Hazardous Goods (Arcane Transport) (20 page)

“We’ve been sent down to make sure everything’s alright.”

Both were smiling as they entered the room, but the smiles faded as Harper took them aside in the second row of seats and began to whisper to them.

For a moment I wondered whether the other guests were beginning to feel left out, then I heard a roar of laughter upstairs, followed by Harold’s voice objecting to Jamar’s telling of past adventures. Seemed they were holding down the fort.

“Do you mind picking it up again?”

“Thanks a lot.” I smiled wryly. Now I was the subject of a science experiment.

I found myself wincing as I reached out to the pot, convinced that this time it would feel like I had stuck my finger in a light socket. I tensed, then stabbed out clumsily to grab it. Probably looked like an idiot in the process, but no damage done.

“Nothing?”

“Nope. Not a thing. Just feels like an ordinary pot.”

“It’s like in that lady’s house.” That was Ted, speaking up from his consultation with Harper.

“Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

The others stared back with blank faces, so Ted explained the incident up North, and how we had been fortunate to avoid Crazy Lady Lucas’ wrath. My mother’s face settled into a familiar expression – livid anger.

“That sounds pretty serious.” Clay spoke up, the voice of reason.

“Yeah. Sorry, we didn’t expect anything like that. We just got back last night. No real harm done, though.” I gave Ted a quick warning glance. If he mention the fire or the cops, I would beat his ass.

“Still, that sounds like a lot heavier magic than a protective spell, or a love potion.” That was Sol speaking, but a lot of heads were nodding in response.

“Maybe its because I’m new to Arcane? Or maybe it’s the
type
of magic?”

Silence. OK, so maybe neither was a great theory. They could at least act supportive. Geez.

“Or— Oh! I’ve been carrying around a lucky charm, the one from the office.” I pulled out the leper coin and the tiger’s eye stone from my pocket, and handed Clay the coin. “Maybe it’s been protecting me.”

That seemed logical. Certainly Ted was nodding in agreement. But everyone else was giving me a skeptical look.

“That coin is strictly playtime, Donnie. Might even be classified as inert.” Clay was up and leaning on the back of the chair in front of him, energized by the discussion. “What Ted described, that’s
serious
mojo.”

Hm.

“AAAACHHOOOOO!”

I almost fell off the stool, and Clay looked like he was going to have another heart attack.

“Sorry about that.”

“Bless you.” That was from Harper.

“Don’t do that again. Tsk.” And that was from my mother.

“Uh, where were we? No, it’s almost as if you’re
protected
, or
immune
. It’s like the magic can’t affect you. Unless you’re wielding some heavy duty magic yourself.”

Yeah, right.

“Assuming there even
is
such a thing as magic, why wouldn’t it affect Donnie-boy the same way it does everyone else?” I’m sure Ted’s cynical tone wasn’t making him any friends, but it was a good question.

“I have no idea. Huguette? Any thoughts?”

I realized then that my mother had been very quiet throughout this entire turn of events. For my mother, quiet was uncharacteristic. Even now, she remained seated in the front row of theatre seats, watching the discussion as though observing a lecture.

“Well, we suspected
something
was different when they were very young.”

“We did?” Ted and I spoke out in unison. I might also have queried the word “they”.

“Well, your father and I. From time to time one of his friends would give you a special gift for a birthday or for Christmas. Say a teddy bear that could say your name. But you and your brother, the gifts never worked for you. It seemed a strange coincidence. But it never occurred to us that magic might not work around you
at all
.”

“Maybe the batteries weren’t working.”

“These weren’t battery operated.”

“Oh. Then why wouldn’t they work?”

“It’s like magic is... désamorcer?” She looked at Ted and I, but we drew a blank. Count on Sol, however.

“Defused.”

“Yes. It seems to be
defused
when you are nearby.”

“Me, anyways. I’m not sure about you.” I was looking at Ted.

“Thanks. You make me sound like I should be riding the short bus.”

