Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter 10
Veronica walked down the street, periodically glancing at her phone. She stopped when she found the number she was looking for, checking the sign on the building to be sure. 'Doyle Investigations' was printed in large gold letters next to a picture of six-pointed star with a band around it. In between each of the points there was a very faded symbol that most passers-by would dismiss as a combination of shadows and a poor paint job. Veronica, however, recognized it as a simplified version of Merlin's Circle.
Nodding decisively, she opened the door and stepped inside. The room wasn't overly large, the leather couches and matching chairs indicating the reception area doubled as a waiting room. There was a door with the letters PI painted on the frosted glass in the far wall, a modest desk positioned almost in front of it. A woman sat behind a desk, busily typing away on a computer. She didn't look up as Veronica approached.
"May I help you?" she asked, fingers still flying over the keyboard as her eyes tracked her typing on the screen.
"I understand from your sign that you are Merlinian supporters, correct?" Veronica asked.
The secretary paused, her hands stilling as she looked up at the sorceress. "What?"
Veronica frowned. "The sign outside proclaims you are Merlinian supporters," she repeated. "Or, is that an incorrect assumption?"
The secretary blinked in confusion for a few seconds before her brow cleared in understanding. She leaned towards the phone, pressing the intercom button. "Sir, there is a woman asking about...merlinians?" she said hesitantly, glancing back at Veronica to make sure she said it right.
"Send her in," a masculine voice replied over the speaker.
"Yes, sir." The secretary released the button then motioned the sorceress towards the door behind her. "Mr. Doyle will see you now," she said.
Veronica nodded, heading into the office. An older man was seated behind a large desk, gathering up the papers scattered across it. The wall behind him was covered in shelves filled with thick legal volumes, a tall upright safe standing off to one side and a large leafy plant on the other, the leaves swaying a little as the heater kicked on. A few framed certificates hung above the mini bar to the side of the desk, proudly showing off his credentials.
The man in question finished straightening a stack of papers, sliding them into a folder which he put in one of the desk drawers. He stood, adjusting his glasses as he walked around the desk to greet her. "Travis Doyle, at your service," he introduced, gripping her hand firmly.
"I am Veronica Blake, of..." the sorceress trailed off, shaking her head. "I suppose it does not matter any longer."
Doyle raised an eyebrow at the odd introduction, but did not comment further. "Have a seat, please," he said, gesturing to the matching leather chairs in front of his desk. "Would you care for something to drink? Tea? Coffee?" he offered, moving to the mini bar along the side wall. "Or something a bit stronger, perhaps?" he asked, opening the door so she could see the selection of drinks to choose from.
"No, thank you," Veronica declined.
Doyle nodded, returning to his own chair. "What can I do for you, Ms. Blake?"
Veronica seated herself gracefully, hands clasped together on her knee. "Is the symbol on the sign outside by accident or design?" she asked cautiously.
"By design," Doyle assured her.
"And, your assistant is not appraised of the situation?" she pressed. If the secretary didn't know about sorcerers then there was a good chance her boss didn't, either. The sign was old, possibly passed from father to son, and the knowledge of sorcerers and magic may have been lost over time. Veronica didn't want to say anything more until she was certain one way or the other.
"The last one was," Doyle stated. "Clarice has only been here for seven or eight years and, to be honest, it's been over twenty since the last sorcerer asked for my help. Well, until recently, at least." He sat back in his chair, glancing over her with an assessing eye. "Am I correct in assuming you are a sorceress?"
Veronica relaxed a little at his answer. "Yes," she replied, inclining her head slightly before pressing on to the matter at hand. "How extensive is your information network in this area? Have you heard of any recent Morganian activity in the city?"
"I'm afraid my information network is much smaller than it once was," Doyle stated ruefully. "I honestly thought all the sorcerers had left the city years ago. I started digging around again a couple months back when I heard about the dragon in Chinatown and whatever happened in downtown Manhattan, but I couldn't find a single person who knew what was going on. No witnesses, and no sorcerers." He shook his head. "I did find one lead. Drake Stone, the famous 'magician,'" he said, his mouth twisting into a wry smile at the word. "It looks like he may have been a sorcerer, but he was already dead by the time I figured that out." He sighed. "I'm afraid if there's any Morganian activity in the city, they're being very careful about not letting anyone find out about it."
Veronica nodded, looking both relieved and worried by the news. "I understand that private investigators are skilled in locating people. Is that correct?" she asked.
"Yes," Doyle said, a bit hesitantly. "I have extensive training and experience in tracking people. Is this Merlinian business or a civilian case?"
