Still owned by Disney.
A note on spelling, because I have noticed I'm not being perfectly consistent: I own the SA junior novelization, and in it, the magic book is spelled Encantus (as opposed to Incantus, which is actually what it sounds like they're saying in the film, but anyway…), which is the spelling I've used here. However, Balthazar and his ilk are referred to as Merlinean, which I've here changed to Merlinian. Because it looks better to me.
The occult shop Drake directed the cab to was at the edge of the Village; not far, in fact, from where the Arcana Cabana had once sat, though neither of the Morganians were aware of this. Above the doorway a cracked signboard read 'Psychic-Magic-Alternative-Novelties', with an image of the Vitruvian man on one end, his groin censored with a yellow smiley face. The interior was labyrinthine, overheated, and smelled strongly of incense and dust.
Drake seemed to know the proprietor, a brown-skinned elderly man with large glasses and a facial tic. They talked quietly across the counter, while Abigail peered into a cluttered display case. There were crystals, jewelry, and bones of various animals, some painted with sigils she barely recognized.
"So, graveyard dust," Drake was saying, "probably at least 6 ounces. About the same amount of High John, and if you've got the blood around…"
"Naw, man." The shop owner shook his head. "There's not enough call for it to keep it in stock. I can get you a live lamb by morning, or you can visit a butcher and make do with pork or chicken blood."
"I don't do my own slaughtering." Drake grimaced. "Honestly, it's bad enough to have to use the stuff in the first place. Recommend a butcher?"
"MacGillicuddy's, two blocks over. What about salt? Equipment?"
"I always keep kosher salt around, and I still have the dagger I bought off you last year. But that's a good point, I'd better run it through the wash."
"Holy water?"
"Please." He flashed a winning smile.
As the man turned away to fetch the requested items, Drake turned to Abigail. "See anything you like?"
She shrugged, feeling a little dizzy thanks to the thick atmosphere. "I like the shells. I had a collection of shells when I lived in Barbados. A ship's captain even gave me a few he brought from Africa, once."
"I get seasick," he leaned over the counter, craning his neck to see what she was looking at. "Never have been big on the ocean."
"That's a shame. We're close, here, aren't we?"
"Yeah, but you don't want to go swimming here, trust me. Not in the ocean, or the Hudson."
"I can't swim." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I wasn't allowed to learn. Some of the Carib knew how, but it wasn't well thought of where I grew up."
"Yeah, I guess that doesn't work so well with eight layers of dress on. I pretty much only dog-paddle, myself."
"If we survive this," she said slowly, keeping her voice down, "would you be willing to take me to Salem? I don't ask that you act as my keeper forever, but it would be safer than teleporting, and I think perhaps I should…pay my respects, before I begin a new life."
He tilted his head, studying her thoughtfully. "Not sure quite what you mean by that, Abby, but why don't we cross that bridge once we've got our magic back?"
She met his eyes, her own gaze searching, then nodded. "Fair enough."
He gave her an awkward smile, and she noticed there were faint dark circles under his eyes. The Parasite Spell was taking its toll. "Give me a little money," she said. "There's a shop across the street. I'll fetch us something to drink."
"Huh?" He peered out the window at the café, then pulled out his wallet. "You know the money system?"
"I've been watching. I don't understand the little cards yet, but the paper money is simple enough." She accepted a twenty from his hand and tucked it into her pocket. "I won't be long."
"Yeah, well, you're a girl. You'll figure out credit cards and shopping soon enough." He smirked. "Don't get run over."
She wasn't sure what to make of this commentary, so she turned and left the building, waiting for a lull in traffic before jogging across the road. The café was more of a coffee shop and student hangout, half-full of college students eating scones and lattes drizzled with caramel. It all smelled delectable, and her stomach grumbled as she wandered up to the counter, scanning the menu. Much of the language was foreign, and she was struggling to decipher it when she felt a prickle at the back of her neck.
Turning around, she felt her gaze drawn to a young woman in the corner of the shop. She was seated behind a stack of textbooks, likely having been caught in the midst of studying, but now she was staring at Abigail with muted horror. With a sudden rush of anxiety, the young Morganian recognized Becky Barnes, who she had forcibly abducted for Horvath only a few days ago.
Their eyes met for a moment, then Becky made a sudden lunge for the door, almost bowling over a male student who was trying to come in. Abigail darted after her. Presumably the girl was in contact with the Merlinians. They must not learn what she and Drake were up to.
