I reluctantly left Ida and approached the magical SWAT team (I should think of a funnier name for them. Earth Defense Force? The Z Warriors—no. I’d probably end up being Yamcha. Uh… Dr. Strange and the Funky Bunch? Oo, if one of them can multiply I can paint him blue and call them the Watchmen. Thank God no one can listen in to this bullshit with the amulet on.), tightening some of the straps on the Mantle for a better fit. Albright was staring into the middle distance, which made me assume he was doing something psychicky.

The big guy wearing the knight helmet regarded me as I approached. “The boss says you’re coming along. What do you bring to the table?” He had a voice like a warm blanket that was also somehow a revving diesel engine. Comforting, deep and powerful.

“I’m strong and somewhat durable,” I said, pointing at the Prius. “I could probably rip one of the doors off that without much effort, but being hit by the car itself would pose a problem. I’ve mastered a general telekinesis spell with Circe’s Method, am rather good at wards and stationary magic, or whatever you call magic that you engrave or write on a surface—“

“Thaumagraphy,” supplied the other large dude. He was wearing a backward baseball cap (black, like his armor) and possessed a chin that could fit snugly into some parts of the Grand Canyon.

“Yeah, that,” I said, filing that word away. “I have some combat experience, I know my way around a gun, and—“

“One spell?” Another of the group cut in. He was of a height with Albright, but much slimmer. Unlike the rest of the crew, his chest piece wasn’t a breastplate like the others, but was segmented and more form-fitting.

“I know others, but can’t cast them safely—“ I began, before being interrupted by the same guy.

“Why the fuck are we bringing a civvie?” He said to the group, turning away from me in a clear dismissal.

Should I be irritated? I feel like I should be. I glanced at Ida, who rolled her eyes before mouthing “be calm.”

“Boss said to,” said Big Chin.

“I’m not babysitting no civvie,” Asshole said, to no one in particular.

“I’d be surprised if you did,” said the lady who had helped Alice. “Being our forward scout and all. And what with how we never see you until the end of a fight.”

“I take out the back line!” Asshole said with some heat.

They continued to bicker while the big guy with the helmet regarded me silently. No one seemed interested in finding out what else I had to say so I put my hands in my pockets and tried not to look in the direction of the warehouse. I’d have to, eventually—hell, I’ll have to go in there whenever Albright comes back from his daydream.

The only people who hadn’t spoken yet were the medic standing with my injured friends and the small lady with the bulky backpack. With nothing better to do, I studied her with my peripheral vision (didn’t want to be caught staring). The backpack looked like it was one piece of equipment that someone tried to make look like a backpack at the last minute. As I focused on it, I became aware of a dozen or more wards placed on it and realized that if I tried to look any closer it’d react by blasting me. I don’t know what method it would use but what I do know was that it had some rudimentary intelligence because I recognized a warning when a metaphorical gun was placed in my face. I found something else to look at.

“Hey!”

I realized I had been spoken to a few seconds too late. I turned to regard Asshole. “Mm?”

“What do you have to say?”

“You’ll have to repeat the question,” I said. “I began to ignore you when you started acting like an asshole from a cop show.”

Asshole’s expression became ugly. He took a threatening step toward me, and I felt a subtle magic surround him.

“Walt,” Big Chin said, a note of warning in his voice.

I would like to say that I wasn’t feeling threatened, but that’d be a lie. I’m no stranger to violence, and like recognizes like. Walt was a killer. I doubt he was a good one if all it took was calling him an asshole to set him off, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. I wasn’t familiar with the magic surrounding him, but it felt a bit like a spell I experimented with a few years ago that made one faster. I ended the experiment with it because I nearly broke my neck while under its effects.

I didn’t let my apprehension show on my face. I kept my body language relaxed. The only reaction I gave was a slight raising of an eyebrow.

“I said,” Asshole Walt said through gritted teeth. “Why the fuck should we even consider endangering ourselves with some untrained asshole, who only knows one fucking spell?”

I opened my mouth to reply.

“Because he learned it in under a year,” Albright said, coming out of his psychic daydream.

Several heads turned toward me, eyes wide.

“Because he has survived two encounters with the Doorman, the most recent involving a fistfight,” he continued, his normally chipper voice flat and without inflection.

Technically I only threw the Doorman and hit him with one or two spells, but I’m not going to correct him.