That
brought a scowl to my mother’s face. Sol stepped in, apparently willing to risk the wrath of the she-beast.

“Listen, for all we know, a great many people react to magic in this way. The fact is, much of the world has never seen magic employed. It’s just that, well, you would think we would have seen
some
example of this before.”

I was thinking through what I had heard over the past few minutes.

“So you’re saying I can’t use magic, and no one can use magic against me?”

Clay seemed to flinch at that, and spoke up from his chair. “I wouldn’t be too quick to assume that. We don’t know that others can’t use magic against you.”

My mother joined in. “There are some very powerful people out there. You can’t just suppose that they cannot do anything to you.”

And why would my mother know anything about that? This whole day had gone sideways into some weird dimension.

“It does make for an interesting situation, though.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Ted’s mood and manner were degenerating rapidly.

“Well, it’s just ironic that Donnie has ended up working with Clay here. I mean, a courier business for magic items!”

I suppose it
was
somewhat ironic, but Professor Irving seemed inordinately pleased with the point. Maybe it was the look on my face, but he seemed to realize further explanation was warranted.

“It was not unusual in ancient times for couriers to be illiterate. In fact, it was desirable. The nobility could rest easy knowing that the person delivering a document could not understand its contents. There is a parallel here. If it is true that you’re not able to
use
magic, then you’re well suited to transport magic goods for others. The fact that others may not even be able to use magic
against you
makes you even more fitting for the role.”

Did he just call me illiterate?

“Bit of a strange coincidence, don’t you think?” I don’t know whether I was directing my comments at someone in the room, or the world at large.

“That’s what worries me,” said my mother, and I knew what she was going to say next. “There
are
no coincidences.”

The ride back to my place was a quiet one. Ted closed his eyes and seemed to be napping, possibly a consequence of his “one for you, one for me” policy while tending the bar. My mother stared out the window in silence. And I considered my last few weeks.

I had a lot of questions, and no answers. Why did magic appear not to affect me? What did Niki the Bull have to do with Maxim and Elena Legenko? How could I help Jamar out? Where did the tiger’s eye come from? Should I make a move on Amy or Kara? Could I hope for Amy
and
Kara? Could I keep Arcane afloat, or was I going to run it into the ground?’

The questions flitted in and out, like mosquitoes drawing blood then racing off to be replaced by their brethren.

No one said a word until we were ensconced in the apartment. I was grabbing a beer from the fridge when my mother spoke up.

“We should talk.”

I glanced around the corner, just in time to see her settle into the sofa with a swoop of her coat. Ted observed this with a leery look on his face, as though doubtful of her intentions.

She gazed up at me, and I could see that her normally terse mouth and stern eyes were somehow softer, a look of concern taking their place. It’s funny. We spoke most days, visited at least weekly, but seldom ever
focused
on one another.

“Do you have any wine?”

Ted was seated on the other side of the sofa, leaning away from her. I flashed the Sleemans label at him, and he nodded.

I am by no means a wine hound. We kept a bottle or two of red in the apartment for guests, but more often in case we needed to bring something to a party or a friend’s place. Come to think of it, that would have been a sensible thing to do for the visit to Clay’s place. Duh.

The wine selection process was very simple. I just walk into the local Vintages and pick something I’ve never had off the shelf. Sometimes I’ll read the little review cards below the bottles, but more often than not I’ll just go for it. The result is that sometimes I pick real crap, other times I look like a wine genius.

I pulled the nicest, or perhaps more accurately, the most expensive – a Barbaresco – Dante Rivetti 1997. Fumbled through the utensil drawer until I found the opener, and worked the cork out. I then did something that would cause many a vintner to cringe, or crush me like a grape. Without decanting or even allowing it to air, I filled a tall narrow glass to just below the rim. At least it was stemware.

I didn’t think my mother would care, and I was right.

The three of us sipped at our drinks in quiet for a moment, then she broke the silence.

“What is this about a love potion?”

Great. What better place to start.

