Edited by Kristine Roland

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.

Special thanks to Julie O., from whose concepts of magic I have borrowed a little. No Julieverse characters appear in this story.
 
 
One

The alarm went off at 6:30 am. Way too early. Well, nothing new there, it's always too early. Things one does for money!

I turned around and fumbled for the clock with my eyes closed. It wasn't there. Prying my eyes open, I saw that it was lying on the floor, and memory started coming back to me.

She was good. Really good. She had done things I had only read about, and some I hadn't. Damn, I never knew you could do that with your mouth!

We'd knocked the alarm clock off the nightstand somewhere during the passionate lovemaking last night.

I had picked her up in a club I frequent occasionally. They were running an “After Work Party” event on a Thursday night; usually it's all yuppies and brokers. Me, I'm neither.

I'm a reporter. Not a famous one, not even well known. I freelance, dig up stories, write them up and offer them to newspapers and magazines. I don't do too badly, but I have to work for it.

I'm 6'2”, sandy blond hair, in pretty good shape, but getting a bit soft around the middle as I head for my 40th birthday next month.

So, yeah, I felt like going out, and went to the club last night. I had never seen her there before, if I had, I would have remembered. There was something in her eyes, something wild, predatory.

I didn't pick her up, she picked me up. I don't think I had any say in it, and I don't think I minded.

Our sex was incredible, like nothing I had ever experienced before. She was the aggressor, demanding, controlling, but also giving me so much.

I turned to the other side of the bed and saw she was gone.

Swinging my legs out of the bed, I saw a piece of paper on the nightstand. In her handwriting, it said “Thank you. And, sorry!”

I shook my head. "Sorry? For what?"

I got up, and headed for the kitchen. The usual morning routine. Got some toast, dropped it in the toaster, pushed down. Hit the switch on the coffee machine.

Then I went to the bathroom. I used the toilet, and went to the sink. A look in the mirror showed me the usual. Male, not ugly, tousled hair that could use a trim... a trim? I had a haircut 2 weeks ago. It can't be that time again? “Damn, that's weird,” I thought as I reached for the shaver.

I ran the humming shaver across my face, but I found I really didn't need to. Right, I guess I shaved before going to the club, yes, that must be it.

I went to the bedroom, grabbed a new pair of boxers, my jeans from yesterday, a clean tee, and then I went to the kitchen to grab my toast and coffee.

The t-shirt felt loose on me; did I really burn so many calories last night? Thinking back, it made me smile... yes, I probably did, at that!

I sat down with my toast and coffee and planned my day. There was a visit to the archives of the local newspaper, to research some background on a human interest story I was working on. Boring, but it pays the bills.
The other lead I had looked like it would be a bit more exciting. I hadn't sold it to any newspaper yet, but I believe it has the potential to make me a bit of money. I had latched onto it while studying the various papers I get from around the area, plus a friend or two at the local police station.

Somehow, there were an unusual number of suicides involving young, attractive women. None of them could be identified, nothing. No history, friends, dental records. No fingerprints, they simply didn't exist. All were in perfect health, none appeared to be involved with the sex industry, the mob, or drugs. And many of them were virgins. Weird.

Well, I had to go off to the archives, another boring day.

Traffic was as bad as always and I was glad when I finally turned into the parking lot of the newspaper's building.

“Morning Stacy!” I called when I walked into the building.

Stacy was the pretty blonde receptionist there. I would have tried to date her, but the first time I tried to pick her up, she made it abundantly clear that I had no chance at all. We became friends, sharing lunch on days where I had to do much research and we talked. I had thought that she had a boyfriend or husband and pulled all my courage together one day, asking “Would your boyfriend not be jealous if he knew that you have lunch with me here?”

“No," she said, "I don't have a boyfriend, or a husband, for that matter.” She looked at me for a moment, and said “ and I wouldn't want one. I don't swing that way.”
We've been friends since.

I stepped up to the counter, and said “I have another boring day of research. I need a pass for the archives, for all day. Lunch, later?”

Stacy took a visitor's pass of the stack, scribbled a few lines, pushed it into a clear clip-on pouch and handed it to me with a smile “Sure, I break at one today, see you then!”

I clipped the pass to my jeans pocket and went through the turnstile into the newspaper's office, following my usual path to the elevators and down to the basement and the archives there. I waved hello to Joe, who manages the archives and went past him into the low, long room full of shelves.

I pulled the first month of papers off the shelf and sat down at a reading table with my yellow pad and pen to make notes with, and a roll of quarters to make copies of what I found and started to work.
Heavens, I sure was feeling a bit off today. A few times I caught myself drifting off and I did feel a bit lightheaded, too. I guessed I was coming down with something and I hoped it would at least wait until I was done here before really hitting me. Anyway, I didn't really get much done, only about 6 months worth of papers. Oh well.

My watch beeped at 12:45, and I quickly packed up my stuff for lunch. I felt famished and was really looking forward to my break with Stacy. She's a really nice girl and we mesh well. I stood up, took a step and my foot slipped out of my shoe! Slipping my foot back in, the shoe felt too big. At least two sizes too big! Feet don't shrink and, last time I checked, shoes also didn't grow. I pulled up my jeans, damn, they felt loose too, so I tightened the belt one notch. They were too long, as well, and my t-shirt felt more loose than this morning. The incredible shrinking man. Yeah. Right.

I headed out, walking carefully so I wouldn't lose my shoes, taking the elevator up to reception level to meet up with Stacy. She wasn't quite ready and I had a few minutes to think.

I seem to have shrunk, I mused. My shoes are too big, my jeans are too big and too long, my t-shirt is loose. That just doesn't happen. Not in real life. So, how?

Stacy finally got relieved and we headed to the Italian pizzeria restaurant around the corner, and managed to snag a small table at the back of the room. We ordered drinks and food and the waiter left.

My concerns must have been written on my face, because Stacy came straight out and asked me “Is there anything wrong?”

“Well,” I said, “there is, but it's really weird. It might not be anything at all, but I think I'm shrinking!”

She gave me a strange look as I went on, “When I dressed this morning, this t-shirt felt a little looser than last time I wore it. Now, it's two sizes too big, and so is everything else I'm wearing!”
She looked me over and said, “I see what you mean, but it's not just that. You look, well, different....”

“Different,” I asked, "In what way?”

My hand went to my face, and I felt something very different from what I am used to; there was no stubble. None at all. Less than what the morning's shave had left me with!

Stacy looked at me and saw the panic in my eyes and said “What...
“No stubble,” I said, “I don't have any stubble!”

I started to panic, jumped up to run to the restroom and a mirror. I did look different, and very much so. I looked like a much younger version of myself, like 10 years had been taken off me, and totally smooth. This was so strange, I felt like I had slipped into the twilight zone as I ran my hands across my totally smooth chin.

I remembered where I was when the door opened and another man passed behind me on the way to the urinals. I turned around and left the restroom, heading back to the table and a very concerned looking Stacy.

“I need to get out of here. Something isn't right. I might be getting sick or something,” I said.

“You look different,” she said, “younger. How?”

“I don't know. I have absolutely no idea. I have to see a doctor, I guess.”

By this time, I had calmed down a bit inside and at this moment, the food arrived. I decided that I could always panic later, with a full stomach, and tucked in. Hey, a guy's gotta eat, you know?

I was really famished, and finished my pizza in record time. Nothing much was said as we both tried to make sense out of what was happening to me. I decided I would not go back to my research today, but go home instead and try to find out what was happening to me, and maybe make an appointment with a doctor. Stacy, of course, had to go back to work. We said our goodbyes and parted at the entrance of the newspaper, and I picked up the car from the lot and drove home.

When I got home, I dug out my tape measure and checked my height. Damn! 5'10”! I'm not 5'10”! I'm 6'2”! I checked again, but the tape stubbornly refused to come up with anything different. So, that means I must be 5'10” now. Now, that's some serious shit! I got on the internet and googled for losing height, height reduction, etc., but, apart from a few very complicated medical procedures, all I found was fiction.

I used my tape measure to take some more measurements, chest, upper arms, thighs, and wrote them down on a piece of paper.

By the time I finished with my measuring and internet research, it was 4 pm and I was feeling unusually tired. I undressed to my shorts and got into my bed because I couldn't seem to keep my eyes open any longer. Sleep came quickly.
 
 
Two

I felt somewhat disoriented as I rolled over and brushed my hair out of my face. I stretched like a cat, yawned, and then my mind started operating. Hair? Yeah, I remembered I needed a trim? What? My hand went to my head and grabbed a handful of the stuff.

I sat bolt upright in my bed and felt my shoulder length hair on my neck and back. Something was very wrong, very wrong indeed! Frantically, I jumped out of bed and went for the bathroom and the mirror there. I felt strange, unbalanced as I moved across the room with my eyes half open, found the bathroom door and turned on the light.

I looked into the mirror and a stranger looked back at me. The world turned black and I didn't even feel my head hit the wall as I slid to the floor in shock.

Sometime later, I came to and found myself on the bathroom floor, memory returned and with it came panic. I remembered what I had seen and got up cautiously to take another look in the mirror. I didn't recognize my own face; I didn't look anything like the person who had gone to bed this afternoon. I looked at my wrist, looking for my watch, but not finding it. My gaze went to my body; rather, to the two protuberances I knew I didn't have before. Breasts. Pert breasts that would look great on a young woman. One like the one that looked back at me in the mirror.

She was pretty, in an androgynous way. Unkempt shoulder length sandy blonde hair framed a somewhat squarish face that looked vaguely like the face I remembered seeing this morning. Suddenly, my mind went into overdrive as I looked down the front of my body for my little friend.

Relief flooded through me, he was still there. However, he wasn't quite as big as I remembered which made me panic again. What if I was really turning into a woman? What if I lost my manhood? What could I do?

I left the bathroom and grabbed my t-shirt, which was much too large now. A quick check with the tape measure put me at 5'6”. How can that be? I stepped out of my bedroom and saw the message light on my answering machine. I pushed the button and waited for the tape in my old fashioned answering machine to rewind.

Whirr! Click! Beep! “Hello, my name is Steve and I'm calling on behalf of First City Bank. I would like to interest you for our new....”

I hit the skip button and the tape moved forward. Beep!

“Hi, this is Stacy. I'm a bit worried, when you get in, please call me back! My mobile is 555-5750. Bye!”
Beep!

“Hi, Stacy again! Where are you? Call me! Anytime, day or night!”

Beep! Click!

I headed back to the bedroom and found my watch in my bed; it had slipped off my arm while I was sleeping. The watch looked huge in my hand! Its dial read 6 am. I grabbed the phone off the nightstand and dialed Stacy's number. She answered on the first ring and I said, “Hi Stacy!”

My voice sounded strange to me, much too high and Stacy might not even recognize me.

Sure enough, I heard “Who's there?”

I said, “Stacy, it's me!” Of course I didn't realize that she wouldn't be able to make anything of that. “I changed! My body changed! You wouldn't recognize me now, I look like a woman!”

“You sound like a woman. Who are you? Are you winding me up?”

“No, Stacy! Check your caller ID,” I said.

“What? Ron? How?”

“Yeah, or what's left of him”, I answered. “I'm a mess! I look like a young woman. I don't know how that can happen! I just slept and woke up like that!”

“Sit tight! I'm coming over. Don't panic! Ok,”, she said, sounding like she was about to panic herself.

“Yes,” I said, “and thank you. See you soon!”

“Bye”

Click.
 
 
Three

I went to the kitchen to root for some food, I was feeling like I hadn't eaten in days. I grabbed some bread and bologna and made up some quick sandwiches. I found a can of coke in the fridge and greedily ate all of it, washing it down with the coke.

I sat back and took stock. One, I was changing. Two, I was changing into a woman, or at least changing to look like one. Three, I was getting younger. That doesn't fit in with what I know about the world, it's wrong on so many levels. Aging is a one way street and people don't change sex!

Well, ok, not spontaneously, anyway. I was starting to feel tired and hoped Stacy would already be here, because it had become hard to keep my eyes open.

Just when I was thinking about simply going to bed, the doorbell rang and I looked through the peephole and saw Stacy. I quickly opened the door and closed it again after she stepped inside. I turned to see Stacy stand there, staring at me.

“Ron....”, she said, “I can't believe that's you! What happened?”

“I don't know”, I said, “I haven't got a clue. And I am so tired.... just so tired, as if I hadn't slept in days!”

“Lay down,” she said, “I'll stay here, it's Saturday and I don't have to work. Sleep, and when you wake up, we'll see what we can do.”

I dragged myself back into the bedroom, fell into my bed and barely managed to slip under the covers before dreamless sleep took me.

When I woke up, the room was bathed in sunlight. I looked at my alarm clock and saw that it showed 3pm. My eyes moved over to the side of the bed, and I saw Stacy in the chair, reading something. I stirred, and she looked up.

“Stacy,” I said, and realized that my voice had changed again. My hands went under the covers, into my shorts — I screamed! “It's gone,” I cried and started sobbing.

I felt Stacy by my side, she was holding on to me, whispering things I didn't understand. Inside, my world was coming apart at the seams, if I wasn't myself anymore, who was I? What was I? Why?

An eternity later, I realized that I lay curled up on my bed with my head cradled in Stacy's lap. She was softly stroking my head and saying that things would be alright. I wished I could believe it, but it did feel good.

I stirred, and she looked at me. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and felt it cascade down my back. Huh?? When I went to sleep, it was shoulder length! Whoa! Now, I had panicked, I had cried, and I had calmed down again, I was able to think. I said “Stacy.... I think I'm a woman now. I don't know why or how... but I have to get up. I need to know!”

She let go of me and I got up from the bed and went to the closet. The closed had a full length mirror on the inside of the door. Not something I normally used, but this would be better than the one in the bathroom. I opened the door and stood in front of the mirror.

I saw a pretty young woman, around 20 years old. I had changed again while I slept; my face had lost the remaining masculine traces and was now soft and feminine, with a pert, slightly upturned nose, large blue eyes and a full mouth. My hair was now honey blonde and fell in soft waves halfway down my back. I was wearing a pair of men's boxers that hung low on my hips and a far too big t-shirt that covered what seemed to be fair-sized breasts.

Stacy sat on the bed and stared at me, her mouth hanging slightly open.
 
 
Four

I looked at Stacy and said “Would you mind if I undressed?”

She answered “I don't mind at all, if you're comfortable with it, then I am, too.”

I thought for a moment and decided that I would just do it. I awkwardly pulled the t-shirt up, got it stuck under my breasts and tried pulling my arms out of the sleeves.

Stacy smiled and said “That's not how you get out of a t-shirt. Not with that body, anyway.” She was wearing a layered look, a short sleeve top with a scoop neckline over a long sleeved one with a higher neckline, so she crossed her arms, took hold of the bottom of the upper top, and pulled it up and over her head in one smooth motion. “That's how we do it”, she said, “try it!”

I wrestled my arms back into the sleeves, and grabbed the bottom of the t-shirt with my crossed arms and tried to pull up. I stopped short of tying my arms in a knot, and threw a helpless look at Stacy, who visibly had difficulties not to burst out laughing.

Giggling, she said “Now, look again”, took hold of her other top the same way and slowly raised her arms, moving her right elbow out of the way to let the left slip past, and raised her arms over her head, dropping her top on the ground. She stood there, in her bra, looking at me with a smile on her lips and a challenge in her eyes, “Now you do it!”

I crossed my arms, pulled up and forward, brought them past each other and the t-shirt slipped upwards and off easily. I tossed my head to get my hair out of my face and, for the first time, looked at my new body. I was well proportioned, trim but feminine, with a small waist, high, medium-sized breasts and a flat tummy.

With a sigh, I pushed down on the waistband of my shorts, which slid down my slender legs and I stepped out of them. There was no doubt, none at all, that I was not male anymore. A dark blonde triangle pointed down towards a slit between my legs, showing clearly that I was now a woman. I started to run my hands over my body, then realized Stacy was there and stopped.

Stacy gave me a strange half smile, and I blushed and picked up my ill-fitting clothes. Blushing, I never used to do that! Funny, really, I mean, I was still myself, right? I had to turn the t-shirt right side out, I guess that's a side effect of this novel way of taking off one's shirt. When I mentioned it to Stacy, she just smiled and said that that doesn't really matter to women, because they usually don't put something worn on again.
“They”, I guess it was “we” now, really.

I really surprised myself with not cracking; I would have thought I'd react more strongly. I knew I was going to face some demons over this, and just hoping I could cope. I was not a depressive or suicidal person, but if I were, I'd probably be dead now. I'd be a dead woman. A dead young woman. A dead young, pretty woman who is a virgin. And has no papers. No records. Damn! That case I was looking into researching? I think I just cracked it wide open!

My mind went into overdrive. I would have to find out more. Find out if the dead women corresponded to male disappearances. And, where there were casualties, there had to be survivors. I knew what I had to do.

When I laid it out for Stacy, she agreed, it made a lot of sense. Something was turning men into attractive young women. But why? An old investigative reporter's strategy came to mind: “Follow the money”. Find out who profits from something, and you have the story. I needed to find out who this happened to, what they had in common, what made them turn into women, and why. And who gained from that.

I suppose, I had my job cut out for me.
 
 
Five

Stacy, of course, had to pop my bubble. “Ron”, she said, “you want to run off in all directions at once, but you can't even leave your house!”

“Why?”, I asked.

She answered, “You haven't got a thing to wear!”

Well, duh. It wasn't like I could wear what I used to have. Also, Stacy pointed out, my hair had no discernible cut or style, my nails were unkempt, and I knew nothing about the essentials of female behavior and dress. I was reminded of Ellen Barkin in “Switch,” where she, a good looking woman, moved and acted like a man. That was funny, yes. In a movie. But this was real life, and to top it all off, it was my life. I sure didn't want the stares, the embarrassment.

“Stacy,” I said, “I guess I need to enroll for Woman 101”.

She laughed and said “I guess you do. And I have a feeling I know who just got volunteered for teacher”.

She took a step towards me and hugged me. That really surprised me; she'd never done it quite like that before. I looked at her questioningly, and she said “It's a girl thing.”

We cracked up and it felt good to let out the tension. We wound up holding on to each other so we wouldn't fall, and the holding turned into a hug, then into an embrace, and suddenly Stacy kissed me! On my mouth! I was blown away; I was so surprised I kissed back before I knew what was happening. A few moments later, we broke the kiss and I gave Stacy a puzzled look.

She smiled and said “Remember I told you I don't swing that way? Well, I could sure swing your way the way you look now....”

End of part one

---

 
To Be Continued...
 

Edited by Kristine Roland

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.

Special thanks to Julie O., from whose concepts of magic I have borrowed a little. No Julieverse characters appear in this story.
 
 
Six

Stacy sat me down at the cabinet that was supposed to be a vanity, but that I had converted to a TV desk cum stereo system rack cum clothes storage to take a closer look at me. She ran her fingers through my hair, looked at the ends, looked at my face this way and that and pulled a face.

She said, “You, girl, need The Works!”

“Uh-oh”, I thought, worried what that would mean for me now.

She spotted the tape measure that I had used to take the measurements of myself when this all started and measured under my breasts, across them, around my waist and around my hips. She noted these measurements down and tossed a few figures down.

She said, “You're a 34B or C, you would probably wear a size 6. Shoes, I can only guess, but probably a size 8. Those are not really close to my sizes, so I guess you stay put and I'll pick up some versatile items, a couple of tops, some jeans, a bra, panties and hose. Maybe a pair of flats from a store where I can exchange them.”

I just sat there and looked at her, dumbstruck. She grinned, blew me a kiss and said “Don't do anything I wouldn't do”, winked at me and walked out the door.

The latch clilcked home and I was alone.

Panties! Not really what I'd imagined I'd ever wear. I wasn't a man's man, but I was a man, dammit. Now I'd be wearing panties! Life's not fair! “Well, come to that, at least I'm not some cross-dressing weirdo,” I thought, “at least I have the equipment that is supposed to be in them!” I found I was able to console myself with that thought and I felt a little better. I went into the living room, which doubled as a study, and flicked the switch on my computer. Time to do some research. With all of this, I might be able to take my mind off it by trying to find more news on the dead girls, and to look for the kind of information that, if they were the result of the same kind of transformation, had to be there, somewhere.

I pulled up my email and fired off some messages to friends and acquaintances in law enforcement, forensics and hospitals, asking them for information about young girl suicides, missing young men, or women who seemed to suffer from delusions. Then I settled into the grind of mining the web for the same type of data.
 
 
Seven

What a strange world we live in. There were people who would actually hope and pray for something like this to happen to them. Entire sites devoted to them. Unbelievable, really. Sure, I knew that there were men who want to be women, I watched TV, too. But this subculture of gender variant people was quite something!

My web search had come with a few more dead girls, in notices from newspapers around the country. Nothing that would make it a pattern to anyone not looking for it, but discernible for someone who did. I had taken the atlas I used before Google maps had made it obsolete and made a red dot for every suicide that fit the pattern perfectly, and blue dots for those that might, but I either had too little information, or they had a detail that made them different. I had scanned the page, printed a copy and connected the dots by a line, according to their order. Yes, Ron strikes again! This gave a strong indication that it was caused by a single, moving agent, not something as random as a disease!

A single agent. Agent. Damn! Yes, and it must have been that mystery woman! But, why say sorry? She's obviously done this before, if the 38 suicides I had found are any indication, there must be more than 100 men that had been transformed. She could just stop, if she felt it was wrong! Could she, though? Not like I know that, really. What a mess I got myself into here!
 
 
Eight

The doorbell rang, and a quick look through the peephole told me it was Stacy. I opened the door for her and she came in, laden with bags and boxes.

“Damn,” I said, “did you have to buy half the town?”

“No, I just got you some essentials,” she said.

If that was essentials, I mused, what was going full bore? I suppose my days of needing a pair of boxers, a t-shirt, jeans and socks are over! Not that I cared at the moment, I was sort of numb and not reacting to this girl thing at all, heaven knows why! If the others were any indication, I should probably be slitting my wrists or jumping off a bridge by now!

Stacy went to the bed, pulled up the covers and straightened them with one practiced shake, not something I usually did at all! Making a bed, what for? You only muss it again the next night, anyway! She proceeded to dump out some bags' contents and quickly grabbed a few items.

“Here”, she said, “you need to come out of those boxers,” and handed me a three-pack of cotton panties.

Assorted cotton panties, white, powder blue, and rose. I opened the package and took the white ones, dropped the too large boxers and put on the panties. There, I'd done it. And, actually, they weren't uncomfortable at all! The panties hugged my hips and butt and fit my new, flat front perfectly. Next, Stacy handed me a bra, also white, with smooth cups and what felt like a thin padding.

“That's called a t-shirt bra, because it's so smooth, you don't see it under one.”

I turned the bra around in my hands and looked at the fasteners and straps. I only had experience taking those off, and not off myself, either!

Stacy grinned and said, “Here, hold it with the cups right way, and bring it around behind your back. Hook it in the front, over your tummy, spin it around and slip the arms through the straps,” she said, while helping me along and fussing over the adjustments on the straps, which were way too tight.

Finally, she reached into the bra and lifted each breast slightly to let it settle into its cup. Damn! That felt good, her hands on my breasts. Damn! I shouldn't have breasts! But, still felt nice.

Now I realized how the weight of these protuberances had been pulling my skin, that pull was now gone. That's pretty comfortable actually; I was beginning to understand why women wear these things. I looked at the mirror on the still opened door and I saw a pretty young woman in her underwear. Pretty in a girl-next-door way, with long straight hair and no makeup on. Stacy thrust something at me, a yellow thing like a t-shirt, but with short sleevelets and a much lower neckline.

She saw my look and said “Those are called 'cap sleeves'”, she said, “one thing about being a woman is that you have so many more styles to choose from, and you will need to learn them, over time.”

I pulled the top on and found that the neckline wasn't even cut low at all, it barely showed anything. The opening just looked large, considering what I was used to, but it was actually cut rather modestly. Stacy pushed a pair of blue denim jeans my way, and I grabbed them and stepped into them.

Pulling up the jeans turned into a bit of a problem, they were much tighter than anything I had ever worn before. I had to wiggle my butt and pull up on each side in turn to get them up over my hips, then I couldn't pull them any further. They rode really low on my hips, while I was used to a much higher cut.

“Stacy,” I said, “did you really have to get a style like this? I feel naked!”

“You should feel pretty," she said, "you really have a figure and you shouldn't hide it. Besides, all the styles that are right for your age ride low these days; you'd be hard put to find ones that don't!”

Well, I guess she's right, I remembered seeing them on all the pretty young things!

Stacy handed me a pack of in-shoe sox, they were smooth white cotton weave, very thin, with a little “pom” at the top. I looked at them with a pained expression and said “Stacy! That's so girly! Why'd you get those?”

Stacy gave me a grin and said “You are a girl! So girly should fit you! Seriously”, she went on, “that's the least girly ones they had at that place. I'd hate to cut them off, they're cute and I'd worry about the sox unraveling if we do.”

I sighed, “Ok, I guess I can live with them” and pulled them on.

Finally, she got a box from Lady Foot Locker, and pulled out a girly pair of trainers with light yellow and light pink trim on them.

“Stacy”, I said, with a pained expression, “are you serious?”

She looked at me and said “Yes, serious as a heart attack. Listen, I really toned this down but I'm not going to hunt around town to find something that just doesn't exist! Girls trainers have trim, colors, and they're mostly pastels. You can't use the range of colors that were acceptable for a man before, it's different for girls!”

I took the shoes and slipped into them. I said “Stacy, you're spot on on the size, they're a perfect fit!”

She smiled and gave me a happy hug.

“Ok, she said, let's get that hair of yours seen to!”

I froze up. I simply couldn't move. “Go outside,” I asked? Fear descended over me like a blanket, blotting out all the light and joy in the world. I gave her that “Deer in the headlights” look, and tried to stand up. The room started spinning around me and I fell to the bed. Blackness descended over me as I passed out.

End of part two

---

 
To Be Continued...
 

Edited by Kristine Roland

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.

Special thanks to Julie O., from whose concepts of magic I have borrowed a little. No Julieverse characters appear in this story.
 
 
Nine

Someone was shaking me.

“Ron”, I heard, “wake up.”

I drifted in the space between sleep and waking, recapping the weird dream I had been having. Of turning into a woman. Kissing Stacy. Wearing panties. I smiled as the world drifted into focus. The afternoon son was shining into my bedroom window, and Stacy was here — Stacy was here? My eyes flew open and I looked at myself. It was no dream then, I was this woman! Memory returned, the last thing I remembered was Stacy wanting me to go outside. The thought terrified me, I thought people have to see what I am, what I'm not. People can't see me like that, I couldn't let them. They'd see right through me, I know they would! Faggot, they'd say, sissy faggot.

“Stacy”, I said, “this will never work!”

“Ron, what are you talking about,”, asked Stacy.

“This”, I said, pointing at myself, “I can't pull it off. People will know!”

“Now, how could they? Face it, your own mother wouldn't... uh-oh. Sorry, didn't want to bring this up.”

We were silent for a moment, then she started in again. “You know, you need a name.”

“I have a perfectly good one. It's even still under warranty,” I quipped. “But, I see what you're saying. I can hardly be 'Ron', looking like this. Ronnie... that would mean Veronica. I'm Veronica and this is my secret,” I had to giggle — since when did I giggle?

Stacy giggled with me and hugged me briefly. “Ok, Veronica, or Ronnie, is who you are now. And don't worry, no one can tell. Not from how you look. But from how you act, if you don't look out!” She continued, “And, young lady, we do have to go out now. I'm no stylist, I can't do your hair and it sure can't stay like this. That look has been gone since the seventies!”

I knew she was right, but I didn't know if I could face the world right now. I knew, without her and her acceptance of what had happened as fact, I wouldn't be where I am now. Not that I was anywhere, really. No ID. No history. No Job. No Money. No bank account. Well, I had my “Ron” account, with an ATM card and 2 credit cards. Which I couldn't really use face to face in a store now.

“Where are we going?”

“To see a stylist friend of mine at her shop,” I relaxed a little. A friend, at least it wasn't a total stranger. Well, not to me, anyway. We went downstairs and to Stacy's car. I got in the passenger seat and Stacy started driving south. After about 5 miles, she turned right and pulled over. This seemed to be an artsy neighborhood, somewhat bohemian but nice. We got out of the car and walked to the little hair salon sandwiched in between a laundromat and a small grocery store.

“Hi Debs,” called Stacy, “got you a new customer!”

Debs, that must have been that mop of red hair that was attacked to the petite bundle of energy that was whizzing in and out between the stylists positions, pushing a broom around to clear the floor of hair cuttings.

“Hi Stacy, good to see you!” She sang out, “Just set her down anywhere, I'm alone for the rest of the day, any spot will do!”

Stacy pointed towards the nearest chair and I sat down. I looked at the array of bottles and tubes that were neatly lined up on the shelves next to the large mirror, the hair drier in its holster on the wall, stacks and towels and a stack of magazines. Debbie joined Stacy and me and took a look at me, immediately noticing the state my hair was in. She ran her fingers through my hair, looked at the ends and the shape, or lack of it, in my hairdo, and stated “There is a story here, isn't there, Stacy?”
 
 
Ten
 
To her credit, Stacy didn't even try to lie. “Yes, but how?”

“This woman has hair halfway down her back. It takes 3 to 5 years to grow hair that long. There is no cut or style at all, and the hair is silky smooth, it's never been dyed, curled, permed, probably never even blow dried! She has hair like a girl of 11, or as if it had all grown overnight!”

“You're closer than you think. Sit down; you're not going to believe this!” Stacy said.

Debbie took a look around, got up and locked the shop door, flipping the sign to read “Closed”. She sat down at the station next to me and said “Spill!”

Stacy looked at me, then at Debbie. “OK, here goes. Pretty Veronica here was Ron, a 40 year old reporter, until 2 days ago. He has been changing, mostly in his sleep, and while I was watching, into this. This is as complete a change as you can imagine, there is nothing left of the old him. I have no idea how it happened, why it happened, or if it can be reversed.” She stopped to take a deep breath “I have been right there with her, she's cracked twice and I think if I hadn't been around she might be a statistic now.”

Debbie looked at me, her green eyes swept over my body from head to toe. I felt what I could describe as a not unpleasant tingle as she moved close to me. Debbie took hold of a stone pendant that was fixed to a string around her neck and stepped back.

She said, “I have a confession to make. I never told you because there was no need, but with this, I'm over my head. I'm a sorceress. Not a great one, I dabble. My family is Irish, and there was some Druidic or Celtic blood somewhere in our past. I have some powers, not to a great degree, but with amulets and bought spells, I can make some things happen. Like making customers notice my shop.”

She smiled and continued “I believe you. Every word of it. Veronica has been touched by very powerful magic and magic that has been crafted to be irreversible. At least not without killing the subject. Normally, this kind of protection is used on revenge or punishment spells, and some of those are pretty bad.”

She looked at our stunned faces and said, “This one seems to be rather tame, compared to some I have heard of. Some are quite nasty, evil things. She seems to just have had a transformation, with a few guards to make sure it stays on. She'll manage just fine, I'd say, if she can cope emotionally she's not in any magical danger. But, I'm going to have to report this.”

“Report,”, Stacy asked. “To whom?”

“The magical authorities”, Debbie replied.

“There is an entire system of investigators, courts and police to deal with misuse of magic. The magic part of the population has to protect itself against exposure to the nonmagical part, also, abuse of magic to control or hurt nonmagical humans and the use of banned spells can hurt us all. They may choose to contact you, or they may not.”

I was glad I hadn't brought up the other cases, I didn't want this taken out of my hands and if they knew the scale of it, that is what they would probably do.

“So, what was that tingle I felt when you came near me with your amulet?” I asked.

Debbie gasped and said “You felt that?! You're not supposed to be able, you're not magical! I can't feel you, you have no aura. Those of us with powers feel when others are near. I can't feel yours, so you can't have any.”

Debbie went to a small cabinet and unlocked it, and pulled out amulet made from filigree copper wires and amber and red stones. She came over and dangled the amulet near my body. After a few seconds, a couple of the amber stones began to glow, and one of the red ones also showed some lights. I looked at the amulet, and my mind seemed to be drawn in, I felt myself falling into it as my head came forward.

I didn't see it, but the amber stones had all lit up, and sparkles were dancing within the red ones while the entire amulet had begun to spin slowly. Debbie and Stacy looked on, fascinated, until I slumped down in the chair and passed out. The sparkles faded and the glow dimmed, as Debbie recovered and swiftly moved the amulet away.

“Damn!” she said, “I have never, ever seen a reaction this strong. I don't know what it means. I will need to make a call.”

She went to the back of the store and I heard her talking to someone, animatedly, then getting into what sounded like a heated argument.

“Yes, I told you.... NO I'm not mistaken, I'm not...............Dammit, NO. I'm not drunk, either. It's for real....... Yes, good, we'll wait”

She slammed down the handset and returned to the front of the shop. “Dammit, stupid boneheads. Thinking I'm seeing things, they are”, she muttered.

“Well, she said, I've been told to wait for someone who can look at this. I suggest that we do something about that hair while we wait, it'll be about 2 hours.”

Debbie took me by the hand and led me across the room to the basins, where she proceeded to wash and rinse my hair. She used at least 4 different bottles on my hair. When I was male, all I ever needed was one bottle of shampoo; things did seem to be much more complicated for women, even here.

Debbie wrapped a towel around my head and motioned me to follow her back to the stylist's station. Unwrapping my hair, she proceeded to brush it out and got out a pair of small scissors.

She said “I'm going to preserve as much of the length as I can. I'm going to layer it a tiny bit, trim the ends, shape it to a point in the back, trim back the sides a bit and add bangs. Then I'm going to add a soft wave to give it body and lift.”

Stacy said. “Sounds good to me.”

“Ok, I guess”, was my opinion.

Debbie set to work, trimming here, cutting there and combing my hair this way or that. At one point, she combed a lot of it, or so it seemed, forward over my face, then cut most of that off. She used some very large rollers and her blow drier to dry my hair and shaped the bangs over a round brush. Then, she fluffed my hair out and teased the bangs up, sprayed something into them and pronounced me done. I looked and I found my image vastly improved. Where there was the straight, shapeless hair of a hippie, I now saw a wavy mane of hair and curly bangs framing my face. Actually, I looked like a girl I would have tried to chat up, and that scared me. It scared me because I suddenly realized that there are many other guys out there who would chat ME up now. I didn't really fancy the idea of that!

Debbie offered coffee and cookies and we sat down at the table in her waiting area to talk. She told us a bit about the powers, and those who held them. Apparently, the bloodlines that held the power originated with the Celts and Druids and powers appeared in the females of some families descended from those bloodlines. Powers were usually dormant in males, if they did have the ability to use them it was usually very low level, or through the use of magical devices, charms, amulets, or magical symbols. The amulet she had used on me was a magic detector, which stones glowed, and how many, was indicative of the amount of power a person had, and the kind of power. The red stones only rarely show activity on people who had no magical training at all, which is why Debbie had been so shocked to see all of them become active when I concentrated on the amulet.

At this point, there was a knock on the door and Debbie went to look, and returned with another woman who also exhibited the same red hair and green eyes. She introduced her as Alyssa, and her profession as that of a magic “doctor”.

Alyssa was a pleasant woman who appeared to be about 28 years old, but radiated a wisdom and serenity that belied that. She had brought a folding masseur's table, which she set up with practiced ease and asked me to undress and lie down on it. My concerns about the undressing created some smiles, and I was told that I had nothing the others didn't have as well. I undressed and laid down on the table, and Alyssa began to pass crystals and amulets across my body, occasionally muttering phrases I couldn't understand.

Some of the amulets did nothing, some tingled or glowed, and at one point, one of her incantations made a floating symbol appear above my tummy, which faded again, quickly. During this time, she gave no explanations; nothing was said but her incantations as she worked. After what seemed like hours, but was really only 20 minutes, she was done and asked me to get up and get dressed. I still needed help with the bra, a fact not lost on Debbie and Alyssa.
 
 
Eleven
 
The four of us sat down at the table again, where Alyssa sketched out her findings for us.

“Ronni, you were very, very lucky. Whether you were lucky to have been transformed is another question, but it seems that in your case, a very fortuitous set of circumstances combined to make you what you are now.”

She shifted in her chair, her gaze seeming to become more intense, as she said “You come from one of the families of power. The males in your line have no power whatsoever, the females would hold great power, but they have renounced it a long time back and it has fallen into disuse and been forgotten.”

She continued, “Most of the females in your families were likely artists, and some may have been uncannily successful in what they did, no matter in what field. Powers, even if not used, make you a bit more lucky than most. You were hit by a very nasty revenge spell. It's a spell that was crafted from a number of ancient spells, spells so near perfect that they have been used over and over again. The one that transformed you into a woman is such a spell, also the framework of the revenge spell as such. I am positive the transformation spell cannot be reversed. The spell itself is perfect, it has no flaws to hook into to tear it apart, and the revenge spell protecting it has never been broken, not in millenia of trying.”

“The other rider of the spell is one to make you very submissive and easily controlled. That spell is a newer one and not very strong. It only works on nonmagical people, it doesn't work on people with powers. It tends to dampen down hope and lowers your emotional barriers as well.”

“When you were transformed to a female, your powers took hold and that spell lost its force. It has had only a very slight effect, that is getting ever weaker, and that has given you the ability to cope well with what happened, by taking the edge off your emotions.”