Veronica considered. "I would say a little of both," she said after a moment. "My husband was taken a few days past and, although I know he was taken by another sorcerer, there was no magic used during the abduction."
Doyle's brows furrowed in thought. "That's highly unusual," he commented, leaning forward on his elbows, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. "I do not mean to cause offense, but sorcerers tend to use magic for just about everything. It would take a bit of planning to stage an abduction without it, provided the abductor is a full-fledged sorcerer."
"He is."
"Has he contacted you at all?" Doyle continued. "Ransom demands? Anything of that nature?"
Veronica shook her head. "No. He already has what he wants."
Doyle nodded slowly. "It is information your husband has? Or vengeance?" he asked carefully.
"I fear it is the latter," Veronica answered, her expression carefully blank. "That Balthazar was not killed outright can only mean Horvath has something much worse in store for him."
"Balthazar?" Doyle asked, sitting up straight. "Balthazar Blake? As in, Merlin's apprentice?" he asked, unable to fully conceal the skepticism in his voice. "That Balthazar?"
"The very one," Veronica nodded.
Doyle sighed, keeping his voice neutral. "Do you have anything to verify your claim?" he asked.
Veronica nodded, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a tiny book, 2 x 2 inches wide and about half an inch thick. "I trust an identification page from the Encantus is still sufficient?" she asked as she began unfolding the book to its proper size.
Doyle nodded, pulling an old fashioned feather quill from his drawer.
Veronica finished unfolding the book, setting it on her lap as she tapped the front cover, restoring the writing on the pages inside to its proper size and adding about a 1000 pages to the book. The binding stretched from one inch wide to four to accommodate the additional pages.
"Just a moment," Doyle said, rounding the desk to stand beside Veronica. She watched as he reached down, murmuring under his breath as he gently brushed the feather end of the quill across the cover of the Encantus. The brown barbs along the vane quivered as they shifted in color, going through the entire spectrum before settling on a deep blue tinged with green. Doyle nodded, returning the quill to his drawer and clearing a space on the desk for the large volume.
"I thought you were not a sorcerer," Veronica said, her voice more curious than accusing.
"I'm naught but a humble magician," Doyle replied, motioning her to put the Encantus on the table.
"I see. The enchantment is on the quill itself," she said, putting the book on the desk and turning it so it was facing Doyle. "What is it designed to do?"
"Make sure no one has tampered with the Encantus," he explained. "Whenever you're ready."
Veronica placed her hand on the book, her ring glowing. "Identify me," she said, pausing a moment as she felt ink on the pages rearranging themselves before flipping the cover open. Her picture was on the first page, her name written in archaic script beneath it. Veronica Gorloisen Blake. She looked Doyle expectantly, but he was staring at the vertical timeline beneath her picture. It was a list of the most recent magically significant events she'd had a part in, arranged in reverse chronological order. She glanced at the list, wondering idly if 'fused with Morgana' or 'released from the Grimhold' were the entries that had caught his attention.
"It...it's over, then?" he asked, still staring at the page. "Was the Prime Merlinian was found? Has Morgana been defeated? Or did she escape somewhere else?"
Veronica leaned forward, touching the entry 'released from the Grimhold.' As soon as she withdrew her hand, the pages started flipping rapidly, finally stopping near the back of the book. There were six small portraits at the top of the page- everyone who had been involved in the final battle -and a succinct account of what had transpired that night.
Doyle took a moment to read over the page. "Incredible," he murmured at last, sitting back in his chair. "The Prime Merlinian was found, Morgana was defeated two months ago, and no one knows about it!"
"I imagine everyone's Encantus has at least the basics of that battle," Veronica commented. "But, back to the matter at hand..."
"Ah, yes, of course," Doyle said, visibly shaking himself. "Your missing husband. Balthazar Blake is a legend amongst magical trackers. Being able to find someone as skilled as he in concealment would be equivalent to a...squire slaying a dragon, I would think. Many far more skilled than I have tried to find him, but none have succeeded. Tracking him would be like trying to find one particular drop of water in the ocean, I'm afraid." His eyes were drawn to the Encantus once more, marveling at the monumental event that had taken place right under his nose. He blinked as one of the portraits at the top caught his eye. "This wouldn't happen to be Balthazar, would it?" he asked, pointing to the picture.
"No," Veronica answered, her lip curling ever-so-slightly. "That's Maxim Horvath."
"Maxim Horvath," Doyle repeated, his eyes widening slightly. "Who's lost his focus..."
Veronica's head jerked up. "How do know about that?" she asked sharply.
"He came in a month or so back, asking if I knew where he could get another," Doyle explained.
