The 13th Mage (3 page)

But Sean was waiting for her outside the shop when she got there, he looked very upset.

“I have to go to an interview today,” he said quickly, taking her hand in his, “I was wondering if you would lend me your ring for good luck,”

His sense of urgency worried her.
He looked so nervous, he’d been looking for a part time job for a while now, and this was his first interview.
She smiled and handed him her ring, she wished she could kiss him, but Mrs. Laire was staring at them from the clothes shop across the road.

“I love you,” she whispered loud enough for only him to hear.

“Oh, Jennifer, my love,” he said and reached over to kiss her.
She pulled back and tried to look casual.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “I want us to be a
secret for as long as possible. Y
ou have no idea what it’s like, living in a small town.”

He looked down at the floor,
he was clearly very distressed. S
he
regretted
her thoughtlessness and took his face in her hands.
She was about to kiss him but Sean moved away this time.

He kissed each hand in turn and stroked her face. Then turned and left.

She lo
oked across the road and saw a large
grin on Mrs. Liare face.

She watched him as he disappeared dow
n the street, he was very upset. I
f only she could have given him a good luck kiss
,
she thought as she walked into the shop, after all the cat was out of the bag now anyway. Hopefully her mother wouldn’t start planning the wedding yet.

Sean turned the corner, broke down and cried.
It had been a long time since he had cried and he felt quite foolish, but he loved that girl and couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her again.

He cried for the life they wouldn’t have, he cried for his broken heart, he cried for the
contemn
she would feel for him when she
realiz
ed he had gone.
When she
realiz
ed she was pregnant.
He cried for not being strong enough to fight them, keep her safe. He cried for the baby he would never meet.

He sat by the curb and cried until there were no more tears to cry, he then got up and put the ring on his little finger.

He wanted to take a lock of her hair but the
Old Ones
might take it off him and then they would be able to locate her.
No, he would take her ri
ng, they wouldn’t take her ring as
it was made of metal
and they couldn't go near metal
.

He breathed his last breath of freedom and disappeared into a tree.

Jennifer looked at her watch, he was late. Day trippers had already gone.
The only people left in the beach were some of the locals taking their evening walk.
The sun had set and twilight bathed the sand, Jennifer had read somewhere that twilight was the gap between the worlds. She looked up and down the beach once again.
Her mother would be closing the shop soon and would expect her to be home by the time she got there.

She looked down at her
mobile phone
, no missed calls, and no messages.
She didn’t quite know why she bothered looking at it really, Sean didn’t have a phone.

She got up, picked up her bike and walked home.

The next day was worse, she had left early for work and called on Sean’s bed-sit, the man had told her he had paid his bills and returned his keys the previous day.
The day after that Jennifer told her mother she was going to go out with some friends and waited for Sean at their usual place until well after dark.

Thinking back she
realiz
ed he had left his bed-sit before he came to the shop, he knew he was leaving yet he hadn’t said goodbye. Why?

Days went slowly past.
After a week her heart was so heavy she didn’t get out of bed.

“I heard there was a flu virus going round,” her mother said, “it starts with the sniffles and a fever.”

“I don’t have the flu, mom.”

Esther felt Jennifer’s forehead, then took her pulse, “you don’t have a temperature,” she said puzzled, “I’ll call the doctor, make an appointment,” she added.
There were many things Esther could cope with but having her only child sick was not one of them.

“No mom, it’s alright, I
’m just... ate
something bad or something, I just need to rest for a couple of days, I’ll be fine.”
How would she be
able to tell the doctor she was heartbroken because her boyfriend had left without a word?
No she would just take a couple of days off, she felt exhausted.

The next week was worse than the first, she didn’t think it possible but it was true.
She lost her appetite and started getting sick all day long.
All she wanted to do was sleep, but when she did manage to fall asleep terrible nightmares plagued her mind.
She saw herself being led by an old man, a ruthless, evil man.
He would travel through the world taking whatever he wanted, killing or maiming anyone who dared get in his way. Joitan was his name, “you and me joined forever,” he would say to her and she would be pleased,
hono
red. The nightmares would leave her tired, breathless and covered in cold sweat.

The weeks passed and the nightmares subsided, she started feeling herself again, started getting back to her old routine.

On Tuesdays she usually got the shopping for Mrs. Crow, another volunteer had been doing it while she was sick, she went to fetch the list and money during lunch.
Mrs. Crow took one look at her and asked her to come into the house.

“How’s the nausea?” she asked as a matter of fact.

“Very bad,” Jennifer answered before she had time to think.

Mrs. Crow tapped the sofa beside her and poured some tea.

“How old are you now Jennifer?”

“Twenty three, Mrs. Crow, twenty four in a few months.”

“Th
at’s good. A
t least you are over the age of consent.
Being a single mother is hard enough without age coming into it.
If you were younger they would probably try to get the baby adopted.”