“It will continue to do so for a while longer.” She sighed and went on

“There is one more rider, a real piece of work. It hooks into the revenge aspect of the spell and builds on the emotional effect of the one that you defeated. It will leave you with an absolute revulsion to sexual contact with men, and also with an extremely heightened sex drive. You would be in a position where you crave a man in your bed, but can't stand the thought of it. It would make you physically sick. Together with the hopelessness induced by the first rider spell, you would probably kill yourself. If you didn't, you would soon wind up a sex worker, and hate every minute of it.”

“You were saved from that fate by your latent powers”, Alyssa said. She went on “Needless to say, all four of these spells are highly illegal and the revenge spell is a controlled spell, even knowing how to cast it is a criminal offense. Rest assured we will investigate this.”

“Now, you have gained powers, and, through the lock-in effect of the revenge spell, they were boosted to a point where they cannot be left dormant.”

Alyssa smiled and said “You will need to receive magical training. You may choose to live without powers, but even then you will need to learn how to suppress them. Or you can embrace them, but be warned, it is not an easy life. You have some time to choose, in the meantime, you need to avoid strong emotions...”

“And you need to avoid sleeping with a man!”

Alyssa paused and I thought “As if I wanted to!”, but I didn't say it out loud because I wouldn't want to break the mood with a comment like this. So I was under a curse, and I had been turned into a sorceress! Whoever said life could be boring?

End of part three

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To Be Continued...
 

Edited by Kristine Roland

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Twelve

Alyssa looked at me and said, “Now, I will need to ask you some questions. Essentially, you have to agree to what I need to do. You don't know anything about these things, but I didn't make the rules. You're one of us and the spells I need to use on you are spells that can't be used on one of us without permission.”

She paused for a moment and I nodded my head. She continued. “I would like to block off a certain path in your mind. This is a temporary block you yourself can remove, once you learn how. It blocks your subconscious from accessing your powers. This is very important, because we need to protect you and everyone around you from wild magic. That is, from you casting spells while you dream. That could be very dangerous and we all have such a block in place. You can't place your own, so I have to do it. Do you consent to this?”

Images flashed through my head, images of what could happen if I was really as powerful as they said, and having a nightmare. Not really a choice, so I said “Yes, I consent.”

Alyssa brought out a glowing green gem, which she placed against my forehead and murmured a few words in a language I almost understood. The light in the gem flared once and died. She put the gem into my hand and said “Keep this safe. If it is destroyed, the block will be released and you will become a danger to yourself and others.”

I looked at the gem in awe, then pushed it into one of the ridiculously small pockets of my jeans, which earned me a disapproving look from the women. But, what could I do, they didn't get me a handbag yet.

Alyssa went on to say “Now, that is done and I feel a lot better about this. Next, I would like to put a tracer on you. Basically, that is a spell that would alert us and let one of us find you if you experience distress. I understand that you may not want to be found, but with your powers untrained, you could get into situations where you really need help. It's your choice, but I would really recommend that you allow this.”

I considered my options carefully. I sure didn't want to get into some mess, but I did want to continue to investigate without them getting onto me and taking it out of my hands. I asked, “Is this like a spy, so you can see where I am at all times?”

“No,” she said, “it's more an alarm system, it triggers when you are in distress.”

“Then I will agree to it,” I said.

Alyssa pulled a black object out of a pouch. I tried to look at it, but in some strange way it seemed to twist away from my very glance, like turning in directions nothing should be able to turn in. Alyssa placed the object in my hand and closed my fingers over it. It seemed to melt into my body and was gone.

She said, “There, it's done. Now, mind you, this will only work one time. If it triggers, you will know, and if you still need protection, we would need to give you a new one.”

“I have a question,” I said, “why should I avoid strong emotions, and why should I not have sex with men?”

She nodded to herself and said “Not having sex with men is simple. If you had sex with a man, the dormant second rider spell would trigger and you would fall into the life that was planned for you. We can't remove that spell here that is for a larger group to do, it's not really easy, even though it was not cast by a competent sorceress. To avoid that danger, you need to stay away from sexual relations that could trigger it.”

“As for the strong emotions, let's just say, if you were to get angry, for instance — well, it could become quite messy.”

I didn't really need a more detailed explanation.

Then I remembered something else. “One more thing, I don't have any paperwork, I can't use my credit cards, I have no driver's license and not much money. I'm probably asking too much, but is there anything you could do for me to help me manage these things?”

“Let me think,” she said, “it's not that easy. Later, we can shift your reality to fit your body, but for the moment, that can't be done. First we need to find the one who did this to you, and if we caused a shift in your life now, we might eliminate evidence we need. So, magical help is out.”

My face fell as I considered my options for living this way, as she continued. “We do have a fund for the victims of abuse of magic. So while we can't fix your life right now, we can at least help you not to lose what little you have left of it. We also have lawyers who will help you establish yourself as transgendered, effect a legal name change and get a driver's license in your new name and with your new picture.”

“I really appreciate that. It will help me a lot,” I said. Thinking to myself, “Great! So I'll be known as a sex change. Oh joy.”

Well, ok, it beat the crap out of the alternative!

We exchanged numbers and I was promised that someone would be in touch shortly. Alyssa folded up her table and smiled at me. “Bye for now. Just try to manage for a little while. We will help you.”

She waved, said her goodbyes with Debbie and Stacy, and was gone. Since it was already late, we made our way back to my place. Stacy called into work and left a message on the voice mail, claiming sickness. I slipped out of my clothes and made to get into bed when Stacy looked at me and asked “Could you let me have some blankets so I can make myself a bed on the couch?”

I answered “Sure, they're down here in the closet, help yourself.”

Stacy found the blankets and went off into the living room, and I slipped under the covers and turned off the lights.

Thirteen

I woke up to noises coming from the kitchen and the smell of breakfast cooking. The clock said 9am and I remembered the events of the previous day.

At least I had slept well; I couldn't remember any dreams at all. Maybe that was a side effect of the spell I had allowed to be placed on me. What a weekend of revelations. I found out magic exists, and that I have the ability to learn it. Really the duty to learn it. Oh wow.

I got out of bed, momentarily disoriented by the strange sensations coming from my body until I readjusted to being female and shorter. I got up and headed to the bathroom, did the morning's business, washed my face and ran a brush through my hair. Ouch! Tangles!

Leaving the hair for later, I found the bra I had dropped on the floor and put it on, backwards, spun it around and had an awkward moment sorting out the straps. Then, comfortably settled into the cups, I grabbed the panties I had dropped and tossed them into the laundry pile in the corner. Yea. So I was a slob. Or something. I didn't own a laundry basket, anyway.

Suddenly I remembered, there was nothing in that pile I would need again. I pulled the panties off the pile, and tossed them into the opposite corner to start a new “Ronni” pile. A moment of digging in yesterday's shopping bags produced the rest of the three pack of panties and I pulled out the light blue ones and put them on. I left the rose ones for last; I didn't quite feel up to that yet.

I found yesterday's jeans and top, put them on and opened the bedroom door.

“Good Morning, Stacy,” I called out.

“Good Morning,” came back from the kitchen carried on the delicious smell of frying bacon. I went into the kitchen, where Stacy was just about done with cooking, so I set the table while she finished up.

Stacy looked around and said “Oh my god, what did you do to your hair?”

I suddenly remembered I never got that finished.

Stacy went on “You can't be serious about wearing the same top two days in a row, and we need to get you all brushed out and styled.”

“Ok," I said, "but breakfast first.”

“You'll never change!”

She carried the frying pan over to the table and deposited the strips of bacon and the eggs on our plates while I got coffee from the machine and orange juice from the fridge. We sat down and attacked the food, and nothing more was said for the moment.

Fourteen

After breakfast, Stacy took me to the bedroom and gave me a lesson in brushing out long hair. “Start about 10” from the ends, on the inside, and brush downwards. If there are any tangles, work them out carefully. Don't yank, you'll hurt yourself and you'll lose hair you want to keep. Then, do it again from the scalp down. Once you can get through the hair on the inside, switch to the outside and get the rest of the tangles out.”

I did as I was told and I was soon looking almost right again. Stacy went on, “Now brush your bangs out, there was hairspray in it, make sure you get as much of it out as you can. If you let it build up, it gets really messy. Now, tease the bangs up a bit, so they look more alive.”

I tried following her advice, but the bangs kept falling flat down my forehead and that didn't really look good.

Stacy asked “Do you have a hair dryer? And a round brush?”

I told her where to find my hair drier, but I didn't own a round brush.

Stacy took the hair drier and my regular hairbrush rolled my bangs around the handle and gave them a good blast with the drier set to max. Then, she switched the drier to cold air and cooled the hair back down while it was still rolled up. She pulled out the brush and teased the hair apart. It looked better, but still not right.

Stacy went for her handbag and got out a miniature can of hairspray, misted over the bangs and immediately used the hairdryer on the sprayed hair. Teasing the bangs into shape proved much easier now, and she fixed things in place with another long spray from her little can.

“Oh my god, this is rocket science,” I moaned.

“No it's not, but I agree, getting your hair done is one of the more time consuming tasks in a woman's morning routine.”

“I could just have it cut short,” I said.

Stacy gave me shocked look and said “Oh no! You have such beautiful hair and it goes so well with your face. You're tall, too, and long hair looks good on a tall woman. You really should give it a try for a few weeks, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it.”

“I guess,” I said. I didn't have much of an opinion on most of this woman stuff anyway. Actually, with all that happened to me in the space of the past three days, doing my hair pretty much took last place in my thoughts.

Stacy dug out another bag from the shopping trip and pulled out another top. This one had normal short sleeves, and a much higher neckline, but it was made to look like it was 2 pieces, with a slit in between them, right above my breasts.

I pulled off the top I was wearing, finding that I had much less of a problem with this crossing my arms trick, and put on the new one.

“Turn around,” said Stacy, and she lifted my hair and tore off the tags I had forgotten to remove before I put it on.

I gave her a sheepish look and she laughed. “I do it all the time,” She said.

This black top looked good with my jeans, but the yellow and pink trimmed trainers just wouldn't do. Said Stacy. Not that I would have known. She pulled up another bag and got out what looked like a pair of pumps, but without any heel.

“Here, try these flats,” she said.

I slipped into them, barefoot, and said, “They feel a little tight.”

“Yes, they would,” she said, “they're new and you're in them barefoot. Get out of those shoes and jeans; I have some knee-highs you can wear.”

She proceeded to dig into the bags and produced a little packet, not unlike the ones I knew from pantyhose, but smaller. She tossed it at me and I deftly caught it in midair, tore it open and removed what looked like long socks made from pantyhose material.

I started to pull them on, but Stacy stopped me. “No, Ronnie, not like that, you'll rip them! Watch.”

She pushed both her thumbs inside and used her fingers on the outside to gather them up into a ring of fabric, with the toe bit right by her thumbs. I looked at the other one, and then did the same with mine.

I carefully pushed my foot into it and, letting go of the material as I went, smoothed it up my legs. A wide band of elastic settled right below my knee. Stacy handed me the other one, and I managed to take it from her without letting go of the material and I pulled it up my other leg.

It felt a bit strange at the toes, tighter than any socks I had ever worn, but not really constricting. I pulled on my jeans and slipped into the shoes, which fit much better now.

“One warning,” said Stacy, “when you wear hose, don't walk around without shoes. You'll ladder them very quickly if you do. That can get expensive; one pair is usually good for a few days with a skirt and another few days under jeans. Knee-highs can be washed a few times, too”

Skirts. I hadn't even though about them. I really didn't have any intention of wearing one. I didn't see a reason why I should. I put that thought aside for now.

Fifteen

I walked over to my study corner, pushed the button on my PC and watched it spring to life with the usual beeps, whirring sounds and clicks. The box booted up to the desktop and I clicked open Thunderbird, my email program.

I had 59 new messages, it said. Probably mostly spam. I hadn't really been taking care of things and it tended to build up. I quickly scanned down the list, marking as I went. Viagra, cheap watches, bank accounts and work from home offers were all consigned to the little flame that one marked junk mail with, and swiftly deleted. I was left with 12 real messages, which was quite a lot for my normal Mondays.

One that jumped out at me was from PayPal, I had received a payment of $4000 from the Celtic Conservation and Study Society. Great, that meant I wouldn't need to worry about living for a while. I logged into PayPal and started a transfer to my bank account.

There was an email from Alyssa, which I opened.

Dear Ronnie,

It was a pleasure meeting you and I would like to extend the Family's warmest welcome to you at this time. We have spoken about you at length and, since your family has renounced magic and you have no magical relatives, we have decided to “adopt” you into ours. This will give you a support network for those things that you can't speak to nonmagical people about.

We have tapped into the victims' fund and I have PayPal-ed some money to you to help you get your feet on the ground.

You should have an email from our lawyer, who will see you today or tomorrow to get your documentation changes underway.

You will also receive an invitation to our next Family meeting. We would be delighted to see you there.

Best wishes,

Alyssa

Reading it, I noticed the spelling of “Family.” So, that must mean the magical family, maybe a sort of clan, I suppose, I was sure it would all come clear in due time.

I did appreciate getting the monetary help this quickly, I had rent coming due and this took one big worry off my mind.

I remembered that I also wouldn't have to worry about having a 40th birthday party. Not for a long time, anyway.

I wouldn't say I was happy about being female, but a lot of the time I didn't even think about it. Right now it was hard not to, because the shoes, while a good fit, did pinch a little in places and I had to keep flexing my toes to make them feel better.

I skipped down the list of messages to another unknown name. Steven Warson. I clicked the message to open it and read.

Dear Veronica,

I am writing to you on behalf of the Celtic Conservation and Study Society. Alyssa has written to me and asked me to make time to see you about a name change. She also mentioned some other things, I won't go into the details in this email message.

Before you come in, please get a picture suitable for a driver's license taken.

Feel free to phone my office at 555-7755 at any time to make arrangements. I have provisionally kept a 3pm slot open for you, I would appreciate if you called to cancel in case you can't make it.

Best regards,

Steve

Wow. They sure wasted no time.

I read through the other messages. Some were from newspapers and magazines I had offered various articles to in the past and I put them aside for now.

Finally, I got to the more interesting ones.

Hi Ron,

strange you would contact me about those cases. We have 2 suicides that match the pattern you drew up. I checked on your suggestion and we tried the keys we found on these girls on the apartments of the men who had gone missing around that time. How did you know? We found two matching places.

I can't say much, since it's an ongoing investigation, but that sure puts a twist on what was already a weird case. If you got more hints to drop, please do. I got a commendation for finding the connection! I owe you a beer or two.

Cheers,

Matt

Great. That pretty much confirmed it. More transformations, but why? I'd needed to get the crime scene protocols and forensic results on those, if possible.

Hi buddy!

Long time no hear. Hey, you're nosing around in places that are clearly off limits! Well, they try to keep this stuff under wraps, anyway. Would you believe it, they're treating this like it's a homeland security matter. I got a bloody nose just asking. Then I got the third degree about who wanted to know.

I kept mum, though, yeah. I know you'll get me back for that, no sweat. Sorry I couldn't come up with anything. Shoot some pool, one of these days? Let me know.

Ken

“Whoa!” I thought, “Someone else must be on to the strangeness in this case. I sure hope he didn't get into trouble over this. Well, scratch one source. I wonder if he likes getting his ass whupped at the pool table by a girl.” That thought made me smile.

Hi Ron!

Great to hear from you again. Things aren't the same since you left.

Did you turn clairvoyant? I just got the police reports and there are 3 cases that fit the profile you sent. In total, we have 5 suicides, all without documents and no files on them. 3 fit the profile to a Tee the other two were apparently hookers.

Anyway, don't make yourself so scarce, I have a phone, you know? Call me!

Kisses,

Pam

I sighed when I finished that one. Pam had been a good friend even after the relationship had ended. She worked the news desk at a newspaper in LA, and we had a brief fling, maybe 3 months of whirlwind romance. Then I had to go away for a month and we drifted apart. We're still friends; we just never got together again. “Well, I can put paid to that now,” I thought.

So, the information Pam had volunteered meshed nicely with what I had heard from Alyssa. Apparently, in Los Angeles, two of the transformees had succumbed to the compulsion spell and become sex workers. Until they killed themselves. Which was probably because they couldn't stand doing it anymore.

What a fiendish spell. I'm was not a religious man, but it made me send a quick prayer of thanks to heaven, for having been spared that fate.

Sixteen

I sat down with Stacy and filled her in on the emails regarding the case and on the appointment I had at 3pm that day. Stacy immediately went into “planning mode”.

“You need makeup!”

“No! I don't want makeup! I'm not ready for that.”

“You can't have a picture taken without makeup. That's just not done!” Stacy said.

I did feel like I'd like to have more say about my life again, I guessed it was the failed spell's remaining emotional damping wearing off. But I realized that I would look suspicious if I wore no make up for a photo, I acquiesced. “Ok, we'll do makeup, then. Do you have any?”

“No, I couldn't really buy it without you there and you were in no shape.” She said. “They're having a Bobbi Brown promotion and they're doing free makeup demos, let's go there and have it done right. They will figure out all the best colors for you, and it'll be good fun, too.”

“Fun. As if.” I said.

“Don't be a wet blanket!” Stacy said. “Getting made up is good girl fun!”

“Now, what is so fun about someone putting paint on your face,” I asked?

“It's fun because you don't go alone. Actually,” she went to teacher mode, “normally I'd call some girl friends and we'd invade them en masse.” She looked at me. “But I don't think you're up to that just yet. It still makes you feel good to look good, and that is what make up is all about.”

She went on, “Sometimes, we use make up for a purpose. To get a job. To pull on a night out. To seduce a lover. To look better than another woman, particularly ones we don't like. But mostly, it's so we like who we see in the mirror.”

“I guess I have some more learning to do,” I said. “Because changing the way I looked had never been on my mind before. As a guy, you just take what you got. You decide whether you shave or wear a beard, and what hair style you wear, but, once that's decided, you stick with it for years. Why do you women put up with all this complexity?”

“WE women, remember. You've been assimilated!” She giggled. “It's us now. And why we put up with it? We're raised to it, I guess. I never really thought about it.”

“I never wanted to be assimilated. I didn't ask for this. Dammit! Why me!” I felt anger rising. “Damn fate, damn it to hell! I don't want to be a chick! I didn't ask for these!” I said while lifting my breasts and letting them drop. “I want my dick and balls back!” I yelled, my acceptance of my situation fading fast.

I started moving into the bedroom and I continued. “Why the fuck do I have to prance around in drag! I never wanted that, fuck, I never even tried my mother's clothes!” I yelled, really getting worked up now. “Take all this shit. Take it drag it and your ass out of here and leave me alone! I need to do something!”

I fumbled on the dresser for some scissors and grabbed a hank of hair to cut it off, screaming “Hair! All that messy hair. It's girl hair and I'm a guy! I'm a man, fuck it! I AM A MAN!”

A palpable wave of energy spread outward from me, Stacy, having followed me, was picked up from where she was standing by the bed and hurled against the wall, the bedroom door was slammed shut and the windows exploded outward in a shower of splinters, raining down into the courtyard. I stood there, mouth open, the scissors dangling from my hand, forgotten, as I surveyed the scene of destruction. Stacy lay crumpled against the wall, covered in blankets and shopping bags, the window was gone and the mirror was cracked, because the open closet door had slammed against the wall.

I dropped the scissors and ran across the room to Stacy and cradled her head in my arms. She stirred and started to come around. “What happened?” she asked, looking at the devastated bedroom.

“Are you ok? I blew my top and this happened. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm so sorry... sorry...” I rocked back and forth, as tears came to my eyes and I broke down on the floor next to her, sobbing.

End of part four

---

 
To Be Continued...

Edited by Kristine Roland

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Seventeen
 
I slowly came back to my senses as the tears subsided and my sobs quieted down. I straightened up a bit and let go of Stacy, who also sat up.

She winced as she felt where she had hit the wall and brought her hand to her head. “My head hurts. What was that?”

I quipped “I didn't get the plate of the truck that hit us.” She made a pained expression and I realized that my attempt at levity had misfired. I said, “I guess I got mad.”

“They did say to avoid strong emotions, and that it could get messy. Seems this is what they were talking about.”

“No shit. I really need to learn to control that stuff.” I said. “I need to call Alyssa.”

I went for the phone and then got on the computer. I called up her email and dialed the number from her signature. After a couple of rings, I heard her voice “Hello?”

“Hi Alyssa, this is Veronica. I just sort of lost my cool. I hurt Stacy and blew out the window.”

“That's not good news,” she said, “I half expected it to happen, but not this soon. I would like to see you; we need to try to do something about these uncontrolled releases of power.”

“I have a 3pm with the lawyer,” I quickly checked the time, “and I don't think I have time before that. I need to get the window fixed or boarded up. Can we meet after?”

“Sure, I have all evening. Do you have a pen handy?”

“Yes, go ahead.” I said, taking a pen and pulling a sticky note off my block.

She gave me an address to go to and directions, and told me she would like to see me as soon as possible, preferably right after I saw the lawyer.

I checked the time again, 11am. Not much time for everything, considering that the window needed to be taken care of. I pulled up Google to find emergency window repair firms near here.

A couple of phone calls later I was assured someone was already dispatched and I would have the window fixed in no time flat.

Stacy chased me into the bathroom to wash my face, so I wouldn't look as if I had cried, and followed me to do the same. Fortunately, she didn't have any visible bruises.

“Can you describe what you did,” asked Stacy?

“I don't know,” I said, “it just happened. I got so mad at the universe for this epic joke played on me, and felt this hot ball of energy form inside of me and then it just blew up outward, I guess.”

“So it was your anger? Nothing else, not wanting to lash out?”

“At least not consciously,” I said.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door and Stacy went to open it. I felt very insecure, this is the very first time a man would see me since the transformation.

Two men entered and Stacy showed them through into the bedroom. One said, “Hi. I'm Steve from AAA Windows and Doors.”

I held out my hand and said, in a timid voice, “I'm Veronica, nice to meet you.” I motioned to the broken window and said, “This is the window we'd need closed.”

He took a look at the window, did a double take, and said “That's really unusual. We normally see damage like this after terrorist bombings or gas explosions. This room doesn't really look like either one happened here.”

I was at a loss at what to say to him, when Stacy came to the rescue, and in a somewhat bitchy manner, said, “I'm sure that won't keep you from fixing it and letting the cause be our worry?”

“Yes, certainly,” he said, visibly put out but not willing to let go of the job now. He motioned to his colleague and they proceeded to remove the two sliding frames from the rails and take them downstairs.

I went to the living room, which had a window facing the street, and looked down. They had come in a small truck, and were apparently carrying glass panes in various common sizes. They selected two that were slightly larger than the sliding frames, and, with practiced ease, trimmed them to fit.

After reassembling the frames, they came back upstairs. I was anticipating the knock and had the door open before they reached the top of the stairs so they could walk right in.

All of 5 minutes later, I was the proud new owner of 2 glass panes, and was handed the bill. Not cheap, that's for sure. I was about to hand them my card, then I realized that it didn't have the right name on it.

Stacy rescued me again; she pulled out hers and handed it to the man. He ran it through his wireless terminal and handed Stacy a receipt.

“Thank you,” Stacy said.

“Thank you, and have a nice day,” he said and the two men left.

The door clicked shut and i mimicked Stacy, “... letting the cause be our worry.” I never knew you could be Miz Bitch!

Stacy laughed and said, “We I can be Miz Bitch, and you better believe it. And, come to that, you'd better learn it, too!”
 
Eighteen
 
Stacy looked at her watch and said “12:30, we need to go!”

“Do we have to?” I asked, not relishing the thought of war paint at all.

“Yes, she said. Just because you threw a tantrum,” she grinned, “that hasn't changed.”

“OK,” I acquiesced, “do your worst.”

“Not me,” she said, “but the Bobbi Brown girls!”

She laughed and pulled me to the door, and I followed her to her car.

After a short drive, we pulled into the lot of the Sak's that was hosting the Bobbi Brown road show for the week, and Stacy had to coax me out of the car because I froze up. When I was finally out, she had to physically pull me towards the store. I was petrified, afraid people would start shouting “That's a man dressed as a woman,” but of course it never happened.

We wound our way through the “islands” of cosmetics vendors that department stores insist on setting up to the large one that Bobbi Brown had set up. A black archway with their name on it led into the demo area, where a couple of girls were giving makeup demonstrations.

Stacy asked if they had time to fit her friend in, because she was one who never wore makeup and she was trying to convince her to try. Of course she was talking about me. I was looking around for a hole to vanish into, but none availed.

I was scheduled for 20 minutes later, 1:15. That was cutting it pretty close, to make it to the photo place and then to the lawyer by 3pm.

We were asked if we wanted to wait there or come back, and before I could accept the offer of a seat, Stacy said, “We'll be taking a look around and come back in 20 minutes.”

Of course. Shopping. That figured. The following 20 minutes, I was dragged through the cosmetics department and, while shopping for herself, Stacy introduced me to more factoids about female appearance than I had ever wanted to know.

Of course, she was a receptionist. Her looks were a vital part of her job. I wasn't planning on doing something where my looks were important, but when I told her, she said, “As a woman, your looks are always important. It is the first thing people judge you by.”

“Great,” I thought. “Just great!”

One-fifteen came way too soon, and we headed back to the Bobbi Brown thing, passed under the archway and Stacy handed me off to a bubbly little thing who introduced herself as a cosmetologist named Kim. “You can call me Kimmy, everyone does.”

She proceeded to drape different color cloth around me, while I looked at a mirror that was set up so I couldn't see the cloth, but I could see my face. She was asking whether I thought I looked better this way or that. When I tried to stretch so I could actually see the colors, she explained that I wasn't supposed to see them. I was supposed to judge the color of my skin as it appeared in the subtle change of lighting caused by the color I was “wearing”.

To my surprise, when I went with the flow instead of questioning and really looked at myself, I found that I was able to perceive color differences that I could not remember ever seeing. I filed that for later, to ask Stacy about it, or possibly Alyssa.

After we did the stuff with the colors, she draped me with a white cloth, to keep my clothing clean, and pulled up some color charts. According to her, I was a Spring type. I could wear yellow, rose and other bright colors well. Pastels would suit me, but I should stay away from white, because I would leach out my own coloring. She tried a few dabs of makeup on my hand and then proceeded to spread a “liquid foundation” over my face.

Despite a reluctance to learn this, I was drawn in and watched carefully what she did in the mirror. I saw her sparingly apply blusher to my cheeks and jawbone, making me look a little like those models do, then she applied eyeliner. I had a hard time not blinking or twitching, but it seemed she was used to that and didn't make a mess of my face. Mascara was a challenge and I was blinking so hard that she finally gave up on it and said “I don't think I can get this on without making a mess of your eye makeup, and we don't have enough time left on your slot to do them again. I would suggest you practice at home, I'm sure your friend will help you.” She gave me a really strange look that said, “No idea why a woman like you doesn't know how,” and offered the products she had used on me to us. Stacy accepted and bought everything, which put a smile on Kim's face. I guessed they work on percentages, so I was happy for her. I wasn't happy for myself, although I had to admit I looked pretty good, I hadn't asked to look like this in the first place.

Two o' clock saw us entering the photo place, where I was sat on a stool in front of an off-white wall, and was told to look straight ahead, tilt my head a little this way or that, smile a little, no, not that much, yes, click, yes, click, nice, click.

In the end, I received a CD with 4 pictures Stacy had picked from the session and a print containing four copies of a picture suitable for a driver's license. We left the place and headed for the lawyer's office.
 
Nineteen
 
We arrived at the offices of Halcroft, Webb, Biggs, Attorneys at Law, at 10 minutes before three. We had been lucky to make it in such good time, the traffic gods must have been with us.

We presented ourselves at reception and were ushered into a spacious meeting room, all dark wood and soft carpeting. The door closed behind us and another opened.

A tall, distinguished man introduced himself as Steve Biggs. Wow. A partner! He then called in an assistant, a younger woman in a conservative skirted business suit. When she entered, I felt an aura around her. Remembering what Alyssa had said, magical people can sense each other, so she was probably a sorceress. One of “us.” Strange thought.

She gave no indication of having sensed me, so I also didn't mention it. Steve, who was a very personable guy, explained what they would do for me.

“We can file the needed paperwork with the courts to get your name changed today. By tomorrow, you will be receiving interim identification and a letter from the court that will allow you to get the name on your bank accounts and credit cards changed with a minimum of fuss. We will be handling the DMV, you won't have to appear in person at all. That is why we asked for the picture, we can handle that all for you.”

“I'm surprised, how can you do that?”, I said, “I didn't think that was possible?”

The assistant spoke up, “We have Family there...”

I nodded and Steve went on. “We will, shortly, procure medical letters to the effect that your sex was wrongly assigned at birth because of an error in judgment on the part of the obstetrician. We will file for correction of your birth certificate and we can guarantee that it will be granted. You will receive your new birth certificate by courier by the end of the week.”

“Wow.” I said. “This is really moving fast.”

The assistant took the photos and my old driver's license and dropped them into a brown envelope that already contained some papers, sealed it and put it into her case. She said, “I'll take these to the court house right away, they'll be processed by noon tomorrow.”

We said our goodbyes and thanked the lawyers, and were ushered out. We left the building barely half an hour after we had arrived, and got into the car to see Alyssa.

Stacy entered the address into her smart phone, and it's GPS told her it would be a 39 mile drive. I settled into my seat and closed my eyes.

End of part five

---

 
To Be Continued...
 

by Melanie T
Edited by Kristine Roland

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Twenty

I was flying, with my arms spread, enjoying the air rushing past me and taking away my worries. Flying across a better world. I swooped low and rose up into the sky, twisting and spinning, up towards the sun and down again. My long hair whipped around my face as I was zooming along the road, just above the drivers who were oblivious to my presence.

Hold it? Hair? I looked down my body, pert breasts visible in the low cut neckline in a top that wasn't meant for flying. I'm a woman, I thought. Distracted, I dropped downward, and looking forward again, just saw the truck pull out of the side street, right in front of me.

Crash! I was awakened as my body was flung forward against the seat belts before the airbags exploded and pushed Stacy and me back into our seats. Air rushing from my lungs, I was fighting for breath, then the bag collapsed and I could see again. Stacy had hit the truck straight on and people were starting to congregate on the sidewalk, rushing up to the car to help.

The smell of diesel fuel was assaulting my nose as the door was pulled open and helpful hands were helping me out of the wreck. I just managed to grab my handbag with the papers in it that the lawyer had given me, then I was hustled away from the car, while others did the same for Stacy.

It was not a moment too soon. The car's tank had also spilled its contents, the gas had found a spark, and fire hungrily engulfed the car, also igniting the diesel spilling out of the truck's burst tank.

In the distance, sirens sounded, coming closer as I was laid down on the sidewalk, safely away from the fire. Almost immediately, an ambulance pulled up, followed by a fire truck. Paramedics pulled out a stretcher and I was placed on a backboard, heaved onto the stretcher and fitted with a foam collar. Before the collar went on, I was able to catch a glimpse of myself; my left pant leg was soggy with blood, the shoe missing.

One of the paramedics cut open my jeans, the look on his face spelled trouble. Someone came up with a syringe, saying, “Here is something for the pain, and to let you relax.” Funny, I felt no pain, but before I could say something, I felt a sting in my arm and blackness took me.

Twenty-One

Beep. Shuddup! Beep. Damn. Beep..... Beep.

The insistent beeping brought me fully around and I opened my eyes. I was surrounded by medical equipment, multiple screens staring at me. Tubes were stuck into my arms and I still couldn't move my neck.

I heard a voice say, “She's coming around, doctor.”

A woman appeared and said, “I'm Dr. Weston. You've been injured in an accident. I would like to ask you a few questions and check a few things. First, how many fingers do you see?” She held up 3 fingers, and I answered, “Three.”

“Fine,” she said, do you know what day of the week it is?

“Monday, Monday afternoon.” I said.

“Fair enough,” she said, “it's Monday evening now, you were under for about 3 hours. We're going to remove the collar now, it was only a precaution. We have given you an x-ray and there is nothing broken.”

She proceeded to undo the Velcro strips and removed the collar, then unclipped the restraints that were holding my arms to the sides of the bed. “There you go, that's much better, I think.”

“Yes, thank you," I said. "Could I have some water?”

“Sure. Nurse, please give the patient a little water.” She said and turned to me, “Please don't drink too hastily; you may feel nauseous at first.”

Actually, I was feeling fine, and I still wasn't feeling any pain. I didn't know if that was good or bad.

“We're going to have a look at your leg in a little bit, but first you have a visitor,” The doctor said.

“A visitor,” I asked? “And, what happened to Stacy?”

“Stacy? Oh, the driver, right. She'll be alright but she's had a nasty concussion and isn't awake. She'll have to stay a day or two for observation.”

“Who is my visitor,” I asked?

“She said to tell you her name is Alyssa.”

“Please ask her to come in!” I said.

The doctor left and a moment later the door opened and Alyssa came in. “Hello Veronica,” she said, “I'm so glad to see you're not hurt badly.”

The door closed behind her and she dropped her voice to say, “I have been casting a few spells. You were quite badly injured but by now it should be closed up pretty well. When they look at it, they will figure the paramedic made a mistake filling out the paperwork. They should release you with just a bandage and some aspirin.”

I was happy to hear that, I had been worried sick about the problems I would be facing with a hospital stay. I asked, “Can you do anything for Stacy?”

“No, she is not really hurt, all she needs is a little rest and she'll be just fine.”

“Who called you?” I asked.

“Your tracer went off. Just before you were sedated, it kicked in and let us know where you were. Do you want a new one?” She pulled out a familiar looking pouch and I nodded.

“It's sure been useful this time; I'd like a new one, if possible.”

She took out the familiar black, twisting thing and pressed it into my palm, closing my fingers over it, and it vanished inside my body. I smiled, knowing I had some protection again.

“Please come see me as soon as possible, we have important things to speak about,” She said.

I nodded and Alyssa said goodbye for now and left.

The doctor came back in and said, “Right, now let's look at that leg of yours.”

She pulled up my covers and use scissors to cut away the bandages, peeling them back carefully. She frowned at what she saw and muttered something about incompetents, then said, “You're not really hurt badly at all. This is just a scrape, it must have hit some blood vessel to bleed this much, but I can't see anything major at all.”

“I don't feel any pain.” I said.

“With what I see here, I would say we just bandage this up nicely and let you leave. There is no reason to keep you here, none at all.”

She called a nurse to replace the bandages and cut off the bloody part of the cut jeans leg, and turned to scribble into a file while I was bandaged up.

Then the nurse went outside and came back in with a wheelchair. I was asked to get out of bed and sit in the wheelchair. I really think it's ridiculous, having to leave in a wheelchair even if you're perfectly able to walk, but I just wanted this nightmare to be over and didn't even argue.

I sat down in the wheelchair and was wheeled down to the reception area, where I was given a sheaf of papers to look over and sign.

According to this, the Celtic Conservation and Study Society was picking up the tab, I was a member of their group insurance policy. That was good news, after the unexpected expense of having my bedroom window replaced; I wasn't looking forward to spending money on a hospital stay.

I signed the forms and got up from the wheelchair, the nurse wished me well and I was out on the street.

Now I was on my own. Stacy would be stuck in the hospital for another day or two; I was missing a shoe and had no transport.

Twenty-Two

I pulled out my mobile and rang Alyssa's number. She answered and I explained my predicament. She suggested I should take a taxi and gave me her address; she would pay the cab on arrival. I hobbled to the nearest taxi stand, where I was able to grab a cab and go to Alyssa's house.

When I arrived, Alyssa was outside, handed the cabbie his money and helped me out of the cab. She ushered me inside and led me to her living room, where she asked me to lay down on her table, which I found set up there.

I laid down and she swiftly, but carefully removed the bandages. She then proceeded to place a row of reddish gems in a line on the wound, and began to chant some words under her breath. I felt a tingle from my leg and got very tired, and soon fell into a light sleep.

“Veronica,” Alyssa called, “wake up, it is done.”

I opened my eyes and raised myself up off the table, looking down at my leg. There was no trace of an injury, no scar at all. It was healed as if nothing had ever happened to it.

Alyssa saw me stare and said, “It wasn't a deep injury, after the healing I already did at the hospital. It was pretty bad then, but the magic I used works over time. Your own powers helped too, it's always easier to heal one of us than to heal an outsider.

I got off the table, which she put away quickly and we sat down to talk.

“First, let me say that I'm sorry that this has happened to you by the actions of one of us. That is inexcusable and the responsible party will be apprehended and punished.”

“We have spoken about this case at length after I have examined you, and also contacted another branch of the Family. The spells that were used on you are quite varied, and have never been seen in quite that combination before.”

“A competent magic worker wouldn't have done it this way; the combination is highly volatile and also not likely to achieve the seemingly intended goal. The way it was cast, instead of living a life of misery, the victims would most likely kill themselves.”

“What we are not quite clear about is why you would be the target of such a spell,” she said.

“The issues we have to contend with are twofold. First, we need to help you recover as much of your life as possible, we feel obligated because you were the victim of one of our kind. Second, we will have to train you as one of us, because you are a danger to yourself and others if we don't. We accept that responsibility.”

