Science and Sorcery (17 page)

The President shook his head in disbelief.  “How the hell does that even work?”

“The scientists are still trying to figure it out, working mainly from theory,” Caitlyn explained.  “Their best guess is that a wizard can snatch a glimpse at the most likely future, but not the one destined to happen, because he can change the future with a little forethought.  An alternate explanation is that they see multiple futures and know how to work towards the one they want.  Everything gets a little...funny at that point.”

“Great,” the General said.  “How long is it going to be before Russia or China or the goddamned Taliban start using magic against us?”

“The Taliban has killed several people it accused of being Changed,” Caitlyn pointed out.  “So did the Government of Afghanistan, or at least it looked the other way when they were killed.  It might be a long time before they embrace magic...”

“I have seen terrorist scum, fighting in the name of Islam, get drugged up before going out to die,” the General said, bluntly.  “I have seen them drink, or force women into marriage, or prostitution, all forbidden by Islamic Law.  What makes you think that they will choose to ignore or kill a terrorist who discovers that he has the ability to teleport a bomb into this building?  It is much more likely that they will make use of him.”

“We are pushing ahead to learn how to cast wards as quickly as possible,” Caitlyn said.  She didn't mention the fact that Golem had suggested that she should learn too, as if she could dump all the paperwork and start studying magic.  She wasn't even sure what her talent was, or if it was anything useful.  “And we hope to have trained magicians working for the country soon.”

“I hope so,” the General said.  “What do you intend to do about the vampire in New York?”

Caitlyn scowled.  The FBI had taken the case from the NYPD and then dumped it in her lap.  It hadn't stopped various policemen from carrying stakes in the hopes of running into the vampire, but the autopsy had suggested that the vampire was immensely strong.  A policeman who ran into it might wind up dead, or undead.  If the vampires
were
undead.  And if they failed to catch the vampire quickly, someone like Whitehall would start making political capital out of the whole affair.

“I’m sending a team of experts to New York to deal with the situation,” she said finally, and prayed that they wouldn't ask too many questions.  The only people she could really send were Matt – and Golem.  Golem was the closest thing to an expert they had and Matt has his Hunter skills.  In the absence of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it was the best they could do.  “We should be able to kill the vampire.”

The President gave her a sharp look, but changed the subject.  “Do we need to make tougher laws?”

Caitlyn took a breath.  “I think that we have to acknowledge that great power needs great responsibility – and not everyone blessed or cursed by magic is going to have it,” she said.  Quite apart from those who had been Changed, and therefore not entirely responsible for their actions, the law of averages suggested that the
mana
would touch a few oddballs as it grew stronger.  Some of them might be outright evil
before
the
mana
transformed them into magicians.  “The problem remains building a legal framework that can handle it.”

The President’s Legal Advisor leaned forward.  “Writing legislation in the heat of the moment tends to cause problems later,” he said.  “The teacher from New York who defended herself; how can we say, given what was at stake, that she didn't do the right thing?”

Caitlyn winced.  She’d interviewed Misty Reynolds and had to agree that there had been no choice, although Misty hadn't known what she was until the magic came to life.  But that hadn't stopped some of the talking heads whining about how it hadn't been
fair
.  The more thoughtful ones pointed out that while
she
had been right, others might massively overreact to a more innocent situation. 

And then there was the problem of
enforcing
any laws.  Golem had made it clear that most sorcerers had been vastly more powerful than Misty Reynolds.  If one of
them
had decided to destroy half a city, very few people could have stopped him, if they’d even cared to try.  Now, the first sorcerer to appear might have an unbeatable advantage. 

What was the old joke?  A five thousand pound gorilla could sit wherever it wanted to sit, which was pretty unfortunate for anyone
under
the gorilla when it sat down. 

“We're still working on it,” she said, finally.  “Right now, we don’t have the ability to
prove
that magic was used in most cases.  If we start banning it, we just make it clear that we
can't
stop it – and convince new magicians that they have to hide from the government.  We need to get them working with us instead.”

“Whitehall won’t like that,” the President observed.  “And nor will the population, according to the polls.”

“Mr. President,” Caitlyn said carefully, “I understand your concerns, but we don't have the knowledge we need to move ahead.  Not yet.”

“I know,” the President said.  “But time is running out.”

Chapter Seventeen

New York, USA

Day 17

“Moe Levisohn was a credit to the school,” the principal droned.  “He was a skilled player on the football field, winner of two awards...”

Calvin tuned him out as the principal continued to blether about how wonderful Moe had been.  If he’d been all
that
wonderful, surely the principal would have insisted on holding the special assembly the day they went back to school, instead of waiting several days.  The charitable part of his mind pointed out that the principal had to deal with the fallout from Gavin’s assault on Coach Thornton, but he dismissed it angrily.  He’d tried to complain to the principal about how Moe treated him, only to be brushed away. 

He scowled at the picture of Moe someone had blown up to life-size and placed at the front of the hall.  It would have been easy to unleash a burst of magic and destroy it, or incinerate half the room, but he held the impulse under firm control.  Harrow had pointed out that his magic would attract attention, perhaps from mages who had already gone to work for the government.  He was not – yet – invincible.  Besides, Sandra was sitting only seven chairs away from him and
she
seemed to be sensitive to magic.

