The Deep End chapter 2

Dean sat in his old black Jeep CJ, waiting for the bail-jumper to appear. The mobile homes had all seen better days. Many had paint peeling away from the aluminum siding, while a few had plywood covering windows. Few people moved about. The neighborhood had the broken, desperate feel of poverty and privation. His Jeep was old, but a cut above the average vehicle around here. Most that he saw in crumbling cement driveways were dented and rusting.

The job was to track down a three-time bail jumper who had gang connections. Dean had proven to be a good skip-tracer. He was quiet, nondescript, and could talk to most anyone. He’d talked to a few former associates of Mick Browning, tracing his movements around Halifax as he tried to stay ahead of people like Dean.

Dean had been very diligent while learning the ropes of skip-tracing. A lot of what they did was paperwork, legwork, and waiting. He’d been working with Carny’s cousin, Adair, for nine months now. His record for his time was fourteen arrests after ‘failure to show in court’. To dean’s relief, all fourteen were of those deserving of jail time.

His fear of having to jail a person just because they screwed up once didn’t eat at him like it had before. It was still there, and that fear was what made him so diligent in getting information and making sure the guy he was chasing deserved to be chased. Such as the current person of interest. Mick Browning was a man Dean found he didn’t like much. Mick had a arrest record that stretched back to middle school when he was arrested for breaking into a grade school to steal computers.

His first brush with the law set a pattern of attempted thefts and punishment in Juvenile facilities, which turned Mick Browning into a street-savvy hustler and car thief. Along the way, he’d gotten into a local motorcycle gang, ‘Charon’. They’d taught him the subtle skills of drug trafficking. He’d served some time, but was released early due to prison overcrowding. Then he’d expanded into home invasion, which was what the courts wanted him for now. His trial was pending, and somehow he’d been allowed to be under ‘house arrest’ with an ankle tracker.

The tracker worked exactly for ten minutes before an alarm went off, indicating that it was no longer attached to an ankle. Police arriving on the scene found the collar had been somehow sliced in half, and Mick had disappeared. The warrant was issued that evening and Dean had been given the job of retrieving the wayward criminal. Mick had been careful not to talk to anyone of his usual friends after escaping, but his habit of frequenting strip clubs gave him away. Dean found some people at a local bar that’d seen Mick a couple days ago.

Further canvassing of nearby neighborhoods had led him to this mobile home park, and a particular address. Now, he was parked two houses down, in his old Jeep, waiting for Mick to show his face in public. Dean took a bite out of a cold hamburger, then shifted, moving his hand to his belt and loosening it one notch.

This fast-food is packing on pounds. I need to get to the gym or something, or I’m going to need new clothes as my old ones won’t fit anymore.

The walkie-talkie on the seat next to him crackled to life.

“See anything on your side?”

Dean picked it up, keying the mike as he watched the trailer house.

“No Zeke, he’s probably sleeping the day away in there.” Dean shifted again, putting the remaining half of the hamburger on the seat.

“Okay, nothing here either. Think he’ll show today?”

“Maybe, it’s Monday, and he’s got to be running low on things. If he wants to eat, he’s going to have to go somewhere to get it.”

“yeah, I getcha. Well, only four more hours until we get relieved. Wanna catch a burger afterwards?”

Dean looked at his half-eaten burger. Not again. “I’d rather not, honestly. I’m having trouble fitting into my pants. Any more and I’ll start splitting seams.” He chuckled. “How do you even eat that many? We’ve gone to that burger place every day this week and you still want to go again?”

“Well, if you can’t handle perfection, then I’ll catch alone tonight after we get relieved.”

Dean opened his window to a thin crack to let air in. July was baking him inside his car. He wondered again how John managed to eat all those burgers and still fit in his clothes. His attention shifted to the trailer house.

“I got movement. Someone just opened and shut a window shade.”

“You have eyes on?”

“No. No movement since the blinds.”

“It’d be nice to get this done, eh?”

“Very nice. I could sleep in a bed instead of my front seat.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“Someone’s coming out. I have eyes on.”

“Car, or walk?”

“Bike. he’s got leathers on and wearing colors.”

“Shit. Let’s take him before he gets loose in traffic. That damn bike can dodge rings around us.

Dean fired up the Jeep and dropped it into gear.

“I’ll take the bike, you take him.”


Dean didn’t wait, but went through the small front yard of the home next to Mick’s. The Jeep jounced and wobbled across the uneven ground. Browning had just gotten to the motorcycle when he spotted the Jeep coming straight at him. he abandoned the bike and ran, clearing the bike just barely before the Jeep’s winch and bumper smashed the big bike flat, and the Jeep ran over it in pursuit of Mick.

Mick ran around the edge of his trailer home, breaking contact with Dean. Dean cursed, and ran to the corner, stopping and peering quickly around the corner to see if Mick had stopped to ambush them. He saw the fugitive taking on his partner in a quick exchange of blows, blocks, and counters. Mick was larger, but John had years of martial training, thanks to a father that was a full-time Aikido instructor.

John threw a punch at Mick’s face, which was blocked. John used the block to balance his arm, and he spun into a back kick that caught Mick just below the ribs, knocking him back on his backside. John followed the kick up with a quick shuffle and a second kick to his groin.

Mick turned red and gasped, falling over and groaning in pain.

Dean stepped next to Mick, zip-tie in hand. He flipped Mick onto his stomach, then locked mick’s hands together behind him with the zip-tie. Then John and Dean both helped him up, and placed him in the back of John’s old police cruiser. He helped Mick sit down, then tied Micks hands a second time. This loop with through a specially prepared loop of metal on the floor of the rear passenger’s seat. A third tie went around Mick’s legs and through the metal loop, holding Mick bent over until he was delivered to the Halifax police.

John finished checking the restraints, then closed the door. He turned towards Dean.

“So, still on for a burger?”

Dean patted his growing belly, and shook his head. “No thanks, I have to drop a few pounds before I can indulge again.”

John nodded and opened the driver’s door and clambered in.

He started the car, then rolled the window down.

“Hey, you still planning on dropping to part time with Adair? I know a couple places you’d fit in with.”

Dean smiled and leaned against the door.

“Yes, I’m still going part time. I want to open my own place, and Adair’s being kind enough to help me out, since it won’t be for skip-tracing. It’ll just be me finding lost relatives, lost kids, or wayward spouses who may or may not be cheating on their partner.”

John nodded, and shifted the car into ‘drive’.

“I get that. I think you’re missing a good deal though. We mead a lot of money on these guys.”

“Yes, we did,” Dean replied. Despite his laid-back expression, his mind was racing. He’d found a place, and would be getting the keys for the office today. The thought of actually having his own office sent a thrill through him that he never had when chasing bail jumpers.

I just don’t see a future in chasing bounties like that. This is the big-time. My own office. My own business. My own hours. Mine, and no one else’s.

John beeped the horn, and waited for Dean to stand up, then rolled off to collect the money for delivering a felon back to the waiting arms of the courts.

Yeah, my own place.

The Deep End – Chapter 1

“Hey Dean, how did the test go?” Carny Weston walked over to Dean Youngwood, giving him a fist bump as a greeting, and falling in next to him as Dean walked to his car. The sidewalk was full of pedestrians in a hurry to get lunch. The noon whistle had blown only a minute before Dean had exited Precinct Four after taking his test. He’d come dressed for the weather, and Dean was thankful for his bit of preparation. The snow was coming down thick and slushy, sticking to anything it landed on. The weather station had promised wet snow and the station had got it right. Dean smiled at Carny a little wistfully, then stuck his hands in his jacket pockets.

“You know, I think I did pretty good. But…,” he paused and Carny’s face fell. His blonde beard was already festooned with fat flakes that were threatening to turn his whiskers into an ice sculpture. Carny’s blue and black checked hunting jacket was doing much better, the snow giving Carny the look of a man with a completely out of control dandruff problem. His shoulder length blonde hair combined with his beard made him look like a modern viking.

Dean by contrast to Carny’s appearance, had short black hair irregularly cut, a testament to ‘don’t do this at home in a mirror’, and dark brown eyes that almost looked black. He’d put on weight since his days in the Canadian Air Force, and had a slight gut. His swarthy skin made him look piratical, but in fact Dean was a full-blooded Cree. He wore a pair of thick blue denim work pants, and a matching blue coat to protect him from the cold. His last name, Youngwood, was his adopted parents name. He chose it for his own despite some protests by fellow Cree.

“Aw man that s…,” Carny started to say, but Dean pulled a piece of yellow paper out of his jean pocket and held it in front of Carny’s nose.

“I think they believed so too, because they gave me this little piece of paper.” Dean smiled as Carny whooped and enveloped him in a bear hug.

“Way to go, man! Way. To. Go!”

He ceased hollering as people around them stopped and stared at the exuberant spectacle. Carny put Dean back on the ground and the two continued their walk back towards Carny’s pickup. When they reached the battered green truck, Dean glanced at Carny as he opend the passenger door, “How about lunch on me? I passed the exam, I think we should celebrate at ‘The Shake Shack’. I haven’t had a artery-clogging hamburger and fries for a couple weeks.”

Carny laughed, and opened the driver’s door.

“Sounds great! how ’bout we stop by Tim Horton’s afterwards to get a coffee and donut as dessert?”

Dean grimaced. “I’d love to, but I think I’ll pass on that. I can only handle so much decadence.”


“Guilty as charged.”

