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A Breakdown in Comprehension?
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Usually, I'm the one who is flustered by the prospect of a beautiful woman turning up on the doorstep. To have Bob being the flustered one for a change is just downright *wrong* somehow. Admittedly, he was flustered for a completely different reason than I usually am, but even so, it's unnerving. I can't help thinking that being dead in this situation might be something of an advantage, portable home not withstanding. Fortunately - or not, depending on your viewpoint - I'm very much alive.
I wasn't sure what I was going to find when I returned to the main room, but it sure as hell wasn't the sight that met my eyes. My cat, Mister, is pretty much what you would expect from a cat; I don't own him, he honours me with the pleasure of his company and throws me crumbs of affection when he can be bothered. In return he's fed and warm and relatively safe. I say relatively as nothing in a wizard's home, living or otherwise, is ever completely safe. Mister is a very sensible cat; he steers clear of the lab unless he's invited in there by me and if anyone starts waving things around like sticks, sharp metal objects or their hands, he makes himself scarce. He also doesn't make friends easily if he thinks I am wary of someone. All of which explains why I was standing there in my own home, gaping like a stranded fish at the prospect of Mister doing a very good impression of a book rest, and judging from the noise out of him being more than happy to do so. It comes to something when your *cat* has the power to astound you. The book, which looked like one of the older and more obscure treatises I'd managed to pick up, and Mister were on top of the table that actually has chairs around it. It was leaning against his body in such a way that it caught the best of the light without having to be excessively handled. I wasn't sure what kind of effect cat hair would have on the cover, but I know how fragile the pages of some of the books are so the gesture kind of reassured me. Pierson was sat in one of the chairs with his head in the book. I didn't know if he'd noticed me.
"The translations are off." He said. Obviously he had noticed me, but the statement didn't make a lot of sense. I wandered over to see exactly which book it was that he had dug out of my collection. It was one I didn't really bother with as it made virtually no sense to either me or Bob.
"I... what?"
"In this book. The English translation of the Latin is fairly accurate but as the Latin doesn't make sense in the first place that isn't really much help. Now if you turn to the end..." He reached out a cotton clad finger to carefully turn the pages. I wondered about that until I remembered I kept some gloves near the older books for this very reason; to protect them from the dangers of human skin and its attendant acids. "You'll notice that there's a whole section of hieroglyphs." I had, but Bob for some reason had never learned hieroglyphs and I have enough problems with Latin. A quick smile lit my guest's face as he turned to look at me. "I can do you an accurate translation if you'd like, instead of that... nonsense... whoever put this together wrote down." Now that was something I hadn't expected; a complete stranger, and an immortal one who just *happened* to know Bob before he was dead at that, offering to translate a bunch of hieroglyphs for me. Life is just plain weird sometimes, even for a wizard. I think I must have been staring as Pierson's smile grew wider. "I'm Doctor Adam Pierson, a professor of ancient languages. It's not often nowadays that I manage to get my hands on something a bunch of other academics haven't already been drooling over for years. If it bothers you, think of it as payment for me landing unexpectedly on your doorstep." I closed my mouth with a snap and stared some more, before taking a deep breath and actually saying something.
"Professor of ancient languages? I'd say you had something of an unfair advantage."
"Nothing unfair about it in the slightest. It's a dog eat dog world in Academia as much as it is anywhere else, you know." The smile had turned into a full on shit-eating grin, one that made it very hard to remember that this guy was probably ancient when Bob had been a kid. And I bet he led those other academics round by the nose for the fun of it, misdirecting them just because he could.
"I didn't know; but it makes a perverse kind of sense. Still, that doesn't explain how you managed to subvert my cat, Dr Pierson."
"I asked him politely, of course. It's amazing what a cat will do for you when you speak to it in classical Egyptian. And quite rightly, too." He directed the last few words at Mister and scratched him behind the ears. My traitorous cat purred even louder if that was possible. I admitted defeat and wandered over to my ancient fridge.
"Beer?" I asked. There are certain things that don't need to be dressed up in fancy language. Asking a guy if he wants a beer is one of them. I've been told it's the same for women and chocolate, but I've never been brave enough to ask if that's true. At the moment Murphy classes me as a friend; I'd like to keep it that way.
