Chapter 142: 142
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He walked up to the counter and paid for the meal. With one challenging look back at the two ladies, he walked out to his car. Starting it up, he slowly began pulling out. Seconds later, the two women were getting in the car while the two men, who'd been stunned by the women moving so quickly, were trying to play catch up. They got a face full of dust and a couple pieces of gravel.
For her part, Wendy looked amused but Jen was visibly angry. "Why did you do that? Is a simple attempt at courteously telling two men that you were with us so hard?"
Orison smirked and said, "Do I look 'simple' to you? I won't pick a fight with you I can't win but how hard is it to keep them from getting rid of my pie? Defendeth my pie and I shall defeneth thine honor!"
Wendy snorted from trying to hold back a laugh as Jen's face relaxed some. "It's still a strike against you. We didn't start it either so don't try to accuse us of the jealousy play deal breaker."
Orison smiled and didn't say a word. Once they got to the hotel they'd be staying at, he opened the door for Wendy and helped her carry her luggage.
Making decent time to the ladies' room, Wendy turned to Orison and said, "I don't mind you using me as a foil for Jen's attention but I'm kind of curious, am I not that appealing of a possibility?"
The young mage said, "In truth, more so, but this trip is business for you. We're just cover... I don't know and have no desire to guess why you feel like you need one to see a book in a museum but to return the favor of being my foil, I'll be your cover. No questions asked."
Wendy's smile brightened a few watts as she said, "Mr. Cantrip, I do believe I may not be so interested in just being a foil."
A feather light kiss landed on his cheek and she was in her room with the door closed before he could formulate any coherent response. A mean feat considering his improved mental and physical responses.
Jen came walking up awkwardly with three suitcases in hand and said, "Don't think that ignoring me and kissing up to Wendy means I'll- You won't even hear me out!? That's two strikes, you hear me!"
Orison continued to treat her like air as he walked to his room, using as little effort as he could to avoid whatever small piece of trash she had lobbed at him. Playing courtship games with Jen was just for fun anyway. He never thought she'd take him seriously being that she thought he was sixteen and her being twenty-one but it was interesting to try. Preoccupied with the mystery around Wendy, he really couldn't be bothered to care much.
Sighing and looking put out, Wendy said, "Jen's gone off the deep end and if I don't go with her, the guy she roped into taking us to the museum might do, who knows what."
Showing every ounce of the disappointment he felt, Orison said, "I'll be right behind you."
Weakly smiling, she said, "Sorry about this... You look great, by the way."
"On the contrary, I feel like your efforts have completely eclipsed me. How am I supposed to be your cover like this?" Orison said playfully.
Wendy quick timed back to wherever Jen was waiting with one last look back.
Orison muttered, "Jen's as transparent as flute crystal but if Wendy's playing me too, I'm in trouble because I've completely taken the bait."
He strolled out to his car to see a sight that completely caught him off guard. His tires were slashed and his windshield had a baseball bat's length dent in it. Checking around the area for people who may have been waiting for him or a random passersby, he quickly got to work laying a circle and performing a round of mends. Five minutes and a lot of anger later, Orison started his car and made his way to the museum. Three more blocks down, the car died, wouldn't restart and he wasn't mechanically inclined enough to figure out what the problem was.
With some help from a person at a nearby shop, the young mage got a tow truck to a nearby garage and a cab to the museum after getting a call through to Jacob to pick up the car after the mechanic was done. There was a viciousness to it all that screamed vendetta and the only culprits he could think of would be the two guys at the cafe but he had no idea how they would have found him. Nothing added up right.
The best thing he could think of was to go and talk with Jen and Wendy. They probably wouldn't know anything either but perhaps the guy Jen was with might hold a clue or the answer itself. It ended up being a charity night and there were a lot more high profile people than usual, especially for an exhibit that had already been on display once the previous weekend.
Orison paid the exorbitant price of ten dollars for admission and began looking around. Near a buffet set up in a giant ballroom-like foyer, he saw Jen speaking with a person whose visage he'd seen plenty of times enough to hate it viscerally on sight. With the focus of everyone around the table on the man, there were plenty of 'Mr. Ashland's being thrown around but the young mage knew him as Smiley.
"A weak aura of corruption is in his very blood. He's either swapped some potency out with a devil or he's the offspring of one with a mortal. That would explain so much if it was true," Orison muttered as he approached.
The young mage walked up to Jen and said without preamble, "Where's Wendy?"
Jen was about to answer when a wisp of corrupt essence caressed around her aura, turning her frowning face into a sneer.
Smiley said to his surrounding admirers, "Children who plays adult games should scurry home. Really, it's embarrassing when youths delude themselves and-"
Orison's control slipped a little. To keep from lashing out in a way that would only give the snake charmer more ammo to work with, he channeled the rage into his bloodlines melded into the white hole ring. He'd never actively tried to access the unique qualities of his supernatural bloodlines since they had been contained but being stimulated in such a way, they did produce results.
Eyes snapped to him, a mix of mild awe with slow building fascination. In particularly sensitive individuals, he could smell a touch of fear and excitement.
