The Thaumaturge Ch 06

Lauren

. She might have more answers.

I waited, half a block down from the entrance to Viv's building, for Viv to leave. There was no way I was going to risk awkwardly running into her on my way to talk to Lauren. It only took about ten minutes, but it was starting to get late, now, the light fading as I lingered outside. I watched her hurry into the twilight, back towards campus, it looked like.

I wondered where she was going, who that phone call had been with. Clint, maybe? It could've been him on the other end; it had seemed like she'd referenced the conversation with him.

Part of me wanted to follow her. But she and Diana had made it clear that I needed to be careful, and there was still so much I didn't know.

And I didn't want to piss Viv off.

Beyond that, I realized, I was still grappling with an underlying, uncomfortable truth that was hitting me a bit harder than I had expected.

I couldn't do magic?

At all?

It wasn't fair.

I rubbed my shoulder, which was still twinging from that arm-wrestling match with Diana.

With Viv gone, I pulled out my phone, looking at the last text from Lauren. The one she'd somehow sent me without me ever putting my number in her phone.

Lauren: Hey -- I don't know if you were embarrassed, or just had a bad time or what...but I had fun and I'd really like to see you again. Call me or text.

It would be fair to say I'd been avoiding her. Initially, it had been because I was hurt. The texts I'd seen from her to Vivian had made me feel like what I had perceived as great chemistry and a fun first date was just pretense for Lauren to get a

thaumaturge

home with her.

Now...well, I had to admit to myself that it wasn't

only

because I'd been hurt. There just hadn't been time. First Viv, then Diana, then Diana again, then Viv again...

I took my time composing the reply, making sure it didn't give anything away unduly, gave me the best footing for a conversation.

Matt: I didn't have a bad time, but...Lauren, I know a lot more now, than I did when we went on our date. I wish you had just told me I was a thaumaturge. Can we meet up to talk? I'm actually right around the corner from your place.

The little floating dots indicating that she was typing appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again, disappeared again...I had clearly thrown her for a bit of a loop. I smiled with grim satisfaction.

Well, at least I wasn't the only one spinning my wheels.

Finally, her response appeared.

Lauren: Oh god. Ok. Yes. We should talk. I'm home, want to come over now?

Matt: Sure. Be there in a few.

Lauren: OK, just text me when you're outside.

I waited another five minutes before I texted her that I was outside, so I didn't seem like a total fucking creeper.

---

Lauren opened the door. She was just as beautiful as I remembered -- those perfect model features, green eyes. Her dark hair was back in a messy ponytail. She was wearing leggings and a light hoodie that showed off a petite, fit body.

Her full lips were currently twisted into an apologetic wince. "Come on in, Matt. I have a lot to say, but we can talk more in my apartment."

I nodded, and followed her inside. We rode the elevator together in silence. I was looking down at her, mulling over what to ask her, how this should go.

She, for her part, wasn't making eye contact. She was biting her lip and looked anxious.

I felt a little bad. "Lauren, I'm not that--"

"Not here," she said, in a small voice.

I lapsed into silence, which persisted through the rest of the elevator ride and the walk down the hallway to her apartment door, before she opened it and ushered me inside.

I hadn't gotten to see much of her apartment the last time I was in it, before...well, she had started making out with me, she had gone down on me, I had finished, I had seen those text messages, gotten weirded out, and left. So the details of the place had escaped me.

I gave it more scrutiny, this time. The apartment was nice, but it had enough touches, now that I was looking for them, to be both nice and a bit

odd

. Her living room was dominated by more bookshelves than was normal for a college student's apartment, and books that were older than normal for

anybody's

apartment. Decor that was not only more mature than your average college students, but with some details that bordered on the weird, esoteric. The side table by the entrance had a variety of little tchotchkes arranged along it -- a little stone dog, barking. A wooden cross -- not a Christian cross, more of a plus-sign cross. A pearl necklace, piled up in a little silvery bowl. A vial of some kind of clear liquid, with tiny red flecks floating in it?

The apartment was small: a living room, kitchen, doors to her bedroom and bathroom. A sliding glass door opened onto a small balcony with an uninspiring view of the street outside and a similar apartment building across the way. All very normal.