"Please." He answered. The door of the fridge squealed alarmingly as I opened it, but at least the damn thing was still working. I reached in to grab 2 bottles of McAnally's best; I've never admitted to him that I cool his beer as I think he'd be upset and there's no way I can contemplate living without McAnally's own brand of magic in my life. Pierson waved away my unspoken question about a glass, and I popped open the bottles before putting them down on the table. He eyed the beer, and then looked at the book with a sigh. I guess he was thinking that beer and old books wouldn't mix as he closed the book, moving it carefully to one side before removing the cotton glove. A few unintelligible words to my cat later and Mister stood up, stretched, and leapt off the table. That left nothing but the beer between us. We reached out for the bottles simultaneously, but I waited for Pierson's reaction to his first taste of a McAnally brew before drinking any of my own. I wasn't disappointed; at the first mouthful he looked startled, with the second he was thoughtful, and the third produced such an expression of rapt pleasure that I was surprised into saying one of the things I was actually thinking. I was lucky it was the least incriminating.
"You sure like your beer, Dr Pierson."
"This isn't beer; this is liquid heaven. And call me Adam." Seems like the beer had built a bridge; I took another step along it, as well as a generous mouthful of my own beer.
"Only if you call me Harry," I replied. We shared a smile and raised our bottles to each other; the power that beer has is pretty damn amazing, and McAnally's is even more so.
By the time we'd finished our second bottle each, I was in a much mellower frame of mind. We'd relocated to the sofa, and Mister had consented to sit between us. All in all I was feeling brave - or possibly reckless - enough to ask one of the questions that had been burning in my brain even though I was as terrified of what the answer would be as I was fascinated.
"Just how old *are* you, Adam?" The look he gave me was a strange one, almost sad.
"A lot older than Bob. I don't think you really want to know how much older," he said. I shrugged.
"Maybe not, but I can't help being curious."
"You're a wizard. Cats and wizards are born curious." He reached out to give Mister a scratch, and Mister playfully batted at his outstretched fingers as if to emphasise the point. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you should have all the answers. Where would the fun be in that?" I sighed. I'd had all the answer I was going to get, and if I was honest it was at about the limit of my comfort level. Even so, there was so much I wanted to know about this guy; who he was, what he had seen, how he had managed to survive for so long, and if he had any pointers on just how I could manage to talk to women without sounding like I was seven kinds of stupid. Still, if I was lucky I'd have time; if we don't get blown up or eaten alive wizards can have a pretty long lifespan. I drank a silent toast to that hope.
"If I ever settle down to the quiet life, I'll ask you again in about a hundred years." I said in as offhand a manner as I could manage; if I'd wanted to surprise him with the longevity revelation I would have failed dismally. He sprawled further back into my sofa as if he owned it, with a quirk of a smile briefly lighting his face.
"If we're both still around for the question to be asked, I'll even consider giving you a straight answer." I was about to make a suitably profound rejoinder when the external wards were tripped, and I turned to him to explain.
"Company." What I hadn't expected was for him to say exactly the same thing at the same time. I glared at him as he tried not to laugh.
"What is it with you? Do you have immortal radar or something?"
"Or something, definitely," he replied. I shook my head as I scrambled off the sofa and went to meet my second unexpected, and in Bob's case unwanted, guest of the day.
Amanda was, as Bob had so pointedly told me, devastatingly gorgeous; dark glossy hair in an elfin crop, smouldering brown eyes and the body of a dancer, but with curves to die for. I'm sure if he hadn't been hiding he would have told me to get my tongue back in my head. In my defence I have to say that I wasn't drooling.
"Hi, I'm Amanda. Me... my friend Adam said he would meet me here?"
"Uh. Yeah," I said intelligently. Not *quite* drooling. Really.
"Inside?" At that point I realised I was completely blocking the door and she couldn't get past me.
"Oh." I tore my eyes away from her and stepped back to let her in. She hefted a rather heavy looking sports bag that clanked ominously and shimmied past me with a wink and a smile. I melted a little inside, even though I knew she was probably older than Ancient Mai and just as dangerous to boot. She strode into the place as if she owned it, dumping the bag on the mostly-clear table with a thunk. Adam grinned up at her from his position on the sofa. I hovered by the door, feeling decidedly uncomfortable even if it was my home; I could almost *taste* the history between those two.
"Well, you certainly landed on your feet this time, didn't you old man?"
"Sometimes you just get lucky."
"Lucky?"
