The Thaumaturge Ch 09

Author's Note: A big thank you to Kurt Mueller for sponsoring this chapter of the Thaumaturge. I appreciate the support (and the clever idea.)

Sorry for the delay in getting this live; future postings to the series should be a little more consistent.

Also, this is a bit more erotic-horror-ish than prior chapters, but I don't think it's

so

far down that road to be a huge deviation from the overall the tone of the series.

Thanks for reading and enjoy.

--

Evidently the speaking portion of the reception had gotten started without us. A woman -- brassy red hair, bright lipstick, wearing a black pantsuit and blazer -- was speaking. She was a bit younger than the average age in the room -- in her mid 40s, maybe -- and had been one of the people around Professor Callis. She had an aristocratic lilt to her voice and was speaking into a handheld microphone.

"...And

that's

why, friends, when Elana Callis asks you if you've got a

little

space to show off a few

small

sculptures that

might

make for a

half-decent

exhibition, you ask her for more specifics." The crowd rumbled with laughter, and the woman smiled, clearly pleased with the reception that joke had gotten.

"That woman's name is Camilla. She owns the gallery. Iris introduced me to her earlier when we came in," Diana murmured to me. It made sense to me; even to my uncultured eye, the woman had

Art Gallery Curator

written all over her.

Then Diana turned a little away from everyone else, and started holding one hand above her forearm and muttering quietly in a low, chanting cadence.

Camilla continued. "But I should just let her speak for herself. Without further ado, here's Elana Callis. I know you'll enjoy hearing from her." The two women embraced, and then she handed the mic to my professor, accompanied by applause.

Diana and I were at the back of the room, and didn't attract any attention -- everyone was focused on the women speaking at the front. I glanced at her forearm; Diana was waving her hand above what seemed to be a tattoo of an owl.

Elana was wearing a dress with a geometric pattern on it -- green triangles against a white background. It was long, coming down around her ankles, but sleeveless and cut low, showing off strong pale arms and plunging cleavage.

"Well, unfortunately for Camilla, I'm not in the habit of speaking for myself very long. I try to let the art do the talking," Elana said, jovially, eyes twinkling from behind her glasses. "But I'll just say two things that you might like to be thinking about as you look through the exhibit downstairs."

As I watched there was a flicker of some kind of motion, from Diana's tattoo. It was subtle, hard to spot, and could've just been the dim light...

"First," Elana said, "all sculpture is fundamentally about capturing some aspect of life in nonliving materials. The beauty of sculpture, to me, is in the juxtaposition: life's movement, change, fluidity, dynamism, captured unexpectedly in an unmoving, inert substance. Bringing a bit of life to something that isn't alive, just by reshaping it. I just try to do that well. I'll let you judge whether I've succeeded."

I glanced back at Diana -- she was looking up, now, scanning the room with her eyes. She made a little surprised sound. I was still half-listening to Elana.

"And second," Elana continued, "The works in this exhibit are all living things sculpted in stone. One of the interesting things about life is how much of it is building, growing, adding. Most art is like that, too. To paint, you lay down colors, one on top of another, until they all add up to the picture you want. But sculpting is the opposite. You remove some material. And then some more. And then more. And then a little more, to refine the shape further. And then a little bit more. And in the end, if you've done your job right, what's left after you take everything else away is

exactly what you want

." Elana paused, letting that sink in.

"What? What is it?" I asked Diana in a low, impatient, murmur.

She leaned in, whispering to me. "Well, your professor is definitely magical. So's Camilla. And Iris is magical too, obviously. But besides you and me, that's it."

I opened my mouth to answer, but Elana was talking again. "Sculpture's about the accumulation of absences. About what's missing, and the shape that gives to what is left over. Sometimes, I think we could all benefit from living a little more like sculptors, and a little less like painters." She smiled, warmly. "Anyway. That's all. Enjoy the sculptures. I haven't figured out how to make them talk yet, but I do think they speak for themselves."

Laughter and applause followed. Camilla directed folks towards the elevators and stairs.

I turned to Diana, speaking a little more loudly now that there was the buzz of background conversation. "What kind of magical?"

Diana rolled her eyes. "Quite magical. Like, as magical as Iris. The spell isn't really more

specific

than that."