“Dammit, it’s no fun if you don’t insult back. Where do you get off being agreeable?”

“The same place you get off by trying to start something.”

Carny laughed again and pressed the start button on the dashboard. The vehicle rumbled as the engine refused to start, then caught with a roar. Dean settled back in his seat as Carny wheeled the vehicle out of the parking lot, and into lunch-hour traffic.

While they slowly worked their way towards their destination, Carny asked Dean, “So where are you going to hang your shingle?”

Dean stared forward out the windshield, watching the fat flakes of snow descend on the barely moving vehicles.

“I was thinking up around Shannon Park. The area is old and poor, but a lot of decent sorts there. I could probably get by.”

Carny looked over at Dean as though Dean had sprouted a second head.

“You’re nuts, you know that? I understand wanting to help people, but first you gotta get on your own feet. Helping people is good, but if you can’t keep a roof over your head, how you gonna help someone else?”

Dean shrugged, then looked over at Carny.

“You blew big holes in that idea. Yeah, I’d like to help out that way. Lots of folks could use a little help to solve problems. Hell, maybe solving the problems would fix something.” He sighed and turned back to watch the traffic in front of them. “But you’re right. If I can’t keep a place open, I don’t do anyone any good.” He turned his head towards Carny again. “So what would be your plan?”

Carny shrugged, then replied, “What about joining a detective agency for a bit. Get a name, take care of a few cases. Hunt down a few bail jumpers. Whatever. An agency would get your feet wet for a regular paycheck, and getcha experience without worrying about rent.”

Dean listened quietly. The traffic began moving once more and the two lapsed into silence for the three minute drive over to ‘The Shake Shack’.

After thy sat down with their food, Dean took a bite out of his burger.

“You’re angling for me to work with your cousin, aren’t you?”

Carny smiled and took a hefty swig from the straw in his drink.

“See? That’s why you’re the detective. You can figure things out.”

Dean shook his head. “I know you think your cousin’s a good guy, Carny, but I’m not sure he’d be the best one to work for starting out. I mean, he’s a skip-tracer, not a private investigator.”

“That’s why he’s perfect to work with. He’s been there, done that, and can give you pointers into how to use your newfound legal license the best way possible. It’s a steady paycheck, and you help by getting bad people off the streets.”

“And I have to track down people who’s only crime was that they can’t pay on their car, and I have to take it away, and they lost their job because they can’t get to work to pay bills and help their families.”

Carny’s face drooped. Dean figured he’d tried to be helpful. Carny was always trying to look out for friends. He and Dean had spent a hitch in the Canadian Air Force for four years as mechanics working on the old F-22 Raptors that had survived The Change. They’d gotten along and worked well together. Then became in-laws when Carny had married Dean’s adopted sister Carol. In the three years they’d been married, Carol had two pairs of twins. The first pair were girls, and the second were boys.

Dean shook his head. then took another bite from the burger.

“Say I join your cousin, do you get anything for referring me?”

“No, I just thought he’d be a good place to start.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. I’ll go see him. No promises. I’m still not certain that I want to do this, but you’re right, I have to start somewhere.”

“Cool! I’ll drive you…”

“Ease up Carny, I’ll drive over this afternoon. You need to get back to work, Carol’s probably going crazy with four crazed munchkins running around.”

Carny set his drink down and grabbed at his potato wedges, stuffing two in his mouth. he chewed, then swallowed.

“She probably is, eh? Carol’s a great mom. Though she’s got a temper.”

Dean shrugged. “Well, you would too with four kids in diapers and needing constant supervision. I bet she’s exhausted by the time you get home.”

“Yeah, she is.” He turned to look at Dean. “Speaking of that, wanna come by and spend time with your nieces and nephews? I could take Carol out on the town, maybe a movie, eh?”

Dean chuckled. “Okay, okay. I get it. When do you want me by?”

“How about five-thirty? I’ll be home by then and you can show up. the kids’ll love seeing you.”

“Yeah, I bet. My back’s still sore from the last time they loved seeing me.”

Carny chuckled and finished off the last potato wedge.

“You adore them as much as they adore you. Admit it for once.”

Dean shrugged, smiling. “What, and ruin a streak?”

National Novel Writing Month – Brandished Destiny – Part 8

The last half of Chapter 4 – speculation about where things are sent from the old world

Larry went through that with both of us. He was made of stronger fibre than I. I took it out on the cop in the lobby at the hospital. Larry had to handle me, Fawn, and when Zhira was born, his daughter and keep a sane head on his shoulders. How he managed it I’ll never know. Now here we were with a very cryptic threat hanging over us, and one that could affect the whole of his family. So I swallowed my knee-jerk smartass remark and just nodded. I thought I saw Fawn give a faint sigh of relief.

So, where do you think we should start?”

Give me a day or two to think about it. I know Rynun isn’t a practical joker, but part of me really wants him to be pulling our collective legs. He said ‘war is for the young to fight,’ correct?”

Yeah, that’s right. He said that Fawn and I didn’t need him. He was just an old man that had a few tricks, and that wars are for the young to fight.”

Larry got hard-eyed as he listened. When I finished he leaned forward and to the side so his shoulder was against Fawn’s.

Did you ever thing it wasn’t you he was talking about?”

What do you mean? We’re younger than him.”

Yes, but who here is younger than both of you.”

I had to stop and think. I didn’t want to come to the obvious conclusion because I just might tear my hair out. Larry had correctly pointed out another possibility. Zhira might be who Rynun was talking about fighting a war. She like Her mom and I, was younger than Rynun. I didn’t want to accept it, but I had to. She might have to fight a war. But if that was the case, how did we fit into the picture? Was it something we could change? If so, how? I was circling the same hole I dropped into yesterday. But now I was wanting to tear apart anyone or anything that threatened my niece, even if I had no clue what Rynun’s words were truly supposed to mean.

I’ll put requests for information on sudden catatonia being reported” Fawn said quietly. “If we find more, we can start to put together a pattern on how these people with bottles operate and hunt. Mr Thensome was fairly focused on you, Fern so we didn’t get a clear picture of his tendencies. I hate the idea of more people dying, but unless we find a different way to corner these users, we’re stuck until more information comes to us.”

That’s a hell of a lousy way to find out, Fawn.” The idea of waiting for people to die did not set well with any of us. For all we knew Zhira could be a target. Yes, Rynun might be talking about her fighting the ‘war’, but we just didn’t know. There had to be a way to figure it out.

Larry, do you know any fortune tellers you consider legit?”

Oh come on Fern!? Seriously?! Why not just call up a power and ask it?!”

Well, why not really? Larry’s glare turned to one of alarm as he watched me.

Fern, I didn’t mean you should. Seriously. Forget that idea. There’ll be another way to do it.”

You know more than I about it. We are running with no idea what’s going on. Asking a power at least gives us a starting point.”

At what cost!? I remember what you said about that kidnapping and what you asked for help. That girl screwed up and you’re eaten up with guilt because she got ahead of herself and called that thing herself.” Larry was practically shouting across the small table at me. It was obvious to me that he had no desire or intention about calling up a power. And I’m certain he read in me at the same time I was bound and determined to do something, and that something was likely to be calling upon a power to help us.

What we could get for help had to be bargained for, so payment would have to be commensurate to the information gained. I had to be careful, because all the knowledge of what was happening wouldn’t help me a bit if a power decided to call in the bargain right away. Then it would either be pay up right then, or get turned into a little greasy spot for not upholding a promise made. Powers get testy and viciously creative in dealing with promise breakers. I did not ever intend to be one. If I screwed up, then something might happen to Zhira, or Fawn, or Larry. So not something to think about.

For me, the question was what kind of entity to call. The answer to me at least was obvious. Darkness. That of hidden places and hidden thoughts, and unknown futures. Like Megan had summoned. No, I did not want to summon a being of darkness. Magick the same. Entities of Magick are pretty much incomprehensible, and for good reason. Like darkness they’re a living breathing equivalent of a tactical nuclear device, only with intelligence and an agenda. Never ever deal with powers and yet here I was considering doing what I’ve constantly railed against; dealing with a power when you’re desperate. Yes I was desperate. Larry’s point had me thinking of Zhira having to fight something that I had set in motion. That’s not something any parent wants for their child. Mistakes should be the responsibility of the mistake-maker, not the family of.

I was still going through with it. Right now, appealing to a power seemed the only way to get a handle on what was happening. I needed to set this up carefully and with a lot of thought or I’d be as snared as Megan had been. I could call to the Darkness and see if another entity would answer, but there’s the old adage about the devil you know versus the one you don’t. Which would you prefer? The one I know is dangerous, devious, and frightening. It’s sole purpose from my limited experience with it and Megan was that it was working to drive Megan insane. By now she probably was. I know her mom blames me, and I can accept that building a circle in front of her germinated the idea to cal a power of her own.

No one pays enough attention to teenagers. They’re easily the most messed-up stage of humanity. Bodies are changing from child to adult, and the hormonal imbalances also make the mind more volatile and vulnerable to suggestion. Think about it, as a child you took on dares because it was fun and exciting, but even kids for the most part know when they’re in over their heads. Teens see it a challenge to their existence so they go all-in even if the little voice is saying that whatever they’re doing is a REALLY BAD IDEA. As I said there’s the devil you know and the one you don’t. In my case I’d prefer to delve into the unknown instead of taking the Darkness on and trying to free Megan.