"Yeah, lucky." I watched silently as Adam levered himself off the sofa, being careful not to disturb Mister in the process. "Did you bring everything?"
"Of course I brought everything. What do you take me for, a thief?" How she managed to look both affronted and playful at the same time I don't know. I was just glad that particular look wasn't turned on me. Adam apparently was immune to Amanda's charms,
"That's exactly what I take you for," he commented.
"Me..." I have no idea what she was going to say as she was stopped in her tracks by as stony a glare from Adam as I've ever seen from anyone in my life. She glared back and then pouted at him. "It's all there. You can check if you want."
"Don't worry, I will." I noticed she was looking around herself as he made his way to the table and his returned property. I was torn between wanting to know what an immortal considered essential to carry around with him, and keeping an eye on the probably light-fingered Amanda. I settled for staying where I was and remaining silent, it seemed the most sensible option. I have good eyes after all.
"I thought you said this was Holy Ground," she said as her eyes wandered around with seemingly innocent interest.
"It is." Adam nodded in my direction, and Amanda's eyes followed. I was standing by my still open door with its legend of 'Harry Dresden, Wizard' in plain sight. I closed the door, but too late. I was back in the picture.
"A wizard? Really? I haven't met a real, live wizard in ooh centuries..." She wandered over to me and rested a delicate-seeming hand on my chest. I swallowed. She smelled of rain and growing things, of life, and I could feel my heart pounding under her hand. "So," the hand moved slightly. I twitched in response. "What does a modern day wizard do when he's not wizarding?" I was saved from trying to form a coherent reply by an unlikely source; Adam. The guy who obviously knew Amanda and her little tricks *very* well.
"He's a private investigator, works closely with the Chicago PD." Amanda moved her hand as if she'd been burned. "Not that you'd be interested in that, of course."
"No, not at all." She moved away from me and took a seat, keeping both Adam and I in full view. I breathed a sigh of relief and gave silent thanks to whatever entity wanted to take responsibility for Adam Pierson; Amanda was just a little bit too much for this mere mortal to cope with and I was very glad he was there. I moved a safe distance from both of them, and watched as Adam drew a surprising number of items from the bag. The passport, ID card, wallet and cell phone were mundane and unsurprising; the handgun and knives less so, but still not that unusual for someone to be carrying around in Chicago; the sword definitely wasn't. I was back to staring.
"That's a sword." I commented helpfully.
"Yes. And I'm very glad to see it." Adam ran his hands over the hilt and blade in a way that was more a caress than an impersonal check to see if an object had suffered damage, which was decidedly odd but still didn't answer the fundamental question.
"What are you doing with a sword?"
"Need it for self defence," he replied without missing a beat. I took a breath and looked at the beautiful, deadly object in front of me, half expecting it to transform into something else before my eyes. It didn't, but having a naked sword on my table still didn't figure too highly in my idea of what reality should entail.
"But it's a *sword*."
"Yes, I think we've already established that fact." Adam sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Why the hell does a professor of ancient languages need a sword for self defence?" I demanded; I was really starting to lose my patience, and when you're a wizard that isn't always a good idea. Any answer Adam might have given was interrupted by a voice from behind me.
"I've got one too if that helps..." I whirled around to glare at Amanda, still sitting in her chair with a far too innocent expression on her face.
"No it doesn't help," I grumbled. "What is this? Some sort of weird immortal ritual thing?" I don't get truly angry very often, a wizard can't afford to, but I was irritated to say the least.
"Not quite." The absolute lack of expression in Adam's voice had probably taken years of practice, but I wasn't exactly in a state of mind to appreciate it.
"Then exactly what *is* it?" I pleaded. The two immortals looked at each other, and Amanda rose from her chair and backed away.
"I think you should explain, Adam." She said. "I'll just stay right over here." I strode over toward her and propelled her back to her chair, applying enough pressure on her shoulders to ensure she sat back down again.
"No you won't, lady. I want you right where I can see your pretty hands." I threw a glare in to emphasise the point, and then stepped away from her until I could see them both without making an effort. Adam Pierson had the bloody gall to be laughing.
"I think he's onto you, Amanda," he wheezed.
"Will you be *quiet* for once in your life?" She snapped back at him. At that point I realised I'd had enough and it was about time I let them know that. I have a pretty good set of lungs when I decide to exercise them so I treated them to a demonstration.