Taking advantage of the attention, Orison said with false cold ambivalence, "A flesh peddling predator has no moral ground to judge what anyone should do, much less children... Jen, where is Wendy? This man is a monster and your friend is in danger."
While he was distracted trying to get Jen to talk, Smiley was doing his silver tongued best to rally outrage against Orison. When a security guard put a hand on the young mage's shoulder, he froze the man in place with a reptilian stare and turned to Smiley.
"I'm spiteful enough to rip your mask off right here, pimp. There might be consequences but I'll survive them. Will you?" He emphasized the point by letting some Caribbean blue spirit shine through.
Uncertainty wavered on Smiley's face for a moment until it disappeared like it had never been, replaced by utter confidence.
Seeing that the man was about to cause a scene of his own, Orison said, "Your curse twister behind the scenes and your boss will be dancing around fire ringed rose crosses if they step out to save you from what I'll do if you utter one... more... syllable."
The people surrounding them were confused but the momentum of will shifted to the young mage's side and sway over the people followed. The next moment, Orison was struck by a curse with enough lethality to kill five men instantly. The comet trail of inert essence behind it was enough to drain the life out of someone in its own right. The young mage drew it into his space and pulled the gray patch emerging on his skin to a place it couldn't be seen.
Smiley's trademark smirk was blooming at the sight but Orison's arrogant head tilt and unfaltering gaze made the man turn pale. "I've already asked twice. Either I get an answer or I follow through."
The devil partially possessing Jen, released its hold enough for the woman to say, "The last I saw, she was heading out back with two of Mr. Ashland's friends but she didn't look like she was being forced to do anything she didn't want to. You're overreacting. Are you jealous-"
Orison saw that the devil was slowly pushing in on Jen, twisting her thoughts and heightening negative emotions. As soon as he saw signs of what was happening, he grabbed an abandoned champagne flute off the table, dumped some silver flakes and sea salt into it from his space and tossed the contents in her face. Invisible to everyone else, the possessor devil, which was only tenuously connected to Jen, writhed and let out a squeal only the supernaturally sensitive would notice.
"Cool your head. I'm worried about Wendy because of him. Feel free to do whatever you want." Orison said as he looked around, hoping for someone to have noticed the devil screech. A few did but they didn't seem to be interested in interfering.
A woman's voice behind him said, "It's sweet that you're worried but I'm fine."
Smiley, who was breaking out in a cold sweat, tried to immediately take control of the narrative but Wendy shut him down with, "The same can't be said for this vile man's thugs... I hope you have medical coverage for your employees, Mr. Ashland."
In a last ditch, Smiley said, "An amusing stage play. Do you often grift in a group or prefer to scam people individually with this contrived nonsense?"
Sidling up beside Jen, Wendy pulled out a silver hair pin and severed the dark cord connecting the possessing devil to her friend.
Looking at Orison, Wendy said, "Your wake up call to my friend was a little too much. She's practically faint from embarrassment."
Orison smiled slightly with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes , "Of course. Twas overwrought with worry, milady. Making amends post hast is my utmost duty."
Taking the other side of the dull eyed Jen, Orison helped Wendy escort her away. Their apparent lack of concern and acknowledgment of Smiley's previous and continued vitriol was its own form of powerful rebuke.
As they made their way to the woman's restroom, Wendy said, "I'm sure you have questions. I know I do."
"Tons but my focus is on trying to make a good impression. Is it working?" The young mage said, projecting an overly dramatic hopeful look.
Wendy giggled but it came across as demure rather than childish. "Maybe a little too well. Mind turning the aura volume down?"
A little embarrassed, Orison pulled the supernatural flair back in. Wendy gave a sigh of relief before escorting her friend into the restroom. About five minutes from the showing, they came back out. An expert makeup job managed to cover up most of what must have been a fairly emotional moment for Jen.
Jen looked at the young mage soulfully. "I'm so sorry, 'Orson'. I don't know what came over me... When Mr. Ashland approached me, I was afraid to say no because he could give me and my dad a lot of trouble."
Wendy stopped Jen before the bartender went back into an emotional breakdown. "You did what you thought you had to. I'm not going to hold that against you and I don't think that Mr. Cantrip is the kind of guy to hold a grudge about that."
Orison shook his head and said, "I AM holding a grudge about the pie, though. Do you know how hard it is to find good pecan pie this far north of the Mason-Dixon line? I'm starting to wonder if kitchens built in a land of oppressive racism is a successful part of the recipe for it or something."
Attempting to pick up her spirits, Jen shot a 'fake it til you make it' smile and said, "Well, I'll just have to prove you wrong there. That is, if you don't mind pralines. I know this-"
Wendy rolled her eyes and said, "We didn't come on a baked goods review tour. Come on, if we don't start elbowing our way up we're going to get eye strain during the reveal."
Jen said, "Look at that crowd. I'm sorry, Wednesday. I don't see how we're going to get through that."
With a quick wink to the young mage and a hand squeeze for Jen, Wendy said, "Just keep a hold of my hand, Jen... Does a lady need to ask for a gentleman to lend an arm, Mr. Cantrip?"
