seven
The crew that met at Leo’s tavern was quieter than normal, giving each other nods and small waves as they slid into seats at “their table”. Everyone except Siobhan and Dan were there. Siobhan had left a message with the doormen indicating she’d be there shortly and a runner had come from Dan’s Club with a similar message.
“Any news?” Ivan pressed against the tabletop, flexing his elbows and bunching the muscles of his arms.
Ben shook his head. “Doesn’t make much sense to start until Dan and Siobhan get here. Beer?”
Prairie slid a planchette out of her pocket and pressed it between her fists. She then drew her fists apart very slightly, releasing the planchette to fall towards the table, then punched them together and caught the piece of ivory. Punch. Punch. Punch. Catch. Catch. Catch. She kept her gaze intent on the movement, seemingly lost in her thoughts.
Kim leaned back in her chair and watched the movement. Absentmindedly she said, “Maybe tea instead. It feels like a tea kind of day.”
Ivan’s color shifted subtly, his tea-with-cream complexion edging towards gray. “A tea kind of day feels very different.”
In his words were the ghost of memory, one he didn’t share. They all had their secrets and their histories, things they shared and others they did not unless they shared them between themselves. Siobhan had displayed a similar odd response to reference to tea in the past. It was part of the shared history they had from before they came to Ourton. There was no doubt they’d share the information if it every became pertinent, or a threat; until then no one considered probing. They all had things they preferred kept in the shadows of their own minds.
Gwen got up, walked over to the bar and leaned over to talk to the woman pulling cider. The woman, Patti, nodded and ducked into the kitchen then handed Gwen a tray which she carried back to the table. She offered the yellow-frosted cupcakes on it to everyone. They had something chunky and brown dusting their tops.
Ivan took one. “What’s the flavor this time?”
“Fat Pelvis.” Gwen quirked a grin. “I mean Fat Elvis.”
Ivan’s lifted brows invited her to expand. “Banana cupcake, peanut butter mousse, peanut butter buttercream, and candied bacon on top.”
“We made them at Prairie’s last night,” Kim offered and swiped one off the tray.
“You had two last night!” At Gwen’s declaration Kim quickly jammed half the cake in her mouth and bit down.
“And one now,” crumbs flew with the words.
Ben laughed and grabbed two. At Gwen’s look he said, “What? She had two last night.”
Gwen rolled her eyes and then plopped into her seat. “You are both The Worst.”
“Completely. The Worst.” As the planchette made another drop for the table Kim snapped her hand out and grabbed it before Prairie could smash it between her fists.
Sliding the planchette back across the table she slanted a glance at the tray. Gwen nudged it towards her. She shook her head no. Gwen nudged it again. Kim glared at her.
“Would you take another cupcake?”
“No.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Do you want it?”
Kim bit her lip. “No.” The lie was obvious and maybe someone who was less a friend would let it lie. Gwen didn’t.
“No one cares except you.”
Kim sniffed. She focused intently on the finger she was tracing on the table. “Needing to eat prime is weird. I’m trying to not be weird.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “You are weird. I’m weird. Welcome to being human.”
Here’s the thing. In movies and books when the storyteller wants to show the protagonist’s empty life they’ll have them go to the fridge and reflect on its emptiness. The character will sigh. What are they supposed to make with a squirt bottle of ketchup and a jar of gherkins? And that a half empty squirt bottle! Because, wow, even the few things filling up their empty life are kind of sad and disappearing. Another sigh. They open the jar of pickles and fish one out with a finger then the scene cuts so you never see them take a bite or they viciously clip that gherkin between their teeth and aggressively chew to show just how hungry they are.
Unspoken truth, here: fat people don’t have issues with food. They have willpower. They have a dedication to gaining a healthy weight. There is no way they are self-abusing or that controlling their food input is a sign of a problem. Nope. Fat people are praised when they starve themselves.
