13

While slowly walking to the kitchen, where I was sure to find at least two of the girls, I decided to let her see real magic, learn that magic exists. She was alone, vulnerable, and if she started talking, she’d spend a long time in the loony bin before recanting. I wanted to see how she’d react, because my parents were coming back; they’d be here in three short days. I wasn’t sure just how much I was going to tell them, if anything. It was yet another weight on my back.

As the thought of introductions arose, I shook my head at the rudeness I’d exhibited. Sure, I might not want her around, but completely avoiding an introduction, not even asking after her name, just wasn’t typical of me. I spun, raising a calming hand as she gasped.

“Please, there’s no need to worry. I want to apologize for failing to introduce myself. I’m Logan Reeves, and this is my parents’ home. They’re abroad at the moment, and they’ll be back on Monday. Do you want to freshen up first, or eat? And what is your name?”

“Oh, ahem yes, sorry. I didn’t realize. I’m Trish, well, Patricia actually, but no one ever uses that. I think I’d like to eat and drink first, I’m really dry,” she added hesitantly.

“Well,” I raised the takeout bags, “that shouldn’t be much of a problem. I’m quite hungry myself.”

Christine, Mickey and Kristen were all sitting at the kitchen table, eating, talking, and juggling balls of varicoloured light. I could feel Trish freezing up behind me, and dropped the bags. Using my peripheral vision, I snaked a hand behind and caught her wrist, bringing her to the fore.

The bags falling made enough noise to penetrate the girls’ conversation, and I was surprised that it was Kristen who ran up to me, jumping and hugging me tight. I released my grip on Trish and hugged her back, and Kris’ arms wrapped around my head, bringing me in for a wet kiss.

“I think I did it!” She said loudly, “There’s this old guy, a semi-retired machinist and carpenter, he does reproductions of old things, anything from steam engines to custom order bondage gear. He’s got a workshop on the other side of town, near the warehouses, and I faxed the blueprints over. Found him on the internet, he has a website, and he e-mailed back, saying that he could do it. It’ll take him a couple of weeks, a minimum of ten days, even with top pay. I gave him the go ahead, stressing ‘the need for precision’,” she spouted breathlessly, mimicking Chris’ voice for the last few words.

“And who is she?” Chris and Mickey had gotten up and stepped closer, and Chris was looking at Trish. Mickey was focused on me, and brought a savory little pastry she had in hand to my mouth. I took it, and made a show of biting down on her finger, licking crumbs away. She laughed softly, and retreated when Kris growled at her.

“Let’s sit down, I’m starved. This is Trish, untalented, and she needs a drink.”

“Yeah, I could use a shot,” Trish said. “Hey, what were those coloured things you were playing with?” she asked Chris.

“Dancing lights, a very minor spell conjuration. Trish, these are Christine, Kristen, and Mickey.”

“Spell?” Trish gaped.

“How did you get so clean? What happened to the bodies? What do you think this is?” I cast my very first spell again, calling up a small fountain of bubbling fire from my raised index finger. “We’re wizards, the real thing.”

Perhaps I was a bit too direct, or more likely, Trish was at the end of her rope. Her skin waxy pale, she tottered and collapsed in a faint. My arm still full of (and moving all over) Kris, I was in no position to catch her, but Chris managed to keep her from banging her head on the floor.

“Bodies?” Kris demanded, while the four of us manhandled Trish into a chair. I held her head upright, and wet her lips using a glass of coke, but she didn’t wake up. I decided to let her rest for the nonce.

“I thought we were going to keep things secret?” Chris asked in a breathy voice, still exercised from the weight she’d held up and helped carry.

“She’s confessed to being a runaway, said she was on her way to her grandmother and was robbed. Five gangers were this close,” I held two fingers a millimeter apart, “to raping her, and I shot two of them. Ashed the bodies, so they’ll have simply disappeared. It was dark, I didn’t look like myself, and was even wearing the bike gloves, so I don’t believe there’ll be any traces. I tried the grace spell I told you about, it left me all cramped up, and I need to eat. Then I’ll get rid of the beard and get into the tub, damn but that would help. As for showing her magic, Chris, who’ll believe her?”

“A point,” she admitted grudgingly, “but that’s not why you did it,” she looked at me suspiciously. Mickey, meanwhile, cast the spells that would return my skin and eyes to their original colour, fetched me a large plate with some of the food I’d brought, and began putting the rest away. She was also listening intently, and I shot her a fond look. I never really looked at her body, however splendid it was. When I was gazing at her, it was always at the enchanting perfection of her face.