Smiling, the young mage took the queue and offered his arm for Wendy to rest a hand on. Although it would look like Orison was leading them through, Wendy was the one directing the flow of movement as they slid from side to side. With much less effort than he expected and no need for a supernatural push of any kind, they were standing right next to the velvet rope. Only twenty feet away from the draped case, the young woman who had wavered his resolve for bachelorhood a little, gave him a mysterious smile.
The droning of the curator that had been going on before the trio had even reached their current spot, was background noise to the young mage who was burning Wendy's side profile into his memory. Her eyes were all for the case, however. Her preoccupation didn't matter to him and he was fairly certain that she was aware of his slightly rude staring, not minding in the least. Jen, who was a little more versatile in her attention, gave a helpless but amused smile over their behavior before focusing on the case herself.
As the curator reached to the end of his prepared speech, his voice slowly raised so that the people in the private balcony booths could clearly hear. "Without further ado, in house for a limited time from our friends at the Britannia Museum, we unveil for your viewing pleasure, the Book of the Dead."
As the drapery raised with dramatic slowness, annoyed, Wendy muttered, " 'The Exposition of the Ways of the Dead' not catchy enough for you, clown?"
Finally laid bare to scrutiny, Orison took in the sight of of smooth, stitched leather. Its patina encrusted metal clasps framing a wailing face immortalized by the tanning process that went into its making. Dim, nearly forgotten memories inherited from Al's soul dredged up to the forefront and mixed with the young mage's own trauma.
He felt the blood drain from his face. Cold sweat surfaced on his brow as his heart beat at an ever increasing tempo. Devoid of any intuitive sense of danger, his soul tried unsuccessfully to rid itself of a building dread. Vertigo assaulted his senses as he shivered, feeling like all the warmth and stability of all he knew had been sucked out of the room into the gaping maw on the book's cover.
Feeling Orison shivering, Wendy looked at Orison and said in a concerned voice, "I don't know what YOU know of the book but it can't hurt you. It wouldn't want to even if it could. It isn't much different than a sword or club in most ways, only dangerous in the hands of one desiring to do harm."
On the other side, Wendy squeezed Jen's hand reassuringly. Between Orison and her bartender friend who was disturbed for more mundane reasons, the young woman looked like she wanted to laugh but was afraid of hurting their feelings. That look faded into a more serious one when three men came to join the curator.
As the curator handed thin, white cotton gloves to the three men, he raised a hand to bring the chatter in the room back down. "As a part of the charity event, the three highest donors will be given an opportunity to hold the book... In order of generosity, Mrs. Gorgonos' proxy, young sculptor prodigy Nicolas Berchet will go first. After him, it will be a man who needs no introductions in New Yorkshire circles, Mr. Rothschild. Our third and final is also a proxy. Mr. Harlequin Ashland will be standing in for an anonymous patron who wishes to be known simply as 'M'."
Even as the Curator spoke, a potent magic circle sprang to life under the museum. It had a weight of age and potency that was only matched in Orison's mind to the Rose Cliff circle he remembered from the illusion. Not the least bit put at ease, the young mage at least recognized that the people behind the scenes weren't completely brain dead.
Wendy leaned in and whispered, "Some climbers who stumbled across this world might be encouraging a quicker collapse to benefit from it. The local powers that be may have set this up as a trap to catch them out. If so, I didn't give them enough credit. That book is perfect for such a task."
Orison's response was, "Why are we still here?"
Wendy replied cryptically, "For what's coming, it's the safest place in the world."
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He walked up to the counter and paid for the meal. With one challenging look back at the two ladies, he walked out to his car. Starting it up, he slowly began pulling out. Seconds later, the two women were getting in the car while the two men, who'd been stunned by the women moving so quickly, were trying to play catch up. They got a face full of dust and a couple pieces of gravel.
For her part, Wendy looked amused but Jen was visibly angry. "Why did you do that? Is a simple attempt at courteously telling two men that you were with us so hard?"
Orison smirked and said, "Do I look 'simple' to you? I won't pick a fight with you I can't win but how hard is it to keep them from getting rid of my pie? Defendeth my pie and I shall defeneth thine honor!"
Wendy snorted from trying to hold back a laugh as Jen's face relaxed some. "It's still a strike against you. We didn't start it either so don't try to accuse us of the jealousy play deal breaker."
Orison smiled and didn't say a word. Once they got to the hotel they'd be staying at, he opened the door for Wendy and helped her carry her luggage.
Making decent time to the ladies' room, Wendy turned to Orison and said, "I don't mind you using me as a foil for Jen's attention but I'm kind of curious, am I not that appealing of a possibility?"
The young mage said, "In truth, more so, but this trip is business for you. We're just cover... I don't know and have no desire to guess why you feel like you need one to see a book in a museum but to return the favor of being my foil, I'll be your cover. No questions asked."
Wendy's smile brightened a few watts as she said, "Mr. Cantrip, I do believe I may not be so interested in just being a foil."
A feather light kiss landed on his cheek and she was in her room with the door closed before he could formulate any coherent response. A mean feat considering his improved mental and physical responses.