This message is embedded in the psyche of every person, Magicker or Null. Sure Magickers have a different relationship with “hunger”, an intrinsic awareness of the dangers of starvation, it just doesn’t shut down the voice of that inner mean girl that points and sneers “ugly”.
This toxic dialogue was internalized, idealizing the empty refrigerator that writers loved as a symbol of deprivation and need. And it made a constant war inside a fat Magicker – do I eat because I *must* or do I embrace the ideal of emptiness and the risk of consumption?
That’s what ran through Kim’s head every time she approached food. Not a loud, obvious voice; just a script that said, “don’t” which she tried to compensate with obsessive behaviors like counting food or only eating around her plate clockwise.
But fat people don’t have eating problems.
“I want a beer.” Ben declared and pushed away from the table to head towards the bar.
Ivan shrugged. “If my food touches on my plate I won’t eat it. Had grape jelly get on some grapefruit as a kid and I almost puked. Worse than orange juice and toothpaste.”
“If someone touches my food I can’t eat it,” Prairie offered quietly.
“What about the people who make the food?” Ivan frowned. “They touch it.”
“Until its on my plate it isn’t mine. So that’s okay.”
“You are adorable.”
Prairie wrinkled her nose. “I hate that word. I’m,” she lofted her chin, “weird.”
Ivan bopped her on the adorable nose. “Totally weird.”
“Orange food.” Gwen stepped in. “Bad luck. Ate double cherry fruit cocktail with whipped topping when I was sick as a kid, puked it all over the floor, and it was orange when it came out. Can’t deal any food that color to this day. Every single time I eat a carrot the curl falls out of my hair or I trip over my shoelaces.”
“Causation does not imply correlation,” Kim stated dryly.
“Tell that to my flat hair. No carrots!” The glint in her eyes belied the obstinate look she adopted as she crossed her arms.
Prairie’s gaze ping-ponged between the two friends.
“Plus,” Gwen said on a shrug. “We’d all eat each other if we got Magick Hungry enough.”
Kim smacked her on the arm to which she added, “What is it not true?” A big, clearly fake smile. “I’ll eat you last.”
Ignoring Kim’s rolled eyes she continued, “I’d eat Ivan first. He’s big and probably full of energy.”
“You’ve thought about this?”
“Hasn’t everyone?”
“I have.” Ivan said. When they all jerked their gazes to him he smiled a big, ya gotta love me smile, and added, “I would eat all of you last. Because I love you.”
He formed a heart with his fingers over the left side of his chest. “Big love.”
Ivan poked the cupcake tray an inch closer to Prairie, switching his gaze pointedly between it and her as he mouthed “you look pale”. Prairie reached in, snake fast, and grabbed up a cupcake then placed it very gently down in front of herself on the table before folding her hands around it.
“How do you get a Fat Pelvis?” Kim asked Gwen.
“Whoa!” Siobhan declared as she slid into her seat. “That is…” she blinked and then spread her hands like she had no words. “Why do you encourage her?”
“Do I?” The rise in Kim’s voice matched that of her brows.
“Uh huh,” Prairie replied.
“I do.” Kim’s laugh drew Prairie’s. Her shrug said “what ya gonna do?”
Ben slid two pitchers across the table; one full of foamy brown, the other flat. “Beer,” he pointed his little finger at the foamy, then to the flat, “Tea.”
Grabbing the flat Kim poured a glass and slid it in front of Prairie, then one for herself. As she lifted it to drink Gwen asked, “None for me?”
Kim paused in her sip and lifted her brows. “Not until you tell me how you get a Fat Pelvis.”
Siobhan grabbed the pitcher and poured Gwen a drink. “I will give you this if you don’t tell us how that works.”
“Deal.” Gwen snatched the glass, smiling as she lifted it to drink deeply.
Ben leaned his chair on its back legs, propped his legs on the edge of the table, and crossed his ankles. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he asked, “Anyone else reflected on the abysmal statistics of losing four of seven of our group last night?”
