So as I said, my receipt of spells in the mail and figuring out that I can see the presence of spells with my apartment’s spellproofing (for reasons that are still mostly unclear, but can mostly be attributed to my Seer status) was another story.

So, now I’m qualified as a certified boogeyman of the non-baseline community. The equivalent of a baseline nightmare made real, although largely based in reality and not just fantastical creations (although one might successfully argue that I’m experiencing of all those fantastical creations as well).

This meant that while I wasn’t quite ready to understand, I was less cautious that I should have been.

The scroll in my mailbox was a surprise, but I had gotten used to encountering odd things since moving into this place. Honestly, I figured it was some kind of official documentation from either the wizard investigators or some such.

From what I gather, I was lucky to have waited to open it just outside my apartment.

My scream, from what I understand, was so loud that Warren’s acoustic dampener tried to kick in and failed. I honestly don’t remember even much beyond trying to open the scroll. Or rather, I remember a searing pain that flowed up my arm and through the rest of me like a bolt of lightning (something I have some experience with).

Except that this pain stuck around and tried getting to know my bone marrow, chatting up my blood cells, and groping my every nerve. To even describe the pain would be an understatement other than to say that it was pain on a scale that I hope never to feel again.

I practically collapsed when Lucy disintegrated the scroll out of my hand. [Which is to say that she disintegrated the part that I was holding.] I was surprised to find Warren and Lucy next to me, but given that I was recovering from whatever the spell was, I wasn’t surprised that I’d missed them arriving, time having no longer become a constant to me in my current state.

“What was that?” Warren asked.

“I don’t know, but it’s nothing good. That’s for sure,” Lucy said.

I was still dazed at this point.

“Let’s get him into his apartment and then figure out how to pick that… thing up,” Warren recommended.

I was in no position to object as Lucy picked me up and carried me into my apartment.

In my dazed state, I was watching Lucy as a kind of constant. Believe me, it’s weird to be picked up and carried like a bride by an Amazonian like Lucy, but I wasn’t about to object.

“You’re sparkly…” I mumbled as we entered the apartment.

Lucy blinked.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“When we came in… you sparkled for a second,” I managed.

“You must be having some kind of aftereffect of whatever that was,” she said, setting me down on my couch.

Warren was still standing at the door.

“So how do we collect this without touching it?” he prompted.

“I’ll take it,” came an unexpected elderly voice. It was the little old lady vampire from downstairs. “I’m pretty magic resistant, so if it’s not specific, I shouldn’t be affected.”

It took her a moment to finish climbing the stairs, but she stepped authoritatively up to the fallen remainder of the scroll and picked it up. Some of the residual magic appeared to crackle at her fingers, but it seemed to die there, as a tesla coil finding a connection in which to earth itself.

According to Warren, he saw her flinch slightly at it before grimacing.

“That’s a death spell. Rather painful one at that. Someone wanted our Seer dead,” she said, rather matter of factly. “Good thing I picked this up. It’ll work on anyone while it’s open.”

“But it doesn’t seem to be affecting you,” Lucy remarked.

“Well, anyone alive, dearie. I’m not exactly alive and death magic where vampires are concerned is practically extinct,” the old lady said, smiling slightly, her fangs evident.

“Will he be ok?” Warren asked in his plain tones.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The old lady took a long sniff and looked at the scroll again.

“I’m not sure. It didn’t finish, so that’s a point in his favor, but I can’t say whether he’ll survive it,” she said.

“What can we do?” Lucy wasn’t anxious, but there were definitely telltales of it in her voice.

“Send for Mitch. This is his area. If I can get a sample of his blood to taste, I can tell you more about what damage has been done,” she said.

I was definitely ok with sending for Mitch, the cleric, but even in my dazed state, I wasn’t thrilled about giving the vampire any of my blood.

“It’s ok, dearie. I just need about a teaspoonful. I’m a resident of this place too and I’ve no interest in getting kicked out,” she said, apparently noting my concern.

I pressed for us to wait until Mitch showed up. This seemed acceptable to everyone. However, I noted, as the old lady came in, the spellproofing barrier seemed to erupt in a shower of red sparks, centered on the scroll in her hand.

“Sparks…” I said, it still hurting to even contemplate moving.

“What’s that, dearie?” she asked.

“He said something about seeing sparks when I brought him in,” Lucy suggested.