"Did you assist him?" Veronica asked, her voice dropping a few degrees. "A Morganian?"
Doyle held up his hands placatingly. "He told me he was a Merlinian, but no, I didn't."
Veronica still looked a little suspicious. "And you're reason for declining?"
"He said his name was Balthazar Blake. I figured Balthazar had to be pretty smart to survive as long as he has. Freely giving his name to someone like me, especially when he had lost his focus is a rather stupid thing to do," Doyle said, lowering his hands. "So, I knew the name had to be fake and if he was a Merlinian, what reason would he have to lie about that?"
Veronica nodded, regaining her composure. "I apologize," she stated, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. "I should not have reacted like that."
"Quite understandable given the circumstances," Doyle assured her. "But, in this case, I think his visit may prove fortuitous, indeed."
"What do you mean?" Veronica asked as Doyle moved the safe and entered a code on the keypad.
He pulled the reinforced door open, moving a few items to the side before pulling out a clear plastic bag with the word 'Evidence' written across it in bold letters. A glass tumbler was inside it, a few drops of amber liquid pooling in the bottom. "This," Doyle announced, holding the bag carefully, "just may lead us to Horvath."
Veronica studied the bag curiously. "What is this?" she asked.
"The cup Horvath drank from when he was here. The bag has a sort of stasis spell on it, keeping its contents in the exact same state as when it was placed inside. Not only can we still get a lock on his aura from simply holding the cup, but we have his DNA along the rim."
"DNA?" Veronica asked, glancing at the PI. "What is that? And how will it help us locate Horvath?"
Doyle blinked. "You don't know what- ah, yes. You were sealed in the Grimhold," he commented, mostly to himself. "DNA is, well, hm." He carefully set the bag on his desk, rubbing his chin as he considered his answer. "Let's just say it's a genetic code that is unique to each individual. Everyone has one, and it can be found in every part of your body- hair, nails, bodily fluids, etc. Horvath left his saliva- DNA -on the glass when he drank from it. I can use that to track him, provided he hasn't found a new focus. Or, hasn't yet replaced the spells that block that sort of tracking."
"DNA..." Veronica repeated contemplatively, staring at the glass. "Tracking the body itself instead of the aura...hm. This method would only work if a sorcerer has lost his focus?" she asked.
"Or didn't have any cloaking spells in place, yes," he agreed. "But, I think it's safe to assume Horvath would. He's almost as well-known as Balthazar himself."
"Would a sorcerer losing his magic have the same affect as losing his ring?" she asked, carefully controlling her expression.
Doyle rubbed his chin. "I suppose so," he said after a moment of thought. "Losing a focus completely cuts a sorcerer off from his magic. Losing the magic itself would be essentially the same thing, yes."
Veronica nodded, new possibilities running through her mind. "How does it work?" she asked, eagerly.
Doyle reached into a drawer in his desk, pulling out an old worn compass. "This has the spell on it. I put the sample of DNA into the compartment in the back, activate the enchantment, and begin scouring the city. The needle will point the way I need to go when I get close enough. Unfortunately, due to the dense population, it's only accurate within a half-mile radius. It could take a few days, but if he's anywhere in the city, I'll find him."
Veronica stared at the compass, unable to tell what spells were on it without actual contact. "May I see that?" she asked, holding out her hand.
Doyle handed it over, watching as she inspected it closely.
Veronica carefully looked over each part of every spell, memorizing where they were woven together and noting where they merely overlapped instead. Once she had fully committed it to memory, she turned her attention back to Doyle. "This is finely crafted. It took a highly skilled hand to create this," she said appreciatively.
Doyle nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Well, since it seems I'll be able to help you, let's move on to discussing payment."
Veronica nodded. "Do your usual rates apply?" she asked.
"Not always for Merlinians, no," he replied. "If the business is doing well enough, I prefer to trade favors."
"What did you have in mind, exactly?" she asked.
"It's been a long while since any Merlinians walked through my door," he said again. "Most of my enchanted items are in desperate need of a tune-up."
Although she was unfamiliar with the phrase, Veronica understood the meaning. She nodded, closing her eyes as she focused on the magicks in the compass once more. It didn't take long to fix it, strengthening the ties here and mending the fraying bonds there. She opened her eyes once she had finished, handing it back. It almost seemed to glow. "Are there any others enchantments you'd like me to renew right now?" she asked.
Doyle looked over the compass, a smile sliding onto his face. "I had almost forgotten how it felt when it was new," he commented before returning to the matter at hand. "This should be sufficient as a down payment. You can work on the others once I have located Horvath," he said, his smile turning into a grin. "After you have completed your business with him, of course."
