Founders Falls


Gregory Covington stepped from the elevator into the foyer leading to his apartment, and paused at the sight of an amorphous man-sized smoky figure waiting outside his door.

This in itself was not so unusual.

The fact that it wasn’t Goethe, on the other hand …

Well, that came as a bit of a surprise.

Surprised, yes, but Greg was not struck with any undue sense of alarm. He had a feeling he recognized this particular Dark Servant, and knew by whose direction it had come to pay him a call.

“Good evening,” he said.

It shifted toward him, the deep and faintly glowing indigo orbs of its eyes settling their eerie gaze upon his face. It moved in a cold gritty dusky undulance. One armlike appendage rose, extended out. Gripped in the semi-substantial cloudy mittenshape of its hand was a scroll.

Moonlight-colored paper, sealed with a dollop of midnight-blue wax. Greg accepted it, seeing that the emblem pressed into the wax was the signet he’d expected. The one that Ms. Fortune wore as a heavy silver ring on the first finger of her pale, cool, long-fingered right hand.

A message from Ms. Fortune. Not, he knew, very likely to be a warm and chatty let’s-catch-up note.

Greg took a breath, nodded, and broke the seal. He unrolled the scroll. To the untrained eye, the paper’s surface might have appeared smooth and blank. To him, the magecrypted words were clear, the strong but elegant script identifiable as also being from Ms. Fortune’s own hand.



**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****

Pocket D


She saw him from across the Tiki Lounge, and her heart did a happy little flip-flop.

“Hey, you!” Ammy cried as she rushed to him.

“Hey, Ammy.” Greg threw his arms around her.

“Oh-em-gee good to see you, missed you, how was New Year's?” she babbled as she hugged.

Grinning, he released her and swept an arcane gesture. “Goethe apologized for being late, but he has a Christmas gift for you, too.”

“He’s such a --” she began, with a big smile. The big smile turned into a squeal as Goethe materialized in response to the summoning. “He's all purplesmoky!”

And yes, Goethe, the smutchy figure normally composed of shadows appeared now in a deep swirling violet. One arm-shape waved, patted her on the head – it felt like a soft, faintly misty puff of air. Then Goethe enfolded her in a smoky purple hug.

“How did you do that?” Ammy asked Greg, all but giddy.

“I didn't,” Greg said, waving his hands. “He did. I don't even want to know how he did it. He said he wanted to do something special for you.”

She giggled. “What a big ol' sweetie you are Goethe!”

The smoke turned from purple to pinkish before Goethe faded out. Who knew? Dark Servants could blush!

“And, other than you not being there, New Year's was ... was ... well, it would've been better if you'd been there.” Greg’s smile went bitter. “I hate the family get-togethers.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ammy said, rolling her eyes. “Was this the scary aunts you told me about?”

Nodding, he mimicked elderly-lady kinds of voices. “Gregory, when are we going to meet your girlfriend? Gregory, you look pale, you need more sun. Gregory, you need to leave that horrid place and move back home where you belong. ”

She hugged him again and pressed her forehead to his. “Yeesh gosh that sounds like the kind of stuff I get.”

“So, yeah, a couple of them were there. Aunt Araminta dragged me over by her chair and kept me in stitches for two hours with some filthy stories, but other than that, it was tedium. And the Christmas celebration? Oh, Gods. I think we used at least two miles of wrapping paper.”

“Where do they think is 'home where you belong'?” she asked.

“I know where I think it is,” he said, rubbing her arms. “They want me back with them. I mean, I'm not the Covington of Covington, but I'm ... uh ... hm ... well, if Uncle Algernon doesn't have a kid before he kicks off, and if Cousin Walter refuses to marry, I'm third in line for the head of the family. So I need to learn how to be a society husband and a model citizen.”

“Jeez, sounds like the Royals,” Ammy said. “Did you show up all gothed out for them --?”

“Oh, and I need to get over Dad's death,” he went on, then resumed the mimicking voice. “This wouldn't have happened if he'd stayed where he belonged, and you'll come to a bad end, too, if you remain in Paragon City.”

“What?” she nearly screeched. Her arms tightened around him again. “Omigosh I can't believe they'd just ...”

“Yeah …” Greg fitfully rubbed the back of his neck. “Merry Christmas, hunh?”

“I take it back, sounds less like the Royals and waaaaaay too much like Mom and Grandmother.”

“I gothed out after they told me that.” He found his smile again, though it was weaker than she liked to see. “Why do you think I said I understood what you were going through with 'em?”

“Yeah, I bet ... so did you go classy Edwardian goth or freaky punk-and-piercings goth?”

“Oh, classy. I mean, we still had to attend church for Midnight Mass.”

A gasp and a giggle collided in her throat. “You didn’t! I mean, gosh, I should talk, any-goth would give Mom and Grandmother matching seizures, and don't even get me started on the swimsuit thing ...”

He showed her in a flash of magic, standing before her all in black. The long coat was velvet and ornate, with embroidery depicting various saints. An elaborate ancient crucifix hung against the cravat at his throat.

“I bet they all looked at you like they expected you to spontaneously combust soon as you walked in,” she added.

“They did, and I told them ... ah ... that I'd find my own way to Church. I wound up shadow-walking there. Nothing like coming out for Christmas, eh?”

“Wish I was that brave,” Ammy said.

“It wasn't bravery. It was anger. It was ... fury. And I knew if I stayed, I'd just wind up crying.”

She gave a sad little nod. “Yeah, I know that one too. Think I spent so much of Christmas biting my lip or my tongue or the inside of my cheek it's a wonder I didn't eat half my own face off.”

Smiling, Greg touched her cheek. “I'm glad. It's too pretty just the way it is.”

Ammy closed her eyes a moment and rested her cheek against his warm smooth hand.

“I went into the church, and Father Dominic -- he was my confessor growing up -- saw me and pulled me aside,” Greg continued. “We talked a little before, and a lot after the service.”

“Was he okay or did he like try and give you an exorcism or something?”

“He told me he was sorry he couldn't be there for dad's funeral, but that he'd been praying for me. And that ...” He choked up a bit, but managed. “... and that he was pr ... proud of me. For what I'd done with my life after dad died. He said he knew I was Ewige Nacht, even before I came in gothed up.”

“Oh good ... good, I'm glad ...” she said, pressing his hand to her face.

“So, yeah. It was good to catch up with him, even though I don't follow the faith anymore. I played with the younger cousins, and spoke with some of my group, and finally got to sit at the adult table.”

“Well jeez I should hope so ... if they're all after you to be this productive third-in-line-for-the-throne grownup, they better.”

“Then I left on the 28th, went to New York, and did some ... looking around.”

“In New York?” asked Ammy, tipping her head. “For what?”

Greg hesitated and looked around, at bartenders and pool players and some heroes doing image consulting with Trina on the upper level. “Um ... I can tell you a little about it, but not here. Want to head back to my apartment, Sean's and William's, or the base? I need to set up some wards before I say too much.”

Ooh, apprehension time, the hesitation and the looking around and the way his voice dropped to a huskier murmur.

“Um ... okay, sure ... your place is fine,” she said.

“Sounds good.” His smile, stronger now, alleviated some of her concern. “And it's clean, too.”

**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****

A few moments later …


“Well, enough of this.” Greg squeezed her hand. ‘I've told you about the horror of my Christmas, so why don't you regale me with tales about yours?”

She hated to see him troubled like this, distraught like this, but he would tell her more when and if he could, and she’d be there.

“The Christmas part, yeah ...” Ammy said. “Grandmother's and Grandfather's house again ... the usual family stuff ... David and Leslie flew over from Vienna so I got to see my niece and nephew, that was neat. Lucky for me, some bigshot dean had a New Year's party, super-duper-upscale-fancy, and so I got to go spend it with William and Sean.” Here, she rolled her eyes. “Much more fun, believe me!”

“I can well imagine,” Greg said. “So, did they corrupt you? Take you out to ... oh, I don't know ... an all-male review or something?”

“Greg!” she cried, then burst into a mad gigglefit. “No! Now, if Esme had been there ...”

He laughed. “She probably would've dragged them to one.”

That, Ammy didn’t doubt for a second. Esme and Sean together would either be the best people in the world or the worst ones to throw somebody a surprise party.

“Actually though it was really nice,” she said, thrilling again at the memory. “William even let me fly him so he could watch the fireworks in Atlas Park with us from way up above.”

“That's wonderful! Your brother and Sean are wonderful people.”

“We offered to take Grandma but she had plans with some of the seniors ...” Ammy pondered. “For all I know, they might've gone out partying with Esme. Those red-hat ladies get a little wild when they've been into the champagne, Grandma says.”

As she considered it, she realized she wasn’t sure which was the more alarming prospect … Esme and Sean up to mischief, or Esme and Grandma Marlene. Or, gosh forbid, all of them together …

“Aside from that, well ...” She sighed. “I got pretty worried there for a while about Blaze and Endy, not to mention el Mosquito Gigante when he lost his powers ... the way they kept getting hurt so bad and wouldn't slow down ... jeez, I even threatened Blaze with your godfather, I can't believe I did that ...”

Greg smiled. “Michael would've been proud of you for doing so.”

She laughed, ruefully. Probably he would have been. “You should've seen their faces ... they were almost as shocked as I was, I think. But they're okay now, and we did manage to reverse what happened to el Mosquito Gigante so he's back to his usual self mostly ... then that darn General Ells, have you ever worked with him?”

“General Ellis ... the name doesn't sound familiar.”

“Just Ells, not Ellis ... anyways, he's with some military branch, going after this other military group, called S-I-C, not sure what it stands for exactly ... anyways anyways, he's had us investigate them before but this time it was some aquatic sub base.”

“Oh. Underwater, eh?”

Ammy grimaced. “He made us wear our swimsuits, how embarrassing is that? And oh-em-gee what a mess ... Blaze spent the whole time complaining that his fireworks were gonna get wet, Emmit was worried about the waterproofing on his cybernetic-prosthetics, this new scary-fire-demon-guy Living Damned was worried about, well, him being a fire-demon-guy … as if all that's not bad enough, smack in the middle of everything el Mosquito Gigante goes and decides he should point out how my swimsuit maybe wasn't really right for this and I had to run back to get my coverup! I know he was only trying to help but ...” She stopped, blushing.

“Well, uh, if it would help, I'll be happy to look at your swimsuit and let you know if it's appropriate.” He winked at her.

“Like fighting crime in a skirt isn't weird enough ... yeesh that time on Halloween well nevermind ... but at least all the bad guys were also in wetsuits and stuff.”

“Well that's good.”

“And it is appropriate,” she blustered. “It's not some teensy thing ... I wore it to Esme's house that time, it's not bad, gosh! Just not the best thing to wear into a fight, you know?”

“Oh, well, yeah.” He smiled and stroked her arm. “Don't want your perfect skin getting marred. Did El Mosquito Gigante at least have a decent-sized swimsuit?”

Ammy crinkled her nose. “He should talk anyways ... when he lost his powers, he sort of ... shrunk to almost normal-person sized ... and then when he got his powers back it was this clothes-ripping Hulk-out moment ... I never turned around so fast in my whole entire life.”

