SG: Innocent Bystander #12 A Few Explanations (1/3)

[Whitney Taylor]

Savannah, July 1994


Max looked up as the door to the laboratory opened and shut. A tired looking Stefan emerged, leaning against the closed door with a sigh of relief. But when he turned his eyes to Max, his grin was triumphant.


"Success! Or should I say, Eureka!"


"You've mastered the spell?" Max leapt up, abandoning their book as the victorious apprentice approached.


"I couldn't have done it without you, Max." Stefan opened his arms wide. After an awkward moment, Max realized that this was an invitation to what those in the outside world called a 'hug.' They blushed, delighted and a little mortified to have left the man hanging like that. But as they entered the circle of Stefan's arms, wrapping their arms around him in return, they realized they had made a mistake.


They couldn't make themself let go.


Stefan released his hold, presumably to indicate that hug time was over, pulling away. The distance thus created was just perfect for a meeting of lips, in which Max engaged unthinkingly.


They had never had a kiss, unless you counted the occasional cheek-peck from Laylah. In general they knew how it was done, but--fortunately, as they later decided--they lacked the courage to deploy any tongue.


The mere pressing of lips was a shocking enough sensation, though it was soon enough followed by the further shock of humiliation and shame as Stefan gently disentangled himself, hands on Max's shoulders.


"That's... not possible, Max." he said, not unkindly. There was embarrassment in his face, but some wonder too. "Sophie and I... We may not agree on everything, but I love her. I couldn't ask for a better mother to my girls. I'd never--I could never--"


"I'm sorry!" Max blurted, mortified. But Stefan was shaking his head.


"I thought I was picking up signals from you. Not all us guys are oblivious... but you were just so different from anyone else I ever knew. I thought, I couldn't be reading this right. Why would someone like you...?"


"Oh." Max said flatly, looking down at their androgynous robed body.


"No! I meant someone magical and mysterious and powerful like you--what would you find interesting about me?"


"You're the first person to treat me like a friend. And now I've ruined it..."


"We're still friends, Max. I wouldn't abandon you, especially with all the anti-mage rhetoric going around."


"Don't worry about us. We have plans."


Stefan still looked worried. "Well, okay... I hope you find someone for you wherever it is you're going."


Max looked down and muttered. "My master said I was a hideous unloveable alchemical abomination..."


"Pardon?" Stefan furrowed his brows.


"Nothing!" Max said brightly, turning their face away as they bustled to the door. "Have a nice life, Stefan."


*****


Jacksonville, present


Simone shivered as she pulled open the door to the renovated cafe. Did they have to turn the air conditioning up so much? She noted Amy Sunderland standing in the back, amongst other coworkers both familiar and new. Before going back to join them, she took in her surroundings.


The beige tiles were gone from the floor, as was the plaster from the walls, and what remained was concrete, painted light and dark gray respectively. The wooden tables (they had all been smashed, she supposed) were now a dark red plastic. To better hide bloodstains? The counter was a polished, silver gray metal that Simone hoped wouldn't stain easily. A low cabinet of the same material hosted numerous party games, and supported an aquarium several meters long, although it seemed to be empty right now. And though everything was new, the only smell in the air was the enticing smell of fresh coffee. This was not a new feature; the smell of the cafe had remained the same in the past despite the presence of machine oils, open flames and, once, Roseanne Barr.


"Are they going for an industrial vibe in here, or what?" she asked as she approached her colleagues.


"Simone!" exclaimed a woman she could have sworn she had never seen in her life. "I think they're trying to make it look more like a warehouse. You know, so the clients will feel more at home. The aquarium's a weird touch, though."


Simone tried to examine her without revealing her ignorance; she prided herself on remembering names and faces. The woman had an eyepatch, for heaven's sake! How could she forget something like that? Fortunately she was wearing a nametag, which read. "Right... Billie."


Billie gave a start, then a giggle, and then flipped the eyepatch up. "It's me!"


