Sorry this chapter is so short, but it just couldn't be longer with what I have planned. But enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing at all. Its all Disney, Winston Churchill and Snow Patrol."Although prepared for martyrdom, I preferred that it be postponed."Sir Winston Churchill
I gotta say it. He told himself. Next time I see her, I'll just say It. He had been arguing with himself for the past hour or so as Balthazar threw one thing after another at him. He should have been focusing on what Balthazar was teaching him, he should have let everything else outside the training circle and yet… this had been bugging him since this morning and no matter how many times he told his students the definition of a particle versus a wave (yeah, he called it), this thing was still bothering him.
School had started almost two weeks ago and he'd seen Becky maybe four times since. And he absolutely hated it. Becky had been right, of course, they'd gotten spoiled over the summer. Both of them took the minimum amount of credits for summer classes and got to spend almost every day together. He'd planned to say those words to her on the last day of summer, he'd planned everything out but when the moment of truth came…nope, nothing. Nada.
"You're not focusing, Dave," Balthazar flicked his fingers and heard Dave's plaintive "ow" from below the cat walk. "Casting and maintaining multiple spells requires patience and concentration."
"So, what would be the point of this exactly?" Dave wondered, his voice echoing in the subway turn around.
"It's the first step to layering spells and-"
"And keeping up two or even three spells," Veronica picked up Balthazar's trail of thought as she came down into the lab, signaling that the lesson was almost finished for the day. She reached down and scratched behind Tank's ears who had sauntered up to her. "means you can protect yourself with a defensive spell and cast an offensive spells at the same time."
And even though she was dressed in more modern clothes (mainly thanks to Becky), Veronica still held an air of a bygone era. Veronica was there for most of the lessons since she'd been released from the Grimhold. Tonight though, she had been off doing….actually Dave had no idea what. But there was worry in her eyes and a strange tension in her movements. She stopped about a foot or so away from the training circle, and cocked her head to once side, frowning.
Dave looked around. "What?"
Veronica brought up one glowing hand and Dave had to block the plasma bolt with only seconds to spare. But the force of the bolt hitting his shield knocked him flat to the ground.
Veronica put her hand on a hip, a matching smirk on her lips. "You let your guard down. Don't."
Dave gave her a thumbs up from the ground. "Don't worry, on my guard all the time after this. Thanks.
"Back on your feet, Dave," Balthazar ordered as he made his way down from the cat walk to stand around the opposite end of the training circle from Veronica.
Dave stood finally glanced between them. "Something wrong, guys?"
Veronica's eyes flicked to Balthazar before they turned back to Dave.
"Guys….?" Dave backed away a little. "You're scaring me."
Suddenly, both of Veronica's palms glowed and a ring of fire shot up, blinding him. He stumbled back a few more feet as Veronica's bolts came screaming into view. He barely had enough time to pull up a shield to block them.
"Concentrate Dave!" Balthazar instructed. "Keep your mind clear. Listen to your instincts." He kept the flames climbing higher and higher as Veronica kept firing plasma bolt after plasma bolt.
"You can only keep that shield up for a little while!" Veronica chimed in as she volleyed a rather nasty bolt at him again. "You need to make a move!"
Think nerd, think Dave bit his lower lip and then he saw it. Balthazar was off balance by just a hair. Keeping his shield up with one hand he knocked Balthazar to one side.
The fire wall fell leaving only Veronica to deal with.
"No hesitation," Balthazar coached. "She can take it."
But before Dave could do anything, Veronica stomped her foot and Dave once again flew to the floor but this time it was well outside the circle. He landed neatly beside his master beneath one of the Tesla coils. It echoed dully in the new silence.
Balthazar smiled as Veronica walked over to them. She knelt down next to him, one hand on his back. "Next time-" she began to Dave.
"Yep…I know. No hesitations." Dave groaned.
"You're coming along," Balthazar praised as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, slipping his hand into Veronica's. "You've got the instincts. Don't second guess yourself."
Dave rolled over onto his stomach and groaned. Tank waddled over, sat beside him and barked. "I'll remember that. But for now, Tank and I should get going." He checked his cell phone. "Beck's show is going to start soon."
"We all should go, it's late." Veronica pulled Balthazar to his feet. They said good night as they turned off all the lights. Out on the street, Balthazar and Veronica went their separate way, toward their new shop in Queens. A sudden fog rose up around them and they walked farther into it until Dave couldn't make out their shapes anymore. A subtle wind pushed through the city and the fog dissipated, leaving the city street empty.
