The Thaumaturge Ch 07

We both realized that it had gotten quite late, but Lauren wanted to make me that teleportation artifact before I left. I agreed. It felt even more important in the wake of a kidnapping attempt.

She took a deep breath, obviously trying to put the fight with the were-lions behind her. "Great. You can watch if you like. Give me your phone." She held out a hand, peremptorily.

"Uh...why?"

She smiled. "I mean, I can enchant a magic wand for you to wave around if you want, but it's probably easier just to put it on your phone. Unlock it, please."

"Oh...um, okay, I guess." I pulled out my phone -- I had five unanswered text messages from my roommates, but I ignored them, and unlocked it for her.

"So...this is how it'll work..." Lauren set the phone down on the kitchen counter. She pulled out the little journal she'd made some notes in, set it next to her phone. She'd asked about my height and weight, whether I was right or left-handed, that sort of thing. It was all there in very tidy, legible script.

I realized that this was the first time that I

knew

someone was about to do magic. Up to this point, when Viv and Diana had used magic, I hadn't been expecting it. I leaned forward, trying to make sure I didn't miss it.

She swiped through the apps on my home screen. "What's your favorite ride-sharing app? You've got a few here..."

"Uh...that one." I indicated one of the apps.

"Okay, cool." She opened the app, put in her address as one of the saved locations, and closed out of the app.

Then she went and got the keycard she used to enter the building and her apartment, a piece of mail -- her monthly rent statement, it looked like? -- and a glossy brochure that, after a moment, I realized was an advertisement for the apartment complex she lived in.

She pulled out a book of matches and scratched one, lighting it.

"Uh, what're...?" As I watched, she held the match up to the corner of the rent statement above my phone. It slowly caught, and began burning.

Lauren began muttering, a barely audible chant. I craned in, trying to catch the words. "

The price is paid. The price is paid. The price is paid.

"

The flame slowly consuming the rent statement was odd. For one thing, it was smokeless. For another, it was more intensely yellow than a normal flame -- not enough to be truly visually disturbing, but certainly

off

, somehow, not as orange-yellow as it should be.

She set it down on the kitchen counter, still burning, and picked up the brochure. The cover featured an attractive couple in a brightly lit, spacious-looking apartment, with the words WELCOME HOME NEIGHBOR emblazoned on it in big, friendly letters.

"

Welcome home. Welcome home. Welcome home.

" Lauren's soft, droning monotone began again as she lit the brochure on fire. This time, the flame was an odd, blueish-green. She set that down on the table.

I watched in silence.

Then she picked up the keycard.

"

Safe and sound. Safe and sound. Safe and sound.

"

As she uttered the new chant, the keycard -- instead of melting or blackening, like the laws of physics might lead you to believe --

also

burst into flame, a deep, blood red glow. After it caught, she set it down as well. The three objects formed a triangle around my phone, slowly burning up, an odd, smokeless display.

As they burned down to nothing, Lauren whispered,

"The price is paid. Welcome home. Safe and sound."

Nothing moved, but there was an unpleasant, disorienting, perspective shift for a moment -- as if my phone was suddenly far away, at the bottom of a very deep well, even though it was still sitting on the counter. The effect was gone in a split second, but it was enough to make me queasy.

"Okay, you're all set." Lauren sounded pleased.

"Didn't...you need that keycard?" There was nothing left of any of the objects she'd set on fire, not even ashes.

She shrugged. "I have an extra."

"So that...that was it?" My phone looked the same.

She gave me a look. "Oh? Was it not a satisfying performance? Not exciting enough?"

"I, uh, no--"

She waved me to silence. "Look, here's how it works. You have two options -- the quick way and the slower way. For the slower way..." She pulled up the ride-sharing app on my phone. There was a button in the lower corner of the app I had never seen before:

EMERGENCY RIDE HOME

. She tapped it.

The typical screen that came up when you booked a ride appeared. A message, saying

Sharing your driver details in 60 seconds...

began counting down.

"If you do it this way, you can cancel the teleport any time until this timer expires. I figured that might be handy in case you're about to try something incredibly stupid, which seems like something you'd do. Your other option is just your standard emergency-SOS shortcut on your phone, hitting the lock button five times or whatever. Normally that immediately dials 911. Now it teleports you to my apartment instead. No timer on that one, so I can't demonstrate it for you without burning out the magic."