"Mina!"


Amy, who had been scrolling her phone, nearly dropped it, and turned to stare at them.


"Sorry to surprise you, but I had to see if it worked," Mina continued. "Some of the old customers... well, maybe it's better if they didn't recognize me."


Simone was looking the other barista up and down. Her hair had been cut to chin length, a butchy look which suited her. She was still a little shaky on her stiletto heels, but her posture in the form fitting black jumpsuit uniform was straight and certain. The new look, and maybe the new alias, and definitely the time spent away, seemed to give her more confidence.


"You!" Amy hissed, eyes bugging. Then she calmed enough to smile. "You're so fired!"


Mina turned to her, frowning. "I checked the story policy... there was nothing in there against getting a mask and a secret identity, as long as we're still in uniform. You're not getting rid of me that easily!"


"Then they'll make it a policy! You're gonna get fired for... for fraud!"


"Oh, you didn't think of it first, is that the problem?"


"Is there a problem?" Leda emerged from the back of the cafe, much to the disappointment of Simone and her fellow baristas, who had been enjoying the show. "Glad to see you've finally joined us, Mina. What's that in your hand?"


Mina pulled the eyepatch back over her head. "It's Billie! Customers can't recognize--"


"Take that off right now!" Leda's widened, more in alarm it seemed than anger. "We're having a visitor! The owner will be here in just a few--"


"Good morning, girls!"


Simone turned to face the voice... and had to catch her breath. The woman standing at the door was perfect. Her platinum blonde hair fell shimmering past her waist. Her skin was so perfectly without blemish it might have been airbrushed. With her white business suit and skirt, she looked as if a shard of the bright morning light outside had stepped into the gloomily decorated room.


Simone felt plain and small despite her stiletto-accentuated height.


The woman, seeming to feel Simone's insecurity, briefly met her eyes with a warm gaze which reassured her at once. This woman's beauty didn't diminish her own--in fact, she could probably give Simone some tips to help her out...


"I want to thank all of you for your dedication in returning to work," the woman began. "You perform a valuable service in this establishment, although it can be difficult, or even dangerous. I'm so delighted that we can be open and ready for the winter rush, when the Minnesota crowd comes in. That's thanks to all our contractors, which includes you! Some of you have met me before. For those who haven't, I am the owner of this business. You can call me Laylah. You may have noticed some changes to our inward and outward appearance..."


"Has she been here before?" Mina's whisper broke Simone out of her reverie. "I feel like I know her from... somewhere..."


Simone realized she had an idiotic smile on her face, and wiped it off. For some reason, Mina's voice had the effect of a bucket of cold water... her eyes drifted from Laylah, and found Leda, standing off to the side. Her manager, who on casual inspection seemed as confidently self-assured as ever, had a stiffness to her bearing and a brittleness to her smile which spoke volumes to someone who knew her well. Leda, who had faced down raving superpowered murderers without blinking, was terrified of this woman.


*What's wrong with me,* Simone thought, shaking her head slightly in answer to Mina. As if this pale woman, however immaculately groomed, could give her any more usable fashion advice than she could find on TackyTube. No, she was here to make money and perfect her skills of drawing sinister doomsday devices and exploding planets on the foam top of a cappuccino.


"...and I want to reassure you all that our security has been updated, and you have no need to fear for your safety."


The door burst open, and several armed people rushed in. They moved to surround Laylah, who gave a single bemused blink and lifted her hands above her head.


"Nobody move!" shouted an older woman, to the assembled baristas. To Laylah, she said: "Are you Familiar?"


Leda, if anything, looked less tense than before. Amy just looked bored. The rest of them were silent and scared, but Simone felt Mina tense up beside her, and took a firm hold of the other girl's arm. Some people just didn't have the good sense Elvis gave to a herd of lemmings.


Laylah widened her eyes at the woman. "Familiar? With whom?"