“The episode at your place has shown that you are stronger than we thought, also, your powers seem to be unusually versatile.”

“If you accept, I can offer you a place to stay here, for a few weeks, while you learn the basics of your powers and how to control them. Please don't get me wrong, we're not keeping you prisoner, you can choose to leave now and come here for training each day. But, I must insist that you complete this initial training, because right now you're an accident looking for a place to happen.”

I thought about her offer for a few minutes, and then said, “I'm happy to accept your offer, but I can't always stay here. I have things I need to take care of, I need to access my computer and keep my connections going. I'm going to need them later on and I have a few stories to follow up on. I'm certainly going to go through with the training and will likely stay here many nights, but I do have to go home every once in a while.”

“That's perfectly fine, I said, you're not a prisoner, but a valued member of the Family.”

I smiled at her and said, “Thank you. I'm so happy not to be alone.” I meant it, too.

Twenty-Three

Alyssa gave me some money so I could get home by cab, and called one for me. While we waited, she gave me a long look and said, “You know, you don't have to do it all by yourself.”

What did she mean by that? Did she want to let me know that she was aware that I was investigating? Or was it just reassurance, to make me feel better?

My musings were interrupted by the arrival of the cab. Alyssa asked me to come back the next morning at 9am to start my studies, and I got into the cab and gave my home address.

Once home, I got out of the ruined jeans and took off my remaining shoe and the stocking, and consigned all of them to the trash can.

I pulled off my top and dropped onto the bed in my bra and panties. I pulled up the covers and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Morning dawned bright and early and the first sun rays woke me at 7am. I realized that I was lucky to wake in time, because I had not set an alarm.

I got out of the bed and started breakfast, then worked on removing the remaining make up. Some of it was quite stubbornly refusing to come off, but rubbing my skin raw with a washcloth I managed to get it off. I brushed my hair and went back to the kitchen and my food. The English muffins were already cooled down again, but the most important part, my coffee, was good and hot. I poured myself a mug, buttered my muffins and spread some jam on them. I quickly ate and looked through the shopping bags.

There wasn't another pair of Jeans!

Also, there were no shoes except for the trainers.

I might not have the shopping gene, but I did need something to wear. In desperation, I tried a pair of my men's jeans, but there was just no way I could make them work. I'd have to shop for more clothing, and soon.

Then I had an idea. I dug the cut up jeans out of the trash and shortened both legs to just below the knee. I put on my last clean pair of panties, the yellow top, the cut off jeans and my trainers. At least I was dressed enough to leave the place now.

I went downstairs, located my car in the lot and got in. For a brief moment I was totally disoriented, I could barely look over the hood and the seat was so far back! I pulled levers and pushed buttons until I reached a position where I could reach the controls, started the engine and set the GPS.

I followed the directions, trying to memorize as I went, until I arrived at Alyssa's house. It was only 8:30am, but as I went up to the door, she opened it and let me in.

She looked at me and grinned, and said, “As far as ideas go, you're on top of things, but that's no look for you. We need to get you something else to wear today.”

I nodded and moved past her towards the living room.

“Please come this way,” she said, and pointed to another door, “the study is much better suited to the task at hand.”

I followed her in and found myself in a large room with wall to wall bookshelves. The books were old, I mean, really old. Huge, leather bound tomes, small, moleskin-like journals, books with iron hinges, any manner of book was there.

The center of the floor was taken up by a circle decorated with symbols that looked Celtic, and almost made sense to me. They seemed to writhe and try to hide when I looked at them, but I could concentrate easily and they would stop and let themselves be read.

My little exercise wasn't lost on Alyssa, who nodded and smiled, “I see you have already started. And I think you have been able to look at the runes. Good, it means you have great potential for precise control, that is a very important prerequisite for learning the craft.”

She asked me to sit down inside the circle, facing the center, and took a position on the opposite side. She spoke a brief phrase and the circle glowed with a greenish tinge for a moment.

She said, “I set some wards, so that any power that gets loose won't do harm”

I nodded and asked, “So, what do I need to do?”

She produced a bluish, shimmering ball, which she placed in the center of the circle. She then took both my hands and concentrated on the ball. I felt power surge outwards as the ball began to spin and floated upwards, hovering about a foot off the ground.

She held it there for a few seconds, and then let it settle down again. She then repeated this a few more times.

Then she looked at me and said, “Now you do it!”

I gave her a helpless look and asked, “How?”

She smiled and said, “You have felt me do it. The same power is yours. Try to make the energy flow the same way.”

I tried, I really did, but the ball wouldn't budge. Not at all. Alyssa was holding my hands and saying nothing at all. I swore I'd never play poker with her, she was impossible to read.

I think I must have been close to an aneurysm, or maybe I had already burst some blood vessels in my brain, well, it felt like it. Still, the ball didn't move.

Alyssa looked at me and said, “Don't force it. I feel what you're doing, you're forcing the power, and it won't let that happen. Let it flow out, direct it. Ease up on it, let it flow.”

I relaxed and recalled what it had felt like when she did it, and began to feel a flow of warm energy from my body into my hands, and from there into Alyssa's hands.

She smiled at me and said, “Now you're on a good way. Now the power is flowing, direct it. Tell it what to do. Use imagery, words, and emotions. Use whatever works. This is different for each of us.”

I played with it, imagined the ways the power would flow. I imagined the power as a stream, a multicolored band floating in the air, like a thick shoestring. I thought of it pushing the ball upwards, and imagined seeing it move to get under the ball and push.

The ball rolled sideways.

Alyssa smiled at me and said, “You're off to a good start. You have found your way. Now it's all practice from here on in.”

She broke the wards and I realized I was ravenous. I looked at my watch, it said 7pm! The day was gone, in a session that seemed like it only lasted an hour.

I asked Alyssa about it, and she said, “Magic is related to time, and can do funny things to it. Also, we have a different relationship with time than normal humans.”

She went on, “I have been avoiding the term, but normal, nonmagical humans are termed 'mortals' by our kind. That makes it seem that we're immortal; we're not. But we live very long lives. I am 635 years old. There are other beings that live even longer lives and there are even a few true immortals. We, however, just age very slowly. We can control our visual aspect, so we can appear youthful when we choose to.”

I sat there, stunned. Six hundred and thirty five years! That was hard to comprehend. And I was one of them now, would I live that long?

I asked, “Will I also have such a long life?”

Alyssa sighed and said, “We can't be sure, with the way you came by your powers, but I believe so. If you use your powers, you will also have such a long life.”

I wanted to run, run far away and hide. Here I was, in a body I didn't want, a gender I could hardly deal with, and I had just been told that I would be like that for several human life spans.

Alyssa felt my panic coming on and, with a quick chant, set the wards again. Not a second too soon! When I screamed, the inside of the wards was bathed in a multicolored display of energies, ricocheting off the wards and weaving an intricate pattern of power.

I broke down, spent. The little ball lay there, shattered. Alyssa was untouched. She just took me in her arms and tears started to flow freely as I cried out my pain and fear.

When I was all cried out, Alyssa flicked the wards off, picked me up and carried my effortlessly to a bed in her guest room, pulled the covers over me and said, “Sleep Veronica, sleep and heal.”

She turned off the lights and left the room. I didn't see her set wards around the room, I was already asleep.

End of part six.

Edited by Kristine Roland

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Twenty-four

The next morning I awoke in an unfamiliar bed. I remembered starting my magic training, and I remembered having managed to channel my powers successfully. I didn't remember much about how the evening had ended, but I was famished. I don't think I ate anything after breakfast the day before.

I found my clothing, what was left of it, anyway, put it on again and opened the door. A green haze closed off the opening of the door frame. I recognized it as a ward, and a symbol came to my mind unbidden. I knew the symbol was one on the floor in the circle, and as I concentrated on it, it's pronunciation became clear to me. I uttered the short sound and the wards blinked out.

I stepped out of the room into the upstairs hallway, intent on finding, first a bathroom, then the kitchen and some food.

As I passed the head of the stairway, words drifted upwards and I stopped and listened to what was said.

I recognized Alyssa's voice, saying, “She unleashed a firestorm the likes of which I have never seen before. I was glad I had warded the circle, she would have blown up the house.”

Another female voice said, “So, where is this prodigal talent now?”

“I put her into bed upstairs and warded the room. To keep us safe, and also so I would know when she gets up. When she touches the wards, I will know and I will drop them so fast, she'll never realize she was locked in at all.”

“So what are you planning to do?”

“I'm going to train her just as I said I would. I'm just following the high elder's suggestion. Untrained she is dangerous and cannot be held responsible. Trained, she is still dangerous, but if she does anything, we can act against her. Once she is trained, she will be responsible for what she does.”

“So true. I see unlimited possibilities. We can easily move her into a position where she would be useful to us. Let her make a mistake, and she's ours forever. She's ignorant of our politics; she'll never even know her role.”

“It's not right,” said Alyssa, “she didn't ask for this. We have a duty to protect her. I will bow to the high elder's will, but I will not try to anticipate her abusing her position. If she explicitly orders me, I will follow, but I will do no treachery without that.”

“It's not treachery to follow your elder.”

“It is, in my heart, to betray the trust of one I am charged to protect. And our elders are supposed to be of high morals and fine mettle...”

“Watch your tongue! The walls have ears and we live in dangerous times indeed. Now, let me be away and you take good care of your ward, and the wards.”

“Safe paths.”

“Be safe.”

I tiptoed back into my room, and recalled the spell symbol that controlled the wards. After a couple of tries, the symbol stood before my inner eye, and I uttered the word. The wards came to life, and I touched the gossamer green web. A tingle ran up my arm as the wards winked out.

“Veronica?” Alyssa called from below, and a smile flickered across my lips, it hadn't been a dream, it was real. I was scared of the future, unsure where I stood, but I reveled in the ease with which I had defeated the wards, intuitively knowing the symbol, the words, to control them.

“Yes, I'm up,” I called out, “and looking for the bathroom.”

“Last door at the end of the hallway on the left,” Alyssa called up the steps and I made a beeline for it.

Business done, I splashed some water into my face, toweled off and went downstairs. Breakfast was served and I tucked in, trying to eat a generous helping but finding out that this body asked for far less than my old one, despite having been without food for 24 hours.

I decided on a bit of deceit of my own and played dumb; “What was that green stuff across my door,” I asked?

“Wards,” Alyssa said, “set to protect us and you. They should have turned off when you touched them.”

“Yes, they did. It tingled and they went out.”

“So all was as it should be,” said Alyssa and smiled.

“Yeah, right,” I thought, and smiled back.

Having eaten, Alyssa ushered me into the study, warded the circle, and produced a blue ball. An image of a shattered blue ball flashed before my eyes, and some memories returned, filling in the images the overheard words had hinted at.

I found that yesterday's breakthrough had opened the floodgates for me, but I didn't let on. I tried to move the ball and nudged it back and forth a number of times, in a very uncoordinated manner. Finally, we broke for lunch and Alyssa dropped the wards and left for the kitchen.

I smiled and the ball rose off the floor, spinning, and made a circuit of the room, to settle back where it had come from. I smiled again. Two can play this game.

Twenty-five

After an unremarkable lunch, Alyssa took me out to the local strip mall, where I proceeded to pick up a couple of pairs of new jeans, some more tops and another pair of flats. Remembering the discomfort of breaking in flats barefoot, I also got some more knee-highs. A couple of packs of new panties and I was done. “Nothing to it,” I thought, “I can handle that.”

We went back to Alyssa's house, and I played with the ball some more. Getting tired of this little game, I eventually made the ball spin and rise, eager to see what the next exercise would be. I was surprised when she threw another ball right at me. The ball I had been levitating dropped like a stone.

Alyssa said, “You should keep that ball up no matter what.”

I raised the ball again, and she began pelting me with other balls, pushing and shoving me, tickling me and pushing waves of magical energy at me. It took all my concentration to keep the little ball afloat and spinning at first, later it became easier. By evening, she wasn't able to faze me, the ball would hang there and spin while I got chased around the room, or attacked magically, getting explanations about how to defend against the attacks I had been subjected to. When we were done, I found that I had all but forgotten that I was still holding the ball up. I spun it down and made it settle in the circle and she pronounced that stage of my training complete.

“You are really exceptional,” she said, “normal students need about a week to master this as perfectly as you did.”

I was very pleased with the praise, and I let it show. My face lit up with a smile and I said, “Thank you.”

Inside, I was feeling really good. I had actually been holding myself back and invested much of my time into repeating and memorizing the cantrips and attacks/counterattacks she had used as props for the training.

I kept repeating them in my mind over dinner, and when I retired to my room, I felt Alyssa putting the wards up again. As soon as they were up, I began practicing and refining the things I had learned today, until sleep overtook me.

The next day, I went to the hospital to see Stacy. She was being discharged and I went up to her room, helped her pack the few things she had there and followed her wheelchair down to reception. After battling the bureaucrats, she was finally free to go and I took her to her place in my car.

We went out to eat that evening and I told her about my beginning magical training. I didn't dare give her a demonstration in the restaurant, but as soon as we left, I showed her the spinning ball. She was amazed that that was really possible and that I could do it already. I told her that I would be spending a lot of time with Alyssa and we promised to meet up every few days for dinner and a talk.

I dropped her at her place and left for Alyssa's house.

Twenty-Six

Days turned into weeks. Outside of eating with Stacy, visits to my old place, checking emails but not getting anything in, and occasional shopping trips to add more of the same to my wardrobe, nothing much happened. My days were filled with the study of magic. After Alyssa had established that I could read the runes, I was allowed to selectively read from the books in her study. The spells I learned were defense, protection, and some practical things like advanced levitation.

I asked several times about things that I had a feeling had to be there, but was told those things weren't possible, or that I wasn't far enough along to try them. Unlike on the second day, where I had learned a few mild offense spells, I didn't learn any more fighting spells at all.

Or so she thought.

I had soon learned that on two days each week, Tuesday and Thursday, Alyssa was gone almost all night. On those nights, I would drop the wards and sneak into the study, pulling out books at random to scavenge for useful magic. I found books with impossibly complicated spells, spells no one in their sane mind would ever need, and even outright revolting ones.

I also found books on magical fighting, which I read cover to cover, practicing what I could, memorizing what I could not try. I had always had a good memory, as a part of my forced makeover, that had improved and I was easily able to learn a large number of spells in these cramming sessions. On the nights where Alyssa was in, I would practice them in my room, and finally I considered myself fairly proficient in a lot of them. I was sure I would be underestimated and that would give me the edge in their machinations, should the involvement prove unavoidable.

I also studied some spells that would let me set traps and spy on people, and I found a few spells that could be used to exert control over mortals, and in some cases, other magical beings.

I learned that there was inanimate magic, spell items that could be made and then could be used by anyone, even a mortal. I learned about magical tattoos and what they could do.

My secret studies progressed by leaps and bounds, while I set a moderate pace in my official learning. Alyssa believed me to be fairly competent and very talented, and I overheard another meeting where she admitted that she had been steering me away from things that could limit my usefulness for the elder's plans. That, after all, she was loyal, and didn't want there to be any doubt about it.

I had also found out that my magical ability was undetectable to the Family. They weren't able to see my aura at all, not even close up, while my sensitivity had increased to extend beyond the house, so if someone with powers came to visit, I always knew. I also never let on that I could see auras and it was assumed that, because mine wasn't visible, I couldn't see theirs, either. I didn't disabuse them of that notion.

Twenty-seven

“Veronica, wake up!” I was being shaken. “Wake up, quick.”

“What?” I asked.

“Get up, no time to waste!” Alyssa said, “you need to leave, now!”

“What is happening?”, I asked.

“Politics. The elder who ran our Family has been killed. Alliances are shifting and I'm afraid the people who are looking like they will come out on top are not in favor of letting you live.”

“Letting me live?” I was stunned. I had known that something was afoot, but I hadn't thought that I actually had enemies. “So, why are you helping me,” I asked?

“Because I believe in what's right. You don't know what has transpired and you don't have the background knowledge of our society's structure, so I can't explain. Not now. Don't go back to your place after this night. Don't use the new papers you've been given. Don't access your account. They will be watching. Here, take this.” She pressed an envelope into my hand, a rather thick one. Without looking at it, I knew it contained money.

“I'm sorry I couldn't complete your training, and I'm even more sorry I couldn't train you as I would have. I can be honest with you now, I was ordered to keep you away from things that would make you a danger.”

“Alyssa, I know. I have known from the start.” I said.

“But, how?” She asked.

I touched the door frame, muttered the word and the wards blinked out.

Alyssa blinked. “Oh!” She said.

“The ability to do that came to me on the first night here. I have listened. I know the bind you were in, and I know your position. Thank you. For everything.”

“Veronica.... Ronni,” she said, “I'm going to miss you. Safe paths.”

“Be safe.”

I left the house, got into my car and drove off. I headed straight for my apartment, where I packed my computer and what paperwork I had, plus a few keepsakes and personal possessions. I left before dawn, heading towards Los Angeles. On the way, I traded my car for a '96 BMW, paying cash and showing no ID at all.

I made sure I would not be remembered,

Noontime saw me head up the 405 freeway to the 10, then eastbound on the 10 to La Cienega. I headed north on La Cienega and found a cheap residential motel just south of Pico. Not the best area, to be sure, but one where dead presidents replaced proper ID quite easily. Not letting on how much money I had, I checked into a weekly room and paid it up for a month. Pulling out a piece of chalk, I made runic marks on the door frame, which, once complete, faded into invisibility. I did the same with all windows, using a different symbol. Then, I touched the door, said the word, and the wards blinked on. I was safe. I had gotten away.

Twenty-eight

In the past two months, all my time had been taken up by my magical training, both official and unofficial. In all that time, I didn't have to deal with my changed reality, I could be “I” without having to define who “I” actually was.

Now, I was on my own, for the first time I was really alone.

I didn't dare to call Stacy, I couldn't put her in harms way like that. I was young woman, alone, with a limited amount of money, no papers, no job, in Los Angeles.

And I didn't know much about being a woman.

I took a pencil and a piece of paper, and made a list. That had always helped me to organize my mind and get on top of difficult situations.

I started writing down things that I needed to take care of:

- Extend my wardrobe
- Get makeup and learn how to use it
- Find work
- Get fake ID
- Continue my investigation

I shuffled the items around a bit and decided I needed the ID before I could get a job. Also, I needed to get real internet access for my own PC before I could restart my investigation. The good thing was that Los Angeles actually had 5 potential transformees who suicided, enough to imagine there could be a survivor as well. I was in the right place.

I missed Stacy a lot, and at one time I took the chance and drove all the way to Orange County, found an internet cafe and send a one liner to her work email.

“I'm well, don't worry. R.”

I quickly left there and returned to the safety of my motel room.

I pulled out my list again, and gave it a long hard look. Then, across the top, in large letters, I wrote, “Learn how to be a girl!!” and underlined it twice. Then I threw myself onto the bed, my world caving in on me, and I cried myself to sleep.

Twenty-nine

I didn't know that Alyssa had helped me adjust by casting a spell on me, and also I wasn't aware that that spell was temporary. It was about to run out.

When I woke up, I was suffering from abdominal pain. “Oh swell,” I thought, “I knew I should not have eaten that burger.”

I headed for the bathroom and pulled down my panties to do my morning's business. However, nothing happened, so I wiped myself and stood up. When I went to pull up my panties, I noticed the red spot. I checked the bowl and, sure enough, there also was blood on the tissue.

On a rational level, I identified what was happening to me as a period, but emotionally, I was in panic. I was a guy; I shouldn't be having a period. I didn't sign up for this! What should I do? Who could I ask?

I wadded up some paper and pushed it between my legs, then pulled up the panties and jeans. It was pretty uncomfortable, but I felt safe for the moment.

“Think,” I said to myself, “think how the women in your life handled it!”

Tampons came to mind. I remembered that is what they used. I went outside and looked up and down the street, spotting a 7-11 two blocks down. I got into my car and drove to the store, headed inside and found the feminine hygiene section. Thank God for little favors, the store was so small they only stocked one brand. No choices at all meant I couldn't miss. I grabbed the pink box and paid for it.

Buying tampons felt wrong and all the while I tried to come up with some excuse for buying them. When I paid for them, it all happened very matter of fact. My male personality couldn't deal well with buying tampons, but my female exterior had every right to buy them and the clerk didn't give me a second glance. I jumped into the car and drove back to the motel. When I was inside, with the door locked and warded, my panicky feeling subsided a little and I went to the bathroom to see if I was already bleeding.

Of course I wasn't. I was barely spotting, but little did I know. I read the directions on the box, then pulled one of the tampons out, discarded the wrapper, took the applicator sleeve as the drawing showed, and searched for the opening.

That was a really weird feeling. Nothing should be able to go inside me. I should have an outie, dammit!

I fumbled around and managed to poke and prod myself in a lot of ways that felt decidedly uncomfortable, but finally I found the opening and the right angle and pushed the applicator in until my fingers were flat against my body, then pushed down on the insertion tube with my finger. Inside, something slipped into a spot where it felt right, and I withdrew the tube, remembering at the last moment to make sure the string was free to slip out through the tube so everything remained in place. Whew. I was glad that was done and I didn't relish the thought of having to do it again anytime soon. Unfortunately, I knew I would have to.

“Learn how to be a girl. Yeah. Right,” I thought.

End of part seven

Edited by Kristine Roland

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Thirty

“She WHAT?” Said the large man who sat at the head of the long table.

The table was enclosed in a shimmering green sphere, and seemed to float in the void of space; there were no surroundings visible at all.

To the right of the man sat Alyssa, looking decided uncomfortable.

“She gave us the slip.”

“I thought that was what I heard. Would you care to explain to us,” he motioned at the assembled group, all looking at Alyssa, “how that could possibly have happened?"

Alyssa shifted in her chair, where she couldn't seem to get comfortable today, and said, “She knows much more magic than she's let on. How that came to be, I don't know. But she's apparently had some extra training outside of the curriculum.”

Alyssa seemed to melt down into her chair even further, if that was at all possible, to escape the piercing gaze from the large man's cold, gray eyes.

“Her appearance was about the single most fortuitous thing to happen in the past 3 centuries. Finally there is a magical agent that can't be traced back to us. Someone with strong powers and not wise to our ways. And YOU LET HER SLIP AWAY!” He shouted at the cowering woman, who just closed her eyes. There was nothing more to say.

“I task you with finding her. Do not report back unless you do. Your membership in the Council is suspended.”

Alyssa nodded meekly.

“You are dismissed,” he said, in a tone as cold as ice.

Alyssa walked into the green mist, spoke an incantation and stepped out of a mirror in her house. She took one step forward and the mirror shattered. No way back.

Alyssa sat in thought. Her options were few, and summarily unattractive.

When she discovered Veronica, she had immediately reported the find to the Council. That is where her first loyalty lay, the Council that was formed 800 years ago to overthrow the power structures created by the elders in times forgotten.

She had been a member for around 250 years now, stepping up to the place at the leader's right hand 10 years ago. The elders had never done anything for her. Her desire to learn magic had been denied when she was younger, she was told she wasn't ready for the spells she craved to have. She was put down and kept ignorant by a system only designed to let those who had power hold on to it.

That was how she perceived the high elder and her cronies, as elitist and selfish, high-handedly dealing out power and knowledge as they saw fit.

Most in the Council shared that view, they believed magic should be available to more people and power should be given to the able, not the noble. Ability over heritage.

Of course, the Council considered themselves the most able. In that way, they were no better and possibly worse, but Alyssa had deluded herself that the Council was the better choice.

The Council had decided to get this wild card, an undetectable sorceress, trained in certain aspects of magic, protective mostly, so she'd not get killed before her time came. They didn't care how she came to be, and there was no investigation. The council cared about what she could do. Or be made to do.

In the training sessions at Alyssa's house, Veronica had experienced many hours of memory gaps, where suddenly a day was gone without her remembering any details of it. On those days, Veronica had not studied magic. Instead, she had been under Alyssa's spells, a complex spell device was embedded within her. In successive sessions, layer after layer of the spell was woven until it was nearing completion.

Veronica had been made a perfect magical assassin. The spells within her were strong enough to kill the high elder and the entire court. Powered from the tremendous magical energy within Veronica, they would lash out and each would attach to its target, killing them in unique and novel ways, as if to set an example.

The death of the high elder had thrown things into disarray. The first order was given in haste; kill the assassin, her services are no longer required.

Alyssa was a cold woman. 250 years in a position of power had almost completely eradicated compassion from her heart. She had kept her sense of honor, to her own credit, and adhered to a somewhat loose, but still present, set of ethics. That set her apart, from the rest of the Council, who considered all others beneath notice.

When the order came to kill Veronica, Alyssa did the honorable thing and helped her get away. Only minutes after she had left, Alyssa received the countermanding order. The coup had failed. A new high elder was installed, the Council had lost 4 members in the fighting and the assassin was still required.

Alyssa had hidden the fact that the assassin was already gone and set out to recover Veronica. After having warned her, she should really trust her, and it would be quite easy to reel her back in.

She looked everywhere, but Veronica had vanished. Finally, Alyssa had to report back to the Council. It hadn't gone well. Not well at all.

At least she was still alive.

Thirty-one

Elsewhere, Charissa could not keep a smile off her face. They thought her powerless, thought she had been defeated and was no longer a threat. Little did they know. The small opening to the magical world that it had taken a century to create may not have looked like much, but it was all she had, and she had learned to value it immensely.

It had been large enough to project a certain rune into a certain sorceress' mind at the right time. Timing really was everything.

Charissa settled back to watch events unfold. One couldn't do much else in prison.

Thirty-two

My problem was that I had a male mind in a female body. Ironically, that very problem held in itself a way of coping with itself. My mind was that of a highly trained investigative reporter, a mind well suited to problem solving.

I felt pretty good about my ability to deal with something like my period that smoothly, but I was keenly aware that there were a lot of unsolved issues, issues that I needed help with.

I missed Stacy a lot, she'd been a good friend when there was no one else to turn to, she was the one reason I was alive right now.

I thought about my situation and came to the conclusion that I would contact Stacy. She wasn't running from the law, and she didn't think the magical society had a dragnet like the FBI had.

I got into my car and drove up north on La Cienega and turned into the parking lot of the Beverly Center. I parked my car and entered the mall area.

I had been here before, in another life. It seemed like it was centuries ago, but it had only been a year. I remembered seeing the store I was looking for on an upper level and headed to the bank of elevators, punching the 2nd floor button harder than I needed to.

The elevator moved and “dinged," and I stepped out on the upper shopping concourse. I spotted the shop selling phones on the other side of the building and started around the concourse, barely looking at the windows where the latest fashion and jewelry were on display.

Entering the phone shop, I looked around for the most expensive phones in the store. The idea was that, if I spent a lot of money, they would be more amenable to cut corners and let me get away with getting a working prepaid mobile without proper ID.

Things worked out exactly as planned, the thought of selling a brand new E75 at full price made the clerk very susceptible to my wiles. I told him my handbag with all paperwork was stolen, and I needed a phone for my job. It would be 10 days until I get a new license and 10 days without a phone would be impossible to handle.

I walked out of the store the proud owner of a Nokia E75 GPS smartphone with a full set of accessories. In it was a prepaid SIM card, with $50 of credit.

I returned to the lower level of the mall, found a place to sit down and punched Stacy's number.

“Hello?” Stacy answered the phone.

“Stacy, it's me. Ronnie. Can you talk?”

“Ronnie! I was so worried! What happened? Where are you? How are you? Oooh, I'm so glad you're alive and well!”

“Listen, I got pulled into a dirty game. Alyssa is not a friend. Never was. She was playing a game and I don't know who else is involved. They have people everywhere and they might be tracking you to find me. I'm banking on them not being able to wiretap your mobile. I got myself an anonymous prepaid, save the number. It won't be on all the time, just in case they can locate it. I'll only turn it on to call, then off again. I'm alone and totally lost with this girl thing. What should I do? On top of it all, I'm having a period!”

“Calm down, girl! Half of mankind has them. They're not lethal!”

“But I'm not supposed to! I'm a man! Oh my God! I can get pregnant! Damn, I'm supposed to make the babies, not have them.”

“Don't get all worked up, Ronnie. Breathe. Calm down. Listen, I'm going to regret this. Let me say it quickly before I do. I'll take my vacation. Plead an emergency. I have two weeks piled up plus some overtime. I'll help you. Oh my God, did I just offer that? Girl friend, the offer stands!”

“You're the best! I don't deserve you. Really. I'll be in touch; I have to see if I can get you out from under their noses. If they're even looking.”

“Ok, I'll go talk to my boss. Take care and bye for now.”

“Bye.”

I felt so much better now. I was not alone. I was going to have help getting through this. I smiled as I turned off the phone and walked to my car.

I lazed away the rest of the day in front of the TV. I wasn't watching anything, but I was too keyed up to sleep. Dinner was Taco Bell.

I went to bed early.

Thankfully, I didn't have any nightmares.

Thirty-three

I called Stacy in the morning and heard that her boss had thrown a tantrum, but finally agreed to two weeks off. I told Stacy to stay put at her place and I would pick her up. I didn't want to give my location on the telephone.

I got into my car and headed out of LA. I had a few hours' drive ahead of me and I needed to think. I was happy to be back in touch with Stacy, and happy nothing had happened to her. Not getting in touch was hard, but it seemed to have been a good thing, since no one had bothered her.

It would be good to have Stacy here; I really needed someone to talk to. I couldn't think of anyone else, no one from my previous life knew what had happened to me, and I hadn't made new friends. I had spent all my time with Stacy, or training with Alyssa.

I had handled having a period well enough, but there was more to being a woman. Especially if I wanted to find out what had happened to me.

With what I knew, I was certain that there was only one place I could go to look for a survivor; the sex industry.

Women related to the sex industry, even if they were not sex workers, were not like me. They knew about clothing, they knew about makeup, and wore it. They were active in the nightlife.

I was none of these things. I was a tomboyish woman at best. Weird at worst. I could not possibly fit in without help. And there was one source of such help available to me. My friend Stacy.

I could hardly wish for a better friend. A friend in need is a friend indeed. I owed her, big time. I doubted I deserved a friend like that, but I was so happy I had her.

I was worried about my ability to pick up what I needed in time. I needed quite a bit, I imagined, to make a place for myself in that particular scene. I needed to get into a position where I would be connected to the grapevine.

I had no chance to find the one or two girls I expected to have survived by looking for them myself. I had to wait for information to come to me. Look for pieces of the puzzle, then dig deeper.

I was approaching Stacy's place and parked almost directly in front of it. Since no one knew this car, that should be safe enough. Come to think of it, no one would recognize me, forget the car! I went up to Stacy's door and pushed the bell button. Stacy opened the door and pulled me inside, then closed the door.

“Hello, Veronica, it is really nice to see you,” said Alyssa. She waved her hand and Stacy was pushed against the wall, away from me.

“How nice of you to come by,” she said, “I have missed you.”

End of part eight

Edited by Kristine Roland

 

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Thirty-four

I stared at her with my mouth open for what seemed like 5 minutes, but really couldn't have been more than a few seconds.

Stacy was sobbing, “I'm sorry, she made me do it...” over and over again.

I found my mind was sluggish, I could not muster enough concentration to use any magic. Also, I was unable to move.

Alyssa smiled coldly, “Don't bother trying, I have damped your mind to where you can't use magic, and you can't move, either. You have caused a lot of trouble for me, hiding as well as you did. I don't like getting in trouble, especially not through some little girl.”

She went on, “You're my ticket to get back into the Council's good graces. It's you they want and you they shall have. I will be reinstated when I deliver you!”

She took out a pair of handcuffs and put them on me. After she took a step back, I found I could move again. I seemed to recall that this sort of spell was somewhat taxing, holding someone in this state required constant energy expenditure and vigilance. Now, she visibly relaxed.

“Now, I'm going to walk out of here with you. No one will see or hear you, don't even think about crying for help. We will get into the car and I will deliver you to... wherever,” she stopped short of naming the place, then continued, “and then I will finally be rid of you,”

By this time, I was really scared; I was worried about what would happen to me. Why did they want me that badly? I was no danger to them and not even a fully trained sorceress. They couldn't know of my secret studies, could they?

My eyes flickered over to Stacy, who stirred and looked up.

Alyssa said, “We don't have any use for her anymore,” and turned to aim her hand at her to cast a spell. I panicked; she was about to kill the only friend I had left.

At this moment, the distress level of my tracer was reached and a sphere of energy emanated outward and sped away into the distance. Alyssa was distracted by the force of the energy, she was the receiver for that tracer, but it wasn't meant to trigger with her so close by.

She raised a hand to her head and her concentration broke. My mind was suddenly free to work and I reached into the well of spells I had learned. Any spell, any spell at all, any that looked strong!

I reached for a glowing rune, raised it up and imbued it with power, and spoke its name to release it. I didn't even know what it was, I had no time to look in my memory for the symbol, I just cast it. It was all I could do.

Purple energy surrounded Alyssa, who gave a short shriek and froze in place.

Slowly, she began to change, began to shrink, no, not just shrink, she was getting younger! I saw fear in her eyes, then it faded to a total lack of comprehension and finally it was replaced by a child's innocence. A cute girl, around three years old, stood in front of me. She looked at me with eyes wide and said “Mommy?”

Thirty-five

Stacy had watched the transformation with a totally incredulous stare. She said “Wow,” and blinked, “did I just see what I think I did? Was that you?”

“Afraid so,” I said, regaining my composure, “and not even a bit sorry for it.”

“It's poetic justice, in a way,” Stacy said, “she has chosen an evil path, but some good was left in her. Now she has a second chance.”

I pulled up a spell, visualized it and spoke the word, and with a click the handcuffs came loose. I dropped them on the floor and rubbed my wrists.

I nodded, looking at it that way, I had found the best spell imaginable for the situation. I really hadn't wanted to kill her; I had not forgotten that she had let me get away. “Maybe that was the one decent thing she's done in her life,” I mused.

“Anyway,” I said, “we have some decisions to make. One adversary is gone, but we know there are others who want me, and if Alyssa isn't successful, they will send someone else. We have surprise on our side right now, but I don't know how long that will last.”

“We also have a three year old girl that we can't just leave here.” I said. “Stacy, this is going to be a hard decision. If you come with me now, you will probably leave this life behind. I don't think you can come back here until this is resolved, and by that time, this,” I motioned around the apartment, “is probably not going to be here anymore.”

“I'm not expecting you to give up your life and your job to help me.”

“But, if you stay, they could come to you, looking for me. They have shown themselves to be deceitful and evil, resorting to violence to get their way. You might be in danger if you stay.”

Stacy said, “I had already made up my mind when you called. I'm with you all the way. Look at this, what do I have? I have a low paying job, a small apartment and no one to share it with. My family is not speaking to me because I love women. I can't see my life going anywhere here.”

“You have shown me a world of excitement. Sure, there is danger, but that looks much better than boredom, from where I stand.”

She smiled and continued, looking at me, “And I'd much rather be with you!”

That got me. After that one remark at the very beginning, she hadn't let on that she might be feeling this way, and I had thought it was just something said by way of making a compliment.

I smiled back at her, but didn't know what to say, so I gave her a hug and she turned it into a kiss. We were interrupted by Alyssa, when she said “Mommy?” again.

I guessed that was me. Oh God, what was I going to do now?

End of part nine

Edited by Kristine Roland

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Thirty-six

My head was spinning as I was thinking through the implications of the past hour. I didn't know what to do, but I was making a valiant effort not to panic.

I made a brief list, just like I always used to do, to get my thoughts in order:

- Alyssa was no longer a threat
- We still needed to get out of the area and consolidate things
- Stacy had decided to come with me
- There were things to recover from Alyssa's house before she was missed

Not a very ordered list at this point, but a first attempt to put my thoughts in order.

I spoke to Stacy and we agreed we'd have at least a day, maybe more, to get a head start on anyone who might be looking for us. Alyssa must have been working alone, if she hadn't, her backup would have stepped in.

Having Alyssa with us was actually working in our favor; they would be looking for a single woman, not two women and a child.

We agreed that we needed to get fake ID made up, because we could not afford to leave a paper trail. Problem was, neither one of us had ever had to deal with fake IDs before, and magic wouldn't help us here. I had read about reality-adjusting spells, but that was heady stuff I wasn't quite ready to try. Unfortunately, I had never seen a fake ID spell; I doubted there was such a thing. So we had to get fake ID the old-fashioned way; through the criminal element.

Thirty-seven

Elsewhere, Charissa smiled. This was going better than she had thought. That spell was a beauty, good enough that it could have been her idea. This unexpected outcome would make something else a lot easier. Charissa sent out some spells and sat back to watch things unfold.

Thirty-eight

Mike, a drug addict down on his luck, felt compelled to steal a car. Not just any car, it was in an upscale neighborhood he would not normally go to. Tonight was a first. He arrived stealthily, closed in on the car and produced a slim jim he had kept up his sleeve. Within seconds, the car door opened and he slid in, closing the door to make the light go out.

He swiftly detached the snatchbar that was hung from a loop on his belt, twisted the hardened steel screw into the ignition lock cylinder and slid the weight back, hard.

The cylinder popped out with a satisfying crunch.

He used a large screwdriver to crack the top of the glove box off the dashboard, reached in and pulled the wiring harness off the immobilizer. A clamp shorted out a couple of wires and the plug went back on, after that, the very same screwdriver started the car.

He drove off at speed, this was a nice car and he could easily get some good stuff for it.