I tried to imagine how this worked, in practice. "So...that spell...what, redesigned the rideshare app to add that button and reprogrammed the emergency call functionality on my phone? Lauren, that's amazing, how did..."

Now she looked gratified at my appreciation. "No, no. It doesn't...mess with things in the detailed way you're describing. It's more like I..." she hesitated, obviously trying to find the words "...changed the reality around your phone. It's already a tool you use in emergencies, and a tool you use to catch a ride home. I just...tweaked things, so that it's supposed to give you a ride home for free in emergencies. I was clear about where

home

is, and gave it the power to send you there; the magic just kind of takes care of the interface/user experience stuff."

I blinked. "And...how much power did this take? Like, as much as I just gave you, or...?"

She nodded. "Good question. This was a big one; you picked the most magically expensive of the three options, and I made it even more costly by not doing some involved, hours-long ceremony. This took everything you just gave me, and then some." And she did, I admit, look tired -- it might've been the late hour, but I thought there was a tightness around her eyes, a weariness in her movements, that hadn't been there just a few moments ago.

She flashed me a smile. "Ordinarily I'm supposed to get a cut of the thaumaturgical energy to keep for myself; this took more than I got. But I don't mind; I thought I'd do you a solid, to show you can trust me. I'm on your team, Matt, even if I didn't tell you everything at first. Really."

I nodded. That hadn't been a question in my mind -- not after she'd stood up for me with the werelions -- but this cemented the affection I was feeling for her. "Thank you. Seriously."

She gave me a hug. "Okay. You gotta go. It's super late and I have stuff to do tomorrow."

I hugged her back. "Same. Thanks, Lauren. For everything. I'll see you soon."

---

It was well after midnight by the time I left Lauren's apartment. It was a warm summer night, but -- walking the dark streets back to my apartment alone -- I admittedly felt afraid.

Someone had just tried to

kidnap

me. Presumably to tie me up in their basement and use me for my thaumaturgy.

And the kidnappers in question were evidently

lion-people.

I spent the whole way back looking over my shoulder, studying every drunk couple stumbling home from a bar, every group of friends laughing with each other, even the guy standing and smoking a cigarette out in front of the QuikMart. Any of them could be...what? A potential supernatural creature, witch, or something else, who wanted to use me?

I had always felt fairly capable, and this was a safe area; I walked around at night mostly not even thinking about the potential for mugging. But the memory of Maya smoothly launching me over her shoulder, slamming me down flat on my back, had me feeling quite vulnerable. If Lauren hadn't been there...

Maybe this was how women felt walking alone at night. I realized I was subconsciously clutching my phone in my pocket, fingers on the button that would trigger the emergency dial. It at least helped to know that I had a way to get out of trouble.

The relief I felt when I pulled the door closed behind me in my own apartment was palpable. My roommates were all asleep, but the knowledge that they were here was comforting.

That comfort was almost immediately eclipsed by exhaustion. It had been an astonishingly busy day. Diana. Viv. Lauren. Werelions.

Twenty four hours ago, I had been dancing with Viv, trying to figure out what a thaumaturge was.

---

Monday morning. The first day of my summer classes, and I'd overslept. Blearily, I stumbled out of bed and started going through my morning routine.

Maybe it seems odd to you that I'd still go to class. But I didn't know what else to do, really. And from what I could tell, Diana, Viv, and Lauren all did more mundane things with their time, too. It wasn't spells and sorcery 24/7.

A truth that became almost immediately apparent when I got out of the shower and went into the living room.

"You look like hell. Why didn't you answer our texts last night?" Alyssa said flatly, eyeing me from the couch where she was eating some toast.

"I ended up, uh...out late." I said the words shortly. I had gotten their texts, but Lauren and I had been busy...and then I figured I was already on my way home. "And, uh, I didn't see them until I was headed home last night anyway, sorry."

"Out late? You were gone early too...we didn't see you at all yesterday, dude." Chris was at the table, the usual mountain of breakfast in front of the big man. He actually put his fork down to talk to me -- an unheard-of occurrence during breakfast.

