Chapter 18

“Humans are so predictable,” Hypatia said, showing more of her fangs. “Even my glamour, as thorough and glorious it is, could not overcome the obvious limitations. Get your mind out of the gutter, Jack.”

“Wasn’t the gutter, Hypatia,” Jack said. “It was the grave. Having experienced your power, I am rightfully terrified. You barely touched Scoobee Do with the tip of your claw and you transformed her into something greater, more magical, if that is the correct word.”

Hypatia loosed an almost evil chuckle. “Would you like to know what I did?”

Jack nodded although he was dubious.

“I bound her more deeply to the warp,” Hypatia said. “The weave will be of her own choosing; her free will you humans love to ramble on about is about as close as I can determine. She is strong willed and exuberant, which are traits that cannot be taught, but must be nurtured when found. Speaking of nurturing, I should let her train your new intern at some point.”

“Yeah, great idea, if you want to kill him off early when his start is promising,” Jack said. “He survived Ralph. May I inquire exactly what you did to Ralph and how the world turned into syrup for a time?”

Hypatia released a breath that filled the room with cloves. “Most of the folk do not admit that the nature of time is woven in the weft of the tapestry. Time is part of the framing that gives the magic a structure upon which to build. Even a shaman will not dare to touch the weft until the need is dire. Only dragons, or at least this dragon, is willing to reach into the weft, into the structure of time. Time is a tool, meaningless by itself, but powerful when promoted within the weave. You can feel its potential when you delve deeply into the weave; it lies underneath, undergirding the fabric.”

“The syrupy sensation is you manipulating time?”

“No, the sensation is the effect of me pulling at the welt to slow time, Jack. Ralph was tapping into the weft as well, trying to escape ‘in the blink of an eye’ as you humans say. What he did was stupidly dangerous, because using the weft in this manner destroys the weave and kills life.”

“Then you butchered him,” Jack said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I did not touch him. By blocking his use of the weft with my own, time turned upon him, butchering his body as the threads within the weft returned to its steady state. If I had had the opportunity to apply the just punishment to the crime, I would have followed the same rubric of the wood elf shaman. I would have rewoven Ralph back into the weave as a tree. At least he would have been useful.”

“I didn’t know any of this,” Jack said. “All I saw was brute force of magic.”

Hypatia leaned forward, placing her snout in front of Jack’s face. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she said as her forked tongue poked out between her lips and painted his face with dragon spit. “Don’t touch your face. Give it a minute to set and then we can begin. A medium must be built between us before we can share magic.”

“Are you sure this is going to work and if it doesn’t, is this going to kill me?” Jack asked.

“I said, ‘don’t touch your face.’”

“My skin is itchy. Someone slobbered all over it and, uh, why is the world turning purple?”

“Purple, you say?” Hypatia asked. “What colors did you generate with Scoobee today?”

“Greens, browns, sometimes with tints of orange or yellow,” Jack said.

“Tonight, you are going to see new colors of magic, so it would seem,” Hypatia said. “How exciting.”

The only excitement Jack was considering was the possibility of death by dragon. If he croaked, he would certainly be ranked on the “most interesting ways to die” list and could possibly earn a slot for the yearly Darwin Awards. He wondered how painful a mismatching of magic would be as they attempted to merge. Would the puny human be evaporated in a puff of smoke as the kinetic energy spiked in an out-of-control process? Would the historians list his name as another failed experiment? He was damn sure the corporation would make his name disappear as soon as legally possible.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to keep them from wandering. Everything about the day’s events had been reckless. Each event had spun further out of his control. Jack realized when he was taking a piss in a whorl of magic mid-afternoon that he had surrendered control. He let others take control and, as Soren and Slurpee had admonished him, he let his dick do the thinking. How he had preached to others how dangerous the magic is and who was the one that did not listen?

“While we are waiting,” Jack said, “What is all the talk among the magic folk that I’m a shaman. They all rose as one tonight in my honor when I walked into dinner.”

“The magic folk feel magic as a tactile sense on the skin; they hear the magic running with the sap and throbbing in the blood,” Hypatia said. “They sense it the way birds sense the magnetic north and fish read the water pressure on their bodies. The gods waxed poetic when they created the magic folk, molding them like diving birds in the rush of the magic, dancing like fish in the currents. They smell it. The magic folk are elegant in design, each offering a different ideal of grace and beauty. However, the gods made them mortal and deliberately flawed. They cannot see the magic, like fish trapped in caves for eons have no eyes.”

Hypatia shuffled her hips and settled into the carpet. “Yet, an aberration exists. Andres told me humans call it the recessive gene, and such an aberration explains ginger hair among humans. Once in a generation or so of magic folk, a child will be born who will grow into seeing the magic as the dragonfolk do. Their skills are stronger than most and they are great catalysts for others to generate more magic.”

“So, I have the recessive genes for generating magic,” Jack said.

“Let me ask you a question, Jack. Why are you still here? Your mandatory contract expired three years ago, yet you are still here. Only my precious Andres has been here longer, and I know why he is here.”

“He owes money to the Russian mob, and they cannot touch him here?” Jack said with smile.

Hypatia smiled back, but it was a bit unsettling. “If he had been born in another time, he would have been a celebrated hero with his image chiseled in marble on some Olympian way or inscribed on a stele before a stately temple. Such people cannot thrive in the human civilizations of today. Here he can thrive. He is mortal though and stubborn. This evening, he submitted fully to the power of the magic for the first time. I thank you for that gift. Still, my question stands unanswered.”

“I fit here,” Jack said. “Everywhere else I’ve landed I was a wayfarer taking a rest before my next trek. Wherever I had a job, I found places to visit and things to do for a while. Never did I settle into a place with the intent of staying. The Twilight Lands impose some restrictions to be sure. I miss the conveniences of the human world like cell phones and fried chicken wings any time of the day or night, but I learned that I don’t need them. I enjoy them; well, I enjoyed them. Here, I have Mr. Assyrtiko’s trust and free rein to work with the magic folk as I understand the needs of the job.”

Jack dared to look the dragon in the eye. “I assume from your comments you think humans are ever humping monkeys who are easily distracted by the genitals of another; I’ve been guilty of that charge at times. There is a give and take here though, a respect for others and honor, too. I am more myself in the Twilight Lands; I like myself more, here.”