“Technically, we weren’t lost?” Kim suggested.
Ben pursed his lips and gave her a look. Before she could respond Dan slid into the last chair and grabbed the pitcher of beer.
“Did I miss anything?” There was a tightness around his eyes that belied his relaxed tone.
“Just Gwen refusing to tell me how you get a Fat Pelvis.” Kim quipped.
Dan raised his brows. “You are too young to know that.”
“How old is old enough?” Prairie leaned forward, lacing her fingers around her glass of tea.
“Older than you are.” Dan’s answered with dry certainty. He turned to Siobhan. “What did I actually miss.”
“Nothing. Ben brought up our losing most of the group in that mess yesterday. It wasn’t anything we weren’t all thinking.” Siobhan laced her fingers and rested her joined hands on the table. “We got lucky that it wasn’t real. We had no way of knowing that was the case when we made the decisions that lead to that and we need to make sure we don’t get into a situation where we end up making them again. So, assessment please.”
Gwen started. “Kim makes stupid decisions and walks into things blind.”
Kim made a noise like she was going to protest then shrugged. “Not wrong. Also not something we just learned yesterday.”
Siobhan nodded in agreement of the sarcastic statement. “You’ve had time to think. What could we have done differently?”
Kim went quiet as she considered. “I honestly don’t think we could have planned for what happened. I also think some risk is worth the cost. Had we been facing a standard enemy, one that didn’t knock us out with one hit, having someone in the vanguard who is willing to step into an uncertain situation, with the confidence that the rest of the team has their six isn’t a bad tactic. Prairie and Gwen were behind me. Gwen could have healed me from anything except the hit I took.”
Ivan leaned in. “We split the party but there are going to be situations where we do so. We instinctively did so with a healer on each team as well as a melee fighter and a range fighter and Dan as an additional range fighter being the balance between the two.”
Siobhan nodded. “Valid.”
“We lost more than two-thirds of the group and that’s some bad numbers but sometimes hard decisions need to be made. Some losses, if the gains are important, are acceptable.”
Ben had barely finished his statement before Prairie was leaping to her feet and bracing her hands on the table. “Losses are *not* acceptable! I’m not losing *one* of you!”
Her word hung in the air heavy with an awareness only someone with Prairie’s connection to death could invest. Before anyone could respond a guy in a bike messenger outfit came up and slipped Dan a note. He excused himself from the table and unfolded it, read what was written there, then came back.
“First,” he turned to Prairie, “Ben shouldn’t have upset you by being dismissive of loss.” Ben made a noise but quickly went quiet when Dan gave a subtle head jerk in Prairie’s direction. “Now, I may have a lead on one of the cases I’ve been working on, a missing young woman. If anyone would like to back me up?”
“Is it something that can’t wait?” Siobhan asked.
Dan shrugged. “Tracks can disappear. I’ve been looking for ones with a very specific pattern, male wearing boots with the right foot bigger than the left and slightly turned in. These tracks were found around the homes of three different women who have disappeared. All the women were working girls who were moving away from the job. Starting new lives. Each of them had just gotten their own residences, free of their pimps.” His jaw clenched. “I don’t believe they all just decided to leave town after doing that.”
“The case worker of the young woman I’m looking for asked for my help. They were concerned because she’d been looking for a loan because the expenses of her move were more than she’d counted on. The case worker didn’t have any money to spare and they are afraid the young woman may have gone to a former client for assistance. Or,” he shrugged, “you know. Maybe one last job to cover costs.”
Ivan’s tone was soft. “How young is she?”
Dan’s mouth tightened. “Too young.”
“I’m in,” Ivan stood up and grabbed his sword.
“How about,” Siobhan suggested, gathering up her bag, “we all go. We’ll do our meeting on the fly.”
Dan nodded his thanks as his friends rose and gathered their things then followed him out of the pub.