“Oh dear.” Trying to keep a straight face, she could tell he was, and doing a fairly good job of it but it looked like a battle he was going to lose.

“Had to just about grab Endy and make her turn around too, the way she was staring,” she added with an even more furious blush.

Greg gave up and laughed. “Hey, just think about what Esme would've done. Or said.”

She swayed with horror. And if Esme, what if Sean …?

“Well, everything else aside, I'm glad we're both back in town. I missed you.” He curled his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him.

“Me, too,” Ammy said, glad enough to let all that go as she snuggled in to him for another hug.

**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****

The Wrong Place



Star Amethyst: Hi Blaze

ConflagratBlaze: Hey Ammy. What's up?

Star Amethyst: Um ... sorry, was thinking ... what's with the green bandanna?

ConflagratBlaze: It's a beanie. And my sister made it.

Star Amethyst: Oh cool, at school or camp or Scouts or something?

ConflagratBlaze: She's starting her own fashion line.

Flamenette: Hi.

ConflagratBlaze: Yo.

Star Amethyst: Oh older sister, sorry … hi Flamenette, how's things?

Flamenette: Anything happening? Fine here. Been busy, school and things. Need a break.

Star Amethyst: *distracted nod* E.N. should be here in a bit, maybe has something he might need to ask for some help with but I'll leave it up to him. Hey, hi

What Fire?: Greetings.

ConflagratBlaze: Yo.

What Fire?: I hope I got the look right.

Flamenette: Looks good to me.

Star Amethyst: *grin, blush* That's great! Hiya Emmit

EMMIT 7: Hi Star and everyone!

ConflagratBlaze: Yo Emmit.

Flamenette: Okay, I finally gave in and did my official unofficial uniform.

Star Amethyst: *more blush* it's not REALLY ... it's just ... *giggle* that's ... pretty cute actually ...

Flamenette: Thanks!

EMMIT 7: What's happening?

Star Amethyst: um well, EN said he was coming by, he's got something he might need a little help with but I'll leave it for him to talk about, 'kay?

Flamenette: Okay. Anything interesting happening besides that?

EMMIT 7: Nothing here.

Star Amethyst: Oh, look what I got!

What Fire?: A floating soda machine? What flavors you got?

ConflagratBlaze: Nice.

Star Amethyst: I wouldn't need to bring a soda machine here, that'd be rude *grin*

Flamenette: It's um... neat?

What Fire?: Huh? *looks around* Oh.

EMMIT 7: That's one of the floating labs?

Star Amethyst: Yeah, they issued me one

Flamenette: So, that's it? The ONLY interesting thing happening?

ConflagratBlaze: Milt said there was some kind of drama, but he won't tell me.

Star Amethyst: Uhm, well, why?

What Fire?: I lead a very slow and ordinary life.

Flamenette: Um... Is it supposed to do that?

Star Amethyst: yeah, scared the heck out of me the first time but it's disposable I guess.

What Fire?: That seems ... wasteful.

Flamenette: Okay... Anyways, I heard a you came through Portal Corps looking for Endy. Not a you-you but a boy-you in black and purple.

Star Amethyst: and so, what, you thought you'd be all hinty and gloaty about it or something? Jeez thanks. What next, everybody want to do the little "I know something you don't know" dance at Ammy?

ConflagratBlaze: .....

Flamenette: Oh get over it. I was only curious. Like what's he like and is he cute.

Star Amethyst: Or are we all waiting for another Epic Freak-Out?

What Fire?: I am not aware of such a dance. Nor am I aware of what event you are speaking.

Flamenette: Are you going to Epic Freak-Out?

Star Amethyst: I was just kind of thinking I'd wait to start talking to everyone about it until I'd had the chance to talk to my boyfriend so it wasn't some kind of big surprise at him.

What Fire?: Why would see do such a thing? She seems a very stable and normal young lady to me.

Flamenette: So say that then. Geeze. No need to get pissy about it.

Star Amethyst: *scuffs foot, looks down, mumbles* Yeah, that's me …

EMMIT 7 listens intently, frowning

Star Amethyst: I'm not the one who was all smug and "sooooo, anything INNNNNteresting happening?" ... jeez. Like if I didn't know, what, everybody else couldn't WAIT to be the one to tell me.

Flamenette: Fine. Enjoy your high horse. Whatever. You know if I wanted to get this kind of shit I have ex boyfriends for that. *leaves*

Star Amethyst: Oh boy oh gosh oh goodie Ammy's going to freak when she hears this.

Juris Arcanus: Hello everyone.

Star Amethyst: *makes face* Great, now she's gonna be mad at me, whoopee. Hey Juris

EMMIT 7: Hi Juris.

ConflagratBlaze: Yo Juris.

Star Amethyst: *heaves a sigh* Crud.

Juris Arcanus: Is something the matter?

ConflagratBlaze: Ammy, chill. No big deal. Just ignore her.

Flamenette, over the comm: *click* I heard that last remark. And I NEVER treated you like that. So if you want to be all Ms. Bitchy, fuck you too! *click*

What Fire?: *awkardly places a hand on Ammy's shoulder* It is ok, little one. Not everything is your fault.

Star Amethyst: *looks around at the others* Was I? You heard her ...

Juris Arcanus: I didn't hear, my apologies

ConflagratBlaze: She was totally pushing you.

EMMIT 7: I don't think so. She was poking at you.

Star Amethyst: "Anything happening?" "Anything else interesting happening besides that?" "So is that the ONLY interesting thing happening?"

What Fire?: *removes hand* Um, er, sorry, that may have been inappropriate of me.

Star Amethyst: When all the time she obviously KNEW ... sorry, Fire, no, it's okay, thanks. So now, what, it's my fault for not wanting to talk about it just yet or not being entertaining by having another meltdown? *another big sigh* Whatever then, fine.

EMMIT 7: No. First I've heard about it.

ConflagratBlaze: it's not your fault, Ammy. You didn't do anything.

Juris Arcanus still no idea what just happened....

Star Amethyst: Yeah, Blaze, which is probably the problem.

ConflagratBlaze: .....

Star Amethyst: *shaky smile at EN* Hey you.

Ewige Nacht: Hey, Ammy.

Star Amethyst: *hug, hold tight*

Ewige Nacht: *hugs back* *whispers* After the meeting?

Star Amethyst: *whispers* Or if we could just step in the office for a minute? Since it's kind of already come up in the group? *louder* Hiya Dr Kate.

Juris Arcanus: Hello.

Dr. Kate Monaghan: Hello all

EMMIT 7: Hi Dr Kate

Ewige Nacht: Hello, Doctor Kate. Would you all excuse us, please? Ammy and I need to speak for a moment.

Star Amethyst: bee-arr-bee, 'kay?

**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****

(( arc # 357965, “Of Magics and Darkness,” for the curious ))


K’or Zethus


Star Amethyst: Everyone ready?

Dr. Kate Monaghan: Ready.

EMMIT 7: Ready!

ConflagratBlaze: Yeah.

What Fire?: Sure.

Juris Arcanus: Let Ewige or myself handle the grimoires....these tomes tend to be trapped.

Star Amethyst: No reading the magic books?

Ewige Nacht: Oh, Gods, no!

Juris Arcanus: Don't even touch them.

Ewige Nacht: I like you sane, kitten.

Star Amethyst: Kidding, honest. I saw Evil Dead, and The Mummy.

Juris Arcanus: I knew one of the consultants for the Mummy; he met an ill fate with just such a tome –

Star Amethyst: … um …

Ewige Nacht: Oh no. Oh no. DAMN IT!

Juris Arcanus: Ewige, what is it?

Star Amethyst: There was a coffin ...

Ewige Nacht: We only have to find three people now, instead of four.

Star Amethyst: It's one of them?

EMMIT 7: Dude...

Ewige Nacht: Yes.

Juris Arcanus: Blood rituals.

Ewige Nacht: One of the apprentices. One of the children.

Star Amethyst: Oh jeez ... I'm so sorry.

Behemoth: If you know what's good for you, fool, you'll quit playing dumb with us!

Rick: I'm not playing! I really AM dumb!

Behemoth: Deal with him later ... we have bigger problems!

Rick: Hey! Over here! Help!

Rick: This has convinced me. No more magic. Like, EVER.

Ewige Nacht: We saved one, though. And it's not your fault. This is a risk we take when we deal with the darkness. These children shouldn't have, though.

Juris Arcanus: Are you aware of why the Circle would want these youths, Ewige?

EMMIT 7: *looks around curiously* There's some of those demons up top

Ewige Nacht: All I can think of is because they're mage-gifted. The Circle has so many rituals, it's hard to tell. The last worker, Rick, said he wasn't, though. Wasn't mage-gifted.

Juris Arcanus: He did say that.

Star Amethyst: Desk over there.

Ewige Nacht: ... Lords of Darkness.

Star Amethyst: EN? You okay? You look pale ... um, paler ...

Ewige Nacht: It appears as if one of the youths is a conduit, or has drawn a grimoire within her.

Juris Arcanus: Subsumed?

Star Amethyst: Ooh gosh that doesn't sound good.

Ewige Nacht: Yes. The mages want that tome at any cost.

Star Amethyst: So we need to find it first?

Juris Arcanus: We need to find HER.

Ewige Nacht: Her. We need to find her first.

Juris Arcanus: Will this require what I think it requires, Ewige?

Ewige Nacht: I pray not.

Juris Arcanus: Lawyers occasionally pride themselves on their imagination with the law.

Ewige Nacht: Hm. We have the Transferosus. *harsh laugh* True enough.

Juris Arcanus: Pray that we can imagine our way out of this

Star Amethyst: What, um, do I want to know what you think it might require?

Ewige Nacht: Ammy, you don't want to know.

Star Amethyst: *bites lip*

Guide: There's no reason this has to go badly for you. Help us with the Grimoires, and you'll be rewarded.

Selena: After what happened to Valerie? Dream on!

Guide: What Fire??! Here? How? Impossible!

Selena: He didn't even come rescue us himself? I thought ... oh!

Selena: Thanks for saving my life.

Ewige Nacht: The only apprentice left is the one they forced to read from the grimoire. Her name is Valerie.

Star Amethyst: After what you were just saying about the books ...

Ewige Nacht: Yes.

Juris Arcanus: Bestiarus

Ewige Nacht: Two down. I'm afraid I know which one she read, then.

EMMIT 7: Is that bad?

Juris Arcanus: Probably.

Ewige Nacht: That depends on whether or not you consider spells that can control -- or completely destroy -- souls to be bad.

Star Amethyst: More books over here.

Juris Arcanus: Phantomagique

Star Amethyst: I'm not touching.

Ewige Nacht: Yes, we just got Somnius

Star Amethyst: Um ...

Juris Arcanus: What sort of fool allows the non-gifted to read something like that?

Star Amethyst: Looks like maybe ... what's LEFT of a book ...

Ewige Nacht: ... Baelzebub's balls, this is bad.

Juris Arcanus: Who is this associate?

Ewige Nacht: This is what's left of the Phantomagique. She's got it within her now.

Juris Arcanus: Who is the one that let this happen?

Star Amethyst: So then where's ...?

Juris Arcanus: Out there, somewhere.

Ewige Nacht: I don't know. Let's see if Therese has had any further traces work, shall we?