“True, true,” I smiled back at Chris, “I told you my parents are landing on Monday. I don’t know what to tell them, if anything. My lawyer’s dealing directly with Cynthia by now, but I don’t think we can move into the new house, not yet.”

“And speaking of the new house,” Chris looked thoughtful, “why spend so much money on a wonderful place, when the ritual will tell everyone that that is exactly where we are?”

“Ah, but that is the wonderful thing about it. The ritual is a powerful enough magic to leave a lingering aura, so the other magics we work there will not make anyone look twice. And there’s a third circle spell that will mask our magical auras temporarily. I’ll use it immediately after the ritual, which will take place in the outdoors, far from the house. We’ll finish the ritual, run back to the house, hide beneath the shield with wizard sight active to tell us when they’re gone, and let the elementals look. They’ll see nothing, ordinary people, and start widening the search. How likely are they to bother the sleeping old people we’ll look like under the illusion we’ll have ready? And how likely are they to search our manor again? Our biggest asset is their arrogance. They haven’t been really challenged in millennia, and they probably can’t conceive of a challenge rising. They’re used to everyone being deadly afraid of them. Which we are, if we have any sense,” I looked the girls in the eyes, and they nodded somberly. “The thought that anyone would be willing to hide in the open, beneath their eyes, would never occur to them. It’s a gamble, but so is our survival, in any case. What do you think?”

“It will work,” Mickey said instantly, “I’m sure of it. If we manage the technical end, which should not prove too difficult, we’ll fool them. It’s a brilliant plan. I have some experience with how that kind of arrogance thinks and acts. Guile is the best weapon against them, however smart they may be. From what I’ve seen in the book, they haven’t really looked at humanity, don’t really understand technology. The last few hundred years are a mere moment to these creatures. They’re more primitive, with hunter mentalities. Not stupid, but they think differently. And remember that they learn from experience, so never use the same trick twice, once you believe they’ve figured things out.”

Kristen beamed at us, and Chris seemed somewhat doubtful.

“It’s such a huge gamble,” Chris whispered and hugged herself, “and we’re gambling with our lives.”

Kris and I enveloped Chris in a group hug, kissing her all over, and I motioned a frozen Mickey to join us, bringing her into the hug and kissing her hard on the lips.

“Chris,” I whispered and nibbled on her ear lobe, “every spell we cast is a gamble. It will be quite a while before we can hide ourselves adequately. The best we can do just isn’t enough.”

“How will you cast several third circle spells, one after another?” Chris demanded.

“I’ll siphon off some of your energies, with a second circle spell, the first and most minor of the healing magics. I’ve thought about it, I assure you. We’ll refine the plan, but we can – and must, do it. It’s our best chance to achieve a temporary measure of security.”

Chris relaxed in our grip, and kissed me and then Kris hard on the mouth, before turning to Mickey and touching her lips to lips, more softly. None of missed the significance of her failure to draw back. “I just can’t think of anything better,” Chris said ruefully, “but I’ll certainly try.”

“Oh, Logan, the escape supplies are all ready, in all the vehicles. We settled on the Obrotts hostel as a rendezvous. We figured that if they do think to look, they’d check for expensive hotels, not a cheap and relatively modest hostel. It’s also far enough away to allow us to make sure we’re not followed, and close enough to walk there in less than an hour. Well,” Kristen added apologetically, “from here, anyway. From the new house, it’s pretty far for a walk, but there isn’t anything very close that would escape notice.”

“Excellent work, Kris,” I set my lips against hers, and bit down gently on her lower lip, butting noses. “I just love efficiency. We’re going to make you scream so hard, the roof will vibrate, until we put a gag in,” I whispered to her in an intense tone, looking deep into her brown eyes. Kristen flushed visibly, and started to squirm loose from our embrace, dreadfully embarrassed. Chris grinned at me companionably, while Mickey looked inscrutable, a perfect poker face on a perfect face. I looked into her blue eyes, and the opaque, neutral, nonjudgmental coolness shifted, eyes twinkling with merriment as she allowed her lips to bend ever so slightly.

We separated, and I sighed and stretched, truly happy. I had hope for a safer future, and I wasn’t alone.

“Now, I want to eat, rest my weary bones in the water, and then come back for another casting session. We all need to get better. I’m really not interested in dealing with Patri…, that is to say, Trish. Could you take her off my hands, please? Tell her about the real world and about magic, but don’t mention our plans. See if she’ll talk to you.”

“She’s very beautiful, I think,” Chris noted clinically.