Mike failed to see the oil slick and lost control of the car, riding up on the sidewalk and hitting a tree straight on. The exploding airbag stopped his head from hitting the window. He swore, grabbed his screwdriver from the steering column and left the car behind, fleeing on foot.

The car, left with the ignition turned on, began to smoke, then flames licked up from under the hood and soon it was burning brightly.

Dave, the fire chief, filled out the forms on the car fire they had just put out. He didn't even realize that he wrote that a female driver had been recovered, badly burned, declared dead at the scene and sent to the morgue.

Jim, the coroner's assistant, was bored out of his mind. He had zoned out for a moment when he suddenly remembered that there was something he had to do. He pulled out a form and started filling it out. He described a woman having been killed in a single car accident and burned beyond recognition. He attached the toe tag to a burned Jane Doe who had come in today and slotted the report into a holder on the gurney.

The dead woman was provisionally identified as Alyssa Harrows, aged 29, by the registration records of the car she was recovered from. A search for dental records was started, but none were found.

Police were dispatched to her registered address, where they found no one home.

Thirty-nine

Charissa looked at her handiwork, and declared it a success. The adult Alyssa's existence was nicely wrapped up, with no one the wiser. She had exhausted her energy for the moment, but she had averted an investigation that could have become awkward.

Forty

“We need to recover Alyssa's books,” I said. “They are a treasure trove of magic and it would be foolish to leave them behind.”

“How many are there?” Stacy asked.

“Erm. About 1500. Give or take two.” I attempted a bit of weak humor.

“Are you crazy? Fifteen hundred books, would you care to tell me where you want to put them, and how you will get them there?”

“I don't know. We have to find a way. It's just so important to have them. They are my only shot at learning magic.”

“I guess they are. But I'm not quite convinced we can do it.”

“We have to. 'If' doesn't come into it.”

“That's what you say”

“Yeah, that's what I say. Now quit arguing and let's put our minds to it.”

“Aren't you forgetting something?”

“What?”

“Someone, really,” Stacy said, “like Alyssa?”

I looked across the room at the naked girl who was blissfully playing with her much too large clothing.

“Oh!” I said.

Forty-one

Stacy got us settled down in her living room and put out some chips and juice. Then she left to get some clothing for Alyssa, because we couldn't really be seen taking a naked girl outside.

Alyssa was rather quiet, exploring the apartment and I only had to tell her to leave the drawers and cabinets closed a few times. She ate some of the chips and I poured her half a glass of juice, which she handled quite well with a bit of help, without spilling any.

I was at a total loss as to what I could possibly do with a child that age, I had been a bachelor and children didn't figure much in my life. No one I was close with had small children, so I was facing a very steep learning curve.

Fortunately, Stacy had returned with some clothing and got Alyssa dressed in panties, a skirt, a shirt, knit pantyhose and black mary janes. She produced a brush and brushed out Alyssa's long hair, and then she pronounced her ready to go out.

Stacy pulled a case from her closet and began packing some things. Clothing, pictures, mementos, everything went into the case in a rather disorganized pile. Closing the case was difficult; it took quite a bit of pushing and pulling to get the zipper to go around. Another one was filled the same way, then she started putting shoes into plastic bags. I grabbed a bag and helped, while Alyssa tried her best to unsnap the snaps on the second case. Of course they were under so much tension that she never had a chance.

Finally, after about an hour of frantic packing, everything Stacy valued was packed up and ready to go. We took the cases and some bags she indicated as being the most important things downstairs and loaded them into her car. I noticed she had also bought a child seat and remarked on that being really good thinking, which made her smile a happy smile.

We went back and loaded more bags into the trunk and the back seat of my car, and then we went back upstairs to survey what was left.

It was still a lot of stuff, and this lot didn't even include anything from Alyssa's house yet.

I said, “Stacy, we need a U-Haul.”

Stacy looked around and nodded, and then she said, “If I rent it and return it here, it won't point to LA.”

I agreed and we set off in her car, because it had the child seat. Strapping Alyssa in turned out to be quite a chore; there were 5 belt ends and no manual. I finally found the right order to combine 4 of them and was able to snap the fifth one onto that. With an audible click, the latch engaged and I adjusted the lengths of the belts. Stacy took a look and chided, “That is way too tight, she can't move at all. You're supposed to secure her, not tie her up.”

Stacy then loosened the belts' adjusters some and got into the driver's seat to drive to the nearest U-Haul rental point.

Stacy rented a Household Mover 24' truck and drove it back to her place, while I followed in her car. We reloaded everything from the two cars' back seats and Stacy's trunk into the truck, and then got the rest of the things from the apartment into the truck as well.

After 2 hours, we were thoroughly exhausted, but Stacy's possessions were in the truck with lots of room left. Stacy wasn't happy about having to leave her car, but it could be traced back to her, so keeping it was not a good idea.

At this moment, Alyssa decided to announce to the world that she was hungry, and we decided to get her some chicken nuggets and fries to take care of the problem. She tucked in and was soon smiling happily again.

Forty-two

Alyssa had fallen asleep in her car seat and Stacy and I were having a talk about what we would do next. She agreed that we needed to retrieve the books from Alyssa's house. While I held that getting all books was the most important thing, Stacy was of the opinion that we could take a selection of books if space didn't allow taking all of them. I argued that I could not possibly make a selection without reading them and that it would be easier to just grab them all.

I found out that Stacy was feeling pretty tired and didn't relish the thought of loading 1500 books, give or take two. I wasn't sure if I could do something about the weight, by magic, but I was sure going to try.

We would have to break into the house, since I didn't take a key when I ran. It was near dusk by now, and we made our way to Alyssa's house. Strangely, her car was absent, we hadn't seen it at Stacy's house either.

I took the truck's tire iron and went to work on the door, which creaked and complained, but finally gave up. The door swung open and the now familiar green shimmer of the wards filled the door frame.

I reached for the spell and spoke the word, making the wards turn off.

Once inside the house, I cast a spell to detect magic and numerous objects were showing in multicolored lights. Her house sure was full of magical objects, but I wouldn't know what they all were. Some might be dangerous in themselves, or lead the Council to us. I decided against taking any magical object unless I was sure what it was.

The study desk, which was also magically warded, yielded an envelope like the one Alyssa had given me, but larger, and it also was filled with cash. A quick count showed about $7000, mostly twenties. I showed Stacy and we quickly stowed the envelope in the car.

I remembered a certain book, which I was allowed to study at one time, and pulled it off its shelf. It contained various small spells and one of them, I remembered, made things lighter. I found the spell and cast it on all the books in the room.

Suddenly I felt very tired, sat down at the desk and passed out.

Stacy was shaking me and I slowly pried my eyes open. “Ronnie, wake up!” she said.

I said, “am 'wake,” and tried to close my eyes again.

“Ronnie!” said Stacy, “get your act together. We don't have all night!”

My mind slowly got back into gear and I stood up from the desk.

Stacy said, “You really had me worried for a bit there. You were out for, like, 20 minutes.”

I said, “I think it's the power drain of lightening all these books. Like my transformation, it seems expending magical energy makes me tired, just like doing physical work.”

I knew that was something I needed to remember, and watch.

We found that the books weighed only a fraction of their real weight now, so we were able to pile them into the boxes that had come with the truck and carry them outside with minimal effort. Because we weren't limited in the height we could stack the boxes, we were able to make optimal use of the space in the truck and finally stowed the last of the books with a little room to spare.

We were both at the end of our rope, having worked for pretty much 6 hours straight. Weight or not, that wasn't easy. We allowed ourselves the luxury of a break and then got into the car and truck and left.

A few miles down the road, we stopped and discussed the next move. Stacy was in favor of getting a motel room, while I would just as soon have driven on into LA. We argued back and forth, and Stacy finally mentioned Alyssa. That won the argument, because I didn't fancy making the trip with an unhappy three year old, which Stacy was predicting we would have on our hands if we didn't find a place to rest.

We used some of the cash to get a room at a motel at the edge of town. The motel featured a parking lot that could not be seen from the street, which would have to be good enough to hide the truck.

We got into the room and fell into bed, Alyssa between us. No one bothered to undress. Very soon, we were dead to the world.

End of part ten

Edited by Kristine Roland

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Forty-three

I woke up because Alyssa had decided that the easiest way out of bed was to climb over me. I caught her by the leg and said, “Missy, that's not nice to climb over sleeping people.” Although I was trying to give her a stern look while saying that, I couldn't help giggling a moment later, when the absurdity of the situation hit home.

A few months ago, I had thought I might be a father one day, now here I was, “mommy” without even being a mother! “Well, I do have all the right bits for that now,” I mused, “but no, let's not go there!”

Alyssa laughed about the expression on my face, and that woke Stacy. A look at my watch confirmed we've had all of 5 hours of sleep. Not enough for the old me, although the new me seemed to cope just fine.

Stacy won the race for the bathroom, leaving me to roll about and play with Alyssa until she was done. I actually felt pretty good; some of Alyssa's carefree, childish mood must have rubbed off on me.

When Stacy was done, I made a beeline for the bathroom to relieve myself and freshen up. By now, sitting down had become second nature; I rarely gave it any thought at all. I stepped in front of the mirror, brushed my hair and pulled it together with a scrunchie, applied a bit of lipstick and pronounced myself ready.

Lipstick was about as far as I had taken the makeup thing on my own. Something within me stubbornly refused to accept that makeup was a proper thing for me to wear; also I thought I was already feminine looking enough without it.

Stacy's opinion differed, of course, but she didn't push it and we packed the cases we had taken up to the room and went downstairs. The motel didn't serve any meals, so I just paid for the stay and we found our vehicles. I strapped Alyssa into her seat while Stacy went to start the truck.

Backing the truck out from behind the building turned out to be tricky, so I had to walk beside the truck, telling her which way to turn the wheel. Finally, the truck was on the street and I got into my car and joined Stacy on the road.

Being the one who knew where we were going, I overtook the truck and set course for Los Angeles.

Forty-four

Some miles along the road, we stopped at a fast food place and got ourselves and Alyssa something to eat. She took to the food well enough and ate with a healthy appetite while making a mess of the table and herself.

All we had to take care of things was some thin paper napkins, so we had no choice but to leave with Alyssa looking like a chainsaw murderer. At least we knew it was only ketchup, but we also knew we would have to do some clothes shopping, and soon.

I clicked on the radio to listen to some music and we drove for a while. Alyssa, having eaten, had fallen asleep again. In a way, I envied her. She didn't have a care in the world.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a newscast on the radio: “In other news, there are no new developments in the case of the mystery girl who claims to be a California congressman. She was found on the streets of Hollywood, dressed in ill-fitting clothes, accosting strangers with her strange story of transformation. As sources have reported, her behavior is not what we would expect of a congressman, though, even in Hollywood. Police are looking for the congressman in question, who seems to have vanished. The girl is being held for questioning at this time.”

I signaled to turn off at the next opportunity and pulled off the highway, with Stacy following. We stopped and I got out to talk to her. “I just heard a news bulletin on the radio. Seems another guy got transformed. A congressman, so it's high profile enough to make the news. She's being held for questioning while they're looking for the congressman. Apparently no one gives any credibility to her story, because she seems to behave like a slut. They didn't say it in those words, but knowing what the curse is, that is the only thing they could have meant.”

“It'll be a one-day wonder in the news. We need to get to the girl once this dies down a little. This could be an important break, and we might be able to help her. Well, you might be.”

“Yes, we know the spell parts that modify her behavior can possibly be broken. I'd hesitate to experiment on a person, but I don't think I have much choice. We're her best shot, I doubt anyone else cares.”

“Yeah. Let's head on, I'd like to get there before dark.”

“Ok.”

We got back on the highway and continued our trip.

Forty-five

“This won't do!” Stacy said.

“I know.” I said, in a subdued tone. “It was enough for myself, but I understand.”

Surveying the room I had at the residential motel, it looked a right mess.

“This looks like a bachelor pad!” Stacy said. “I'd never, ever, think a woman lives here!”

“Well, miss smarty-pants, you're right! If you remember, I'm not what you'd normally call a woman!”

“Oh? Last time I checked, you looked pretty female to me!”

“So what? You know what I mean! I wasn't born that way, wasn't raised that way. How would I suddenly become a Susie Homemaker?”

“Well,” Stacy snorted, “you could have made an effort!”

I gave her a sheepish look “I guess.”

Forty-five

Stacy soon had me working alongside her to straighten up the mess I had made of the place. Clothing piles were sorted and made ready for the Laundromat, litter collected and bagged and things were put away in what little space I had in that room.

We also got Alyssa out of her dirty clothes and I took a roll of quarters and a load of sorted clothing down to the Laundromat, while Stacy stayed in the room with Alyssa.

When I came back with the laundry, Stacy had spent some time talking to Alyssa. She filled me in on what she found out. “She knows her name is Alyssa. She remembers no past events, or people. She considers you her mother; she knows what a mother is, and all her other knowledge and perception seems to be in line with a girl her age. I think we can think of her as having amnesia.”

“Sure makes it easier to deal with her, as opposed to remembering her real background.” I said. I didn't want to say too much in front of her, so I didn't get further into it.

We got Alyssa dressed in her now clean clothes and went out to get some fast food yet again. Stacy said “We've got to stop eating like this!” with a smile, and I grinned, getting the pun.

Seriously, though, I was aware that things had to change, what with a child around, living off fast food was simply no longer an option. We needed to get a place, and we definitely needed to get some paperwork.

We resolved we would hunt for an apartment to rent first thing in the morning. Alyssa got a bed made up from blankets and sheets on the floor and Stacy and I skipped under the covers of the double bed. Sleep soon took us.

Forty-five

I woke up from the incessant beeping of my cheap little alarm clock. A couple of swats with my eyes still closed put paid to that and I dragged myself out of bed. Stacy still lay there, sleeping, and I took a moment to watch her while I pulled myself together mentally.

Then I used my advantage of being up before Stacy to avoid the bathroom race. Business done, I splashed some water into my face and quickly toweled off. I put on the obligatory lipstick, brushed my hair and I was done. Returning to the bed, I softly shook Stacy awake.

She blinked and looked at me, then she seemed to focus on her surroundings and she rolled out of bed with a sigh and headed for the bathroom.

Needless to say, she took a fair bit longer. She was nicely made up when she came out, a reminder that I would also have to learn how to do that. I wasn't looking forward to that; it seemed to be such a waste of time and money. Well, considering that I wasn't planning to appeal to any men, anyway.

While Stacy looked through the cupboards to see what I had in the line of edibles, I fired up the PC and connected to the internet. Google yielded a huge list of realtors; I could see this would be hard work.

Switching applications, I called up the email program and opened my old email account. I was pretty sure no one knew who my news contacts were, so I felt safe to mail one of them about the case of the “mystery girl.”

Hi Pam,

Yesterday I heard on the radio that there is some girl who claims to be a congressman changed into a woman. I'm interested in this case, if you come across anything, I would appreciate if you could pass it my way. I promise, scout's honor, if and when the story I'm chasing breaks, you'll be in on it.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Ron

I clicked “send” and watched with a bit of trepidation as the outbox emptied again. If Pam were to ask about the reasons for my interest in the story, I would probably have to come clean. I dreaded that moment, it felt like I would totally give up on ever becoming myself again; well, my old self, anyway.

Stacy had finished rummaging around and declared. “Ronnie, there is absolute no food fit for human consumption here!”

“And no kitchen to cook it, if I had any,” was my reply.

Stacy shot me a look that made me realize that I had put my finger on the issue and I redoubled my efforts to find a few realtors who had suitable apartments for rent.

Stacy asked “Where's the store around here?”

“There's a 7-eleven in walking distance a block to the south.” I said.

Stacy said “Be right back!” and breezed out of the door.

I pulled out my mobile and called the first number.

Needless to say, the call was a fiasco. I had no explanation why we needed a place fast, no explanation for us being two women and a child and in the end I was told I would have to produce ID to rent anything, anyway.

I'd definitely have to get our story in shape fast, if we wanted to get any viewings today. I pulled out a piece of paper and started putting down some facts, then shifted them around mentally to try and make a sensible story out of them.

By the time Stacy came back, the gears in my head had ground to a halt; I simply had no idea how to take the hurdle of having no ID.

Stacy had picked up some bread, cheese and jam and started to set the table for breakfast. She woke Alyssa, who had begun to stir by then, and took her to the bathroom to wash up. She then got her dressed and sat at the table, where I joined them.

While we ate our frugal breakfast, I told Stacy what had happened and she agreed that it would not be easy to find a place to rent in a neighborhood where Alyssa would be safe unless we had ID.

I realized I had forgotten about Alyssa again. I felt ashamed, I was supposed to be the girl's mother and her very existence kept slipping my mind. I wondered if this body just didn't have a “mommy” gene, but when I voiced my concerns to Stacy she laughed and said that my need for tampons was proof that I was all woman, genetically. In a more serious tone, she calmed me down and told me that I didn't have these hormones and the upbringing all my life, and I was probably still refusing to accept who I was, and that I should be patient and cut myself a little slack.

I got back on the computer and saw a flashing envelope icon, telling me I had mail.

Hi Ron,

Now why do I think there is more to this than meets the eye? That's a pretty far-fetched story; it makes me wonder what you know that I don't know. I have something about it right here on my desk, but I have to be bribed to give it up. With a Lunch, maybe?

Pam

There it was. The moment of truth. The thing I was afraid of. But I had to do it. No choice, really. Then it hit me. “Stacy!” I said, “I have a solution.”

“What solution, and for which problem?”

“The ID problem. Pam is a reporter. I have yet to see a reporter who doesn't have a source for reasonably good fake ID!”

Stacy nodded and said, “Great idea!”

I started writing:

Hi Pam,

I hope you're sitting down. If you're not, have a seat. I really don't want to be responsible for you hurting yourself.

Yes, I have a vested interest. You guessed right. I know for a fact that these transformations are real. I believe the girl is actually the congressman.

How do I know? Easy. It happened to me, too.

Yes, it's true, I'm now a woman. Now that you know, I'd be delighted to have lunch with you. If you'd still have a weirdo like me.

Ron (who is now Ronnie)

I hit send and watched the message zip away across the net, waiting anxiously for a reply.

End of part eleven

 

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Forty-six

Hi Ron,

Now that has to be the number one weird story of the year.

I just know you're pulling my leg. You're not the guy I would ever imagine having a sex change, so what are you trying to pull here?

Tell you what, I'll bite. Let's meet. Today. The bistro across from my office, at one.

I guess I'm still a sucker for a story.

See you there!

Pam

That was the message that arrived mere minutes after I sent my last email to her. I quickly typed a reply.

Hi Pam,

I will be there. You won't recognize me but I'll know you. See you then.

Ronnie

I hit send and turned to Stacy. “She's willing to meet. Today, at one, near her office.”

“Ok. We need to get you ready,” Stacy said, looking at the time, “it's already 11:30.”

“I'm as ready as I get,” I said.

“Oh no, you're not. You can't go to lunch looking as you are. Now, come on over here and let me help you get presentable.”

“Ok, Stacy, I'll play. But hold the girly stuff, that's just not me.”

“Just get your ass over here!” Stacy said with a smile.

I got.

Forty-seven

I cast a worried look at the array of war paint Stacy had dumped on the vanity from her makeup bag. I was not about to have her doll me up, but from the looks of that stuff, that was just what she was planning to do. Weapons of war, and all that. With relief, I saw her pick a handful of items out of the pile, then push the rest aside.

“Look at me,” Stacy said.

I looked at her and she quickly brushed some powder over my face with a large, tickly brush. She then took what looked like a black pencil and said, “Close your eyes.”

I pressed my eyes shut and Stacy said, “Not like that! Just close them lightly. Don't screw up your face.”

I wasn't too keen on this whole operation, but i complied and Stacy started drawing on my eyelids. Of course I twitched, which made Stacy curse and wipe the stuff off me again. The next time, I tried to hold still, and succeeded a bit better. A few more tries and Stacy pronounced my eyeliner done and told me to open my eyes again.

She then took a tube of mascara and attempted to make more of it get into my lashes than on my lower lids. I suppose I had the art of batting my lashes down pat; I batted the mascara brush right out into left field. So, off came the goop, and Stacy had to redo the liner on that eye as well.

Fifteen minutes later, Stacy finally had my eyes at a point where she was willing to let me leave the room. She brushed another powder, a blusher is what she called it, on my cheeks and told me to do my lips. I could do that myself, at least.

I went to the mirror and took a first look at my face. “Not bad. It took a lot of work but I guess I do look good,” I thought, as I applied my lipstick.

When I came out, Stacy hat pulled a simple white blouse with some decorative stitching from her bag and laid it out on the bed for me.

She said, “Wear that with your jeans, and a pair of flats, that should look good on you.”

Actually, that wasn't too far away from what I used to wear, as clothing goes. I slipped on the blouse, fumbling around a bit with the wrong-sided buttons, pulled up my jeans and slipped into the shoes.

Stacy pushed my handbag towards me and I grabbed it, glad I had someone to think about that for me. I knew I would have run out without it, then would have had to come back to get my car keys. I'm just not used to handbags!

I would have preferred to have Stacy with me, but of course there was Alyssa to take care of. We couldn't really take her, so one of us had to stay home. That meant I was on my own.

I got into my car and headed west on the number 10 freeway. I left the freeway at Century City and turned into the street where Stacy's office was located. I was lucky to find a parking space and got out, locking my car. Then I had to open it again to get that pesky handbag. Relocking the car, I dropped the keys into the handbag and placed the handbag on my shoulder. Checking my watch, it was 12:45; I had made good time.

I found the bistro, ordered a cafe latte and sat down at a table from which I could keep the door in view. I settled down to wait for Pam, sipping my coffee.

Forty-eight

A few minutes before one, Pam came through the door, looked around the place, shrugged and sat down at a table across the room. She ordered coffee and a bagel. I saw her watching the door, never really taking her eyes off it. I waited a few minutes, until she had her order and taken a sip of the coffee, then I took my glass and crossed the room. I pulled out the other chair from under her table, sat down and said “Hello Pam.”

Pam stared at me, speechless, then she said, “Hi.”

I looked at her and said, “I guess this is a little hard to believe.”

“Damn right!” Pam said, “It sure is. You don't look a bit like Ron, not even Ron-with-a-sex-change. So, give me one good reason why I should not just get up and walk out of here.”

“Well, we can't play the game of telling childhood secrets, we don't know each other well enough. So I suppose I can't easily prove it's really me. But I know one thing about you. You're a reporter. You can't resist a story. And I have one hell of a story to tell. So there's your good reason.”

“Fair enough,” she said, “that is a good reason. So, tell me what happened.”

“I can't tell you the whole story. Well, at least not here. Once you heard what I have to say, you will understand. Also, you can't print any of it. Not yet, anyway. I'm in danger and I can't have the public eye on me. I'd be dead before morning.”

Her eyes widened involuntarily as I mentioned danger, then she said, “Ok, go on.”

“It all started when I met this gorgeous girl and took her home. She was really throwing herself at me, I didn't have to work for it at all. It was like she was seducing me, not I her.

“We had a night of exceptionally good sex. She left before I woke up, leaving a note. It said 'Thank you. And Sorry'. I had no idea what she was talking about, but over the course of the next couple of days I transformed into the woman you see now.

“It was some sort of magic that seems to cause this woman to turn every lover into a woman. I have traced her path across the U.S.; she's leaving a string of transformed women in her wake. I caught on to it because of a strange pattern of young, healthy, beautiful women suiciding.

“After I transformed, I was able to get a correlation between male disappearances and dead females. Whatever it is that makes these men turn into women also makes them want to kill themselves. Up to now, I have failed to find a survivor.

“Our congressman is the first transformee I know of who is still alive. Outside of myself, of course.”

Pam looked at me and said, “I have a feeling there is more to this than you are telling me.”

“As I said, I can't really talk here. Do I have you interested enough to let me finish the story elsewhere?”

“Yes. I have to admit, I didn't know what to think. The thought that I was being set up for a joke crossed my mind more than once. But I remember those disappearances and suicides. You emailed me about them. So I know that part checks out. I have no idea who you are. But I smell a story, and I'm not letting it get away. Lead on, McDuff!”

I stood up and stepped out of the bistro, with Pam following close behind. I walked to my car and hit the button on the key to pop the doors open. I got into the driver's seat and Pam got into the passenger side.

“The car gives us a little more privacy,” I said. “Well, there is more to it, of course. The congressman's behavior, for one. She would be behaving like a bitch in heat, trying to get into the pants of every male she sees.”

“Yes. Actually, that is a pretty accurate description of it. And I didn't tell you that.”

“You didn't have to. See, the transformation is magic. Not nice, Disney fairytale magic, it's gritty, bad, real-world magic. The spell these poor girls are under forces them to behave like a two bit whore, while at the same time loading them down with so much self-loathing that they eventually suicide.”

“Who would do something like that? And why?” Pam said, shocked.

“That is what I'm trying to find out. That is the story I'm offering.”

“Ok, you got me. Hook, line and sinker. This is big. Proof that magic exists. Enchanted people. That's heady stuff. Pulitzer territory. But, one thing. Why weren't you affected?”

“I knew you were smart. Was really just a matter of time before you'd stumble on that. Yes, I was not affected by the secondary spells. I happen to be immune against certain aspects of it.”

“Come on! I can almost taste it, you're hiding something. Spill!” she said.

I briefly thought about the situation and decided that I had to trust someone. It might as well be her, at least she would be on our side until she had the story. Hopefully past that, too.

I looked at her and said, “Yes. Ok. Here it comes. I'm immune because the spell didn't turn me into just any woman. The spell turned me into a sorceress!”

Pam stared at me, eyes wide open. Her jaw dropped and I reached out and gently pushed it up with my finger.

She recovered and said, “So you can do magic?”

“Afraid so,” I said. “But I'm only learning.”

“Wow.”

We were silent for a moment, then I said, “We need paperwork. Good fakes will be enough. We need to rent a place to stay. That would be myself, a friend and a small child.”

“Why don't you conjure some ID, then?” Pam asked.

“I can't. I don't know a spell for fake ID. I doubt one exists. I don't think they had ID when this magic was discovered.”

“So, what's with the child? I won't be part of any kidnapping!”

“Don't worry. It's rather complicated, but I can assure you the kid is legit. Her name is Alyssa and she's three years old. She thinks I'm her mother.”

“And why would a child think that?”

“Pam, you're never satisfied, are you? Ok, she was an adult sorceress, an enemy. I turned her into a child to neutralize her. Turned out she identifies me as her mother now and I'm stuck with her.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry all that much. I believe you. Let me see what I can do to get you some paperwork. I will need pictures of you and some background. Birth dates, Hometowns, etc. The sooner I get that, the sooner you can have your ID. It will cost you, I'll let you know how much.”

Pam was all businesslike now. She had a lead on a story that had the potential to make her career take off and she wasn't about to let it get away. She would be in our corner for the time being. I was happy that we had made a useful ally and bid her goodbye. She got out of the car and I started the engine and headed home.

Forty-nine

Meanwhile, the Council had discovered that Alyssa was missing. A representative sent to her house had found the house empty and devoid of books. A quick query of the mortal's databases yielded a report of an accidental death of one Alyssa Harrows.

The Council then appointed Raven to look for Veronica, the assassin, and bring her in. Raven was a stunningly beautiful sorceress with long, straight black hair, which she had taken her name from. She was one of the council's most capable minions and she stood to gain much from this. Bringing in Veronica could mean moving up the table into Alyssa's seat.

Raven began the painstaking and complex task of building a detection matrix, an array of various enchanted stones, connected by lines of spell energy. This matrix would take at least a week to build and it should allow to trace certain kinds of magic.

Like magic books.

Fifty

Elsewhere, Charissa fell back on her bed, spent. It had been very difficult to follow events in the world, since they were unfolding so quickly. She had little energy left, certainly not enough to do what she would have liked to do. In the end, she had been able to focus long enough to send a burst of concentrated energy across the dimensional gulf.

In a cabinet, in a house, somewhere on earth, a flawless ruby gained an almost invisible crack.

End of part twelve

 

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Fifty-one

We compiled a list of the personal information that would be needed to make our fake ID. I chose to be Veronica Katherine Hall, Katherine being my grandmother's first name.

Stacy became Stacy Elisabeth Hancock, keeping her real first and middle name. Alyssa became Alyssa Marie Hall, thereby connecting her to me via the common last name.

Documents would show her as being my daughter, father unknown.

We found a shop where our pictures were taken, and I met Pam after she was finished at work, passing her an envelope containing our notes, the pictures, and a substantial amount of cash.

Pam promised to call me as soon as she heard from her friend, who had a connection that could provide such services.

We agreed to meet for dinner the next day at her place. Pam lived alone, having given her no good live-in boyfriend the boot several months ago, just after finding that he was dipping into the couple's savings for his boozy nights out with the guys.

I went back to the motel and filled Stacy in on the developments and told her about our dinner arrangements. Having nothing else to do, we watched some TV and went to sleep.

Fifty-two

Oh, the joys of motherhood!

Bright and early, I was woken up by Alyssa's insistent tugging on my blanket. Although I felt like swatting her and going back to sleep, I realized that that would be very wrong and reluctantly got out of bed.

Stacy still slept, undisturbed by my getting up, so I pulled myself together and laid claim to the bathroom. I dressed Alyssa in the one change of clothing she had and got myself ready to go out. Jeans, a white top with cap sleeves, white flats and a hint of lipstick were put on in short order, my hair brushed and teased into place, then I woke Stacy.

We didn't have any decent food and of course the room hadn't sprouted a kitchen overnight, so we set off to visit yet another fast food place for breakfast. By now even I hoped that we would soon have a kitchen and food in the house.

With everyone fed, we set out to get a few more changes of clothing for Alyssa. Stacy had some limited experience with shopping for childrens' clothing, I had none at all. We must have looked really helpless, but fortunately a saleswoman spotted us and, eager to earn a commission, started to praise the shop's wares.

We left her very happy with the sales she made, since we purchased several complete outfits and some separates as well as shoes and underwear. It cost a tidy sum, especially because we hadn't really invested much time in looking for a store; we just went into the first one we saw.

We used the opportunity to expand my meager wardrobe, at Stacy's insistence even buying some things I could not possibly imagine myself wearing. Well, not until I tried them on, at least.

It was still with some misgivings that I entered the women's changing rooms, I felt like an intruder in this feminine reserve. Stacy had to almost push me inside as I hesitated crossing the threshold.

Once inside, Stacy handed me one thing after another, all the while keeping up the sort of chatter one would expect between friends who went out to shop. I played along, ad-libbing responses to her talk about nonexistent events or people while slipping on one piece of clothing after another.

I wasn't about to make a scene, so I had little choice but to take what I was given and model each and every piece.

Well, ok, on some skirts i claimed that I couldn't get them closed, but then I was caught by Stacy, her simply stepping inside to help and discovering it was actually a perfect fit. I turned beet red and stopped trying to cheat after that.

Meanwhile, Alyssa was running around the changing room area, occasionally looking into a booth and eliciting comments about what a sweet little girl she was. She did always return to my booth, though, which made me happy, somewhere deep inside. She looked at me with adoring eyes and I could almost feel her wanting to be like me when she grew up. I felt things I had never felt before in my entire life, feelings I had not learned to cope with as a child. I pushed them aside for now, but I knew I would have to work out that part of my emotions, and soon.

After a while, trying on clothes didn't feel so bad anymore, and by the end of our shopping trip it didn't feel wrong or even too unusual. Of course they were female things, but I didn't exactly look male. I was even able to appreciate the way things looked by looking at the woman in the mirror as if she was another person. Of course I knew it was myself, but taking that step back gave me a better appreciation of how good some of these things looked on her. Me. Whatever.

We left with a largish number of shopping bags, after having gotten some strange looks. Not for what we bought, or because anyone found anything unusual about me, no, we were looked at somewhat askance because we paid cash. Apparently, in the big city, paying anything over $20 in cash was pretty much unheard of. Regardless, they took our money and we left, Alyssa in tow, and returned to the Motel.

Stacy wanted me to change into some of the new things, but I put my foot down, telling her I wasn't her Barbie doll. She gave me a hurt look and laid down on the bed, watching TV and sulking.

I turned on the PC, checking my mailbox, but found nothing of interest. I tried to surf around for a while, but my heart wasn't in it. Finally, I turned off the computer and joined Stacy on the bed.

Stacy turned around to face away from me and pretended to be busy studying the pattern of the wallpaper.

I said, “Stacy, I'm sorry. I was out of line to say that when you were just trying to help. Please understand that this is all new for me, and it scares me. I'm afraid I'm losing myself.”

Stacy turned around and looked at me and I could see a hint of a smile in her eyes. She said, “Ronnie, you are so perfectly natural as a woman that I sometimes forget that you weren't born that way. I don't mean to scare you, and you can't lose yourself, because that's who you are. No matter what body you have, or what clothes you wear, you are you.” Then, she lowered her eyes and said, “And I like you a lot.” She smiled at me and reached out to pull me into half a hug.

She said, “And now, let's get you ready for that dinner.”

My head was spinning, I was adding up things and couldn't believe what I thought she had just said. Her remark about liking me in this form, her preference for women and now this, said with her little smile, made me believe there could be a real chance for romance. I wondered if I was ready for that, and part of me wondered if that curious half-woman I saw myself as even deserved happiness. What a mess I was!

Fifty-three

Stacy introduced me to the intricacies of putting on powder and blusher, showing me where to brush on the blusher to emphasize my cheekbones. She did my eyes again, and we did take fewer tries than last time to get it to a point Stacy would accept. When I started to put on my lipstick, Stacy stopped me, saying “You don't want to put that on just yet. We'll be trying on a few things and it's too easy to get it on your clothes of you change quickly.”

Stacy really wanted to see me in a skirt, but I resisted, putting up the argument that it wasn't a dinner out, but just a private dinner at a friend's house. She argued that that was as good a time as any to try it, and that I would not embarrass myself if I made a mistake, unlike in a public place. I said that I'd be embarrassed to wear one in the first place, which she countered by asking me if I had liked the image in the mirror when trying them on.

I had to admit that I did, but I told her I wasn't ready for that yet. She finally relented and I wore a pair of jeans with embroidery on the pockets and some leather patches, a white blouse cut somewhat like a man's shirt and ankle boots. When I put on my denim jacket, Stacy mentioned that I dressed a bit like Melissa Etheridge. I didn't know who that was, but I was soon told that she was a singer and somewhat of an icon in the lesbian scene. She took the time to play “Bring me some Water” off her mp3 for me, and I noted that the lyrics could be read to fit either a female or a male partner.

We bundled Alyssa into the car and drove to Pam's house. Pam was already expecting us and the delicious smell of dinner filled the house. Dinner was chicken breast with vegetables. I was so happy to get some real food, even if it was such a girly meal. Despite really loving the taste of it, I found that I was full after finishing my plate, I didn't want the seconds my old self had almost always needed.

Alyssa also looked quite content, having eaten with a minimum of assistance. Of course we had cut the meat for her, but it seemed to me like some of the poise of the adult Alyssa had survived in the child. She certainly had better manners than most children her age I had ever seen.

Dinner done, we sat Alyssa in front of the TV and quickly rinsed off the dishes, which were then deposited in the dishwasher. We returned to the table and Pam produced another bottle of the wine we had with dinner, refilled out glasses and we settled down to retell my story, with more detail.

I filled in the gaps the short version had left open, however I didn't mention the books at all. I also didn't mention how proficient I was with certain kinds of magic, or how much strength I could muster if I was cornered. I don't know why I held back, but I felt there was a reason for it, and Stacy followed suit once she caught on.

All that time, Pam had sat quietly, intently listening to our story. After I finished she sat back and looked at me. She said, “If I didn't know better, I'd say that you're pulling my leg. But what you're telling me fits all the facts, and in my job, nothing is impossible. Although, I must say, I thought i'd seen it all, but this is something new.”

She went on, “What I would like to see is some magic. You've been talking about all that magic, but I haven't seen any. Can you do anything, here?”

I said, “I suppose I can give a small demonstration.”

A quick look to the TV showed Alyssa fast asleep on the big pillow that Pam had put down on the floor in front of the screen, so I figured it would be ok to do some harmless magic. As I looked at Pam and smiled, I levitated the bottle of wine, letting it go around the table and topping off all our glasses. Then, I set the wine down where it had started out from, and, with a wide grin, made a light appear at the tip of my right index finger and said “Phone home...”

The light blinked out when Pam and I cracked up laughing, and Stacy joined in a moment after. Alyssa stirred and cast a sleepy look towards the table, as if to say “Adults are so silly,” then promptly fell asleep again.

We pulled ourselves together and, after regaining composure, Pam said, “Wow. I just can't believe it.” She reached for her wine and quickly downed half her glass, then sat back and repeated, “Wow!”

Fifty-four

“So what all can you do?” Pam asked.

I said “I don't really know, to be honest. This is all new to me and it's not like I had real training. I don't know what my limits are and I don't know a lot of spells. The only thing I'm really good at is levitation. For all that's worth.”

Pam said, “That's a hell of a lot more magic than I can do!”

She went on, “Anyway, my turn. Ive done a bit of snooping for you, and this is what I've come up with. Around the time we had the suicides, we have one male disappearance where no body was found. Like the other ones, we found that some items were taken from his apartment, in an orderly fashion, but the closet was a total mess. As if someone was frantic to find something to wear. So, I'm pretty sure there is an earlier survivor.