Larry didn’t want to have anything to do with summoning an entity. He’d do it though because Fawn would help me if he didn’t. In terms of rooting about for secret knowledge or hidden things, the Darkness was probably the best choice for knowing. A close second would Secrets. If man can conceptualize an idea, there’s an entity for it. Whether that’s because a being created the entity because of their thoughts, or it already existed because the concept existed, well, that’s what’s driven more than a few scholars crazy trying to answer that. Let’s just say they exist and move on. Between Darkness and Secrets I suppose I should explain how I see them. I think it’s semi-safe to say the how the petitioner sees the entity has a lot to do with their scope of abilities.

Darkness is all sorts of hidden things to me, both remembered and forgotten. Secrets are things that are not physical for the most part, and are hidden within the person. So in a sense one is physical, external to the person, and the other mental and internal. You may see it different and for you the entity may be somewhat skewed from my view. The trouble is Darkness also encompasses fear of the dark, terror, isolation, and a number of other negative connotations. Larry knows a lot more than I. His take is that the entity encompasses those things and more, but because of our limited understanding, when we call an entity, we somehow limit it by how we set up the spell for petitioning.

The spell I made way back when was a general call, and I got a number of different entities that answered. Now this one is specific because my need was specific. I needed information. Specific information with specific limits. Fawn and I to start with. I wanted it about us, not about Zhira. So, that was one specific point. Number two, how are we linked. We’re sisters, and twins, fraternal like has been mentioned before.

That’s another possibility, but I was looking for something more to do with somethinge we were both involved in. That covered a lot of ground. Being with Fawn, Larry, and Zhira was good for the spirit, but not so good for thinking. Both Larry and Fawn had remained quiet when I went off into my little world and thought about things.

Larry, is it a good chance that what this is about is something Fawn and I were in together? I don’t see how just being sisters gets Rynun to say what he did.”

Fern, I think that’s a good idea to start, but it covers a lot of history. You two have been wrapped up in things since you were kids. For starters look at the spell that your Uncle Todd pulled you out of. That was supposed to have killed and resurrected you.” He started ticking off other happenings, like the case with Hervald Thensome and Ahiah, the Nephilim which we laid our parents to rest and broke the suspended spell. He was at it for ten minutes detailing each situation and how Fawn and I were caught up in it one way or the other. It was a long list and I think Fawn and I just sat there stunned at how much Larry remembered, all the way back to middle school when we first met.

Neither of us thought it weird at all at the time, but then we were the ones it happened to, and kids see what goes on around them as normal. Only when you get perspective and look at your life and someone else’s in comparison does the odd things begin to stand out. The stuff starting with Hervald though, all of it had been very out there on the weirdness scale. Magick makes everything odd, but not bugnuts crazy, usually. This has been kind of non-stop excepting this two year break since the good Reverend had manipulated me into kidnapping his niece from his brother and tried to sacrifice eighty-six men, women, and babies to some entity in the ground below the compound.

It’s scattered but not gone. Both Fawn and I know that. It also was another spot where we found out more about ourselves in ways we’d never done before. To get to the meat of the story is that we both have the ability to hold a huge amount of Magick in reserve like a battery. We can’t touch it ourselves, but it’s easy to pull from each other to power ourselves. We’re linked through Magick, but until the compound, it never occurred to us that we might be ‘made’ for each other beyond being just sisters.

What Larry was getting at seemed to be that maybe our link to what Rynun had said was between us. That didn’t explain the war, but explained to me why we might be the ones he was discussing or warning. Going on that premise, we were linked the moment the Magick and the demon worked to kill and resurrect us.

Doing some quick searching online got us Semjaza and Ahiah. Fallen Angel and Nephilim. Father and son. The father would gather power to free the son into the world and the son would then break the bonds that held his sire. Together they’d free all the others and come ravage the world and destroy man in an apocalyptic war. It’s a part of the Book of Enoch. In the book, they were bound to be forever suffering for spreading knowledge and mating with women. So we knew who, and kind of what and why. Where was pretty much unmentioned but because everything had happened around Halifax/Dayning we guessed where was here. None of that explained ‘how’ though. The book of Enoch was not terribly specific about those beyond Azazel and Semjaza being bound and held in the ‘Abyss of Fire’.

Some of you might be wondering about why Halifax. Well, If you were going to bind someone and put them away from the knowledge of men, you take them to the farthest place away, wouldn’t you? The farthest place away from and land mass would be one surrounded by water. Guess what two land masses fit that bill? That’s right, North and South America. So the guess is this is where they were imprisoned however long ago, probably before men found a way to get to the continents via the Alaska land bridge if you believe the anthropologists that wrote books about it years ago.

We needed to figure out how all of this was supposed to happen. It was late in the evening when we finally called a halt to brainstorming and online searches. I went home after giving Zhira one more hug. I needed it. I wished she was here to give me another after waking up to the news the next morning.

National Novel Writing Month – Brandished Destiny – Part 7

Back on proper numbering and hopefully back on track with posting pieces.  Things get a little shaky here.  Fern’s talk with Rynun did not go well and the hint of a war that her niece might be central to has her very much out of sorts.


Once we arrived and parked, Sinera quickly hurried up to her desk and began sorting through mail and messages. I went to sulk in my office. I hadn’t worked off my mad completely, so it was a good idea to waste some time in a snit, then pull myself back together. The old windup clock on the window shelf ticked away as I pulled the bottle from the torn inner coat pocket and dropped it with a touch of malice into the bottom drawer and kicked it shut. I took off the trench coat and hung it on the coat tree behind my desk and between the windows. As I turned toward my desk I was already trying to fit pieces together. Fifteen minutes later I wasn’t pulling my hair out in frustration just yet, I was just in a real bitchy mood.

I wanted answers now, and lord knows they weren’t going to come to me in the mood I was in. So, since today seemed to be all about reminiscing, I walked back out to the PT cruiser, got in and started it up, then went up into Dayning to visit Zhirk.

His family was all gone excepting his mom, who had been transformed into a fairy when the Change had reached Halifax. His sister died in the riots, and his dad a while after that. Fawn and I had chipped in money to have his remains buried next to his dad and sister in the back yard of their old house. It had been cared for while Zhirk was alive, but after three years of neglect it had started looking worse for wear. The grey-green color had faded to a flat sort of grey-brown, and the weeds had conquered the formerly manicured lawn around the house. The windows were still intact, but someone had kicked in the back door. I hoped they didn’t do too much damage to the place.

Fawn and I had gotten a small token from the place to remember him by after the remains had been interred. The Fairy that was his mom flitted in the back yard. Maybe at some level she did know, and mourned. The day was becoming way to melancholy. I wanted something to divert me out of this bad mood, only Fawn was still at work, and my relationship with Larry had changed after Fawn had gone with me while pregnant with Zhira. We still talked when I came over, but usually it was Fawn that invited me, not Larry. He held a grudge, and I understood it. He and Fawn managed to save their marriage through a buttload of hard work, but that work didn’t include forgiving me.

I was mostly okay with that. I had a lot of guilt over everything that happened, and Larry’s anger with me felt like I deserved it. I probably should have gone and talked to someone about it, but I chose to bury myself in work to avoid thinking about it. It worked for the most part, and I managed to finally make peace with all that happened. The big change was Zhira. Believe me, a child’s innocence can really lift weight off your shoulders. There’s just something about watching a child grow and explore, especially the really early years. They’re a bundle of innocent curiosity.

I pushed open the remains of the back door and stepped inside. The basement was poured concrete walls and floor with a couple windows set just above ground to let light in. A pair of child-sized bicycles lay next to the door, their spokes stomped out and bent. A larger adult pair were no longer here. Toward the far left wall was the gas heater, and a dust-caked white washer and dryer. A couple steel posts held up the floor. I walked ahead to the stairs up to the kitchen. Four steps up, a left turn on the landing and six steps more place me next to the refrigerator in the kitchen. The living room was just beyond, and to my left was another set of stairs that went up to the bedrooms and the single bathroom. Yeah, I’d been here before.

Once to help Zhirk pick up some clothes and things for obscuring ritual, and then here to talk with him on occasion and try to keep the place looking lived in. Right now there was a pile of towels from the bathroom in the living room, along with a sleeping bag and a couple of opened cans. Normally I’d be looking for the squatter, but I just didn’t have the urge to do anything other than take a short tour of the rooms, and walk back down the basement and go out to where the graves were.

The headstones were still there. A bit of painted graffiti was on each one. The fluorescent yellow on the dark basalt made my stomach turn over. I took a deep breath and let it go. Zhirk wasn’t here any more, nor were his family. All that was here were bits of carved rock for others to remember them. Zhirk would have told me to leave be and concentrate on what really was bothering me, which was the war. There had to be some way to figure out what Rynun had meant and maybe stop it before it starts. Yeah, I bought in. I believed Rynun that something bad was going to happen soon. I just couldn’t not brood about it because he’d intimated that Fawn was in the middle of it too, which meant Larry and Zhira would be affected. Which would then affect me on a deeply personal level.

Yeah, we’re all selfish motivations. And selfish or not, war doesn’t just affect one family. It could very well affect all of Nova Scotia, or all of Canada. I didn’t know the scope, what it was about, or really anything, and I had no place to start, and that frustration got me out here, visiting ghosts that couldn’t do anything but listen to a short ginger girl complain about all the crap she doesn’t know. Sometimes it’d be nice to have something other than a one way conversation, but I’m not a spirit medium, I can’t talk to ghosts, and vice-versa. Even with all this Magick in me, that is one of many things I can’t do.