“Typical cheerleader, blonde, blue eyes, she’s got the build for it,” Kris sniffed. “Probably the brains, too.”

“Come now,” Mickey chided her, “this is a girl who had the courage to run away from home, from a bad situation. And then she nearly got raped, and saw real magic. She can’t help how she look.”

Kris looked down. “Yes, you’re right, I suppose I’m being petty. I still don’t like her,” she lifted her chin stubbornly. “What do you think, Logan?”

“I don’t trust her as far as she can throw me. Other than that, I prefer not to think of her, which is why I consign her to your tender care,” I looked at the three of them. “Tomorrow morning, Chris and I are going to play, and Kristen will visit her parents. Mickey, can you deal with her? See what you can find out?”

“I’ll do my best,” Mickey seemed less than certain, “but I don’t think I’m the best one for the job. I’m abysmal at girl talk. I don’t know…”

“Just listen to her,” Chris told her, “mention a few things about how bad you had it at home, and she’ll try to outdo you with how awful things were for her. Listen, and she’ll talk. Just do the ‘hmmm,’ in the proper places. She’ll want to unburden, I’m sure.”

I was already stuffing my face, looking at the kitchen counters, noting that Mickey hadn’t forgotten – she’d taken my earlier comment concerning cooking to heart. She’d cut and prepared ingredients for a real cookfest, and printed a few recipes from the net. I felt my heart swell for a moment, and nearly choked on a bit of asparagus. I couldn’t believe my luck, finding these girls. Chris and Mickey were special, and so was Kristen, if to a lesser degree. I’d warmed to her, but she was still more Christine’s friend than someone I’d have chosen for myself.

“What do you think, about telling my parents?” I asked and went back to eating, stopping every now and then to cast a first circle spell.

The girls debated the subject, between eating, casting spells and learning new ones, and decided that they’d have to meet them before giving an informed opinion.

“Good enough,” I wiped my mouth with a napkin, “I’ve taken the edge off, I’m going to remove the beard and change.” Thinking of clothes, I noticed that the girls were wearing very short shorts and rather brief tops, only Christine bothering with a bra. Then again, the others could manage without, for Chris it would probably have been painful. They presented a veritable feast for all the senses, I laughed softly.

“What? Is there something on…? Did I...?” They asked, words stumbling over each other.

“No, not at all. I just looked at you, and the kitchen, and thought, ‘what a feast it is, for all the senses,’ ” I looked at them hungrily.

“Whooo,” Chris waved a hand, moving the air with the breeze spell, “but is it getting hot in here?”

Trish chose that moment to stir, and I left her to the girls. They could handle her. They could handle most things.

I couldn’t wait to have better control over my body. I found shaving to be such an annoying ritual, and I wouldn’t mind not having to brush teeth and gargle, either. Our available time and our use of it would change drastically after the ritual. We truly couldn’t be counted as humans after that, not entirely. We’d be wizards, in sooth.

Tossing shoes aside, hanging the clothes and putting on shorts and slippers was such a ‘back home’ ritual that I relaxed further. I stared blankly at a mirror, looking into myself, and found that killing those three creeps bothered me not at all. And that was exactly what bothered me. I’d ingested the ‘sanctity of each and every human life’ ideal, and I really believed that life possessed a value all its own. Supposedly, only psychos killed easily and casually. The old ‘if I wonder whether I’m insane, I must be sane’ saw didn’t cut it here, I was pretty sure. Psychology was one field of study in which I wasn’t terribly well read or well versed, beyond the layman’s familiarity of any voracious reader. Then again, I grew up a lot earlier than other people, because I understood what I read, and I read a very great deal. These days, what with James Bond and all the spy thrillers, everyone knew what being a spy was like. Likewise, with all the television and murder stories, the work of a cop, detective and the like was familiar. ‘Dead drop’ wasn’t a mystery, everyone knew the rules of evidence and how to avoid leaving fingerprints behind. Could you become inured to death and violence, to a life out of fantasy, because you read all those books? Especially when I’d somehow managed to keep the deaths almost sanitary, distant. Nothing of the smell of blood, shit and viscera had touched me, everything was almost insulated, most of the foes not merely nonhuman but also inhuman. Oh well, as long as I wasn’t chewing on the carpets, I’d just have to manage.

I took the time to clean the pistol, reloaded it, and locked it away. I thought about replacing it, but decided that there was no need. Without bodies, there was no crime, and I’d probably turned the bullets to windblown dust when I dealt with the bodies.