EMMIT 7: That sounds really bad.

Star Amethyst: Yeah.

Juris Arcanus: If uncontrolled, she could threaten...well, much more than the city, I imagine.

Star Amethyst: Oh jeez.

Ewige Nacht: She found Rufinio when he left the temple. I have the coordinates of the island he's using as a confab point.

Star Amethyst: He's the one who did this?

Ewige Nacht: Let's be careful. I don't want anyone taking any undue risks.

Star Amethyst: *nod*

EMMIT 7: *mumbles* I got a bad feeling about this...

Juris Arcanus: Lovely place he's found.

Star Amethyst: This place feels funny.

Ewige Nacht: Not surprising. At all.

EMMIT 7: That's a big tree over there

Ewige Nacht: Yes. A thorn tr ... he wouldn't.

Juris Arcanus: ...I've never seen one this close

Star Amethyst: Wouldn't wha -- another thing I don't want to know?

Juris Arcanus: This is bad.

Ewige Nacht: Yes, kitten. Yes.

Rufinio: ... far too great to be wasted on some mere talentless slip of a girl! Once it has been torn from her, and added to MY power, I, Rufinio, will become UNSTOPPABLE!!!!!

Juris Arcanus: I've found him.

Star Amethyst: Gosh lots of demons … he's ranty

Juris Arcanus: They tend to be.

What Fire?: We ready?

Ewige Nacht: We'll have him ranting even more soon. I hope.

Star Amethyst: I'm ready.

EMMIT 7: ...yes...

Star Amethyst: ... "talentless slip of a girl" ... what a jerk ...

Ewige Nacht: *mutters* Unless ... if he's gathering ... but then ...

EMMIT 7 shakes his head

Star Amethyst: You okay Emmit?

EMMIT 7: I'm fine...

Ewige Nacht: I'm glad one of us is.

Juris Arcanus: As bad as it might be for us, let's make sure he doesn't have a say.

Star Amethyst: *squeezes Emmit's shoulder, then EN's hand* it's all right, we're taking care of it.

Ewige Nacht: Agreed. In case I haven't said it, thank you all for coming with me. And please, be as safe as you can.

Star Amethyst: We're with you EN, absolutely.

Ewige Nacht: RUFINIO! Release her!

Rufinio: What is this? Who dares? I promise you, Dr. Kate Monaghan, your suffering is going to be EPIC! Bah! You call that pain? You cannot hope to defeat ME! ... and even if you did, what makes you think I'd tell you where to find the girl? You ... urgh ... you offer a very compelling argument ... K'or Miron ... they hold her within K'or Miron!

Star Amethyst: Everyone okay?

Ewige Nacht: Hm. We have the key to her cage. Now we need to fight her jailors.

What Fire?: Lead on, young mage man.

Ewige Nacht: And now, the Oranbegan dungeon. And pray that we're not too late to save her.

Star Amethyst: We're ... um ... we aren't going to have to ... you know ...?

Ewige Nacht: If we have to face her -- if she's been turned -- we may have to.

Star Amethyst: *deep breath* I hate that ... it's not HER fault ...

Ewige Nacht: If that comes to pass, don't hesitate. Because she won't. Shall we?

**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****

(( flashback continuation, takes place before the meeting and arc ))

The astral plane, previously


“Therese,” he said. The voice was his own, not that of the boy he appeared but that of one whose trials had drawn it low and hoarse and almost inhuman. He extended his hands to her. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“Gregory, if I may?” She likewise reached out. Though neither of them were here in flesh, the contact was to all intents and purposes as real as if they’d both been standing in the same room. “Thank you.”

“We've saved lives together; you most certainly may.” He emphasized this allowance with a firm squeeze.

She nodded. “I appreciate your willingness to meet with me.”

“Donato conveyed to Goethe a sense of urgency beyond that expressed in your note,” he said.

“Yes …”

“Add to that the fact that you're one of the mages I most respect, and I could not in conscience refuse.”

“Rest assured, though,” she said, withdrawing her hands to steeple her fingers in a pose of promise before her face, “in agreeing to meet, you're obliged to no more than that. I ask in part because Paragon City is your home.”

He dipped his head. “Yes. Yes it is.”

“And as you no doubt know,” she added, trying to temper the seriousness of her tone with a small smile, “certain of our ... colleagues ... can be territorial. Not to mention secretive, smug, hoarding and ... well, I'm sure you understand.”

Ewige Nacht laughed. “I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.” Then he coughed, and in the cough’s thick rumble was a noise that sounded suspiciously like a word … that word being ‘Warlocke.’

And that when she’d not yet begun to tell him the reason she’d requested this meeting …

“Of course not,” she said, still striving for more lightness. “Being not only a mage yourself but the godson of a mage and academic ... perish the thought.”

“I try to keep grounded, even with the magic soaring through me. And perhaps it's a good thing that I'm starting so early.”

“Warlocke, yes …” Therese sighed, and forsook her efforts at levity. Best to proceed. “It is a sorry state of affairs when I, not known for diplomacy myself as William could attest, am the one called upon to try and smooth over a tricky situation.”

“Therese, I ... hm. Would you prefer to continue this within the Astral realm, or can I offer you the hospitality of my home, as well-warded as I and my godfather can manage?” He smiled. “I have a feeling this explanation is going to take rather a large quantity of tea.”

“Thank you,” she said, “but communicating in the astral plane is quicker, and I have spells going here that require my presence.”

“So be it then.”

“We can however make what illusions of comfort as might be required, so, feel free to set what stage as you like,” she offered, but he waved it off.

“No, no. No worries. I’m comfortable in this realm as it is. And yes, you can be ... less than tolerant of fools and braggarts, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Still, what has you so concerned?”

“The Circle of Thorns.”

His voice chilled. “Please, do go on.”

“They are not nearly so active in New York as they are in Paragon City, but they still cause us problems from time to time.”

He nodded, those eldritch-burning eyes never leaving hers.

“Last night, they caused a rather large one,” she said.

“Oh?” His brow furrowed, and she knew he was searching through his knowledge of recent and ongoing events. News had ways of traveling among their network even swifter than it did by computer. He frowned as if wondering what he could possibly have missed or overlooked. “What happened?”

“They broke into one of Warlocke's residences.”

Here, he blinked. “Buh ... but ...” Then the moment of astonishment passed as he realized he hadn’t missed something big, he couldn’t have, he would have heard if the news had been there to be heard. That he hadn’t could only mean it had been lidded, silenced, and tightly guarded. “You ... have my full attention.”

“He keeps several, of course, in various cities. London, Paris, Chicago, Budapest …” Therese indicated with a vague gesture that there were others, too many to list and not important to this anyway.

“Yes, I can see how he would,” Ewige Nacht said. “Michael has a few homes scattered here and there, as well.”

“At each, he has his libraries and workrooms, his vaults, all of that. Eggs in one basket, and so on.”

This was nothing surprising to anyone with more than a little experience in their arts, so he nodded. “Interconnected, or each one containing its own gems?”

“Separate, with their own wards and defenses, thank all the gods that be for that much.” Her relief, here in the astral plane, was a palpable sensation like a soothing mist upon her face. “He is still trying to determine how they breached his spells, but they've done a fair job of covering their tracks.”

“Some of their mages are frightfully good at what they do.”

“Yes. I've been able to glean enough from the survivors to get a preliminary trace ... which pointed me only so far as Paragon City. The spells I have working now are trying to narrow it down.”

“Ah,” he said. “Hence your need to remain in the astral realm. Your workings at home, with a protected body, tied to your astral trace.”

“As you might imagine, though, going directly to MAGI or the like presents certain difficulties,” she said.

“MAGI would want to wrangle over jurisdiction, the mages in Vanguard would want to determine which laws were broken before beginning the investigation, the Midnighters would flutter, fuss, and fret, and ultimately do nothing ...”

“And ...” She paused, and gave a slight pursed-lip sigh. “... well, Warlocke is not one to engender a lot of affection amongst his peers. Respect, perhaps. Affection, not so much.”

“Therese, forgive me, but I do understand. All too well.”

“I suspected you would.” She shook her head. “Anton is a strong wizard, but he is not a nice man.”

“Goethe wouldn't manifest around him. That's enough for me.”

“To be blunt, he is a vain, arrogant, egomaniacal horse's ass.”

“But his skill and expertise is solid. An expert theorist, and an accomplished mage.” He pondered, then amended. “No, you're right. A wizard. An accomplished wizard.”

“To be in a spot where he has to ask for help does not go down well,” she said. “To be in a spot where obtaining help might lead to certain of his less-shining qualities being brought to light, even less so.”

“I see. Yet more reason not to go to MAGI. What was taken?”

“I hesitate to say that anything he does is strictly illegal ... but you know as well as I that our arts themselves can verge into the morally ambiguous at best ... and this can sometimes lead to habits that the majority of the heroing community might ...”

He stopped her with one upraised hand. She paused, lifting an eyebrow in query.

“Therese, my godfather's a three-hundred year old necromancer, and my power came from blood rituals. I'm not one to quibble over morally gray areas.”

“Not in magic, no ... but some of this crosses over into areas that could be seen as ...” She expelled a breath through clenched teeth. “Botheration, I'll just spit it out.”

“Please.”

“Warlocke has always had a fondness for surrounding himself with admirers. Not apprentices per se, but assistants, followers, disciples if you will. And he has a particular fondness for … fair youths and comely maidens.”

“Mm-hmm ...”

“He keeps several of them at each of his residences, busies them with research and all the assorted scut-work of any apprentice. Teaches them a bit, yes, but he is not one to take pride in the accomplishments of his students. Any of them that prove to be too clever, ambitious, or gods-forbid actually talented and powerful, he tends to dismiss.”

“Surrounding himself with low-powered sycophants so that he can play Lord of the Manor, eh?”

“Small step removed from setting himself up as a cult leader, unfortunately, yes. That, though, is a bit beside the point. When the Circle broke into his house, they stole several important grimoires, killed one of his followers, wounded another, and abducted four others.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” He looked at her, steadily. “Therese, I need to ask this, and you know it. Which concerned him more? Which did he ask about first?”

Worldly-wise far beyond his years, this one. “Oh, the books, obviously,” she said, as he must have expected she would. He sighed. She went on. “And what concerned him most about his young charges was not so much their safety, but the possible damage to his reputation.”

At that, after a wordless pause, Ewige Nacht spoke in a calm, conversational tone. “You know, I think I've just discovered a new talent for loathing that I never knew I had.”

“I think, yes, I think you understand,” she said.

“My feelings aside,” he said, and to demonstrate shook them aside with a vigorous motion of his hooded head, “we have to help those four apprentices.”

“Because it would not do to let them suffer or be abandoned to whatever fate the Circle might have planned for them.”

“Exactly. I've been where they are. I would wish that on no one. And if I can recover the grimoires, I'll consider returning them to him, as well.”

She inclined her head, silently agreeing that he with his history would surely know as well as anyone, if not better. “Yet at the same time, you can see the other problems this all carries with it.”

“Because the actions that ... that ... ugh! Mu'dak!” He swore, nearly spat. “He's bringing dishonor down on all of us.”