Calvin eyed her thoughtfully, considering.  As far as he could tell, she didn't seem to be capable of what Harrow called  Projective Magic, unlike him.  There was no sense that she could cast spells for herself, although Harrow had warned him that didn't mean anything.  A mage with sufficient training and practice would be able to contain the
mana
to the point where his true nature would be almost undetectable  Or maybe Sandra had yet to come into her powers.  Calvin looked back at the principal and yawned as the moron kept blathering on, and on, and on.  Who would have thought that someone could say so little in so many words?

The assembly lasted for nearly an hour, with a handful of people standing up to talk about Moe and his cronies.  Shirley, who had been Moe’s girlfriend when he died, spoke briefly about how well he’d treated her.  Calvin noted that she didn't look particularly upset and drew his own conclusions.  Coach Thornton took the stage and told everyone how wonderful Moe had been as a sportsman and that he might have gone professional one day.  Calvin already knew it; his sporting skills were what had kept him immune to punishment for his misdeeds.  Besides, Coach Thornton made it sound like Moe’s death had been a world-class disaster.  It wasn't as if Moe had been the reincarnation of Babe Ruth! 

“Please think a little on Moe before you sleep,” the principal concluded.  Calvin
did
; he thought about how Moe had died, and how it had been his first taste of real power.  “And now we have a safety announcement from the NYPD.”

He picked up a sheet of paper as Calvin leaned forward, interested for the first time since the sanctimonious bastard had started babbling about Moe without mentioning all of his flaws.

“As you will have heard,” the principal said, “there was a confirmed vampire attack in New York City.  Two people were murdered, one apparently drained completely of blood.  The NYPD has warned people to remember all the details of vampire lore and to remain inside after sunset.”

Calvin concealed a smile.  His father had had a great deal to say about the vampire attacks, pointing to it as yet another failure of the Mayor’s anti-gun policy.  Calvin couldn't see how one led to the other, but he’d said nothing as his father spoke about the newly-formed pressure group that would demand a relaxation on gun laws, or recall the Mayor and throw him out of office.  A vampire would keep attention away from Calvin’s own activities.  More practically, he’d cast a handful of runes around the house that – according to Harrow – would work far better than garlic and prayer at keeping vampires out.

“You are requested to keep an eye on your schoolmates and report any signs of supernatural abilities to your teachers,” the headmaster continued.  “Should you provide information leading to the vampire, you will be rewarded from a contingency fund the Mayor has set up to reward informers.”

Bastard
, Calvin thought.  He could just imagine what was likely to happen; he’d be reported, purely for being an isolated nerd, someone who had never fitted in with his peers.  The NYPD would take a look at him for all the wrong reasons, but that wouldn't save him from discovery.  Harrow had taught him how to conceal himself, yet she’d warned that it needed practice.  It didn’t help that he had no one to practice on. 

“I would ask you to spend the next twenty minutes in contemplation,” the principal concluded.  The assembly in Moe’s honour had swallowed up the first period anyway.  “Thank you for attending.”

Calvin stood up with the rest of the students and made his escape to the library.  Normally, it served as a place of refuge, where he could throw himself headlong into fictional worlds that didn't include bullies and assholes who thought that raw strength made them better than everyone else, but Harrow had been urging him to study the modern world.  He hadn't realised how ignorant he was about some things until Harrow had started pulling concepts from his mind.  Entering the library, he nodded to the librarian – he hadn't bothered to attend the assembly, surprisingly – and walked over to the row of books on history.  Selecting one, he carried it back to a seat and sat down to read.  He’d already concluded that Harrow’s time was so far back in the past that nothing survived, apart from myths and legends.  And those that had been told throughout the ages were badly garbled. 

He was immersed in a book about the Persian invasion of Greece when he heard several girls chattering in one corner.  Looking up, he saw Marie and two of her girlfriends, dressed in surprisingly sober clothes.  Maybe they’d intended to be decent for the assembly – he guessed that Moe’s parents had held a very limited funeral for the bastard – but it didn't stop a hot flush spreading through his body.  He had watched them undressing and preparing for bed, rotating his spell so he could study every inch of their bodies.  And he had watched one of them making out with her boyfriend.   And he wanted more.

Later
, Harrow’s voice said, in his mind.  He’d taken to hearing her more and more during his waking hours, although he wasn’t sure if she was real, or if he was just imagining it.  She had said that she was growing stronger all the time, allowing her mind to roam further from wherever she was imprisoned. 
You do not wish to attract attention
.

Calvin hesitated.  He knew spells for meddling with minds, spells that could make the girls fall in love with him, or simply do everything he told them to do.  The temptation danced in front of his mind for a long moment; why shouldn't he treat them as slaves, when they’d treated him worse?  But Harrow was right.  Two magical incidents in the same school would draw attention.  He’d have to be very careful the next time he used his powers so overtly. 