By the time I returned to the kitchen, not quite limping but certainly uncomfortable with the after effects of the grace spell, the girls had managed to calm Trish somewhat. She was still gazing apprehensively at the spells they cast between bites, even as she herself was eating.

Trish’s apprehension swelled visibly when I joined them at the table, her peaches and cream complexion paling, but she settled down when nothing awful happened, and we continued to eat and practice magic in silence.

After nearly an hour, with Trish staring wide eyed at the sheer amount of food the four of us demolished, I was feeling nearly replete. “Mickey, how about some cooking practice? Best not use too much magic after dark.”

“Sure,” she replied after swallowing the bite she’d taken and rose, as Trish inquired, “Why?”

“Surely they explained about the elementals? They patrol the city, mostly at night.”

“Oh, right,” I could almost feel her roll her eyes at all the nonsense.

I proceeded to ignore her, and worked as chef’s aide to Mickey, who moved about the kitchen with smooth, practice expertise. What that girl could do with a cleaver in hand! She was quietly complimentary concerning my skills, and very surprised that a boy could cook at all. We exchanged shop talk as the others looked on, still eating and practicing, Criss and Cross adding the inevitable occasional snide comment.

I did take a moment to snag a piece of paper, and began writing down a few sentences. When most of the work was done, and things were heating and bubbling, I kissed Mickey, and told everyone that I was off to the tub.

“Kris, try to memorize these,” I gave her the paper. “At least a few of them, if you can. These sentences, if you repeat even a few of them when and where they seem appropriate, should convince your parents that you’re really studying. Especially if you remember the translations from latin and who you’re quoting. Try to sound more refined, and pick something elegant to wear. It’ll be like a hit from a baseball bat, I assure you. Why, your parents might even think you’re becoming lady-like,” I grinned at her.

Criss and Cross looked at me intently, and then at each other, shaking their heads and smiling.

“Neat,” Kris grinned, “Absolutely devilish,” Chris rebutted, “and don’t forget you have to memorize things,” she poked Kris in the ribs.

“If they ask for details, tell them that’s the last thing you want to talk or think about,” I advised, “your annoying, headache inducing studies, that is.”

“Ah, what are you talking about?” Trish interjected.

“Explain it to her, Kris, I’m going for some hot water and jets.”

I went straight to the hot tub, not bothering with a bathing suit, and slowly relaxed under the constant assault from the jets. It wasn’t a massage, but it was the next best thing. I lay there, oblivious to the surroundings, eyes closed. I jerked my eyes open when I heard and felt the water splash as someone joined me.

“Chris! Welcome,” I found it more than somewhat difficult to look at her face. She hadn’t bothered with a suit, either, and her bits and pieces were very distracting. Her large breasts floated in the water, and felt especially nice when she snuggled up to me. We touched each other, exploring with no sense of hurry, with something of a sense of gentle familiarity. For me, home had always been a place, but I was beginning to understand that it could also mean people, very special people. I didn’t want it to end, but couldn’t quite strangle a yawn.

“Sorry about that,” I didn’t bring a hand up to catch it, because I didn’t want to get my face wet. “You know what the true, best way to a man’s heart is, Chris?”

“Going through the ribs?” She shot me a sarcastic look.

“Ah, you kill me,” I clutched my chest. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t like being scared all the time. Every little noise makes me jump. I’m just… not very brave.”

“Yes, you are, Chris,” I caught her chin and looked directly into her green eyes.

“No I’m not,” she answered weakly.

“You most certainly are. I’m not going to forget our first night together. You only have to get through two more weeks, twenty days at most. Part of the enhancement ritual will allow you to know, to sense what is all around you, not just with wizard sight. You won’t be caught by surprise. You’re not confident in yourself, in your magic, because it hasn’t been tested in combat. But it will, and it will be on our terms, Chris. We’re fighting on the guerilla side, we have it much easier. By the time we’re a force to be reckoned with, and you’re a true general, things will be very, very different. We won’t be children anymore, not that we are now,” I twisted her hard nipples in my fingers.

“Whooo, adult stuff,” she faked a swoon, “so dirty.”

“We can always wash it off,” I splashed her.

“I’ve been reading up on the military stuff. It’s so fewking complicated, I already feel lost,” she complained.

“Read it, and make notes of what seems relevant to us. Consult the book, heavily. The circle of transmutation is much more complicated than we’ve really seen. We can create materials that are truly magical by twisting what is, making for great weapons. It’s not just spells or mystical martial arts, or rituals. There’s magical technology too, however silly it may sound.”