Jen came walking up awkwardly with three suitcases in hand and said, "Don't think that ignoring me and kissing up to Wendy means I'll- You won't even hear me out!? That's two strikes, you hear me!"
Orison continued to treat her like air as he walked to his room, using as little effort as he could to avoid whatever small piece of trash she had lobbed at him. Playing courtship games with Jen was just for fun anyway. He never thought she'd take him seriously being that she thought he was sixteen and her being twenty-one but it was interesting to try. Preoccupied with the mystery around Wendy, he really couldn't be bothered to care much.
Sighing and looking put out, Wendy said, "Jen's gone off the deep end and if I don't go with her, the guy she roped into taking us to the museum might do, who knows what."
Showing every ounce of the disappointment he felt, Orison said, "I'll be right behind you."
Weakly smiling, she said, "Sorry about this... You look great, by the way."
"On the contrary, I feel like your efforts have completely eclipsed me. How am I supposed to be your cover like this?" Orison said playfully.
Wendy quick timed back to wherever Jen was waiting with one last look back.
Orison muttered, "Jen's as transparent as flute crystal but if Wendy's playing me too, I'm in trouble because I've completely taken the bait."
He strolled out to his car to see a sight that completely caught him off guard. His tires were slashed and his windshield had a baseball bat's length dent in it. Checking around the area for people who may have been waiting for him or a random passersby, he quickly got to work laying a circle and performing a round of mends. Five minutes and a lot of anger later, Orison started his car and made his way to the museum. Three more blocks down, the car died, wouldn't restart and he wasn't mechanically inclined enough to figure out what the problem was.
With some help from a person at a nearby shop, the young mage got a tow truck to a nearby garage and a cab to the museum after getting a call through to Jacob to pick up the car after the mechanic was done. There was a viciousness to it all that screamed vendetta and the only culprits he could think of would be the two guys at the cafe but he had no idea how they would have found him. Nothing added up right.
The best thing he could think of was to go and talk with Jen and Wendy. They probably wouldn't know anything either but perhaps the guy Jen was with might hold a clue or the answer itself. It ended up being a charity night and there were a lot more high profile people than usual, especially for an exhibit that had already been on display once the previous weekend.
Orison paid the exorbitant price of ten dollars for admission and began looking around. Near a buffet set up in a giant ballroom-like foyer, he saw Jen speaking with a person whose visage he'd seen plenty of times enough to hate it viscerally on sight. With the focus of everyone around the table on the man, there were plenty of 'Mr. Ashland's being thrown around but the young mage knew him as Smiley.
"A weak aura of corruption is in his very blood. He's either swapped some potency out with a devil or he's the offspring of one with a mortal. That would explain so much if it was true," Orison muttered as he approached.
The young mage walked up to Jen and said without preamble, "Where's Wendy?"
Jen was about to answer when a wisp of corrupt essence caressed around her aura, turning her frowning face into a sneer.
Smiley said to his surrounding admirers, "Children who plays adult games should scurry home. Really, it's embarrassing when youths delude themselves and-"
Orison's control slipped a little. To keep from lashing out in a way that would only give the snake charmer more ammo to work with, he channeled the rage into his bloodlines melded into the white hole ring. He'd never actively tried to access the unique qualities of his supernatural bloodlines since they had been contained but being stimulated in such a way, they did produce results.
Eyes snapped to him, a mix of mild awe with slow building fascination. In particularly sensitive individuals, he could smell a touch of fear and excitement.
Taking advantage of the attention, Orison said with false cold ambivalence, "A flesh peddling predator has no moral ground to judge what anyone should do, much less children... Jen, where is Wendy? This man is a monster and your friend is in danger."
While he was distracted trying to get Jen to talk, Smiley was doing his silver tongued best to rally outrage against Orison. When a security guard put a hand on the young mage's shoulder, he froze the man in place with a reptilian stare and turned to Smiley.
"I'm spiteful enough to rip your mask off right here, pimp. There might be consequences but I'll survive them. Will you?" He emphasized the point by letting some Caribbean blue spirit shine through.
Uncertainty wavered on Smiley's face for a moment until it disappeared like it had never been, replaced by utter confidence.
Seeing that the man was about to cause a scene of his own, Orison said, "Your curse twister behind the scenes and your boss will be dancing around fire ringed rose crosses if they step out to save you from what I'll do if you utter one... more... syllable."
The people surrounding them were confused but the momentum of will shifted to the young mage's side and sway over the people followed. The next moment, Orison was struck by a curse with enough lethality to kill five men instantly. The comet trail of inert essence behind it was enough to drain the life out of someone in its own right. The young mage drew it into his space and pulled the gray patch emerging on his skin to a place it couldn't be seen.
Smiley's trademark smirk was blooming at the sight but Orison's arrogant head tilt and unfaltering gaze made the man turn pale. "I've already asked twice. Either I get an answer or I follow through."