The bell rang and he stood up, returning the book to the shelves.  It was difficult to tell, but it looked as though there had been traces of
mana
still in the world at the time, given the existence of oracles and even magician-priests.  And that didn't include legends of Achilles or Hercules...Harrow had found them amusing, although Calvin hadn't been able to understand why until he’d looked at some of the really old stories.  Marvel Comics had created a version of Thor that was a joke, compared to the terrible gods of old.  Harrow had lived far closer to their era than anyone in the modern world.  The gods, she’d said, had been creatures of raw chaos, driven by whims.  They could never be trusted.

Calvin was so wrapped up in his own thoughts as he walked to the next classroom that he was surprised when a hand shoved him into the wall.  He started, running through the disciplines that Harrow had taught him to master pain, just as a fist slammed into his belly.  Colin, one of Moe’s friends, stared down at him, mockingly.

“I saw you smile during assembly,” he said, nastily.  “How dare you smile when my friend died?”

Calvin would have snorted, if he’d had enough breath left in his chest.  Colin was just like Moe and all the others; any excuse would do to beat up on someone, or perhaps he simply wouldn't bother with an excuse if none seemed available.  He glanced around quickly, seeing no one; even if he had, no one would come to his aid.  Colin was big and strong and nasty...and Calvin was just a nerd.  Who cared what happened to a nerd?

He could have killed Colin easily, he knew.  The power that had incinerated three of his enemies rose up within him, brushing aside the pain.  But a fourth student dying in fire...he might as well have put up an advertisement, daring the NYPD to catch him.  Colin gripped his neck, threatening to strangle him, and stared into Calvin’s eyes.  And it was the easiest thing in the world for Calvin to reach out with a different spell and assert dominance over the bully.  He had a very weak mind.

Calvin fought down the temptation to
really
fuck with Colin’s mind.  “Listen,” he hissed, as Colin’s grip on his throat eased.  “You will carry out these orders.  Every day, you will find one of your friends and beat him up.  You will hit him until he is bruised, and then leave him lying on the ground.  No one will be allowed to stop you.  You will forget that I have given you these orders, but you will carry them out.  Oh, and you will never touch me again.”

He watched as Colin stumbled backwards, his eyes slightly defocused  The spell was used for slamming suggestions into a person’s head, according to Harrow, but it did have its weaknesses.  Someone with a thoughtful bent would start questioning their own actions, eventually breaking the spell completely, even if they didn't realise what had happened to them.  But Colin, like Moe, wasn't exactly known for his smarts.  He’d keep beating up his friends unless physically restrained by the NYPD.

Unwise
, Harrow’s voice said, as he walked away.  Colin would be back to normal, at least on the surface, within seconds. 
His actions may attract attention
.

Calvin snorted.  “One bully beating up others?”  He asked, quietly.  “No one will think anything of it.”

The maths classroom was, as always, crammed with students.  For some reason, probably something to do with money, the school had never been able to hire more than a couple of mathematics teachers, forcing them both to take oversized classes.  Naturally, their ability to keep discipline was very limited.  Calvin sat at the front, knowing that it wasn't enough to save him from spit balls and other nasty tricks, and tried to read his textbook.  His thoughts were elsewhere.

Lunch came and Calvin struggled his way through it, before returning to the library again and trying to read.  Unsurprisingly, some of the other nerds were also in the library, discussing role-playing games at great volume.  They should have been his friends, Calvin knew, but he had been Moe’s punching bag.  No one had wanted to be too close to him, for fear that the scent of helpless pussy – or whatever – would rub off on them. 

“This wizard casts a cool spell to summon entities made of shadow,” one of the nerds said.  “Maybe we can get
that
to work.”

Calvin felt a moment of absolute disbelief, before cursing himself for not having thought of it first.  There were thousands of different fantasy role-playing games involving magic and magical creatures – and if anyone would try to get their spells to work, it would be the nerds who played them regularly.  Calvin was hardly the only one to be picked on by ignorant jocks who valued strength over brains.  Maybe he could teach them a few simple spells...

No
, Harrow said, firmly. 
You need to concentrate on your primary mission.  After that, you may seek out apprentices if you wish
.

“I could get them to distract anyone who might be interested in us,” Colin subvocalised.  “If they start casting spells too...”

It will attract attention
, Harrow said. 
Patience.

Calvin scowled, but obeyed.  He was grateful to Harrow, even though there were times when it was clear that she had come from a very different culture.  And besides, if he started sharing what he knew, other magicians would have a chance to match or even surpass him.  It  might be nice to have proper friends, particularly if he taught them a bully-repelling ward, but it could wait.  After she was released, Calvin could do whatever he wanted.  And if that happened to include having friends...

He skimmed through the rest of the history book, glancing at the pages.  Harrow, he knew, could pull memories out of his mind, even if he wasn't truly aware of them.  Besides, he had a suspicion that there were few threads between Harrow’s time and the modern day.  Why, the book he'd consulted for legends of Atlantis, once the magical capital of the world and home to thousands of magicians, placed it somewhere near Greece.  The author didn't seem to have considered that it might be somewhere in the Atlantic, dominating the trade routes between Europe and North America.  And now it was gone, buried so deeply beneath the waves that the ruins had never been discovered.