"Hmm." If I was honest, it made sense. Even that first interaction in class, when I'd been staring into her eyes, had not felt normal. "Think she's dangerous?"

"Yes," Diana said, immediately. "

Everyone

magical is dangerous." She hesitated for a moment, and then added, somewhat grudgingly, "But she's a potential ally for you, too. Like we were talking about earlier. Does she seem friendly?"

I nodded. "She did in class today, yeah."

"Great. C'mon, let's go talk to her."

I was still processing the fact that my art professor was...well, maybe a fairy. Or a witch. demon. Or a vampire. Or

something else

. "Are you sure--"

But Diana had grabbed my hand and started dragging me towards my professor. "

Yes

, I'm sure. C'mon, I'll be with you in case she's got a weird reaction. There's not going to be a better time than this."

Reluctantly, I followed Diana over towards Elana.

She was chatting with Camilla, the two of them watching as people filed into the elevator and down the stairs to explore the exhibition. They both turned as we approached, and a beatific smile formed on Elana's face when she saw me. "Matt! So good to see you!"

"H-hi, Professor." I smiled a little more timidly than I would've liked. "Great talk. This is Diana, my--"

"Your

friend

, yes! I remember. From your sketch in class. Your representation is quite good!" Elana's eyes practically twinkled with mischief.

"Your sketch?" Diana was, understandably, confused.

I blushed beet red. I had completely forgotten that I had picked Diana as the subject. "I, uh, I'll show you later," I mumbled. Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded.

"Anyway, great to meet you, Professor Callis," Diana said. "Looking forward to seeing your work."

"Nice to meet you too, dear. My, you're walking around with quite a lot of artwork yourself! Some of these pieces are

very

interesting..." Elana's eyes roved over Diana's tattoos appraisingly. "Would I be right to say that some of these aren't just artistic pieces? They've got...

functionality

, to them?"

I recalled the owl tattoo she'd been waving her hand over; maybe she'd been using it to cast the spell.

Diana nodded. "You would be right, yes. They're useful."

"Mmm. How very clever and practical. I don't believe I've seen that sort of thing very often before." Professor Callis looked from Diana, to me. "Do you have any tattoos like hers, Matt?"

I understood that the subtext here had communicated to Elana that Diana could do magic. But I was confused about how I was supposed to answer her. "No, I..."

Diana interrupted me. "No, Matt's got other sources of inspiration. You might say he's a

font

of it, himself."

Camilla, who had just been listening with a slightly bored smile on her face, suddenly looked

much

more interested in the conversation.

Professor Callis did, too. "Is he, now?" She looked me over, speculatively. "You know, young man, I thought you might be special when I saw you in class, today, but I wasn't sure. How wonderful. We must talk."

I nodded, uncertainly.

Then she glanced towards the stairs and sighed. "But not now. I hate to cut this short, but Camilla and I need to spend the next hour mingling with rich people. Come find me afterwards when things wrap up. Camilla, you'll let Matt and I stick around and talk for a bit, won't you? I'll close up afterwards."

Camilla snorted. "Well, you've practically taken over the space with your

modest

works anyway, Elana. I don't see why you shouldn't just have the keys to the place."

Elana looked unbothered. "Precisely so, dear."

The two of them headed for the stairs, Diana and I trailing after.

---

"You...you can't leave me here

alone

, Diana! Iris is going to steal my name or trick me into giving her my firstborn child or something!"

We had milled among the sculptures for half an hour or so. It was easy to see why Camilla had been poking fun at Elana's

modest

sculptures. The collection was massive -- maybe a dozen pieces -- and they were all enormous, carved marble that must've weighed tons each. Elana and I were currently staring at a sculpture called

Forest Floor

, which was a life-sized forest scene meticulously carved out of marble -- complete with trees, birds and squirrels, a deer grazing, even a mountain lion watching.

I was currently staring at one particular detail: a human skull, which was nestled innocuously enough among the roots of a tree. It wasn't the focal point of the scene. More of an afterthought. And it felt ominous that as I stared looked at the omen of death, Diana casually let me know she was going to leave.

Diana's reply was flat, if a bit irritated. "Yes, I can. I had other plans for my evening besides babysitting you. Besides, you'll be

fine

, Matt. Iris knows you're with me. So do Camilla and Elana. It'd be very rude for them to do anything untoward. And nobody else is here. Time to take off the security blanket. Just text me if you get into trouble, ok?"