The devil partially possessing Jen, released its hold enough for the woman to say, "The last I saw, she was heading out back with two of Mr. Ashland's friends but she didn't look like she was being forced to do anything she didn't want to. You're overreacting. Are you jealous-"
Orison saw that the devil was slowly pushing in on Jen, twisting her thoughts and heightening negative emotions. As soon as he saw signs of what was happening, he grabbed an abandoned champagne flute off the table, dumped some silver flakes and sea salt into it from his space and tossed the contents in her face. Invisible to everyone else, the possessor devil, which was only tenuously connected to Jen, writhed and let out a squeal only the supernaturally sensitive would notice.
"Cool your head. I'm worried about Wendy because of him. Feel free to do whatever you want." Orison said as he looked around, hoping for someone to have noticed the devil screech. A few did but they didn't seem to be interested in interfering.
A woman's voice behind him said, "It's sweet that you're worried but I'm fine."
Smiley, who was breaking out in a cold sweat, tried to immediately take control of the narrative but Wendy shut him down with, "The same can't be said for this vile man's thugs... I hope you have medical coverage for your employees, Mr. Ashland."
In a last ditch, Smiley said, "An amusing stage play. Do you often grift in a group or prefer to scam people individually with this contrived nonsense?"
Sidling up beside Jen, Wendy pulled out a silver hair pin and severed the dark cord connecting the possessing devil to her friend.
Looking at Orison, Wendy said, "Your wake up call to my friend was a little too much. She's practically faint from embarrassment."
Orison smiled slightly with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes , "Of course. Twas overwrought with worry, milady. Making amends post hast is my utmost duty."
Taking the other side of the dull eyed Jen, Orison helped Wendy escort her away. Their apparent lack of concern and acknowledgment of Smiley's previous and continued vitriol was its own form of powerful rebuke.
As they made their way to the woman's restroom, Wendy said, "I'm sure you have questions. I know I do."
"Tons but my focus is on trying to make a good impression. Is it working?" The young mage said, projecting an overly dramatic hopeful look.
Wendy giggled but it came across as demure rather than childish. "Maybe a little too well. Mind turning the aura volume down?"
A little embarrassed, Orison pulled the supernatural flair back in. Wendy gave a sigh of relief before escorting her friend into the restroom. About five minutes from the showing, they came back out. An expert makeup job managed to cover up most of what must have been a fairly emotional moment for Jen.
Jen looked at the young mage soulfully. "I'm so sorry, 'Orson'. I don't know what came over me... When Mr. Ashland approached me, I was afraid to say no because he could give me and my dad a lot of trouble."
Wendy stopped Jen before the bartender went back into an emotional breakdown. "You did what you thought you had to. I'm not going to hold that against you and I don't think that Mr. Cantrip is the kind of guy to hold a grudge about that."
Orison shook his head and said, "I AM holding a grudge about the pie, though. Do you know how hard it is to find good pecan pie this far north of the Mason-Dixon line? I'm starting to wonder if kitchens built in a land of oppressive racism is a successful part of the recipe for it or something."
Attempting to pick up her spirits, Jen shot a 'fake it til you make it' smile and said, "Well, I'll just have to prove you wrong there. That is, if you don't mind pralines. I know this-"
Wendy rolled her eyes and said, "We didn't come on a baked goods review tour. Come on, if we don't start elbowing our way up we're going to get eye strain during the reveal."
Jen said, "Look at that crowd. I'm sorry, Wednesday. I don't see how we're going to get through that."
With a quick wink to the young mage and a hand squeeze for Jen, Wendy said, "Just keep a hold of my hand, Jen... Does a lady need to ask for a gentleman to lend an arm, Mr. Cantrip?"
Smiling, the young mage took the queue and offered his arm for Wendy to rest a hand on. Although it would look like Orison was leading them through, Wendy was the one directing the flow of movement as they slid from side to side. With much less effort than he expected and no need for a supernatural push of any kind, they were standing right next to the velvet rope. Only twenty feet away from the draped case, the young woman who had wavered his resolve for bachelorhood a little, gave him a mysterious smile.
The droning of the curator that had been going on before the trio had even reached their current spot, was background noise to the young mage who was burning Wendy's side profile into his memory. Her eyes were all for the case, however. Her preoccupation didn't matter to him and he was fairly certain that she was aware of his slightly rude staring, not minding in the least. Jen, who was a little more versatile in her attention, gave a helpless but amused smile over their behavior before focusing on the case herself.
As the curator reached to the end of his prepared speech, his voice slowly raised so that the people in the private balcony booths could clearly hear. "Without further ado, in house for a limited time from our friends at the Britannia Museum, we unveil for your viewing pleasure, the Book of the Dead."
As the drapery raised with dramatic slowness, annoyed, Wendy muttered, " 'The Exposition of the Ways of the Dead' not catchy enough for you, clown?"
Finally laid bare to scrutiny, Orison took in the sight of of smooth, stitched leather. Its patina encrusted metal clasps framing a wailing face immortalized by the tanning process that went into its making. Dim, nearly forgotten memories inherited from Al's soul dredged up to the forefront and mixed with the young mage's own trauma.
He felt the blood drain from his face. Cold sweat surfaced on his brow as his heart beat at an ever increasing tempo. Devoid of any intuitive sense of danger, his soul tried unsuccessfully to rid itself of a building dread. Vertigo assaulted his senses as he shivered, feeling like all the warmth and stability of all he knew had been sucked out of the room into the gaping maw on the book's cover.