I tried to let their concern warm my heart as opposed to irritating me. I couldn't tell them everything, obviously. "I, uh...actually ended up on two back-to-back dates, unexpectedly. First with the girl from last night and then the one from Friday."

"Yeah? Well, maybe give us a heads-up next time, Chris here was worried sick." Alyssa poked him in the ribs.

"First of all, Alyssa was the one who was ready to call the cops if you weren't here in the morning." He glared at her, then glanced back at me. "But for real, we were a little worried."

"Look, my bad, okay? Sorry. I'll, uh, text back sooner next time." I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly. "I've just...been busy."

Alyssa gave me an annoyed look. "Yeah, we know. You were barely around all weekend. I mean, who even

are

these girls, anyway? You had better keep hanging out with us even though your dating life is apparently picking up."

I was about to give her a snarky reply, but I was preempted.

"Man, stop giving him the third degree. He's just living his life."

The three of us all paused. It was unusual for Sam to interject in our good-natured bickering.

If I haven't mentioned Sam much yet, it's because Sam made herself scarce. It was rare for Samantha to make appearances before noon at all. My third roommate, who had just appeared in the living room, was wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. Her black hair was up in a messy bun. She was short -- shorter than Alyssa, even -- and her dark eyes were furrowed in a scowl that we had all been the target of, at one point or another.

She could be a little irritable, to say the least.

Alyssa just sighed. "Fine, fine. I get it, Matt. Getting your rocks off is

super

important. Way more important than hanging out with your friends and roommates."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Alyssa. I'm overwhelmed by your sincerity. Anyway, I gotta go, or I'm gonna be late. I'll see you guys tonight!"

I grabbed a bagel and headed out the door.

---

I was rushing across campus, trying to make up for running late, when a familiar voice directed my way as I walked past caught my attention.

"You got lucky last night."

I practically skidded to a stop and turned.

It was Brooke -- the young woman I'd choked unconscious.

The would-be

kidnapper

.

Now that I wasn't in the grips of the fight-or-flight response I'd been having the night before, I turned, and gave her a more honest once-over.

She was athletic and short, with blonde hair that was up in a practical ponytail. She was wearing a school-branded tank top and black leggings, and had a gym bag slung over one shoulder -- the build and attire of a cheerleader or gymnast or something, on her way to or from practice.

I almost did a double-take looking at her, now. Yeah, she looked fit, but she was small -- she couldn't weigh much more than a hundred pounds. The snarling violence of last night, the takedown she'd hit me with, were completely incongruous with the woman in front of me now.

On the other hand...her green eyes were staring up at me, narrowed, with barely contained disgust and outrage painted across her pretty face. There were a few other women dressed similarly -- and wearing similar expressions -- behind her. Presumably teammates.

Maybe...

pridemates?

My hand slipped into my pocket, finger on the button I needed to press rapidly to trigger that emergency SOS call.

With the artifact in hand, I felt pretty safe. I decided that I wasn't going to be intimidated. "No, I didn't." I gave her a tight smile. "You should work on your technique. Maybe take a grappling class. You didn't know what you were doing."

One of the women behind her let out a sharp, offended intake of breath.

Brooke bared her teeth in an expression that, technically, met the definition of a smile. But it had a lot more in common with an apex predator letting another animal see just how big its fangs were. "Careful. A witch won't always be around to save you. Did you fuck her, after? Give her some power in exchange for protecting you?"

The animalistic rage in her voice was a little scary when I thought about how strong she was. But I knew backing down would be a mistake, would just mean she thought she could push me around.

So instead I laughed. "After what my friend did to you?

You

should be careful. You know that they just let people walk their dogs around freely, on campus? Corgis, terriers, even the occasional golden retriever, all roaming about. Some of them

off-leash

, even. Barking and chasing squirrels and everything. I'd watch out."

Brooke glowered at me. "Your friend? Hah. The witches don't even

like

you." Her voice was a furious, hissed whisper. "You're just some loser. They're just

using

you. You think they'd even

know what your name is

, if you couldn't give them power? You're nothing to them."

Ouch.