“Whether he has committed any crimes or not, whether there is proof of such or not, makes no difference ... it is unsavory, and does reflect badly no matter what.”

“He's skirting legality, he's violating the tenets of the master/apprentice bond, he's fostering an atmosphere of shame and resentment ... exactly. Unsavory to say the least.”

“Yes ... yes, I know,” Therese said. “Which then would bring our fellow heroes to, and not unreasonably, want to know why we've allowed it to continue.”

“Therese, for the sake of those four, and because you're the one asking, I will do everything in my power to find them and return them.” His eyes narrowed, and the eldritch flame within them brightened to a dangerous degree. “Then, believe me, I'll have some questions of my own.”

“Understood,” she said. “And I would not try and dissuade you.”

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I'll gladly accept any information you may have on the grimoires, the youth stolen, everything.”

“What follows, though, is that even if I can trace them and find them, it will be dangerous.”

“Which is more dangerous, allowing the Circle to complete their ritual, and -- at the least -- empower new stones and gain four new bodies, or use the dark gifts I have to keep the apprentices from that fate?”

“Capable as you are, to undertake this alone would be insane ... but where else to seek help, who to ask, what to tell them ...”

“I ... will speak with my associates. With my allies. I ...” He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, their fire gone. “... I will tell them only what they need to know to help me rescue the four youths.”

She knew how difficult that was for him, even this small dishonesty by omission. Knew what it had cost him to make such a pledge, and what it would cost him to keep it. “You know them better than I, and so I leave all of that in your hands,” she said.

“We'll get them back. We'll save them.”

“Thank you, Gregory.”

“You're welcome, Therese.”

“I had a sense that you would feel that way ... the grimoires are bad enough to have fallen into the Circle's possession, but those young ones ...”

He interrupted her with a cold hard strength in his voice, and his anger stirred the astral space around them with something that was the bitter metallic taste of bitten foil. “I will tell you this, however: Warlocke is banned from Paragon City. I don't care if I have to take it to Conclave, I won't have him here. I'd rather turn the city over to the Banished Pantheon.”

“I don't think you would have to argue very strenuously with the ranking mages, no,” she said. “There are probably several clerks or underlings at MAGI or among the Midnighters who were once among his followers.”

“Thank you -- and I do mean that -- for trusting me with this information. You realize, of course, that this opens another, even more horrifying question.”

“Which is?” Therese asked.

“With all of the 'failed' apprentices, why haven't any of them come forward? Do they even remember? Are they even capable?”

“Come forward with what proof?” She heard the hollow despair in her tone, saw it emanating out around her in tendrils and shimmers, was powerless to change it. “So many of them young, impressionable ... often with no family, few close friends ... vulnerable children, alone in the world ... easily swayed by a powerful, manipulative man ... nothing new in the world there, oh, no.”

“Not even proof, Therese, but think about this: until you told me about this, there wasn't even a whisper on the aether about what's been going on.”

“No, I don't suppose there was,” she said.

“And that makes me wonder just what level of manipulation this powerful man has been using.”

“Perhaps each thought he or she was the only one ... perhaps in only a few cases was there ever anything truly untoward going on ... perhaps there was shame, perhaps fear of what might happen ...”

“I could be wrong -- I pray I am -- but when someone's more concerned over grimoires than human souls, that sounds to me like someone who'd be willing to go to almost any length to protect his secrets,” he said.

“You mean controls? Memory charms? That sort of thing?”

“Yes. Controls, memory charms, bindings, or any combination thereof. Therese, apprentices talk. To each other, to the apprentices of other mages, to their spouses and friends ... and none of Warlocke's apprentices from any of his homes has come forward to complain? None of them felt any chagrin or shame at their dismissal? None of them felt wronged enough to even speak to another mage or apprentice about it? I cry poppycock.

“So many of them have been ... untalented ... there at the fringes, the periphery of magic ... wanting so much to be involved with that world even to some small degree ... they might have deemed anything else an acceptable part of the bargain. Those that did prove talented, or too clever or ambitious, he never kept long under his tutelage.”

“Yes. Anything else. It could play out as you suggest. As I said, I hope it does. But once I find these apprentices, I'm going to be looking into Warlocke more closely.”

“I do not know, Gregory.” She looked down, then sighed, and met his gaze again. “I can only speak for my own time among them, and that was many years ago.”

He arched an eyebrow. “If you'd rather not speak of it, I will not press you …”

“Yes, I was one of Warlocke's followers,” she said. Her fingertips grazed the cool smooth surface of the Eye of Sharuth upon her brow. “Before I came into this my inheritance. I was, as most of them have been, young and adrift, seeking something, knowledge, some greater mysteries and meanings. I read, I dabbled with all the foolish things that foolish young people should know better than to dabble with.”

Ewige Nacht smiled a small, rueful smile. “I understand that.”

“I thought you might ... after all, had your life gone differently and you'd not gained such powers ... “

“I'd probably be an angsty, emo teen writing horrible poetry about how much my rich life sucked,” he said, with a harsh laugh.

“But it is no real wonder why Anton was even less cordial to you than he is to most.”

“Because I had power of my own?”

She nodded. “Otherwise, you might have been very much his type, you see.”

“Young, questioning, powerless.”

“Not much in the way of family ties ... though I daresay once he found out who your godfather is, he would have backed off in a hurry whether you had power or not ...”

His mouth curved with a grin despite himself. “I can appreciate that. Michael can be ... a little intimidating.”

“To say the least.”

“For whatever it's worth,” he said, touching her gloved hand again, “I'm glad you came into your inheritance, and into your own power. You're a force to be reckoned with, and a worker I can respect.”

“I am glad of it as well, and for myself ...” She shrugged. “I was young, I was unsure of so many things ... but my memory is unclouded, my mind is clear.”

He nodded, and let the past go. “Well, let's pray it's so for all of the others. For now, though, let's worry about those four taken. The one injured, are they recovering? And the one dead, was there any family to notify?”

“The injured boy will be all right, yes,” she said.

Recalling a bruised and bloodied face, eyes glazed with pain and horror as he told her his tale in broken, tremulous phrases. His fingers clutching at her sleeve while she worked her spells of healing, and his begging of her to not worry about him, he’d be fine, to help Hannah, why wasn’t anyone helping Hannah?

“Wonderful. That's good news, at least.”

“The one that died was a runaway; I plan to try and find her family.”

Hannah, of course, had been beyond the help of any healing. The only comfort Therese could find in the girl’s fate was to know that it had at least been quick. That was some manner of mercy. It had been quick, the death-magic, and in all likelihood she had never known what happened.

“If I can help in any way, please let me know,” Ewige Nacht said.

“I shall, though finding the other four is of the most importance.”

“Please let me know what you have on the others. I'll start gathering my team.”

“I have their names, and what little the injured friend was able to tell me,” she said. “More runaways, orphans, estranged rebels, street children ...”

“Ahhhhh,” he sighed, understanding. “More and more I'm determined never to take on an apprentice of my own.”

“Yet it can be for the best, it can go well. Think of Sean.”

“How can I not?” He found a smile. “That ... to me, that's what magic can and should be used for. Betterment.”

“I couldn't agree more. And I cannot say how relieved I am to have your help in this.

“It truly is my pleasure to help.”

“Thank you. Being hobbled by politics, egos, and petty jurisdictional bickering while those young lives hang in the balance ...”

“It won't happen. They're mine now. They'll be saved.”

“I'll send Donato with a list, names and descriptions, whatever else I can gather,” she said. “If you have access to a message-stone you could attune to my sigil for this, I can let you know what my trace spell turns up.”

“Thank you. I'll send Goethe with one as soon as I'm back in my body. And feel free to call Goethe if you need to speak with me immediately.”

“Excellent.”

“For now, Therese, be well. I'll send Goethe, and see what I can ... ahhh ... dig up.”

She clasped his hand again, then released it, and let herself draw back toward the tether of her mystic umbilicus. Her perceptions showed her that Ewige Nacht was doing likewise. The astral plane spun in glorious flavors of perfumed melody around her, then came the sensation of falling, of whirring backwards through warm weightless nothing.

Her body took in a sharp gasp. Sensation returned with a rush and a tingle. And there, on the couch in her chamber, Therese Ferrau opened her eyes.

**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****

Within the astral realm, again …


Ms. Fortune: Gregory. *nod* Thank you.

Ewige Nacht: Therese. *nods* You're welcome. I ... have the results of my search. Rick and Selena are safe. They have been rescued, and Rick at least has no wishes to deal with magic again. Selena, however, was devastated that Warlocke made no effort to rescue them.

Ms. Fortune: I was able to mark some of your progress through the message stone, though not in any detail ... again, I cannot thank you enough for undertaking this difficult matter.

Ewige Nacht: Three of the grimoires were recovered. Brandon is dead.

Ms. Fortune: *moment of eyes-closed silence*

Ewige Nacht: The mages made the apprentices read the Grimoire Phantomagique.

Ms. Fortune: *low hiss* I feared as much ... how bad was it?

Ewige Nacht: Valerie now contains the grimoire within her. All that remains of the physical tome is ash and scraps of binding.

Ms. Fortune: And she survived?

Ewige Nacht: Yes. She's disoriented, dazed, and suffused with power, with no knowledge whatsoever of how to use or contain it. But she lives. *pause* Do you know what Rick told me? Warlocke informed him that he'd never manage to do learn anything other card tricks.

Ms. Fortune: *pained sigh* The power Phantomagique within an untrained girl ... thank the gods you retrieved her from the Circle before they could do anything permanent.

Ewige Nacht: I took responsibility for taking care of Brandon’s corpse.

Ms. Fortune: As with so many of them, there's little in the way of next-of-kin to contact ... so, again, thank you for that. And, well, what Rick told you was probably true enough. Warlocke preferred an audience of admirers and servants more than true apprentices.

Ewige Nacht: And now we have decisions to make. How do we address the issue of Valerie's power, and how do we address the information the apprentices have? And how do we determine how the Circle brought down his warding scheme?

Ms. Fortune: In all honesty, if she is now empowered, there's no way he would take her back even if she wished to go. He'd cut her loose in no time, on some pretext or another.

Ewige Nacht: I know. Which means .. *sigh*

Ms. Fortune: The normal recourse would be to turn her over to MAGI and associated authorities.

Ewige Nacht: I'll take her apprentice-bond, then. I've a good grasp of soul magic, and I know better than most what the Circle's capable of. We can't turn her over to MAGI, because that might embarrass his high-and-mightiness. And, frankly, they're more likely to lose control over her powers.

Ms. Fortune: If she's even willing.

Ewige Nacht: True, if she's willing. She may go her own way. And may all the dark Gods help us if that's her choice.

Ms. Fortune: Indeed, for that path is dangerous in and of itself, even guided. Further, she's, what, sixteen?

Ewige Nacht: I believe so, yes.

Ms. Fortune: Sixteen and an orphan, so, Child Welfare ... *troubled sigh*

Ewige Nacht: Oh, Gods.

Ms. Fortune: I believe Anton took her from a state home to start with.

Ewige Nacht: So ... we need to get her apprenticed, emancipated, set up a guardian ... When you say 'took her', do you mean adopted, or ... or just 'took'?

Ms. Fortune: Not 'stole' or anything along those lines ... fostered would be a closer word.