The two girls raced across the street and up a nearby alley, Becky trying desperately to get to the bicycle she had left chained to a low fence. She was longer-legged and quicker than Abigail, but the young witch caught up as she grappled with the bike lock, grabbing for her wrists.
Becky elbowed her in the chest, and she stumbled back with a wheeze of pain. That had hurt more than it should have. The absence of her talisman left her weak, and she clutched the front of her shirt, glowering.
For a moment, the two girls stared one another down, then Becky slowly reached for her cell phone.
"I don't think so." Drake appeared on the opposite side of the fence, having circled around through the occult shop's rear entrance. He grabbed Becky's wrist and squeezed just hard enough to make her drop the phone. "Let's all just stay calm," he added as she turned and tried to twist free. "This doesn't have to get violent."
Becky aimed a kick at Drake's crotch, but fortunately for him, the fence was in the way. "What do you two want?" she growled. "It's over. Morgana's dead."
This, more than the elbow to the sternum, make Abigail feel lightheaded. "Morgana's dead?" she repeated faintly. It had been the most logical conclusion all along, but somehow she had held out a faint hope.
Drake's brows knit with concern over the girl's reaction, and his grip must have loosened slightly, because Becky suddenly managed to jerk free and tried to shove past Abigail, back up the alley.
Something snapped. The witch-girl swayed, tensed, and tackled the escaping blonde, sending them both tumbling into a pile of recycling. Becky gave a shriek and tried to punch the girl pinning her down, while Abigail in turn grabbed a handful of hair and pulled back hard.
"Wh—wait, what are…!" It wasn't that Drake was opposed to catfights, but the sudden mutual ferocity of the two young women threw him for a loop. He scrambled over the fence, but hesitated to try and separate them physically. "Girls! Ladies! You're going to break something!"
Reaching for the first opportunity he saw, he grabbed Becky by the ankle, then looked up as more shapes appeared in the alley mouth.
"Let her go right now," said a young male voice that shook with rage, "or I'm gonna find out what color your intestines are." The beginnings of a plasma bolt glittered in the ringless hand of the Prime Merlinian.
Drake did the only thing he could do. He let go and held up both hands.
The struggle between the two girls halted, and they stared at one another, panting. Glancing over at Drake, Abigail slowly released her grip on Becky's hair, but her eyes were still feverishly bright, her system coursing with adrenaline.
"Hey," he said quietly, "breathe. It's over."
"Dave?" Becky's voice was unsteady. "I'm okay. Get her off me."
It was not Dave that strode down the alley first, but Balthazar Blake. His gimlet gaze was focused on Abigail, and it was this more than Drake's attempt at reassurance that caused her to scramble off of the prone Becky and flatten herself against the fence. She looked like a rabbit cornered by an angry dog, and despite years of enlightened self-interest, Drake shifted slowly to intervene, putting himself between Blake and Abby.
"Look," he began, "it's not what it looks like."
Balthazar paused to refocus on him, and behind him, Dave and Veronica hurried down the alley to help Becky to her feet.
"Are you hurt?" Dave smoothed the mussed hair anxiously.
"I'm okay. I'm fine. I just…I was trying to do my ethics paper," she said lamely. "Ow…that kind of stings."
Veronica placed a reassuring hand on Becky's shoulder, but her eyes were on the confrontation by the fence.
"If it's not what it looks like," Balthazar said slowly, "then what is it?" His tone was mild, but threat dripped from every syllable.
"She was just going to get me a cup of joe," he tried a smile, realized quickly it wouldn't fly, and sobered again.
"You killed her," Abigail's voice was leaden.
Both Dave and Balthazar looked at her.
"Is it true?" she asked. "Is Lady Morgana really gone for good?"
Dave pulled Becky protectively closer. "I didn't have much choice. It was that or die." He looked uncomfortable.
Abigail glowered at him, past both Drake and Balthazar. She said nothing, but the flash of hatred in her eyes was impossible to ignore.
"Let me rephrase my original question," said Balthazar icily. "What. Were. You. Doing?"
"We weren't after her!" Drake gestured tightly at Becky. "Why would we be after her? That's not revenge, that's just stupid. We were at the shop, Abby went to get us a couple drinks, ran into Blondie here, next thing I know they're on the ground wrestling, but, hey, women, right? What're you gonna do?"
