The 13th Mage (9 page)

“But you are talking about witches, psychics, mages and elders like they are all the same, I know for a fact that psychics are not all witches, there was one in
Dublin
my friends and I went to see, she did the Tarot.
She had more saints on her walls than the local church, there was nothing witchy about her, and I am absolutely sure that she could do no magic whatsoever.
Although she did guess lots of stuff with the cards. And I’ve never heard of Elders.”

She watched Owen
becoming
uncom
fortable. H
e probably didn’t expect her to know so much about the matter.
She didn’t really know
anything much at all, but with all the happenings in the house she had begun buying “Strange Happenings” and reading books on the occult so
k
new the difference between psychics, witches and pagans, she even knew a little about Wicca.

“That’s mortal magic.”

“Mortal? You are not going to tell me you are some kind of immortal being that goes around chopping other immortals heads off are you?”

“No, I am not going to tell you that.”

“Good.
You had me going there for a second.
What do you mean by mortal magic? Is it mortal as in deadly? Magic that kills people?”

“Well, no.
Mortal magic is the tip of the iceberg. Mage magic is not something you’ll find on the Internet or at a local Wiccan gathering nor is it something you can do with a candle and wishful thinking.
What it does require is a lot of study and concentration.
I am working on something and I need to practice a lot, and if you go barging in on me when I am not in my body… meditating, then it breaks up and I am not in complete control of my body, it’s like my soul and my body are out of
sync
, like they are out of focus.”

“Oh, like Out of the Body Experiences.
I had one of those once.”

“Yes! Like one of those. Having an Out of the Body Experience is not something just anyone can do, nor is it reading other people’s minds or thinking so loud your thoughts can be heard on the other side of the house. Somehow you are turning into a mage and I want to know how much you know about it all.”

“I don’t know much at all really, I didn’t even know my thoughts were running around the house all by themselves.”

This
brought a smile to Owen’s face. H
e l
ooked satisfied with the answer. I
t occurred to her that the conversation had come to a sudden end.

“And this ghost, the butler, is he the only ghost in the house?” She asked, not ready to let the topic go just yet.

“Yes, and if you see any other ghosts you must tell me immediately.”

“He kind of looks like you.”

Owen stared at her in surprise.

“I don’t mean you as such, well, you know, he’s kind of tall and has curly hair, well if he wasn’t transparent and about a hundred years old I would say he was very similar…”

She could tell he was upset about this, not something he wanted
to talk about. I
t was probably a family secret. Maybe the butler had been his great-grandmother’s lover and the real father of her children.
Maybe Owen wasn’t an O’Neil after all,
and
maybe she should stop thinking these things.
She tried to think quietly but Owen was still staring at her and he now looked a little annoyed. She decided to change the subject.
She had never had a conversation like this and she didn’t want it to end.
If it had happened a few months earlier, before the strange things had started happening she would have just dismissed it all as mumble jumble.

“So, what’s your theory about my becoming more psychic then, does it mean I can be a witch or an elder do you think?”

“When you first came here you didn’t have any powers whatsoever, but now I can see it radiating in your body, at a genetic level sort of.”

She looked down, “oh no, my baby.
Do you think it might be harming my baby?”

“Not at all, your baby is a completely normal... human…”

She felt a silence of thought after the sentence.
He was keeping something from her, something about the baby.

She looked into his eyes and poked for that thought, the one he didn’t allow himself to have.

He stood up so suddenly his chair went flying, “now here! There are some fundamental rules about things like that, you are not to go poking into people’s minds like that, it’s like if I went into your room and read your diary, or opened your mail.”

“How did you know I had a diary?
Have you been going into my room when I’m not here?”

“I haven’t walked into your room when you are not there, ever.
I guessed you had a diary. M
ost
of the
women I have met have
kept
a diary.
My great-grandmother had a diary, you should know, you read it.”

Jennifer felt something there, something he didn’t quite say but went through her like a knife.

“Oh I see.
You are an expert in women now are you? I can tell you know absolutely nothing about women whatsoever.
You are a typical male chauvinist and I can also tell you have never had an intelligent conversation with a woman before in your entire life.”