“So,” Ben started the ball rolling. “Apparently hoodies and masks are fairly popular with the kind of people who I have the hook up with. Who knew.”
Prairie’s giggled softly at this dry revelation.
“My head is nothing but static still. I’ve asked a few of the spirits who came to me last night about the cords attached to Arfa. They seemed confused by this. But then,” she shrugged and wrinkled her nose, “I’m not sure I actually ever asked them about their cords. Its possible they aren’t aware of them and may not be a good resource to get information on that. What I did get was that I seem to have a rider. Or…” her tone faded, “not really a rider. Not in the organized faith sense of rider and horse where I am being controlled by an entity which has taken over my body completely.”
“That’s a thing?” Ben asked
Prairie’s jerked a sharp nod in answer before continuing her explanation with her head down and her voice disappearing into the edge of her hoodie. “I have a fragment of Spiritis other than my own, weaving into my own,” she spiraled her finger in compliment. “It doesn’t seem to be leaching me. At least the spirits I communicated with last night don’t think it is and I’m not feeling weaker or making decisions that I wouldn’t make so I don’t think it’s a big issue.”
Gwen peered sharply at Prairie. “Can I look?”
“I don’t know?” Prairie responded. “Can you? I mean,” her words tumbled over each other, “I don’t think that your Magick can see Spiritis. Maybe you could tell if there’s something weird with my energy, like if its being siphoned off or has changed. I guess?”
It was both a question and an agreement. Gwen took the second half at face value and took Prairie’s hand.
“I didn’t think you needed contact for this?” Prairie asked.
“Maybe I just like holding your hand,” Gwen replied.
Prairie looked down and to the side, “Oh. Okay.”
Dan stepped into the conversation, covering the silence.
“I checked with a couple people I know who do what I do. While they are very excited by the prospect of a new form of our Magick they had nothing to add of substance. Apparently we’re talking uncharted waters here. Which, you know, is like chum to Bibliomancers. Almost started a feeding frenzy when I mentioned what happened. I think that about eight people rushed off to consult their libraries and four others mentioned remembering older friends and family members who might have told them a story once about something that might be like this. Not Story,” he added, emphasizing the word, “but stories. So, yeah, that’s where I am. With a whole bunch of eggheads going crazy at the prospect of new Magick and grabbing the excuse to bury themselves in books for the foreseeable future.”
“I’ve directed the head of the guard to send out a general alert regarding people wearing hoodies and masks but their response to that wasn’t promising. Apparently hoodies are a common thing to wear and they don’t want to target people based on that.” Ivan offered. “Which I understand.” He shrugged. “Otherwise, there have been no reports of individuals wearing hoodies and mask doing anything illegal or suspicious enough to be reported to the guard.”
Dan directed the group across Gryphon Park and stopped near a copse of trees. “This is where the tracks were seen. Over by this stream.”
Cautious to not mess up the scene, the crew stood back and let Dan look for tracks. He stooped several times and gently moved some debris with a pen, nodding as he did so. Then he moved another few inches and peered intently at the ground again. He continued to do this until he had carefully cordoned off a 6 foot by 6 foot area that ended at the stream. Then he stood up and peered down the stream, his hands pressed to his lower back as he rocked on his heels.
“Hey, Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“Come over here. Need your eyes. Do you see anything in the water downstream?”
“What am I looking for?”
“A body.” There was resignation in his tone. “This looks like a possible body dump. The water is moving pretty fast because its Spring and we are dealing with runoff but its worth a try.”
Ivan moved up to the stream with Ben. “Two sets of eyes better than one?”
“Sure. Stay back a way from the stream is you can. If there are any tracks to find, like maybe the person I’m looking for decided to travel down to witness their work, I don’t want them messed up.”
“People do that?” Ivan asked.
“Yes,” Prairie, Dan, and Ben said almost in unison then gave each other knowing looks.