As much as I wish Magick was a cure-all, it’s not. Magick is good for brute-forcing solutions, and rituals can do detail but they take effort and a lot of control to do right. Magick at times has its own agenda, and when you’re part of it, life gets interesting. The worst part is not knowing if you’re falling into someone’s agenda even if you’re already hip deep. I stuck around and did pull some weeds, wiped the dust and mud off, and bade them fare well until the next time. The trip home was about the same as the trip out; melancholy with a bit of simmering resentment at the absolute lack of information.

I got back just around sundown, Sinera had already left for the evening as did most of the other businesses on the floor. That gave me the quiet I wanted. Was I obsessing over what Rynun said? You bet I was. It may be hubris, but the hint that Fawn and I were in the middle of something like a war made me wonder at what I could do before fertilizer hit rotating air mover.I think I worried it to the bone and gnawed all the way through trying to understand why. And no, I normally don’t get obsessive like this. At some level I think I understood that I was placing way to much into one cryptic statement, but I couldn’t let it go. TO get back to the situation at hand, as I was about to fall asleep at my desk, I realized that I did have one person I knew that might find answers. The question was, would Larry actually be willing to help?

The only way to find out was get up the next morning and drive over to Fawn and Larry’s and ask. It took some self-coaxing to get me moving that direction, but move I did, and twenty minutes later I was in front of Fawn and Larry’s. Their house had a sense of stoic cheer, which fit both of them. Making a marriage work takes a willingness to keep at it during bad times. It’s too easy to go elsewhere and look for new and exciting partners. Neither of them ever did. I envied them that steadfast commitment. But it wasn’t commitment I wanted. Answers were more important. Answers, and telling Fawn. She needed to know, and so did Larry.

The first person to greet me was, naturally enough, Zhira. “Antie Fernie!” She squealed in delight and tottered towards me on unsteady but excitedly animated legs. I swept her up in a big hug as she reached me and we shared happy giggles. Fawn walked out of the front door. She was in blue jeans with a plain formerly white sweat shirt that had seen enough use to turn a faded ivory. Larry was right behind Fawn and dressed like her in blue jeans, but he had a light blue denim shirt. I put Zhira down and gave my sister a hug. Larry stayed a few steps back and have our moment together.

Finishing our hug, we all walked back into the house. I went over and sat at the circular table near the kitchen while Fawn got Zhira a glass of water, and she and Larry grabbed beer. I took a water myself. Both Fawn and Larry sat down opposite me. They knew something was up. I always called when I was coming over. I didn’t so this time.

So Fern” Fawn said as she looked over her shoulder at Zhira who had set her glass down and was on her hands and knees in front of their St. Bernard, Karl. The dog was down in front of Zhira, front feet splayed out, butt in the air. He took off like a puppy and banged through the screen door into the back yard. Zhira was toddling right after him, laughing all the way. She turned back to me after the circus had gone outside. “What has got you so wound up? You usually call when you come over.”

I looked over to Larry. “I need some help in figuring out what Rynun said when I met him at the cabin yesterday.” I told them of his cryptic statement about me and Fawn and the war. Larry’s face darkened as I finished the short talk while Fawn split her attention between Larry and I. I know Larry was about to explode all over me because of this, but he couldn’t blame me for it. Getting the word from Rynun made it a trusted source which meant arguing wasn’t going to change the truth. I gave them everything, including my trip to see Zhirk’s place.

So, you’ve been obsessing about what Rynun said, and driving yourself crazy looking for an answer before you have any information to figure an answer out from. Did I miss anything?”

No Larry, that’s about it. Though hearing you say that way stings a little.”

You should think about what you have and are trying to do, Fern. You’d have less problems.”

It was a not so subtle dig that I didn’t take care of business. We’d been at each other off and on depending on how much Fawn was a part of whatever was being discussed. This was obviously way too much for Larry to stay calm and rational. Fawn and Zhira were his life. Anything that might cause trouble was going to be met head-on and conquered either by wit or Magick. I felt for him. I did. After having to watch my sister nearly die twice from Preeclampsia during her pregnancy, I finally understood the helplessness of knowing that I had no ability to help, nothing but to watch, and pray, and stay by her side.

National Novel Writing Month – Brandished Destiny – part 6

Here the heroes begin to try and figure out how best to dispose of the new acquisition.

These are reports and notes of your case with the Nephilim. In truth, this was also a large part of why I desired employment with you. To survive such a creature is amazing by itself. To actually defeat one is nearly unprecedented. It is part of why most Elves know of you, and why some such as …” she thought for a moment “… Cobb tried to use and destroy you. You are a threat to their hopes of isolating humanity from the fae.”

Why do these Elves want to isolate humanity?” I had an idea why, we’re crazy violent. That’d probably be enough to give any group second thoughts about contacting the insane bald apes. “Your philosophy. We have a consistent philosophy that gives us stability. Humans have many philosophies. So many that to Elves, it seems that they are made for convenience sake instead of as a process of thought that leads to society structure. Humans are frightening and incomprehensible. Each human is flexible in terms of social structure and philosophy. To many in Elvish culture you as a race are insane.”

I had to think that through for a bit before I understood it. It hurt to hear things put bluntly, but blunt makes certain there is no misunderstanding. I was definitely more interested in talking about that than I was about the bottle. Sinera didn’t move the overturned coffee cup on top of it. I think she had the same gut-level revulsion of the thing I did. Another thought occurred to me.

Sinera, what is the Elvish attitude towards something like a Nephilim?” Yeah, ask questions and that way I don’t have to start looking into finding the bloody soul-sucking bottles.

A Nephilim is a fearsome entity. It always hungers and hates. A Nephilim is a danger to existence.” She grimaced like something bitter was caught in her throat. “Such a thing is best avoided if at all possible. You humans tend to rush toward an enemy rather than wisely fleeing. Dying does not always save the person whom was sacrificed for. It only results in more deaths than the one.”

I suppose. What would your suggestion be for locating the bottles?” I hoped she didn’t have any so I would get more time behind the desk rather than looking for trouble.

I would not use Magick. Not unless you wish to lose part of yourself to a bottle. In truth, we must wait until there is more evidence to collate with the Nephilim case.I hated my reaction to her statement. I was all for staying in and away from Nephilim and bottles. But I kept seeing friends and co-workers dead because of those things. I’m not sure when my attitude went from ‘case’ to ‘personal vendetta’, but somewhere along the way it did. And like an idiot swashbukling noir-style gumshoe, I was going to go attempt to brace a lion in its den, just because it had to be done.

I hate ‘it had to be done’. It’s way too altruistic and nothing good comes from a selfless act. There are too many people that see selfless as self-serving. People perform selfless acts all the time, diving into the water to rescue a child or a pet, jumping a robber in a store, volunteering to help get food to homeless or shut-ins. In a lot of rescue cases someone gets hurt or killed because they’re not good enough to finish what they started. Sinera had the right of it there. If you’re going to do something dangerous and chancy, you need to be able to finish successfully.

I rubbed the nub of my finger again. It ached, whether from proximity to that bottle or my own tension I don’t know. I took a breath, then a second and reached over to pick the cup up. The bottle was still there, stopper in place. Sinera had taken a step back toward the door to the outer office.

I forced my hand to the bottle and picked it up, then opened the bottom drawer of the desk. I pulled out the empty whiskey bottle (I kept it there to remind me how easy it is to be self-destructive and not be so) opened it and dropped the bottle inside. It barely fit through the mouth. I capped the bottle and placed it back into the bottom drawer and slid it closed. Sinera tapped her cheek with a perfectly manicured nail.

Glass is a good choice. It can accept Magick and obscure the thing from any searchers.”

Freaking elves. I pulled the drawer back open then picked the bottle up. I focused, imagining layers of Magick coating the whiskey bottle and trapping the Magickal traces that seeped through the glass. A second layer to do the same again, and a third to hide the traces of the first two. Dragon Magick is so convenient.

It is disconcerting when you do that, Fern. Your Magick smells like a Dragon when cast. Anything sensitive knows a powerful caster is nearby. If you were being searched for your Magick would be a beacon of light in the dark night of the new moon.” Sinera had a rather intricate way of saying ‘Your Magick stinks and anyone can find you when you use it.’ I wondered if the smell as she called it was affected by wind and/or weather.

At least whoever’s looking for the bottle won’t be able to find it.”

Not Magickally, however, you are the one who defeated a Nephilim. Nearly all fae know of you by reputation. Where else would a Judge go to leave a dangerous item?” She made it sound so logical. I knew there were gaps in the process of ‘bottle’ to ‘Fern’, but she was right. If I did have a reputation as wide-ranging as she hinted at, I would be the logical place to look first. Which meant there had to be a better place to hide the bottle. Fawn. They had an evidence locker that it could be hidden away in. But Fawn is my sister, and who would I go to if I wanted to hide something like a soul-sucking bottle? KISS…keep it simple, stupid.