Ewige Nacht: Then he'd still be listed as her foster guardian, at least in theory.

Ms. Fortune: Most likely, yes.

Ewige Nacht: So how do you suggest we proceed?

Ms. Fortune: *grim look* I assure you though, getting him to relinquish those responsibilities will prove no difficulty.

Ewige Nacht: As you noted, he'll want nothing to do with her.

Ms. Fortune: However, the fact of the matter remains, she's a minor.

Ewige Nacht: And, frankly, he should HAVE nothing to do with ANY apprentices.

Ms. Fortune: Under normal circumstances, if the system in Paragon functions as it does in New York, she'd be assigned some guardian or social caseworker. Perhaps sent to a group home or other facility.

Ewige Nacht: From what I'm led to understand, that's the case. At her age, and because she's been an apprentice, it'd likely be a group home run jointly by the City and by MAGI.

Ms. Fortune: Yet these are not, as WE know, quite normal circumstances ... Gods, that poor child. You've seen her, I have not ... how dangerous is she?

Ewige Nacht: She ... honestly, I couldn't tell you. She's crackling with the energies of the Grimoire, and she was weeping black tears, according to her friend Selena. Her aura's got the faintest hint of what she once was, but it's been subsumed by the unholy power of the Phantomagique.

Ms. Fortune: Very unlikely then that it could be separated from her, not without costing her her life. It'll be bound now all throughout her life force and essence.

Ewige Nacht: Aye. So what do you suggest? We could always try to force Warlocke to live up to his responsibilities as a mentor and Master.

Ms. Fortune: *arches one brow* True, but some of that depends again on her willingness to go back.

Ewige Nacht: I know. And perhaps it's wrong of me, but I rather hope she doesn't wish to.

Ms. Fortune: Even if she did, and even if he could be made to accept that charge ... I can only foresee disaster.

Ewige Nacht: Tell me, is his true name Narcissus? *shakes head* Sorry. Just ... astoundingly bitter right now.

Ms. Fortune: *rueful laugh* It may as well be. But you must know how someone of his type would be able to adhere to the letter of his charge while still finding myriad ways of punishing and making such an apprentice's life a living Hell.

Ewige Nacht: I know. And he would. I'm not upset at you, Therese, no matter how filthy this issue has made me feel, but ... *closes eyes* ... hearing my teammates say that they trusted me to lead them, that they trusted my word on what needed to be done ... It was all I could do not to scream at them for being too trusting, for accepting too readily ...

Ms. Fortune: For not demanding more answers, more explanations? The entire dark unsavory truth?

Ewige Nacht: No, for trusting me, and blindly accepting that I WAS telling the truth. And yet, I suppose that's what teammates do. We all hold our own dark secrets.

Ms. Fortune: It galls, yes. It galls terribly to deceive those you love and trust to defend something so shameful and abhorrent. This I do know, believe me.

Ewige Nacht: So, the first thing we need to do is ask her what she wants; then, we need to decide how to address her home life and her training.

Ms. Fortune: *gives him a sad, sober look* And assess what a potential threat she might present.

Ewige Nacht: *nods* Yes.

Ms. Fortune: We both know how MAGI is, how dedicated groups like the Legacy Chain are, for wanting to make sure powerful magics don't end up in the wrong hands.

Ewige Nacht: I ... I think I'd like to have either my godfather or someone you trust make the assessment.

Ms. Fortune: They may fail more often than they like to admit, but they succeed ... sometimes ... all too well.

Ewige Nacht: Sometimes they create the very monsters they claim to wish to put down, but as long as the monsters are on their side ...

Ms. Fortune: *nod* And sometimes there are "acceptable losses in the greater good" ...

Ewige Nacht: *winces* Yes. Yes, there are.

Ms. Fortune: Given his knowledge and expertise in a wide range of the arts, I would accept Michael Northwood's assessment before going further.

Ewige Nacht: And I know if Michael does it, and she's dangerous, he'll strip her soul out then and there. Painlessly.

Ms. Fortune: If she must be ... put down, then, yes. And he is not directly connected to the various politics involved.

Ewige Nacht: *grim smile* Now I just have to explain to him why I'm asking him to do this, and explain to his satisfaction why I did what I did. As he reminded me a few months ago, I'm not too old to go over his knee if he's upset.

Ms. Fortune: And then if worse comes to worst, we shall both be able to go before the High Conclave to explain how we turned the power Phantomagique over to a known ranking necromancer ... but so be it.

Ewige Nacht: *chuckles* Now watch. We find out god-pop's a contributing author or something. *shakes his head*

Ms. Fortune: Stranger things have happened. But yes, if he is willing, that would be a good next step.

Ewige Nacht: I'll talk to Michael and let him know what's happening, and what ... may need to be done. He'll likely be able to see her tomorrow. Until then, I'll stay with her, keep her calm, and see that she gets some food in her system. Rest, if she needs to. By my Name and Will, I'll hold responsibility for her until her judgment.

Ms. Fortune: Heard and Witnessed. And I, for my part, will do what I can on this end ... follow up with the other two you rescued as well as the survivor here.

Ewige Nacht: Thank you. Be well, Therese. I need to return to my body before she's out of the shower, and my wards just tingled.

Ms. Fortune: Call upon me as needed.

Ewige Nacht: I offer the same, my friend.

**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****

Before he could start, Val threw a question at him from where she sat tucked and ready in the corner.

She didn’t even care all that much about the answer. Cared more about his reaction to it. Get defensive? Be put off-balance by her going on the accusatory and offensive right out of the gate? What?

He paused, then smiled. A surprisingly genuine smile what with the long black coat, the chalky makeup, the dark rings of eyeliner. “No, Miss Xavierre, I'm not -- as you put it -- a spoiled, snotty, emo-boy know-it-all. At least I don't think so.”

Genuine smile, but he did sound like someone had taught a wolf how to talk … a wolf with a splintered bone caught in its throat. Low, eerie, raspy. Not, she was sure, a put-on voice. A … what had they called it? Affectation. No, he didn’t sound that way because he wanted to.

“I'm rich, as was my family, so I suppose some might say I was spoiled,” he went on. “And Ewige Nacht is known for being a goth, but that's as far as it goes, really.”

Val nodded, still watching him warily. Weighing her chances of getting past him if she had to. That part, maybe, not impossible. Sudden kick, catch him by surprise, and out of the room she’d go.

Out of the room and then what? Down the hall, fine. To the front door, okay. Through the wards that she could feel surrounding this place?

Not very damn likely.

“Would it be acceptable to you if I cast a small spell to remove the makeup and change into my street clothes?” he asked. “If you'd prefer, I can step out and change, and then come back.”

“It's fine; I've seen magic before,” she said.

He sighed softly. “I know. And all too recently, you saw some of the worst.” With a gesture and a flash, the elegant black garb became simple jeans and a shirt … the makeup vanished to leave a still-not-ordinary pallor … and though the ponytail drawn back from his sharp-featured face stayed otherwise the same, it went from dead-black to a dark brown.

“This is me,” he said, simply enough. “This is who Ewige is when he's not being Ewige.”

“Just a regular guy?”

A regular guy who worked out a lot … he was in better shape than Brandon had been, more as if he took it seriously while Brandon only wanted to look like an Abercrombie & Fitch model. She’d have to get him very by surprise if she did need to kick and run.

“Well, kind of.” He laughed a little. “I'm a mage, and something of a scholar. I've got some money, and I have a godfather who's a necromancer. So that part's not normal. The rest? Yeah. I ride motorcycles, and usually end up spending more money on fixing them than I did on purchasing them.”

“Bad driver?”

He grinned. “Not usually. I've been hit a couple of times, had a tire blow out at speed on the freeway once. Most of the time, though, I buy them in bad condition and spend my time restoring them. It's fun, and it's a chance to get my hands dirty doing something physical. I mean, magic's my life -- it ... pretty much has to be -- but I like to use my mind and my hands for more than just spellcasting.”

“Nice hobby; maybe you should talk to Rick.”

The grin faded. “I ... don't know that Rick would be too happy to speak with me about anything anymore. He indicated that he wants nothing to do with magic or mages. After what happened, I can't say that I blame him.”

“Oh ...” Val said. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Would you like a glass of water or a soda or something?”

She would, but … “The blonde woman, she said you found Selena, but Brandon didn't make it.”

Ewige Nacht closed his eyes and sighed again. “No, he didn't. And I'm so, so very sorry for that. I wish I'd been faster. Smarter. Figured things out sooner.”

“They got Hannah, too, at the house.”

“I know. Ms. Fortune told me. She's arranging Hannah's burial. I've taken the responsibility to handle Brandon's.”

“Devin survived?” she asked, though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer to that one.

“He did. It was touch and go, but he survived.”

Val nodded, absently. “A soda or something would be good, thanks.”

“Be right back, then.”

She stayed put while he was out of the room. Nice room. Much nicer than any she’d ever stayed in before. Bigger all by itself than the entire apartment she used to share with her mother.

He brought back not just sodas, but a plate of sandwiches. Val managed somehow not to leap like a stray dog, managed to even be halfway ladylike as she took one.

“Oh thanks again, god, starved, Circle fed us some kind of barley gruel ...” she groaned before taking a bite.

“Urgh,” he said, taking a sandwich and diet soda of his own before retreating to sit on the floor with his back braced to the wall by the door. “Yeah, I … yeah. I’ve had it.” He rubbed fitfully at the back of his neck. “So ... did you want to talk? I mean, about anything. What happened, how you're feeling, where you are, whether I'm really an arrogant prat? Anything.”

Half a sandwich later, Val said, “You seem okay. I'm figuring I must be in Paragon City.”

“Founders Falls, my apartment,” he said. “The wards should keep you safe, and there’s a spirit-woven dreamcatcher in here to make sure you don’t have any nightmares.” He indicated the hanging item, paused, and added, “I know I did, so I understand.”

Val nodded. “What happened ... yeah, you could tell me that ... how you got roped into this. Main thing, though?”

He looked at her. “Yes?”

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked. “Because if you are, I don't really give a damn about the rest of it.”

Another one designed to see his reaction, though the answer did matter to her quite a bit.

“Honestly, from where I sit, I'd rather not,” he said. “I think you're salvageable, and none of this is your fault.”

“Is it your call?”

“Not completely, but I have a say in it.” He paused and did … something … something involving the wards, she didn’t know what. Testing them, maybe. Reinforcing them. “I've ... been where you are. Kind of.”

“Didn't ask for this?”

“I got my powers from the Circle, too.”

“Didn't know what you were getting yourself into?”

“They shoved me into a soul-stripping ritual, and it kind of backfired on them. All of my powers came from that ritual. It took me months to control them, and I still fight them sometimes.”

Val tried not to shudder. The mages, their spells, magical energy curling and coiling around her like snakes… crawling over her, creeping through her …

His gaze and his voice dropped for a moment. “It would be so easy to let go, and let the darkness consume everything.” Then he glanced up at her. “But because I know you don't have to, I'm going to be pushing for you to survive.”

“They were going to kill me if they couldn't ... I don't even know what they wanted. Take it back?”