"Both of you. Shut up. Now!" I yelled. Surprisingly, they did; although that might have had something to do with the fact that my remaining light bulbs had blown, the phone had exploded and the protective runes adorning the ceiling and walls were burning with a sullen orange light. I was very glad I hadn't been standing anywhere near the fridge. "Thank You," I said matter-of-factly into the welcome silence. Amanda was staring open-mouthed at the wreck of my phone, and Adam looked like he was trying his best not to smile at her discomfort, especially when she turned that incredulous gaze to me.
"He *is* a wizard," he said; far more gently than I would have expected him to. Amanda closed her mouth, took a deep breath and screwed her eyes shut for a second or two. When she opened them again, she gave a wry smile.
"So I see. I..." She was prevented from finishing her sentence by the appearance of Bob stomping silently through the wall.
"What is the meaning of this furore? I was *trying* to meditate." He glared at us all, hands on hips, taking in the wreckage of the phone and the baleful glow of the runes at a glance. He then winked at me, unseen by the other two, and turned a rather unpleasant smile onto Adam before announcing in as funereal a voice as I'd heard out of him; "Do not mess in the affairs of wizards as when they're angry they're liable to fritz your mobile." They both missed his grin as they scrambled frantically for their phones and he was still smiling as he faded back through the wall. I shook my head, hiding my own smile. Even when he was supposed to be hiding Bob couldn't help but be theatrical; it's part of his charm I guess. The light from the runes was fading, and I still had a fair bit of pent up energy that needed releasing so I gestured the nearest group of candles into light. Amanda was staring at the wall.
"Resident ghost," I explained.
"I gathered that, thanks." Her answer seemed vague, as if she was turning something over in her mind, then she frowned and whirled round to face me. "Please tell me that wasn't Hrothbert of Bainbridge," she demanded. I couldn't help but stare at her; did *every* immortal on the bloody planet know Bob from his life in the tenth century? It sure seemed that way. Mind you, I had only met two so far and I was getting the feeling that there were an awful lot more of them than that. I didn't answer Amanda, but Adam did.
"Well he goes by 'Bob' now, but yes that's him."
"My God..." she whispered; Adam shrugged.
"From what I can gather, God actually had very little to do with it. Still, he seems like a reformed character now." From Amanda's glare it was apparent that she didn't really believe him. "Amanda, it happens. I should know, remember."
"Yes... well... that's different."
"Is it?" He met her eyes with such an intense gaze that I could almost hear the tension crackle between them; there was so much history and meaning in that glance, and I understood none of it. Part of me was reluctant to break that moment, but there were still things I wanted and needed to know. I cleared my throat half apologetically.
"The swords?" I asked pointedly, trying to bring them back to what I thought was the subject under discussion.
"Ah yes, the swords..." Adam flicked a glance at Amanda before taking a seat of his own. I remained standing, half leaning against a bookcase. "Strictly speaking, we aren't true immortals; we can be killed." He lifted his sword from the table, turning the blade this way and that so it flashed in the flickering candlelight. "That's what the swords are for; to take an immortal's life, you have to take their head." Of all the things I had been expecting to hear, the fact that immortals were running around and decapitating one another wasn't one of them. I turned my eyes to Amanda, who was quietly worrying her lip; she nodded, confirming what Adam had said as the truth. And there was another thing, I was fairly certain that Adam Pierson was only the latest in a long line of names for that man, but I sure as hell wasn't going to ask about that. Asking about the other thing? Well I just had to; I'd basically just been told I had 2 murderers sitting in my home and that did not sit very well with me, not one bit.
"Is there a particular reason *why* you chop off each other's heads or is it just for fun? Because if it is just for fun, you are no longer welcome in this house, and never will be." I let out a trickle of power, and the runes kindled once more catching the eyes of both the immortals just as I'd planned, reminding them that I had resources far beyond those of a normal person. Adam's glance slid from the runes to me, no trace of amusement left on his face. Those eyes met mine for an instant, not enough to trigger a soul gaze, but more than enough to leave me with an impression of great age, of a long but not necessarily well-lived life. We both looked away before anything else was inadvertently shared. He stared at the sword on his knee as he answered.