The mention of texting reminded me that I still had my

other

security blanket -- the artifact from Lauren -- and that I could teleport to her place on a moment's notice, if I needed to.

That made me feel a little better. "Ok. I'll see you later, then. And hey...thanks."

She leaned forward, gave me a hug. "For the great sex?" She whispered it in my ear.

I laughed. "Yes. But I was actually talking about the...dose of perspective."

That half-smile appeared on her lips for a moment. "No problem. Have a good time." She turned and strode off towards the exit.

I found a spot to contemplate some sculptures, and wait for Professor Callis to finish mingling.

---

I was sitting on a bench, next to a piece called

The Coupling

. It was a man and woman, bodies clearly intertwined in the act of sex, the man atop the woman. It was magnificently rendered in stone. There was one technique in particular that I was trying to wrap my head around. Any place where their bodies met -- at the hips, where the man's hand rested on the woman's thigh, the woman's hand on the man's bicep, and so on -- their bodies just sort of...seamlessly came together. The way the two bodies seemed to merge, while still being distinct and exquisitely detailed, was remarkable. I kept noticing little tricks she'd used to achieve the effect.

"Like it?" It was Professor Callis. She sat next to me on the bench.

I nodded vigorously...then realized maybe I was being too enthusiastic, for a sculpture that very accurately depicted two attractive people having sex. I slowed my nod down. "The techniques you use where they're joined are really effective."

She smiled. "Thank you, dear. If I'm honest, I've always been best with sculpting people. It's where my real talent lies."

"I thought your other pieces were quite good, too, professor," I protested. "I liked

Forest Floor

a lot!"

"Now, now, buttering me up won't get you any better grades, young man," she said. She said it severely, but it made me grin.

She smiled too, after a moment. "And you have to call me Elana. Besides, we're not here to talk about

my

art. Tell me, is what Diana said true?"

"I'm...not really sure what she said, to be honest," I confessed. "I'm a little new at this."

"She said you're a

font

. A thaumaturge." Elana let the word hang between us in the silence.

I just nodded, again.

"Mmm." Her eyes practically

glowed

with satisfaction in the low light of the exhibit space. "And you said you're new...who's helping you, who are your allies? Diana?"

"Diana and a few other witches, yes," I said, guardedly.

She leaned forward earnestly, concern in her eyes. "Diana seems just lovely, dear. But she doesn't seem all that...

experienced

. Do you have someone who's been around a bit longer, who can show you the ropes? Help you get your footing? Keep you safe? Has maybe done this before, for other thaumaturges?"

The earnestness, the motherly concern, was already giving me a sense of relief.

This

felt like the kind of help I needed. "Not really, no..."

"Well, then. Can

I

help you, dear?" Those brown eyes met mine, crinkled into a hopeful smile.

"What, um...kind of help...would you be able to...give?" I got the words out more slowly than I expected, as I met her gaze. As they had been in class, her eyes were big, and dark. They were deep, mirrored pools. They didn't pull me in, exactly; it was more like I drifted in of my own will, plunging into their embrace, warm...

I blinked. She had said something, was looking at me expectantly. I mentally played back the last few...

seconds?

...trying to figure out what she'd said.

She gave me a knowing smile, and repeated, "I was saying that I can do lots of things, dear. I've been around a little while, and I know the magical world pretty well. I'd be happy to give you good advice." She gave a self-deprecating smile. "And I could help sculpt your power in a few other small-but-useful ways, too."

"Is...is that a metaphor?

Sculpt

my power? And...and I hope this isn't offensive, but what are

you

? Your eyes are..." I trailed off, not wanting to say any of the words that came to mind.

Hypnotic. All-encompassing. Sexy.

"...really

nice

," I finished.

She smiled. "Why thank you, dear. And I'm sorry, I know they can be distracting. I do mute the effect as much as I'm able, and the glasses help but it still...spills out, sometimes." She patted my thigh...which prompted me to realize that her hand had been resting on my thigh for a while, now.

When had she put her hand there?

"I'll tell you what I am, but it has to be just our little secret, ok?" She paused, waiting for me to nod, and then stage-whispered, conspiratorially, "I'm a gorgon."