That rang true in a way I didn't expect. But I tried not to show it. She was just a fucking bully.

I rolled my eyes. "Some loser who

put you to sleep

. What's that make you?"

In the way that bullies tend to, though, she seemed to realize she had hit a nerve. "Or maybe you like it, huh? Getting drained to give them power? Do they get you off quick?" she spat the words at me.

That stopped me in my tracks. I hesitated, didn't reply.

Her eyes glimmered with malice. "I bet they

do

. Because for them, it's all a means to an end. They don't

like

fucking you. It's just about getting the power out of you as quickly as possible. And, I mean, there's no way a guy like you is gonna make it last for them."

I knew this was just mean-girl bullshit, but it still stung. I

did

cum quickly.

Triumph blossomed into a cruel smile on her face. "But hey, maybe you're such a loser that you don't mind trading your self-respect for thirty seconds of fun. Who cares if they even like you as long as you're getting off, right?"

In spite of what I was thinking, I tried to keep the smile on my face and rally. "You sure have thought a lot about how I have sex, haven't you, Brooke? I guess I should've figured, when you tackled me last night. Y'know, I told Clint I wouldn't cut deals, but maybe if you

beg nicely

..."

Brooke practically trembled with rage. For a moment, I thought she was actually going to attack me, and my fingers tensed on the emergency-teleport-button. But then one of the women behind her put a hand on her shoulder, and she seemed to calm herself down.

She gave me a feral grin. "Oh, if I ever want to trade

my

dignity and thirty seconds of my time for some power, I'll be sure to let you know. Until then, you'd better not step out of line while you're in our territory, or being a two-pump chump for those witches will be the least of your worries." One of the women behind her giggled.

"See ya, Matt." She turned and walked off, the rest of her little pack trailing after her.

What a fucking bitch

.

I made sure

not

to watch her toned butt shimmy as she walked away. I was now late for class anyway. I turned and got moving.

The exchange had made me realize something. I had expected that finally getting some answers -- what it meant to be a thaumaturge, those texts between Lauren and Viv, all of it -- would make my life make more sense.

But instead I just had more questions. Foremost among them: did these women even actually

like

me?

I hoped so. Lauren, Viv, Diana -- they all seemed nice. I liked them. But they

were

kind of using me, weren't they?

And Brooke's comment about my stamina was certainly on the mark. Maybe it was a feature of thaumaturges...or maybe she'd just been throwing insults until one stuck.

And then I was at the studio, and there wasn't any more time for thinking about that -- I was already a minute late for a class I was actually looking forward to.

---

My course load had always been an odd mix as an art and engineering double major.

I was glad to be taking a sculpture class. I had done some metalworking sculpture already; I liked the materials science aspect of sculpture, and the way physics really mattered when you were building something big. But I didn't have a good mastery for detail at all, let alone for human figure and composition.

I was the last student to arrive. It was a small class; eight of us, and the professor -- who watched me walk in with a kindly smile, and glanced down at a clipboard, obviously confirming that all her students were now here.

"Welcome everyone; I think our last student just walked in, so get settled, please, because we're going to get started. You're in Art 333, Elements of Figure Sculpture -- if for some reason you wandered into the campus's sculpture studio looking for a biology class or something, now would be the time to leave quietly." The professor winked at us. A girl next to me snorted and several others laughed.

"I'm your professor; my name is Elana Callis. You can call me Professor Callis or Elana; I don't especially mind which."

I had never met her in person, but Elana Callis was a big part of the reason I had wanted to take this course.

I liked her art. I had seen a few of her larger pieces around campus. They were varied, each interesting.

New Giraffe

: A standing newborn giraffe calf, in bronzework, the hues of the metal replicating the giraffe's pattern of creamy browns. She'd somehow captured the unsteadiness, the spindly, wobbly legs, perfectly, in spite of it being cast in metal.

Sky Wonder:

A granite statue of a teenager, neck craned to stare up, openmouthed bewilderment on her face, a backpack -- also carved granite -- dangling from one hand, forgotten.

Bighearted:

In front of the Life Sciences building, a glass-encased replica of a blue whale's heart -- detailed, life-sized at five feet tall, and carved in three dimensions out of white oak wood.