“How dare you talk to me like that, you are no more than an infant, a child, and a stupid child at that.
You think you know everything when you don’t know a thing.
I am trying to teach you the basic rules for the powers you now possess and all you can think of doing is
to
insult me in the most pathetic ways.”

“I might be many things but stupid is not one of them, you think you are cleverer than me because you are a couple years older, and you might well be with regard theories and books but this is real life and if you hadn’t spent your entire life buried in books and computers
you would realize that there are things that you cannot learn from them.”

“I see, and seeing as you have had such a long life and wide experience you will teach me those things? Like you didn’t bury yourself in books about everything? Like you’ve lived?”

“Yes. A
nd the first lesson is that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” saying this she got up and stormed out of the kitchen, banging her bedroom door behind her.

How dare he?
She thought.
And to think she had felt sorry for him for not having a family or friends.
No wonder he didn’t have friends, he was the most obnoxious
boy
she had ever met. It was probably from being a rich spoilt grandson.

The way he had looked at her belly when he said she had wide experience hadn’t passed her by either.
She had wondered if he felt she was some sort of tramp for gett
ing pregnant, this confirmed it. H
e probably hadn’t taken her on as a housekeeper if it wasn’t because she was carrying his own brother’s baby.

She felt like crying, but she wouldn’t, that would mean he won.
She was glad she didn’t have any brothers, if this was what living with a
boy
was like then at least it was temporary and not something she would have to put up with for an entire lifetime.

Sean couldn’t be more different to his brother if he tried.
Sean was innocent, admitted when he didn’t know things, and full of joy for the smallest things, the simple things in life.

Tears rolled out of her eyes, but she was sure it
wasn’t because of the argument. I
t was because she missed Sean so much it ached.

Her baby started kicking and she felt better, “I know, at least we have each other.”
She said, tenderly stroking her belly.

Owen was furious. He picked up the chair and sat back down, he was more furious than he could ever remember. The girl had stormed off and slammed the door in his face, how dare she. And nothing was working on her. Not magic, nor his charming ways, nothing. It was like she had some sort of shield, something he had never seen before. And how could a mortal suddenly become mage? It was almost as if some of the genetic material from the baby had passed onto the mother, a sort of reverse genetic inheritance. And the type of magic she was using had no borders, no fixed identity. It was a confusing mish mash of both witch and elder magic.

The way she had threatened him with her finger, he could see the energy sucking into it, from all around, even himself, ready to be released and she just switched it off in a split second. It had unnerved him. Just when he thought she was losing control of it she simply held all that energy there, right in front of him, then dispersed it back to its origin more effectively than even he could have.

Not that it would have harmed him had she released it, made him sick for a few days maybe, but that wasn’t the point
.

Having her around was like sitting in front of highly active explosive material without an on-off button.

And the way she had bypassed all his shields and poked in his mind as if it was an open book.
It was unheard of.

Maybe this was the type of witch’s magic the Keeper had meant.
But he couldn’t remember Aeoife doing anything like that.
Maybe she had but was more subtle about it, he thought.

He felt Jennifer crying in her room and suddenly his anger melted away to nothing.
He was upset.
He wanted to comfort her, tell her he was sorry.
He walked to the door and was about to knock.
But she
didn’t love him, she didn’t even like him, her heart belonged to someone else.

Sean was all she wrote about in her diary, and by the sounds of it, it was all she dreamed about
too
.

He had never walked into her room when she wasn’t there, not
in his body anyway. H
e had materialized in
to the room from the Astral which was
not the same thing at all.
He had no idea she’d see him, no mortal had ever seen him before.
She had gone mad when she saw the diary in his hands, started throwing things at him.
At least he had been able to erase that memory, if not entirely, at least the important bit.

The minutes went slowly past and he felt Jennifer going to sleep.
At least she was keeping her thoughts a bit quieter now.

He hadn’t meant for the conversation to turn into an argument.
Nothing was going according to plan.
He had left his quest for the
Staff
on hold and the Keeper’s puzzle to one side because of Jennifer.
He had tried to find Sean for her, even though it meant he would never have Jennifer for himself if he succeeded.
He wanted to see her happy.
But Sean was a mystery, no birth records in any information source, no residuals of magic, nothing.

