Chapter 13

While slowly walking to the kitchen, where I was sure to find at least two of the girls, I decided to let her see real magic, learn that magic exists. She was alone, vulnerable, and if she started talking, she'd spend a long time in the loony bin before recanting. I wanted to see how she'd react, because my parents were coming back; they'd be here in three short days. I wasn't sure just how much I was going to tell them, if anything. It was yet another weight on my back.

As the thought of introductions arose, I shook my head at the rudeness I'd exhibited. Sure, I might not want her around, but completely avoiding an introduction, not even asking after her name, just wasn't typical of me. I spun, raising a calming hand as she gasped.

"Please, there's no need to worry. I want to apologize for failing to introduce myself. I'm Logan Reeves, and this is my parents' home. They're abroad at the moment, and they'll be back on Monday. Do you want to freshen up first, or eat? And what is your name?"

"Oh, ahem yes, sorry. I didn't realize. I'm Trish, well, Patricia actually, but no one ever uses that. I think I'd like to eat and drink first, I'm really dry," she added hesitantly.

"Well," I raised the takeout bags, "that shouldn't be much of a problem. I'm quite hungry myself."

Christine, Mickey and Kristen were all sitting at the kitchen table, eating, talking, and juggling balls of varicoloured light. I could feel Trish freezing up behind me, and dropped the bags. Using my peripheral vision, I snaked a hand behind and caught her wrist, bringing her to the fore.

The bags falling made enough noise to penetrate the girls' conversation, and I was surprised that it was Kristen who ran up to me, jumping and hugging me tight. I released my grip on Trish and hugged her back, and Kris' arms wrapped around my head, bringing me in for a wet kiss.

"I think I did it!" She said loudly, "There's this old guy, a semi-retired machinist and carpenter, he does reproductions of old things, anything from steam engines to custom order bondage gear. He's got a workshop on the other side of town, near the warehouses, and I faxed the blueprints over. Found him on the internet, he has a website, and he e-mailed back, saying that he could do it. It'll take him a couple of weeks, a minimum of ten days, even with top pay. I gave him the go ahead, stressing 'the need for precision'," she spouted breathlessly, mimicking Chris' voice for the last few words.

"And who is she?" Chris and Mickey had gotten up and stepped closer, and Chris was looking at Trish. Mickey was focused on me, and brought a savory little pastry she had in hand to my mouth. I took it, and made a show of biting down on her finger, licking crumbs away. She laughed softly, and retreated when Kris growled at her.

"Let's sit down, I'm starved. This is Trish, untalented, and she needs a drink."

"Yeah, I could use a shot," Trish said. "Hey, what were those coloured things you were playing with?" she asked Chris.

"Dancing lights, a very minor spell conjuration. Trish, these are Christine, Kristen, and Mickey."

"Spell?" Trish gaped.

"How did you get so clean? What happened to the bodies? What do you think this is?" I cast my very first spell again, calling up a small fountain of bubbling fire from my raised index finger. "We're wizards, the real thing."

Perhaps I was a bit too direct, or more likely, Trish was at the end of her rope. Her skin waxy pale, she tottered and collapsed in a faint. My arm still full of (and moving all over) Kris, I was in no position to catch her, but Chris managed to keep her from banging her head on the floor.

"Bodies?" Kris demanded, while the four of us manhandled Trish into a chair. I held her head upright, and wet her lips using a glass of coke, but she didn't wake up. I decided to let her rest for the nonce.

"I thought we were going to keep things secret?" Chris asked in a breathy voice, still exercised from the weight she'd held up and helped carry.

"She's confessed to being a runaway, said she was on her way to her grandmother and was robbed. Five gangers were this close," I held two fingers a millimeter apart, "to raping her, and I shot two of them. Ashed the bodies, so they'll have simply disappeared. It was dark, I didn't look like myself, and was even wearing the bike gloves, so I don't believe there'll be any traces. I tried the grace spell I told you about, it left me all cramped up, and I need to eat. Then I'll get rid of the beard and get into the tub, damn but that would help. As for showing her magic, Chris, who'll believe her?"

"A point," she admitted grudgingly, "but that's not why you did it," she looked at me suspiciously. Mickey, meanwhile, cast the spells that would return my skin and eyes to their original colour, fetched me a large plate with some of the food I'd brought, and began putting the rest away. She was also listening intently, and I shot her a fond look. I never really looked at her body, however splendid it was. When I was gazing at her, it was always at the enchanting perfection of her face.