“The Circle would've, yes,” he said. “I've already told Ms. Fortune and my godfather -- a necromancer, and a soul mage -- that I'm willing to stand as your teacher. Michael wouldn't kill you for the book, but if he thought you were irredeemable, then yes. He would. Quickly and painlessly, if that's any consolation. I don't want to scare you, but you've been li ... you've been jerked around and been used enough.”

“Irredeemable?” Val echoed. “Like a coupon that expired?”

He snorted. “No, no. Like if you decide you want to, I don't know, go out and destroy all the mages and rip their souls to shreds for what they did.”

Val frowned at him. “So if I'm evil, the necromancer's going to kill me like a mad dog.”

“Basically. The whole 'using your powers for evil' kind of thing. For what it's worth, I don't think he will.”

“What's evil, then? Who says?”

“In a sense, you do. It's like ... how do I put this ... okay, let's say you see a bracelet you really want, okay? Good would be purchasing the bracelet. Or trying to find it on sale. Bad would be stealing the bracelet. Evil would be stealing the bracelet, killing the shopkeeper, and burning the building.”

“Okay,” Val said.

“We've all got darkness in us. Even angels. It's the degree we let that darkness influence us that makes us evil.” He glanced away again, as if lost in thought for a moment, then sat up cross-legged. “You don't strike me as the kind of person who'd revel in someone else's pain and misery. I mean, unless I’m reading you completely wrong.”

“Depends on the someone,” she said.

“Like the Circle, or ...” He paused, lips tightening. “… someone.”

“I wouldn't go out of my way to hurt people for kicks, if that's what you mean.” Val shifted in the chair, leaned forward some. “But you've got to admit, when someone has ... basically ... nothing ... to go from that to having, well, real power? If that's what I've got?”

“It is. It's real power.”

“That's got to be kind of tempting to almost anybody.”

“And yeah, the temptation to use it is incredible.” Ewige Nacht smiled and shrugged. “I know.”

She gestured around the room, its lavish furnishings unmistakable even in shadow. “I've seen the way the other half lives, you know?”

“Heh. Yeah, but this isn't from magic. This is because of family money. But I know what you mean.”

“Money's just another kind of power, they go together.”

“That's true. But yes, this is the sort of thing that you'll be able to hold for yourself.”

“It's the people with one or the other, or both, that do pretty damn good for themselves.”

“The only question is whether they do good for themselves at the expense of others.”

“What kind of a question is that?” she asked, almost gaping at him. How rich and sheltered did someone have to be to actually believe …?

“Good example: I have money, but a good amount of it goes to charities, research, and educational projects. And my magic? Yeah, I'm powerful, but I use that to help other mages learn their limits, and to protect people who need help. Look at someone like ... oh ... Mr. Bokor in the Rogue Isles. He's as rich as I am, if not richer, and he's a powerful necromancer. His power is twisted toward using others, killing them and then reanimating their corpses. He gets his money from the dead, and uses it to fund criminal enterprises. So he's done well for himself at the expense of others.”

“He buys and sells people, he walks all over them, uses them, yeah, I know that story.”

She tipped her head to look at him. “Ever think maybe you're the weird one?

His mouth twisted with a smile. “Every damn day. But I have to believe that there's some level of good in almost every person.”

“Why?” demanded Val.

“Because if I don't -- if I give into the despair and really become emo and uncaring -- then the Circle wins, and I'll lose my soul. I've already made Michael -- my godfather -- promise to take me down if I let that happen. Because if I let this power, this black ritual magic, loose -- if it's released unchecked -- then I'll be opening a portal to Hell on Earth, and releasing Oranbegan spirits into our realm. That’s when I become irredeemable.”

“Isn't it screwed up enough on its own?”

Nodding, he pulled the band from his hair and rubbed his hands through it. “Oh yeah. Thoroughly. It's screwed up to a level of screwed-upedness that I don't even like to contemplate.”

She was relieved to hear him say so, relieved to see that okay, he wasn’t that sheltered after all. There was something seriously wrong with the notion of a goth Pollyanna.

“But hey, it's what I've learned to deal with,” he continued. “I think you can deal with it, too. That's why I don't want to see you killed. Because I have faith that you'll be able to control it. And because enough people have already died thanks to a power-hungry lunatic.”

“Just funny, you know, in a not-funny way ...” Val reached for another sandwich.

“How so?”

“Like I said, I didn't ask for this, I didn't go playing with Ouija boards or making deals with the devil or any of that crap ...”

“Wrong place, wrong time, wrong crowd.”

“My whole life's been up to other people to decide what to do with me, now here I end up with real power for once and that’s when they have to decide if I need to be executed. Right when I might even be able to do something about it, fight back for once, but if I did ...” She laughed, bitterly, envisioning it.

“Fight back for once?” he asked. Serious.

“You wouldn't understand.”

“I'm not trying to challenge you, Valerie, but try me. Make me understand. I ... if this is about ...”

“Look at the way you live,” she said. “Family money?”

He nodded.

“Family and money are two things I don't have,” she said. “Even when I had family, hell, we didn't have money anyway.”

“So how does that play into your statement of fighting back?”

“Because I ... I wouldn't have to go back, back to the state home, back to the system, wherever.”

“You don't have to. I already offered to be your mentor, to help you learn how to harness your power. Even if you lose the power in the future, and I don't think you will, that's a bond that's as sacred as any held by a deity.”

“Why would you do that? I still don't even know how you got dragged into this ... you and Ms. Fortune ... how did it end up your problem?”

Ewige Nacht pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'm going to say something, and I'm sorry if it comes out as harsh.”

“Let me guess,” Val cut in. “You got drafted to cover his ass.”

“Yes and no. Yes, that's part of it.”

“Like with politicians and priests.”

“Me, specifically, because Ms. Fortune trusts me, and because you were all brought to Paragon City. And I'm involved because I've called conclave to ensure that Warlocke never sets foot in Paragon City. I'm in the process of drafting a petition to remove his right to hold apprentice bonds. I hold him in slightly less esteem than I hold Bokor.”

She might not have understood all of that, but … “He's really not going to like you now.”

“Oh, that was sealed when I sent Goethe to advise him that the other grimoires were remaining in Paragon City.”

“You're keeping his books?” Her eyebrows rose.

“It was either that, or when I called him a two-faced power-hungry, conscienceless bastard with no regard for an apprentice/mentor bond and less integrity than a Carnival Madame.”

“That'd do it too,” Val said, impressed, and more than half wishing she’d been there to see the look on his face.

“And no, I'm not keeping them. They're in a MAGI vault, just waiting for him to come to Paragon City and pick them up.”

Which he’d just said he’d taken steps to ensure Warlocke wouldn’t be able to do …

“So ... she, Ms. Fortune, she's covering his ass ... and called in some favors on you,” Val said.

“I'm assuming there's more to it on her end than that, but I'm not privy to everything she said.” His eyes darkened with something hidden and troubled, something she could tell he wasn’t going to talk about and didn’t even like to have to think about. “But yes. In a nutshell.”

“Makes everybody in the biz look bad, bigshot wizard getting robbed like that.”

“Frankly, one thing that Ms. Fortune and I agreed on was that the books were a minor inconvenience,” he said. “The important thing was rescuing those of you who were taken.”

“So now there's us … Rick, Selena, Devin and me ... loose ends.”

“Do not ever think that,” he said, sudden sharpness in his voice. “I don't care what that reprehensible excuse for a hedge wizard said, but you -- all of you -- were and are infinitely more precious than any tome.”

“Until we're irredeemable, right?” Val shot back. “So don't yell at me about it.”

He sighed. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ... I just ... You're right. I shouldn't be upset at you for saying that. I'm sorry. I was in the wrong. It's just this whole situation is so wrong. You shouldn't be having to deal with this. If he'd taken his responsibilities seriously, none of this would've happened. You'd be learning, and you'd be safe. Or at least as safe as any practitioner is. Seeing people lose their lives, and for what? For a couple of magic tomes?”

“Learning ... safe ...” She could only repeat the words, and look at him with disbelief.

“Yes. The apprentice/mentor or apprentice/master bond exists because you're teaching some of the most wonderful, beautiful things in existence to someone else. Not just magic, but the sum of your knowledge. You're sharing on a level of psychological and metaphysical intimacy greater than many people experience in their entire lives.”

Her appetite churned into a sick feeling she was sure showed on her face. She set down the uneaten part of her sandwich. “Yeah, sure, that's exactly what it is.”

“You're helping to guide someone into their ... into ...” He faltered.

“Maybe in your world, goth-boy.”

“Oh. Oh no.” His face had gone even paler as he studied her, as it sank in.

“Didn't they tell you none of us exactly have any magical talent?” Val asked.

“Yes. And that doesn't matter. You could still be trained as a ritualist. You could be trained as a theorist. You could be trained as a thaumaturge. For Hel's sake, you could be trained in potions and unguents.”

“Oh we helped with rituals and all that, sure.” She picked up her soda, set it down without a sip, knowing that it wouldn’t wash the bad taste from her mouth.

“There are countless fields that don't require you to be innately magical. That's why you could help with the rituals: they don't require your own magic: the magic comes from the ritual itself.” He sounded almost pleading, like he wished he could escape into denial but wasn’t fooling anybody, even himself.

“Look, I'm just saying that if ... that we ... look, we weren't what you'd call real apprentices, okay?” Val said.

“That's part -- and only part -- of why I'm so disgusted with him right now.”

“So when you talk about him taking his responsibilities seriously, if he had or if he did, I don't think any of this would have happened. But I think you know that, you got that far without me needing to tell you.”

“I also know that there were certain other liberties that were taken with other people's emotional and physical state that went well beyond the bounds of what's appropriate in that relationship.”

“I don't even know if this bond thing you talk about is ... were we supposed to sign something, or what?”

He scrunched his eyes shut and muttered under his breath. Some of the words were English, others weren’t, but Val had a fairly good idea they all fit in the same category.

“Yes, you were,” he said after that. “The fact that you didn't meant that you weren't ever actually under any of his wards, or under his protection.”

“Well so what does that mean, then?”

“Basically, had a ritual you were assisting with backfired, the wards would've protected him, and the rest of you ... may well have gone up like candles.”

“Oh ...” She rolled it around in her head. “That would suck.”

“Yeah. Big time.”

“So ... you mean for instance ... the times he'd have us stationing the points of a pentacle and told us it was perfectly safe ...”

“He was lying, yes.”

“Perfectly safe for him.”

“Correct,” Ewige Nacht said. “But for the anchors, who have arguably the most dangerous job of all, there was no protection.” She didn’t think she had ever literally heard someone grinding his teeth before. He took a few seconds to collect himself. “Just a moment, please.”

“Sure,” Val said.

He whispered a long hissing string of syllables, and the smoky form of a dark servant appeared. Val watched with the same sense of awe and envy she always got when she observed real magic in action … but this time it was tinged with something else … possibility? Anticipation? Expectation?

What if she could learn to do something like that? What if she, Valerie Xavierre, could have that kind of power?

Ewige Nacht murmured instructions, the servant glided out, and returned with a sheaf of papers.

“Here,” he said, handing them to Val. “This is a standard apprentice/mentor contract. About fifteen pages of boilerplate that hasn't changed since the 1630s, and then the individual mage's provisos.”