Veronica nodded, her expression darkening. Although she had entertained any number of dark fantasies, she wasn't entirely sure what she would do when she met Horvath face to face.
Doyle pulled a small cotton ball from his desk, carefully wiping the rim of the glass before putting it in the back compartment of the compass. He muttered a few words under his breath, nodding satisfactorily as the needle began to spin slowly. Setting the compass back on the desk, he picking up a legal pad and pen, handing them to the sorceress. "If you'll leave your telephone number and address, I'll contact you when I find him," he said, moving over to the hat stand next to the door and putting on his coat.
Veronica quickly put her contact information on the paper and stood, recognizing the dismissal. Parting pleasantries were exchanged and she was soon heading home. She went over the enchantments on the compass in her mind, not wanting to forget anything before she got home. The meeting with Doyle had turned up an unexpected lead and Veronica almost laughed at the irony.
Although it had irritated her when he was here, Balthazar's habit of not cleaning the brush after brushing his hair might just save his life.
. . .
Dave was on his hands and knees, a piece of chalk in his hand as he drew arcane symbols on the stone floor in the basement. The Encantus was open next to him and he continually looked back at it to make sure he was doing it right. It was several minutes more before he completed the circle and he sat back to admire his work. The circle itself wasn't quite as round as it could have been and some of the symbols were a bit shaky, but Dave decided it was good enough. Careful not to smudge the chalk, he leaned over and gently placed Balthazar's hat in the circle.
Dave cleared a spot on one of the cluttered tables for the Encantus, briefly looking over the two spells he was trying to combine one last time. Moving back over to the edge of the circle, he took a deep breath, holding it for three beats before slowly releasing it. Clearing his mind, he held his hands out and summoned the magic from the circle. Nothing happened. Dave tried again. And again, and again. Still nothing.
Irritated, Dave looked back in the Encantus to see what he was doing wrong. He re-read both spells twice before he figured it out. "Won't get very far without activating the circle," he muttered, moving back into position.
Although Dave had a bit of experience activating the Merlin Circle, it still took him several tries to get the one he'd drawn to respond. It was several long minutes before the symbols in the chalk started to glow with a pale white light.
Dave sighed, smiling at this accomplishment, minor though it may be. "Alright. Step two..." He held out his hands again, focusing once more on drawing the magic out of the circle. Slowly, thin wisps of smoke seemed to come out of the symbols, curling languidly through the air although never crossing the line of the outer circle.
Concentrating on the hat, Dave directed the magic to focus on it. Or, more specifically, the signature of Balthazar's magic within it. The sorcerer may no longer have his magic, but Dave reasoned that his clothes probably still had enough residue to for the spell to hone in on. And, while people may use concealment spells on themselves, who would think to put anti-tracking spells on their clothes? Dave silently hoped his master wasn't on the list.
The wisps of smoke converged on the hat, easily sliding through the material. The various streams all went in and out through the sides and top of the hat several times before solidifying into a ball of softly glowing light above it. It didn't move, hovering in mid-air as if waiting for some thing.
Confused, Dave consulted the Encantus once more. "Break the circle to release the spell," he murmured, rubbing his chin. "How am I supposed to do that?" After a moment's thought, he kneeled down next to the circle and hesitantly rubbed out part of it with his thumb. He fell back with a cry as the orb of light came hurling at him, only to veer off at the last second an disappear up the stairs.
Dave blinked. "There has got to be a better way to break the circle than that," he muttered, getting up and brushing himself off. He paused as what he just did dawned on him. "It...it worked," he whispered, staring up the stairs. "It didn't sputter and die or just circle the basement- it actually worked!"
A startled cry from upstairs brought him up short and his elation turned to fear. What if he had still messed it up in some way? What if what he had made wasn't a tracking spell at all? Maybe those two spells weren't meant to be combined because it turned a harmless spell into something much more dangerous? What if it had done something to Becky?! Worst possible case scenarios zipped through his mind as he raced up the stairs, his imagination running wild.
Dave rounded the top of the stairs, panting. He blinked at the rather ordinary scene that greeted him.
Becky was still sitting behind the counter, looking a little surprised. Veronica was standing at the base of the other staircase, a small bag clutched in her hands as the ball of light circled around her with dizzying speed. She carefully turned when she noticed Dave, raising one eyebrow questioning.
"Sorry," Dave apologized, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was working on a different kind of tracking spell. Guess it still needs a bit of work."