He cowered slightly as the eyes of Becky, Veronica, and Abigail all turned to him. "Not…that I'm trying to say…uh…"
Dave rolled his eyes, but Balthazar's stony expression did not change. "I see. And what were you doing at an occult shop?"
Drake rallied. "Collecting information. We were left out of the loop for the last battle. Just trying to get our bearings. So, now we know the whole nasty business is over, we can just pick up the pieces of our lives and move on, yeah? No harm no foul?"
"You did try to kill me," Balthazar pointed out quietly. "And regardless of your intent this time, Miss Williams has kidnapped Rebecca, here, before."
"Collateral damage?" Drake shrugged weakly. "We were under orders from Horvath. Very persuasive man."
"I'm sure. Whose orders are you under this time?"
Abigail spoke up abruptly, "Not Horvath's, if that's what you're implying. If Morgana's dead, he should be, too."
Balthazar turned back to her. "If you're trying to hide that you're both missing your talismans, there's no point. I've already seen that Maxim has them. So my question is whether you're being blackmailed, bound, or drained."
Drake slumped a little. He had hoped their unarmed state would not be noticed. On the other hand…he looked at Blake's face. The fact that they were unarmed might be the only thing keeping him from blowing them off the face of the earth then and there. "Drained. We're looking for him," he said quietly. "All we want is a chance to get our own back. Will you let us go now?"
Blake smiled. "My heart bleeds for you, truly. Tell me, why would you think that a man who betrayed his own oathbound master, not to mention his two oldest and closest friends, would be loyal and fair to you, his underlings?"
"Well…look," Dave seemed to be recovering from his scare, "if we let you go in order to go tracking Horvath down and you don't get killed, and you do get your rings back, how do we know you're not going to then turn around and stab us in the back?"
"You don't," Abigail said sepulchrally.
Drake shot her a reproving look, but Balthazar's ring hand moved, and he turned back hurriedly. "Hang on! Hang on! What if we give you some information? Hm? Work together?"
Indecision flickered across the old Merlinian's face. Veronica moved around Dave and Becky to stand next to her lover, slipping her arm through his. "I think," she said, "you should tell us everything you know, as a sign of good faith." Her expression and tone were far gentler than Balthazar's, but somehow Drake got the impression there was an iron hand in the velvet glove.
Behind him, Abigail tried to straighten her clothes and hair, then moved up to stand next to him, an unconscious echo of the paired-off Merlinians. "I have no further interest in attacking Miss Barnes," she said. "It was an impulse, and unworthy of me. I apologize." The last two words clearly cost her, and Becky still looked skeptical.
Drake wet his lips, glanced at Abigail, then said, "I know the man who runs this place." He jerked his head at the shop next to them. "He takes consignments, and he buys when something good comes along. He just told me, he says, yesterday a stocky white guy with dark hair came in, carrying a cane with a blue crystal, and sold him a bunch of amulets and a cut-all dagger."
Balthazar's eyebrows went up. "Did he buy anything?"
"I didn't get that yet. I had to come see the girlfight." Drake gave a twitchy, uncertain smile.
The Merlinian rubbed his chin and nodded. "Okay. Let's go see what else he has to say."
Abigail was silent as Balthazar questioned the shop owner, and remained silent as they all returned to the alley to retrieve Becky's bike. Drake, by contrast, was chatty and unctuous, keenly aware that whatever the Merlinians chose to do with them, they were in no position, at the moment, to resist.
"So, the stuff he bought," he asked Balthazar, "cochineal? Cinnabar and myrrh? Mean anything to you?"
"Yes," Blake answered tersely, but didn't elaborate.
"…right. Okay. Because if it didn't, I know some other places around town he might've tried to sell to or buy from."
"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind." It was almost a monotone.
Weary of the game, Abigail spoke at last. "Are you going to kill us or not?"
All four of their enemies developed varying expressions of discomfort.
"At the moment," Blake said, "you're not worth the trouble. But I haven't lived as long as I have by underestimating the opposition." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "So this is what we'll do: every move you make against Horvath, you will consult us first. We will find him as a group and defeat him as a group. Provided you behave yourselves, I will then return your talismans and undo the curse that's killing you, after which you will both submit to a contract that allows us to monitor and limit your magical activity. Ten years' probation."
"Limit how much?" Drake frowned. "I have a career, you know."
"You'll have to clear new tricks with me first," he said, "but since I'm such a huge fan of performance art, I'm sure we'll agree fine."
"That's it?" Abigail wasn't sure whether to trust the offer.