I left the bottle in the bottle at the bottom of the desk. Out of sight out of mind and at least for now out of my hair. I really like the idea of destroying it, but I would need something like Rynun’s blade to do it. That’s what I needed last time. And Rynun was at the lake Mom and Dad’s cabin was…I could give it to Rynun! That was simple. All thoughts of leaving it in the desk flew away and I grabbed the bottle then checked my pockets for keys. Sinera concentrated and was suddenly in camo pants with a blue and black checked shirt with a longbow and a large knife. On her back was a quiver with about twenty arrows. She then broke the bow down and stuffed it in the quiver and zipped up the cover, hiding both bow and arrows inside the camouflaged tube. The knife was in the open with a thread tied around it, a ‘peace tie’ Elves used when visiting the human world. It kept potentially lethal mistakes to a minimum.

Where are we driving?”

We’re going to see an old friend who might be able to break this thing.”

You mean the native spirit. Rynun, correct?”

Yes, him. His knife shattered the original bottle. He might be able to destroy this one also.”

It is a welcome idea. I would prefer it destroyed.” We agreed on that completely. I never wanted another one this close to me again, ever. My skin crawled slightly as the bottle in the whiskey bottle clinked brightly against the glass surrounding it. I grabbed my trench coat that I hardly ever used and put the bottle in an inside pocket. I had Sinera drive us out there, and it was only mildly adventurous. She never drove off the road, and she had a valid license though I wondered if the officer just gave her the license so he didn’t have to sit next to her while she drove. The car moved constantly, at time rocking on the suspension as she put it through a particularly quick shift of direction. I was happy when the turnoff to the cabin appeared ahead of us.

The trees and the land here had been blasted by the Nephilim. Somehow it had killed the forest by drining the life out of the wood, and the animals in the area. Now, most of the dead trees had fallen and a rich moss grew prolifically on them. Small pines, about three meters tall, were rapidly growing to fill in for the dead wood. Insects buzzed and butterflies floated on the breeze. The gravel road widened as it emptied into a clearing. To our left was the cabin. Fawn and I had started coming out here again just after Zhira was born.

The wooden walls had been cleaned and re-painted. The old car that sat next to the cabin didn’t pulse with spiritual malevolence, but was just a normal vehicle. It didn’t run. Dad had pulled the engine long ago and had used the shell of the car to hide the emergency generator from thieves. It must have worked because it was still hidden in the cut out trunk. Mom had made the hood into an impromptu flower garden and Fawn and I had replaced the missing wood she used. The small box garden was in place and this year Fawn was making plans to turn it into a butterfly lure for Zhira. It had been a lot of work, but the results were well worth it. Ahiah was gone, as was nearly all of the damage that the Nephilim had caused.

The only reminders were three bare spots on the ground in the small clearing behind the house and down the hill by the lake. No grass grew on them. Two of the spots were where our parents had spent years trapped by a spell gone wrong, and the third was where the bottle had shattered and Ahiah was drawn into the ground. The spots soured my mood, but that changed when Rynun walked out of the woods to us. Sinera bowed deeply to the little brown man, and I kneeled and gave him a heartfelt hug. He returned it and smiled broadly.

Fern, you’re the picture of health. But you didn’t come here for me to tell you how healthy you are. What reason do you visit an old brown man?” He looked like what he said. Old, brown wrinkled skin that was almost bark-like in its appearance with deep furrows and folds. His eyes were a crystalline grey with a shoulder-length shock of pale hair with a slight brownish tint. In height he barely came to mid-thigh, making him an average six to eight year old in height. His features were a little bulbous like a caricature of a human face. His smile though was pure joy and peace. Kind of like a favorite grandfather, getting along in years but still very spry. It made me feel guilty for not coming by sooner or more often.

I have something bad I want to destroy. You’re the one person I could think of with experience.” His eyebrows raised, then shot up like they were trying to fly off his head.

Spirits no! Fern, you’ve found another!?” He looked stricken, and badly in want of a drink.

There was no help for it. I pulled the whiskey bottle out with the little blue metallic glass bottle inside. He slid backwards, legs sinking into the soft earth to his knees.

An Elf left it on my desk. He said there were three others most likely in Halifax. I haven’t heard of any demons, and you’re still out here rather than in town, so nothing’s come to get, um, you know, Ahi..” I shut up when he started waving his hands wildly. He turned to gaze at Sinera, who responded with a deep bow from the waist arms outspread as if to welcome all to her. The two finished their extremely formal bow, then Rynun turned back to me again.

You’ve come up in the eyes of many, Fernie. An Elf actually working with you. Interesting times indeed.” I rolled my eyes.

Did that just come to you or have you been saving that cliché for just the right moment?”

His laugh was the hearty donkey-like bray I remembered. “Too true Fernie! I can’t put ont over on you, can I? The world changes every day, sometimes more than others.” He gave me another bright smile and started to sink into the ground. I stepped quickly forward before he could disappear and lay my left hand on his shoulder.

Wait, Rynun. Can you destroy this bottle?” I still had it in my right hand. He looked back at the bottle-in-bottle, and shrugged.

Fernie, you and your sister don’t need me. I’m an old man with a few tricks. Wars are for the young to fight.” He disappeared into the earth which closed up behind him like nothing had happened. I got two things from that discussion. One, maybe Fawn and I together could wreck the bottle. Two, something big was coming, and we were going to be in the middle of it. Yeah, they were pretty unsubtle hints. But then, I’m an unsubtle girl and not always very swift on the uptake, and I’d had enough of cryptic meanings to last me a lifetime without more being added to the list. Sinera walked to stand beside me.

So, I take it we’re going to have to find our own way to dispose of it.” That summed things up nicely. I just wish I knew more about what Rynun was talking about. Too much hidden meaning and I didn’t really think I had time to figure out who, what, where, how, and why. Actually, I had part of who; me and Fawn. And I had a big what; war. I don’t know what kind of war, or who is going to be involved on both sides. And I still had the gods cursed bottle.

I shoved it back in my inside pocket with more force than I probably needed. The faint ripping sound as the pocket tore seemed to be just the icing on the cake for the day. I took the keys from Sinera and drove back to my office, and spent the time yelling at the other drivers. It wasn’t proper but it was cathartic.

National Novel Month – Brandished Destiny – part 5

WE get deeper into the situation.



After Judge Caddus left, and thoughtfully left the bottle under my coffee cup, I called Sinera in to ask her take on the conversation.

He is truly disturbed by finding the item. It is not his only concern however. I do not have a notion of what his other concern might be. He is very careful with speech and mannerisms.”

So asking him directly is not going to be an option.”

Sinera shrugged, then sat down in the guest chair. “I do not believe so. If he would have given an indication of concern, I am certain that it would have been obvious enough for a human to recognize.” Ouch, burn. She was correct though. Elves are raised on politics, which means being able to read small tells better than a professional gambler. Humans are just not as in tune with each other as Elves are.

Okay, then let’s find out if there is anyone who has collapsed recently and acting like a vegetable.” It’s what the bottle does to people. I hate the idea of looking for victims, but right now it’s the only idea I had.

Are there any patterns that the previous perpetrator used? If those using the bottles are after similar things, what the original was targeting, these new users may target also.”

I went over to the files and made of show of looking through them, but I had intimate knowledge of Hervald’s habits. He wanted attractive women, and had frequented singles bars for them. I don’t think that someone would do the same thing. But it didn’t hurt to check out. Singles bars are good places to make contacts. Hervald went for the high-end places. Not the best place to hunt targets. Missing debutantes tend to stand out. Homeless don’t.

Sinera, can you check with the police if there’s a sudden rash of disappearances of homeless people in any one area? They seem like a natural target if someone wants to hide what they’re doing.”

Sinera nodded. “I can do the search. Would you prefer immediately, or Monday morning?”

Immediately. We’re on the clock. We can charge…” I smacked my head. He left before I could bring up price. Note again, listen for what Elves DON”T say. Not only had he hooked me with the bottle, he’s getting my efforts for free. I wanted to pull my hair for falling for such a trick. Sinera looked at me with an enigmatic smile that perhaps I was actually learning something. Freaking Elves.

I pulled out the old file on Hervald Thensome and walked with it in hand back to my desk and read the notes I made. The first one “This sucks!” was how I felt right now. Score one for old notes. I’d ran into Hervald the third bar I had spent an hour at. He invited me up to an apartment, then tried suck my sould out with the bottle. He ended up getting himself when I tripped him trying to escape. The question now would be Fawn. She deserved to know. As a cop, she had resources I couldn’t touch, and I had contacts that she could never talk to. It was a good balance when we weren’t on opposite sides of the law.

I sat down and grabbed the old candlestick phone and dialed her number. Each rotation of the dial was pure enjoyment. How many people do you know that can still use a rotary phone? It’s fun compared to the push button or touchscreen. Slower definitely, but fun. The desk sergeant, Richie Pomeroy, picked up on the third ring.

Hauser House, Pomeroy speaking, how may I help you?”

Hi Richie. Fawn in?”

The line was quiet for a few moments then Richie said with exaggerated politeness, “She’s still out at the scene. I’ll pass on the request.”

Richie didn’t like me much, and the feeling was mutual. I didn’t like him in high school when his idea of paying attention to me was as a way to hang with Fawn. We both ran him off when we got wise to what he was doing. After that things happened to my locker and any stuff I didn’t keep an eye on. The culmination was the self-defense classes. His dad ran the class and he and I were called up to demonstrate a few self-defense moves against a surprise attacker. I threw Richie down harder than I needed to once. He retaliated with a full football tackle which knocked the wind out of me. When I got my wind back, I went after him. His dad and Fawn had to break us apart.

