CHAPTER 10: LAW OF CONNECTION

"To have power over something is for it to have power over you."

Present Day—Nita's POV

Tom fell silent with a dazed look. Nita, riveted at the story, wanted to prod him for more, but a motion from Carl stopped her.

Tom will tell it in his own time, he thought at her.

She changed subjects. "How'd you get hurt, Carl?" She tried instead, turning to him. "Tom said you were bleeding to death?"

Reaching over to rub his partner's back soothingly, Carl explained calmly, "I'm the reason he almost got killed in the first place, Nita."

Carl hung his head and wrung his hands, looking thoughtful, "You see, the day I took the Oath was the same day I broke it..."

Past—Carl's POV

Carl had everything under control.

All that could be said of it was it was a well-planned crapshoot. There were uncertainties of course but all in all, the probability of things going wrong was disproportionate in comparison to things going superbly right.

He was known for his careful tactics. In all his heists he has never shot a person, nor been shot at for that matter. That's why people stayed with him—he didn't have to keep a gang in line, the gangs came to him for advice. He was well respected in these parts.

Carl peers around a corner. The steam rising from the grates of the manhole beneath him doesn't deter him the least. It's dark, but he can still tell the street's deserted. The hour for action was almost at hand.

He rechecks his strategy for the nth time. After all, Carl doesn't take chances.

And he needs this to work.

Glass cutters, scissors, an array of lock picks, gloves, spray paint, hooded sweatshirts—and above all street smarts—are all they're armed with. Well, that and their guns. This gang didn't trust Carl that much.

It wasn't in case of the police or guards—there was no security where he burgled—it was for fear of rival gangs.

Where they stand is on foreign territory and therein lay the danger.

Each lookout was carefully placed, Carl himself having previously scoped out this area all week. One signals the all clear, eyes never once turning from where he is keeping watch. The other lookouts, some situated in abandoned buildings, most on rooftops, give the same signals.

Carl strides out onto the street, all together missing the warning shouts.

What the—?

Someone runs into him full force.

And down he goes.

Carl looks up at the man pinning him and hisses like an angered viper, "Tom!"

Tom had shown up with the worst possible timing. Carl didn't know how it was Tom had known he was here. He had given Tom no indication of where he'd be tonight. No hint at all that this would be his activity.

"What are you doing here?" He whispers fiercely, getting up and pulling Tom back into the alleyway with him, shoving him too hard against a wall. Déjà vu. "Have you been reading my mind again?!"

"It's a trap Carl, an ambush! They know you're coming! They know you're here!" Tom pants, looking up at him pleadingly. "I'm telling you, if you walk into that store it'll cost you your life!"

His gang had gathered around them at some point and were quietly watching from the sidelines. Some had their guns drawn, while others just fingered their hidden weapons.

He looks to Tom again and once more his rage fades to mere anger and then to something else entirely as he realizes this is Tom. Tom who is looking at him with absolute trust even as he's crushed against the bricks of the wall, Carl's arm across him and immovable. Tom, who has never lied to him. Tom, who is always looking out for him.

Tom, who he should've trusted in the first place...

"Run," he whispers to his gang and they don't need to be told twice. They disband.

Carl wonders if this will be it, his first shoot out. He grabs Tom and throws him behind a dumpster.

"Stay quiet," he warns, crouching down beside him.

He evaluates his current situation. He hadn't even thought of running like the others. Two, especially with one so inexperienced, wouldn't make it unless they split up, and if that were the case one of them would most likely be dead.

He glances over at his partner...

When had he become that?

He banishes the thought. He couldn't just leave Tom here.

He physically can't.

"How'd you know I'd be here?!" He asks furiously to a cowering Tom.

Tom, who is visibly trembling from nerves, shakes his head. "Not now."

"Yes now!"

Tom looks at him incredulously. "I have a friend who's a Seer. End of story."

"You have a friend who's a what?!"

Tom inhales, then exhales. "Like I said, I'll explain it to you later. Now how the hell do we get out of this?"

Carl's confused. "I thought you could teleport us or something?"

Tom shakes his head, "That would require more time than we have..."

Carl makes to respond but Tom stifles Carl's next words with a hand covering Carl's mouth and a finger to his lips.

Soon they hear footfalls.