But it definitely had some

occult

undertones, now that I was looking for them.

There were more normal things too -- a haphazard pile of mail that probably needed to get looked through, a collection of champagne corks in a basket, that kind of thing. But now that I was looking for them, her apartment gave me a sense that something was strange about her.

Probably because she was a witch.

As if on cue, Luna, her little black cat, came running up to us, mewing as Lauren closed the door behind us.

And then Lauren started talking, words spilling out of her rapid-fire, earnest, anxious, one after another. Her voice was unsteady -- like she might cry.

"Look, I'm really sorry, Matt. I should've told you. In my defense, I'm...well, pretty new at this. And telling you isn't against the rules, exactly, but it's kind of a big choice, and people like to...well, they like to wait a bit to do that, so that's what I did, but it didn't feel right, I should've--"

I held up my hands. "Jeez. Slow down, please, Lauren. Can we like, sit down and talk about this?"

She nodded, mutely, and gestured at a couch. I sat; she sat next to me, a little ways away.

I sighed. "Look, I've learned a lot in the two days since our date. After we...well, while you were in the bathroom, I saw your texts with Viv. About me being a thaumaturge."

Horrified comprehension flashed onto her face, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

I just continued. "I wish you had just told me. I've been feeling like you went on a date with me with some ulterior motive. And, I mean...you did, right?" I could hear the bitterness creep into my voice.

She was apologetic. "I-I did, yeah. But...I

would've

told you. Was going to. Honest. There's just a...right way and time to do it."

I wasn't sure I believed her, and I'm sure the skepticism showed on my face. She paused for a moment, reading my expression, and then her brow furrowed in confusion. "Nobody's explained the Cost of Knowledge to you?"

I could hear the capital C and K in the way she said the words, and now it was my turn to pause. "No...?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Who'd you get the facts from? Viv, I assume, right?"

I hesitated, but then nodded, deciding not to mention Diana.

For now, at least.

"Of course it was Viv." Lauren was both jealous and exasperated. "I swear to

fucking god

. I'm supposed to be learning from her, but she never does

anything

by the book, how am I supposed to..." she trailed off, noting the confusion on my face.

She huffed out a breath. "This is all fucked up. You're supposed to have one person -- the person who tells you what you are -- who is responsible for making sure you've got all the relevant facts at your disposal. The way you've learned bits and pieces...you don't have the full story."

I was frustrated, now. "Yeah, I'm seeing that. It feels like a big problem. Can't you just fill me in?"

She bit her lip. "I don't even know what you know and what you don't know, to--"

"Start with the Cost of Knowledge," I encouraged.

She nodded. "Okay. So, thaumaturges who

don't

know what they are, are considered a...community resource. The idea is that everybody benefits from having magic be more readily available. Anyone is allowed to benefit from their power; the expectation is just that you aren't keeping them to yourself. Or hurting them."

Community resource?

I narrowed my eyes. "I don't get a say in that? You and anybody else can just...

use

me?"

"Look, I'm not saying these are good or right. I'm just telling you the convention, and the conventions is this: thaumaturges living in ignorance aren't to be harmed or

involved

in any way. Like, um, you know when you're camping how you're supposed to leave no trace? Leave the campsite better than you found it? Sort of like that."

Living in ignorance.

A

campsite

. These conventions didn't exactly feel...well, like they treated me very respectfully. I started to get annoyed.

She paused. "If you want a thaumaturge to exclusively help you -- and not others -- you need to tell them what they are. Once they know, they can make their own decisions about what they do. Can use their power for leverage, to form alliances, hurt their enemies...just like anybody else. And, well. They're fair game after that. Open season. To form alliances with...threaten...exploit...kill, so they can't help your enemies..." she trailed off with a grimace.

Even worse. Apparently I wasn't a community resource. I was

fair game

.

I blinked, processing this. "So you left me in ignorance...to...keep me safe?"

"Yes." Then she hesitated, smiled a little sadly, and shrugged. "I mean, look, I'm not trying to pretend it was completely altruistic or anything, okay? My plan was to carefully, thoughtfully, introduce you to all this. And I would have done my best to ensure you ended up an ally to me."