It was possible, due to his likeness, that Sean was a relative and a mage, especially seeing as Jennifer’s baby was a mage.
This would mean that one or more of his blood relatives were mages, but why had their existence been kept a secret from records and even him?
It didn’t make any sense at all.

He thought of contacting Aeoife, his mage mother. It was obvious from the woman’s involvement that she knew a lot about the entire story, but contacting Aeoife was more trouble than he wanted right now. Plus there was his Elder pride to consider.

Deep down he knew that not using Aeoife as an information source was a mistake, but then there was really no hurry in finding the damn ex-boyfriend and soon father to be in the first place.

He leaned back on his chair and looked around.
The kitchen was a nice place now, newly decorated, clean as a whistle, flowerpots and plants in every space available.

The electric bulb flickered.

He was sad.
He couldn’t remember being so sad since childhood.
Something had made him sad then but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He was sad now because he loved Jennifer and she hated him.
She would never love him because her heart belonged to
someone just like him, except
it wasn’t him and never would be
him
.

His eyes dropped onto Jennifer’s chair, there was a long red curly hair laying on it.

He could borrow it for a few minutes.
To see for himself.
It wasn’t as if he would be violating any rules. Not as long as he stayed away from the present, the past after all was everyone’s domain.

Borrowing was second nature to mages.

He picked up the hair and put it against his face, “Jennifer,” he whispered.
Then got up and went to his study, locking the door behind him in more than one dimension.

The study was a stark contrast to the kitchen, it was dark, it was dusty without having any dust, and the old books seemed to creak with a life of their own.
Now he also had a whole corner covered with the latest computer technology, but the way he used it was truer to the word “surfing” than any mortal could possibly imagine.

He lay down, loosened tight clothing and relaxed.
His body began to buzz. H
e examined the hai
r to establish which end was the root
.

He is in a classroom; young children are listening to a poem,

And the night engulfed the earth

Like a mantle of blackened lace.

No hope,

No joy,

Only fear and dismay…

It is a bright day; he watches the sun flickering through the leaves of the trees, a blackbird play among the branches.

He looks down at his hands, small, covered in freckles, starts drawing something, doodling, no, it is a face.
It is him, she is drawing his
face. She sees him in her mind. H
e disconnects and moves further up the hair.
Looking into the mirror, she is brushing her hair, humming a song.

Beautiful girl, I’m a beautiful girl, da, da, da…

She stops, and stares into her eyes, not her eyes, but him.

“Who are you?”

He darts out of there and moves closer to the present, near, but not quite, the end of the hair.

It is raining, she is waiting for someone, she is excited, her heart is racing, a man turns the corner and she grabs him, he kisses her.
As the man stands back Owen sees his face.
He feels the blood drain from his body.
The man she is with is himself, Owen, but not quite, there is something different.

“I love you,” his voice says to Jennifer, then looks straight at Owen.

Owen closes his eyes and pulls away.

He falls to the floor and tries to breathe, out of
sync
, too sudden, the room spins.

Slowly he regains control of his limbs and sits up.
He feels sick.

Sean was his brother alright, or a clone, some sort of identical copy, at least a physical copy.
And he
is
immortal, like himself.

“Aeoife,” he said struggling to his feet, she would know what this was about, and he had felt her proximity.
It was too late to hold back, the old woman was near and she had the answers.

The strand of hair was still in his hand, he wanted to go back, be with Jennifer if only in the unreality of the past, but he
knew he mustn’t. He was too closely involved and
he might get stuck there forever.
He picked up a lighter and burned the hair.

“Aeoife!” He shouted looking for her, feeling for her.

But Aeoife would not accept the call.
He searched his desk for the letter she had sent him with Jennifer, there was a return address.
Yes, Aeoife was in Skerries, Jennifer’s hometown. Coincidence? He didn’t think so, the old witch had planned this from the beginning, she knew him better than anyone one on earth, it was the reason he had stayed away from her for so long.
It seemed he was always a pawn in her schemes.