Feeling Orison shivering, Wendy looked at Orison and said in a concerned voice, "I don't know what YOU know of the book but it can't hurt you. It wouldn't want to even if it could. It isn't much different than a sword or club in most ways, only dangerous in the hands of one desiring to do harm."
On the other side, Wendy squeezed Jen's hand reassuringly. Between Orison and her bartender friend who was disturbed for more mundane reasons, the young woman looked like she wanted to laugh but was afraid of hurting their feelings. That look faded into a more serious one when three men came to join the curator.
As the curator handed thin, white cotton gloves to the three men, he raised a hand to bring the chatter in the room back down. "As a part of the charity event, the three highest donors will be given an opportunity to hold the book... In order of generosity, Mrs. Gorgonos' proxy, young sculptor prodigy Nicolas Berchet will go first. After him, it will be a man who needs no introductions in New Yorkshire circles, Mr. Rothschild. Our third and final is also a proxy. Mr. Harlequin Ashland will be standing in for an anonymous patron who wishes to be known simply as 'M'."
Even as the Curator spoke, a potent magic circle sprang to life under the museum. It had a weight of age and potency that was only matched in Orison's mind to the Rose Cliff circle he remembered from the illusion. Not the least bit put at ease, the young mage at least recognized that the people behind the scenes weren't completely brain dead.
Wendy leaned in and whispered, "Some climbers who stumbled across this world might be encouraging a quicker collapse to benefit from it. The local powers that be may have set this up as a trap to catch them out. If so, I didn't give them enough credit. That book is perfect for such a task."
Orison's response was, "Why are we still here?"
Wendy replied cryptically, "For what's coming, it's the safest place in the world."
He walked up to the counter and paid for the meal. With one challenging look back at the two ladies, he walked out to his car. Starting it up, he slowly began pulling out. Seconds later, the two women were getting in the car while the two men, who'd been stunned by the women moving so quickly, were trying to play catch up. They got a face full of dust and a couple pieces of gravel.For her part, Wendy looked amused but Jen was visibly angry. "Why did you do that? Is a simple attempt at courteously telling two men that you were with us so hard?"Orison smirked and said, "Do I look 'simple' to you? I won't pick a fight with you I can't win but how hard is it to keep them from getting rid of my pie? Defendeth my pie and I shall defeneth thine honor!"Wendy snorted from trying to hold back a laugh as Jen's face relaxed some. "It's still a strike against you. We didn't start it either so don't try to accuse us of the jealousy play deal breaker."Orison smiled and didn't say a word. Once they got to the hotel they'd be staying at, he opened the door for Wendy and helped her carry her luggage.Making decent time to the ladies' room, Wendy turned to Orison and said, "I don't mind you using me as a foil for Jen's attention but I'm kind of curious, am I not that appealing of a possibility?"The young mage said, "In truth, more so, but this trip is business for you. We're just cover... I don't know and have no desire to guess why you feel like you need one to see a book in a museum but to return the favor of being my foil, I'll be your cover. No questions asked."Wendy's smile brightened a few watts as she said, "Mr. Cantrip, I do believe I may not be so interested in just being a foil."A feather light kiss landed on his cheek and she was in her room with the door closed before he could formulate any coherent response. A mean feat considering his improved mental and physical responses.Jen came walking up awkwardly with three suitcases in hand and said, "Don't think that ignoring me and kissing up to Wendy means I'll- You won't even hear me out!? That's two strikes, you hear me!"Orison continued to treat her like air as he walked to his room, using as little effort as he could to avoid whatever small piece of trash she had lobbed at him. Playing courtship games with Jen was just for fun anyway. He never thought she'd take him seriously being that she thought he was sixteen and her being twenty-one but it was interesting to try. Preoccupied with the mystery around Wendy, he really couldn't be bothered to care much.Sighing and looking put out, Wendy said, "Jen's gone off the deep end and if I don't go with her, the guy she roped into taking us to the museum might do, who knows what."Showing every ounce of the disappointment he felt, Orison said, "I'll be right behind you."Weakly smiling, she said, "Sorry about this... You look great, by the way.""On the contrary, I feel like your efforts have completely eclipsed me. How am I supposed to be your cover like this?" Orison said playfully.Wendy quick timed back to wherever Jen was waiting with one last look back.Orison muttered, "Jen's as transparent as flute crystal but if Wendy's playing me too, I'm in trouble because I've completely taken the bait."He strolled out to his car to see a sight that completely caught him off guard. His tires were slashed and his windshield had a baseball bat's length dent in it. Checking around the area for people who may have been waiting for him or a random passersby, he quickly got to work laying a circle and performing a round of mends. Five minutes and a lot of anger later, Orison started his car and made his way to the museum. Three more blocks down, the car died, wouldn't restart and he wasn't mechanically inclined enough to figure out what the problem was.With some help from a person at a nearby shop, the young mage got a tow truck to a nearby garage and a cab to the museum after getting a call through to Jacob to pick up the car after the mechanic was done. There was a viciousness to it all that screamed vendetta and the only culprits he could