“As for the congressgirl, rumor has it that she's going to be committed. We think it's to get her out of the public eye, to avoid scandal. She's in a sorry state, they say. They have not let her see any males at all, because with only female company, she remains somewhat composed. She still has what one would term a one track mind.

“She has stopped claiming her male identity, it seems the desire to prove who she is has been subsumed by her desire for sexual contact. She doesn't talk about much else.

“She's been charged with soliciting and indecent exposure, has been arraigned yesterday and is currently held at the county jail women's facility. She wasn't offered a plea bargain, which is extremely unusual and points towards them trying to keep her under wraps. Her counsel has entered a plea of not guilty.

“If you want to get to her, you'll have to bust her out of jail.” she concluded.

“Assuming her spell is like mine,” I said, “I will not be able to turn her back into the man she used to be. If we were to bust her out, I can give it a try to break the spell that keeps her mind locked up. If I can't break it, she will probably suffer the fate of the others, sooner or later. If I can, we would then have a congressman who has been turned into a woman. She'd probably try to get media attention; do we want that?”

“Certainly not,” said Stacy, “it's the last thing we need right now.”

Pam said, “He would be worried about losing his position, his wealth, outside of having to deal with being a young woman. If we can provide a way for that to be preserved for him, we might find him more cooperative.”

“Her,” Stacy said, “it's her. That part of the spell is definitely irreversible. We should get used to talking about her using feminine pronouns.”

“All this gender bending it getting me confused. But you're right, I'll try.” Pam said.

“With the congressman missing, his property will be held for him for a while. Depending on how well things are set up on his end, he may not lose anything for a few months at least.” I said, “His position is another thing. I don't think it will be possible to return to where he was in his new body. She isn't who the people voted for, if they were ready to accept a young woman, they would have voted for one. So, even if she was shoehorned into his position, her very constituents would oust her again as soon as they can. She needs to come to terms with that.”

Stacy said, “But how can we make that easier for her? She would be in a pretty scary situation. Surrounded by strangers, in an unfamiliar body, facing the loss of her office, and unable to access her money and other resources. If I were her, I'd panic!”

“Yes,” I said, “we can't even try that without qualified help. A psychiatrist would be best, that would give us the option of drugs, if needed.”

“My uncle is a psychiatrist,” said Pam. “I don't know if he would help. He is somewhat curious and open for new things, but this is so different from anything else, I just can't tell. Let me give him a call tomorrow and see if he is interested. Don't worry, I'm not going to tell him everything, but please be ready to come at a moment's notice, in case he demands proof.”

“Ok,” I said, “let's do it that way.”

With that, we said our goodbyes, picked up the sleeping toddler and left for the motel.

Thoughts were whirling around in my head as I was considering the possibilities and weighing our options. Somehow I had thought we would have to go it alone, but it seemed like we had the core of an organization forming here; maybe we would be able to help others, too, and eventually track down the source of the spell.

With these thoughts, I fell into dreamless sleep.

End of part thirteen

Edited by Kristine Roland

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Fifty-five

When a touch awoke me, I was half expecting it to be Alyssa, trying to tell me that she needed food or attention, but I was pleasantly surprised to find it was Stacy who was softly stroking my back.

I turned around to face her and looked into her eyes. She reached across me and pulled me in for a kiss. Her tongue probed my lips and I opened them slightly, allowing her to enter my mouth with her tongue. When she did, I shook off some of the passivity of my slumber and returned the embrace, pulling her in closer and returned the kiss.

I felt the stirrings of passion, long missed, as my hands started moving up and down Stacy's back while we continued to kiss.

When we broke the kiss, still holding on to each other, I saw Alyssa stirring, as if awakened by our movements. Stacy looked at me and said, “That has been missing from my life for far too long.”

I looked at her and said, “I'm afraid. I'm lost in here,” motioning at my new body. I didn't know where that had come from, it's not like I used to be able to say something like that easily. I had found, over the past months, that my emotions were different from before. Ever since I had my first period, I had become more emotional, crying more easily. I had taken my mind off it, and off my emotions, by concentrating on things outside of myself, but I felt I had to face my changes now. And I was afraid of that, very much afraid.

For the moment, Alyssa took up our attention and I was able to leave off thinking about these emotional things, concentrating on helping Stacy to get some semblance of breakfast ready.

I found a text from Pam on my phone, it was very short and cryptic. “Papers OK. $2500” is what it read. I took out an envelope from it's hiding place, counted out $2500 from it and put the envelope away again. I folded the money to push it into my jeans pocket, but I found the pockets on my jeans were too small. What use are pockets you can't put anything into? It seemed feminine clothing meant having lots of make believe pockets, flaps and zippers. My jacket's pockets were sewn shut under their flaps, too.

I finally got out my handbag and placed the $2500 in the zippered compartment and closed the flap over it.

I gave Pam a ring and we agreed to meet for lunch at the same place. I indicated that I agreed with the text she sent and she promised to get things started right away.

We spent the morning looking at more apartment listings. While we could possibly afford a nice place in an upscale neighborhood, I didn't want to attract the sort of attention that someone moving into such a place would undoubtedly get. We were looking for a place at the lower or mid range, possibly in West Hollywood, where two women with a child would not be seen as unusual it all. “Even if they kissed,” I thought with a smile and a tingle that was quite pleasant to enjoy.

We found a few places we bookmarked, then I had to leave for my lunch meeting with Pam.

I drove to the bistro and found a seat at the same table we met at last time. Pam walked in a few minutes later and we ordered a pair of lattes. I reached into my handbag and took out the money, which I had placed in an envelope I had picked up on the way. Handing the envelope to Pam, I gave her a questioning look, to which she responded with “Tomorrow, at lunch.”

I smiled and thanked her for her help and we sipped our coffees.

“Did you phone your uncle yet?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Pam said, "I was planning to do that tonight."

“Great. Let me know how it turns out.” I said.

Then Pam said that she had to go back to work and we said our goodbyes. I got back into the car and returned to the motel.

Fifty-six

Stacy had gotten it into her head to teach me some more make up. I wasn't really happy with that, because with this morning's thoughts, it only served to make me realize that I still had an elephant in the room that I had been tiptoeing around.

Yes, I still was a woman, and I was going to be one for an indefinite period of time, likely forever. Memories of happy times as a boy and man flashed through my mind as I contemplated the fact that that man had been eradicated from the world. To all others, Ron was dead.

My eyes wouldn't stay dry, which made my attempts at using eyeliner and mascara fail miserably. Finally Stacy realized that it wasn't my ineptness alone, but that my eyes kept tearing up, and stopped her lessons.

We laid down on the bed, since the room lacked a sofa, and I snuggled up to her, putting my arm around her shoulders.

Fortunately, Alyssa was occupying herself with a pad and some crayons, which we had bought for her in the last shopping spree, giving us a moment to talk without distraction.

“Why are you crying?” Stacy asked me, while taking my free hand.

“I'm crying for the boy I was,” I said.

Stacy gave me a sympathetic look and squeezed my hand softly. “I would like to say I understand,” she said, “but I can't. I'm trying so hard to help you. Please talk to me.”

“This morning, I realized that I have been avoiding dealing with my change. I have been quite happy to not think about it anymore than I had to, to get dressed or use the bathroom.

“The kiss made me realize there is more to life than the practical things; that is something I had pretty much ignored all this time. And now, make up lessons meant having to deal with an aspect of the new me that I would just as soon not deal with.

“One that I would just as soon not have to deal with.”

Stacy looked at me and said, “There is one thing you have, that you couldn't have had before.” She smiled and said, “Me.” and pulled me into a kiss.

I decided to forget my concerns about Alyssa seeing us, because that was fast becoming inevitable anyway. I returned the kiss with passion, feeling that pleasant tingle start up again.

We kissed for a while, then I hugged Stacy tight and my floodgates opened, pouring out all my fear and despair.

I felt like I cried for hours, with Stacy murmuring soft words of solace, before I pulled myself together again and dried my eyes. The black eyeliner stains on the tissue just brought it home to me once again, and I could not keep myself from resuming my crying.

Finally, I had cried myself out and cleaned up a little bit. Stacy got up from the bed to tend to Alyssa, while I, exhausted by my crying, fell into a light slumber.

Fifty-seven

The ringing of my phone yanked me out of the confusing, illogical and incoherent dreams I was dreaming. Still sleepy, I answered it.

It was Pam, telling me that she had called her uncle. Her uncle was a bit of a crusader, she said, someone who could be depended on to take the underdog's side each and every time.

She had told him about the mental condition we would expect the congressman to be in without letting on what it was about, just asking if he would be interested in helping a severely traumatized, disoriented individual who was being mistreated by the authorities.

Of course, with it having been presented like that, he had little choice, and staying true to form, had pretty much agreed to help without having any more specifics.

She had called to let me know that it would be best if I were on hand when he was told all of the details, and gave me the address to come to.

I got out of bed, which also ended nap time for Alyssa and Stacy, the latter of which had curled up next to me.

I got to the bathroom first and washed my face, putting on the lipstick as I always do. I then crossed the room to the table and, using the little mirror there, tried to put what Stacy had tried to teach me in the afternoon to good use. I actually managed a pretty good line with the liner; well, ok, an acceptable one. I silently had to agree, that it did really make me look a lot prettier.

I got dressed in jeans and a sweater, since the evening air had cooled down quite a bit, and Stacy, who was also ready by now, carried Alyssa down the steps to the car. I strapped her in and we got underway to the address Pam had given me.

On arrival, I unclipped Alyssa's seat belts and took her by the hand. Locking the car with the remote, we turned and walked up to the front porch of a large, detached house. The house emphatically said “Well off” about its owner, it was just the sort of house one would expect a doctor to live in.

Before we could ring the doorbell the door opened and we saw Pam with an older man with graying temples, but still a full head hair. His craggy face broke into a smile as he held out his hand to us. We shook hands and he motioned us inside and through the hallway into a well appointed living room. We took seats on the sofa he indicated and he let himself sink into an armchair that was unmistakably his.

Pam made the introductions, “Veronica, Stacy, this is my uncle, Jack. Jack, these two are Veronica and Stacy, with Veronica's daughter Alyssa.”

“A pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Introductions made, he said, “So, my niece tells me you're championing a cause.”

“Well, in a way we are,” I said, “but a very unusual one.”

Pam said, “To cut to the chase, Veronica here,” she motioned to me, “was not born a woman.”

“So it's about gender issues? I don't normally do those, but I'll try to help.” Jack said.

“Partly, yes,” I said, “but maybe not in the way you think.”

Stacy picked it up, saying “See, Uncle Jack, Veronica didn't really ask for it. It was involuntary, and it's a complete transformation, down to the genetic code.”

“That is not something I have ever heard of before,” said Jack, “it sounds like science fiction.”

“Worse, it was magic,” said Stacy.

Jack looked at her, somewhat taken aback. “Magic...” he said, “are you sure you don't need my services in some other way?” He did have a slight twinkle in his eye, but also a worried look as well.

“No, Uncle, magic is real. It's all too real,” Stacy said and went on to explain how I got transformed and what had gone wrong with the spells. Finally, she wrapped it up, telling him why. “Veronica wasn't affected in the same way as the others because her ancestors are themselves magical. The magic runs in the female side of the family only, so she wasn't magical as a male. Turning her into a woman also activated the latent magic and made her a sorceress.

“Because of that, she became immune to the bad part of the spell and didn't turn into what the person we want to save turned into. Which leads us to the last revelation of the evening. The person in question.

“Remember hearing about the girl who claimed to be a transformed congressman? Well, it's true. She is him, and it's being hushed up. She'll wind up in some institution, or worse, unless we act.”

“Hmm,” Jack said, “that does sound serious. But you have to excuse me for being a bit skeptical about magic. It's not every day you have a sorceress sitting on your sofa. So, can you prove any of this?”

Jack pulled out a cigar, commenting, “Excuse my bad habit.”

He sat back and rummaged in his pocket for a lighter.

I used the opportunity to conjure a small flame right by the tip of the cigar, which instantly caught fire and. Jack gave a startled look, then puffed on the cigar to get it going and I released the magic, causing the flame to go out.

“Hmm,” Jack said, again. “Now that was quite impressive. Especially since those are my cigars and I know you couldn't have prepared one. But will a bit of fire help with the problem you have come to me for?”

“No,” I said, “but I can do a bit more than fire.” To be on the safe side, I set a ward around us, which appeared as a greenish glow closing off all openings.

Jack gave an expectant look, but said nothing.

I used a vision spell I had read up on and prepared to project the vision of the congressman turned girl in her cell. Then I moved the focus outside to the two female guards in front of the cell, then out of the building and around the compound.

“This is her. We are seeing her as she is now, I am using what is called a vision spell to see things far away,” I said.

“Now if you could only find a way to get her out of there,” he said, “we could possibly do something.”

“Does that mean you're in?” asked Pam.

“I suppose I am. I'm really getting too old for adventures, but I'd be a fool to let this one pass me by,” Jack said.

Stacy and I looked at each other with a happy smile, then I said, “I think I will be able to get her out.”

I stood up and then used a trick I had secretly practiced. I levitated myself, flying up under the ceiling. I said, “I think I can get over the wall and into the compound. If I can somehow get close enough to touch her, I can port out of there, to a target set up for our return.”

I floated back down and took my seat again.

“That might be workable,” said Jack, “indeed, it might be.”

Fifty-eight

When we left, we had Jack's assurance that he would help us in any way he could. Our small group had grown to four people already. And a toddler, of course.

The next day, I briefly met Pam for lunch at the usual place and received a manila envelope. Back at the motel, we emptied it onto the bed and found that is contained birth certificates, driver's licenses and social security cards for both of us. It also contained a birth certificate for Alyssa.

With that out of the way, finding a place had to be the order of the day.

I got out the list of apartments we had found and called up each of them. Some had already been rented, others told us, in no uncertain terms, that they would rent to either a single person or a couple. Finally, I was able to get a viewing for a two bedroom apartment in West Hollywood. Situated between Sunset Boulevard and Santa Monica Boulevard, at the western end of West Hollywood, the place didn't seem, to be too bad.

We got into the car and drove to Havenhurst Drive. The building, Havenhurst Lanai, was a 1970s apartment block. A hollow square of apartments surrounded an empty, cracked pool in the dilapidated courtyard.

We met the agent out front and he showed us into the upper floor front apartment. The place didn't look too well maintained, but was not dirty or unhealthy. When I asked about rent and availability, I was informed that I could have it immediately, first and last month's rent would get us in. I counted out the rent money and the agent took down data from our ID. The contract was signed and we got the keys. The agent then left us to look over the apartment. A small, old but serviceable kitchen, a larger master bedroom, living room and a smaller guest or child's bedroom made up the apartment. The rooms were connected by a small hallway with a door leading on the outside walkway going around the building.

The master bedroom featured a largish built-in closet and the small bedroom also had a correspondingly smaller one. The living room was large enough to hold some book shelves, but we would not be able to put in much more in the line of furniture to have space for all the books.

We talked about it and agreed to look over the books and leave those that we didn't need, or couldn't use yet, in boxes stacked against the wall in the bedroom. This would give us enough space to use the living room for more than just a library.

There was some furniture in the apartment already. The master bedroom had a queen sized bed, while the smaller one had a double. There were nightstands, a vanity and the living room had a sofa and a coffee table. There was a small dining table in a corner of the living room, which we moved to the kitchen area to make room for the shelves we were going to get. That left enough space for one person to prepare food, and room for our small family to eat.

I gave Stacy my car keys and she left to get the truck with the books and our belongings. Meanwhile, I got out a box of chalk I had picked up for this purpose and began writing runes onto the walls and the window and door frames.

Every set of runes, once completed, flared up with a greenish tinge and became invisible when its word of power was spoken. This way, I went all around the outer walls, floor and ceiling of the apartment, warding it against break-in, fire, water and anything else that might befall.

Next, I went around again, drawing different symbols. These would contain any magic used inside the place to its walls, so no one who cast a detection magic spell would be able to see it. I didn't intend to have our place stand out like a beacon to those who would harm us.

Finally, the familiar green haze covered all openings. I had tested this with Stacy and found, to my surprise, that the wards were invisible to normal people. My precaution of turning off the wards at the motel was totally unnecessary, because people could not have seen them anyway. “Well,” I thought, “better safe than sorry.”

I finished warding the apartment and, sat down on the sofa. Alyssa was still going around the rooms, opening and closing doors, cabinets and drawers. Suddenly, I heard noise from the kitchen and jumped up to see Alyssa emptying the cutlery drawer on the floor. I quickly picked her up, chiding, “Alyssa, that is not a toy. Those things are sharp and you can get hurt. Now go and play elsewhere.” I sat her down and gave her a playful swat on the backside and she toddled off, no doubt looking for more mischief to get into.

I picked up all the cutlery and put it back into the drawer, then thought about it again and dumped it all into the sink and put the empty drawer back into the cabinet. We'd have to wash everything here first, anyway. I idly wondered if there was a dish washing spell.

Stacy returned with the truck and came up to knock on the door. I opened it and let her in, then gave her the spare set of keys. They were now spelled to turn off the wards on the door, since Stacy wasn't able to do that the magical way.

She had brought some of our personal items as well, and also brought the blankets and sheets we had used to make a bed for Alyssa. She made up Alyssa's bed and we laid her down for a nap. Soon, she was out like a light after the excitement of the afternoon. Stacy and I made a few trips to the truck, bringing some cases of books in.

We would both have preferred to have the other stuff up here first, but the books were loaded last and that means they had to come off the truck first. When we were exhausted, we sat down on the couch and cuddled for a while. It felt good to have someone in my life again; it filled a deep need I had suppressed for far too long. Stacy seemed to also felt this need, and we soon started kissing passionately. With Alyssa in her bedroom, napping, we couldn't take it very far, but I felt really good for the first time in a long while.

We had accomplished so much in such a short time. After fate had cruelly slapped me down, I had not only managed to recover, but I had found a cause to fight for, and maybe even love? I dared to entertain that thought for a moment, leaving my troubles behind and riding the wave of emotions.

All too soon it was over and we had to tend to Alyssa's needs. That meant going out for fast food, since we could not take the truck back to the motel just yet.

We returned to the apartment and settled down to the tedious, mindless task of carrying boxes from the truck to the apartment. Each time we passed each other, we smiled a secret smile, which made that task more bearable.

We took a short break to put Alyssa to bed, and then we continued unloading the truck deep into the night. It took 8 hours of hard work, but finally the entire contents of the truck were stacked willy-nilly throughout the apartment.

We pulled some blankets from one of the boxes from Stacy's apartment and made up a makeshift bed. We both fell asleep as soon as our heads hit the mattress.

End of part fourteen

Edited by Kristine Roland

---

 
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Fifty-nine

We woke up to the prospect of a busy day, but neither one of us was in a great hurry to get started. I had a stiff neck from sleeping without a pillow, but Stacy soon made me forget about that with a long wake up kiss.

Soon we were stroking each other's backs and sides, while laying tightly pressed together and locked in a kiss. I got tangled in my blanket and kicked it off the bed and Stacy pulled hers across to cover us both.

My hands roamed over Stacy's body as I was beginning to feel aroused myself. I felt for Stacy's nipples between our bodies, brushing against my own in the process, which sent a pleasant tingle through my body.

Stacy's hands also began to explore my body, playing with my nipple briefly and then moving on toward my nether regions. I tightened up apprehensively; no one had ever touched me down there in this way before. But I resolved that, if anyone would touch me there, Stacy was the one I wanted.

Stacy's hand arrived at my crotch and slipped down into my panties. I tensed when I felt her hand passing the waistband, then the first wave of pleasant sensations hit me. I let out a small gasp and involuntarily tightened my fingers on Stacy's nipples.

Stacy grimaced, but didn't say anything and I, realizing that I had hurt her, let go of the nipples immediately. Stacy gave me a push that made me roll onto my back, her right hand still somewhere in my sensible cotton panties.

Stacy propped herself up on her left elbow, resting her head on her hand, and continued playing with my nether lips.

My right hand, almost of its own volition, sought out Stacy's panties and easily slipped inside. Here I was on familiar territory; this was something I had done before. Stacy shuddered slightly as my fingers hit the spot.

Stacy used her fingers to part my soft folds and slipped a finger inside, picking up a bit of moisture and then questing for the sweet spot. She found it in short order and I let out a gasp, followed by a soft moan.

I lost concentration and stopped my ministrations as the new, unfamiliar sensations hit me. Stacy skillfully manipulated my new sex into swamping me in new sensations, wave after wave and one more pleasurable then the other.

A small, still rational part of me attempted to compare these sensations to what I used to have as a male, and had to admit that the feminine feelings were by far superior.

My hand lay next to Stacy, forgotten, as I savored the waves of pleasure that built up to an almost unbearable tension, before breaking and flowing over me, wave after wave, making me thrash and moan as Stacy skillfully played the instrument I had been given.

I must have screamed, because when I became rational again, my voice was hoarse and my throat felt dry. I got up to get some water, but found I had to sit back down because my world was still spinning.

Wow. Double wow. There and then I decided that that was definitely worth accepting a period for. I never imagined women had it so good.

I felt invigorated in a strange way I had never experienced before, as a man or a woman, and slight giddy with the surplus of energy I seemed to carry.

When I started to perceive my surroundings again, I realized that, despite the wards, I was feeling other people with powers as far as 3 miles away. Before, my detection range had been about 200 yards on a good day.

I was amazed and told Stacy, who surmised that my feminine magic was supercharged by having sex. A few small experiments showed me that I had almost twice the power I normally had.

It was then that I remembered that I had stopped pleasuring Stacy when I was overcome with my own sensations, and I decided to try something new.

I softly pushed Stacy to signal to her to lie back down on the bed, and began using my hands to pleasure her nipples.

Stacy was visibly enjoying my ministrations when I formed a probe from my magic and directed it at her waiting pussy. I directed it between her folds and to that most sensitive place, where I made it palpable and began using small motions to stimulate her.

Stacy looked down and saw my hands still on her nipples. Her eyes opened wide with surprise, and then she smiled as she realized what was happening. She let her head fall backwards and surrendered to the three fold stimulation I was administering.

A short while later, I switched the magic stimulator to her right nipple and moved my left hand between Stacy's legs, where I continued to stimulate her until her own orgasm took her.

She climaxed three times before looking at me with exhausted, but satisfied eyes and I switched from direct stimulation to soft stroking and caresses, moving up for another kiss.

We lay there, kissing deeply and wrapped up in each other, enjoying the afterglow, when the alarm in my cell phone started to beep softly.

Rather than letting it build to full volume, I broke the kiss and fumbled on the floor for the phone, pressing the “stop” button and turning back to Stacy for an extra dose of snuggles.

Sixty

The next thing we knew was Alyssa knocking on the bedroom door. Damn, we had both fallen asleep again. Looking at my watch, it was 9:30am, not overly late, but later then we had planned.

I got out of bed, not even now willing to concede the race for the bathroom to Stacy. I quickly finished up, brushed my hair, applied eyeliner and lipstick and returned to the bedroom to face the new day.

I did realize that I had adopted yet a new feminine thing, wearing eyeliner as a matter of course. But, thinking back to this morning, being a woman didn't seem all that scary anymore. If it was all like this, it wouldn't be bad at all.

Stacy got into the bathroom while I helped Alyssa to get dressed in yesterday's worn clothing. I wasn't looking forward to getting the place moved in, but I knew I had little choice there. We went out for breakfast, since there wasn't anything to eat in the apartment, and then we got into the truck, where a very excited Alyssa got to sit in the center seat, held by the adult sized seat belt.

We both knew that wasn't allowed, but the alternative would have been to make a couple of extra trips, which didn't fit in well with the time we used up this morning.

We arrived at the motel and quickly stuffed everything into the bags it had come out of. Some boxes from the truck were filled with the foodstuff from the table. Everything just fit into my car, using the trunk and one rear seat. The other was taken up by Alyssa's child seat and Stacy would have to sit in front after we dropped off the truck.

We headed out of LA, back to where it all started. Later that day we returned the truck and I found that we had to pay a substantial bill for the length of time we had used it. They were even going to levy a fine for not calling in to extend the rental, but I was able to convince the clerk that it was a series of unfortunate events that led to us needing the truck for so long. She relented and we got off by paying the fees in cash right there.

Stacy got into my car and I headed back to LA. It was getting late and I didn't fancy arriving in the middle of the night, so I cast a spell that would keep the car and us from being noticed, and floored it. We sped through the night and I didn't know whether it was because of the spell or dumb luck that we didn't get a speeding ticket. We arrived around 10pm, just in time to put Alyssa into bed again.

She fell asleep almost immediately and I stood in the door, looking at her sleeping like a little angel. Then I joined Stacy in the bedroom, where she had started unpacking some essentials and placing them in the closet.

Sixty-one

We went through the bags from the motel quickly, putting the wrinkled, smelly clothing into a big pile. We each made sure to have one outfit left to wear in the morning, but it was clear that at least one of us would be spending the morning at the Laundromat.

We went to bed around an hour later and tried for a repeat of the glorious lovemaking we had enjoyed in the morning. We were tired and it didn't reach quite that level, but I was vibrating with energy and tired at the same time when we were done.

I found out that being at peak magic levels didn't keep me awake because I fell asleep while still kissing Stacy.

Morning found us spooned into each other in the clean sheets Stacy had put on the bed the evening before. It felt really good and I luxuriated in the feeling of clean linen on my smooth skin.

Stacy awoke from my movements and we shared a long, deep kiss before getting up. For some reason, I didn't feel like a repeat of the morning before at all. My wires were humming with magical energy and I was feeling more alive than I had felt in a long time, but I seemed to have lost any interest in sex.

Stacy seemed to pick up on the mood and didn't even try to engage me in anything sexual, so we just went through the usual morning routine, sharing a caress or a kiss here and there. It was early, around 7:30am and Alyssa was still fast asleep.

Stacy popped out to the store to buy a couple of things for breakfast and soon the smell of bacon and eggs cooking filled the apartment. I woke Alyssa and helped her to get dressed and we joined Stacy in the kitchen for breakfast. I had piled a couple of pillows on the third chair, but we would have to get a high chair soon.

Breakfast done, we grabbed the bags of laundry and got in the car to drive the short distance to the nearest Laundromat. We were the only people there and just loaded up 6 washers with all our wrinkled, worn clothing. A small fortune in quarters was obtained and fed into the machines' slots and we settled down to watch the news on the TV hanging in the corner of the shop.

The news touched on a few items from world politics, then went on to mention that there was still no trace of the congressman who had gone missing a few days ago. A brief mention was made of a suspect being in custody who was accused of being connected to the congressman's disappearance, which was believed to be a kidnapping by the police.

While other news followed, I said to Stacy, “I don't think we have much time left. She's already just an anonymous suspect and the transformation story is old news. I think if we don't move quickly, they might just spirit her away and sweep this entire thing under the rug.”

Stacy nodded and said, “We need a plan.”

Sixty-two

Between my finely honed levitation skills, the wards that made me feel safe in using magic and my full charge of energy, unpacking the books turned out to be a snap. We had picked up some bookshelves at a second hand store and set them up in the living room and now I was standing in the middle of the room, making little gestures with my hands and watching book after book float out of the box and into its shelf. Each time a shelf was filled, I stepped up to it and read the titles of the books, touching the ones I thought I could not yet make use of, which floated away into an empty box. Then I pushed the remaining books together to close the gaps and set about filling the remaining space. At the end of three hours, about a third of the books were sorted into the living room shelves, with the rest in boxes stacked up against the bedroom wall.

Stacy was busy unpacking things from her old apartment and our place began to take on a lived-in look.

Clothing was put away into closets and drawers, toys were stowed in Alyssa's room and the empty boxes were collapsed and stacked up in a corner of the room. The apartment was beginning to look like a home. I felt really good; I hadn't had a home in a long time.

I retreated to the sofa and the three books I had extracted from the shelves during unpacking. The books were spell books I would need to pull off the jailbreak we were planning.

Stacy came over at one point, having finished her unpacking, and watched me read. Then she looked at the book and back at me, asking, “How can you read that? Those squiggles are moving and trying to hide from me when I look at them!”

I explained, “They're magical runes and if you don't have the magic to understand them, you can never learn it. They can't be studied by the non-magical.

Stacy shook her head and went to sort out the kitchen utensils and I heard her rattle pots and pans and wash the cutlery while I continued to study the spells I would use.

One of the spells was a small, old one that opened locked doors magically. With my skills at levitation and telekinesis, I could of course pick any lock, but that was a technical and possibly time consuming process. I needed to know how the lock worked and move its parts using my magic. An unknown type of lock would have stopped me dead.

This spell made things a lot easier. From portcullis to treasure chest, handcuff to padlock, this spell caused anything locked it was cast upon to become unlocked, anything closed to become open. This was really classical magic, requiring no knowledge but the spell itself to work.

It was one of the spells I had committed to memory at Alyssa's house, but I later found that I had not memorized it correctly, so I was never able to cast it from memory. I studied the spell, then turned to the padlock on the table and cast the spell on it. The hasp clicked open right away and I smiled, satisfied. I clicked it shut again to retry, but, to my surprise, found I had forgotten the spell.

After trying a couple more times, it was clear that I would not be able to cast this spell from memory more than once. When cast, the spell seemed to remove itself from my memory, leaving me with the memory of casting it, but no access to the spell.

I tried to copy the spell to a piece of paper to carry with me, but I was not able to use that method either. Looking at the piece of paper, I was able to piece together the word, but it had no effect at all. The spell only seemed to work when read directly from the book.

This was not the case for all spells, but a few of the older ones I came across in that book were like it. I paged through the book, which was more like an unorganized recipe collection than a school book, and finally came upon some notes that were written on a piece of paper stuck between the pages.

It described the effect I was seeing, saying that part of the magic if the spell was in the pages of the book and its ink. It mentioned a spell that allowed copying the spells from the book to scrolls, but gave no details. It went on to say that one mind could hold a number of spells from the book, including their magic, but each, after it was cast, would be gone. It explained a technique that could, over the course of many years of training, enable the retention of a few spells, so they could be cast more than once, but it appeared that being able to permanently remember more than 2 or 3 spells from this book was unheard of.

I sighed, because that book sure contained some useful things. However, the note was right; I found that I would forget earlier spells when trying to cram more into my mind. I finally settled on a spell that would allow me to move very fast for a short period of time and the lock opening spell. I followed the advice from the note, learning the more important spell last, because the last learned spell had a greater chance to be remembered.

The next book yielded a stun spell. This spell would render a person unconscious for a brief period of time. From notes on the page, it explained that mentally strong people, it called them strong souls, may not be knocked unconscious, but might only experience some brief disorientation. A note in the margin said that the spell was a drain on the caster and one should not attempt it when tired or exhausted, because it had been known to backfire.

By the time I finished the second book, my head was reeling. The book was a treatise on magical fighting, especially fighting mortals with magic. The stun spell was the only one I would want to use, because all the others were deadly, and some of them were extremely cruel. The sorceress who had compiled that book must really have had it in for humans!

The third book was on conjuration and travel spells. I learned that long distance travel by magic was possible, but not easy. Traversing the magical plane required lots of study, and was dangerous even then. Many had gotten lost using the travel spells, which is why they finally fell into disuse. A note on one page outlined the decision of the elders to remove the spells from the curriculum taught to new sorceresses.

I thought that to be a bit high-handed, it didn't really make these elders very likable, to control learning like that. I was brought up to believe that learning should be available for everyone willing to try. However, I understood that I would not have the time to become proficient in these spells, and would probably run too great a risk in experimenting without a tutor anyway.

I skipped the spell, finding notes about suppression of spells all over the book. Some spells were suppressed simply because they were deemed dangerous to society. This meant the magical society; I found out after a bit more of reading. It seems the elders suppressed any spell that would be useful to take away their power. I realized that the notes were colored by personal opinion, but even if only the facts from them were true, they didn't paint a pretty picture.

Finally, I found some spells that were not forbidden or dangerous. They required considerable preparation and some materials. I picked one that I found most suitable. It was a spell to return to a marker that was previously set. It took practically no energy or concentration to invoke, because it could be compared to a wound spring, which was simply released. All the energy was put into it at the time of creating the object.

To make this spell work, I had to choose an object. I picked up a vase from a shelf and set it on the table in front of me. This was going to be my anchor object. Using a piece of chalk, I copied the runes from the book to the table top, surrounding the vase with concentric circles of runes.

I also had to mark some runes on the vase itself, which was quite difficult with chalk, but I managed to make the chalk leave a thin, barely visible mark on the glass. It was enough, because all the runes flared up with a greenish glow and turned invisible.

I cast a magic detection spell and the vase showed to be magical, so it appeared to be a success.

I started in on the spell, which was to be cast on myself and the vase. I could literally feel the energy going into it get wound up like a spring, coiled and quivering with pent up power. I finished the incantation and the spell was locked in, ready to use.

I really wanted to test it, but it was at that moment that Stacy announced lunch to be ready and we congregated at the kitchen table. I lifted Alyssa, who squealed happily, onto her stack of pillows and we set about consuming Stacy's offerings.

End of part fifteen

 

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Sixty-three

Raven smiled a thin-lipped smile as she surveyed her handiwork. Fifteen gemstones floated in midair, connected by lines of force that were visible to a sorceress' eyes only. She had spent almost a full week making this matrix, a finely tuned instrument, so delicately in balance that any magical energy at all would shift it's energy flows and, by that, give away it's existence and location.

So sensitive was this matrix, that it could even pick up the energy inside of wards, and a ward was a spell specifically designed to hold in all energy and make it undetectable. Raven was one of the few sorceresses with the talent to tune a matrix this finely, a skill that had taken two centuries to master.

One thing, only one thing, was left to do; the matrix needed to be keyed. It needed to be touched by sympathetic magic, that means, it needed to be touched by something that had belonged to the quarry, or by a part of the quarry.

Raven smiled again, a cold smile that showed no sign of mirth. Raven was an avaricious woman, seeking to gain wealth, mostly by taking it from others by force or guile. In magical politics, she was a ruthless climber, aiming to supplant the leader of the Council eventually.

She opened the small box in which she had placed the hairs she had found at Alyssa's house. Hairs that just had to come from the assassin. She placed the hairs in a bowl that was floating underneath the centerpiece of the matrix, a huge, beautiful ruby.

Raven felt the resonance of the matrix changing as it readjusted it's energy flows to conform to the pattern of magic found in those hairs.

Raven placed her hands on the ruby and her mind dove into the matrix, aligning itself with it's forces and taking control of the flows of energy within it. Her mind tuned the matrix to begin her search.

Sixty-four

“Alyssa! Young lady, you come here this instant!” I called out.

Alyssa stopped fumbling with the door knob and toddled over to the living room table. She looked at me with her big eyes and I couldn't help but smile.

I said, “Here, play with your crayons. Color something in,” and pushed a coloring book across the table.

Alyssa opened the book to a page that was already decorated with a mess of lines in various colors, gripped a crayon and started pulling it back and forth across the pages, not at all respecting the lines of the parrot that was printed as an outline on the page.

I heard a key in the lock and felt the wards go down as Stacy opened the door and came inside. She pushed the door shut, failing to notice that the latch had not fully engaged and the wards had not come on. I only had eyes for her and also didn't notice the lack of magical protection around us.

She crossed the room to squat down next to the sofa I was lying on. I looked at her and she moved closer and into a brief, but passionate kiss.

At the back of my mind, I felt an unfamiliar sensation, a presence that I had never sensed before. Malice seemed to radiate from it and it was getting stronger. It felt like it was trying to enter my mind, pushing and probing, seeking for a way past my mental shields.

I reached for the tendril, as if to scratch an itch, intending to push it away from me, but something unexpected happened, something I had no control over. I reached for it, grasped it, and started to pull energy from it.

Power filled me as I drew the magic from the tendril. In an instant, I saw the tremendous source of energy that was contained in the floating gemstones I saw at the other end of the connection, and I saw the woman holding the ruby. I also saw her shocked and incredulous expression as she totally lost control of the matrix she had built.

A torrent of energy poured into me from those stones as they, one by one, fell to the ground, drained of their magic. The woman had let go and backed up against a wall, staring with an expression of dread at her disintegrating work. I completely absorbed the flow of energy until I could hold no more; I felt so bloated that I was almost nauseous, so I pushed the excess energy back into the link to the stones.

The images vanished as the link came apart and I was left tremendously charged with magical energy, and also with a need for Stacy, a hunger that I could no longer deny. I got up, pulling her to her feet and almost physically dragged her to the bedroom.

Sixty-five

Raven stood, her back against the wall, fighting within her mind to hold on to her life energy, which was being sucked dry by the matrix and the woman beyond it.

After many hours of seeking, she had suddenly and unexpectedly made a connection. She had probed to find out who she had connected with, and where in the physical world the person she had found was.

Her quarry had turned the tables on her, grasped her magical probe and held it fast, using it as a conduit to draw energy from her matrix.

Raven was aware of what was happening, she had seen this happen once before. 'Charissa!', she thought, as panic took over, 'Charissa was like that.'

Frantically, she worked her diminishing store of magical energy to create a shield for her mind, knowing full well that she would be sucked dry and die without protection.