"They were here somewhere," Carl starts and tries to speak, the voice is Mike's! Tom just presses his hand down over Carl's mouth harder, effectively restraining him.

"They better be Mike, I want my money."

"Hey, my snitch delivers. And if this doesn't work we'll just go to his house. I know where he lives. It's a little risky, but well worth it..."

More footsteps, sounding like someone was running towards them.

"Well Chase, what do you have for us?"

"The gang disbanded," says someone who's out of breath. "They knew you were coming."

"Impossible! Unless you were giving warnings..."

"No-no-no," Carl hears the sound of someone being slammed into the wall, then dropped. "It's just that Carl's good, he's never been caught at anything..."

There's a moment of quiet.

Then...

"Well, he's about to be caught now."

Carl hears two men walk away and another scramble off the ground to catch up.

Carl feels Tom shaking at his side.

"Tom," Carl whispers urgently. "Tom who was that guy?"

Tom has his arms around his knees and was leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed.

Suddenly, Tom snapped to attention, straightening himself and jumping to his feet.

"They're going to your house Carl, is there anybody home?"

"How do you know...?"

"Just answer me!"

Carl shakes his head in the negative, they were safe. It was family night—the one night at the end of each month where they pooled their resources together and had an outing...

Carl freezes.

"Anthony." He whispers in fear.

"Your little brother?" Tom asks, concerned.

"He wasn't feeling very well tonight, had a fever and all, and mom... mom told him to stay home...and...and there's nobody else there!"

Carl springs off the floor, scrambling to his feet so fast that Tom has to steady him.

Then they both head north at a run.

Present Day—Nita's POV

"Who were those people, Carl?" Nita asked after a sip of soda. Tom had gone off and returned with cokes while the story was being told.

"Well Mike you heard of. He was the co-leader of our little 'gang,' and I use that term loosely because for the most part we were never really involved ourselves in gang activities. We never hurt anyone, and we especially didn't engage in gang warfare. Mostly we just banded together because there was safety in numbers. Thanks," he said to Tom when he was handed a soda.

"So why were you there that night Carl? I thought you didn't do anything that was against the law..."

Carl shook his head, his mood black. "I never said that. I was involved in my share of heists, burglaries, and carjacks. But we only did it when we were desperate. Families to feed, and so on..."

"Our very own Robin Hood if you will, Nita," Tom joked, earning him a glare from Carl.

Carl took another breath.

"Mike talked me into it, the bastard. He was in real trouble money-wise. I thought I'd help him out, but..."

"I see," Nita was quiet for a moment, then asked Carl, "and who else?"

"Who else what?"

"Who else was there that night...?"

"Chase, who was just a runner for me, but a dealer for him."

"And who was 'him'?"

"A Drug Lord and..." Carl fell silent.

Past—Carl's POV

They were too late. Carl knew it from the moment they arrived. That sinking feeling had sunk.

The house and street were both eerily quiet, the wind pushing open the front door ajar of a house that had once been locked tight.

Not only that, instinctively Carl just knew something was very very wrong here, though he didn't know how he knew. It was in the air. He could feel the badness radiating from his home.

Carl wanted to charge right in but a hand at his wrist stops him and pulls him back forcibly into the alleyway nearest his home.

"Tom, what?!"

"Shh!"

Tom peaks around the corner.

Carl is vexed. "Tom! Let go of me!"

He tries to pry his arm away but Tom's grip is steel.

Tom turns to him, "No! Not until we've figured out a plan of action! If we just go storming in there, most likely we'll all be killed..."

"But..."

"Be quiet! Or at least lower your voice... Now, what do you have that they want?"

"What?" Carl's perplexed, until he remembers that underneath the floorboards is his most precious possession... "Your watch!"

Tom closed his eyes in pain. "I'm sorry Carl, I'm so sorry! I didn't know..."

But Carl never heard him for at that moment he remembered something else. Underneath that same floorboard was...

"A Wizard's Companion!" He nearly shouts, before remembering the situation.

He turns to Tom...

"Tom, do you have your copy?!"

And as Carl continues with his revelations, he doesn't even notice Tom's hesitancy.

"How do I do it again, Tom? How do I call my Manual? Is it like this? Here, Manual, here!"

And sure enough his Manual materializes before his very eyes.