“Oh, I figured that out already,” she elbowed me. “Remember those fighting suits the book said were hidden in Siberia somewhere. I looked them up, and even if I didn’t really understand anything about them, the broader concepts are adaptable. I wonder,” her words trailed off and got a far, spacey kind of look in her eyes.

“You wonder?” I poked her right back.

“Ooof. Beast. I wonder if we can make spaceships, rise up from the atmosphere on engines of magic, can we still, or rather, would you still be able to draw power from the elements? From the sun, the movement of planets?” Her green eyes were shining with delight.

I hated to disappoint her, but “Come on, Chris. That’s light years away. I’m not saying we shouldn’t explore further, but first we need to study what is known, before going off on tangents. Remember that the gods are supposed to be imprisoned in the sun, and we really don’t want to draw off energy that might be involved in maintaining their prison. It’s not just a fantasy, and we might well get there, but we need to worry about survival first. If you come up with anything interesting, by all means write it down, for the future and my attention, but don’t waste time on dreams now. We have so little of it to spare.” I never figured on Chris being space mad.

“Yes, I know,” she glared at me, as though she could read my thoughts, “but we need something to look forward to, to hope for and dream of.”

“Space is nothing, Chris. Remember all those alternate worlds the demons are coming from? Why are they the only ones who can invade, tell me that? We might even be able to forge commercial ties to alien places and strange universes, trading technology and ideas. You’re thinking small, confining yourself to the familiar. Don’t, think wide and wild.”

“Oh!” Her eyes had that shine back, and her grip on me tightened. “That’s…” she looked for words, and found nothing appropriate to the occasion.

“It’s another thing we should avoid, for a long while yet. But there are things the old archwizards didn’t think of. They were too arrogant, to comfortable, ensconced in a familiar and formulaic struggle. Top dogs don’t want to upset the cart. We need to think outside the box, and we have the advantage of a great deal of human experience, innovation and ideas they lacked. Once we manage to break the veil holding us from my predecessor’s libraries and the Archimagical College, we’ll also have all the knowledge of old. With all of that, and enough man and woman power to take advantage of it, I’m not sure of what limits we might have. What really scares me, beyond the practical problems we’ll face, is the thought of other archwizards, potentials or fully developed. The book’s guarantees aside, the idea of meeting others who have my potential, or have already plumbed that potential, makes me all cold.”

“Can you look them over before ‘uplifting’ them?” Chris asked.

“I doubt the book would let me,” I shrugged, trying telling her without words that ‘I have no idea’ and ‘think of something, on your own’ with my eyes. Chris lowered her lashes and stretched, writhing and twisting in ways that riveted my attention on something other than the far future. I cursed under my breath, as once again, mental arousal was not reciprocated down there. It simply wasn’t fair, having all this female wealth and a debilitating condition besides. I never thought I’d have cause to bless and curse wizardry, for the same thing, at the same time.

“Well,” I sighed, “lots to do before sleep, and I’m feeling a bit more alive. Not up to another heavy magic session, but alive,” I tottered to my feet and dripped my way to the towels. Chris, eyes closed, ummmhed in response, and chose to remain in the hot tub. My preference, as well, but there was only so much torture a guy could take.

I dried quickly, stretched the towel out and got out of there. I stopped to do some stretching, and actually heard some popping noises. On to the computer cubbyhole, bypassing the kitchen, as more girls were something to be avoided, here and now. With the book’s help, I prepared another list, and then began to deal with the daily message traffic, and yesterday’s as well. This time, I also remembered to order a credit card for Mickey, as well as a bike and the car she’d expressed preference for. Then I started investigating the Easthaven complex, typing in a blur, collating and saving information.

The owner of record was a holding company, in turn owned by a couple of business people of local repute, with significant shares by yet more companies. I built up that tree, but that path of investigation was probably the wrong bark up. That was all I managed, before another yawn attack stuck.

Enough was enough, and I tottered off to my room. A little magic ritual, and I was out.

I woke up even earlier than usual, and felt a bit hollow, somewhat depressed and not entirely well, despite the invigorating sleep. I was alone in bed. I began with stretches, and then went off to swim. An interminable length of time later, muscles began protesting, and I floated on my back, considering the schedule for today. First, primping and testing Kristen, and dropping her off at her place. Then, Chris and I would be at Paladin, until noon at the earliest. I didn’t need to go over my notes for my game, or add anything. I had enough prepared for several years of playing. Afternoon would be shopping, and I might as well get Trish something to wear beside what I found her in. Certainly, she was too tall for anything we had to fit her.