He touched the handwriting; Aeoife would be expecting him for tea.
It was ridiculous, he would have to take a plane and visit her in person.
Looking back he regretted not having visited her to begin with, it would have probably saved him a lot of time and trouble.

The next morning Owen skipped breakfast and went straight to see his solicitor Harry Johnson, he wanted to sort certain things out before leaving.

He had the tickets already booked and wouldn’t be coming back to the house, so he took the precaution of power locking his study and leaving Jennifer a list of instructions for the next few months.

Harry Johnson, and his ancestors before him, had normally dealt with the management of his fortune, properties and his will and testament.

Being immortal posed a problem which was easily fixed by making his body younger or older as it suited him.

In order to keep hold of his property and fortune, Owen would usually leave it all to his estranged son, who would appear ten or so years later, long enough for him to lose a couple of decades from his body.
But now that he didn’t know, and wouldn’t know for a while, what he was going to do, he had decided to leave Jennifer the house at
Oak Place
and a small fortune to his niece, or whatever the baby was.
It was not exactly what witches had in mind when they fostered a mage child, but he couldn’t stay with Jennifer, not now.
And he was quite capable of protecting the baby against the Shadow ones from the other side of the world if need be.

“So, a
young, beautiful housekeeper.
Honesty Owen, a man of your upbringing should know better.
Irish is she?” Harry said grinning, “what
does
your grandfather have to say about this?”

“My grandfather is delighted that I have started sowing my wild oats Harry, you should know that.”

“Yes, that sounds like the Owen I know.
But surely accepting paternity is a mistake my boy, there is the matter of inheritance to think of.
And what will happen when you finally decide to tie the knot?
What will your new wife think of your bastard child?
I suggest you take my advice and see it as a folly of youth.
Forget all about it
Owen, send her away and deny all responsibility.
It m
ight not even be yours you know. T
hese young girls are very promiscuous these days,
especially
her sort”

A large antique vase fell to the floor on the opposite side of the room, breaking into a million pieces.

“Oh dear, how on earth did that happen, I hope it wasn’t very valuable,” said Owen in a way that made Harry rather uneasy.
The young man’s
grandfather had the same knack of making him feel as though complete accidents were no accident at all.

“Yes it was,” he said and called his personal assistant to clean it up, “it’s insured of course, but irreplaceable.”

“Pity.”

“Yes, well.
I suppose there is nothing I can say that will change your mind about this child?”

“No, nothing.”

“Very well, I will draw out the papers but with one condition, and I hope you are not silly enough to deny me this young Owen, I want the baby to be DNA tested as a primary condition for the contract to take effect.”

“No.”

“No? Why on earth not?
Are you worried it might not be yours after all?”

“I am a gentleman Harry.
I would not insult my mistress by subjecting our child to a DNA test.”

Harry smiled, gentlemanly behavior was a thing of the past, and it was strange to see it in a young man nowadays.

“I want my child to have the best education money can buy, everything it could possibly need in the future, and I want the mother to be happy.
I have my reasons to leave and don’t know if I will ever return, I want your word that my wishes will be carried out.”

“There is no question about it Owen my boy; I will do everything in my power to make sure your child is taken care of with the best our society can provide.”

The papers were ready twenty minutes later; Owen read them thoroughly and signed on the dotted line.

An hour later he was on a plane to
Ireland
.
Aeoife had some explaining to do and she had refused a projected meeting. Witches were all the same, face to face conversation, she had said, and nothing can replace it.

Aeoife was an early starter, she liked the energy of the rising sun to get most of her chores done, leaving the rest of the day free to be a pensioner.
This morning she got up
particularly
earl
y to prepare for Owen’s arrival. S
he hadn’t seen him for a very long time.
She wondered how he had matured, he had been a very tall, lanky and rather headstrong fellow as a youth, unusual for his family.
She loved Owen dearly. H
e had been her first adopted child.
She hadn’t been prepared at the time, taking a budding mage into her house wasn’t something she had planned on doing.
But it was impossible for a witch to turn away a child outcast by his people
because
his or her extraordinary abilities.