"Carl," Tom begs. "Please don't do this; you don't know what you're getting into..."

Carl whirls on him in anger. "Tom, I've had enough! You don't know everything! You don't have a clue about what's going on here! Yes, they're using Anthony as leverage against me, but you don't know what they'll do to him in the process!"

Tom gulps and looks down.

"You're right Carl, you're absolutely right..."

He looks to Carl. "But what are we going to do? You haven't even taken your Oath yet!"

Carl frowns, before his face lights up again. He figures the obvious course of action is to...

"I'll take it now."

Carl, absorbed in his planning, barely sees the horrified expression on Tom's face.

"Carl..." Tom stutters. "You can't just... I mean... this isn't right!"

"Tom what did I just say? You don't know everything..."

"But I know more about Wizardry than you do and the Oath should never be taken with malicious intent!"

"It's for Life!" Carl protests. "Anthony's Life!"

"But what do you intend to do with..."

"Look," Carl says in a tone that brooks no more arguments. "I will take whatever Punishment those Powers of yours dish out... as long as I get to save Anthony first."

Tom nods reluctantly, then sighs. "Then say it... say the Oath."

Carl clears his throat and grabs the book that's still suspended in mid-air. Opening to the page in his Manual that has the Oath, he starts reading.

Past—Tom's POV

Whatever I do,

In everything,

I will persevere

Tom starts at the words. The Oath Carl's reading sounds nothing like the Oath Tom had taken. In fact, Tom has never heard an Oath quite like this one. It's almost...poetic.

No matter how difficult my Fate may be

I will not regret,

Through all the pain

Is he making this up? Tom wonders. He worries about what the words might mean, yet is intrigued in spite of himself.

"Carl!" He wants to cry out, wants to tell him that this is the wrong Oath... but is it?

His throat closes up and, consequently, he holds his tongue. Tom's worried that this is taking too long but then again, looking around him, Time seems to have stopped.

Tom didn't know what was taking place any more...

Whatever happens

I'll be sure not to give up

Even if I lose everything in exchange...

Tom's speechless. The Oath Carl is giving is vague as can be yet understandable in its intent.

Someday, without a doubt,

The day is coming,

When I will protect you...

Carl had closed his eyes for the last part of the Oath. He opens them then and, with fire sparking behind them, he fastens them on Tom.

"It's time."

Carl smiles and Tom has to admit he's a little intimidated by it.

"Ok first," Carl starts. "Where's that teleportation spell that you keep so handy...?"

Tom fumbles for a pen out of thin air along with his Manual and kneels on the alley's floor.

"I wish we had more time," he mutters, doodling in his Manual.

"Tom, I said..."

"I know what you said and that's what I'm doing!" Tom snaps, not looking up. "You may have taken the Oath Carl, but you don't understand a thing about the mechanics."

He keeps writing vigorously.

"Tom this is taking too long!" Carl complains.

"Done! But I only wrote the Spell for me... It's too dangerous for you since we haven't figured out your Name in the Speech yet and we don't have the time to do it now. I did, however, manage to write an open ended Spell but it's only sufficient for one other person. And you said you wanted your brother..."

"Enough," Carl raises a hand, "That's good enough."

"But Carl, what are you going to...?"

Carl shakes his head, "My life is of no importance."

"That's not true!" Tom protests vehemently, scrambling off the ground where he'd been sitting on to do his Work.

Carl shrugs with his trademark 'I could care less' attitude. "That's how it is Tom. Now..."

"But... but Carl..." Tom closes the distance between them enough to grab fistfuls of Carl's shirt. "At least let me show you some defense symbols!''

Carl is about to consent when they heard the shots...

...and little Anthony's screams.

That's when all hell broke loose.

Before Tom can stop him, Carl pushes him away and is running through the front door, dropping his Manual in the street in the process.

There's more shots.

Tom tries to calm himself down, to not hyperventilate, and to overall get a grip.

Then he teleports in and wants to die.

Past—Tom's POV (continued)

Tom feels the second Carl drops. With a quick prayer to the One that he has all the data right, he teleports into the kitchen. He does so in a way that doesn't displace the air so he didn't think anyone noticed.

He creeps to the edge of the kitchen and slowly glances around the corner, completely silent, attempting to keep the element of surprise.

Until he gasps at what he sees.