"I would have to concur," Veronica agreed, although there was no reprimand in her tone. She studied the orb with a critical eye, her ring glowing as she brought her hand up in a sharp gesture. The light hit her palm, breaking apart into the wisps of smoke once more before fading away. "But no matter," she continued, brushing it aside as easily had she had the spell. "I have discovered a different avenue to pursue. Dave, dress as warmly as you can and come with me; I shall explain on the way."
Dave did as she asked and it wasn't long before they were heading toward the Chrysler building. "So, what's the plan?" Dave asked.
"The picture you texted me earlier marked that establishment as one ran by Merlinian supporters," Veronica explained.
"Wait a minute, I thought civilians couldn't know about magic?" Dave interjected.
"For the most part, they do not. However, there are exceptions. It is difficult to train an apprentice while keeping magic secret from his or her parents, for example, of if a father was a sorcerer but his child was not. It is not always hereditary," Veronica explained. "But, in this case, Mr. Doyle happens to be a magician himself."
"I'm guessing that's different from a sorcerer, right?" Dave asked, slowing down as the stoplight turned red.
"Yes. Magician, wizard, enchanter, these all denote a different level of skill. As you know, all a sorcerer needs is a focus. A wizard needs a focus, a specific chant and a gesture to perform a spell. A magician, on the other hand, is unable to perform magic on his own. He can manipulate the energy already present in an enchanted item enough to active it, but that is about the extent of his abilities," she explained.
Dave nodded slowly. "Alright. So, this guy was a magician."
"Yes. Being a private investigator, he had several enchanted items at his disposal...one of which tracks a person by his or her DNA."
Dave blinked. "Of course," he said. "A signature unique to Balthazar that won't be blocked by any concealment spells that may not have faded yet!" He paused, pulling into the parking lot near the Chrysler building. "Do you happen to have any of his DNA samples lying around?" he asked, turning off the car.
Veronica smiled. "As it just so happens," she said, opening the small bag on her lap. "I do." She pulled out a brush, a number of curly dirty blonde strands caught between the bristles.
Dave mirrored her smile. "Alright, so what's the plan?" he asked.
"I've copied the spells onto this," she said, pulling an analog watch out of the bag and handing it to Dave. "Mr. Doyle said it is only accurate within a half mile, so we need to comb the entire city carefully. When you near Balthazar, the watch will grow warm and the minute hand will point to his location."
"Okay," Dave said, slipping the watch onto his wrist. "So, did you bring a map? Because, we're gonna need one to make sure get every where covered," he said, starting the car once more.
Veronica laid a hand on his arm. "Dave, we won't be driving," she said.
Dave blinked. "So, how are we gonna get around, then?" he asked.
She just smiled, exiting the car and heading into the Chrysler building. Dave followed behind her, glancing up at the giant steel eagles perched near the top. "I definitely needed to grab a few more layers."
It only took a few minutes to reach the balcony. A faint tingle of energy drew Veronica to one of the eagles and she put her hand on its back. The feel of Balthazar's magic washed over her, as soothing as a drink of cold water in the scorching desert sun. She closed her eyes, almost able to believe she could feel him standing next to her. With a bit of effort, she pulled her thoughts back to the issue at hand. "Balthazar has been teaching you how to animate statues, correct?" she asked.
"Yeah," Dave said slowly, staring at the ground, "but I haven't really gotten the hang of it yet."
"You should ride this one, then," she said, although she balked at the thought of being separated from even this small part of Balthazar. It was necessary, she knew. As Balthazar's apprentice, the eagle would obey Dave's commands unless they contradicted those from Balthazar himself. As she shared no such connection with Dave, any eagle she enchanted may decide to drop him simply to be contrary. Statues had a type of personality of their own, generally gained from the person or persons who had crafted them. Veronica was not willing to bet Dave's life on the statue's temperament.
"Okay," Dave said, moving over to her. "Um, the sun's not gonna go down for a couple hours," he pointed out. "Isn't this a bit too conspicuous?"
"Not for long." Veronica raised her hands into the air, her ring glowing as the clouds covering the sky descended. Within minutes, the top of the building was nothing more than a shadowy outline. Veronica let out a deep breath, slumping against the rail. "That should be sufficient," she said.
"Uh, yeah," Dave stammered, a bit stunned by that display of power.
Veronica took a moment to catch her breath before pulling a map out of her bag. "It will be difficult to tell where the boundaries are, so I've marked them on the map," she said, pointing to the grid drawn over it. "Each line is three quarters of a mile apart."
"Why not a full mile?" Dave asked. "We could cover more ground that way."
"True," Veronica agreed, "but I do not want to risk missing anything. Although we shall be flying, it will be much easier to go around buildings instead of over them."
"That makes sense, I guess. Do you have an extra map for me to use?"