I walked her and Ted through my first few weeks at work. The robbery, most of which they had already heard. I gave her the PG-13 version of the story about the love potion, embarrassing as that was to discuss with my mother. Jamar’s ring, the tiger’s eye stone, even what I had been able to find out about Niki the Bull and his connections to Ruscan Industries.

“So you have this fearstone on you?”

“Yep.” I pulled it from my pocket and dropped it on the table, with the leper coin beside it. She picked up each, one at a time, and studied them as though through a jeweler’s loupe. I noticed that she held the coin like I would hold any common object, calmly turning it in her hand to read both sides and study the simple stampings. The tiger’s egg was another story. That she picked up with her thumb and forefinger, as though mimicking the gesture of picking up a tea cup. And she held it at arm’s reach.

Ted leaned forward to examine both as well, but when he reached out to pick up the stone she slapped his hand away. It was a true déjà vu moment – the exact motion she would use when we were kids, to keep us from grabbing a warm cookie off the baking tray. Ted’s reaction was a déjà vu moment as well. He slumped back in the sofa with his lower lip jutting out, just as it had when he was a tyke. Déjà two.

God, we were dysfunctional.

“This stone worked with your friends at the office?”

“Yup. Ted, too.”

“What? No it didn’t.”

I debated telling them the whole story, but thought better of it. He would be pissed I hadn’t told him. And her? Well, she would either be heartbroken or proud.

“When you were sleeping last night.”

“It isn’t working now.” My mother still held it in her hands.

“I know. It’s weird. With others, if I was far enough away from the stone, it would activate. With Ted it only happened when he was sleeping.”

“So it may not be working because you are close to us?”

“I think so. Don’t know for sure.”

“What did people see? Images, or something concrete?”

“They were real. I could touch them. Didn’t seem dangerous, though. Might move around, but it seemed to me that the illusion was the scary part.”

“Why don’t you move back, to the wall there.”

I stared at her for a moment. I wasn’t liking this at all. But the look on her face suggested that this was not a request.

I gestured to Ted, and he slipped off the sofa and joined me. The two of us then backed away several feet. Nothing, so we backed up a few more.

And the stone began to glow. The air before my mother rippled, then
flash
.

A man stood before her. Tall, slim, brown hair and beard salted with gray. He was taller than Ted, maybe six three. Wearing a tuxedo, of all things.

Ted and I slid along the wall to get a better look at the man, and in the process we were able to see my mother’s expression. Her eyes were round with fear, mouth open and lip trembling. I sensed revulsion as well, in the way she hunched her shoulders and leaned back into the cushions. She was terrified.

So I cut the experiment short. I stepped forward and snatched the stone from her hand, causing the illusion to dissolve before our eyes.

“
Mon Dieu
.”

I said nothing, but Ted returned to the sofa, this time by her side. She was wringing her hands, but her breathing slowed and her shoulders dropped.

“Who was that?”

She didn’t answer Ted, just shaking her head as if to deny him or the illusion we had just observed.

“Give me that thing.”

I glared at Ted, determined not to have another member of my family go through with this nonsense. But the look on his face brooked no argument, and my mother stood and joined my side.

“Give it to him, Darnell. We must see what happens.”

Great. My mother was about to discover that her youngest son’s greatest fear was a conversation with her. I sensed years of therapy in the offing. Still, there was no sense in arguing. Two of the three most stubborn people I know had set their minds on this path.

I laid the stone on the coffee table, and my mother and I backed to the spot where I had observed the previous illusion. Ted reached out and picked up the stone, tentative at first, but then flipping it in the air like a coin. He tossed it from hand to hand, and my mother let out a sigh of exasperation.

Nothing.

“Huh. Maybe I’m still too close.” I walked past the sofa, my mother’s heels clacking as she followed me down the hall towards the bathroom. We turned, now twice the distance we had been before.

Now Ted was rolling the stone over his knuckles. I stepped into my bedroom and moved to the far wall.

“Anything?”

My mother peered at Ted. “Nothing.”