"Okay," I said, slowly, processing this news. "So...now what?"

"Well, I'd still like to have you as an ally, obviously." She said it earnestly. "And you're going to need some allies. Once people start realizing what you are, that you

know

what you are, you'll have a giant target on your back."

I asked a question that I realized had been bugging me. "Who's

people

? Viv, and..."

Shit

. I had been about to mention Diana. I cursed my slip up. "...Uh, that is,

Viv

gave me a similar warning, but it's always unspecified."

Lauren paused, noting the stumble, but then just nodded. "Well, at least Viv did that much. Look, magic can do a lot of things. You can live a long time. See, experience, visit,

do

just about anything you want, with enough preparation, planning, and power. The only real threat to you once you amass enough power are other willworkers, so..."

"Willworkers?" I recalled Diana using similar terminology.

She waved her hand. "Magicians. Wizards. Sorcerers. Witches. Whatever you want to call it. There are lots of different traditions, schools of thought, but at the end of the day they're all just people capable of working magic through their wills. And at the end of the day, once you're around long enough, your goal tends to be amassing more power to protect yourself from other people with magic, because they're the only actual threat to you. And thaumaturges are very useful in that regard."

She paused, then just shook her head again. "God, you've got a lot of blind spots. There's so much to cover."

I wasn't sure what to say to that, but I grounded myself in one truth of the conversation.

She wanted me on her side.

"So if I were to agree to be your ally...what would it get me?" I asked, hesitantly.

She nodded. "Good question. It depends on what it means. I'd be happy to trade magic for power; I can do a bunch of things that might be useful to you. If you want to come to a longer-term arrangement, that would be different."

I wondered what the longer-term arrangement might look like, but I imagined it might have exclusivity parameters -- maybe prevent me from making deals with other people. And it felt like I knew too little to make that kind of deal right now.

"What kind of magic could you do for me?" I asked the question, tentatively.

She shrugged. "All kinds of stuff. My specialty is making artifacts." She looked at me, expectant.

My face was blank. I didn't know what an artifact was.

She sighed. "You just know so little. Okay, look. You play any video games? Something with a fantasy theme, like Skyrim? Or maybe Dark Souls? Or the Final Fantasy games? Dungeons and Dragons?" She paused, and then slowly, as if she wasn't sure if I spoke English, she said, "Do you know what a magic item is?"

I nodded, annoyed, now.

"Okay. So I can make those. I'm pretty good at it. So how about this: give me another round of thaumaturgical energy like you gave me before, and I'll use part of it to create a magic item for you. An artifact."

Well. That did sound like a useful trade. "What kind of artifact?"

Maybe I could get to do magic after all

.

"So, look, for just a one-off trade like this, it's going to be something that gets used up quickly...let me think about what might be most useful to you..."

She mulled it over for a moment, then started ticking the options off on her fingers.

"First, I could make something that would protect you from magic that influences your perception. It'd only work a limited number of times, depending on the strength of the magic being used on you; it's not permanent immunity or anything. But that kind of magic is really dangerous."

"Or, I could make something that allows you to

know

if someone is magical without needing to actually see them doing magic. Might help you keep yourself safer."

She hesitated, considering. "...Okay, and one final option. I could make something that would be like, a ripcord in the case of emergencies. You could use it and you'd be instantly transported back here, to my apartment."

She gave me a small smile. "That's a pretty powerful one, a lot more powerful than the other two -- and I'm only offering it to you because it would keep you coming back to

me

for help if you get into trouble."

I considered these. "That's all stuff to keep myself safe. Isn't there anything more, I don't know...offensive?"

She nodded. "Sure. All kinds of stuff. But I don't think you really know enough yet to be throwing fireballs around responsibly. I'm not gonna be responsible for you torching one of your classmates because you think she might be a sorceress trying to hex you, or whatever."

She had a point.

I mulled over the options, and then picked one.

---

"So...now what?" I said. We had talked for a little bit more; she evidently needed to know a few things about me, to make me the artifact in question. She had made some notes based on our conversation in precise, neat handwriting, in a little journal that she closed.