"You won't need one," she said, closing her eyes. She placed her palm over the map, her ring shining. The lines in the grid glowed in response, shooting off of the map and spreading out in all directions before disappearing. Soon, a faint blue line faded into view, hovering in the air about ten feet away from the balcony. Dave could barely pick it out from the clouds.
"The lines will fade once we have traversed over them," Veronica said, a bit breathlessly. "They will also change color on the map, so we may track where we have not yet gone."
"Hey, are you okay?" Dave asked, noticing how heavily she was leaning against the rail.
Veronica gave him a wan smile. "I shall be fine in a moment," she assured him. "That was a rather simple spell, but this city is quite large."
"Maybe you should ride with me for a while," he said.
"We will cover more ground if we ride separately," she pointed out.
"Yeah, but-"
"I will be fine, Dave," she assured him. "The spell to enchant another eagle is not difficult."
Dave nodded hesitantly, mentally kicking himself for not trying harder to learn that spell. He had no clue how to do the thing with the clouds or the grid, but this he had no excuse for. If he'd just taken his training seriously, actually applied himself like Balthazar always told him to... Dave sighed. This was the second time he'd let someone down because he hadn't fully applied himself to his training. Well, no more. If they found Balthazar- when, Dave reminded himself, when they found Balthazar -he would try his best to learn every spell his master had to teach him, regardless of how useless it seemed.
Veronica pushed herself to her feet, walking toward the opposite corner of the balcony. "You should follow that line, Dave," she instructed. "I'll take the next one over. Follow it until you reach the end and then come find me."
"How am I supposed to find you in all these clouds?" he asked.
"The hour hand on that watch will point to my watch," she said, placing her hand on the back of the eagle's neck. Her ring glowed and the metal rippled before the steel bird shook its head, as if waking up. "I'll be searching to the north of you. We'll meet in the bay."
Dave took his cue as she climbed on the eagle's back. He hurried back over to the other eagle as Veronica's mount leapt off the side, flapping for altitude and was soon lost between the buildings. Dave hurried onto the other one, patting its neck. "Okay, lets go!"
The eagle snorted.
Dave blinked. "What's wrong?"
The bird brought its wing around so Dave could see the scorch marks still running down it.
"You're not still mad about that incident over the ocean, are you?" he asked.
The eagle nodded.
"I didn't know we were gonna get shot at! It was a harrowing experience for me too, alright?! I mean, you can fly- if I fell off, I'd be a nothing but a Dave-sized pancake on the ground!"
The eagle chittered angrily.
"Alright, alright," Dave said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry I tried to make you take me and Becky to France for breakfast, but we've got bigger problems right now."
The metal shifted underneath Dave as the eagle fluffed up its feathers, insulted.
Dave sighed, realizing he was arguing with a metal bird. "Look, Balthazar's missing. Veronica took your friend to look for him and I need you to help mee-aaaaaahhhhh!"
The eagle suddenly leapt from the side of the building, Dave desperately scrambling for something to hold onto. The winds whipped past his face as the bird flapped its tremendous wings, gaining altitude.
"You did that on purpose," Dave muttered, once they had evened out.
The eagle's responding shriek echoed through the sky, although to Dave it sounded more like it was laughing at him. He sighed. "Just follow that blue line," he said, holding on as the eagle veered a bit more sharply than necessary to correct its course. He was starting to get the feeling it was going to be a long day.
. . .
Becky stirred the soup, turning the heat down on the stove as it started boiling. Dave had texted saying that he and Veronica would be back soon and asked her to have something warm ready for them. Becky, for her part, was a little surprised. Veronica had seemed to have a new lead and they'd only been gone a few hours. The sun seemed to be setting, although it was difficult to tell with the clouds covering the city.
Arista wandered into the kitchen, rubbing against Becky's leg. The blonde sat at the table and moved the cat to her lap. Arista closed her eyes, purring steadily as Becky scratched behind her ears. A loud metallic clank made them both jump, the cat darting off her lap and disappearing to one of her hiding spots. Becky stood, moving to the hallway when she heard the sound again. Her eyes widened as she realized it had come from somewhere above her.
Becky quickly cast about for some sort of weapon, not seeing anything she could use. She ran back to the kitchen, pulling a large knife from the drawer as she heard someone bump into something in the attic. Adrenaline surged through her and she hesitated, unsure whether she should confront whoever it was or try to escape downstairs. Would someone be waiting for her down there, as well?
Belatedly, she realized she should probably call 911. She ran back to the living room where her purse was, fumbling for her phone. A familiar voice stilled her fingers before she could complete the call.