So there was another. Centuries after the cataclysmic events that had nearly torn earth's secret magic society apart, there was another one. Another one like Charissa.

How Charissa came to be was unknown, she had never divulged what process could twist a sorceress into the equivalent of a magical bloodsucker, a vampire feeding on the energy of other sorceresses. One like the one she sensed at the other end of this link.

Raven calmed down a bit as her protections took hold, her mind no longer being drained to the point of death, and sidled along the wall towards the door.

It was then that the ruby flared up with a sudden burst of energy, which Raven was at a loss to explain. The stone glowed brightly for a split second, leaving en energy imprint on Raven's inner eye. This is when Raven noticed the thin black line neatly bisecting the energy field.

Raven opened her mouth to scream, but the ruby exploded before she could make a sound. Thousands of crystalline fragments sped outward, piercing Raven's body and carrying droplets of her blood with them, embedding them deep within the wall. Raven slumped down, her open eyes unseeing. On the wall, a reddish tint remained, showing the outline of her body.

Sixty-six

Our lovemaking had been different than the last times. I was the aggressor, bent on pushing passion to it's highest peaks. I was driven, insatiable, not stopping until Stacy begged, “Please, love, stop. I can't stand any more!”

There she lay, bathed in sweat on sheets that were dark with wetness, her eyes nearly closed in the afterglow of passion. The wild energy in myself had subsided a little, and a glow surrounded Stacy, one like I had never seen on her before.

A glow like the one I sensed around people with magic.

Weaker and unstructured, it was still the same energy. My energy. It seemed like I had transferred energy into Stacy, imbued her with magical force. I looked into Stacy's eyes, seeing the bliss if the afterglow, feeling my love pour out of my heart for her, and laid down next to her, holding her tenderly and covering her face with little kisses.

I whispered, “I love you,” as we both drifted off to sleep.

Outside, Alyssa was busy with her crayons and coloring book, blissfully unaware of what we had done in the bedroom.

End of part sixteen

Edited by Kristine Roland

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Sixty-seven

When I awoke, hours later, I was alone in the bed. I heard Stacy moving around in the kitchen and smelled dinner cooking. I briefly thought about the fact that I hadn't changed much at all on the inside, I was acting just the same way I have always acted. I felt no sudden impulse to become a homemaker, and I was a little sad when I thought about how I sometimes forgot little Alyssa even existed.

I was supposed to be her mother, the magic had made it so, yet I was so far from being a mother to her that I didn't even know where to start working on myself to actually become one. It seemed like those feelings didn't come with the body at all, else I should have had them, right?

In that respect, I felt I had failed miserably. I had failed at being a woman, at being a mother. But, since that was all I had now, didn't that make me a complete failure?

I tried to shake off these thoughts as I got up and joined Stacy in the kitchen, but she looked at me and realized something wasn't right.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said to me.

“They're not even worth that much,” I said, and then sat down at the table and proceeded to pour it all out to her. All my feelings of inadequacy and fear and especially my feelings on having failed as a woman.

Stacy looked me in the eyes and gave me a hug and a kiss and said, “Don't feel bad, you are so much more than just a woman, and you will grow into that role as well as you handled everything else. I believe in you. I love you.”

I resolved to give womanhood another try after that and when I told Stacy, I was rewarded with an extra kiss. Stacy then had to take care of finishing dinner and I set the table, and then went into the living room to get Alyssa.

Alyssa wasn't at the table and I didn't see her anywhere else. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a bit of movement and as I turned to it I saw that it was the apartment door. It was open,

Alyssa was gone.

Sixty-eight

Stacy turned off the stove while I ran into the bedroom to get dressed. We reached the door at the same time and squeezed through, running along the upper floor walkway in opposite directions, calling Alyssa's name. We met at the bottom of the stairwells to the left and right of the entrance and looked at the building's entrance gate.

The last time the broken and rusted thing had locked properly must have been some time in the eighties, right now it stood fully open and locked in place by rust and years of disuse.

No one here owned enough to care and the landlord probably didn't even know. Now it presented a perfect exit for a little girl to toddle out of the building proper and into the great wide world beyond.

Stacy and I exchanged a worried look and we burst out of the gate and down the steps, looking up and down the street.

“I'll take the left,” Stacy said and swiftly headed left, towards Sunset Boulevard. I went right, towards Santa Monica Boulevard. While I was looking left and right, checking the spaces between parked cars and looking for open gates on other buildings, I also cast out magical feelers to try and pick up a trace of her. Adults with powers stood out like beacons in my mind, but Alyssa didn't show an energy signature yet.

I knew her well enough to feel her presence at short distances though, but I lacked the skills to find her by purely magical means, so I did what mothers have done since the beginning of time; I looked everywhere, feeling scared for my child. My child. I remembered my thoughts I had earlier and I realized that I did have feelings for Alyssa. Now that she had gone missing, I had feelings of fear for her and of despair.

When I reached the end of the block, I was terrified. Santa Monica Boulevard was a wide street with heavy traffic, sidewalks with moving people, shops with gaudy signs advertising “entertainment”. I knew that this was the place where gay men would meet; it was not the place I wanted my little girl to be.

I cast my net again, but I didn't feel even a tenuous contact, there was nothing at all. It was then that I realized that one of the people I felt around me, one of those with powers, was my Stacy. I reached out to her across the half mile that separated us and found that I could connect to her energy. I sent a tentative thought to her, hoping she could hear me, but I didn't receive any reply. No indication she even noticed me being there.

With this connection, just like the other one earlier, I had some perception of the person I was connected to. I was able to see a bit of her surroundings, she had reached Sunset Boulevard, which was also a wide, busy street with pedestrian traffic.

I broke the link and concentrated on my own surroundings, I had to make a choice which way to go. Head right, towards La Cienega and the major intersection there, or left towards downtown. I cast out for Alyssa again, but I didn't find any trace of her.

I chose to go right, on an impulse, heading down the sidewalk towards the big intersection, my fear rising.

Sixty-nine

Suddenly, a thought struck me, and I turned around to head back to the apartment. I tried to contact Stacy again, trying to send a thought of returning home immediately. I didn't know if she could read what I was sending, but she didn't answer, so I put it out of my mind and tried to walk even faster.

When I reached the apartment, I realized I had not taken my purse with me; I had no keys. I did have the unlock spell in my memory, so I canceled the wards and used it on the door, which clicked open without complaint.

I headed straight to the bookshelves, remembering precisely the book I needed. What I needed was a so called “Vision Spell,” a spell that would let me see what had happened in the near past.

Stacy hadn't shown up, so she had probably not been able to receive my thoughts. I took the book and cast the vision spell, and the air shimmered for a moment as ghostly images from the past were superimposed on the real images of the present.

I watched little Alyssa getting up from the floor and walk around, then, as was her habit, trying the doorknob. She wasn't strong enough to twist it, but this time the door wasn't latched and opened easily under her touch.

She went outside and I followed, watching her run around back and forth on the balcony, then she went down the nearside stairs to the building's ground floor. I had a sinking feeling when I watched her play around the empty pool, an unsecured great hole in the courtyard, then she turned around and passed the gate to the street, heading down the steps.

I followed the vision of her down to Santa Monica Boulevard, turning left where I had chosen right. She walked down the street, looking wide-eyed at the sights that were to be seen there. My heart nearly stopped as I thought she would run out into traffic, and then she turned back to the safe sidewalk.

I noticed one of the shadowy figures looking at Alyssa oddly, and then she pulled out a phone and made a brief call. I lost sight of her as Alyssa went on, down Santa Monica Boulevard towards the far away downtown area.

A black van with a sliding door pulled up to the curb a little ways ahead. When Alyssa reached the van, the door opened and gloved hands grabbed hold of her, pulling her inside the van. I screamed in fear, making the people around me, the real people, give me concerned looks before moving on. In my vision, the van's door closed and it sped up the street, and, looking behind, I saw it stop briefly and collect the woman with the phone. Then it headed up the street and vanished in the distance. I pulled out my phone and quickly typed in the license plate of the van. I didn't know what to do with it, but I did, just in case.

Fear filled me as I raced for home, casting out for Stacy's presence while I did. I sensed her close to home and I ran faster, wanting to waste no time. Stacy and I reached the building almost at the same time and I pulled her close, between the sobs that had now started wracking my body I told her what I had done and seen.

We held each other for a moment, and then we went inside the building and into our home.

End of part seventeen

 

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Seventy

I read with an urgency I had never felt before in my life, first re-reading the door opening spell, then I looked through a list of spells I had noted down on my “look at later” list. This was a list of spells that I thought would be useful in the future, but I had no time to study now.

I was angry, so I selected some nasty spells from a book on offensive casting that I hadn't considered using before. Now I was in a frame of mind where I was not only considering using them, I was looking forward to having the opportunity to do so.

I found a number of spells that would be useful in a fight, but there weren't any that I could see to be of use in finding Alyssa or her abductors.

Another vision spell would pointless, because all I would see would be the inside of the van. I looked at the list of spells again, as if looking at it would make the right spell jump out at me. I had no luck.

I decided to take another look at the mystery woman with the mobile who had probably called in the people in the van. I concentrated and cast another vision spell, but nothing happened. I tried again, to no avail.

I searched through the shelves full of books, frantically looking for the one that I had found the vision spell in. Finally, I found it and opened it to the page where the vision spell was described in detail.

I read the remarks and footnotes and I found that no period in time could be viewed more times than there were persons involved. So, since Alyssa had been alone, there was no way I could view her running away again. Even down on Santa Monica Boulevard it would be of very little use, because it needed a focus, a person to attach to, to see what that person had seen.

Suddenly, the solution came to me. I called Stacy and explained what we had to do. I would cast a vision spell on the mystery woman.

When the van picked her up, she got in in front. She must have seen where they were going. We got into the car, with Stacy driving. I couldn't see myself trying to drive while seeing the past superimposed on the present, that was way too dangerous.

We went down to Santa Monica Boulevard, and I pictured the woman in my mind and cast the spell. My perception shifted as the vision took hold, I saw her getting into the van and saw the van pull off the curb, heading westward. I motioned to Stacy and she started driving. The vision moved at it's own pace, so I had to ask Stacy to slow down because we were actually overtaking the vision and I didn't know where to go.

I fervently hoped that we would not get into a traffic jam, because we could lose the vision focus up ahead and never find it again.

The van headed down Santa Monica Boulevard to La Cienega, where it turned left and passed the Beverly Center and the Motel where I had spent my first days in Los Angeles, passed under the Santa Monica Freeway and turned right on Adams Boulevard. It turned in to a side street and pulled into the courtyard of one of the blocks there.

We pulled up in front of the building and I ran to the entrance to see where they were going. I saw them enter one of the 2nd floor apartments, then the vision stopped.

I concentrated and scanned the block for the aura of a magic user, but, surprisingly, came up empty. I had been convinced that other sorceresses were involved in this, that this was part of the plot, but no one here had a magical aura.

I walked into the courtyard and looked up at the apartment, trying to figure out the best course of action, then I returned to the car to talk to Stacy and plan a rescue attempt. I felt invigorated at the prospect of being able to do something. The fear was still there, but there was also hope.

We talked back and forth and decided we would watch the building until nightfall, then we would make a rescue attempt and hopefully catch them by surprise.

Seventy-One

After an interminable 9 hours, night had fallen and we left the car to take a stab at rescuing Alyssa. We entered the courtyard and moved silently up the stairs to the door I had seen the woman walk into.

Listening at the door, I could hear no sound from inside. I had to assume they were all asleep, or at least not as alert as they would be in the daytime.

To be honest, I was a bundle of nerves and Stacy didn't look much better, but I also had a grim determination to do what had to be done, no matter what.

It was only after losing Alyssa that I realized that she had become such a large part in our lives, and had stolen my heart without me even noticing. I thought back to the events of the past week and a smile flickered across my lips as I remembered the funny little things she had done.

I snapped back to reality at the sound of footsteps in the courtyard. Stacy and I pressed ourselves against the wall to avoid being noticed. The man who had entered the courtyard unlocked one of the ground floor apartments and went inside, closing the door.

I let out the breath I wasn't aware I was holding and relaxed against the wall. I motioned to Stacy to get ready and reached for the lock opening spell.

I cast the spell on the door, which opened with a soft click. Pushing the door open, I looked at a dilapidated apartment's living room. Wallpaper was hanging off the walls in shreds, the carpet was pulled off the floor and loosely laid back down and clothing and other things littered the floor.

An old coffee table in front of the threadbare sofa held mirrors, small bottles and glass pipes, forceps and cotton balls. The curtains were drawn and no lights were on inside. We entered and pushed the door closed, but didn't let the latch snap shut. We silently moved to the closed bedroom door and stood there.

I can't remember ever being as afraid as I was at this moment, but I was on a mission and fear wasn't going to stop me.

I reached for the doorknob and slowly, ever so slowly, turned it until I felt the latch open. I pushed the door open on silent hinges. I said a quick thanks to heaven for that, I had been deathly afraid the hinges would squeal when I opened the door. It was pitch black in the bedroom, with no light coming in front he front and none from the window that was sure to be there, but was invisible in the dark.

I took a careful step inside, casting a look back toward Stacy, who was framed in the dim glow coming in through the open door.

Without warning, there was pain like I had never felt before. My arm felt like it was on fire. Light flared up and a large man who had been standing next to the door in the dark grabbed Stacy to pull her inside. I screamed, a scream that was echoed by Alyssa's voice from the bed. I spun around and saw Alyssa on the bed, wide-eyed. Next to the bed stood the mystery woman, holding a baseball bat. I looked at my arm, seeing my forearm hanging at an unnatural angle, broken. That was the last thing I saw as I passed out.

Seventy-Two

I wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted to die. Anything to make the pain go away. I cracked my eyes open, but didn't see anything. The room I was in was dark, with only a thin strip of light coming in from under a closed door. My arm was hurting terribly, and every movement made it hurt worse. My arm was under me and my full weight was on it. My other arm was also under me, and they were tied or cuffed together. So were my feet, from what I could feel. Something was in my mouth, and I tried to spit it out, but realized I couldn't. I was gagged.

My eyes were getting used to the gloom and I could make out some things around me. I was still in the bedroom, laying on the bed now. The windows were boarded up, that was why there was no light coming in through them at all. Another shape was laying on the floor, also tied. I assumed that was Stacy. There was no sign of Alyssa and no sound came from the front room.

I had to get off my arm, the pain was almost unbearable. I tried to roll over, but a jolt of pain convinced me that that was not a good idea. I arched my back to take my weight on my feet and shoulders, lifting myself off the broken arm. The pain flared up as I moved, but then subsided to a level where I was able to hold a clear thought in my mind. I tapped into the power and lifted myself off the bed using levitation. I floated upwards, turning so my feet were facing downward, then set myself down on the floor. I was still tied and still in pain, but it felt much better to be off the bed. I felt a little in control, and with my weight off my arm, I was in much less pain.

I felt around with my hands, finding that I was handcuffed. That was a lucky break, I didn't know if I could have handled rope bindings without seeing them, but handcuffs I had experimented with. I knew exactly what they were like inside, and a brief moment later the left cuff clicked open, releasing my uninjured arm.

Bringing my arm around the front, I carefully guided my broken right arm around myself and held the cuffs while I unlocked the other one so they would not fall on the floor and make noise.

My hand went to my face, where I felt a strip of duct tape across my mouth. I peeled one corner and ripped it off in one swift motion. It didn't even hurt, well, not compared to my arm, anyway. I spat out what they had stuffed in my mouth, some rag or whatever, I didn't really want to know. It left a foul taste in my mouth and I shuddered involuntarily at the thought of all the germs that might be in my mouth now.

When I bent down to examine the bindings on my feet, I found they were also duct tape, and I removed them quickly, but quietly. I knelt down next to the person on the floor, who was indeed Stacy. I shook her to wake her up, but got no reaction. A quick check confirmed that she had a pulse, she was alive, but unconscious.

I was mad now. First they take my daughter, then they break my arm, and then they hurt my lover? Well, it was time for the gloves to come off.

I stepped up to the bedroom door, twisted the knob and yanked the door open. Light flooded the room and made me blink. I saw the man I had briefly seen last night, sitting at the table holding one of the little bottles over a cotton ball that was burning with a blue flame.

He looked up, yelled “Shit!” and put the bottle down. He jumped off the sofa and took a step towards me. I used my powers to push him back, while pushing with my left hand to make it seem like I was using sheer physical strength, rather than magic.

I slammed him up against the wall, and, still augmenting my strength with magic, grabbed him by the neck, pressing him up against the wall and upwards until his feet were almost off the floor.

Naked fear stood in his eyes as I looked at him and said, in a low voice, “What is it gonna be today? Life, or death?”

It was then that I noticed the smell coming from him and the dark stain spreading across the front of his pants. He had released his bowels and bladder in fear. Just where I wanted to have him. I let off some pressure, allowing his feet to gain a purchase on the ground again and letting him take a breath before I squeezed his neck again.

His mouth moved, but no sound came out. I let off the pressure a bit and he wheezed “Please. Air.” I made as if I were thinking about his request for a moment, then loosened my grip a bit more.

He greedily sucked in the air I allowed him to have. I said “Spill it.”

He did.

They were a couple, drug addicts. They grabbed small, unattended children, who they then sold to a woman for cash. They didn't know what happened to the children after that, but assumed they would be placed with childless rich couples.

He showed no remorse at all, merely relating this as facts. I got angrier and angrier with every sentence that came out of his mouth, finally I yelled “Stop!”

He gave me a questioning look and I said, “What happened to Stacy?” I got a blank look and said, “The woman I came in with, why is she unconscious?”

“Tanya gave her an injection. Something they gave us to keep the children quiet. She'll wake up in a few hours,” he said.

“So, where is Tanya now?” I asked.

He hesitated, causing me to push him against the wall and making as if I was going to choke him again, then he hastily said, “She's gone to sell the brat.”

“Where to?” I asked.

“I don't know. She made a phone call. It's never the same place twice.”

“The 'Brat' is my daughter,” I hissed at him, lifting him off the ground again.

I decided that the man had no more useful information. I needed to get rid of him, I couldn't keep holding him up against the wall after all. Strengthening my choke hold, I carefully applied some magical enhancement and he slumped and slid down to the floor where I let go of him.

I went to the bedroom and got the handcuffs, then searched him for the keys. I found the keys in his pants pocket and placed them on the table. Then I used my powers to move his unconscious body to the kitchen, where I cuffed him to a water pipe.

I went to the bedroom and examined Stacy. She was also tied up with duct tape and gagged. I removed the tape and the stuffing from her mouth, which turned out to be a sock. I felt nauseated when I thought that I had had something in my mouth as well, and that socks came in pairs. However, I had no interest in looking for it, I really didn't need to know.

I was coming down off my adrenaline rush and I was starting to feel the pain from my arm. All the time during the questioning, I had not even noticed the pain, but now it hit me again.

Moving carefully, I lifted Stacy onto the bed using my powers and settled down to wait.

I couldn't leave, because I needed to catch Tanya. This would be the only chance I had to find Alyssa. I had tried a vision spell, but it didn't work. I didn't know why it failed, but I had to find Alyssa the old fashioned way. Well, almost.

Seventy-Three

The sound of a key in the door lock brought me to full attention. The key was turned and the door opened up. Tanya, the mystery woman, stood in the door and stared at me sitting at the table. I didn't give her a chance to react, using my powers to pull her inside and slam the door shut.

Gone was all pretense of physical strength, I was beyond caring about secrecy. In the hours I had spent waiting my thoughts had been chasing one another, about what bad things could be happening to Alyssa right now, then turning to what I would do, and enjoy doing, to Tanya, once I got my hands on her.

Strangely, having a name to call her by had allowed me to gain a much sharper focus for my anger and I was good and ready for her when she walked in the door.

She stood in the room, looking around to see who had pushed her inside, but there was no one there. She looked at me again and I said, “Bitch! You'll regret touching my daughter. You'll rue the day!”

I had some time to collect my thoughts and ready some spells I had memorized. I reached for a spell, whispered it's rune and cast it at her. She screamed and fell to the floor, twitching. I smiled at her coldly as she looked up at me and I said, “Nasty things, these pain spells.”

Her eyes opened wide in shock at what I said, while she continued to writhe and twist on the floor, moaning. I motioned at her and the pain stopped. She stared at me, her mouth moving silently as she could not form a coherent thought. Finally, she gasped, “Pain spell?”

I smiled again, mirthlessly, and said, “Yes. I'm a sorceress.”

She blanched and stuttered, “But... but... magic? There is no such thing......”

I looked at her and said, “That is precisely what we want you to believe.” I gave her a cold stare and went on, “Unless, that is, you fuck with us.”

I called on the spell again, making her cry out and curl up into a fetal position, rocking back and forth in pain.

I said, “And now, when I release you from the pain, you will tell me exactly what you have done with my daughter!”

She looked at me and nodded wordlessly. I motioned with my hand and the pain stopped. She took a deep breath and sat up on the floor.

“Please don't hurt me again!” she begged.

I looked at her and said, “I expect you to talk. Leave nothing out. If you lie, I will know.”

She looked at me like a deer in the headlights and started talking. She confirmed everything her boyfriend had told me, and also told me how it all was done. They would cruise the touristy areas of the city, looking for unattended small children or babies. When they saw one, they would call in the others, who would drive up with the van do perform the snatch. They had a third person, a young man, who drove the van.

They would bring the kid here, drug her, and call the buyer. She would tell Tanya a place to meet and a time, then Tanya would take the child there, hand her over and receive an envelope. Then she would go by a crack house and come home with the drugs. The money they made from a snatch would keep them in crack for a week or two. Then they did it again.

I looked at her in disgust. “So you are preying on the weakest of society to feed that nasty habit of yours.” I stated. She nodded mutely and lowered her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she said, “I wish I could stop, but I can't.” She started sobbing quietly, there on the floor. I was tempted to feel sympathy for her, then a twinge from my arm reminded me of the violence she was capable of.

I pushed her over into the corner of the room and placed wards around her, like a cage of magical energy she should not hope to break out of.

I went to the bedroom to check on Stacy, who was still out cold.

I laid down on the bed next to her and got as comfortable as I could, then exhaustion overcame me and I fell asleep.

End of part eighteen

 

---

 
This text is (c) 2009,2010 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Seventy-four

I woke from Stacy's stirrings and felt disoriented for a moment. I looked around and remembered ending up in a crack house in a bad part of Los Angeles, with Stacy drugged, unconscious, while trying to recover Alyssa.

I shifted to allow Stacy to roll onto her back and watched her slowly come to. She looked at me, then looked past me at the room surrounding us and asked “What happened?”

“It was a trap, remember?” I said, “they were waiting for us.”

Stacy nodded as memory came back to her. She looked at my arm and said “You were hurt, weren't you?”

I said, “yes, Tanya, the woman here, broke my arm with a baseball bat. But somehow it's not hurting so much any more.”

I sat up and examined my arm, which was still not quite right, but much better than yesterday. I took a wild guess and said, “I think my being a sorceress could mean I heal faster then normal people. I just don't know.

“So, do you remember what happened to you? I saw the man grab you before the bitch hit me and I passed out.”

“Yes, he grabbed me and the woman was going to hit you again when you just fell down. Then I tried to get free of the guy, but he was just too strong. The woman left and came back with a syringe and gave me an injection. I don't remember anything after that.”

I said, “Yes, she told me she used a drug they have to keep the children asleep and quiet. They are doing this to a child every two weeks. Seriously, I could just tear them both to pieces, but we need them to find the buyer, a woman, who got Alyssa. Without them, we don't have any chance of finding her.”

Stacy picked up on the worried tone of my voice and snuggled in for a moment. “We will find her, don't worry. So, what happened after I got drugged?”

I gave her a short overview of the things that transpired and what I had done, deciding to leave out any mention of socks. I ended, “So, now Tanya is in a magical cage and the guy is cuffed to the water pipes in the kitchen.”

Stacy gave a wan smile and said, “At least he could not have had a comfortable night.”

I nodded and said, “That is another thing. I'm not about to let them get away with this, but I don't know what to do to them, either. Seriously, killing is too good for them.”

Stacy agreed and we decided we would see what our captives were up to.

First, we checked the front room and Tanya. She was curled up in a little ball inside her cage, asleep. I took a pair of forceps from the table and jabbed her side with the pointed tip. She jerked awake with an “Ouch!”, then focused and started raining a stream of invective on us.

The gist of it was that she was going through withdrawal because her drugs were in her handbag, which had been sitting on the floor, just out of reach, all night long. The thought of that actually made me smile, she truly deserved that.

Since it didn't seem she would stop, i cast another of the nasty spells I had memorized on her. We could see her mouth moving, but no sound came out as she continued to curse us for a moment, then realized that her voice had been taken from her.

She looked at me, fear in her eyes as she realized that the evening had not been a bad dream, that I really was a sorceress and that she was completely in my power. I gave her an cruel smile and said to Stacy, “Now that this one is taken care of, let's see about the other one.”

When we entered the kitchen he started at us with hate filled eyes. His wrists were bloody from pulling on the cuffs, trying to get out of his bonds. His bloodshot eyes told the story of a sleepless night.

“Cut me loose, bitch!” he demanded.

I turned to Stacy and stage whispered, “He doesn't know who I am. Yet.”

Stacy nodded and the man said, “So who are you supposed to be, bitch? You're just some whore, I bet.”

I said, “WHO I am is the mother of the little girl you abducted yesterday. WHAT I am is a sorceress. As Tanya already had the pleasure to find out.

“You, on the other hand, are scum. You will suffer for messing with my daughter.”

He laughed, and said, “You're a crazy bitch! Sorceress, my ass!”

I reached for a spell and cast it on him.

His eyes narrowed as he tried to resist, but soon he was moving, constantly trying to scrape against the wall, pipes and anything else available. Stacy looked at him and asked, “What did you do?”

I answered, “I cast an itching spell on him. Its a common torture spell, it makes his entire body itch. Literally from his scalp to his soles.”

With that, I turned and left the bathroom, Stacy following behind. The man yelled, “Where are you going? You can't leave me like this! Come back, right now!”

I ignored him and we went to the living room again.

Tanya sat propped up against the wall and gave me a sullen look. At least she didn't even try to talk, I got a feeling she was beginning to accept who was the boss in here.

I sat down on the sofa and took the time to fill in Stacy on what the man and Tanya had told me, while Tanya looked on with hate in her eyes.

I motioned for Stacy to stay and went back to the bathroom. The man there was obviously in agony. His shirt was torn from scraping himself against the wall and he was bleeding from numerous scratched and abraded spots on his skin. On his wrists, blood was flowing freely where the cuffs had cut him with all that moving around.

There was no more hate in his eyes, only a dull, broken, pleading expression as he twisted in his cuffs and desperately rubbed himself against the wall and floor as I was watching.

I motioned with my hand and the itching stopped, he relaxed into the wall, his eyes opened wide, then rolled up into his head and he passed out.

I left and returned to Stacy on the living room sofa.

“How is he doing?” she asked me.

I replied, “I put him out of his misery.”

At that, Tanya's eyes became large, and I saw fear had begun to creep into her stare. Her mouth moved, but she immediately realized the futility of it and shut it again.

Seventy-five

With Stacy here to hold the fort, I skipped out and drove home to pick up a few books from my special collection. Moving the books was a calculated risk, but one I was willing to take.

I arrive back at Tanya's apartment just before noon, with a bag of so-called food from a popular fast food outlet for Stacy and myself. We made a bit of a show of eating it in front of Tanya, who got nothing.

Then I unpacked the books from my bag, two large, old tomes full of deliciously nasty spells. Tanya seemed to shrink back against the wall within her cage when she saw me open the first book and peruse it's pages.

Eventually, I had the collection of spells that I thought I needed for this. First, I cast a spell on Tanya, then I took back the spell that I had used to silence her and dispelled the cage.

Tanya blinked and moved as if to attack me. She got up, took a step and then gave me a surprised look as she had to sit down right there on the floor.

I gave her a hard stare and a cold smile and said, “You must really think I'm stupid. I wouldn't let you out if you were in any shape to attack me. You have the muscle strength of a 3 year old girl, but still have your heavy adult body. If you move very, very carefully, you might be strong enough to crawl over here. Maybe.

“So just sit down and listen. You are going to call the buyer. You don't have to say much, if anything. It just has to be you calling her.”

She gave me a questioning look and I said, “I'm going to get my daughter back. You'd better not even try to step in my way, because I will roll over you and crush you to a pulp.”

She looked really scared as she crawled across the floor to her handbag, and pulled out a cell phone and then tried to palm a small plastic bag of white powder. I noticed that and came up next to her with one swift step, effortlessly prying open her weak hands and taking the baggie. Then I proceeded to search the bag, coming up with 4 more identical bags of drugs.

“Please.....”, Tanya said, “I need it...”

“You need no such thing, and where you're going, there won't be any, so you better get used to being without,” I said.

She said, “Where I'm going? Where am I going?” and gave me a bewildered look.

“Hell,” I said.

She blanched. “You're going to kill me?” she asked.

I gave her a cruel, cold smile and said, “Worse.”

Tanya screamed, “Noooo!” and started sobbing.

I said, “You have messed with someone of real power, now it's time to pay the piper. You have only one way to get out of this with your skin intact. That way is to really work on getting my daughter Alyssa back to me unharmed. That is door B. Door A leads straight to hell. So, choose.”

“I'll help,” she sobbed.

“Then calm down and get on the phone.”

Tanya took a few minutes to compose herself, then picked up the cell phone again and dialed a number from speed dial. I turned to the book and cast the spell I had prepared on Tanya.

My consciousness left my body and headed in the direction of Tanya. The spell description had said that it may come to a partial melding of minds at this point, something I was not happy to experience with her. Fortunately, our minds repelled each other furiously, so there wasn't even a tenuous telepathic contact. The phone connected and a female voice said, “Hello.”

I found my consciousness yanked forward and into the telephone. Riding the waves of the cellular network was a singularly exhilarating experience, a bit like the flying I had once dreamed of, but much faster. I braced myself for an impact as I hurtled towards an antenna tower, but I somehow smoothly slipped into the smooth metal rod and zipped down the copper wires, relentlessly driven by the stream of electrons I was riding.

Before I knew it, I popped out of another antenna tower and hurtled downwards into the city. Passing through ghostly walls, I zoomed to my destination in a straight line, homing in on a woman sitting on a bench with a little child. Not Alyssa.

When I was about to dive into the phone she was holding, I diverted to connect to the woman instead. Remembering the way the other sorceress had tried to invade my mind, I used what I had gleaned from the spell book to enter her mind.

I found that I could read her like a book, her entire memory was spread out in front of me. I knew her name, her address, and I saw the entire operation she was a small part of.

Apparently, these abductions were only a side line for her, a bit of extra money that she was able to make off the connections she had from her normal work.

I was sickened by what I saw in her mind. I refocused to my own body and wrote the name, address and any other pertinent details on a piece of paper I had prepared for the purpose.

While I was back in my own body, I noticed a slow trickle of energy coming in through the connection to the woman. I went back to find her slumped on the bench, unconscious but still alive. I quickly cut the connection to avoid hurting her further.

I took the phone from Tanya and pressed the disconnect while turning to Stacy and said, “This is who she is. All her details. I hope I never have to touch a mind so vile again. I almost killed her. Drained her life energy. I didn't even mean to, it just happened.

“She's a sadist, a dominatrix and a specialist in behavior modification. Her 'job', if you want to call it that, is to break the resistance of people, children, they abduct, for the sex slave market.”

I shuddered and went on, “We have to move quickly. Alyssa is still drugged and asleep at her address. Let's go.”

I turned to Tanya and pushed deep into her mind, delivering a shock to her system that made her fall to the floor, out cold. I said, “She'll stay down for a few hours. Let's get my baby back.”

Suddenly I realized what I had said, but while it was a really strange notion, it felt so right. Stacy had also picked up on it and a smile flitted across her face, to be replaced by a look of worry again as she thought about what we were going to do now.

I grabbed the books, unwilling to let them out of my sight, went downstairs and tossed the books into the trunk, then we got into the car and I set the GPS.

Seventy-six

While I was driving, I suddenly realized that I had been using my broken arm normally. A quick examination showed it being healed almost completely. I shrugged and put it down as a perk of being a sorceress. Mind you, If I had a choice, I'd gladly be the old me again. Then again, would I?

Feelings that I hadn't felt before began to assert themselves as a little voice in the back of my head started nagging: “If you were your old self, would you have Alyssa? Would you have Stacy?” Angrily, I replied in thought, “Would I be in danger? Would I have to deal with this body?” But, deep inside, I knew my arguments didn't carry the force that these deeply emotional arguments possessed. My subconscious was betraying me, the old, male me, by preferring to be this woman. An image of Alyssa, playing and laughing, came before my inner eye unbidden, and I snarled a thought of “Ok, you win!” at my subconscious, but then i started to wonder who was winning out. And who should.

While I was musing to myself, we had reached the address I had gleaned from the woman's mind.

I parked half a block down the street and we walked up to the house, which was set back from the road on a semicircular drive. We approached the door, which was opened by a burly man with a scowl on his face before we reached it.

“Who are you?” He asked, in an unfriendly tone.

“Your worst nightmare.” I replied as I reached out for his life energy and used what I had discovered earlier with the woman, draining his energy. His eyes rolled up and he dropped to the floor like a rag doll. Stacy and I dragged him inside so we could close the door. Stacy quickly checked him an looked at me, wide eyed. “He's .... dead!” she said.

Her words barely penetrated my single-minded fixation on finding Alyssa, but I was shocked to the core when they did. I dropped down next to Stacy and checked him myself. I could not feel any sign of life. There was no breathing, no pulse. I tried to connect to his mind, desperate to push back some energy to give life back to him, but there was nothing there to connect to, only a lifeless void.

Stacy grabbed my shoulder and shook it, and I realized she was yelling at me to snap out of it. I got up wearily, and Stacy said, “Ronnie, let's get Alyssa. Don't let it be in vain.”

I pulled myself together as best as I could and we ventured into the house, where we found Alyssa in a bed, with the bars up and chicken wire over the top so she could not get out if she woke up. I took a hold of a pair of the wooden bars and pushed them apart and, with a loud crack, the bars broke and allowed me to reach inside and pull Alyssa out. I cradled her in my arms and pulled her close to me, standing there and hugging my daughter, savoring these feelings I had never previously allowed to take hold.

It was Stacy again who brought me back to reality. “Let's go!” she said.

I nodded and we headed downstairs, past the man I had killed and out of the house. We got into the car, Stacy slipped behind the wheel and we quickly headed home.

Seventy-Seven

When we arrived at the flat, I carried Alyssa upstairs with me. Stacy locked the car and followed me inside. I laid Alyssa down in her bed and sat down next to her. I cautiously felt for her presence, making sure not to create an energy connection to her, and determined that she was in a deep, drugged sleep, but otherwise well.

Stacy put her arms around me and I held on to her like a drowning woman to a life saver as the floodgates opened and I cried on her shoulder until my body was wracked by dry sobs, all my tears spent.

“I killed him.” I said. Over and over I repeated it. “He was alive, talking, and with no more than a thought I took his life. What am I? I'm a monster. A killer. I shouldn't be alive!”

Stacy hugged me tighter and said, “You're no cold blooded killer. You're not evil, Ronnie. I could not love an evil person. You did what you had to do. Mothers have killed people who threatened her children since the beginning of time. I would have done the same.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Really.” she said.

Our attention was diverted to the bed when we saw Alyssa stir and stretch, then open her eyes?

“Mommy?” she asked?

I pulled her close and said, “I'm here, darling, and I'll never, never let go of you again!”

“There were bad people,” Alyssa said. “Real bad people. They hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Did they hit you?”

“They hit me and they put their hands .....” she stopped and pointed down.

“Stacy saw the rage build in my eyes and put a hand on my shoulder, helping me to control what was inside and not explode while holding Alyssa.

“Tanya,” I said. “It has to be her and that man of hers. She was drugged afterward.”

Alyssa gave me a blank look and Stacy looked at me reproachfully. “Later,” she mouthed.

We took Alyssa to the kitchen, where she nibbled at her food. She was still a bit giddy from the drugs and professed being tired after she had eaten. We took her back to her bed and laid her down. I bent over her to give her a good night kiss, but she was already out like a light. I kissed her anyway and murmured “Sleep well, darling.”

Then I straightened up and left the room. I moved with a purpose when I got dressed and got ready to leave. Stacy looked at me and made as if to stop me, then visibly sagged and approached me. She gave me a fierce hug and said, “Ronnie, watch out for yourself. Alyssa needs you, I need you. I love you. Be careful, ok?”

I nodded and headed for the door. I had a few loose ends to tie up. It wasn't going to be pretty.

End of part nineteen

 

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This text is (c) 2009,2010 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Seventy-Eight

With determined steps, I crossed the courtyard of the apartment complex and exited the gates. I got into my car and headed south on La Cienega.

I found it hard to compose myself, because thinking back to Alyssa's words made me feel a black rage rising inside of me. I had never been violent, not even as much as many other men, but I had had my share of scrapes and fights. Going after someone for revenge, however, was a new experience, and one I could have done without.

By the time I made the right turn on Adams Boulevard, I was in a killing mood, and no two ways about it. I knew I had made a promise to Tanya, to let her get out with her skin intact, but I had made no such promise to that lowlife she had shacked up with. Yet I shied away from killing in general and didn't want to burden my own conscience with a murder. I would let him live. In a way, anyway.