Jennifer was about to ask, what baby? But the look in Mrs. Crow said it all.
She felt the blood drain from her face, “no, I’m not… I mean I’m just upset because...”

“And the boy...
is he around?”

Jennifer felt her hands and feet go cold and numb, her heart began to throb, tears welled behind her eyes.

Mrs. Crow took her in her arms, “there, there my child.
You’ll be just fine.”

The problem with having such a young body was that it was addictive.

Owen had thought about speeding up the aging process but it wasn’t advisable to do so for any length of time, it was better to let the body age or get younger at its own pace, the mortal pace.

Now he found he wanted to stay looking twenty forever, this society loved youth.
It worshipped youth.
Women flocked to him like bees to honey.

He could feel the
morning
heat enter his young bones and wished for dip in a cold river.
Santorcaz was not it’s best in late summer, too many people, strangers, came to stay to get away from the heat of Madrid, but he had decided to stay there until autumn, long enough to work out a plan of action.

He had been working on the clue the Keeper had given him, it seemed rather odd, a small pink shawl with ribbons all around.
It had to be an
important clue on how to pass his test.
All he had to do now was to find out what it meant.

He reached into his pocket and took out a little notepad and pen, “
Spain
, Keeper, clue.
What’s the puzzle?” he read the words over and over. If he passed the test he would be able to keep the promise
to
his adoptive mother, Aeoife, all those centuries before. He would practice the Way of the Witch for 100 years and at the same time he would become
Staff
Holder, as long as the elders didn’t find out about him becoming a witch, which they wouldn’t as no elder in their right mind would become lesser than they already were.

The Way of the Witch was a craft unknown to Council Elders, it was alien, worked in a different sphere of reality, he couldn’t imagine any
witch being more powerful than himself but if the Keeper said they were then he was sure they were.

The Keeper had appeared at the allotted time, but why had she given him a shawl?
In the middle of summer?
He wrote, “Shawl is for number
1
3,” then put the note pad away.
The writing was coded and no one would ever be able to break the code.
He kept several of these notepads.
It helped him keep tags on all the important events in his life, which would otherwise disappear
on
a
flow of centuries.

Looking in the mirror he noticed he looked much more respectable now, no more spots, probably due to all the sunbathing he had been doing at the local pool.
He reached over to the girl who lay o
n his bed and stroked her thigh. S
he gave a little moan and smiled.

Owen could stay with her forever if he so wished, but it was time
to
get some serious library visiting done.

“You have to leave. Y
our husband will be waking up any minute now.”

“Is that the time?
I have to go now darling,” she said jumping out of bed and pulling her clothes on.

He thought it a pity to have to have to leave Santorcaz, but there were no good windows to the archives in the small town.
The best access places were forgotten corners of old libraries, not quite archives, they were more like lines of thought which had been recorded into the common
human database of
wisdom.

Mortals would shy away from these corners as it made them nervous, if they stayed too long near one they would get butterflies in their stomach and an uncontrollable urge to get away.
If they persevered it was possible they would tap into the information, but other mortals would simply say they had gone quite mad.

He sat back to watch the girl get dressed, her bikini had left her breasts and buttocks white, the rest of her was a beautiful golden brown.

They kissed goodbye and promised each other eternal love, she then ran down the stairs
and out of the old building
.

He watched her jog across the plaza and down the street.
He wasn’t looking forward to this departure.

“Forget.”

The girl slowed her pace, jogging in the mornings had been the best idea she’d had all summer, it tired her out though, she felt exha
usted. She’d have a little lie-
in before her husband woke up.
Owen left Santorcaz
later that day. F
or
the first two months he simply traveled
the world having a whale of a time with the excuse of researching the meaning of shawls and their use in magic.

One of his stops was
Brazil
. He had a house there and staff
who took care that the jungle
didn’
t take it over.
He sent a letter of recommendation to his solicitors in
London
, introduc
ing himself as his own grandson. He had given
himself access to whatever was necessary for the next few months, which he planned to spend in
London
.

The plan had originally been to pretend to be his own son, but Harry Johnson, his solicitor, knew Owen as a ninety year old man.
It would be more convincing to present himself as his own grandson.
The less they questioned the better.

Trave
ling was great in this century, what would have taken him a year to travel half a century earlier he had finished in two months, one hour in one country the next in another.
What mortals had been up to since he had gone into invisible mode was incredible.

Soon they would be as powerful as mages! He thought.

Mortal communication technology had jumped the light barrier too, O
wen had discovered the Internet. It amazed him
to watch the
energy
threads jump from one country to another.
But surfing the electronic waves
crashed
a lot of servers, leaving him stranded in all
sort of strange and wonderful offices, so he stuck to us
ing the Internet the mortal way, with a computer.