"Becky?" Dave called, his voice muffled by the floor between them. "Could you pull down the ladder to the attic? I can't get it open it from this side."
Becky didn't move for several long seconds, just focusing on getting her breathing back under control.
"Becky?" Dave called again. "Can you hear me?"
Becky took a deep steadying breath before heading down the hall, her fear turning to anger. She stormed to the hall closet to retrieve the pole, jamming it into the hole in the roof and twisting to unhook the latch before yanking the stairs down with more force than necessary. Dave blinked down at her, his hair much messier than usual and his cheeks and nose bright red from the cold. He was obviously surprised to be met with a glare.
"Becky?" he asked uncertainly. "Why are you holding a knife?"
"I thought someone was breaking in, Dave," Becky replied in clipped tones. "You didn't tell me you'd be coming through the roof!"
"I'm sorry," he apologized meekly, glancing to the side. "It was kinda a last minute decision."
Becky sighed, unfolding the stairs so he could climb down. "Better than the alternative, I suppose," she muttered. "Is Veronica with you, or will she actually be using the door?" she asked, anger already fading to irritation as Dave reached the bottom.
"I'm here, Rebecca," Veronica called from the attic, sounding exhausted. She climbed down the ladder slowly, her movements lethargic. "Please forgive us for startling you so badly," she apologized as she reached the bottom, turning to face Becky. Her hair was a wind blown mess and although her cheeks were just as bright as Dave's, her eyes were tired, dark brown staring out from beneath heavy lids. She swayed slightly without the ladder's support and Dave took hold of her arm, steadying her. She glanced at him, nodding her thanks.
"Are you alright?" Becky asked, concern immediately replacing her irritation.
"Yes," Veronica assured her as Dave helped the sorceress down the hall. "I'm just tired."
"We should have just waited until after dark," Dave stated, leading Veronica to the recliner.
"Yes," Veronica agreed, sinking wearily into the chair. "I should have realized the strong winds would make maintaining the cloud cover a futile effort, at best."
Becky headed into the kitchen, reappearing momentarily with two steaming bowls of soup. "What happened?" she asked, handing one bowl to each sorcerer.
Dave quickly explained about the watches as Veronica raised a spoonful to her mouth, blowing on it gently. Heat flooded her mouth, the sensation initially over powering the taste as she chewed. A shudder ran through her as she swallowed, the hot food blazing a trail down her throat. She sighed in contentment as the warmth spread through her chest, marveling at how such a simple thing could feel so good.
"She put a grid over the city so we don't miss anything and controlled the weather to give us some cover," Dave was saying. "I think I'll just call her 'Storm' from now on."
"Do not exaggerate, Dave," Veronica said, wondering about the 'storm' reference but too tired to ask. "I merely moved some clouds that were already there. Controlling the weather is far more difficult."
"Yeah, just 'moved some clouds' to cover the entire city of New York," he pointed out.
Veronica raised one shoulder in a barely perceptible shrug, as if asking what his point was.
Dave shook his head. "Anyway, the wind has been blowing them away so Veronica had to keep putting them back. We had just met up again this last time she did it and when she fainted-"
"I did not faint," Veronica interjected. "My hand slipped."
"-I decided we needed to take a break," Dave finished, ignoring the interruption.
"You look exhausted," Becky commented, directing her words to Veronica as Dave all but devoured the hot soup.
"I am. That spell took more out of me than I had anticipated," Veronica sighed, her shoulders slumping. Although she hadn't really expected to find Balthazar so soon, it was still a little disheartening. She gazed sadly at the steam lazily curling up from her bowl.
Becky's eyes widened a little bit, misinterpreting Veronica's words. "Exhausted, as in you'll be fine after get some rest?" she asked, a bit hesitant. "Or, exhausted as in, you know, magically?"
Dave blinked, not having considered that possibility. His suddenly concerned eyes darted to the sorceress.
Veronica blinked as well. It took her a few seconds to understand what Becky was asking. She gave them a faint smile. "I'll be fine after I rest," she assured them.
"Are you sure?" Dave asked. "That was some pretty powerful magic, and you did it several times in only a few hours..."
"I'm fine, Dave," she repeated, levitating the blanket from the back of the couch and covering herself with it to illustrate her point. "It is actually very rare for a sorcerer to lose his or her power at all, and almost impossible through sheer magical exhaustion alone. There would have to be other contributing factors, as well," she explained. "Furthermore, it is far more difficult to magically exhaust yourself with powerful spells than with simple ones."
"Why is that?" Becky asked. "It seems like the opposite would be true."