He mellowed and turned into a good cop, but he still held a grudge, and I wouldn’t let go of mine either. We were unfailingly polite, but that was it. Strange how that works. Maybe the Elves weren’t so different after all. And maybe I’m a six foot Amazon.

After the call, I doodled random notes to see if any inspiration would hit and I’d have a way to start this investigation. Sinera would take likely most of the day remaining talking to the various Houses to see what, if anything unusual had happened in their territory. I started to get up and check on Sinera and get a few numbers to call and give me something to do instead of brooding.

Fatelli Investigations.”

Shortstuff, we need to talk. I have something creepy as hell and want your take on it.”

Some victim a vegetable and glassy eyed like three years ago?”

She sputtered on the other end of the phone and I would have grinned at surprising her but the upside down cup on my desk with one of the four missing Glass Bottles under it sobered me up real quick.

I got a visit from Judge Caddus from the Elven enclave. He convinced me that we have a real problem. So yeah, I wanted to talk to you. Richie Pomeroy has a message from me to call since you weren’t at your desk.” I took the next few minutes describing our chat and what the Judge had left on my desk. Fawn remained quiet through the whole talk, but I could feel her anger building. Some deranged THING brought those back to Dayning. She did not want to wait for the body count to rise.

Do you think that demon’s back too?” Fawn. Direct and to the point. Forget the bottles and focus on the bottle user. That’s the best way to shut trouble down.

No idea right now. I’m hoping he’s gone and not coming back. Once was more than painful enough for me.” I rubbed the nub of my little finger again. It had started throbbing when I saw that bottle again. Fawn gave me a complete run-down on the victim. Young, blonde, pretty, and missing from work after not calling in sick yesterday. This was almost identical to Hervald’s victims. I really REALLY didn’t want it to be Hervald again.

She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Fawn sounded sad and angry at the same time. “Yes, she’s gone, if it really is that bottle again.” She paused for a moment. “Come by the station, you’re going to be a professional consultant to our house. You’ll get full pay and full access to our database and whatever we get from overseas or the ‘states.”

Do you think it’s world-wide? We’re just Halifax, not the capital.” I hadn’t even thought of the possibility beyond our little city on the island. Halifax wasn’t always little. Over one hundred fifty years ago it was the largest staging area for ships bound to Europe that existed. World War 2 as it was called demanded equipment, food, and troops to fight off a merciless regime. Halifax had hundreds of ships if not thousands, pass through her port back then. Now, we were still a shipping port, but just one of many. The real large ones were south and west, where the majority of Canada’s population still resided. Montreal and Quebec City were the real shipping magnets. Boston and New York are the largest ports near by in the USA.

No, it’s here with us. Part of me wants to know why us, why here, why now. Just, why. It may be we’re just seeing a tree and missing the forest. But there’s not been anything from the USA or Europe that says there were any weirdness like here.”

Did what we ran into get all that much publicity?” I should have thought of that question ages ago. I remember being written up and what had occurred did reach the papers and the ‘net. It died fast though, more lurid stories pushed The bottle story out of the news in a few days. That’s what I remembered at least.

I don’t remember too much. I know the station was up in arms with the same guy disappearing from cells without any understanding why. And when we got him, he was clinically dead. The coroner nearly blew a gasket when he got ready to autopsy Hervald. He disappeared right out of the cooler, and no one was in the place except the coroner and he never left it. There are still stories floating around about it at the house.”

So maybe not so much publicity, but enough weird to make those around the case remember very well according to Fawn.

Getting back to the offer, I think it’s a good idea. I can watch your back and vice-versa. It was our folks that made the trouble, and what do you want to bet it’ll come looking for us because of that?”

“Shortstuff, that is paranoia talking, and yes I just happen to agree. I’ve seen plenty of weirdness and more than a few times it came back around to its origins. We can’t rule out a link. I hate thinking about it, but we, and especially you, have seen what happens. There’s no such thing as coincidence, it’s all Magick and weirdness.”

I couldn’t argue. I’m sure Sinera was listening to the conversation. She told me once that her hearing could hear a fly’s buzz on the far window in my office from the hallway. That’s way beyond what a human could ever hope to do. Magick could augment hearing so humans could, but Magick is always of the ‘direct’ approach if no detail is added. So, hearing would be boosted to hear the fly, and every other sound would be too. I wouldn’t want to experience having everything dialed to twenty on a ten point scale. That’d be a good way to liquefy your brains. How Sinera handles it is beyond me. I put the receiver back on its hook and set the telephone back on the desk. Sinera came in with some papers in hand. She placed them on my desk next to the candlestick telephone.

What is this?” I was hoping she’d give me a clue what the papers were about. I was certain it had to do with our conversation as Sinera tends to listen and anticipate what I might ask for. She’s not perfect at it, but she is a lot better than I ever could be.

National Novel Writing Month – Brandished Destiny – part 4

Here’s part 4, and Fern’s involvement becomes much more personal.

In truth, I never had a job I wanted to turn down so badly as this one. But one thing had changed my mind. The Troll. I saw Zhirk, who Zhira was named after in my head. His face dissolving in the shotgun blast. I shut my eyes again and went through my office again mentally, remembering where each item of my office was. It helped divert my mind from the horror of those vivid memories and let me release them instead of replaying each one again and again in my head.

Judge Caddus, I must admit I would rather never to have anything to do with that object you brought.” I held up a hand as his face screwed up in stricken despair, which was a shock to see on his normally serene and stoic features. “I will help you. One thing I am sure we both have learned is that if you do nothing, evil like that flourishes.” There was a faint ‘snap’ like a static shock. I, for better AND worse now, had a binding fae contract with the Judge. Gods and powers, I sounded like a freaking superhero or something. How much more pompous could I sound? I guess it was the right bit of bombast, because the Judge’s features smoothed out and I think I detected relief emanating from him.

I thank you for your reminder that no one being need stand alone. We have to trust, and reach out to confront imbalance and chaos.” That was one way to put it. I’m certain I don’t mind imbalance and chaos, we humans live with that all the time. Perhaps they look at Imbalance as Injustice. I don’t know for certain. What I was absolutely sure of however, was that bottle was made to make misery and death. Ahiah had drunk from it and become immensely powerful. That was burned into my memories. What I wasn’t sure of was the ‘why’. Why did it show up? Why did and Elf have it? I could somewhat understand his coming here. I was mixed up in that horror before. Both I and Fawn.

I’m certain he came to me because of our prior meeting, rather than go to Fawn. She represents human law, and Elvish law is not close at all to it. What we judge by is intent and morals of our society. What Elves judgment are certainly not on those qualities. I’m not certain what they are based upon, but one thing we are certain of is Elves despise Magick used for ill. They rightly hate and fear those powers that have free will to meddle in the physical world, especially those of malevolent nature.

What we would be facing was the nightmare that created that bottle. Be it human, fae, or other, it was a monster that needed be caught and put away. I’d prefer it gone and buried and the bottles broken and tossed in the ocean. The problem would be to hunt it down. Which meant locating the source of the one the Judge had brought.

I looked over at the cup resting over the cursed bottle. “Judge Caddus, where did you acquire that particular item?” Diplomacy. Yep. No vicious names for things. No strong emotions. Nope, not a thing to unbalance the calm, or whatever passed for it currently.

The bottle was procured from the remains of a burned oak on what you name Prince Edward Island.”

I went cold with memories. Cobb. The tree. Kent and Kevin. Anolyn. Being possessed by him, and his rage at Cobb for making those abominations. I’d thought the dragon fire would have burnt them all. I looked up at the Judge, who seemed anything but calm now that we were discussing the main reason for our meeting. He appeared suddenly careworn. Deep lines were etched on his face that I hadn’t noticed earlier. Fae magic or just normal human inattention. Neither he or I reached for the cup to expose the bottle underneath.

In the reopening of the way to PEI, we found the devastation that had been wrought upon the tree, and the abominations that were warped into its heart. We found the remains, and the tools to create.” He paused, as if to add a more colorful term, but refrained and continued. “We found a crate made of bespelled wood which had been destoryed by dragon fire. The Bottles inside broken and rendered inert.” He paused for a moment, like he was a movie actor about to dispense an ominous statement to make the audience gasp.

There were four empty locations in the crate. We procured this one from an Elf that had used it on his own.”

My stomach churned at the thought of three of those things loose. But why Halifax? Wouldn’t Europe be a more fertile hunting ground for the users? Why here?

I have found myself wondering why we are the recipient of such a menace. It would meuch simpler to go where the population is greatest. There one could hunt and use the bottle to their heart’s content. Disappearances would be lost in the myriad of other disappearances that occur daily in large populations. Your Nova Scotia is far from being a huge metropolis such as London. What would bring something so dangerous here?”

We were on the same wavelength, which made me wonder at the apparent coincidence. With Elves, never expect coincidence. I learned that already. Never ever trust in coincidence. That trust will trip you up at the worst possible time. So using the ‘there are no coincidences’ rule, the Judge was reading my mind or following my intent and using that to reinforce the idea in hopes of something breaking loose. I suppose it’s his method of helping, but, so not helpful.

If you’re observing my thoughts, I recommend against it. Agreements of that nature do not help discovering new paths. Right now I’d love to talk to the person who had this bottle in their possession. Asking the right questions could get us answers where the others are.”