“This was after he fought through several gunmen, killed Stephen Ordon and fought Jerry Sayers to a standstill, then went on to kill Terrance Love in single combat.”

Albright walked up to Walt, whose tough guy act had melted away. He now looked like a teenager being dressed down by a disappointed father.

“Even if all that weren’t the case,” Albright said. “He’s coming because I fucking said so.”

I caught the big knight guy looking at me. When our eyes met, he gave me a wink. At least, I think he did. His eyes were hard to see through that thing.

Albright turned around and went back to the very same spot he had been occupying... and went to dreamland again. Huh.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“Wait,” said the small woman with the scary backpack. “He’s the pirate guy?”

“I mean, I’m a pirate killer,” I said. “Saying ‘pirate guy’ implies that I’m a guy dressed as a pirate, or that I’m enthused about pirates. Which I’m not.”

Big Chin shot me a beaming grin. “Thanks, man,” he said. “We were hunting them for years with no luck.”

It was weird receiving gratitude for that debacle. I didn’t get thanked much… if at all? Honestly, my memories of that trip are a bit patchy towards the end. I was sporting a bunch of tentacles at the time and I probably wasn’t all that approachable.

Scary Backpack took a couple of steps closer to me. “Could Ordon really summon infinite knives?”

“I’ll assume we’re talking about the same person—so yes?” I said with some hesitation. “I never really exchanged names with anyone but Love. I just called them Knife Guy and Mr. Forgettable,” Knight Guy barked a laugh. “And Knife Guy didn’t really ‘summon’ knives. He just… always had knives. If he needed to throw a knife, a knife would just be in his hand. In our first fight, he threw a couple dozen of them at me.”

I… didn’t like talking about this. I could see Scary Backpack gearing up to quiz me. I turned away from her and addressed the big dude. “Can you give me a round of introductions? I’m tired of thinking of you as Knight Guy.”

Knight Guy barked out another laugh. “Yes! Of course,” he pointed at the lady who had helped Alice. “That’s Beats, combat medic. Your new best friend who’s trying to fade into the background is Walt, our forward scout.”

“Hey!” Walt said and was promptly ignored.

Knight Guy jerked a thumb over at Big Chin. “This’s Greg, front liner, a job he shares with me. We’re big and strong and can take a hit.”

He gestured at Scary Backpack. “That’s Kristy, our comms officer, which is just a glorified title for the person who has to carry the radio.”

Kristy nodded happily.

“Finally,” he concluded. “I’m Roy, second in command.”

“Colm,” I said. “But you probably knew that already.”

Kristy shook her head. “Nah. We may have heard your name, but then we all just called you the ‘pirate guy’ around HQ when talking about the incident.”

“Again, I have problems with that appellation.”

“You always talk like a thesaurus?” Beats asked.

“Usually only when I’m nervously waiting to raid a warehouse where a cult who worships the embodiment of loss and entropy potentially has my brother, the only relative I have to whom I love without reservation.”

That kind of killed the mood.

“It’ll be soon,” Roy said slowly, like someone gearing up for an unpleasant task. Which—okay, yeah, fair. “The Boss is coordinating the arrival of a second team to cover the area to catch anyone fleeing. Takes a while to set up an anti-spacial field. Apparently, you found something big.”

I glanced at the warehouse, feeling my eyes twitch in their sockets.

“Yeah.”

***

Five minutes later Albright was still staring into space, and I was about ready to go in without them. Someone must have noticed, because Big Chin—er, Greg, came over and stood next to me.

“Did you really learn Circe’s Method in a year?” He asked.

“A little under, but yeah,” I clarified.

He gave a low whistle.

“Is that impressive?” I asked. “My friend says it was amazing, but she also calls the Desperate Housewives amazing so I can’t really trust her.”

Greg laughed good-naturedly. “Hell yeah, it’s impressive. Most people who use that method start in childhood, and don’t master their first spell until High School or later.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “But the book I got says the average person shouldn’t take longer than fourteen months.”

Greg’s mouth opened in a silent “aaah,” before nodding knowingly. “Was the book you learned from called Complete Guide to Mastery: Circe’s Method?”

I had a feeling I was about to learn something interesting. “Yes, actually.”

Another nod from Greg. “Do you remember who wrote it?”