I was speechless for a moment. "Like...Medusa? Snakes-for-hair? Turn-men-to-stone?"

She nodded. "Yes, that kind of gorgon."

I looked at her -- glasses, wavy brown hair, pretty face. "So how come I'm not turning to stone? Are you like...using some illusion for your hair?"

She rolled her eyes. "Those sorts of myths are mostly allegorical, dear boy. My guess is that a bunch of horny Greek men all got erections from looking at a pretty young woman named Medusa, and went and told some friends about how she

turned them to stone

. Maybe she liked to collect statuary on top of that, had a pet boa constrictor or two. That sort of thing. That's all you need before someone's ready to label you a monster, especially back in

those

days. I imagine, anyway."

I snorted at the humor. That did make sense. And then -- with embarrassment -- it registered that

I

was now hard, like the horny Greek men she was talking about.

Elana sighed. "The underlying truth

behind

the myth, though, dear, is that gorgons are excellent sculptors and shapers, especially of humans. People come especially easy for us; rendering them in stone, wood, whatever. But it includes the shaping of people, too."

My face reddened. I didn't think the double entendre in

people come especially easy for us

was intentional, but -- sitting next to her, rock hard just from looking in her eyes -- it was impossible not to think of it. I swallowed. "Um, okay. What does that mean you can do?"

"Well, let's focus on

you

, dear. And I'm going to use some frank language, in the interest of cutting to the chase. Your power is connected to sex, obviously. And so you might like some adjustments that would help make that more...fulfilling. I've helped other thaumaturges with things like their anatomy, the quality of their erections, their stamina..."

She continued speaking. But admittedly, I'm not sure what else she said. Her gaze was locked on mine, and I wasn't about to look away. I sank into the blissful sensation of those eyes, letting them encompass me, gentle and warm...

I blinked and wrestled back to the surface and my thoughts. I latched on to the first few things she'd said. "My...anatomy? Like...my size?"

She smiled indulgently. "Yes, dear boy. That's a relatively easy one, even. Perhaps we'll start there, just as a demonstration of what's possible with my help? It'll only take a moment."

I considered that. In spite of the comment that Diana had made earlier tonight, I'd always been pretty happy with my size.

But what guy would say no to a bit more?

Not me, certainly. The idea was pretty exciting, that was for sure. How might Diana react, or Viv, the next time...

I cut off that train of thought before I got carried away. "Um...okay. But not like...

too

big a change, right?"

She quirked up an eyebrow. "Oh, I see. You want to be smaller instead?" She waved away the look on my face. "Sorry, a little joke, but probably not very funny to make, just before I sculpt you. Although I have gotten that request before, believe it or not. But don't worry. I've got a good eye for proportion, dear; I

am

a sculptor, after all. It won't be...cartoonish, or garish. I would

never

. Now, if you'll just get it out, I can get to work..." she looked down at my groin again, expectant.

I met her eyes, and my thoughts drifted into those dark pools. I couldn't help but think about the many ways she might

get to work

on me, what it might mean that she knew the human body so well, how she'd feel--

Once again, I wrenched myself, by force of will, back into the moment.

I unbuckled my belt and slid my pants down, then my boxers. "I'm, um, sorry about my...state," I said, embarrassed. I was now absolutely, uncontrollably, rock hard, the kind of erection that's so hard it's almost painful.

"Quite alright, dear. Nothing to be sorry about, it's a natural response," she murmured. Her gaze was fixed on my cock, now. "Very nice. Everything certainly seems to be in good working order here..."

Her tone was suggestive, and I flushed with pleasure.

"Now. Before we get started. Here's the thing about these alterations, dear: they require a certain degree of focus from me, and they're a delicate process. Once I start working on them, I can't stop. Trust me when I say you don't want me to leave the...sculpting work...

half-finished

." She wrinkled her nose distastefully.

I nodded my vigorous understanding at that. I did

not

want an incomplete penis.

"What that means for this particular alteration -- because it's an adjustment to your size -- is that I'll need you to stay hard until I'm done. If you don't, the results just won't come out right. But this'll be quick; it'll only take a minute or so."

I just had to stay hard for a minute?

"I, uh, don't think that'll be a problem."