It would have been much faster for him to do his research on an ethereal level but he didn’t want any other Elders keeping tags on him.
Much better to do it on the physical level for as long as possible, Elders were well known for their incapacity to stay in their physical bodies for very long, most had the minimum physical presence needed to exist at all, their bodies kept on minimum metabolism just to keep themselves alive.
It was one of the reasons why Owen liked it in the mortal universe, this was his territory.

He was also considered an authority in mortal matters, and he didn’t really know that much about mortals
at all
.

After much sex and some library research he found out that shawls were mainly for warmth, protection, love, invisibility and nurturing.
Shawls could have many uses within magic, but it was an item mostly found within the confines of a witch’s cove,
particularly
a shawl
like the one he now possessed, pink, soft and with ribbons on all four corners.

It was in
London
that he finally made a breakthrough.

He hadn’t been to
London
for a very long time.
He usually stayed at a hotel, it was comfortable and anonymous.
But for this visit he had decided to stay at one of his
London
residences.
He would also contact old acquaintances, or as he told everyone, “his grandfather’s acquaintances.” He looked so young now that no one would
recogniz
e him.

He didn’t have many mortals he considered friends, and even less so immortals.
But he held Harry Johnson in high esteem.
Harry had been one of the few mortals he had ever trusted.
He remembered Harry as a studious young
man, his father’s pride and joy. T
hey had become relatively close in those days.
Now Harry was old but still working and still in charge of the O’Neil Estate.

The old man was delighted to have news of his friend Owen senior, especially to know that he was still going strong in
Brazil
, married to a young beauty queen and doing very well in all respects.

“What ever happened to Owen Junior, your father?” Harry asked.

Owen took another sip of his tea, he should have thought of all this before coming, it was an oversight he wouldn’t have made had he the body of a fifty year old.

“Dad,
passed away in a racing accident, broke Granddad’s heart, but he has me now, so the inheritance is safe.”

“Take after your grandfather don’t you.
You have as much tact as a bull in a china shop,” Harry said laughing to himself.

Owen could never quite get Harry’s little personal jokes, but it was good to be with him again, he hadn’t expected to find him alive
and
looking so fit
and well.

“It’s obvious your grandfather holds you in high esteem looking at these figures,” the old man said holding the letter of recommendation he had received from Owen Senior a few days earlier, “the house in
Oak Place
, the European portfolio.
Tell me young man, what are you going to do with all of this?”

“Well, make it grow Mr. Johnson, that’s what all the O’Neil’s have done and always will do.”

Harry Johnson smiled and leaned back, if there were any doubts in his mind about the boy’s identity this dispelled them immediately, the young fellow couldn’t be more like his grandfather if he tried.
Their physical resemblance was astonishing too.

Without further to do Harry had the keys brought over from the safe.

Owen signed the appropriate paperwork and left immediately.

He went straight to
Oak Place
.
The house had been closed for many years, the protection he’d left in place still held but the years had taken their toll, it needed refurbishing. Harry had mentioned this at the meeting; he had
paid a visit
to Oak Place personally as soon as Owen’s letter had arrived.
He had also arranged to have a team of builders and decorators come and work in the place the following week.
Owen trusted Harry too much to protest at the building plans and now
realiz
ed he had been right not to.

He had his luggage brought over from the hotel and settled down in his study, the only place untouched by time or dust.

He spent the first few hours
strengthening
the house
defens
es and feeling the country and its people.

There was one person he absolutely had to visit while in the
British Isles
this time.

Avoiding a visit with Aeoife, his mage mother, would be tactless.

Owen planned a little visit as soon as he had the time.
He would sort out his house out first and then arrange to visit her.

He knew Aeoife was
either in
England
or in
Ireland
. S
he didn’t like to travel much, less change residency.
He had to tell her about the interview with the Keeper, although he was sure she knew all about it by now, but it was common courtesy to let her know he was on the case.
He also thought it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to ask her if she knew anything about the
Thirteenth
or shawls. Although she wouldn’t tell him anything even if she did know about them.
It was her job to teach him the Way, not to sort out the test for him.

As soon as he
figured
out the Shawl matter he would definitely look her up.
He had decided to pursue investigating shawls rather than the number thirteen due to the amount of data attached to the latter. It would take years to sieve through it all. It would be nice to have something which linked the two, but so far nothing had come up.

London was getting colder and darker as autumn took hold of the city.
He had only been
in the city
for a couple of weeks so far but time seemed to drag forever among the rushing crowds of suited up men and women, mobiles always at hand, briefcase on the other.
There were a lot of tourists as well, this was new, he remembered when tourism was something the English did elsewhere, not something others did in
England
.

“The library is now closing sir,” said a mortal wom
an over his shoulder, “oh, that’s
beautiful, may I?”
She added, looking at the shawl.

He thought of turning her into ash, then thought of seducing her.
She looked at the shawl with overwhelming tenderness, which then made him think her input on the matter might prove very useful.
He nodded for her to go ahead.