“Hmm… might be some aftereffect that I’m unfamiliar with. Shouldn’t be anything to do with the spell though. But I can’t say that I know anything about Seers. Before my time,” the old lady said.

We sat (well, I was laying) in quiet while Warren called Mitch to get him over immediately.

“So who might do this?” Lucy asked, pointing at the scroll.

“No one local. The runes are South American formulation,” the old lady said, glancing at the scroll again, still not having put it down.

“Do you really need to hold it?” Warren asked, as he hung up.

“Best if I hold onto it. I might be all that keeps it from going off some more, especially since we’re inside the barrier now,” the old lady said, gesturing around the apartment.

There was nothing said further about her holding onto it.

“South American formulation?” Warren prompted after a few quiet moments.

“Yes. They have a particular runic pattern. Something the wizards will have to narrow down, but given the materials involved in making this, it will either be exceptionally easy or unimaginably hard to locate who did this,” the old lady vampire murmured.

Before anyone could ask what she meant, Mitch turned up outside the door, his face red and being clearly out of breath. I waved for him to enter and he did so, coming straight over to me. His small bag sparkling a bit as he did so.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Got a scroll. Someone not like me,” I mumbled, and pointed in the direction of the old woman.

Mitch looked over and she held up the remains of the scroll, the designs clearly visible on what remained. He frowned and his beard seemed to frown with it, if a beard could seem to have its own… mood.

“I’m going to run a fast scan on you,” he said, reaching into his pack and pulling out a small tube. It was covered in glowing runes, but looked more like a party light stick than medical equipment.

I wasn’t going to object and given that I had three other tenants there with me, I’m not sure I could have done anything to object.

Mitch clicked the tube and began to wave it over me for a few moments.

“Didn’t realize this was Star Trek,” I smiled slightly.

“What’s that?” Mitch asked, somewhat engrossed in what he was doing.

“Tricorder,” I said, nodding at the tube.

It took a moment before he took my meaning, but he smiled slightly at it, even if his beard remained frowned.

“Not quite, but something on that order,” he said, finishing and start looking at the tube for what I presumed were the results.

“Well, it doesn’t appear to have left anything other than traces. Whomever did that knew what they were doing,” Mitch said.

“Get me a little of his blood. Maybe that will tell me more,” the old lady chimed in.

Mitch didn’t even hesitate for a moment, his fingers diving back into his pack and pulling out a standard 10cc syringe. He wasted no time in finding a vein and filling the syringe with barely a drop of blood left on my skin (which he covered with a small bandage immediately).

The old lady vampire took the syringe and injected it into her mouth. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still seemed to freak Lucy and Warren out at seeing it. I was still too out of it to really register all of what I was seeing and processing. A bit like having had one whiskey too many.

She seemed to shift it around her mouth as a sommelier might with a fine wine or whiskey. Less of a drink and far more of clearly processing whatever she was tasting (although for a vampire, I found out later that tasting is just the start).

“Intracellular damage. Not excessive, but definitely enough that he’ll be sick or sore for a few days. Strange though,” she said.

“What is?” Warren prompted, still flatly, as though this might have been a common occurrence.

“Normally I can taste the iron. In this, I can barely taste it. It’s like missing salt or having far too little salt. And I’m not certain if it’s the spell that did this or not,” she said.

“Well, I can at least fix that,” Mitch said, pulling out another syringe, although this one appeared to be slightly glowing.

“What’s dat?” I asked, still processing at a much slower rate.

“A regenerative. It’ll help repair whatever damage was done. You’ll still end up being sore though,” he said.

“Sokay… I’ve got sick days,” I mumbled.

Without a moment more, Mitch stuck me with the glowing syringe and injected me with something that, instead of being cold, was quite warm instead.

A few hours later, the wizard investigators turned up. All three of them. I was not impressed, but I waved them in and they took the scroll, without touching it, into a kind of anti-magic container. The lead, her face no less firm than the first time we met, said that this would be pursued and the creator punished to the fullest extent.

When I asked what that meant, she simply said that deathspells, regardless of their target, were illegal and users were sentenced to 100-fold equivalent pain. Given how my nerves and muscles felt at the moment, I was in no position to object, even if I did find such a punishment to be barbaric.

And that was my first and hopefully last introduction to getting spells in the mail.

And while the last few days have been even more interesting, they don’t involve my role as a Seer. At least not directly.

No, my next tale (or tail if you prefer the pun) is about two days ago, when Warren had some… family (I guess that’s what you could call them) come to visit.