He bowed contritely. “I do apologize. This is a very dangerous investigation. I had hoped to assist in creating active thoughts that would find a method of advancing along this perilous conundrum. Please forgive my earnest error. I meant no insult nor harm.” Take note. He did apologize for his enthusiasm, not for trying to manipulate my thoughts. Always pay attention to what Elves say, and more to what they DON’T. I decided to let it go. IN his own way, the Judge was doing his best to be helpful. My job, as I saw it, was to track down the rest of the bottles. Just how was the real question.

Brandished Destiny – part 3

This is going to be longer as I’ve missed some days adding in here.  I have been surprised by all the recapping going on and wonder why in this book I have so much compared to the others.  Perhaps it’s because I saw this as the last, but now am not sure if it will be.  Regardless, here’s part 3.



Larry waved us over to their pine picnic table. He had thoughtfully set out corn on the cob, American style french fries, water, and a salad bowl for a snack. He and Fawn had learned how much work went into marriage, and that no one family ever had it like the fairy tales. They had more good days than bad now, and Zhira was one reason why. I’d just sat down to grab an ear of corn, when my cellphone buzzed. An instant later, a shrill ringing came from an open window in their house.

Fawn grumbled and stalked toward the back screen door while I stayed outside with my cellphone so I could have a bit more peace and quiet since Larry and Zhira had followed her inside. Sinera, my secretary, didn’t waste any time with greetings.

Fern, you have a potential client waiting for you here. What time shall I tell them you’ll be into the office?” I blinked.

Umm, today’s Sunday. I’ll be in the office tomorrow morning.” I held the cellphone in front of me and checked the date. It agreed with me that it indeed was Sunday, and that at twenty-one Celsius, with clear skies, a hint of a north wind, and no threat of rain, it was a good day to be outside.

I was contacted directly, and informed I must call you. I do not believe this is one client who will appreciate sitting in your office until tomorrow morning.”

The identity of the client was not my first thought. My first thought was how did she contact Sinera directly? Sinera’s an elf. She doesn’t have an official number. All of my calls get routed to an answering service when no one’s in the office, which is how weekends are, or are supposed to be. The immediate thought was that she’d been contacted magickally. If that was the case, it was someone we already knew because they knew of Sinera. Thinking about it, beyond my previous clients, who mostly preferred Magick stay away from them, had no idea how to get hold of Sinera. All I remember them using was the advertised phone number. That this person knew about Sinera well enough to contact her directly meant it was someone who knew her. That meant Elves. My client had to be an Elf. I have an aversion bordering on an allergy to Elves. Sinera is the notable exception. Elves live in Underhill. They do come to our world and trade goods, a number of them Magickal, that they sell, or trade for something they consider of value. Your guess is as good as mine what each one wants.

Elves are scrupulously truthful, but that does not mean they’re honest. An Elf will always look for the best way to present the truth and in such a manner so you want to believe it. They tell you what you want to hear using the truth as the lever and it’s a bit like the old joke about ‘proper diplomacy’ which is telling someone to go to hell in such a manner they look forward to the trip.

The most classic example of Elves I can think of is trading something for a service. That the service could span generations of humans doesn’t make the service any less legitimate, and it’s not slavery. It’s payment for a good or a service. Yes, it’s indentured servitude, but not slavery. Slavery is forcing servitude on another, indenturment is someone agreeing to it.

Should I be concerned that we might be dealing with a fae?”

I would say yes to the might.”

I stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking. Sinera politely gave me time to gather my thoughts.

Is it someone that you and I are familiar with?”

Yes, you have had some unfortunate dealings in a legal decision some time ago.”

Legal decision. Only one person fit that description. Judge Caddus. He was forced to declare me beholden to the Elf Lord Cobb when I falsely accused him of deliberately bespelling me. His daughter did it, but the hard fact was he wasn’t the caster. No one except Cobb was happy with that, especially the Judge.

Has he indicated what the reason for this emergency?”

He has said he will only speak with you face to face, in your office.”

So not helpful.

I’ll be there within the hour. If he offers anything in the way of a hint or explanation, give me a call. I’d like not to go in cold.”

Understood. I will inform you if more information is revealed before you arrive.”

I ended the call and grabbed a second ear of corn. The Judge could wait a few more minutes. After nibbling my lunch, I stepped on inside to tell Fawn and Larry that I had to go over to my office. As I pulled the screen door open I spotted Fawn rummaging in the closet by the front door. She pulled out her police jacket she’d gotten as a new officer. She still wore it in preference to anything else. She settled it on her shoulders and flipped her blonde hair back, then bent down to give Zhira a hug.

I have to go to work sweetie. I’ll be home soon.” She straightened up and shared a hug with Larry. They held onto each other for a moment more, looking into each others eyes then they noticed me watching.

He shortstuff. I have to go in. There’s a crime that doesn’t appear standard. So the special unit will be covering it.”

I nodded. “It’s a day for it. I just got a call from Sinera that there’s a client who wants to see me now of all times. I have to go too.”

Larry reached down and picked up Zhira. She giggled and leaned over to Fawn to give her a kiss on the cheek. She then wiggled in Larry’s arm to give me one on the cheek and a pat of her hand.

We keep corn” she said smiling.

Yeah you will ‘cause it’s your favorite. I know you” I said laughing. There’s something about laughing innocence that lightens any mood. Here I was going to talk with a Elven Judge, and all I could think of was how nice a day it was. Children are magic.

The good mood stayed with me on my drive over to the office. I pulled into the near empty parking lot and parked the shiny black PT cruiser under the lone light post in the lot. It was still missing the rear seats, but I hardly used them. The large back without the seats allowed me to carry a whole lot of things. I felt a stab of melancholy as I got out, closed and locked the door. There not so many around now which made it stand out more. TO do my job I was likely going to have to get a newer old car so it would fit in more when I had to stake out an area. The bright blue sky gave the red brick a more vivid color as I walked to the front door. Reality intruded on my happy mood as I began considering more the reasons an Elf Judge would need to see me so desperately.

I couldn’t think of a reason why and that bothered me more the closer I got to my office. When I pushed the door open of my classic nineteen thirties noir style office, enjoying the gritty ambiance with the four drawer file cabinets bolted to the Murphy bed. The four-blade fan turned silently and its refurbished bearings over my large Oak desk with candlestick phone and new Rolodex that sat in gleaming black on the polished wood. The new bricks stood out against the older faded ones, with the only thing missing was the neon glow of the building’s sign because it was too light outside for it’s orange color to be seen. This was home, moreso than any other place I’d lived.

Judge Caddus was in the guest chair next to my desk, in full formal dress. His dark blue robe covered him from shoulder to ankle and his boots were of bright blue laquered leather with some silver highlights. His pale hair was in a long tail between his shoulders. He stood up and bowed politely as I moved to my desk and sat down. He sat after me, telling me that he was requesting my help rather than standing and demanding it. Sinera had schooled me on some of the Elvish eitquette.

Whoever bows lower is the one requesting the meeting, and who stands last is the one who is petitioning the other for assistance. If they remain standing, they will be negotiating from a position of power and making demands. If they sit, then it will be as a potential ally or looking for assistance. When both the standing last and sitting with the other party, it is one coming with a request of the person they’re meeting with.

That he sat with me and stood until I began sitting meant he was not trying to pull rank. He was genuinely concerned about something, and that something was extremely upsetting, if I understood Sinera’s lessons properly. I smiled and did what I always did, start with small talk. It gets people, most of them, to be more at ease.

Hello, Judge. It’s been a while since the last time we saw each other. I’m hoping you have been doing well for yourself.” He looked at me like I’d grown horns and hissed at him. Too late. Whatever gaffe I’d done I did accidentally. Judge Caddus calmed himself and realized the mistake. He actually smiled, if the faint raising of the lips was an Elvish smile.

I am also unfamiliar with proper human reaction and form. Let us both understand our differences and allow each the room for unintentional error.”

I smiled. He’d spotted the problem and offered a complete solution that blamed neither and focused on understanding. I am nowhere near so diplomatic. I much preferred not fighting, but I had little tolerance for errors that could be avoided with a little effort such as study or practice.

I nodded to indicate I noticed his layered solution.

Yes, let’s not get in a fight because of a misinterpretation of someone’s intent.” I paused a moment to let him consider the words. “If I am not being overbearing, may I ask what had you contact my partner Sinera directly and request this meeting on a day that is almost never an office work day?”

He stared at me for a long moment. His eyes locked on mine and I don’t think he ever blinked. He sat and stared, as if trying to find a way to broach a subject. Finally he sighed, then reached up a sleeve on his robe. He took a few moments to locate something by touch, then removed his closed hand and placed on my desk in front of me. He opened his hand and withdrew it, leaving behind a small metallic-like blue glass bottle. The same kind of bottle that cost my friend Zhirk his life and Hervald Thensome his soul.

I’m not sure if I shrieked and scrambled back or just teleported to where I was, mashed back against the wall next to the window that had been replaced during that first hellish case. The Judge, thoroughly alarmed at my reaction quickly grabbe my coffee mug and placed it over the bottle, covering it and hiding it from sight. I struggled for breath for a few moments before the adrenalin shakes hit. I was wired, and scared to death. I had smashed that thing! At PEI Anolyn had deliberately targeted the box with glass bottles and burned it to ash, along with the huge oak tree that Cobb had used as a torture chamber to make them from the agony and despair of his victims.