"Well...

now

I could use some

power

, Matt." Her lips curved up into a slightly embarrassed smile.

It was impossible not to stare at her mouth. My heartrate accelerated.

And then we both turned to look at the sound of the sliding door -- the one that opened on to her little balcony -- opening.

Two women stepped inside from the balcony. I blinked, incredulous. Lauren was on the

sixth

floor. I had no idea how they could've gotten up there.

Magic

, my brain helpfully informed me.

Lauren and I both stood warily as they shut the door behind them.

I sized them up. They were both dressed in what looked like black athletic attire -- leggings and black jackets. They looked athletic, moved fluidly as they walked across the room. One was a bit older -- in her late twenties or early thirties, maybe -- a tall, lithe woman with auburn hair. The other was younger, a little shorter, but fit and muscular.

The taller one spoke, looking at Lauren. "We're here for him. Let us take him and we'll go in peace. We have no quarrel with you, witch." She had a trace of an accent -- oddly familiar.

Lauren glanced at the two of them, then at me. "What do you want with him?"

She was surprisingly composed, I thought. My mind raced and I tried to think of what to do.

"Clint wants to see him." The woman said it flatly, as if that was explanation enough.

It certainly explained the accent, but I decided that playing dumb was absolutely my best course of action. I didn't even have to play very hard. "What the fuck? Did you just

break in here

? Who's

Clint

? Lauren and I were just, uh,

studying

--"

The woman cut me off. "I'm sure he'll explain it to you, if you don't know already. Now. You can come with us the easy way, or the hard way."

I glanced at Lauren. I wasn't sure what she would do.

Just let them take me?

She stood up from the couch, smoothly. "You are in my home. Uninvited." she said the words, flatly. "Your very presence here violates the terms of our truce. And he is my guest. Under my protection."

The tall woman hesitated. It was clear she hadn't expected this. "Why would you protect him?"

Lauren shrugged. "He's helping improve one of my essays for a class. Why do

you

want him?"

"She has exceptionally bad grammar," I added. "I don't see why--"

The tall woman's eyes narrowed, and she cut me off. "This is all bullshit. There's only one reason you'd protect him and we both know it." But she glanced at me and didn't elaborate further.

"Let's just get him and go, Maya. She can't stop both of us." The younger of the two women was eying me with what felt like predatory interest.

"Does

Clint

know you're here? Don't make a mistake you'll regret." Lauren's voice was anxious, now, but it had a warning note in it.

The tension in the room was palpable. The older woman --

Maya

, I gathered -- glanced between her companion, Lauren, and me uncertainly. "Okay, Brooke, wait. Let's--"

And then things exploded into motion.

First, her companion --

Brooke

, apparently -- lunged at me, hitting me with a double-leg takedown that was strong, if not especially well-executed. But it was fast enough that she caught me totally off-guard, while I was still registering what was happening. She dumped me unceremoniously against the couch, landing on top of me.

Lauren for her part, twisted past me, headed for...

her front door

? The older woman cursed and -- again, moving quickly -- gave chase, tackling Lauren to the ground.

I had my own problems, though. The woman on top of me was trying to turn me onto my stomach, the way a cop might pin someone to the ground before cuffing their hands behind their back.

And she was

strong.

Not as strong as Diana had been, but much stronger than me. I was grateful that she seemed more interested in getting me in some kind of pinned position on the ground instead of just beating my head in -- I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of a punch from her.

But -- I realized after only a few seconds -- she didn't know what she was doing. All strength, no technique. She was trying to twist my arms, shove my shoulders to get me to roll on my back...none of it effective. She let out a frustrated growl as I got my wits about me and started working from the guard position, pushing her off-balance.

I was momentarily distracted by a very bright flare of light in my peripheral vision, which was followed by a

crackle

, and a yowl that sounded more like Maya than Lauren.

I smiled up at Brooke, grimly, and over the next second or two, executed one of my favorite reversals, slipping around behind her. It was difficult -- as I mentioned, she was strong as hell -- but she was both untutored

and

frustrated, and that was a recipe for technique to shine.