"Well, I'm older now and little more experienced. Would you like to know what I think I saw… now that my feelings aren't in the way?" she asked tersely.
Why did it sound like she asked whether I would like arsenic or cyanide with my coffee?
"Sure," I said finally.
"Fire," she replied without emphasis, "You, as a little boy, surrounded by fire."
Damn, that's an image. Although, I had expected something a little more horrific. Fire and Brimstone, one of the horsemen of the Apocalypse, You know something truly epic. This was symbolic, but not quite the big-budget horror movie I was expecting.
"Anything else?" I asked, "Anything…darker?"
Molly looked at me quizzically, "Darker? You mean black magic?"
"No. I mean darkness, evil. Anything that scared you," I stated as nonchalantly as I could. I didn't want to pressure the girl into remembering anything traumatic.
Molly's eyes softened, "You're not a monster, boss. Crazy sometimes, but not evil."
I smiled, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, grasshopper, but we all have our dark sides. Mine tends to be close the surface."
Molly shifted her weight, drawing her eyes to the floor, "Is that what you saw in me?"
She asked me that question with such shy innocence that I couldn't help, but be reminded about how young she was. She trusted my judgment and pleaded, with a quivering voice, for me to tell her that she was good. When Molly first came into her powers, she practiced some very black magic, with good intentions, but black none the less. One of her victims is a permanent resident of a mental institution and the other, while recovered, carries the some mental scars of a psychic attack. I saved Molly from a guaranteed execution by the White Council through some creative maneuvering, strategic posturing and dumb luck. The end result was that I convinced members of the White Council that Molly could be saved and that black magic hadn't consumed her. They, in turn, appointed her my apprentice and put us both on wizard probation, which basically means if either one of us screws up and go the dark side, we both die.
Black magic twists a person's psyche until they aren't human anymore. They are just a vessel for evil to manifest. I had soulgazed Molly before I took her to the White Council to make sure she wasn't too far gone. I had never told her what I saw, but being that I was asking, it seemed only far that she got the same in return.
"I saw possibilities," I said, "When I soulgazed you, I was looking to see if you could be saved. I needed to know the truth about what black magic had done to you."
I watched as a some of the innocence fell from Molly's eyes and she looked at me with a certain clarity.
"You would have turned me in," she stated without question.
I didn't say anything.
She tilted her head to the side, "If you thought I had turned completely, you would have let me die."
I swallowed.
"Yes," I replied, hating the truth as it came out of my mouth. Molly was growing up. She could handle it. But that fact didn't make my guilt taste any less bitter.
"If you had already been corrupted by black magic—" I started.
She cut me off with gentle raise of her hand, "I know. It's just hard to hear."
She gave me a little shrug while averting her eyes.
"That's a cold decision, boss, to kill someone you know and care about for the greater good. Understandable, but cold, " she finished.
I didn't know what was scarier, that Molly was talking about her own death so calmly or that the picture that she painted of me looked a lot more like Morgan than I would have liked.
She let out a harsh laugh, "Honestly, I didn't think you had it in you."
She flipped her blond hair back and ran her fingers through it, "No, I didn't see it."
She looked me in the eye, "Whatever darkness you carry, I missed."
She took a breath, "What I did see was your pain, your loneliness, but mostly I saw your need to love with everything you've got and to be loved in the same way."
When she finished, there was a gentleness in her voice and look in her eye that I recognized. It wasn't the look of a lovesick teenager. It was a expression that every woman who has ever truly cared about me, has given me at one point or another. They look at me like I am the one that need to be protected. Like they know something I don't. I am over 6 feet, one of the top 50 most powerful wizards on the planet and I have a dog that even the Denerians are scared, who likes to eat off my floor. You'd think that would be enough for people to believe I can take care of myself. Apparently not.
Women, go figure.
But Molly had been more honest with me than I had expected. She has more than earned the respect that deserved.
"Thanks, Molly," I said.
"Your welcome. Call me if you need anything," she said and walked to her car.
"Wait," I called after her. She turned to me.
"You're not going fight me on this?" I asked, surprised.
She looked at me thoughtfully, "Something tells me, you need to be alone. I can understand that. Good luck."
I nodded to her and watched her drive away. She had changed so much since she first became my appreciate. She would soon be ready to become a full wizard, but more importantly she was really coming into her own as an adult. It made me feel old, but I couldn't dwell on it too long. I had some major wizarding to do.
I took Mouse downstairs, disabled my wards and entered my apartment. I was immediately struck by the sight before me that illuminated by candlelight. I blinked.
"Hi, Murph."