"True, true," I smiled back at Chris, "I told you my parents are landing on Monday. I don't know what to tell them, if anything. My lawyer's dealing directly with Cynthia by now, but I don't think we can move into the new house, not yet."

"And speaking of the new house," Chris looked thoughtful, "why spend so much money on a wonderful place, when the ritual will tell everyone that that is exactly where we are?"

"Ah, but that is the wonderful thing about it. The ritual is a powerful enough magic to leave a lingering aura, so the other magics we work there will not make anyone look twice. And there's a third circle spell that will mask our magical auras temporarily. I'll use it immediately after the ritual, which will take place in the outdoors, far from the house. We'll finish the ritual, run back to the house, hide beneath the shield with wizard sight active to tell us when they're gone, and let the elementals look. They'll see nothing, ordinary people, and start widening the search. How likely are they to bother the sleeping old people we'll look like under the illusion we'll have ready? And how likely are they to search our manor again? Our biggest asset is their arrogance. They haven't been really challenged in millennia, and they probably can't conceive of a challenge rising. They're used to everyone being deadly afraid of them. Which we are, if we have any sense," I looked the girls in the eyes, and they nodded somberly. "The thought that anyone would be willing to hide in the open, beneath their eyes, would never occur to them. It's a gamble, but so is our survival, in any case. What do you think?"

"It will work," Mickey said instantly, "I'm sure of it. If we manage the technical end, which should not prove too difficult, we'll fool them. It's a brilliant plan. I have some experience with how that kind of arrogance thinks and acts. Guile is the best weapon against them, however smart they may be. From what I've seen in the book, they haven't really looked at humanity, don't really understand technology. The last few hundred years are a mere moment to these creatures. They're more primitive, with hunter mentalities. Not stupid, but they think differently. And remember that they learn from experience, so never use the same trick twice, once you believe they've figured things out."

Kristen beamed at us, and Chris seemed somewhat doubtful.

"It's such a huge gamble," Chris whispered and hugged herself, "and we're gambling with our lives."

Kris and I enveloped Chris in a group hug, kissing her all over, and I motioned a frozen Mickey to join us, bringing her into the hug and kissing her hard on the lips.

"Chris," I whispered and nibbled on her ear lobe, "every spell we cast is a gamble. It will be quite a while before we can hide ourselves adequately. The best we can do just isn't enough."

"How will you cast several third circle spells, one after another?" Chris demanded.

"I'll siphon off some of your energies, with a second circle spell, the first and most minor of the healing magics. I've thought about it, I assure you. We'll refine the plan, but we can — and must, do it. It's our best chance to achieve a temporary measure of security."

Chris relaxed in our grip, and kissed me and then Kris hard on the mouth, before turning to Mickey and touching her lips to lips, more softly. None of missed the significance of her failure to draw back. "I just can't think of anything better," Chris said ruefully, "but I'll certainly try."

"Oh, Logan, the escape supplies are all ready, in all the vehicles. We settled on the Obrotts hostel as a rendezvous. We figured that if they do think to look, they'd check for expensive hotels, not a cheap and relatively modest hostel. It's also far enough away to allow us to make sure we're not followed, and close enough to walk there in less than an hour. Well," Kristen added apologetically, "from here, anyway. From the new house, it's pretty far for a walk, but there isn't anything very close that would escape notice."

"Excellent work, Kris," I set my lips against hers, and bit down gently on her lower lip, butting noses. "I just love efficiency. We're going to make you scream so hard, the roof will vibrate, until we put a gag in," I whispered to her in an intense tone, looking deep into her brown eyes. Kristen flushed visibly, and started to squirm loose from our embrace, dreadfully embarrassed. Chris grinned at me companionably, while Mickey looked inscrutable, a perfect poker face on a perfect face. I looked into her blue eyes, and the opaque, neutral, nonjudgmental coolness shifted, eyes twinkling with merriment as she allowed her lips to bend ever so slightly.

We separated, and I sighed and stretched, truly happy. I had hope for a safer future, and I wasn't alone.

"Now, I want to eat, rest my weary bones in the water, and then come back for another casting session. We all need to get better. I'm really not interested in dealing with Patri... , that is to say, Trish. Could you take her off my hands, please? Tell her about the real world and about magic, but don't mention our plans. See if she'll talk to you."

"She's very beautiful, I think," Chris noted clinically.

"Typical cheerleader, blonde, blue eyes, she's got the build for it," Kris sniffed. "Probably the brains, too."