I could hear Kent Nix and Kevin Love scream their lives out all over again. More than anything at that moment, I wanted to grab the bottle of scotch and drown my fear in the bitter alcohol and forget that cursed thing under my upended coffee cup. It’d take the better part of a year of twice-weekly therapy to finally get a control on all the trauma that went with the previous jobs. My head was more or less back on straight, and I didn’t wake up screaming or paralyzed by nightmares.

Now, that thing shows up on my desk out of the blue. Well, blue robes anyway. Snark and sarcasm has always been a way I handle stress. It just isn’t the best choice because giving someone attitude when they’ve got the upper hand is just begging for bat things to happen. It had more than once and somehow I managed to avoid most of the bad intentions sent my way. I rubbed the nub of my little finger while Judge Caddus attempted to apologize by bowing his head almost to the desk top in contrition. Now was the time to use that diplomatic moment.

Judge Ca-ddus. I apologize for alarming you.” I took a shaky breath and walked back to my chair, turned it deliberately slowly back to the desk and sat down. “That item you thoughtfully brought me has many bad memories and experiences tied to it. I, uh, did not realize that any still existed.” Another shaky but calmer breath helped focus me. I closed my eyes and pictured my room mentally, using its familiarity as a calming influence for my body. I could feel the wire-tight tension ease as I mentally pictured each item in the room.

I humbly accept your generosity and would have you know I meant no disrespect nor harmful intent. You are one of the few that know the nature of that creation and I am very desirous of temporarily procuring your abilities and expertise to determine the reason for its reappearance.” He gestured at my cup. “This was found in the hands of an Elf that had used it to overwhelm a Troll. The Elf has been judged and executed in accordance and balance to the crime committed. I have brought this to you to request your expert assistance.”

National Novel Writing Month – Brandished Destiny – part 2

Here’s the second part comprising the end of Chapter one.  It’s a lot of exposition and talking to oneself/scribe.  There’s also some explanation of the last book and what happened to Fern and Fawn at the compound.


Fire, water, earth, air. The four classical alchemical elements. I could lift and toss rocks up to the size of a bulldozer over two kilometers, create heat that could melt brick and cause the earth to glaze. I could form shapes from my imagination, just like the earlier ramp to divert Fawn’s attack away from me.

That brings me to the most interesting part. If we’re within a few meters of each other, our skills blend. Each of us is the power source for the other. We’re both huge Magick batteries.

We can do those Magickal things each other can do ourselves. Fawn can punch power at me; I can harden Magick around me. They’re not quite the same, but it is close in form. If we hold hands, we become one source that can do everything. We think the same, hear the same. Our powers become one all encompassing cauldron of power that is anything we deem it to be. It’s intoxicating, and scares the both of us all the way to our toenails.

Something that feels that good without any apparent limits is something to avoid. Magick is seductive enough on regular days. It’s why a number of potential wizards don’t live long enough to become wizards. They play with power and want more to play with because it’s like a heavy shot of your favorite method of getting high. Drunk on power is not just a metaphor. Knowing when you’re getting into that kind of power is what keeps you alive and sane. It made us paranoid. We did some research and had Larry help us out. We found nothing describing what was going on with us.

Larry is still hunting through whatever’s on the ‘net. And we live as quietly as we can with this power and try not to go too crazy with it all. Thankfully Zhira seems unaffected by it. She’s a normal active little girl with curly Ash blonde hair and the most intense violet eyes. Eyes like that usually presages Magickal ability, and with her parents, it’s kind of a given she’d be some kind of Magick wielder. Honestly, I’m looking forward to seeing it and dreading it at the same time.

Magick is has been the one big constant in my life since the craziness started happening with Hervald Thensome. I could definitely do without more crazy Magick. Which was why Fawn and I were practicing. You know the old saying of ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’? We knew it was going to happen. Magick’s got its own agenda, and like it or not anyone that practices Magick is part of that ongoing agenda. Anyways, reminiscing can get you really lost in your own head. However, sometimes the past comes knocking at your door. When it does, you really should avoid answering. I’d left the door wide open and the past came waltzing through in full party mode. What’s a girl going to do? Well, in this case, throw a party.

National Novel Writing Month – First update of ‘Brandished Destiny’

National Novel writing month got off with a literal bang for me.  I got in 3500 words which is a new record for any output that I can remember.  I’ll be posting 2-3 pages of the new novel here in the following days fore two reasons.  First is to let those interested see the progress of the fourth book of the Glass Bottles series which is tentatively titled ‘Brandished Destiny’.  THe second is a spur for myself to keep up the pace and not fall into overthinking the story, which had clobbered my writing before.  So now that you’ve made it through the introduction, here’s the first post of 2020’s ‘Brandished Destiny’


The blast of power blotted out the cloudless blue sky with a rippling distortion that turned everything grey. It smashed into me like a runaway truck. I held my ground and diverted the power upwards by imagining a curved surface in front of me. The surface did its job and the power flashed upwards to break apart in blots of grey surrounded by flecks of blue. Imagination is a great weapon when you don’t need a circle to cast, but you pay for it with headaches and lethargy. I had both in spades.

We’d finally gotten a handle on what we experienced facing off against a huge entity that a weird cult had put their compound over. Both Fawn and I suddenly could do major magic without needing any kind of practice or particular item to focus. It was just there. Believe me, we were very happy it was just there back then. We’d have died along with a lot of naked senseless people trapped in cabins that were going to be used for some kind of sacrificial ritual that would have wakened said enormous entity. That we’re still alive is a testament to sheer wild luck, and perhaps magic’s own agenda.

Larry has never heard of this kind of thing ever happening before. If Larry doesn’t know, it’s a good bet that it’s something potentially unprecedented. Which ratcheted up our own paranoia about becoming lab rat test subjects for the powers-that-be in Canadian government. We’ve kept what happened secret for our own peace of mind. Neither of us wants to give up our life as it is.

Fawn and Larry, through a lot of counseling and a lot of work, stuck together. Zhira, their daughter was born healthy and Fawn was pulled back from death’s embrace via shocking her heart back into action. I helped out for the first five months until Fawn told me to get lost and take care of myself. She’d recovered totally, and was the picture of Amazonian health. If anything, she looked more together than she had since high school.

She was back on her job and had been promoted again to precinct captain and still managed to hang on to the leadership of Dayning/Halifax police department’s magickal response team. That organization went through three incarnations before settling on the current the current ‘Special Response Unit’ moniker. The SRU was her special baby. Larry had given up on trying to get her to drop that position, but had at least gotten a compromise with her being the precinct captain which meant her forays into the field were now more limited.

Fawn relaxed and glanced over to her left, where Zhira was making sand castles with daddy Larry. She turned her gaze back to me.

One more time?”

No, I’m wore out. Spend some of that extra energy on those two” I laughed, then winced. I’ve said in the past that Magick is a pain, and now it was a literal pain in the head, and the metaphorical neck. It’d be a few minutes before the headache went away, but at least it’d go. I hadn’t been terribly interested in practicing Magick, especially since it was something that just came natural after being dragon possessed. What changed I don’t know, but after it happened the cases I got hooked into suddenly were a lot more weird and unsettling. The giant entity was the first and the most disturbing to me. The others were just plain weird.

The latest example was that I had to go over to Klaus’s liquor store down the block from my office, and help him solve a problem with missing stock. The security system he had showed no one in the place, and now one leaving. Bottles and kegs were full one moment, and empty the next. Not gone. Empty. How someone empties a full bottle of alcohol without removing the cap would have been beyond me before Prince Edward Island, now it could have been simple. I’d have to do it one bottle at a time, but I could do it. Whoever had played this trick was way more practiced than I.

Klaus called me back later saying he’d found the missing booze. One thing you should remember about Klaus is that he’s a bookie. He’s not big-time, and he deliberately keeps his client list small, almost like a hobby than a business. Anyways, he found the booze when he opened the door to the small back room where he runs it. All of the booze had been transported into the room and nearly drowned him when he opened the door.

As it was his equipment was shot, and I think the critters in the sewers had a grand old time with that much booze flowing into the system all at once. I never did find out why or how that happened. Rynun wasn’t hanging around the alley any more so I couldn’t ask him. He’d returned to the area around my folk’s old cabin since the spell conjuring up Ahiah was finally broken. I rubbed the nub of my little finger. Ahiah had bitten it off during that fight. He’d been banished back to the ground.

I’d tried to forget that particular nightmare for two years without any luck. It seems more than just my Magickal abilities were improved. My memory was nearly eidetic now. Maybe that was a reason why I could do spells so easy and without a circle. I could remember every sense and feeling, for lack of a better description, of each spell.

It made my head swim thinking about it and I turned my attention to my niece. Zhira was two. Her birthday was last week, and she’d gotten a genie costume. Yes, she wanted one. How did we know? She told us. Yes, at twenty months she was forming sentences. Not great ones, but definite, distinct, sentences. She saw the costume on sale for Halloween. Yes, that’s still a holiday, only one with more meaning than before. Regardless, she saw it and wanted it. And ‘Auntie’ Fern just couldn’t say no.

She hadn’t taken it off since she’d opened her present, with exceptions to wash it. I could only wonder what she’d be like by four if this was two. Maybe she’d be casting spells though gods I hoped not. Which brought my thoughts over to Fawn and I.

I find it amazing how Magick fitted itself to us in such disparate forms and yet so appropriately. Fawn’s Magick works internally. Basically she can harden her skin, increase her strength, speed, vision, hearing, etc. Anything dealing with physical attributes, she can do it. Me, mine’s all external.