think of would be the two guys at the cafe but he had no idea how they would have found him. Nothing added up right.The best thing he could think of was to go and talk with Jen and Wendy. They probably wouldn't know anything either but perhaps the guy Jen was with might hold a clue or the answer itself. It ended up being a charity night and there were a lot more high profile people than usual, especially for an exhibit that had already been on display once the previous weekend.Orison paid the exorbitant price of ten dollars for admission and began looking around. Near a buffet set up in a giant ballroom-like foyer, he saw Jen speaking with a person whose visage he'd seen plenty of times enough to hate it viscerally on sight. With the focus of everyone around the table on the man, there were plenty of 'Mr. Ashland's being thrown around but the young mage knew him as Smiley."A weak aura of corruption is in his very blood. He's either swapped some potency out with a devil or he's the offspring of one with a mortal. That would explain so much if it was true," Orison muttered as he approached.The young mage walked up to Jen and said without preamble, "Where's Wendy?"Jen was about to answer when a wisp of corrupt essence caressed around her aura, turning her frowning face into a sneer.Smiley said to his surrounding admirers, "Children who plays adult games should scurry home. Really, it's embarrassing when youths delude themselves and-"Orison's control slipped a little. To keep from lashing out in a way that would only give the snake charmer more ammo to work with, he channeled the rage into his bloodlines melded into the white hole ring. He'd never actively tried to access the unique qualities of his supernatural bloodlines since they had been contained but being stimulated in such a way, they did produce results.Eyes snapped to him, a mix of mild awe with slow building fascination. In particularly sensitive individuals, he could smell a touch of fear and excitement.Taking advantage of the attention, Orison said with false cold ambivalence, "A flesh peddling predator has no moral ground to judge what anyone should do, much less children... Jen, where is Wendy? This man is a monster and your friend is in danger."While he was distracted trying to get Jen to talk, Smiley was doing his silver tongued best to rally outrage against Orison. When a security guard put a hand on the young mage's shoulder, he froze the man in place with a reptilian stare and turned to Smiley."I'm spiteful enough to rip your mask off right here, pimp. There might be consequences but I'll survive them. Will you?" He emphasized the point by letting some Caribbean blue spirit shine through.Uncertainty wavered on Smiley's face for a moment until it disappeared like it had never been, replaced by utter confidence.Seeing that the man was about to cause a scene of his own, Orison said, "Your curse twister behind the scenes and your boss will be dancing around fire ringed rose crosses if they step out to save you from what I'll do if you utter one... more... syllable."The people surrounding them were confused but the momentum of will shifted to the young mage's side and sway over the people followed. The next moment, Orison was struck by a curse with enough lethality to kill five men instantly. The comet trail of inert essence behind it was enough to drain the life out of someone in its own right. The young mage drew it into his space and pulled the gray patch emerging on his skin to a place it couldn't be seen.Smiley's trademark smirk was blooming at the sight but Orison's arrogant head tilt and unfaltering gaze made the man turn pale. "I've already asked twice. Either I get an answer or I follow through."The devil partially possessing Jen, released its hold enough for the woman to say, "The last I saw, she was heading out back with two of Mr. Ashland's friends but she didn't look like she was being forced to do anything she didn't want to. You're overreacting. Are you jealous-"Orison saw that the devil was slowly pushing in on Jen, twisting her thoughts and heightening negative emotions. As soon as he saw signs of what was happening, he grabbed an abandoned champagne flute off the table, dumped some silver flakes and sea salt into it from his space and tossed the contents in her face. Invisible to everyone else, the possessor devil, which was only tenuously connected to Jen, writhed and let out a squeal only the supernaturally sensitive would notice."Cool your head. I'm worried about Wendy because of him. Feel free to do whatever you want." Orison said as he looked around, hoping for someone to have noticed the devil screech. A few did but they didn't seem to be interested in interfering.A woman's voice behind him said, "It's sweet that you're worried but I'm fine."Smiley, who was breaking out in a cold sweat, tried to immediately take control of the narrative but Wendy shut him down with, "The same can't be said for this vile man's thugs... I hope you have medical coverage for your employees, Mr. Ashland."In a last ditch, Smiley said, "An amusing stage play. Do you often grift in a group or prefer to scam people individually with this contrived nonsense?"Sidling up beside Jen, Wendy pulled out a silver hair pin and severed the dark cord connecting the possessing devil to her friend.Looking at Orison, Wendy said, "Your wake up call to my friend was a little too much. She's practically faint from embarrassment."Orison smiled slightly with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes , "Of course. Twas overwrought with worry, milady. Making amends post hast is my utmost duty."Taking the other side of the dull eyed Jen, Orison helped Wendy escort her away. Their apparent lack of concern and acknowledgment of Smiley's previous and continued vitriol was its own form of powerful rebuke.As they made their way to the woman's restroom, Wendy said, "I'm sure you have questions. I know I do.""Tons but my focus is on trying to make a good impression. Is it working?" The