I parked the car and took the books from the trunk, knowing that I would not know all the spells I might need to use, and crossed the street to enter the block that housed their apartment.

Coming up the steps, I readied myself to act quickly, in case Tanya was already conscious again and waiting for me. I reached the door and pushed it open. It offered no resistance, so either Tanya was still out, or it was a trap.

I took a running jump inside and whirled around immediately, but no one was hiding to the side of the door or behind it. From the corner of my eye I saw Tanya where I had left her. The man was nowhere to be seen.

I went into the Bathroom and found him where I had left him, securely cuffed to the water pipes. The blood on his wrists and his other injuries had dried and he had fallen asleep. I stepped closer and gave him a kick to the jaw that made blood erupt from his lip and made him come wide awake in an instant.

“I have Alyssa back,” I said, “and she has told me what you have done to her.”

I didn't see much of a reaction in his eyes, maybe just a tiny bit of a brightening up, as from a pleasant memory that had been invoked. I felt disgusted by this choice example of a corrupt human being.

I smiled a mirthless, cold smile, not because I felt like it, but for his benefit, as I said, “I won't kill you.” He seemed to perk up a little bit and I continued, “But I will make you wish I had. You will remember what you did for every single day of the rest of your miserable existence.”

I left the bathroom and went to the living room to see about Tanya. I used my well practiced Levitation skills to lift her off the ground and move her to the open bathroom door, where she would have a good look at the man. I used a corner of my mind to maintain a force that kept her pushed against the wall, unable to move, then I connected to her dormant mind and pushed some energy across the link. Her eyes fluttered open and she took a moment to take in her situation.

“Did you get your daughter back?” She asked, and I heard the unspoken question of 'Did I help you enough to stay alive?'

“Yes,” I answered, I have her back, safe and sound, except for what he did to her.

Tanya's eyes widened slightly in surprise, it seemed she wasn't even aware of her partner's activities. I decided that it made no difference in the end and turned to him.

“You,” I said, “have violated my daughter. I don't even know your name, and I don't care.” I said. “You won't need it anymore after I'm done with you. Or much else of what you have.”

I cast a ward which included a spell that would let no sound escape, an easy modification to the standard spell I knew so well.

I said, “No one can hear you.” with another one of those cold smiles.

He struggled to move away from me, almost as if we wanted to melt into the wall. I took a step forward, using my powers to pin his legs to the floor I used a knife I had taken from the trunk of the car, along with the books, to cut his pants open. Then, with a savage rip, I tore open his shirt.

“Take a good look at yourself,” I said, “for the last time.”

“What are you going to do to me?” he asked.

“You'll see,” I answered, “and feel, too.”

There was one spell that I knew as well as no other. I had spent countless hours in my sleepless nights, brooding over it, hoping that Alyssa was wrong about it. I had examined it, picked it apart in my mind, looked at it from all angles and studied every part of it. I needed no book to read this spell from, no reminder. I was the reminder, I carried the spell within myself.

The spell was made up of a number of other spells, interwoven tightly to make it useful for it's intended purpose. Now I carefully stripped out some parts of the spell in my mind, and readied the remainder for casting. As the glowing symbol appeared in my mind, I asked, “Any last words?”

“Fuck you, bitch!”

“Why, how thoughtful of you to think of my sexual pleasure,” I said, “but you are the one who gets fucked.”

With that, I cast the spell and stepped back.

The man looked at himself, fear rising inside him when he felt the pain coming on. Then, he screamed a wordless scream of unbearable agony. I tapped into the energy of random people around me, taking a very little from each, not enough to hurt them, but enough to maintain a steady stream of energy to the man.

I didn't want to kill him, and I didn't want him to pass out. I had cast my own spell on him, the one I was caught in, but with a couple of choice modifications.

My spell was crafted as a transformation spell for a willing subject. It was made so it would be mindful of energy, not depleting the subject's life force. It was also crafted to cause the subject to sleep a magical sleep while the changes happened.

I had stripped both these protections out of the spell.

As the spell changed his body, it remade every cell. The process was apparently excruciatingly painful, and without the protection of the sleep, the victim had to suffer through that pain. By feeding him energy, I made sure he would survive it.

I hadn't known if it would work as intended, and I never anticipated it would cause as much pain as I saw reflected in his eyes now. But I didn't care, in a way I even enjoyed seeing the punishment take it's painful course.

His screams lessened as his voice gave out, and with a dull, broken expression on his face, he watched as his body changed. When the pain subsided, his bone structure was changed. He now had wider hips and was shorter. His arms and legs had lost all defined muscle and his smaller hands had slipped from the cuffs and fallen to his sides.

He had to look on as is manhood shriveled away, until his view was obstructed somewhat by the two protuberances that were now part of his chest.

As the spell progressed to change the soft tissues of his body, all his injuries vanished, leaving him unblemished and beautiful, an apparent female of about 22 years. The changes had also reached his face and throat and restored the voice that he had lost when he had screamed in pain until he could scream no more.

Tanya had been looking on, with fear showing in her eyes. I thought that she might be afraid that pain like this was also part of her future.

I turned to the new girl and said, “You have no past. You don't exist. No papers, no name. You also have no criminal record anymore, and you're free of the drug.

“Your life is in your hands now. You can change. You can lose your belligerent male ways. You have all the paths available to you that a woman has in today's society.

“But, this is not a mercy. It is not a gift. It is a chance.”

I turned to Tanya, releasing her from the hold I had on her, pulling her into the bathroom to stand next to the new girl.

“You, Tanya, get no such help. He had to go through the pain to become she, you already are a woman. You will not be free of the drug. You have to kick the habit yourself.

“Now it's time for your punishment.” I said.

I gave them a good, long look, daring them to say anything. I received only silence.

I said, “Your punishment is this: You will be linked to your victims. All the children you captured and sold will never have a nightmare again. Because you will have them. You will experience all the nightmares of all your victims. You will feel their pain. If one dies, a part of you will die.”

They stared at me, uncomprehendingly. “But... you can't do that to us.” Tanya said.

I replied, “I can. And I will. Follow me.”

I returned to the living room, where I had left the spell books. They followed meekly, aware that I had the power to subdue them easily if they tried to object.

Back in the living room, I cast a caging ward around them and set to reading the spells I would need.

“What will happen to us?” asked Tanya.

“You will be set free. I will destroy the drugs you have. I will take all money you have. It will be donated to a children's charity. You will not return here. You leave with the clothing on your back and Tanya's papers. Nothing else. Now be quiet.”

I returned to my reading and studying and slowly built the spell I would need to achieve the effect I wanted. I took the pattern from my own spells again, making sure the spell could never be removed.

Finally, it was done, the spell floating before me, and before I could give it a second thought, I cast the cruel punishment on the pair.

“It is done.” I said. “You are forever linked to your victims' fates.

“Whatever nightmares they would dream are yours. Whatever pain they suffer through abuse, you will feel. If someone burns them with a cigarette, you will feel the burn.

“You have one chance. Find them. Find and rescue each and every one of them. If they don't feel pain, you won't.

“I'm done here.”

I picked up the purse, threw the drugs on the table, pulled out the money, blood money, from the purse. I threw Tanya's driver's license at her and let the purse fall to the floor.

Then I cast a final spell I had prepared. A breeze seemed to waft through the apartment as things rearranged themselves. Trash and paraphernalia vanished, furniture repositioned itself, damage walls became whole and the boards on the bedroom window vanished. Also, all personal possessions of the pair vanished as well, save for one of Tanya's skirts and a top and a pair of panties.

I picked up the items and threw them at the new girl, saying “Put them on if you want. If not, you can also leave naked.”

She scrambled to put the items on, fumbling with the skirt until Tanya helped her. I dispelled the cage and the wards and opened the door. “Out you go,” I said, picking up my books.

They went outside onto the walkway and I pulled the door closed. In the window was a sign that hadn't been there before. It read: “For Rent”.

I went past the pair and down the steps, dropped the books into the trunk of my car and drove off without looking back. Justice had been done.

End of part Twenty

 

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This text is (c) 2009,2010 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Seventy-Nine

“No,” Stacy yelled, “no, you're not running off to save the world now!”

“But...,” I said, then stopped.

I had spent the evening putting down everything I had found out about the sex slave operation we had stumbled upon. I left out Tanya and her new girlfriend, because they had already been punished and they might do some good in the future by rescuing other victims.

Looking at it, I don't believe the police would take any of it seriously. We had some information, but no evidence that would warrant an investigation, much less hold up in court.

I had wanted to find out more, flesh out the file to the point where the police could make good use of it, but Stacy had really put her foot down. In a way, I could understand it, but I wanted to argue that these people needed to be stopped.

“Honey, I think you need to take a step back,” Stacy said, “I wish it wouldn't happen, but I know that what you did today is going to come back to haunt you and you will have to deal with your feelings about it. You're still running on adrenaline and want to run off in all directions at once, but there is nothing worse you could do right now.

“Let's go to bed, sleep on it and calm down.”

I had to admit to myself that she had a point, and meekly followed her out if the living room. I stopped briefly to look in on Alyssa. She was fast asleep, probably still working on getting the drugs out of her system. I hoped they hadn't given her anything that would cause permanent damage.

I bent down and softly kissed Alyssa's forehead, then quietly left and followed Stacy into bed. I snuggled up to Stacy and exhaustion caught up with me quickly.

Eighty

In the morning, Stacy called her uncle Jack and asked him to come over later in the day, so we could formulate a plan of action.

I still wanted to go after the child traffickers, but Stacy had made a good case for taking care of the survivor first. Although grudgingly, I had to agree that the traffickers, if the police didn't pick them up, would probably keep longer than the new girl could stay sane.

Infuriatingly, I was still unable to cast a vision spell, so we had to go on the scant information we had from my first casting and on plans of the compound we had found on the internet.

Apparently the cell she was kept in was a holding tank of this now closed former woman's jail. The building had, at various times, been the site of movie shootings, for which some remodeling had taken place.

This wasn't going to be an easy job. The building was clearly designed to keep people in, and to keep people outside from getting someone out. Unlike a hospital facility, this place was built with security in mind.

Lacking more information, we had to agree to play it by ear. I would be the one going in by levitating myself across the wall, then approaching the receiving area on foot. I would then decide, by the lay of the land, how to proceed into the building. My skill with locks had improved to the point where I was confident that conventional, mechanical locks would not present any difficulty. I also had the target, which I had prepared, set up in a safe landing zone, in case I had to make a hurried exit.

Jack would be in my car, nearby, but ready to spring into action immediately. Ha had been able to obtain headset equipped radios, the kind bouncers used at events, and we would all wear them.

We had gone back to get the van Tanya had used to abduct Alyssa. It had not been part of the spell I used to clear out Tanya's apartment, so it was still parked where they had left it. Having no key was no problem at all, because the old van was not equipped with an immobilizer. A quick manipulation of the lock made it possible to start it without any key at all. Stacy was going to be parked in the residential neighborhood adjoining the compound with this van.

Jack had been able to come up with a recommendation for a babysitter and Alyssa was to be kept safe at our apartment.

Finally, night had come and with it came the time for action. We had arranged everything as planned and everyone was in position as I approached the gates and silently lifted myself into the air. Floating quietly across the courtyard, I approached the receiving area and softly landed near one of the unlit windows.

Concentrating on making no sound, I moved around the side of the building towards a small steel door, which we had identified as leading into a changing room for the guards.

With a soft click, the lock gave way and I carefully pulled the door open a tiny crack. Inside was darkness and I silently opened the door far enough to slip through. I pulled the door closed, but didn't let it latch, then moved across the room to the door on the other side.

This door was equipped with a peephole, which showed a small, empty room beyond. The room was also dark and empty, the door on the far side closed and locked.

A brief moment of concentration made the huge centerpiece of the lock turn 180 degrees, withdrawing the heavy bolt. I pulled the door open, careful to make no noise.

Elsewhere, a small red light came on.

I squeezed through the door, pulling it shut behind me and locking it. I knew that the door on the far side would not open unless this one was closed, so I had to take the risk of relocking the door to get any further into the building.

The door on the far side was also equipped with a peephole, which showed a wide, brightly lit corridor, terminating at a pink, barred gate a short distance to the left and leading further down to the right.

Again, a soft click, followed by a scratching noise, indicated that the door was now unlocked.

I opened the door carefully and moved through the gap, ducking low. I pulled the door closed behind me, but didn't lock it.

Carefully looking around, I saw that the barred gate led to a room with a guard station, protected by heavy glass panes, while the hallway to the right led around a bend and out of sight.

I had a feeling that something wasn't right. Thinking seemed to be difficult and for a briefly I felt like I was very tired. I leaned against the wall for a moment until I recovered and moved down the hallway and around the bend.

The hallway ended at another gate, just like at the other end, but this one was painted grey and seemed to be in much better repair. Past it was the receiving area, with two windowed holding tanks on the left and a guard booth on the right, and more cells beyond.

I felt the presence of magic, the spell that bound the surviving girl to her form. The spell had the feel of something very familiar, I was certain it was the same spell as the one that bound me.

As I moved closer to the gate, the feeling got stronger, I was almost certain the girl was in one of these cells. I approached the gate, but could not see anything at the angle I was looking from.

This gate was electric, operated from the guard booth. I could not see the control panel, so I could not simply use my powers to push the button.

I extended my magical feelers into the casing above the gate, intent on finding the motor and turning it magically to open the gate. I nudged some of the levers and switches i sensed inside the mechanism, looking for the motor, when suddenly a relay clicked on and the gate began to slowly open.

I smiled, I must have lucked out here and pushed something that caused the gate to open. I looked around, worrying that the noise might have attracted someone, but it seemed like all was quiet. Finally, the gate stopped moving and I let go of whatever it was I had been holding inside the mechanism, listening intently for movement around the room I was about to enter.

Satisfied that I could not sense any movement, I slipped through the gate and approached the cells on the left hand wall. The first one was lit, but empty. Moving forward, I looked into the second one and was rewarded by the image of a young, naked girl sleeping under a prison blanket.

At that moment, the gate started closing, the sound of the motor shattering the silence. I spun around, fearfully looking at the gate and pulling together the energy I would need to jump home from here. I spotted a movement inside the guard booth and turned towards it.

Suddenly, I found myself thrown around and up against the wall, blinding pain seared through my hip as my eyes caught sight of a woman aiming a gun at me. The gun spoke again, causing more pain to wrack my body as I looked, unbelieving, at the red stain spreading across my chest.

Before I could react, a stifling cloud seemed to settle on my mind, my thoughts slow as molasses, I sensed a presence coming out of the cell I had been looking into. I saw a fine featured, young woman with red hair and green eyes, and I felt the crushing power of her magic as she forced my mind into the void of unconsciousness. Weakened and in pain, I could not fight it, and darkness dropped over me like a blanket, blotting out all sensation and giving me blissful respite from the pain.

Eighty-One

I awoke to a dull, pounding ache in my chest and hip and a crushing headache. My view was filled by a beige ceiling with a single, small fluorescent lamp. I moved my head a little and was rewarded with a glimpse of a holding tank's window and a flash of blinding pain, making me close my eyes to wait until it passed.

I moved my arm, feeling pain in my chest, and found that I had not been tied up. My hand moved up to my face and my forehead, and found a headband of some sort, which seemed to be made from metal.

I pressed against it, but was unable to dislodge it.

I pushed myself up off the ground, again pausing to let the headache subside and looked around. I was apparently in the other holding tank, with the door locked. I had been shot twice, once near the hip and once in my chest, I remembered that much. Yet I hadn't died.

The woman. There was another magic user here. I didn't know how she'd hidden her aura so I couldn't sense her until the last moment, but I did know that this was most likely not an official government operation, and that I was in much more danger than I had thought.

It seemed that they had healed me partway. Not enough to take the pain and make me whole, but enough to keep me from dying. Well, I had to remember to thank them for that. Maybe.

I dragged myself to my feet, and I found that, if I kept most of my weight on my left leg, I could move around slowly. I moved up to the window and looked across the room to the guard post. I seemed to be by myself at the moment.

The reflection in the window showed that I was wearing a coppery metal headband, which I was unable to remove. I tried to use magic to remove it, but found that the energy, which felt just beyond my grasp, would not bend itself to my will.

I concluded that the headband was some kind of antimagical device, and probably could only be removed by magic. Any attempt to remove it by hand caused extreme headaches, so strong that I decided to stop trying.

I lowered myself onto the bench that was molded to the wall to wait. From the bench I could not see out of the window, that was probably done intentionally, so the inmates would not watch the guards all the time.

I must have nodded off for a moment, because I was awoken by noise from the room outside. Peeking around the window frame, I saw the woman with the gun and another woman I hadn't seen before drag in an unconscious Jack, and unceremoniously dump him into a cell on the far wall. Moments later, the magic user and yet another woman dragged in Stacy, who was struggling and cursing them as she, also was pushed into a cell and the door locked.

As I eased myself down onto the bench, I heard the sorceress say, “Go to their house. Kill the brat. Then come back”.

End of Part Twenty-One

 

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This text is (c) 2010 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Eighty-Two

Alyssa! They were going for my little girl! I briefly wondered if they knew anything about her transformation or her real identity, but I dropped that train of thought quickly because it would not help me right now.

I needed to regain control of the situation if possible, or at least flee. With the headache having receded a bit, I tried reaching for the magic again, but met with no more success than the time before. Magic wasn't likely to be the solution. I had been totally relying on my abilities there and being stripped of them just when I needed them most was a hard pill to swallow.

I raised myself up a little and peered out of the window just in time to see the woman with the gun and one of the others leave through the gate, which was closing after them. The other two women were nowhere to be seen.

Well, I had done it. I had managed to adroitly snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and endanger all my friends and my daughter. Just great, I thought, yes, just great.

The sound of a key in the door brought me to full alertness and I watched the door for an opening to take action, any action. One of the women was standing about 20' from the door and covered the doorway with her gun. The sorceress stood off to the side, well out of my reach and out of the other woman's line of fire.

She said “Come out and don't try anything. We have you covered.”

When I got up, the pain from my hip and chest hit me and made me stagger. I winced and looked up to see a cruel smile play around the corners of the sorceress' mouth for a moment, then her expression hardened again.

“Get a move on already, we don't have all night!” She said.

Damn right, I though, I don't have much time at all to save Alyssa. I got out of the cell and into the open area, where a single chair had been set up. The sorceress motioned towards the chair and I painfully walked across the room and sat on the uncomfortable, hard piece of furniture.

The sorceress walked up and down while she started talking to me.

“You have been quite troublesome. Really a dark horse, to be honest I still don't know who exactly you are. You and your Council really had me going for a while, they haven't come up with anything like this in the last two hundred years.

“But now that I have you here and well secured, it's time to unravel the thread and find out exactly what you have been up to.”

Council! She thought I was with the Council. Then she must know about Alyssa as well.

The sorceress went on. “Now, I don't believe you are going to tell me what you know of your own free will, and sadly the damper also prevents me from interrogating you magically. But I believe you will tell me everything, won't you?”

Her cruel smile was back as she motioned to the other woman to keep me covered and crossed the hallway to another cell door, which she unlocked. She then stepped into the cell and dragged Stacy out by her hair, flinging her to the floor in front of the chair I was sitting on.

“You will tell me everything.” She repeated. “Or else you can watch me remove some body parts she might be rather attached to,” she said, motioning at Stacy.

I sat there mutely, trying to form a coherent thought. I felt I had totally run out of options at this point, with the sorceress holding all the cards and me holding none.

The snick of a switchblade knife brought me out of my thoughts and back into the harsh light of reality. The sorceress took Stacy's arm and said, “I believe a demonstration is in order.”

She then pushed the knife into Stacy's upper arm. Stacy screamed and looked around fearfully, but seemed to be unable to move much. I recognized the effects of the spell Alyssa had used at Stacy's apartment and I knew that Stacy would not be able to break free of it.

The sorceress had pushed the knife all the way through and i could clearly see the bloody tip of the knife protruding from the back of my lover's arm. Stacy looked at me pleadingly while the sorceress fixed her cruel stare on me and looked into my eyes as she twisted the knife.

Stacy screamed again and I came out of the chair and took one step toward the sorceress and Stacy. I was thrown back when the other woman fired and the bullet tore painfully through my right shoulder, the sound of the gun firing arriving just a split second after. I spun around from the force of the impact as my knees buckled and fell to the floor, just inches from Stacy.

So this is how it ends, I thought, extending my fingers to touch Stacy one last time. Stacy must have thought the same as her fingers twitched and, fighting the spell, moved to close the remaining distance.

The tips of our fingers touched.

Eighty-three

I sensed, rather than saw, the woman with the gun move around to keep the sorceress out of the line of fire as my senses came back alive. A thin but steady stream of the energy I had supercharged Stacy with was moving across the tenuous connection formed by our fingers and I found that I could actually control this energy. The band seemed to keep me from accessing my own energy, but it couldn't account for my unique ability to use energy from other sources.

I quickly looked at the web of spells that were woven around the band and decided that there wasn't anything I could do about the thing. It's complexity was staggering and it was also very old. I thought there were probably not too many of those around.

As the woman with the gun moved around, I reached out for her energy and pulled it into myself, causing her to crumple to the floor in a lifeless heap. The sorceress' head flew around at the sound of the woman falling and I moved to grasp Stacy's hand firmly, focusing my inner vision on the sorceress. I met a nearly solid wall of shielding, she was certainly powerful and not someone I could tackle, much less in my current condition.

Also, there was a much more pressing matter to attend to, so I focused the energy from Stacy on the return spell I had prepared ahead of time.

Reality shifted around us as we materialized in the space we had cleared for that eventuality in the living room. The babysitter awoke at the unexpected sound and, seeing the bloody and disheveled women who had just appeared out of thin air, made as if to scream.

“Sshhhhh..” I motioned to be quiet and I saw recognition in her eyes. She calmed down and started to ask a question when I said “Please be quiet. People are on their way here to hurt Alyssa. I'm hurt and so is Stacy. We need to prepare and we need your help.”

She gave me a confused look that turned to fear when she saw the blood from my shoulder and the knife in Stacy's arm. Stacy was still under the spell and not moving, which made her appear unconscious or dead at first glance.

“Snap out of it!” I yelled, startling her into action. “Get some bandages, towels, anything!” I barked out as I stood up, swaying a little from exhaustion and loss of blood, reaching out and pulling one of the volumes off the bookshelf.

This book was about healing, and I had placed it in a prominent place so I would always easily find it. The babysitter came back with some kitchen towels and the first aid box we kept in the kitchen and I told her to see to Stacy's knife wound.

The look I received from her was one of utter helplessness and I sighed and turned around. Looking into Stacy's eyes I saw a little fear but also resolve and from that I took the strength to grip the handle of the knife and pull it out in one smooth motion.

Stacy flinched and bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes while she fought the pain. The babysitter recovered and started tearing packets and unrolling gauze and band aids.

I turned back to the book and quickly found the spell I was looking for. Touching Stacy for energy, I cast the spell on my shoulder, where the wound closed up and stopped hurting so much within a couple of minutes. I found that the spell had also had an effect on my hip and chest, lessening the pain there and returning some mobility to my badly battered body.

I used some of the energy at my disposal to lock down the apartment and strengthen the wards to a point where no one without powers would be able to pass them. There was little energy left within Stacy and it seems like I could not control any energy I myself absorbed. I could not tap other people because that was just going into my own pool of power, which was locked in by the head band device. I needed the remaining energy to cast the spell to remove the damned headband.

Again I frantically turned pages to find information on the device that was placed on my head and how to remove it. After what seemed to be an interminable period of time, I found a mention in one of the older tomes and finally I also found a detailed description of the band.

It appears this was forged around A.D. 75 by a celtic smith and then imbued with it's magic by a powerful sorceress, who used it to subjugate, humiliate and finally kill her rivals. The good news was that it wasn't, in and of itself, deadly. The bad news was that it could not be removed at all. At least not while the wearer was alive.

Eighty-Four

I used some more of my precious supply of energy to poke and prod at the spells in the band and to study them. I recognized some of the intricate patterns I had seen in other ancient spells, a filigree of energy that was beautiful to look at and terrible to contemplate. None of the more recent items had anything even remotely like this, they tended to be simple, blunt spells.

For many magic users, technology had replaced these wondrous magical creations the book listed and the skills needed to create them were possibly all but forgotten.

I memorized as much of the spell as I could while studying it and picking at it with slim tendrils of energy, akin to someone carefully picking at a scab to see if it could be removed.

One of my probes slipped into a gap between fields and suddenly I was able to see these spells from another vantage point. What I had merely thought beautiful from the outside was stunning from inside, scintillating threads of energy intricately interwoven to form a gossamer net that could harness the basic energies of the universe itself. Images and spell patterns flooded my mind, etching themselves into my memory for eternity. I shrieked as I slipped and let go of Stacy's hand, cutting the flow of energy.

Miraculously, my senses didn't shut down, instead, the tendril that had insinuated itself into the spell fed energy from the spell directly to me, energy I could wield. In fact, the spell contained a tremendous amount of energy, more than I had ever handled, ever sensed in my life.

This was a strange energy that had an otherworldly feel to it, and as I followed it through the spell and beyond, the spell on the band unravelled and joined with the energy swirling around in my mind as I drew energy from places beyond, places filled with beauty beyond human comprehension.

The band, drained of it's energy, shifted on my head, the physical sensation breaking my concentration and bringing me back to reality. I found that the band was now only a copper band, all it's magic was gone and now held inside of me. My mind reeled with new knowledge, patterns of energy twirling, rotating, twining and unravelling before my inner eye in a fearsome firework of forces that could tear the world apart.

Was this what they were scared of, I wondered? Did I stumble on forbidden knowledge here? I needed answers but they seemed to be further away than ever.

My journey into these other planes must only have taken a few minutes, because when I focused back on the physical world, the babysitter had just finished wrapping a bandage around Stacy's arm. I reached out with my mind and dissolved the immobilizing spell that the sorceress had cast on Stacy.

Stacy took a deep breath and smiled at me. I could see the love in her eyes as she looked up and said “Thank you.”

I answered “I love you” and caressed her cheek, cradling her head in my lap.

End of part Twenty-two

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This text is (c) 2010 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Eighty-Five

Alyssa had slept through all of this as only small children can.

However, that was soon to change. I watched from the window as a black SUV pulled up in front of the building and the woman who had dragged Jack into the jail emerged from the car, followed by two men who, to describe them in one word, were muscle. The trio headed for the courtyard entrance and split up, the woman and one of the men taking up position at the near stairs and the other man coming up the far side stairs to circle around the building's upper walkway.
I hadn't expected them to send so much muscle since all they came for was to kill a toddler, so I had to think on my feet to avert a disaster. Once the man had come around most of the way, the pair started up the near stairs, intending to converge on my apartment door. Letting my senses roam I discovered that the woman was also a magic user, albeit a quite low level one. However, that meant that purely physical defenses wouldn't cover everything and I would need to use magic.

Once they reached the door, the woman started to work on my wards, an exercise in futility as I refreshed every strand of magic she arduously removed from the inside. After about 5 minutes, one of the men pushed her aside and tried to break down the door using physical force while the other one tried to force the window as well. All they got for their troubles was bruised shoulders and knuckles.

One of the men went downstairs and rummaged around in the car, shortly returning with some light brown colored, brick shaped blocks and a handful of wires.

Uh-oh.

I hadn't had the opportunity to see it in real life before, but there was no doubt that this was plastic explosive, probably the stuff they always used in movies, C-4. This apartment was going to be a decidedly uncomfortable place to be in very soon.

Looking out the windows on the outside of the building, there was the expected second SUV and more of the lowbrow muscle this organization seemed to like to use. However, this side didn't have a magic user as backup.

I quickly formed a plan and motioned for Stacy to go get Alyssa. She swiftly moved into the bedroom and came back out with the still sleepy little angel in her arms.

“Mommy,” said Alyssa, “what is happening?”

I said “Shhhh, there are some bad people here but I will keep you safe.”

She smiled and said “Promise?”, to which an answered “Cross my heart!”. I did leave out the second part, it didn't seem quite appropriate in the situation.

I readied a spell to crate an opening in the wall, as well as my trusty levitation spell. Casting the spells in rapid succession, a 6 foot hole appeared in the outside wall and Stacy, with Alyssa, and the unwitting babysitter found themselves floating a few inches above the ground. I carefully directed them through the hole when the C4 in the front went off. The three floating figures were pushed out of the hole and away, flying over the heads of the assembled henchmen below, while I was thrown against another part of the wall and knocked senseless.

It could have only been a minute before I recovered, finding the woman and her two companions standing over me, clearly intending to take me prisoner yet again.

That was so not happening!

With all those I cared for out of the way, I reached deep into my power well, intending to obliterate these three, no second chances. However, I forgot just one tiny little thing. A rather big thing, actually. I was still carrying the ancient, otherworldly spell power.

Everything around me, a perfect sphere of about 10 feet across, ceased to be. I didn't explode, it didn't disintegrate, it didn't burn. It just wasn't anymore. I was floating free in a ball of blackness, with power pouring out at an unbelievable rate, fighting my control and ultimately ripping a hole into the universe itself, on it's way back to where it had been drawn from.

The power discarded me somewhere along the way.

Eighty-Six

When I opened my eyes, the light hurt. Then feeling flooded back and I discovered that everything hurt. I tried to make a list of the things that hurt, but soon gave up, trying to make a list of things that didn't hurt. I couldn't find any.

Aeons later my headache subsided to a point where I could open my eyes without blinding pain stabbing into my tender grey matter. I saw a grey sky with darker clouds moving swiftly across the heavens, lightning flashing occasionally in the clouds, but not arcing down to strike earth. My generous look at the sky was afforded by a hole in the roof, actually it wasn't so much a hole in the roof as there being no roof at all, save for the very edges where the walls were.

I slowly turned my head to see crumbling walls and dark-leafed climbing plants of a kind I had never seen before growing over pretty much everything. I was laying on what must have been the ground floor of this building once. Now it was the only floor because the upper floor just wasn't there anymore.

In the upper floor wall, exposed bricks showed a place where there used to be a hole, about 6 feet across.

I was at home. Just when the hell was I?

Eighty-Seven

Some time later I was able to move with only a little pain. I had been sitting up for a while, looking at my surroundings from my vantage point in the destroyed apartment complex. There wasn't a single wall that was intact. Plaster was a thing of the past and many walls had holes, some seemingly made by force, others by the material giving way and collapsing quitely. The pool was filled with debris and as overgrown as the rest of the complex, and even the bit of street I could see outside hadn't fared any better.

Over everything, the strange, grey, sunless sky held sway.

I reached into my magical core to cast about for life or even magic, but came up utterly empty. Not in the sense that I could sense nothing, but in the sense that I could not sense. I had no magic. None at all. Even the memory of having had magic was fading from the top of my mind, spells becoming less distinct in my memory at a rapid pace. Whatever happened, wherever all that power went, it had taken my own power with it, leaving me without any. Whatever I needed to find, I would have to find the hard way. The human way.

I got up, ignoring the remaining aches and pains, and took my first, tentative, steps into what was now my life. Alone, friendless, everyone I loved or cared about probably dead, in a strange world I didn't know the rules of. I didn't like this one bit.

Exiting the apartment building down steps that crumbled under my my feet, I looked up and down the street I had seen in bright sunshine just yesterday. Gone was the smooth paved surface, the sidewalks, the cars. The road was a twisted jumble, weathered slabs of paving laying without any rhyme or reason, sidewalks that seemed to be gone entirely, shallow trenches where someone must have dug up the drainpipes and debris that had fallen off the houses along the street.
There were no cars, not even traces of cars, so I had to assume that people were able to leave in a somewhat orderly fashion, that this place had been abandoned, that there was a chance all these millions hadn't died where they stood.

I began walking towards Sunset Blvd, towards the hills, concerned about the most important thing after air. Water. I hadn't expected the taps to provide any, and unsurprisingly, they did come up dry. Outside of civilization, water is usually found in the hills, so that is where I would have to go.

Reaching Sunset, I looked up and down the street to spot the first car I saw since waking up. Not that I would call it a car. Not anymore.

My hopes of finding something I could use to get around with, save for my feet, had just been cruelly dashed.

I went across the road to touch the rusted carcass, if only to assure myself it was real. The metal felt brittle and with a light push I was able to poke a hole into it. There was no rubber left at all and any plastics had rotted away as well. In places stark green copper was exposed to the elements where wire bundles had been somewhat protected by other parts of the hulk. No, I would not be driving anytime soon.

I headed up the street, westward, to Doheny Dr., and up into the hills, where the rich people used to live. Taking the scenic route, I looked at houses and back yards to see if any cisterns or pools had survived and possibly contained water, but it was to no avail.

Once I reached the top of Doheny Dr., I continued on up the mountainside, roughing it. To my right, there should have been the iconic “Hollywood” sign, but I couldn't see any trace of it. I guessed it had been gone for centuries. That made me think about the buildings, cars and plants, and the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn't in Kansas anymore. To not put too nice a face on it, the time between my time and this time must be well into the four figures. I wasn't centuries ahead. I was millenia ahead. I sat down where I was and cried. I cried for what was lost, for what could have been. For my love, my child, my world.

It took me some time to pull myself out of the emotional funk I had dropped into, but the situation didn't allow me much time to waste on emotions, however cathartic these episodes may be. I needed to find water, and I needed to find it within a day or two or I was toast. And just about as parched.

Crossing Mulholland Dr., I crested the Hollywood hills and got my first look at the other side. I was stunned to see not the expected Valley, but an expanse of water meeting the horizon at the edge of my vision. Small islands dotted the watery vista and it took me a few minutes to realize that they were the overgrown remains of the tops of some of the skyscrapers I had expected to see when I reached the top of the hills. A nonsequitur thought flashed across my mind, “Thank goodness, no more Valley Girls.”
The surreal aspect of it hit me and I needed to sit down as giggles shook my body, gasping out the one thing I probably never expected to say for real, “It wasn't me, it was San Andreas fault.” I must have lost it somewhere because the next thing I remembered was the sky, still covered by swiftly moving grey clouds, darkening. I realized I was still without shelter and without water. That wasn't good, not good at all.

With no way forward, I turned left, moving diagonally along the hillside intending to reach Pacific Palisades before nightfall. Formerly an area reserved for the ultra rich, the gated community must have been home to more than one “prepper”, a term for people who prepared for the end of the world by building shelters and stockpiling supplies. While I didn't expect to find any food that was still edible, I suspected that some may have been equipped with cisterns to collect rainwater and store it for a sunny day. With no natural streams in evidence, it seemed like the LA basin had returned to it's natural state of being a desert, making man made water collection the one viable option.

As I moved onward, the skies got darker but the feared full dark never came. Constant lightning activity in the clouds kept everything illuminated in a strange, dead grey color that I hadn't seen before, save for nightmares. Yes, that was it, the featureless, colorless light of nightmares illuminated the earth of this time. Rustlings in the underbrush made me pick up my pace, without magic, speed was my only ally in trying to outrun the dangers this half-night might hold.

After who knows how many steps, I came to a wall that cut across my path. Not really a wall, it was more like a few bricks to show where a wall used to be. I stepped over the remnants of the wall and found myself inside PacPal, Pacific Palisades Gated Community, for the first time in my life, and only millenia after it's decline.

Going house to house, I looked for any structures that were less decrepit than the rest. That wan't an easy task because buildings here were built better than those in LA proper, allowing more walls to survive the ravages of time. I did find several storm cellars, but they were open and long since looted. No water anywhere. In my mind I marked several places that had the potential to be fortified as a place to sleep, intending to come back to them if I got too tired to continue.

About several hundred houses later, at least it felt like that many, I came upon a house that had an intact pool. No cellar, no prepper's supplies, just a pool that was made not with man made materials, but with clay and stone. Under the plants covering the surface, when I wiped away the surface scum, was clear, sweet water, enough to last a lifetime. Well, not quite, but enough for the moment. Lacking the luxury of caring about disease and the means to test for it, I plunged my head into the water and drank my fill.

A quick search of the houses yielded a number of fired clay vases and pots that had survived the millenia and I filled them with water from the pool. Once done, I retreated to the best preserved storm cellar and barricaded the door against wild animals. LA wasn't a storm area, it was an earthquake area. Why these idle rich had build storm cellars was beyond me, but beggars can't be choosers and I was happy that they had done so.

Exhausted as I was, I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the ground.

Eighty-Eight

“Veronica...”

“Veronica...”

I drifted lazily through the dreamworld, not even recognizing the name I now called my own at first.

“Veronica...”

Me. That was me. I directed my attention to to voice calling this name, my name.

“Yes?”

“Oh, finally,” the voice said. “I'm Charissa, I've waited a long time for you.”

“Waited? For me?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, “waited for you. For 2118 years.”

I didn't know what to say, so she went on, “It is now the year 4135, if that way of counting time were still in use. Alas, it is not, since there are only two people known to be left alive on earth. You, and myself.”

Is it possible to faint in a dream?

Damned if I know.

I did, anyway.

Eighty-Nine

I woke to a brightening sky, with the constant lightning that was seen at night receding to a nearly unnoticed background event. Two thousand years sure had made the world go to hell in a handbasket and I wasn't supremely happy with having to share the planet with just one person, this Charissa. She really didn't have a nice vibe.