"It's not about fun, it's about *survival*. I wasn't kidding when I said the sword was for self defence. Every immortal has a type of energy within them, we call it the Quickening. When one immortal takes the head of another, they absorb the energy of the one who has died so with each head that is taken their Quickening gets stronger. Some immortals live to take that power and will hunt down other immortals to do so, but most of us merely want to be *alive* and to enjoy that life. There's no crime in that is there?"
"In wanting to live? It depends. So when someone comes after your head what do you do?" A smile tugged at one edge of Adam's mouth as he indicated Amanda and himself with a sweep of his hand.
"We tend to run, but when there's no other option we'll fight." I detached myself from the bookcase and grabbed a chair of my own; I definitely needed to sit down. A few seconds ago I'd been prepared to blast the two of them out of my home without a second thought; now I almost felt sorry for them, but I still needed to know more.
"You'll take the other immortal's head?" I asked. Adam sighed, and nodded.
"If we have to." I thought about that for a moment and decided I wouldn't like to be part of a culture that meant you had to literally fight for your survival. Living under the Doom of Damocles had been bad enough, but at least I only had to worry about myself causing my untimely death and not about miscellaneous others wanting to separate my head from my body just because they wanted my power. I could relate to their 'run, not fight' way of thinking, after all it's what's kept me alive more than once. Mulling over all this talk of beheadings and death reminded me of something else; the call that was the beginning of this whole weird incident for me.
"So that headless corpse of Murphy's, that was your responsibility?" I asked Adam; it would be nice for me to know the reality of the case even if I couldn't tell Murphy about it. He nodded toward Amanda,
"It was Amanda's actually. I was dead at the time." I'd forgotten about his slight case of death and it was really strange to have him being so nonchalant about it. I mean, coming back from the dead can't be pleasant at all. I mentally reviewed what Murphy had told me.
"And the lightning?"
"That was the release of the Quickening after she'd taken the other's head."
"Oh." I already didn't trust lighting storms to be completely natural all the time and now I had another reason not to. Great. Who'd be a wizard? Still, this wizard was actually getting some answers for a change so I continued with the questions. "So how come you swiped all of his stuff, Amanda?" She sauntered over toward me and leant on my shoulder.
"When you've just decapitated someone you don't hang around to be pulled up by the authorities with a sword in your hand. I didn't have the time to wait for Adam to revive so I made sure he was going to stay dead for a few hours..." She mimed pointing a gun to her head.
"So that's why I woke up with a headache! Thanks Amanda." Adam didn't sound best pleased. I hid a smile.
"Anytime. Then I took everything that could possibly incriminate or identify him and made myself scarce."
"Until he rang you." I commented. The whole mess was actually making sense now, and I was the only one who knew the full story.
"Until he rang me." She agreed. "I knew it was only a matter of time. He would either ring me from inside the morgue to get me to break him out, or ask me for his things back once he'd gotten himself out."
"Sounds like you've had plenty of practice." She laughed and performed a quick pirouette for me, which had some very interesting... effects; I persuaded my eyes to get back in my head with some reluctance.
"Morgue Breakouts R Us." She said with a grin, a bow and a click of her heels. I dragged myself back to the reality of getting to the bottom of the story.
"But Adam had to end up in Butters' morgue." And it was Butters' stoicism in the face of all sorts of weirdness that had placed this firmly in my lap. Damn him. I continued, "Having the ME break you out of the morgue can't happen that often."
"Not *that* often no, but there was this time in Washington..." I raised a hand to interrupt Adam before he got into full flow. I should have guessed that an immortal gets to do everything more than once at least. My poor abused brain had had enough.
"I don't want to know. What I do want; no, actually what I *need* is another drink and I've run out of beer."
"Beer?" For someone who probably counted their age in centuries rather than years, Adam sure had an endearing and almost childlike air around him whenever beer was mentioned. I suppose everyone has to have a vice no matter how old they are; beer at least was reassuringly down to earth.
"Yeah, beer. I think I should introduce you to McAnally." Adam was already buried in his coat, the sword and other items secreted somewhere in its voluminous folds before I'd even scrambled out of my chair. The guy really *did* like his beer. We shared a smile and I stepped toward to Amanda and held out my hand.
"If the lady would care to join us?" I asked. She dimpled in reply.
"Oh why the hell not, it's not as if you can poison me after all." Laughing, the three of us left my house. I had the feeling that I'd taken the first step toward what just might become a very strange and possibly beautiful friendship.