Resolve flattening the line of his mouth, Ivan started down the stream, careful to stay back from the wet edge where footprints might make an imprint. Ben took a flying leap and landed on a large rock in the stream, then proceeded to leapfrog across on other rocks. When he reached the other side he gathered himself and jumped to the grass there.
After traveling around a bend and out of sight, they returned a few minutes later and shook their heads. Ben made his way back across the stream and stood next to Dan.
“Nothing.”
“Prairie?” Dan turned to her. “Can you?”
“Yeah.” She gave a determined nod. “Let me just focus a moment.”
Prairie pushed up her sleeves and then fingered several small bones she wore on leather ties around her neck. Kim had once asked Prairie where the bones came from. The response had been “reckoning.” To which Kim left off asking.
Prairie’s gaze went far away and her hair moved on a non-existent breeze, various tendrils moving in different directions that defied nature. Mouth moving on silent words, she pivoted and faced the stream, then down it, then back into the copse of trees. Her eyes searched but they clearly did not see, at least not anything that existed in standard space, and she traced her hand along currents like conducting a song. Bending her head in thanks, she lowered the bones to her chest before focusing on the group.
“Spirit here is really…” She raised her hands, fingers spread, and traced the air. “Its jagged. A lot of activity. A lot of new layers.”
“Layers?” Siobhan probed.
“How I see Spiritis, which is not to say how everyone does… maybe…” Her gaze went hazy then she shook her head and refocused, “is as this dense…” waving her fingers near her throat as if stirring an invisible current, “it’s so hard to describe, really. Think of like the world overlaid by a sheet of saran wrap. And then another one and another one. You can kind of see through it but its blurry? And each layer is the remnants or essence of someone or something that has passed.”
“Some places there’s only a few. I’ve never seen a place with only one, but some places there’s only a few and you can still sort of see things through the haze. It’s not even really seeing.” She pointed at her temple. “It’s like… feeling. Like everything that makes a person a person is a color in the sense that color is vibration on the visual plane.”
She nodded. “That’s actually a pretty good way to describe it because, you know, seeing color is both physical and psychological. Like you process it on both levels.” Her smile was sheepish. “I’m getting really esoteric.”
“I actually think I get it,” Gwen said. “Figure part of my Magick, a lot of my Magick, is about the variance of energy that causes emotions and thoughts. Definitely physical and psychological. Go on?”
Prairie’s look said ‘Really? You are interested in my stuff? Whaaattt?’
“This is really cool.” Kim added. “Like I need a whiteboard and some colored markers and maybe some magnets too but…” Her hands groped the air as she groped for words. “Cool. No one ever tries to really explain how their Magick works to anyone that doesn’t do the stuff they do. It’s all vague looks and ‘you wouldn’t understand, you have no frame of reference.” She threw her hands in the air, “How am I supposed to have a frame of reference if no one will explain?!”
“Getting back on track,” Gwen stepped in. “Vibrations.”
Prairie gave a tentative smile. “So I’ve always thought it was layers but after doing the mind meld thing with Arfa I’m questioning if its more harmonics, but that’s getting more esoteric. In this situation what’s relevant is that when there are a few Spirits there is less density to the Spirits. More Spirits, more dense. This place is dense enough I’m having trouble breathing. It’s like a heavy blanket, one of those weight ones, and its holding me down from all sides.” A sheepish shrug, “Translation. This place has seem some shit. Some really murky and sad and screams-in-the-darkness shit.”
“Anything we can use?” Dan asked.
“I think,” Prairie turned upstream. “This way. Kind of the dark stuff is all clumped here, like low-hanging fog if fog was made of crows and screams,” a shudder traveled through her hunched shoulders, “and then it reaches back and thins out in that direction.”
Dan nodded. “Good a direction as any.” He turned upstream, then stopped and turned back. “I’ll walk along the water, if the rest of you can maybe walk about six feet distant and a few steps slower than me. If I see tracks I’ll let you know.”
Enter The Woods 