I drank some of my water supplies and went across to the pool house to refill my pot, just in case. After placing it in my safe cellar and barricading the door from the outside, I went exploring. With water taken care of, I knew I needed food within the week. I keenly remembered the survival rules. Without air, 5 minutes. Without water, 2 days, without food, 2 weeks. I didn't want to go to the wire on that, I needed food and raiding Safeway wasn't on.

The middle of the day found me in Santa Monica, going south towards Venice Beach. Unsurprisingly, there were no beach bunnies, no surfer dudes and no chainsaw jugglers. Muscle beach wasn't there anymore, without my knowledge of where it was, I couldn't have placed it. It was hard even knowing where it was and it brought home, once more, the ephemeral nature of things we, me included, in our time, took for granted. What can be granted can be taken away and as far as I can tell, everything had been taken away. This was a dead world.

I reached out, again, to the magical world, as I had done so many times in the preceding days, only to find, once again, that there was no response. No magic. Yet Charissa must have used magic to speak to me in my dreams. I knew I needed to speak to her again. As much as I dreaded the finality of her statement, there being no humans left on earth, I knew that without speaking to her, I was unprepared for this time, a babe in the woods, soon to die.

I headed back to what I was now forced to call home, a stark cellar with no creature comforts, no Stacy, no Alyssa. No one. Ever again.

I removed the barricades from the entrance of the cellar, then replaced them from the inside. Despite the sky being far from dark, I tried to find a dream state, a meditative state, or sleep. I needed to speak to Charissa. Sooner, rather than later.

“Welcome back.” the voice said, “I knew you would look me up again.”

Yeah. Fat chance of me not doing that. State the obvious, will ya?

“Yes, here I am. In 4135, no less. I have water, I have shelter. I have no food. Can you help with that?”

She hesitated for a moment, then said “I hadn't imagined it to be this way. So mundane. Asking about food, not the state of the world. But, I suppose I have to play the hand I was dealt.

“It was me who made sure adult Alyssa's past was covered up. It was me who planted doubt in the Council's minds. And it was me who made sure Raven, the caster you felt die, died.

“I was jailed centuries before you were born, for the simple fact of being what I am. What you are. We were a threat to the council. Using magical energy from places outside of oneself was disallowed. When they learned I could use magic from other sources but my core, I was jailed for eternity.

“You have the same power. You have used it before. If they got a hold of you in your own time, you'd be in the cell next to mine.”

I mulled that over for a moment, then asked “So where is your cell, and why are you out of it?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note:

I'm not usually into writing these, but my return to the site after 7 years does warrant a word or two. Since posting the last chapters in 2010, I have had to rebuild my life three times, leaving me no time to pursue idle pastimes like writing,

Apart from that, I also suffered writer's block, having written myself into a corner, muse forbid. I did find my way out, achieved my darker turn and I'm well on my track to publishing this first novel, ending with the real world story arc's end, on Amazon. Just always remember you read it here first!

For a moment, there was silence. I wondered if the question was out of place, that I would lose my only point of contact with the only other person still alive, well, according to her anyway.

After that agonizing moment, Charissa spoke again. "My cell is here, nor am I out of it."

She paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for me to grasp the reference, but then continued on. "What they call a cell isn't what you would call a cell. I wasn't locked up as much as I was locked out, slightly out of phase with all energy known to magic, I can but abide in a world of grey nothingness. No floor, no walls, no body. I have no physical needs, I am alone with my thoughts in an inescapable void.

"Millenia ago, I made a tiny hole, using the last of the pitiful amount of energy they had left me, in order to connect to the normal universe. A trickle of energy passes through it, very little and in no way enough to break free, if I had all time, which I do.

"Little as it is, it enabled me to perform small nudges, sending you that rune, cracking the ruby. I have no more power than that."

"You said you were waiting for me. How could you have known I'd wind up here?", I asked.

"I didn't", she replied, "you could have appeared anywhere and in any time, but it was likely it would be here and approximately this time.
"Once the energy carrying you along entered the dead age, it was diminishing rapidly, with losing its ability to hold you in only a matter of time.
"It actually dropped you earlier than I expected, thank fates. You can't imagine how boring it can be to look at a dead planet. Times moves funny here, but even so, it has been a long time."

"The dead age?", I asked.

"Yes. The age where a Council, drunken on power after defeating the Elders, decided to occupy earth, enslave the mundanes, build castles in the sky and reign supreme. The age where wholesale use of magic depleted earth's stores of it to the point where magic itself was distorted.
"Spells would misfire, causing large scale changes, for lack of energy to control them properly. Floating castles fell onto people's cities, wars started, resulting in carnage never before or since seen.
"The killing blow was a reality changing spell that was well intentioned, ill thought out and absolutely under-fueled.
"It was meant to change a fundamental frequency of magic, to give earth's magic a second lease on life, to make magic work again.
"It misfired, it changed a fundamental of the physical world instead."

"So why is it called the dead age?", I asked.

"Funny you should ask,", she said, "it changed the structure of every living cell on the planet. Plant, animal, no matter. Just not man.", she paused, then continued "There is nothing on this world you can eat."

I was in shock. Nothing I can eat. I would die. I had two weeks left to live. I would die alone, well, nearly alone, on a dead world. The overwhelming realization of my predicament made me break the connection, to roll up into a ball and cry. For Alyssa, Stacy, for a world I had left behind, to die two millenia later.

At some point, I managed to cry myself to sleep, but a pale, grey dawn under the ubiquitous clouds brought me to the point of waking. As I gained more awareness, I suddenly snapped awake with renewed panic. I had to do something. Fast.

I needed to speak to Charissa. I settled down to make a connection, but the whirlwind of emotions inside of me made that a fraught task. Eventually, I had to give up for the time being. I drank some water and opened my makeshift barricades to look around the outside.

The sky was, again, covered by the fast moving grey clouds, the colors of the world being leeched out by the pale, almost unearthly light. Up above, lightning lit the skies, something that, I supposed, was the new normal for this almost dead planet.

Life, as I was able to observe, consisted of small, scurrying animals that would forage in plain sight, seemingly without a care in the world. That seemed to indicate to me that they had no predators, something else to ask about when I was calmed down enough to reconnect with Charissa.

After a while, the sombre mood of the remains of the city, bathed in grey light, took its toll on me and I returned, dispirited but calmer, to the shelter and again barricaded the door. I had a suspicion that I wouldn't have needed to do this in the first place, but better safe than sorry.

Settling down to enter the meditative trance needed to connect to Charissa, I let my mind drift, looking for the right place to settle.

"I see you have returned", Charissa said.

"I tried to, earlier, but I could not find the peace of mind. It's an upsetting thought that I will likely die in two weeks", I said. I continued with my next question, "It seems there are no large animals out there. Do you know what happened?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do", she said, "the new structure of biological matter causes it to have much less biological energy, it's simply not enough that a large animal with a fast metabolism could survive on. Interfere with nature at your own peril. This is the result of sorcerers' hubris."

"So", I asked, "is there any point to me being here, to all these events that brought me here, is any of this your doing?"

"Oh my, two questions at once, where shall I start? The events that brought you here were wholly unplanned, no one, not even I, could have foreseen that you would discover how to unravel magic at that precise moment, that you would release the captured energy without remembering you had it.

"No, this was a natural chain of events, of my doing only to the point that I enabled the situation that allowed it to happen.

"In fact, you winding up here is a setback that needs to be rectified.

"The task is not easy and you will have to be the one to perform it. I can guide you to a certain point but after that point I will lose the ability to speak to you and you will be on your own."

"Rectified?", I asked, "does that mean going back?"

"Yes, it means going back, but it's not really straightforward. My time grows short, if I am to have enough energy to show you the way out, the questions need to stop now.

"Here's the short version of the situation you're in. You have not lost your powers. The wave swept away your energy, but then it merely dropped you here and now, in a place that has no free energy to recharge you. You have no powers because there is, literally, no energy left on the planet.

"However, you, like myself, can use energy from objects, from other people, from existing spells. There is one place on the planet where there is still magical energy in sufficient quantities to let you get back to your time. It is in the headquarters of the vanquished Elders.

"Which is in London. London, England. You will have to reach it in the week or so you have left."

"Aww, crap", I said with feeling. "With no infrastructure, no boats or planes, how can I reach London?"

"Ah yes, the tricky part", she said. Remember, you were supposed to be an assassin. There is a bomb in your tummy, you can't see it magically, at least not the way you would normally sense magic.
"You can use the method you used to destroy the spells on the headband to find it. It holds quite a bit of energy, and you will need it. The only way for you to get to London is a transportation spell. With all the risk that entails."

"Can anything ever be easy?", I asked.

"How would that be fun?", she said.

While I had no plans to die here, I would have to be careful that I don't free Charissa without wanting to. I would imagine that, after millenia in prison, she would be batshit crazy. While she seemed to be an uneasy ally, I would never even consider her a friend or think that her endgame would be better than the Council's was.
I would have to bide my time, watch my step and make sure that I made no mistakes, never played into anyone's hand. Here I was again, being the Lone Ranger when I wanted to build a team.
Oh well, here goes nothing.

I left the trance to start, magically, poking my tummy. Thus passed the rest of the day and evening, with me stopping only once it got too dark to see in my shelter. Outside, the strange non-night of this world, so much unlike the earth I knew that I could hardly reconcile the two, continued, making me doubt that I was still on the same planet, the third rock from the sun.

I woke to a change in weather. Instead of the constant calm I had experienced ever since landing here, it appeared that an almighty storm was raging outside. In the distance, a rhythmic hammering sound could be heard, sounding so manmade that it made me perk up. Could it be that life still existed, life beyond small rodents?

I decided to explore, waiting for the winds to subside a little, then gingerly venturing outside. The sound was clearer here, although it seemed to be miles away, it sounded quite steadily, with a muted metallic quality.

I set out to find the source of the sound. My journey drew me to the east, past downtown and into east LA. The banging was quite loud here, something so very unusual for this dead planet.

When I turned the corner of the building separating me from the sound, the nave of a church that was mostly standing, I found the source of the banging. No, there was no life here. None at all.

In the churchyard, on granite paving stones still mostly intact, lay the church bell, being rocked by the storm, the beater, loose inside the bell, rolling back and forth, creating the metallic noise.

I came to the realization that, truly, no man remained alive.

Dejected, I returned to the shelter, to continue finding that elusive bit of magic, now realizing that this excursion was only an attempt to stave off the frustrating search for the magic, the point where I was seemingly doomed to not find it, to die, here, now.

Making my way eastward on what used to be Hollywood Boulevard, I thought about my life. Passing places I used to know, Frederick's of Hollywood, Mann's Chinese Theatre, all lying in rubble and unrecognizable but by the layout of their foundations and me having seen them before, I realized that Charissa must have been rather economical with the truth.
These places didn't look like they had changed a bit from when I knew them, not as if humanity had lived and changed and built and rebuilt for centuries after I was pushed forward. No, these ruins looked like the dead age started only decades, not centuries, after my time.

I began to suspect that Charissa had a completely different agenda, that she had no intention to heal humanity, but only to rule in the Council's stead. That her imprisonment was not simply for having her abilities, but for abusing them.

Also, I began to wonder where the Sorcerers went. With the power they still had, they could have gone somewhere else, leaving Charissa in her confinement, maybe intentionally, maybe not. I suspected that the Sorcerers left before the collapse. Where to, I could not know, but I doubted the ones who were in power died from starvation. That was just the fate of the peons and maybe, just maybe, that spell didn't misfire after all.

Walking along with my musings, I drifted off into the world of cloak and dagger, second guessing everything an analyzing all that had happened, lessening my awareness of my surroundings.
That soon changed when my foot caught on something and I fell, rolling sideways and slipping down a steep drop. My head met the ground and then there was darkness.

I came to after nightfall. Examining my surroundings, I found I was in a well that had been dug into the floor of a collapsed basement. The well, tellingly, was dry, bringing home the fact that I needed to get out of here. I tried to move to get upright, but found that violent pain in my left ankle made that difficult. On further examination, the ankle appeared to be broken, not just sprained.

I was able to drag myself into an upright position using the wall and my right foot, but found that even hopping was too painful to contemplate and climbing was out of the question.

The roots of some plant were hanging into the well and, considering that I was light and strong, I thought I could maybe pull myself up using my hands and one leg.

With nothing to lose, I grabbed the roots and heaved myself upward. For a moment I experienced the elation of having found a way out, but then the ground gave and the roots sagged and deposited me right back on the floor. From above, some large stones fell down and onto my legs. I screamed and fainted from the pain.

Pain. A world of it. Consciousness slowly wormed its way back into my mind, it was what brought the pain with it. I tried to resist, to slip back into velvety, pain-free darkness, but consciousness insisted.

Without being able to move, I couldn't examine myself, but I suspected, from the level of pain and where it came from, that now both my legs were broken. I felt I was in an inescapable situation, fated to die here even earlier than I thought. No trance would come, the pain put paid to that.

Somewhere, unconsciously, much like it did before, in pain and with no way out, my innermost self grabbed for every straw it could see and even those it could not.
It found magic.

Diving into the magic inside my tummy, I analyzed the big blob of energy they had placed in me. It lacked finesse, it lacked the beauty of the ancient spells, a crudely made weapon without poetry, without balance, without art.

I didn't care. It was energy, after all.

Being adept at levitation, the rocks proved a minor obstacle, as did the hole. It felt so good to finally have that connection to power again, the clarity of mind that comes from running at full energy was exhilarating. I levitated myself to the remains of the sidewalk, near the root that I had tripped over and concentrated on healing, welcoming the bliss of pain relieved.

With my batteries on full again for the first time since forever, I was keenly aware that what I had in myself, and what was left of the device, was all the energy this forsaken place had to offer. I needed to get to London. I didn't doubt Charissa's information about that part, since my dying here would not help her at all, she needed me to get back and until I got back, I would be safe.

While I did read up on transportation spells, the deeply worrying and discouraging remarks on them had made me read them more cursorily than I would otherwise have, because I simply wanted to know they are there and how the basics worked, I never studied with a view to actually casting one.

I got up, fully healed, and made my way to the shelter. Here, I dropped into the required trance to speak to Charissa once again.

"Hello?", I asked into the void.

"You were gone for a long time. I had started to worry. I'm am glad to see you again. What happened?"

I answered, "I fell into a hole. Emotionally. I had to drag myself back out. It wasn't easy." I was not about to tell her about my actual misadventure, nor would I disclose my new command of magic just yet.

"I m glad you managed it. Any success with the energy yet?", she asked.

"Sorry, but no. I was hardly in a state for that", I replied.

"Oh yes, I should not have asked."

"When I do find the energy, how do I get hold of a transportation spell?", I asked.

"Once you succeed, you need to go downtown. Find the Crowne Plaza hotel, or what is left. Near where the foundation meets the pavement, there is a brass strip inset into the hotel, it goes all the way around. Some part must still exist. It, in nonmagical runes that won't startle humans, has a transportation spell. It was created a long time ago, when the chamber wasn't accessible any other way and the tradition has been alive all the way to the dead age. The building under which the council chambers were always had this brass strip. Of course, in your day, the chamber was reached by elevator.
Learn the spell, and then I can give you the coordinates to use for it instead of he council chamber's coordinates, and it will take you to London.

I nodded, then became aware she could probably not see it, and sent "Yes, I see. I will contact you when I have news."

I decided to use a small amount of energy to conjure edible food, some wholemeal bread, lettuce and cheese and some apples to eat on the way. Eating the bread, cheese and lettuce sandwiches, drinking some of my water, I felt halfway human again. Or Sorceress. Whatever.

Having slept, I set out for downtown again. Down familiar streets, I stubbornly set foot before foot to eventually arrive in the center of what used to be one of the planet's most important cities. Desolation surrounded me and I wondered what I would find at my destination.

The Crowne Plaza was an impressive place when it still stood. Four interconnected towers, bars, restaurants and much more filled the space in a building that never slept. What I saw was the remains of that great building, stretching several hundred feet to the east, covering the area of 8 or 10 football fields with rubble piled high.

My only chance to find that spell was to the west, on land the towers had not fallen onto. There, maybe, I had a chance to see a section of the brass strip that was long enough to recover the spell from.
I reached the base of the tower at noon, looking for the telltale brownish color of tarnished brass. I didn't find it. A weathered groove, adorned with chisel marks, showed where my salvation had been stolen, a long time ago.

Moving around the rubble, I sought entry into the piles of rocks, to reach some other part of the foundations, but to no avail. Places where I almost reached my goal were, at the very last yard, blocked by huge pieces of concrete.

After backtracking and searching so many times that I lost count, I finally managed to get another glimpse of the foundations. The rocks made up that part of the building's base may be totally out of reach now, but I could see that even here, the strip was missing. It must have been stolen before the towers collapsed. Nothing was left of it, I was sure then.

My glance idly swept the rubble, looking for, if nothing else, inspiration. That was when it hit me like a ton of bricks. There it was plain as day, an electrical outlet on a piece of wall. My phone! I had taken pictures of some spells that could be photographed and the transportation spell was one of them!
I pulled the phone from my pocket and pressed the button, to be greeted with a black screen. Dead battery, now of all times!

No generator could have survived 2 millenia, no power plant was conveniently working, and no batteries with a charge could exist anymore.
I had one chance to get this right, just one. Make it work, or blow my phone.

I started filling power into a reservoir apart from the main place I kept energy. Not that that was really a place, magic doesn't work that way, but language doesn't suffice to describe it correctly. What I did was collect some energy in a way that it would flow smoothly and steady, not prone to surging as my normal energy was.
I was aided by the fact that I was using energy that was processed in a very mechanical, artless way, it made the flow very predictable.

Using a variant of the lightning spell, I converted the energy to electricity, at a constant rate. Locating the battery inside my phone, I directed the energy into the terminals. I had decided against trying to use the charge connector because I had heard that they weren't really straightforward and I was no electronics person.
After what seemed like eons, the screen lit up with the boot logo and a minute later I was dumped to the app screen of my phone.

Swiping through the photos, I finally located the images of the spell book with the transportation spell in it. Leafing through the pages, a lot of other useful spells came into view, only to be ignored in the all-encompassing desire for the one spell that would get me closer to recovering my love, my life.
There it was, before my eyes, and greedily soaking up the runes, I made it my life's goal to learn that spell, to perfection. I had to, without it I would not have life left.

I was not in a sharing mood, so I didn't even consider contacting Charissa, but rather would, in a more hypothetical fashion, contact her from London, making her believe I had just then found the magic, and again asking about next steps, extract the information on what to do in London while making her believe I wasn't there yet.

A dangerous game, but I was gambling on her not wanting to waste energy on surveilling me when she had so little left. I suspected her of some untruth there, because how could a trickle of magic reach her in her cell when there was no magic outside to trickle in? I suspected she was running wholly on batteries and would lose all access to the world if she ever bottomed out. For her, this was certainly the endgame.

I opened the maps app, only to find that it needed a long dead internet to work, just like pretty much everything else on that cursed device. Finally, I opened world clocks and there it was, plain as day, London in the list of selections, with coordinates displayed. I used a rock to scratch the coordinates into the wall of the shelter. Taking no chances, I dropped the flow of energy to the phone, which defiantly stayed on. I must have put some charge into the battery, it showed about 1/4 full. That could be handy, so I turned the phone off to conserve the charge.

Now was the time, without hesitation, to cast the spell while it was fresh in my mind. Substituting the coordinates for London into it, I visualized the spell, powered it and invoked the purple glowing rune in my mind. The world went black. And stayed that way.

I cautiously felt around in pitch darkness, finding myself in a narrow concrete ditch. Overhead a metal rail could be felt that gave enough space on either side to easily get out of the pit that was only 2 feet deep. Standing up, I felt around, feeling a concrete floor and more rails. I cast a cantrip to light my surroundings, a dim, party favor style spell that cost almost no energy at all.

I saw that I was in a subway station, they call it the "Tube" there, having landed in the ditch under the rails that is designed for people falling under trains to have a chance at survival. I climbed up onto the platform and followed the once lit signs that read "Way out". What a funny way to say "Exit", I thought.

After several levels of escalators, I fetched up against an entrance blocked by debris. A nearby map showed the station to have another exit at the other end of the platform, so I made my way back down, to the other end of the platform, and up again, finally emerging onto ground level. A tiled sign on the platform had stood the test of time and told me that I was now in a place called "Seven Sisters".
Whatever that meant.

I holed up in a somewhat intact ground floor of a building to hunker down for the night. I was exhausted and not in any shape to fool Charissa as I had to, so I decided to forgo speaking to her for now.

The next morning I woke refreshed. I took a small amount of water from one of the jugs I had brought from LA, carefully replacing the plug of vegetable matter I had made to keep it from spilling.

The water tasted stale, with a hint of grass, but beggars can't be choosers. I used a little energy to conjure two apples, which I ate immediately. Apples could get old, but I didn't think I would need to analyze and memorize a whole lot of food and the apples were something I only got proficient at because I used to conjure them to give to Alyssa, who positively adored them.

I then proceeded to drop into the communications trance, something that became easier each time I did it. I was just about to call out when I heard a faint voice. Charissa. Talking. Not to me. I faded back to listen.

"No, I tell you, she's seeking for the magic."

"You do know you're going to be in that cell forever if she fails, right?"

"Yes master, I do."

"Then see that she doesn't. This place isn't as nice as we thought, we want to reclaim earth. You will be rewarded for her sacrifice."

"Yes master, thank you, master"

I withdrew, quietly. Suspicions confirmed, even here, even now, duplicity ruled.

The council. It would have been in a place of power. In London, that was Westminster. A handful of important buildings. Find the one with a brass strip. Easy. Right.

Casting magical sight, I took a birds eye view of the city, found a direction and set off to the seats of power, magical and mundane.

Wandering the streets of central London, seemingly without aim, but in fact on a route to hit all the places of power, I traversed Westminster, Whitehall and the Square Mile. I had half expected the ribbon of brass on the palace of Westminster, or the abbey, or anywhere else, but I was most surprised to finally find it at the Shard.

A modern and, in my eyes, ugly building, it didn't ooze history or tradition at all. Rather, new fast money and a sense of urgency were what characterized that building. I mean, The Shard, really?

Reading the band, I quickly gained the needed set of coordinates and, reformulating my tried and true transportation spell, I plugged in the coordinates and invoked the spell.

When I hit the ground, I was hit by a wave of magic, a groundswell of energy designed to power a massive attack. Reacting quickly, I absorbed the energy before it could trap me, reflecting some of it back at where It came from. A magical contraption, dimly seen through a shield, exploded, taking down the shield as it went. Shrapnel peppered my skin, causing numerous bleeding injuries I had to stop and heal to avoid blood loss.

It seemed that, having discovered elevators, anyone using the transportation spell instead was considered a foe and would be attacked. I realized that that was exactly what would have happened to me in LA, had the spell not been stolen.

That, however, meant that Charissa or those she was in contact with, would have knowledge of this trap having been triggered. My jig was up, I needed to find the way home on my own.

Leaving the trap room, I gingerly moved into the halls of the council. Yes, Charissa hadn't lied, there was much energy here, stored in magical batteries I only ever heard about, but never seen, as well as in ancient artifacts filling the shelves and display cases.

There had to be a library, there had to be a record of the event I vanished in, there had to be a book to show the way back.

These rooms had been magicked to stop decay, they were as pristine as the day they were last dusted. I opened a double door off the council chamber to find myself in a library. Six stories high and the size of a football field, with rows of shelving spaced 9 feet apart, the books here must number in the millions.
How would I ever find the book if Charissa could not be trusted?

I decided that I would leave that question for another day, what's a day when the matter is two millenia?

I dropped my pack, then dropped where I stood to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I woke in a disoriented state, the light, the wind I had gotten used to, absent. I was lying on luxurious carpet, in a room lit by a soft, indirect glow.

Then my world snapped into focus as I remembered that I had made it to London, to the chambers of the Council. Deserted, of course, as they fled to another realm after defeating the Elders and ruining earth.

I looked upon the great library again with awe, when an idea came to me. Why should I hurry? I had all the time in the world, all the time in the universe!

The funny thing that most forget about time travel is that, once you travel, you can go back to anywhere. I could take 100 years and study magic here, use the batteries meant for far more people than myself, take energy from the artifacts filling the shelves to make my jump back when I was ready. Sure, the fare I could conjure was rather bland and limited, but if I wanted to succeed in this, I would need this knowledge and the training with it.

I was missing Alyssa and Stacy fiercely, yet at the same time I knew that when I went back, not a second would need to have passed for them, I could use my new skills to save them and put the Council in its place.

I could teach others, yes, we could win this. Finally, I found a way to win this war that I was drawn into without wishing for it. They may have started the war, but I would end it.

I took a full charge from a battery, then transported myself into the tube station at Seven Sisters. Settling down into a communications trance, I listened for Charissa. This time, I did not get to overhear any interesting conversations, so I called out to her.

"I am here" was the reply.

"I have made it to London", I said, "I am in a Tube station, but there is no exit from it. I may have to go along the tunnels."

She replied, "Could you not transport outside?"

I answered, "I feel like I have maybe one small jump left, then I will have no more energy. I will need that to get into the council chambers, so I can't use it here."

"True, true", she said, "then I suppose the tunnels it will be, for you."

"So, once I get there, what am I looking for? How would I even begin to know how to make my way back in time?", I asked.

"Time is a funny thing", she said, "it keeps wanting to go back to what it should have been.
"You will find, if you can just get enough energy, you will gravitate to the place and time you left. I myself am running low on energy, so I will retire now, please let me know when you're inside."

"Will do", I said, lacking any intention to do so. Instead, I transported myself back into the warm, cosy, lit and energy-filled chambers of the council. Let her believe the guarding spell got me, she won't hear from me again, I thought to myself, now it's time to study.

I looked at the library, the overwhelming size of it, and apparent no index I could see, and I had to remind myself who I was doing for to avoid sinking into a dispirited heap. But I felt it had to be this way, so I proceeded to pull the first volume out at random.

Horticultural magic. Not really what I needed. I pulled another book them the same shelf, same thing. One above, same thing, below, same thing. I stack to the left, same. Another to the left. Zoology and animals. I was beginning to see a pattern there.

Even without an index, the books were grouped in a sensible way and I may only need to check 6000 or so titles to map out the overall sectioning of the library. Yay, once more into the breach!

I had found a number of writing desks, with paper, parchment, vellum and another paperlike stuff that I suspected was the special material a sorcerer could use to spell an otherwise uncopiable spell onto. I hadn't yet found a hint of that spell, but Alyssa had hinted at it and I had gained experience with spells that could not be memorized, where a footnote said the to cast them more then once, they would have to be copied, one copy per cast, and read from scrolls directly.

A month went by, waking, eating the same few things, reading, sleeping.

I had a pretty decent map of the library by now, knowing which class of book was to be found where. I had found protective magic, defensive magic, offensive magic, disgusting magic and magic too evil to contemplate.

Nothing about time travel, or copying spells. I had found a small apartment in an annex to the library, having the usual amenities like a bed, wet room, something like a small kitchenette and a desk.

No food stores, though, and no fresh linen. I suppose cleaning was either done by servants outside the library proper, or by magic, but if it was magic, I never found how or where.

I did it the old fashioned way, in the shower, hanging it over the library banisters to dry.

About four months in, I made a discovery. A door that was so unnoticeable that I hadn't seen it until now, when opened showed a steel plate with a barely visible seam, otherwise completely featureless, with no lock or lever in sight. Opening it would likely need magic.

Six months on, my head was spinning every day. I would get up, do the necessary, study spells and transport out into the city to practice. If I had my life back, if I had company, if I had a teacher, this might have been fun.

It is not when you have to go it alone. If London hadn't been in ruins already, It would be now.

Over the course of the next twenty years, I kept coming back to the mysterious steel panel, but nothing would budge it. It would resist all magical exploration, seemingly stopping magic just below the visible surface as if that was a property of the material. There was no discernible spell and no magical device I could feel, explore or take apart. Using brute force only gave me a headache, but no other results.

I thought back briefly to the day I had arrived here, wondering if Charissa had known about the guardian spell on the library and thought me dead. I didn't dare stick my head out, it would have given my game away, so I would never practice trances anywhere but inside the library, which was shielded from the outside world.

I had made sizable inroads into the library, I had learned so much. With new skills comes more power handling capacity, and that in turn brings more room to store spells, memories.

One day, I will be creating happy memories again, one day this will be over. That was all that made me get up every day, to the drudgery of learning, learning, learning.

It was about sixty years in that I found myself lacking the energy to get out of bed. I had lost all motivation, I conjured food and went to sleep again, leaving bed only for the necessary calls of nature. I would toss and turn, trying to not think, often succeeding. I was thinking I should just end it all, my memories of times past so dull and colorless, leached out as if illuminated only by the grey, pale light that ruled the world outside of this enclave of knowledge and despair.

This went on for quite a while, but one day I was drifting into another day of doing absolutely nothing, when, clear as day, I heard "Mommy, where are you?" I cried out in my mind, "Alyssa, baby, are you there?", but there was only silence.

I got up, noted that 2 years had passed, and went back to work, having remembered who all this was for, in the end.

I think I remember there is more to life than this. I managed to find a candle, set it on a saucer and lit it. This was my centennial celebration. Bread, lettuce, cheese, apples. Yay.

Today, I made a remarkable discovery. I found a reference to a door that cannot be opened. It was described as wooden, but otherwise matched the behavior of the steel panel that had been puzzling me, keeping me awake more nights than I can count.

It described a spell that would be cast on a room, which must have one and only one door and no windows. It would make the entire room impregnable, impossible to scry, impossible to transport into, impervious to any force natural or supernatural.

It further described that the door is sealed by the personality of the casting mage and that the only thing that could open it would be an artifact that was present at the sealing, and the caster's true, birth, name. Easy peasy, right?

Something told me I needed to get into this room, that it would have the secret or artifact that would let me fix the situation my world was in. Without it, I felt, history would be doomed to repeat itself. I was pretty sure that the caster would have taken the artifact with him, but the spell didn't really say that there would be only one artifact, it said, literally, 'an artifact present at the time of sealing'.

I decided that I needed to attempt to pick up the door's sympathetic vibrations. I made my bed in front of the door, leaning against it, and opened my mind to sleep.

I woke up feeling the same as every day. No mystic knowledge had revealed itself over night and an apple didn't seem to be the key to the door, but I ate it anyway.

Leaning back into the door, I did feel a slight resonance with something I had built inside of me. The door may not be the best and most comfortable place to sleep, but needs must. I heaved the mattress from the bed to the door, intending to read, study and sleep by the door, and mostly in contact with it when possible, for the foreseeable.

But damn, that thing was cold.

I had moved on from practical magic to history of magic, it appears that that is very important to know indeed, not from an abstract scholar's point of view, but instead because history can show me, in lieu of failing for myself, what has been tried and what didn't work. Trying to solve a situation with a spell where others had failed would get me killed or worse, and I now believe that 'worse' is a very real thing, from studying these spells. Oh yes, there was both a 'worse' and a 'much worse'. I didn't want to experience such outcomes.

I read about great magical warriors, august personages of peace, shining examples, abject failures, and magical criminals.

Eight years in, I found the volume that told the story of Charissa.

Charissa, as I had almost expected, was a child born to an offshoot of my family, in times humanity had forgotten. Even then my family had decided to renounce their powers and live normal, mortal lives for normal, mortal lifespans.

Not Charissa, though. Even though she was never told about her powers, the family itself having almost forgotten about them, she manifested wild magic and needed to be taught. In those days, the spells that could be used to permanently sever a sorcerer's connection to the magic world were not known, but even later those counted as controlled spells known only to the council. The only way her peers knew to prevent disaster was to teach her magic.

As the years went by, the family came to resent that decision because it caused them to be drawn back into the magical circles they had left behind.

Charissa turned out to be a manipulative woman and many in the family, quietly, held the opinion that the whelp should have been strangled in the cradle.

Charissa, as a child, took great pleasure in destroying things others held to be of value, and entering into her teens she deconstructed a number of complex magical artifacts. It went so far that she was barred and warded from entering places where such artifacts existed.

She did benefit from the fact that, in those times, the art of creating the artifacts hadn't been lost, not all of it anyway. Most of the damage was rectifiable and it was thought that she would mature and eventually let go of the childish destructive tendencies.

Alas, it was not to be.

During the celebration of the great conjunction in 1226, the great orrery was brought from the vault where it was hidden. The properties of the orrery ware such that it would follow the actual planets without a need for gears and mechanical things, and, at times of great conjunctions, would alert the magical community about dangers, upheavals and persecution to come for the time of the great conjunction to the time of the next one.

Charissa jumped the barrier and drained the orrery dry. It was the only one of its kind, it's origins lost in mists and no one could have recreated it, it being the result of the great celestial magics of the past.

Even that alone did not lead to her current sentence, although punishment was applied.

It was in 1320, when the great witch hunts started, that the council, needing a scapegoat to explain the horrendous loss of life among those with powers, remembered Charissa and put her on trial for destruction of the orrery, which, they claimed, could have warned them.

Her sentence was to be brought out of phase of all magic by six degrees. She would exist forever in a void, slowly going mad. This was one of the most severe punishments meted out in those days, and she got it in spades because she got no release date.

So, now I knew. The council must have reached out to her after the dead age, to try and use her as an instrument to take back earth, believing her to be desperate for contact, subjugating her to their will, just based on her desire to have someone to speak to.

I didn't believe they had broken her yet, but if I had anything to do with it at all, she was not getting out of that cell.

Strangely, finally knowing brought no peace of mind. It was just facts from a book, with no human depth. My human depth was with my family, not in this one-dimensional life I lived now, but my day would come.

Ten years had gone by in a blink, grey day fading into grey day, when one morning, I realized that, slowly, over time, something had changed. The door now had a discernible magical feel, a frequency or signal, it wasn't blank anymore.

I still could not read it, I could not penetrate it, or drain it, but I could feel it and the feeling stayed with me even after leaving the door. That was certainly new.

Making my way to the artifact room, I started touching each and every one of them, over and over, looking for resonance. Artifact room was a misnomer if there ever was one, it was a chain of grand halls, lined with shelves of artifact that the council had collected over the millenia, or more likely, stolen.

It took two weeks worth of days, or thereabouts, to find it.

The resonance was impossible to overlook, it was impossible to not latch onto it. I sprang forward, my search finally done, and I gripped the cane that was giving off the strong signal.

A cane, how apt. Older members of the Council had, at some point, taken on an affectation of age, in order to emulate the Elders they wanted to supplant. If the caster was the user of this cane, of course it would have been present of no one would have thought twice about it. The cane, of course, was spelled, making it into a magical artifact, and thus was stored here after the late Councillor's departure.

Bringing the cane with me, I hurried through the halls to the door. These days I didn't really hurry anymore, why should someone who has all the time in the universe hurry? But this find had really kindled a material hope to rejoin my loved ones safely, to complete this mission, end this war, save earth. No small task but I felt as if I was only moments away from the tools I needed to complete it.

Reaching the door, I placed the cane against it, watching, with my magical sight, how vibrations began to align and tendrils of magic started to connect the cane to the door.

I had my in! The door had dropped the pretense of being an inert slab of steel, it started interacting with the cane and the cane, unlike the door, was not spelled to be impenetrable.

Using my special power, I tapped the power of the cane, not to unravel it but to ride piggyback into the very heart of the door's spell.

To say I was blown away would be saying a supernova is a candle. I had seen my share of artifacts, even ancient ones, and had taken them apart while having no knowledge of how they were made in the first place.

I had by now spent 160 years studying spells and I knew this spell well. I knew how to cast it and how it worked, but using my special sense of magic to actually see it, it turned out to be a piece of art, a thing of beauty on the level of other ancient spells which I had observed in artifacts here over the years. Knowing it is dry text, seeing it is poetry, I mused as I explored the carefully interlocking pieces that made this door so impenetrable. I would not want to deconstruct this, not because of its beauty, though, but because doing so would obliterate the contents of the room is was made to protect.

I hunted across the rooms and open spaces of the spellscape within this door spell, looking for the corner where the truth would be hidden, my heart full of hope that there would not be yet another set of impossible safeguards.

There were none. Few were known to magic who could read this and all known persons with the ability were dead or in eternal prison. There was no safeguard. When I found it, I tried to shout it out, but I found I could not. I had not spoken aloud for 160 years, I simply was out of practice.

I sat down, practicing basic vowels, breathing techniques, guttural and clicking sounds and started practicing reading normal English text. After about 2 days, I felt confident, although my own voice sounded strange to my ears, to say the words.

So mundane, a name, as the key, I spoke, "Nathaniel Edward Price."

Without so much of a click, the door opened, knocking down the cane still leaning against it.

The room behind the door was unlit, but the open door beckoned me like nothing else in a century, I gingerly took hold of the edge, opened it up all the way and cast a light.

There was very little in the room. Eight artifacts, about twelve books, chained to the shelf. A small reading desk and a light.

I sat down and took the first book of the shelf. A spell triggered, projecting into my mind. "You who have come to seek the greatest darkness of them all, beware for you will be changed forever. Never teach what you see, never try to take a book. Peruse, for the sake of magical knowledge but never use these spells. The world will end if you do."

I knew I had found what I needed when I saw the first book's title. 'A magical treatise on the in depth exploration of time'.

I turned the page. Time travel was real.