Chapter 24

"Artie! What's wrong?" Mary asked.

"He cut its throat. Blood was everywhere."

Mom yelled down the stairs. "Is everything all right down there?"

It took me a couple of seconds to come to myself. I called back, "Everything is fine. I was only startled."

"Well, don't scream like that unless you've cut off a hand, or at least a finger. You scare the shit out of everyone when you do that."

"Sorry."

In a quiet voice, Mary asked, "What happened?"

"I saw a man in a black robe. He took a big knife and killed a goat. The blood sprayed out." I hadn't seen his face, but the size and build made me believe it was a man.

"Ew. You saw that in the water?"

"Yeah." It had taken place inside a building. The goat's blood had landed on tile.

It was probably an animal sacrifice, thought Ursus. They are metaphorically powerful, but I don't like them, and I don't do them.

"How horrible!" Mary said.

"I didn't like seeing it, and I'm sure the goat didn't like it."

"Is that something that just now happened?"

Ursus took over answering. "Probably, scrying the present and the recent past are easiest."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"I don't think slaughtering an animal is illegal. The people down the street kill their own rabbits all the time, you know."

Mary looked upset. "I don't know if this magic stuff is for me."

"That has to be your decision," I said. After a few moments, she turned off the chord organ and went upstairs.

My concentration was gone, so I called it a night as far as magic was concerned and settled into the corner of the couch with the Norse mythology book. Why did I see what I saw?, I thought.

You were specifically looking for something interesting. That was interesting, wasn't it?

Technically, I guess, but I'd rather not have seen it.

Scrying isn't that easy to control. It takes a lot of practice, and some luck, to see exactly what you want to see.

Could the guy with the goat have been up to something evil?

Sure, but he might have been making a sacrifice in an attempt to cure a sick child or any number of other good things. There is no way to know, given the small bit we saw.

I'm sorry for losing it like that.

You're a beginner, and I'm pleased with the rate you're learning. It takes a long time to train yourself to remain unfazed when confronted with the unexpected, and no one can do it all the time.

Did the sacrifice happen around here?

Probably, nearby in time and space are the easiest things to see. The next time such a situation arises, there are tests we can attempt to learn such things, if you can maintain control of your collected manna.

Sorry.

I'm not scolding. I'm just stating the facts. As I said, you're doing a good job.

I read until bedtime.

Other than my learning that Sean was grounded as well as banned from the cafeteria, Wednesday was uneventful until it was time to go to Kirsten's for lunch. Of course, we walked over holding hands. Mrs. Kennedy was friendly. She wanted to hear about the great snowball incident, so I told her about it in full, only editing for language. She put hoagies, potato chips, and milk in front of Kirsten and me as I talked.

When I finished with my story, she got down to the reason I'd been invited to lunch. "I know that Kirsten has told you that she is again allowed to see you outside of class."

"Yes, the news made me happy."

"As it did her. And, with reservations, I approve as well. Let me talk about those reservations. Kirsten's father likes you. I like you. You seem like a nice, intelligent young man. Mr. Kennedy was wary for a while about the violence that seems to be surrounding you of late, but I talked with your mother, and Kirsten and I eventually convinced him that recent events are atypical for you. We also pointed out the fact that a boy able to defeat four other boys simultaneously, all around his own age and size, was someone probably safer for Kirsten to be around than not."

"I really don't get in that many fights, at least, not until lately."

"I believe you. But the fighting wasn't the only issue. What thrills neither Mr. Kennedy nor I is that our young daughter is showing such interest in the opposite sex at her age. We had hoped that we wouldn't have to deal with this issue until she was a year--or perhaps two--older. But I'm a realist, and I know that hormones start having their way with us at varying ages. She is interested in boys, and as her parents, it's up to us to deal with it."

"I understand," I said. It seemed the safest thing to say.

"It's my life," Kirsten said. "Shouldn't it be up to me to deal with it?" It sounded like she was taking up an old debate.

"It is, but you aren't even twelve years old yet. Your father and I still have a responsibility to supervise you closely for your own protection, and for ours, for that matter. Letting you run loose could be construed as a form of child abuse."

"I'm not asking to run loose. I just want to have a boyfriend in peace."

"And within certain limitations, that's exactly what we're letting you have."

Mrs. Kennedy turned back toward me. "If our daughter weren't so supremely self-confident, her father and I might have tried simply forbidding her to have anything to do with boys. She is self-confident, however, and most of the time we're glad of that blessing. But roses come with thorns, and in this case I'm firmly convinced that Kirsten will do as she wills rather than as she is told." She paused. "May I ask you a question, Arthur?"

"I don't promise to answer."

"When Kirsten's father told her she wasn't allowed to see you, did Kirsten tell you that she wasn't your girlfriend?"

Thank you for putting me on the spot. I knew where my strongest loyalty lay in this situation, at least. "Is it OK with you if I answer that, Kirsten?"

"Go ahead." Her body language looked neutral.

"No, Mrs. Kennedy," I said. "She more-or-less assured me that I was still her boyfriend."

"So that is the reality of the situation. Here are the rules that I expect you and Kirsten to follow. If either of you violate them, you will lose my support for your relationship, and I will ground Kirsten until she is fifteen, if I have to. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Rule one: you will be going on no one-on-one dates any time soon. If you're still together when Kirsten is fourteen or fifteen, ask for a revision then. The exception is for things that kids near your age normally do: school dances, roller-skating, the ice-cream parlor, and so on. Am I clear?"

"Crystal."

"What about in groups?" Kirsten asked.

"Yes, you may do anything with groups of friends that people your age normally do. I will be the final arbiter of what is normal."

"Rule two: you will not pressure Kirsten for any physical contact for which she does not feel ready. Do you understand?"

"I understand, and I would never do that anyway." Indeed, I had someone living in my head that I suspected would assume control of my body and beat the hell out of me with it if I tried.

"Rule three: when my daughter is with you, I expect to know where she is and whom you are with at all times. I will be providing her with a supply of coins for the telephone so that she can inform me of any change in plans, and I am charging you, Arthur, with the responsibility to remind her to call me if she forgets."

"I understand."

"Finally, I don't want to embarrass you both by bringing this up, but as a responsible parent, I believe I have to do so. When I talked with your mother yesterday, Arthur, I received her permission to say this." She had my attention. "You two are much too young to be having sex. You might think you are old enough, but if you believe me about anything, believe me that you aren't."

"Mother!"

"Don't 'Mother' me. I can see how smitten you two are with each other."

"But I know I'm too young for that."

"I know you do, right now, but reason has a tendency to fly out the window when passions are high."

"We'll be careful, Mrs. Kennedy. I never want to hurt Kirsten."

"Please, see that you don't."

After that, lunch returned to normal. After everything cooled down I said, "You're still going caroling tonight, right Kirsten?"

"Oh, yes. I love caroling."

"My husband and I are the parents Mr. Dean drafted as adult supervision," Mrs. Kennedy said.

"Cool. Are you going to sing?"

"Perhaps."

After school, I reminded Mom that I was going caroling with my class after supper and remembered that I hadn't informed Mike and Terry of that fact. I changed clothes, did fifteen minutes of guitar practice, and asked her, "Is it all right if I go to Danny's?"

"Go."

The street was still ugly looking, but the sidewalk was clear, so I rode my bike over on the walk. The usual suspects were all in Danny's garage. "Where's the pedal car?"