Note to self; ask him to teach me how to do that Dave thought as he and Tank began the few blocks walk to Marcy Avenue.
But as he passed under the overpass, Dave could have sworn that he heard footsteps. Normally, it would be a big deal, it was only nine on a Wednesday night in Brooklyn and it was the city that never slept. But there were very few people in this neighborhood, one of the reasons why the lab was in this area. As he walked, the footsteps sped up.
He stopped short and turned but no one was there. Another gust of wind blew between the buildings lifting pages of newspapers and probably parking tickets into a storm of swirling pieces of paper. The streetlamps were bright and buzzing with electricity. Nothing seemed off.
Dave looked down at Tank who looked up at him.
"Anyone there or am I just crazy?" He asked the dog. Tank gave a wet sniff and kept right on pulling toward home. "I guess I'm just crazy then."
As he followed Tank, this time, the sound of footsteps in the near empty streets. He slowed his pace, despite Tank's straining on the leash, trying to listen.
Dave casually glanced over his shoulder. Still there was no one behind him.
"I'm just tired," he told Tank. "It's been a long day."
Finally, Dave could make out the lights of his and Bennett's apartments and he hurried across the street. Just before he went inside though, he turned again. Still there was no one there.
For once the apartment was quiet, Dave realized as he let Tank off the leash. Bennett was off at a tutoring session and Tank shuffled back to his bed and promptly fell asleep, snoring like….well a tank.
He threw his backpack on the bed and turned on the radio. The radio crackled a little as Becky's voice filled the room. "Evening, New York City. For all you new listeners out there, I'm Becky Barnes coming to you live from NYUKW in Manhattan. I hope you're enjoying this Indian summer night just as much as I am. And I hope all my fellow NYU students are doing well, studying hard." She laughed. "And having some fun. And speaking of fun, here's one of my favorite Snow Patrol songs, going out to a very special guy who I hope isn't working too hard."
"The earth is warm next to my ear/ Insects noise is all that I hear/ A magic trick makes the world disappear/ The skies are dark, they're dark but they're clear …"
Manhattan 9: 34 pm
Dr. John Shapiro, head of the English department at NYU and professor of European Mythology, was finishing reviewing the last of the graduate student applications when the lights in his office flickered. They glowed bright and then shut off for a second. They came back on, as if nothing had happened. Dr. Shapiro looked up from his work and glanced around .
He checked his watch. It was well past nine. His wife was going to kill him. He promised that he would be back at a decent hour as he had been pulling late nights for the past week or so.
As soon as the lights returned, there was a knock at the door. Probably just Lucie, his administrator telling him that she was leaving for the night. John put the list into the out box for the next morning and went to the door.
He opened it but the hallway was dark. Not a soul in sight. "Lucie?" John called. "You there?" There was no answer. There was only the creaking of the building around him and the hum of the office lights. "Hello? Is someone there?"
John turned back into his office and there in front of his desk sat a small girl, no older than eight or so; his youngest daughter's age. Her dark hair was matted and unkempt and her tiny body was swallowed up by her dark dress that was far too big for her. She looked up at him with huge mournful eyes, her pale face covered in dirt and soot.
"Hello?" John knelt down next to her. "What's your name?"
The girl stared at him with hard eyes. "What's yours?"
"I'm John. John Shapiro. What are you doing in my office? How did you get passed the security desk?"
The girl sat up a little taller. "I'm Maeve." She said as if that answered all his questions.
John sat back. "Maeve? As in the warrior queen? From the Irish legends?"
The girl didn't reply. She stood and wandered over to one of John's bookshelves, running her fingers across the book spines as she walked. She almost seemed amazed by the sheer number of books in one place, she couldn't take her eyes off them.
"Do you know where you live, Maeve? Queens? Manhattan?" John tried. "Do you know your phone number?"
Maeve, ignoring him, yanked a rather large text off one of the shelves. She was so thin the weight of it nearly toppled her. When she settled on the ground with it, she flipped through the pages until she came to a painting. With a small sigh, she let her tiny hand drift across the page almost lovingly. "I have to find her. She said that we had work to do."
"What kind of work?" John sat next to her, his cell phone in hand. He looked over Maeve's shoulder to see the painting she'd found. "Maeve…."
The girl turned, eyes hard, and placed her tiny hands on either side of John's face. He couldn't move or speak but he couldn't look away from the girl's eyes as they grew brighter and brighter.
And now things get really interesting... stick around!