Rushing out of the pool, I dried quickly and went back to the computer room. I looked for and found a large mall and several more upscale shops near the hospital where Kristen’s ‘friends’ were convalescing, and dug into the hospital’s security. They had a map of the hospital on their website and very lenient visiting hours. I chose to prepare for two contingencies. The first, using their now deceased friend’s identity, was the simplest, and I prepared a driver’s license for ‘him’. That would work if they were not undergoing any treatment, and even more easily, if they were asleep. In case there were problems, I found a news picture of one of the hospital’s doctors, and printed a tag with the name of that selfsame doctor – who was currently suspended, as he was facing a big negligence suit. With a bit of work and a bit of magic, I’d look enough like him to fool casual acquaintances. Illusions were a handy resource. With the aid of digital camera, the tag was ready. I had excellent printing equipment, and was quite certain that money would never be a problem again. A second circle transmutation spell would turn any bit of paper into any bit of paper money. Nobody would be able to tell original from my creation, unless they managed to get their hands on two bills with the same serial number, and that was a chance I was willing to take. As long as I had access to toilet paper, I’d never lack for funds.

I thought about continuing my investigation into Easthaven, or creating some money out of paper, but did not particularly feel like working on either project. Instead, I started studying up on another second circle spell, one classified both as transmutation and energy manipulation, and designed to grant extra punch to something you threw. The transmutation part was particularly tricky, as it increased the density, hardness and mass of the object, and that required a lot of knowledge of materials. You needed to see and instantly assess the changes required, for the mental image part of the spell. The energy manipulation was much simpler, a variation on the breeze cantrip, adding momentum behind the projectile and directing it towards the target. With enough energy behind it, you could turn a thrown rock into something much nastier than a rifle propelled grenade.

With the spell’s three components, mental, verbal and somatic, set like a comfortable weight in my mind, I thought it was time to prepare breakfast, as the girls should awaken soon enough. Outside the windowless computer cubby, the sky was just starting to lighten, and as I padded over to the kitchen, I had a sudden craving for sweets. All the food we’d eaten was quite good and filling, but desserts had been fairly minimal, mostly grapes, fruit salad and such like. The last occasion when I’d eaten real sweets had been when Criss and Cross were talking to Kristen’s folk.

So instead of just picking some leftovers to eat, and possibly preparing some salads and more traditional breakfast foods, I baked a dozen or so cakes, using English cake moulds. To cater to a variety of tastes, I made three each of lemon, ginger, mocha, and chocolate cakes, using the simplest recipes I knew. While they were in the oven (40 minutes, 160⁰C), I made a list of what was needed to restock the food supplies, such as flour, sugar, yogurt, oil, garlic, ginger, honey, chocolate, eggs etc.. Idly, I wondered if Trish could cook – probably not, I decided, recalling Kris’ cheerleader comment. Then I brought a roll of toilet paper to the kitchen table, ate a bit, cast a few spells, and prepared everything for the cake toppings.

I heard them walk in, remarking about the wonderful smells. I didn’t bother to turn around. Was I feeling rejected? Hell, yes. But I’d gotten used to repressing emotions, as witnessed the fact that my little sister was still presumably breathing somewhere horsy and blessedly remote. Normally, no one would notice, but the girls had only been exposed to the new, post wizardry me, so they probably would. From experience, I knew I’d get over this childish snit. Distantly, I wondered how long it would take. Escaping Chris’ discerning eyes would be quite a challenge, certes.

They settled around the table, drinking and eating what I’d set out earlier, and drooling and slavering over the smells. Trish’s repetitive “Wow, he can really cook, and bake!” were quite annoying. The habit of unnecessarily repeating, again and again, something everyone had heard quite clearly, was a particular peeve of mine. It always felt so insulting, like the conversee was telling you “Well, you heard it once or twice, but it’s obvious that you don’t understand how truly and utterly remarkable it is, in this day and age, for a bush to have pretty pink flowers.” Well, either that, or it was a mark of advancing senility.

Mickey proved very helpful with the cakes, once they were done, silently helping me with everything, which made me feel much better. Focusing on Mickey also helped block out most of Trish’s chatter concerning how beautiful the house was, and how much she admired all the knickknacks my parents had hanging, laying, sitting or loitering all over the place. Little statues, larger statues, crystals, glass sculptures, paintings, cutesy dolls and other aborigine and foreign artwork. I like most of it myself, but it gave the house, large as it was, something of a cluttered feeling. My room was decorated with Escher prints, delightfully skewed paintings you could look at again and again, always seeing something different, something new, and a few movie posters, with the book the movie was based on just below, poster large and book-cover small. From Silence of the Lambs to Empire of the Sun, with the remainder in the library, as there was only so much wall space in a single room.