I frowned.

“Trick question;” Greg said quickly, before I could think too hard. “You won’t find his name anywhere on a modern printing of the book. The author was a man from the 13th century named Henry Gallup Monstrussen, a man whose magical genius was only surpassed by his love of his sister and favorite goat.”

I felt my face change into an expression of vague horror. “You mean..?”

“Yeah,” Greg said with distaste. “The guy was nuttier than a fruitcake. But he knew his magic. The point is; like many geniuses, he didn’t see how others couldn’t perceive the world like he could. So him saying that learning Circe’s Method was possible for the average person in fourteen months is like Bach just gesturing at a piano and going ‘you just play’ when asked how to play piano.”

I frowned in thought. This isn’t the first time someone suggested my magical prowess was higher than it should be for someone who was largely self-taught. To be fair, it was mostly Alice who was doing it... but now I have an outside source.

“Do you know anyone else who has learned it that quickly?” I asked.

“Oh yeah!” Greg said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Roy’s been using Circe’s Method since his teens, and he knows more spells with Circe’s than I do with my Bulwark. Same with the Boss.”

I glanced over and Albright. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Greg said happily. “You kind of have to if you want to be a psychic. There’s too much that can go wrong for a spell with no rigidity and that can’t be changed on the fly.”

My respect for Albright multiplied. I had assumed he was a natural psychic like Alice and her family, just more powerful. But if his magic is strong enough to bridge minds across miles, it speaks of a strength that is kind of frightening.

Aaaand I just threatened him a while ago.

Great.

I wonder if I should—

“I got something!” Kristy yelled.

Finally.

I turned to find Albright coming out of his daydream while Kristy stood with her eyes closed. Greg left my side to stand next to her while Roy took up a position opposite him, guarding her with a wall of flesh.

“What have you got?” Albright asked, shaking his head slightly to clear it.

“Ritual magic,” she said slowly. “I—I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. The place must be caked with defensive wards.” She opened her eyes. “We need to get in there.”

Albright nodded and turned to me. “How many more shots does your gun have?”

“It can’t do that again,” I said, gesturing towards the blown-up guard station. “At least, not without blowing up my hands as well, but I got thirteen shots left.”

Albright nodded. “Save them for emergencies. Stay in the back and keep clear of the lines of fire. Do what Kristy says. If you can’t agree to these conditions, I can’t take you with me.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said. “But as soon as we find my brother, I’m grabbing him and bolting.”

Albright nodded. “Acceptable.”

Kristy came up to me and handed me a couple of earpieces. “These will allow you to hear us but will filter out any sound magic. You’ll need them in case Beats gets in trouble.”

I glanced at Beats, who waggled her eyebrows at me.

“...Kay,” I said as I took the earpieces. They fit snugly, like foam earplugs that wrapped around the back of my ears. When I released them, they adjusted to be even more snug to the point of being uncomfortable. I was about to grab them and give them an adjustment when something shifted and I suddenly couldn’t feel them anymore. I reached up, and I could feel them with my fingers, but otherwise couldn’t detect them.

“These are cool,” I said. The normal enthusiasm I have for new magic was subdued by the likelihood of imminent combat.

“Right?” Kristy said with a smile.

I took a moment to study her. She had long, stringy black hair that refused to stay out of her face. Her uniform was the same, breastplate-over-tactical as the rest of the group, but the magical gear she had was distinctly… Hot Topic Goth.

She had what I swear was a wallet chain going from her hip to the scary backpack, two spiked bracelets, spiked anklets, and a spiked choker. Each piece gave off a magical aura that I’d call… spooky? In a really, kinda hyper, way? It was the most confusing magical sensation I’ve felt in a long time.

“Gendry’s team won’t arrive for another twenty minutes,” Albright said, which made the group wince. “I was hoping for more time, but we aren’t getting that. The good news is that the teleport-lock is in place, so anyone fleeing will do so via vehicle, portal, or on foot. Calhoun!”

“I’ll light up any vehicles fleeing,” the guy babysitting my friends called back.

Albright nodded. “Let’s go.”

We turned and started marching down the road to the warehouse. I couldn’t help but notice that the horrible psychic cloud overhanging it seemed to be looking at us. I glared up at it, not caring how uncomfortable it made my eyes feel.

I'm fucking coming.