"Come now," Mickey chided her, "this is a girl who had the courage to run away from home, from a bad situation. And then she nearly got raped, and saw real magic. She can't help how she look."

Kris looked down. "Yes, you're right, I suppose I'm being petty. I still don't like her," she lifted her chin stubbornly. "What do you think, Logan?"

"I don't trust her as far as she can throw me. Other than that, I prefer not to think of her, which is why I consign her to your tender care," I looked at the three of them. "Tomorrow morning, Chris and I are going to play, and Kristen will visit her parents. Mickey, can you deal with her? See what you can find out?"

"I'll do my best," Mickey seemed less than certain, "but I don't think I'm the best one for the job. I'm abysmal at girl talk. I don't know..."

"Just listen to her," Chris told her, "mention a few things about how bad you had it at home, and she'll try to outdo you with how awful things were for her. Listen, and she'll talk. Just do the 'hmmm, ' in the proper places. She'll want to unburden, I'm sure."

I was already stuffing my face, looking at the kitchen counters, noting that Mickey hadn't forgotten — she'd taken my earlier comment concerning cooking to heart. She'd cut and prepared ingredients for a real cookfest, and printed a few recipes from the net. I felt my heart swell for a moment, and nearly choked on a bit of asparagus. I couldn't believe my luck, finding these girls. Chris and Mickey were special, and so was Kristen, if to a lesser degree. I'd warmed to her, but she was still more Christine's friend than someone I'd have chosen for myself.

"What do you think, about telling my parents?" I asked and went back to eating, stopping every now and then to cast a first circle spell.

The girls debated the subject, between eating, casting spells and learning new ones, and decided that they'd have to meet them before giving an informed opinion.

"Good enough," I wiped my mouth with a napkin, "I've taken the edge off, I'm going to remove the beard and change." Thinking of clothes, I noticed that the girls were wearing very short shorts and rather brief tops, only Christine bothering with a bra. Then again, the others could manage without, for Chris it would probably have been painful. They presented a veritable feast for all the senses, I laughed softly.

"What? Is there something on... ? Did I... ?" They asked, words stumbling over each other.

"No, not at all. I just looked at you, and the kitchen, and thought, 'what a feast it is, for all the senses, ' " I looked at them hungrily.

"Whooo," Chris waved a hand, moving the air with the breeze spell, "but is it getting hot in here?"

Trish chose that moment to stir, and I left her to the girls. They could handle her. They could handle most things.

I couldn't wait to have better control over my body. I found shaving to be such an annoying ritual, and I wouldn't mind not having to brush teeth and gargle, either. Our available time and our use of it would change drastically after the ritual. We truly couldn't be counted as humans after that, not entirely. We'd be wizards, in sooth.

Tossing shoes aside, hanging the clothes and putting on shorts and slippers was such a 'back home' ritual that I relaxed further. I stared blankly at a mirror, looking into myself, and found that killing those three creeps bothered me not at all. And that was exactly what bothered me. I'd ingested the 'sanctity of each and every human life' ideal, and I really believed that life possessed a value all its own. Supposedly, only psychos killed easily and casually. The old 'if I wonder whether I'm insane, I must be sane' saw didn't cut it here, I was pretty sure. Psychology was one field of study in which I wasn't terribly well read or well versed, beyond the layman's familiarity of any voracious reader. Then again, I grew up a lot earlier than other people, because I understood what I read, and I read a very great deal. These days, what with James Bond and all the spy thrillers, everyone knew what being a spy was like. Likewise, with all the television and murder stories, the work of a cop, detective and the like was familiar. 'Dead drop' wasn't a mystery, everyone knew the rules of evidence and how to avoid leaving fingerprints behind. Could you become inured to death and violence, to a life out of fantasy, because you read all those books? Especially when I'd somehow managed to keep the deaths almost sanitary, distant. Nothing of the smell of blood, shit and viscera had touched me, everything was almost insulated, most of the foes not merely nonhuman but also inhuman. Oh well, as long as I wasn't chewing on the carpets, I'd just have to manage.

I took the time to clean the pistol, reloaded it, and locked it away. I thought about replacing it, but decided that there was no need. Without bodies, there was no crime, and I'd probably turned the bullets to windblown dust when I dealt with the bodies.

By the time I returned to the kitchen, not quite limping but certainly uncomfortable with the after effects of the grace spell, the girls had managed to calm Trish somewhat. She was still gazing apprehensively at the spells they cast between bites, even as she herself was eating.