"Powerful magic puts a much greater strain on the body," Veronica explained. "It would cause me to faint long before I reached that point."
Dave gave her a rather pointed look.
"My hand slipped," she repeated firmly, matching his challenging gaze with her own. "As you'll recall, we have been riding steel eagles through the clouds for hours. The moisture collected on their surface made them rather slippery."
"Alright, I'll give you that one," Dave conceded. "Still, I think we should only use the eagles at night. Moving clouds just takes too much energy."
"Sadly, I concur," Veronica stated. "There is no feasible way to maintain cloud cover in this wind. If it died down, perhaps, but as it is now..."
Dave polished off the last of his soup, setting the bowl on the table. "I'm gonna head back out," he declared, pushing himself back to his feet. "It should be dark enough by now."
"That is a good idea," Veronica agreed.
Dave gave her a stern look. "You need to-"
"Rest for a few hours," Veronica interrupted with a smile. "Then I shall rejoin you on the search until sunrise."
Dave looked like he wanted to argue, but finally just shook his head. "Alright," he said, heading for the linen closet. "Any preference on what blanket I take?" he asked over his shoulder. "I'm only now starting to get feeling back in my legs."
"Take whichever one you like," Veronica said, taking another spoonful of her soup.
Dave nodded as he disappeared around the corner, Becky following him.
"Can I help?" Becky asked as Dave pulled the thickest blanket he could find out of the closet.
"I was just gonna throw it over the bird's neck and jump on," he said, heading back to the attic. "I don't really have a way to keep it in place."
"Won't you just slide off?" Becky asked, a little alarmed.
Dave shook his head. "There's enough ridges in the metal to keep that from happening, and I mainly hold on with my hands, anyway." He opened the door to the roof, shivering as a strong gust of wind swept inside. "I don't suppose you have a ski mask with you, do you?" he asked.
"No, but...I have something else that might be just as good," Becky said. "Wait here." She hurried back down the pull-down stairs, returning a minute or two later with a scarf. She wrapped it around the lower half of Dave's face, crossing it behind his neck and tucking the ends of the scarf into the front of his jacket. "Good enough?" she asked.
"Yes, much better," he agreed, putting up his hood and pulling the strings tight to keep the wind from blowing it off. Becky grabbed his arm as he turned to head outside.
"It would be faster with two people looking. I could ride the other eagle until Veronica is ready," she offered.
"Uh, I don't know..."
"Please, Dave. I want to help."
Dave hesitated before finally shaking his head. "I don't think it's a good idea."
"But-"
"If something went wrong, I'd be too far away to help," he said. "If the enchantment suddenly faded, the eagle would plummet to the ground, taking you with it."
"Do you think that's likely to happen?"
"More likely than not," Dave said softly, glancing towards the stairs. "She enchanted the eagle when she was already tired." He turned back to face Becky, taking her by the shoulders. "I'm not saying Veronica doesn't know what she's doing, but she's also pushing herself hard. I don't know what corners she may or may not be cutting, but I'm not willing to risk your safety guessing. She could renew the spell if the bird started falling in mid-flight. You...can't."
Becky nodded slowly, not liking the decision, but not really able to fault Dave's reasoning. She returned the embrace as he pulled her into his arms.
"I'm sorry, Becky," he said, holding her tightly. "I just- If I was better at magic, then I could-"
"It's alright," she said, pulling back. "Go find Balthazar. I'll stay here and look after Veronica."
Dave studied her for a few seconds before nodding. "Thanks." Turning on his heel, he headed out onto the roof. One of the eagles leaned down, laying its head and neck on the ground. Dave folded the blanket to get the most layers possible between him and the metal and tossed it over the bird's neck, climbing up by the wing and carefully maneuvering onto the blanket. Once he was in place, he waved to Becky. She returned the wave as the eagle leapt into the air and disappeared into the night. Sighing, the blonde shut the door and headed back to the living room.
Veronica had fallen asleep in the recliner, her empty bowl on the table and Arista curled in her lap. On hand was resting on the cat's back, as though she had been stroking the fur when sleep claimed her. Becky couldn't help but smile at the sight as she carefully picked up the dishes, taking them to the kitchen. She washed them quietly, sorely tempted by the remaining eagle sitting docilely on the roof.
Dave's reasoning was sound- it always was. And, for all she knew, the lines of the grid Veronica had put over the city may be as invisible to her eyes as whatever it was Dave saw in the sky that night he asked her to climb up to the satellite dish on top of a building and 'disrupt the signal.' These reasons, however logical they may be, did nothing to alleviate the feelings of uselessness that enveloped her. Was there really nothing she could do to help?
. . .
To Be Continued
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