It wasn't for a stupid watch, his mind screams at him. He can barely hear it through the buzzing in his ears.

He knows what he wants to do; his first instinct is to kill: Chase, Mike, and especially the Drug Lord.

But then he knows what he has to do and that's get Carl and Anthony away from this place.

He readies his transport spell...

But then chokes.

There's only enough for two... and no matter what Carl says, he can't leave him.

The whole place is shot up: holes in walls, broken windows, and three seemingly dead bodies on the ground.

Tom's heart skips a beat when he realizes two of them are Carl and Anthony.

He watches in horror as the Drug Lord pulls the trigger on the last man in the room besides himself: Mike, who had been begging on his knees for his life.

"Please..."

Another shot and, shattered, Mike drops to the floor. Lifeless.

Tom huddles back around the corner and prays that the police come soon. Surely someone has heard the commotion...?

"Except the parameters around here are soundproof. Even vision is useless. We're invisible to the world until I say so."

The Drug Lord is smiling when he finishes and turns to Tom, who was so sure the Drug Lord hadn't noticed he was there. Then he got a good look at the Drug Lord.

His eyes were black. His hair a shock of red. Like flames framing darkness.

"Lone One," Tom whispers and then wishes he hadn't.

"Tom Swale," the Lone Power states flatly, as if they'd known each other for ages.

But they hadn't, he had never encountered the Lone Power—he had never had an Ordeal to do so—but he knew clear as day that's who he was dealing with.

Suddenly there's a moan in the room. And he knows without looking it came from Carl.

He has to keep the Lone Power's attention on him.

"What do you want?" Tom attempts at congeniality, all the while trying to remember every passage from the Manual he'd ever read on the Power and every spell he'd ever completed that could come in useful right about now.

Which weren't many.

The Lone Power has the gall to shrug. "What I always want: mayhem, death, destruction..."

"But this isn't right..." Tom shakes his head. "You can't just take corporal form whenever you want. You need..."

"Consent? Well, I had his." He indicates his body. "Nathanial Maxwell, believed in me, worshiped me, invited me in, how could I say no to such a kind offer?"

"So you stole his soul." Tom spat, disgusted.

"On the contrary, he offered it to me as collateral. I gave him all he wanted. And when he couldn't think of anything else, I took what I wanted. It was a business transaction. Simple as that."

So he's just in mortal form. But Tom still can't kill another human, even though he has serious doubts as to whether this "Nathanial" is human any more.

An exorcism perhaps? Oh by the Powers, does he even know how to do that?!

He can't remember.

"Why here?" Tom stalls. "Why him? Why Carl?"

"If you have no idea, then why should I tell you?" The Lone One drawls.

Tom slowly starts to inch his way towards Anthony.

"I wouldn't bother, he's already dead. And your Carl will be too. Very soon, I can tell these things."

"My Carl?"

"Of course! He would be alive if it weren't for you."

"You're the Prince of Lies," Tom mumbles, making his way more quickly to Carl's brother's side.

"Am I? See for yourself..." the Lone Power says in a voice that suggests he's bored.

He's right. The Lone Power's right.

Anthony's dead.

"You're the one who showed Carl his Manual. You're the one who talked him into being a Wizard. If it weren't for you, I would have no quarrel with him."

It wasn't true... He hadn't forced Carl into anything, Carl had taken the Oath of his own volition...

Right?

"Why him?" Tom's voice is heavy with rage and despair as he inadvertently allows himself to be sucked in by the Power's words.

"Because his is—well, was—a talent too great to leave neglected... just like yours actually, only it never manifested. But all is well now. He will die, as will you..."

A gunshot rang through the air. With wide-eyes Tom watched as the Lone Power's—or at least Nathanial's body's—eyes rolled up into their sockets as he collapsed. And Tom can't help but notice the smirk on his lips.

"C-Carl?" Tom's heart leaps to his throat.

Carl stands, using the door frame for support, one hand holding a gun that's shaking with strain.

He gasps in pain and drops the gun. There's no need for it anymore. The Lone Power—having taken Nate's incarnate form—had died with a bullet shot perfectly into the back of his skull.

Tom ran across the room to Carl.

"Anthony," Carl coughs up blood as he leans against Tom, "Take me to Anthony."

"Carl..."

"Please, Tom!"