Trish's apprehension swelled visibly when I joined them at the table, her peaches and cream complexion paling, but she settled down when nothing awful happened, and we continued to eat and practice magic in silence.

After nearly an hour, with Trish staring wide eyed at the sheer amount of food the four of us demolished, I was feeling nearly replete. "Mickey, how about some cooking practice? Best not use too much magic after dark."

"Sure," she replied after swallowing the bite she'd taken and rose, as Trish inquired, "Why?"

"Surely they explained about the elementals? They patrol the city, mostly at night."

"Oh, right," I could almost feel her roll her eyes at all the nonsense.

I proceeded to ignore her, and worked as chef's aide to Mickey, who moved about the kitchen with smooth, practice expertise. What that girl could do with a cleaver in hand! She was quietly complimentary concerning my skills, and very surprised that a boy could cook at all. We exchanged shop talk as the others looked on, still eating and practicing, Criss and Cross adding the inevitable occasional snide comment.

I did take a moment to snag a piece of paper, and began writing down a few sentences. When most of the work was done, and things were heating and bubbling, I kissed Mickey, and told everyone that I was off to the tub.

"Kris, try to memorize these," I gave her the paper. "At least a few of them, if you can. These sentences, if you repeat even a few of them when and where they seem appropriate, should convince your parents that you're really studying. Especially if you remember the translations from latin and who you're quoting. Try to sound more refined, and pick something elegant to wear. It'll be like a hit from a baseball bat, I assure you. Why, your parents might even think you're becoming lady-like," I grinned at her.

Criss and Cross looked at me intently, and then at each other, shaking their heads and smiling.

"Neat," Kris grinned, "Absolutely devilish," Chris rebutted, "and don't forget you have to memorize things," she poked Kris in the ribs.

"If they ask for details, tell them that's the last thing you want to talk or think about," I advised, "your annoying, headache inducing studies, that is."

"Ah, what are you talking about?" Trish interjected.

"Explain it to her, Kris, I'm going for some hot water and jets."

I went straight to the hot tub, not bothering with a bathing suit, and slowly relaxed under the constant assault from the jets. It wasn't a massage, but it was the next best thing. I lay there, oblivious to the surroundings, eyes closed. I jerked my eyes open when I heard and felt the water splash as someone joined me.

"Chris! Welcome," I found it more than somewhat difficult to look at her face. She hadn't bothered with a suit, either, and her bits and pieces were very distracting. Her large breasts floated in the water, and felt especially nice when she snuggled up to me. We touched each other, exploring with no sense of hurry, with something of a sense of gentle familiarity. For me, home had always been a place, but I was beginning to understand that it could also mean people, very special people. I didn't want it to end, but couldn't quite strangle a yawn.

"Sorry about that," I didn't bring a hand up to catch it, because I didn't want to get my face wet. "You know what the true, best way to a man's heart is, Chris?"

"Going through the ribs?" She shot me a sarcastic look.

"Ah, you kill me," I clutched my chest. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know. I mean, I don't like being scared all the time. Every little noise makes me jump. I'm just... not very brave."

"Yes, you are, Chris," I caught her chin and looked directly into her green eyes.

"No I'm not," she answered weakly.

"You most certainly are. I'm not going to forget our first night together. You only have to get through two more weeks, twenty days at most. Part of the enhancement ritual will allow you to know, to sense what is all around you, not just with wizard sight. You won't be caught by surprise. You're not confident in yourself, in your magic, because it hasn't been tested in combat. But it will, and it will be on our terms, Chris. We're fighting on the guerilla side, we have it much easier. By the time we're a force to be reckoned with, and you're a true general, things will be very, very different. We won't be children anymore, not that we are now," I twisted her hard nipples in my fingers.

"Whooo, adult stuff," she faked a swoon, "so dirty."

"We can always wash it off," I splashed her.

"I've been reading up on the military stuff. It's so fewking complicated, I already feel lost," she complained.

"Read it, and make notes of what seems relevant to us. Consult the book, heavily. The circle of transmutation is much more complicated than we've really seen. We can create materials that are truly magical by twisting what is, making for great weapons. It's not just spells or mystical martial arts, or rituals. There's magical technology too, however silly it may sound."

"Oh, I figured that out already," she elbowed me. "Remember those fighting suits the book said were hidden in Siberia somewhere. I looked them up, and even if I didn't really understand anything about them, the broader concepts are adaptable. I wonder," her words trailed off and got a far, spacey kind of look in her eyes.