With the cakes cooling, Mickey and I joined the others at the table, filling plates. Chris had pushed the roll of toilet paper to a corner, obviously puzzled concerning its presence.

“You know, a girl could get used to this,” Trish stretched in her chair. “Your eyes are glowing,” she addressed me for the first time that morning.

I wasn’t surprised at that bit of news. I was very, very angry. Chris and Mickey noticed, and even Kristen stayed silent.

Trish waited for an answer to the question she’d never actually asked, then said, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I smiled at her with lips alone, and turned the roll of white toilet paper into a cloud of bills with a spell. “Now Kristen, if you’ll please join me. The money’s for the afternoon shopping. All fake, but even I can’t tell the difference.”

Kris looked apprehensive as I took her hand and led her to a sitting room, but calmed down when she learned that all I wanted was to see how well she’d learned her lines. The answer to which was, not bad at all.

“Now, Kris, if you’re not utterly certain that the tag fits, and you know it by heart, and exactly what it means, don’t use it. Fumbling, displaying ignorance instead of polish, is not what we’re trying to do here. Go for certain success, use full sentences, don’t mangle the English language, be polite, graceful, the works. That doesn’t mean you have to strangle your laughter, or be stilted. Be yourself, the self you want to be, and will be. Knowledgeable, serene, courteous, a citizen of the world who has seen it all before. Lady, not girl. Hell, tell you a secret,” I leaned over to her. “Half the time, that’s the way I think of you. And that’s without any effort. You’ll end up acting so well, you’ll forget it’s a role.”

Kris looked poleaxed for a moment, then thought for a moment, “But…”

“And a very nice butt it is,” I nodded somberly, “now you need to pick the right clothes. Chris is too used to thinking of you as soccer girl – have Mickey help you come up with something elegant, practice walking in front of the big mirror in the bathroom. Mickey can help you there, too. She can walk the walk, not just talk the talk,” I said in a corny accent. Now where did I pick up that line?

“How terribly hokey,” Kris wrinkled her nose and booed soundlessly.

“Anyway, do you want us to drop you off at your parents and pick you up when we’re done gaming, or will you drive yourself?”

“Ahem,” she considered for a moment, “If I’m dressing elegant, could we use the car?”

“Right you are,” I acknowledged, “we’ll drop you off. Don’t forget your phone. Never go anywhere without it.”

“Let’s go!” Kris rushed off to the kitchen, probably excited by the notion of dressing up and playing runway model. I rushed up after her, and caught up as she gathered breath before speaking to Mickey, leaning over her chair. I beat her to it.

“Mickey, Kristen needs some help. Since we’re using the car and dropping her off, you have less than an hour, so scoot.”

Mickey blinked, not really understanding, but allowed Kris to grab her hand and lead her away at a hustle.

“And have you decided what you’re going to do?” I asked Trish.

“Ah, no, not really. I tried calling my grandmother, she’s the only one I have, really,” she hunched, looking vulnerable and lost, “but there’s no answer. I’m worried about her, she’s old, and I don’t know who to call.”

“Ask Mickey to help,” Chris suggested, “According to Logan, she’s a computer wiz, not just an ordinary wizard like me and Kris, so she’ll probably manage to find someone to call. Local police, hospital, whatever.”

“I suppose,” Trish answered, looking dispirited.

“If you’re done with breakfast, you can go help Mickey with outfitting Kris,” I suggested, guessing that playing with clothes would cheer up a girl, alien creatures that they were.

It seemed that she was done and more than satisfied with breakfast, “If I ate like this half the time, I’d be a blimp in a week. Makes me wish I could do magic, just for that. Sure, I’ll help,” Trish shrugged and rose.

“No you don’t,” Chris demurred, after swallowing what she had in her mouth. “I sometimes feel mentally bloated, like all I’m doing is feeding this insatiable monster inside. I almost feel pregnant. It’s gruesome, what a wizard has to put up with in the food department. I can’t wait for more efficient digestion. This utterly sucks rotten eggs, even if the food is good. The first couple of times, it was sinful fun, but it gets to be horrid, like an IV tube leading directly to your stomach, and you need to spend at least six hours a day sitting and eating.”

“Ok, ok! Forget I said anything!” Trish raised her hands in surrender and fled the kitchen.