young mage said, projecting an overly dramatic hopeful look.Wendy giggled but it came across as demure rather than childish. "Maybe a little too well. Mind turning the aura volume down?"A little embarrassed, Orison pulled the supernatural flair back in. Wendy gave a sigh of relief before escorting her friend into the restroom. About five minutes from the showing, they came back out. An expert makeup job managed to cover up most of what must have been a fairly emotional moment for Jen.Jen looked at the young mage soulfully. "I'm so sorry, 'Orson'. I don't know what came over me... When Mr. Ashland approached me, I was afraid to say no because he could give me and my dad a lot of trouble."Wendy stopped Jen before the bartender went back into an emotional breakdown. "You did what you thought you had to. I'm not going to hold that against you and I don't think that Mr. Cantrip is the kind of guy to hold a grudge about that."Orison shook his head and said, "I AM holding a grudge about the pie, though. Do you know how hard it is to find good pecan pie this far north of the Mason-Dixon line? I'm starting to wonder if kitchens built in a land of oppressive racism is a successful part of the recipe for it or something."Attempting to pick up her spirits, Jen shot a 'fake it til you make it' smile and said, "Well, I'll just have to prove you wrong there. That is, if you don't mind pralines. I know this-"Wendy rolled her eyes and said, "We didn't come on a baked goods review tour. Come on, if we don't start elbowing our way up we're going to get eye strain during the reveal."Jen said, "Look at that crowd. I'm sorry, Wednesday. I don't see how we're going to get through that."With a quick wink to the young mage and a hand squeeze for Jen, Wendy said, "Just keep a hold of my hand, Jen... Does a lady need to ask for a gentleman to lend an arm, Mr. Cantrip?"Smiling, the young mage took the queue and offered his arm for Wendy to rest a hand on. Although it would look like Orison was leading them through, Wendy was the one directing the flow of movement as they slid from side to side. With much less effort than he expected and no need for a supernatural push of any kind, they were standing right next to the velvet rope. Only twenty feet away from the draped case, the young woman who had wavered his resolve for bachelorhood a little, gave him a mysterious smile.The droning of the curator that had been going on before the trio had even reached their current spot, was background noise to the young mage who was burning Wendy's side profile into his memory. Her eyes were all for the case, however. Her preoccupation didn't matter to him and he was fairly certain that she was aware of his slightly rude staring, not minding in the least. Jen, who was a little more versatile in her attention, gave a helpless but amused smile over their behavior before focusing on the case herself.As the curator reached to the end of his prepared speech, his voice slowly raised so that the people in the private balcony booths could clearly hear. "Without further ado, in house for a limited time from our friends at the Britannia Museum, we unveil for your viewing pleasure, the Book of the Dead."As the drapery raised with dramatic slowness, annoyed, Wendy muttered, " 'The Exposition of the Ways of the Dead' not catchy enough for you, clown?"Finally laid bare to scrutiny, Orison took in the sight of of smooth, stitched leather. Its patina encrusted metal clasps framing a wailing face immortalized by the tanning process that went into its making. Dim, nearly forgotten memories inherited from Al's soul dredged up to the forefront and mixed with the young mage's own trauma.He felt the blood drain from his face. Cold sweat surfaced on his brow as his heart beat at an ever increasing tempo. Devoid of any intuitive sense of danger, his soul tried unsuccessfully to rid itself of a building dread. Vertigo assaulted his senses as he shivered, feeling like all the warmth and stability of all he knew had been sucked out of the room into the gaping maw on the book's cover.Feeling Orison shivering, Wendy looked at Orison and said in a concerned voice, "I don't know what YOU know of the book but it can't hurt you. It wouldn't want to even if it could. It isn't much different than a sword or club in most ways, only dangerous in the hands of one desiring to do harm."On the other side, Wendy squeezed Jen's hand reassuringly. Between Orison and her bartender friend who was disturbed for more mundane reasons, the young woman looked like she wanted to laugh but was afraid of hurting their feelings. That look faded into a more serious one when three men came to join the curator.As the curator handed thin, white cotton gloves to the three men, he raised a hand to bring the chatter in the room back down. "As a part of the charity event, the three highest donors will be given an opportunity to hold the book... In order of generosity, Mrs. Gorgonos' proxy, young sculptor prodigy Nicolas Berchet will go first. After him, it will be a man who needs no introductions in New Yorkshire circles, Mr. Rothschild. Our third and final is also a proxy. Mr. Harlequin Ashland will be standing in for an anonymous patron who wishes to be known simply as 'M'."Even as the Curator spoke, a potent magic circle sprang to life under the museum. It had a weight of age and potency that was only matched in Orison's mind to the Rose Cliff circle he remembered from the illusion. Not the least bit put at ease, the young mage at least recognized that the people behind the scenes weren't completely brain dead.Wendy leaned in and whispered, "Some climbers who stumbled across this world might be encouraging a quicker collapse to benefit from it. The local powers that be may have set this up as a trap to catch them out. If so, I didn't give them enough credit. That book is perfect for such a task."Orison's response was, "Why are we still here?"Wendy replied cryptically, "For what's coming, it's the safest place in the world."
