, it’s kind of a vague cost. And that we should be looking at parking in better places.”

“Like the garage at 1030?” I asked.

“No, you are not living there.” Mom said. “But we need to get more lights around the house. This is the kind of thing that can get out of hand.”

“And your car won’t be back before Monday. So, you must carpool with someone else if you are going back this weekend. Or step over there when no one is looking.” Dad said.

“Libby, Bernie, Cindy and I are going back Friday after school. We must get the place ready for the New Years Concave. I got Reggie to agree to set up a travel back and forth to the New Orleans Concave for people to see what was available for shopping. But we have a lot of work to do to get that ready first.”

“Son, I worry about you taking all this on” Mom said. “I didn’t expect you to grow into this so soon.”

“Mom, its’ just setting up some stores and stuff. Once it’s in place, it’s going to run itself. Paula and Natalie have the legal and business aspects covered. My name is just on the door and mainly I just fill gems.”

“Well, you have to keep involved, son. As you said, it’s your name on the door.”

I had heard that a lot lately. Name recognition. Branding. I think that this concave will be a lot different from last year for different reasons. I hope.

T.G.I. Friday

Somewhere there is a restaurant with this name. Well, I am sure glad it is end of this week. Mom drove me to school, something that had not happened in two years, and dropped me off. I met the three musketeers in the lunchroom because I got there early, and they were too. Cindy was her usual upbeat self, and Bernie and Lynn were as well.

“What did the police have to say about your car, Lynn?” I asked.

“Well, nothing was broken or damaged. Just painted on the windows. I know your car was worse.” Lynn said.

“Yes, it’s in the shop getting new glass and having to get some paint and body damage repaired. It’s a shame that there wasn’t anyone seeing it.”

“Do you think my dad did it?” Cindy asked.

“I am reserving judgement. Without witnesses or a confession, I don’t have any way to prove it. I will say that the language was what he used when I picked you up. But then again, I don’t make accusations without some pretty strong proof.” I said.

“Thank you. It would be a bit of a guilt trip if you were to act like others would” Cindy said looking at the other two girls. Both of whom blushed a bit.

“I don’t know who did it. I won’t know unless someone tells me, and I am not going to push. There are too many other things going on right now and Christmas is coming.”

“Does this mean we won’t be going to Augusta tonight?” Cindy asked.

“Well, girls, are we going to Augusta this evening?”

“I think I better stick with mom this weekend “Lynn said.

“My dad’s coming home for Christmas, so I have clean-up duty for my mom” Bernie said.

“So, I guess it’s just you and me, if you want Cindy”. I said.

“I would like that. I want to get closer to what you are doing.”

“Ok. Just remember”

“What Happens in Augusta stays in Augusta” all three girls said in conjunction.

Afternoon study hall was quiet, so I reached out to Peter and asked there was anything I needed to be aware of.

Catching up with Cindy and Lynn after school, I wanted to get the plans for the evening.

“I have to go to Lynn’s house and pick up an overnight bag, but then we can trip to Augusta.” Cindy said.

“OK. Here’s my mom. I’ll see you at my house”, I said as we got ready to leave.

We got home at three forty-five. At five o’clock, the phone rang. It was Lynn and she was very upset.

“Cindy was picked up by the Sherriff’s department. Her father swore out a complaint that her Driver’s License was bogus, and that they had to check with DMV to verify it. She’s being held at the office until DMV gets back to her. The DMV office is closed and they are waiting for someone to get there to check on the computers. They said that the charge was falsifying official documents and that it’s a misdemeanor, but Deacon Thomas is swearing that it’s a felony and that she is trafficking in those false documents.” Lynn said I a rush.

“Mom, Can I hitch a ride to the Police station?”

“Hank, do you need to get involved? This is a domestic situation, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I want to at least let her know that someone cares about her situation.”

The car ride was a little tense. And when we got there, Cindy was sitting on a chair while Deacon Thomas was arguing with a desk sergeant that she should be incarcerated. I went over to stand with her while listening to the words coming out of Thomas’s mouth. It was entertaining.

“This woman is under the spell of a demon, and she is dangerous. She is dealing with kids to allow them to drink, and to do all kinds of evil things.”

I was standing next to Cindy’s when an officer came out of the back and said “The license is legit. She turned eighteen in October. Seems she had a year off while in the hospital and they kept her back a grade.”

Which set Deacon Thomas off in a stream of complaints. “This woman cannot live outside of her home. She has no guidance. She needs to be with her family.”

“Sorry, Deacon.” The Sergeant said. “But she is an adult in the eyes of the law. And if she has a place to go to now, we have no choice but to release her.”

“Cindy, come on. Let’s get you out of here.” I said.

“UNHAND HER, You Foul Apostate. You Evil demon.” Thomas said while walking toward us with his hands raised as if to strike me.

Over a year ago, at a school function, I had learned a spell to drop a person’s blood pressure. If you applied it to the arteries going into the head, it constricted the flow so much that you fell unconscious. I hadn’t done it in a long time, but it seemed like now was the time to do it.

Casting the sleep spell, Deacon Thomas, stopped in mid step, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed onto the floor. I stood there and watched, as the two deputies rushed to him to see what was wrong.

“Pulse is light and thready; I think he has had a heart attack. “The older deputy said.

“What did you do, Kid?” the younger one asked me.

“Nothing. I was ten feet away. He screamed and then he collapsed. I hope he’s ok”.

I was a bit lost in thought. I could release the hold on his artery and let him recover. Or keep it constricted and have him have an aneurysm. “First, Harm None”. I heard Sylvia Groton’s voice in my head. “Yes, mom” I answered. And I let the constriction relax.

With the medical team there, and no real reason for Cindy to remain, we beat feet to the car. Mom drove us to Lynn’s house. Where everyone had a great reunion. The moms went to the kitchen to talk, and we three went and gathered stuff for Cindy’s overnight bag.

“If you are still coming?” I asked.

“It seems to me that going away for the weekend is probably the best thing for everyone.” Cindy said with a sad face. “My father and I have been at odds for quite some time, and I guess things came to a head when I went to the Halloween dance. He’s really my stepfather, who adopted me when he married my mother. She met him in Lynchburg Virginia, where he was just getting started in the church after my father died. I guess I have been the biggest fly in their ointment.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I guess it explains why you like me. You are attracted to “Bad Boys””. I said with a grin.

“Probably that’s true. But you do have a magical effect on me.” Cindy said with a smile. “Do we have to go anywhere to leave for Augusta?”