“Yeah …” she said as she looked it over. “Yeah, I never saw anything like this.”

“You can keep that, if you want. If things go well, and if you decide you'd like to take me up on my offer, that's the contract I'd have you sign. I've already signed it. It spells out your duties as an apprentice, and my duties as a mentor. If you'd rather have another mage as a mentor, that's fine, too.”

“Still haven't told me why you'd do that,” she said, holding onto the stack of pages. Waiting for the catch, because people didn’t just make offers like this out of the kindness of their hearts, that wasn’t the way the world worked.

“Because I've been where you are,” he said. “I survived the Circle, so I'm probably one of the few mages who's been almost exactly where you are. Also, I know how easy it is to go dark, and I'm hoping to help you deal with that.”

She supposed he had a valid point there.

He hesitated, looked down. “Some of it may be guilt. I couldn't save Brandon, but maybe I can help save you.”

But then, so had the social workers who’d told her that they knew exactly what she must be going through … the counselors who didn’t want to see another good kid lost to the streets …

“Then, too, there's the fact that the magical community has failed you -- you, and countless others -- by letting Warlocke get away with his chicanery. Frankly, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do the right thing and try to help someone he's wronged.”

The thing was, from him, it didn’t just sound sincere. He wasn’t someone with a caseload of two hundred runaways, orphans and juvies to find placement for. He was …

“I ... I don't know ...” she said, shoving the rest of it aside for what was the most important part. “I say yes, I sign this, it means I don't have to go back to the state home?”

“Correct. It means that you're bound to me for a minimum of two years. The average bond is five, but I figured I'd start with a minimum time frame so I didn't freak you out.”

“And what? You'd be my legal guardian?” She couldn’t keep the skepticism from her tone. “You're ... what, eighteen, nineteen tops?”

“In that time, you'd live here, or I'd be responsible for finding you an apartment. You'd get a living stipend, and ... ah ... yeah.” He blushed. A blush against that pallor was visible even in the room’s shadows He damn near glowed like a jack-o-lantern. “Just eighteen. Emancipated minor. But classified as a Master, so from a magical standpoint, I qualify as a guardian.”

She looked at him, not sure what to say about some kind of system that would give custody of a sixteen-year-old girl to an eighteen-year-old guy …

“But yeah, you wouldn't have to go back to the state home, and you'd never have to deal with Warlocke again,” he said, regaining his composure. “Until and unless you wanted to, after your bond had ended. One of my provisos is that you have no contact with him while you're under the bond.”

“Think I'd want to?” she asked, grimacing.

“No, but it also means that -- if he tries to contact you -- I'm legally entitled to kick his fu-- ... furry butt. You'd be my first apprentice, but I take my responsibilities seriously. You would be under my protection, physically and magically, and anyone trying to hurt you would have to get through my wards, my servants, and me.”

“I don't think they'd want me back there even if I wanted to go,” she said.

“If you'll excuse me for being bitter, of course not. You have power.”

“I've heard how it was with some of the others before ... different for Devin, maybe, his power is ...” She stopped herself. “But, yeah.”

“His power is ... ?”

“I'm not sure how to explain it, or even if I should.”

“Okay.”

“Me, though ... this ... whatever it is ...”

“It's soul magic.”

“Unless he says since the book was his and it came from the book, then --”

“No. That will not happen.” His voice stern, resolute.

“Like with the Circle, they thought they could get it back out,” Val persisted.

“The Circle is … the Circle. If he tries to take that route, I'll force him to explain himself in conclave.”

“Uh, yeah, no offense but that won't be a hell of a lot of comfort to me if he kills me trying,” she said. “Okay, so I may not have the greatest life, but damn it, it's mine and I want to hang onto it.”

“Valerie, if you're my apprentice, you'll be as heavily warded as I am, and you'll also be carrying around protective charms that should stop anything short of a magical nuke. That's what I meant about mages and their apprentices. You share the same level of protection. Basically, the only way your protection would drop would be if mine did; and the only way mine would drop would be if I'm dead.”

“Why are you telling me all this before they decide what to do with me?” She riffled the stack of pages. “I should sign the thing now and then if they do want to eliminate me ...”

“Yes,” he said. “Then they'd have to go through me.”

“Are you insane?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Damn it, you didn't deserve this, and I'm not going to let someone else die when I can stop it! I think you'll be okay even without the contract. I just ... I just wanted you to know you have a choice.”

“It's crazy for you to do this, put your ass on the line for a total stranger ... you don't owe me a damn thing ...”

“Valerie, I'm a mage. I'm human. And I can help.”

“... but I'll do it, I'll sign that, because I'm selfish enough to want to grab every chance I can at getting out of this alive!”

“Remember earlier, when we were talking about how what you did mattered more than where you're from? Or where your power originated?”

She nodded.

“This is why I do what I do. Sure, it may be insane, and yes, you're a stranger, but you're young, you're frightened, you're in a place you didn't ask to be, and I can help. It's not a perfect situation for either of us, but it'll help us both. You, it'll keep alive, and it'll get you the training you need, and the help you deserve. And me, it'll help me to refocus on humanity, and to go through the steps to hone my own knowledge. Maybe, with our shared Circle energies, it'll help each of us heal a little bit.”

She nodded again.

“Before you sign, I want you to read the whole contract. Every page, every word.”

“Okay. I will. I'll read the whole thing.”

“If you want to make changes, jot them down and initial them. If I agree, I'll counter-initial, and it'll be good. We'll file it before we go to see Michael tomorrow. Sound fair?”

“Yeah. Well, no, sounds like I'm getting a good deal and you're sticking your neck out ... but I can be okay with that.”

He laughed. “Now I just have to figure out how to explain all of this to where I keep my neck.”

“I won't have to call you Master, will I?” she asked, scanning the forms.

“Oh, Gods, no.” He considered. “Well, if we go to a formal conclave, then yeah. But then, I'd be required to call any of the other senior mages Master, as well. It's a form of respect.”

“That’s okay, then.”

“Some mages insist on it in the contract, but that's just ... weird. You can call me Greg. Or Gregory. Or Ewige.”

“Valerie, or Val. Not, you know, Minion or something, though, okay?”

“Well, there we go. But if you screw up, I'm entitled to roll my eyes and sigh, ‘Apprentices!’ I think that's article eighty-two.”

“Yeah then I definitely didn't sign one of these before ...”

He laughed again. “Valerie, we'll get through this. You'll survive, and you'll be able to find your center with the magic. Even if you haven't had reason to trust anyone or anything else before, I give you my word that I'll do everything in my power to get you what you need.”

“And ... I should probably say thanks for getting me out of there ... so, thanks.”

“You're welcome. I'm glad you came through okay. Now finish those sandwiches, get some rest. Leave the paperwork until morning. I’m going to catch a quick shower, let Ms. Fortune and Ammy know I have an apprentice, and then crash.”

She smiled a little. “How good to I have to get before I can wear one of those fancy cloaks?” Thinking of Ms. Fortune, of that thick heavy cloak, arcane and mysterious.

He grinned. “That depends. If you agree to stay with black, then you can get one when we go clothes shopping tomorrow, after we meet with Michael.”

“I can do that.”

“After all, we have to keep you looking the part of a spoiled, snotty, emo-grrrrl know-it-all, right?”

“I'll try,” she said, laughing herself now, “but no guarantees.”

**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****

There were no nightmares, and when she woke, it was to discover that she was still in the comfortable bed. Still in the spacious room. Still in the apartment with its enclosing barriers of magical wards. Undisturbed, and better-rested than she’d been in …

In years. Since before her mother got sick.

Valerie got out of bed, freshened up in the bathroom, and parted the drapes. The window showed a view of canals, arching bridges, pedestrian walkways, and ornamental shrubs far below. A sailboat went by, its shadow rippling across the water. Morning light fell through the glass, onto her healed skin, warming her.

She retreated to the chair in the corner and read through the contract Ewige Nacht had given her. Fifteen pages, a lot of it legal-ese, loaded with magical jargon, but she got the gist of it. No sinister clauses hiding in the fine print. Nothing that made her skin crawl. It didn’t require signing in blood.

Apprenticeship. True apprenticeship, not slave labor or indentured servitude or whatever the hell arrangement it was they’d had with Warlocke.

Her chance to get away from all that. To have power of her own, to learn to use it. An actual future.

Assuming she lived through this evaluation … or interrogation … or whatever it turned out to be.

Her best chance. Maybe her only chance.

She signed it. Then, carrying the stack of pages, cautiously made her way out into the hall. Arriving here had been a fog, a blur. Now she saw that the rest of the furnishings were equally grand.

She’d met a few other emancipated minors before, but damn. This was no kid getting himself classified as adult so he could take care of half a dozen younger sibs in some crappy tenement because the parents were out of the picture for one reason or another.

The enticing aromas of coffee and bacon led her to the kitchen, which was enough to make her stumble over her own feet with envy.

The Riverside house had a kitchen worthy of a manor, made for entertaining, for showing off, for hosting lavish parties. It was state-of-the-art, but operating-room sterile, cold, everything kept at a spotless shine.

Ewige Nacht’s kitchen had all the gadgets, was spacious and open, but much friendlier. A warm place. The kind of room that, when he hosted parties, would be where half the guests eventually congregated, laughing and talking, enjoying themselves.

“Good morning,” he said, turning from the stove. Not the goth darkmage now, just in regular clothes again. “Coffee?”

She nodded and slid onto a high stool at the breakfast bar. “This is a great kitchen.”

“Do you cook?”

“When I can.” She paused to accept the mug he brought her, then figured it was all right to elaborate a bit more. “My mother was a chef. She worked at The Bistro on Fifty-Third, which she liked to say was a name both generic and pretentious.”

He chuckled. “I made breakfast, but now I’m worried.”

Val also laughed. “Don’t be. State home, remember? On the culinary scale, I think it fell somewhere between prison chow hall and military mess tent.”

“Oh that makes me feel better,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“As long as it’s not the Circle’s barley gruel --”

“Gods forbid!” He set a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of her. “But if it does turn out to be overdone and inedible, there’s some Pop-Tarts in that cupboard.”

“It’s fine, thanks,” she said, digging in.

“Tell you what … if today goes well, if this works out and you accept the apprenticeship … we can split the cooking duties.”

“I didn’t see anything about that in the contract. Should I write it in?”

“If you want.”

“I make a pretty good Eggs Benedict,” she offered. “The trick I learned from Mom was to use shredded, fried ham instead of a slab of it. That way, the hollandaise and the yolk can get to the biscuit, instead of running off the sides, pooling around it.”

They ate, discussed the contract, discussed his godfather. “We’ll be heading to his house in St. Martial as soon as we’re ready,” Ewige Nacht told her. “I should warn you, Michael can be … well, a little scary … I’ve known him all my life and sometimes he still scares the hell out of me … but as long as you’re honest, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Will you be there?”

“Not for the interview itself. He says I’m not allowed to. So, while you and he do that, I’ll go visit a friend.”

“A friend in the Rogue Isles?” she asked, grinning.

“Shades of grey, shades of grey,” he protested, with a grin of his own. “She’s a demon, true, a reformed Fury, but she’s a good person and a good friend. You’ll probably meet her soon enough.”