“Well, if that’s what you feel like, let’s wrap this little session up,” I told Chris. “You don’t need that much time to dress up, do you?”

“Nope, and I’m not going swimming, either, not after eating.”

“Perish the thought. How about some individual instruction, martial arts wise? We need to schedule time for physical activities. Hours of sitting and eating aren’t too healthy.”

“Sounds good,” Chris licked her lips suggestively. “Can’t wait for tomorrow’s ‘physical activities’,” she giggled.

We spent a mere five minutes stretching, and I led her through some basic strikes and blocks, having her attack me and showing her how they were used – incidentally dumping her ass on the mat a few times – and then attacking her, more slowly.

“Whoo, time!” Chris gasped, “I’m gonna catch a shower and dress. Later!”

She ran off to shower, and I went to order the groceries, using the list I’d compiled, before putting on some clothes and going to fetch Kris.

“Very nice,” I nodded approvingly as I looked at a bright eyed, smiling Kris. She was walking, under the critical guidance of Trish and Mickey, apparently getting used to heels, though they didn’t look particularly high. Her light brown skin looked almost luminous, under a shirt and wide pantaloons of warm amber and thin, breezy fabric, her eyebrows were more sharply defined, and I’d have thought she’d used makeup if I hadn’t recognized the sharpened colouring around her eyes as Mickey’s work. Spells as makeup, I shook my head in amusement. It worked well, and her eyes looked much larger, somehow, almost reminding me of those cute anime girls, and her brown hair seemed to have more life and brightness, looked fuller. If she was wearing anything beneath the wispy clothes, which somehow managed to cover everything, it wasn’t noticeable. Her feminine attributes, on the other hand, were appeared quite distinct beneath the cloth. She had a few bits of golden jewelry on, a necklace, a bracelet and a pair of diamond earrings. Kristen looked really good, and more importantly, happy. Even Trish seemed content, her worries forgotten for the moment.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Just the purse, we’ve loaded it,” Trish handed her a tiny purse, dark brown with gold scrollwork. “There, done.”

Loading a purse sounded a bit strange to my ears, but I chose not to comment. Kristen posed, looking at me for approval, and I nodded and clapped. “I wonder if your parents will even recognize you,” I commented.

We collected Chris, who’d put on a skirt and top of dark green and looked freshly scrubbed and vibrant, and I picked up my gaming laptop and paraphernalia.

We kissed Mickey goodbye – yes, all three of us, and not lightly, either, which had Trish looking at us cross-eyed – and trooped over to the car. Traffic was light on a Saturday morning, so taking Kristen home went particularly quickly and smoothly, and we stopped for some more goodbye kissing.

Kristen didn’t seem to lack confidence, but neither did she want to part from us, or so her groping and fervent lips signaled. I had to pry her off, and gave her behind a light spank.

“Come on, Kris, it’s just a few hours. We’ll call ahead. Try not to kill anyone, and don’t cast a spell if there’s any way to avoid doing so. Remember that you’re afraid to stay home, and don’t make your parents suspicious about me by talking too much about how wonderful I am,” I said blandly.

“Oh, you…,” Kris stuttered, raised a threatening fist, and whirled away, running off. Christine, on the other hand, was sufficiently amused to titter at her friend’s expression and reaction.

With little traffic, I didn’t need too much concentration to drive, so I talked with Chris about tactics, poking holes in her ideas.

“Try to concentrate on small unit tactics, see what the book suggests for an optimal grouping, be it three or half a score. It’ll be a while before we start fielding armies. See what implements we’ll be able to make, try reading standard mundane tactical manuals. Check for mundane supplies we can enhance, everything from claymores and grenades to…,”

“Claymore? Isn’t that a type of two-handed sword?” Chris quirked a brow in question.

“Yes, but it’s also a type of anti-personnel mine. Download some arms manufacturers’ prospectuses, Janes, anything you can think of. After you’re enhanced, you’ll be able to make much better use of data, so just try to locate and acquire as much of it as you can. Don’t try too hard to digest it all, just acquire familiarity with the terminology. If you can write up an introductory booklet of basic terms, that would be a big help. I mean,” I snorted, “Kris didn’t even know what ‘sentry’ means. Communication is vital, and we won’t always have time to stop and explain things.”

My words seemed to cheer Chris up, as she perked up and starting throwing out words and acronyms she hadn’t really understood, and I translated, to her edification and delight.

A few minutes later, and I was parking by the mall, and we walked up to Paladin, holding hands.