"The Grimhold's done," he said. "Even if it were still a viable prison, we're as sick of the goddamn thing as you are. Do you think a 300 year sentence is enough for what you did?"
She avoided his eyes. "I was not requesting further punishment, but I am always wary of owing favors."
"As you should be," he said grimly. "Go home, rest and eat. You both look terrible. Any hint of betrayal on your part will be met without mercy, but there's no point in letting you die of exhaustion. I'll contact you tonight, once we have a plan."
"So now we're under orders from you," Drake watched them, rubbing his sore hand.
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
Abigail answered, "No. Your terms are acceptable. We'll wait for your call."
"Good." He smiled, tipped his hat, and turned to go. Dave and Becky followed at once, wheeling the bicycle between them, but Veronica gave the two Morganians a thoughtful look and a slight nod before making a graceful exit.
Once they were gone, Drake ran shaky fingers through his hair. "That could have gone worse."
"True," she agreed with a humorless smile. "But it's a dangerous game. We're in a bad position."
"They still don't know we've got Sun-Lok," he pointed out.
"Nor does he know we have them," she said. "I recommend we keep it that way."
"Keep a foot in either camp?" he asked.
"Yes. I don't trust him."
"What about them?"
"They're Merlinians. They'll keep their word. But I don't care much for their terms."
"Do we have a plan?" He offered her his arm.
She accepted, still feeling a little lightheaded. "I think we'll have to work things out as they come."
"Spontaneity! I love it." His voice lacked the gusto with which he would normally have delivered such a statement.
"Mm. Let's get another pizza. And ice cream." She tugged on his elbow gently.
The ploy worked. He broke into a grin. "Warming up to the 21st century, Abby?"
"Maybe a little. Stop calling me that." She hid a smile.
"Do you trust them, Balthazar?" Even as they returned to the turnaround, Dave was still hovering over Becky like a concerned mother hen. She would have bruises, and her scalp ached from the hair-pulling, but there was no lasting physical harm.
"In the sense that I believe they're being honest with us? Of course not. But I've learned, over the past thirteen centuries, that very few people are evil for evil's sake. Everyone has motivations. Learn those motivations, and you can predict a person's actions with reasonable accuracy." Balthazar hunted around on one of the tables until he found a small bottle of aspirin, and came over to offer it to Becky.
"Thanks," she smiled weakly. "I'll be okay." She accepted the bottle nonetheless.
"I'll get you a glass of water," Veronica volunteered, and swept up the stairs.
Dave squeezed her shoulder gently. "So…we're working with them why, then?"
"Because at the moment, their major motivation is to live. And I'm always reluctant to deny that." He sighed and sat down, looking tired.
"What about Maxim's motivations?" Veronica returned with a water bottle from the fridge, and sat next to Becky.
"I've had centuries to consider those, and I'm still not sure I understand perfectly," Balthazar answered.
Becky gulped a couple aspirin and eyed her anxious boyfriend and the comforting posture of the Merlinian sorceress. "…I really am okay, you guys. She just freaked me out, especially the first time. I mean…the red glowing eyes, and the things she said…but she's just a kid, isn't she?"
"She's precocious." Balthazar shook his head. "As far as I know, she's never done any direct killing, but I have no doubt she's capable."
"Is there anything more we can do to protect Becky?" Dave looked appealingly at his master.
"Hold up," Becky raised a hand. "I don't want you all to think I'm the weakest link because I don't have magic. The tracking thing is okay, but you're not packing me away with the good china, get it?"
Veronica grinned. "I like this girl."
Dave looked defeated, but Balthazar chuckled softly. "I think you should get a can of pepper spray," he told her, "but we'll leave it at that for now. Dave…is there anyone else you're worried about? Your roommate? Your family?"
"Bennett?" Dave rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm trying to keep him out of all this. I'm not sure he'd get the magic stuff. Only I think he thinks I've joined the Illuminati or something."
"You may have to come clean eventually, but that's not what I mean. Where are your parents? We never talked about that."
Dave shrugged. "Apparently my dad walked out on us when I was a baby. My mom lives in White Plains, but the rest of the family lives in Omaha. Except my great uncle. He retired to a nudist colony in California."
"I think we'd better pay your mother a visit," Balthazar said. "In fact, I think we're overdue."
A spasm of guilt crossed Dave's face. "You think she's in danger? Because of me?"
"No. Because of Horvath," he corrected. "Let's go."