Val was tempted to ask how his conversations had gone with Ms. Fortune and the girl he’d referred to as Ammy – she hadn’t figured out who he meant until that morning, but then everything clicked into place and made sense – but decided she could save that until they knew what was going to happen next.

With breakfast eaten, coffee finished and dishes done, with the contract collected into a folder and the folder tucked into a case, it was time to go.

To go … to travel … by magic.

Despite having the possibility of her own execution hanging over her head, it was a thrill to watch him work the spells … to hear the words of magic, and feel the lines of force bend to his will …

She observed every step with intent interest and fascination. If she could learn to do that …

First, though, she had to survive this.

Then they were there

**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****

The girl held up fairly well, Michael Northwood thought, as they spent the next hour discussing the natures of good and evil, causality, morality, responsibility.

She was rough around the edges, hardly surprising given her underprivileged and disadvantaged background. Intelligent but less than well-educated, with the grit and tenacity that came from hardship.

Although she had clearly done some bad things in her young life – she’d lied, she’d stolen, she’d had her moments of not being a very nice person – she did not strike him as the evil, power-mad, revenge-hungry type. Her concerns were more to do with doing what she had to do in order to survive, and staying out of trouble, than with doing right for right’s own sake.

Guarded, this one. Wary. Quiet, as the poor lost lambs had said, but more as a way of playing close to the vest, doling out trust on a trial basis. Again, hardly surprising. They learned those lessons early and well in the orphanages, in the meatgrinder of the foster-care system. They learned those lessons so very well indeed that, for the most part, being taken in by a wealthy older man was a reprieve at any price.

Distaste roiled deep within him as he recalled his conversations with the spirits … Brandon, vain and handsome and shallow, viewing his relationship with Warlocke as something akin to what youthful pretty boys might have had with the likes of Oscar Wilde … Hannah, the designated virgin of the lot, for whenever spells or ritualistic purposes might call for such, for whenever the blood or hair of an untouched maiden might be required … both of them with their suspicions about what went on with the others, but beyond acknowledging Brandon and Selena as the ‘favorites,’ able to confirm little.

Having ascertained that this girl was unlikely to snap and attempt to assassinate Warlocke with a sharpened spike of demon’s bone, or shred his soul from his body no matter how many innocent lives she might ravage in the process, no matter how many cities she might engulf in darkest soulfire to get to him …

… which wasn’t to say that Michael himself wasn’t tempted to do those very things; wading through this filth even by proxy was enough to make him think murderous thoughts …

… which wasn’t to say that his godson might be tempted along those very lines, unused to as he was the depths to which humanity might sink; and in Gregory’s case colored also with the aspect of “there but for the grace of the gods …”

… however …

He settled back in his chair and gave the girl a gentle smile. “Ms. Xavierre, just a few more questions, and then we can take a short break to enjoy the delightful lunch Mrs. MacGregor has prepared for us.”

She nodded. And waited for him to ask his questions before she began volunteering any information.

“What, in your opinion, is the proper role of the Apprentice in a Master/Apprentice relationship?” Michael asked. “Not what you saw with Warlocke, but your thoughts and feelings.”

“I'm not sure ...”” she said, after a long moment’s consideration. “There's what I remember from books I've read, how apprentices are supposed to help, and learn.”

“Actually, that's the answer I was looking for,” he said. “Your role would be primarily to learn. Secondarily, you would begin to assist with magecraft.”

Her expression reiterated that while this ran counter to her experiences, it did align with what her expectations of how it should have been, in a world where not everyone was a using, self-serving bastard …

“As his apprentice, Gregory is responsible for you: this means not only your personal needs, but he is responsible for you,” Michael said. “Anything you do while you are his apprentice reflects on him.”

“I can understand that,” she said.

“That's why learning is so important: it will assist you in controlling the magic you're going to learn to know how to wield.” He offered another soft smile. “Assuming you don't mind the idea that I find you approximately as dangerous as any untrained mage with potential.”

A slight shrug told him she didn’t mind that at all; her attention was elsewhere. “It’s …” She frowned.

“Yes?”

“Well, if you take an art class and you can't draw, then you just can't draw, right? If you go out for sports, and you're no good, you might disappoint the coach and hurt yourself, or lose the game for the team.”

He nodded, encouraging. Sensing that he knew what she was trying to express, and pleased that she understood, even if she was having difficulty putting it into words.

“If you're learning to drive and you screw up, you could kill people, not just yourself but your teacher and anyone who happens to be in the way,” she continued. “This is all that put together, and more, isn't it?”

“An excellent assessment, Ms. Xavierre. Here's my question, then: are you ready to assume the responsibilities of an apprentice, and to learn to control your magics?”

Again, she paused to consider her reply. “I want to be ready. I don't know for sure if I am, but I want to be. I want to try.”

Satisfied, he murmured in ancient Greek. The wards shivered as he relaxed them. “Then I do believe you've passed the interview, and I can recommend to Gregory that he get the apprenticeship paperwork filed.”

The girl, for all her guardedness, looked startled. A that’s it? that’s all? look. “You do? I ... I'm okay?”

“I would say that you are, indeed, 'okay',” Michael said.

“I know this is a big deal ... that Ewige, and you and Ms. Fortune ... that you're all taking a big chance on me --”

“Ms. Xavierre, Gregory is taking the chance on you. His choices will not reflect on Ms. Fortune. And I ...” Here, he let the genteel and kindly demeanor slide away, revealing a humorless smile that bit like a winter’s wind. “... well, if Gregory is hurt through any of your actions, nothing in the world will hide you from me.”

“I told him he was sticking his neck out,” she said, uncowed. “It's like when they let someone out of prison, or the nuthouse, and then that person goes off and does something horrible ... he'd be the one who'd have to answer for it.”

Pleased by that as well, he chuckled. “Yes, well, that's just how he is.”

“I don't think that I'd go off and do something horrible, but ... I don't know. I might. He could be making a big mistake.”

“Yes, he could. But it's his mistake, as a mage, to make. It's your responsibility, as an apprentice, to see to it that you learn enough to prevent it from becoming a mistake.”

“Because this ... I didn't ask for this, I didn't try to get this power, make this happen ... but it could, it really could, be what changes everything.” She studied her hands, her brow furrowed. “My whole life.”

“It has, child, and it will continue to do so. And now I need to ask again, did you have any questions for me?”

“What can I do to make this work out?”

Michael moved from his chair to the settee near her, close enough to take her hand and pat it, not so close that he seemed to be moving in on her. “Learn. Listen. Observe. What is not said is as important as what is. Study everything. The scales on a butterfly's wing are as beautiful as a sunset, and as deadly as a scorpion fish. Don't be afraid to ask questions. As an apprentice, you're not only entitled to, you're encouraged to. Don't be afraid to make mistakes, as you will make mistakes.”

“Even stupid questions?”

“Even stupid questions. After all, what you may consider a stupid question may guide a train of thought onto a new track.”

“Even questions that might offend people and piss them off?”

“While I'd recommend that you ask your questions of your Master, yes, even questions that might offend people, and cause them to experience annoyance. It's how you learn.” He smiled. “And yes, that includes me. As Gregory's apprentice, you'll be joining him here at least once a month for dinner, and he may have me address some of your training in soul magics.”

“He's ... a nice guy? I can trust him? How mad will he be if it takes me a while? I'm not ...” She looked away. “Not so good at that. Some people really don’t like it.”

In his softest voice, Michael said, “He's a good boy, yes. A nice guy. And I think you'd be safe in trusting him. But he's also sensible, and knows that trust has to be earned, it's not always freely given. Give it time. I'd be surprised if the trust didn't grow. After all, while I think you'll do well, I don't completely trust you, as I don't know you. Again, trust is earned. Don't worry about not trusting at this point. With your background, I'd be rather suspicious if you did.”

“Yeah ... well, you know ... we kind of learn the hard way not to,” she said, not upset in the least at his professed lack of complete trust. “And un-learning might have to be the hard way too.”

“Being honest about everything Warlocke expected his apprentices to do is going to be one of the hardest things, my dear. After that, trust will be simple: it's just a matter of surviving without being beaten.”

“A lot of people, outside people, who don't know what it's like? They want it, total trust, right from the start. They're offended, take it personally, if someone holds back.”

“You're not outside any longer, Ms. Xavierre. You're part of the community.”

“But a different one than the one I'm from ... state homes and foster care ... the rest of you, you're the outside people from where I was.”

He patted her hand again. “Then welcome to where you belong, Ms. Xavierre. Welcome inside.”

She exhaled, somehow still less than comforted by the welcome. “How bad is it going to get? With ... what you were just saying, about Warlocke, about what he had us do? Is it going to cause a lot of trouble? What's it called, being a whistle-blower? Telling the dirty secrets, making everyone look bad.”

“Ms. Xavierre, it may well cause his little house of cards to come tumbling down. It could cause shockwaves within the magical community -- and the community at large -- that would take decades to settle. But, of course, if you'd rather not think about the youths who would come after you, who would apprentice themselves to him without knowing what they're in for, I can certainly understand.”

“… shit …” she said quietly. “No, I ... no. I know how it is. I know it's got to stop.”

“Then, Ms. Xavierre, let me advise you this once, before it becomes Gregory's responsibility. Be honest. Be completely, utterly, ruthlessly honest. And tell your Master everything. He will, in turn, take it to what is known as a Conclave, or gathering of senior mages. He will represent you, and he will protect you. If you're honest, your words can't be used against you. Any embellishment, however, and they can.”

“What if they don't believe me anyway?”

“If it's taken to Conclave, Ms. Xavierre, then they'll read the truth from your words. The Judges chosen will call for truth spells, and your testimony will need to match your statement. If Warlocke's testimony differs, then they'll investigate both sides. If his agrees, then ... steps will be taken. If he refuses the spells, then other steps will be taken.”

The girl sighed, deep and despondent. “But ...”

“But?”

“I've seen this kind of thing before,” she said. “In the state home, there was a counselor who did things to some of the kids. When some of them tried to talk about it, they'd get called liars, they'd be punished, and it'd still go on. They didn't want to hear it, they wouldn't listen or believe. Try to confuse them, question them and get them to trip up, confuse their stories ...”

“Ms. Xavierre, may I have your permission to cast a truth spell on you to show you how it works?”

“Is magic really going to make a difference? What if the person casting the spell doesn't want to believe it, wants to cover it up? Sure, courts and oaths and ... perjury or whatever it's called ...”

“No, no oaths, no perjury. This is truly a jury of the peers.”

“Because you hear that all the time, see it on TV, people who swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but, then they sit there and baldfaced lie their asses off.”

“Yes, they can try not to believe it. They can try to sweep it under the rugs. And then Gregory, as your master, can take the issue to a non-magical court of law. Mages don't like that.”

“People who should be in ... in positions of trust ... cops, priests, doctors, politicians ... I watch the news.” She scowled at nothing specific, then shook her head and looked over at him. “But you said something about lunch?”

**

-- C.

---

*****
@Incineratrix and @Seema -- 2 accounts for the 3 of us
http://www.christine-morgan.com/ -- Christine's books
http://sabledrake.livejournal.com/ -- Personal journal
http://incineratrix.livejournal.com/ -- CoX journal
*****