"Don't you play those games with me. Where's my husband? Where's my Darnell?"


Laylah began to shake slightly. "I'm... not sure I know what you're talking about. Are you sure you have the right place? Why don't you all put the guns down and we can all have a nice cup of coffee while we talk about it? You're scaring my girls."


A younger man, who bore no resemblance to the woman, looked uncertain, glancing over at Simone and the others. "Frannie, maybe this ain't--"


"Keep firm, and don't use no names. Them girls could stand to hear a thing or two, maybe." She turned her attention back to the blonde woman. "We can't get close to that haunted house of yours, but we know where it is, and we can watch it. We even know what you call yourselves--the Four Humors--though we ain't ever seen more than three and we sure don't see nothin' funny about it. We all know someone who went in and not out. But we saw you come out. And now we want some answers." She lifted her pistol.


"I--if you think you have discovered a crime, might I suggest the police--"


"You mean the police whose chief goes to your mystery gatherings?" The woman snorted, lifted her pistol so that it pointed well above Laylah's head, and pulled the trigger. Then she began to gulp, her eyes bugging out as she fought to breath. Her gun, having produced only a dry click, clanged to the ground beside her. As she fell to her knees, one of her companions rushed to check on her while the rest opened fire, with the same result.


Laylah stood up straight again, patting her hair as if to make sure it was still perfect before she lowered her hands. "Your bullets would have been returned to you when you were a certain distance away from here," she informed the woman, her apparent fear having vanished. "If you had been just a little wiser."


"Glub!" Slits opened on the prone woman's throat, and her skin began to change. Simone took a step back, inadvertently dragging Mina, but fortunately there was no gory spray of blood, just some undignified flapping and increasingly wrinkled clothing.


"They're shrinking!" Mina whispered, her eyes huge. "And--"


Simone expected her own might be as round as fish eyes. If she had a mirror on hand, she could even make a judicious comparison, as all but one of the--terrorists?--now had the eyes and, indeed, faces of colorful fish.


The remaining gunman was on his knees, digging through the emptying clothes for his friends. "What've you done with them?"


"They have fallen afoul of our new security measures. Very foolish of them, but it makes for a wonderful safety demonstration." Laylah told him. "I want my employees to know that I have taken every precaution to ensure their physical wellbeing and protection."


"But what've you *done* to them?!"


Mina wrenched her arm free and dashed forward, kneeling down and seizing a flapping orange and green fish from a pile of clothes. She stood up, wobbly in her heels but still, to Simone's relief, on human legs, and hurried over to the aquarium to deposit her prize. Simone stole a glance at Laylah, who was watching with a lifted eyebrow. When the whiteclad businesswoman turned back to the gunman, she stepped forward cautiously.


"We cater to a rather violent clientele here," Laylah explained, "And we have had incidents in the past. But we would rather our customers remained in the world of the living, where they might learn better manners." She knelt down gracefully and plucked a silvery form from the pile of clothes in front of the man. Then she patted his cheek and rose, equally gracefully, and strode to the aquarium to set the fish gently free. Simone thought this maneuver would have looked a little more impressive if Mina hadn't tried it first, but the gunman seemed to find Laylah's swaying backside much more compelling despite himself. He whimpered.


"You seem to be a smart young man," she continued, returning to him, "There's no reason why you shouldn't leave here with lungs intact. In fact, if you're very good, and cooperative, and don't do anything foolish, there just might be a chance of your friends returning to their human forms. In time." She smiled and reached forward, putting her fingers under his chin and lifting gently, so he got to his feet, staring and shaking slightly. "Now, away with you!"


The man didn't wait to be told twice. Before he was out the door, Laylah was already beaming at her employees. "Everyone safe and sound? Good! Now let's get cleaning. Grab the rest of these fish and let's put the clothes in the lost and found. One moment... Billie, is it?"


*****


Daniel (or The Magnificent Malmechano, as he would one day be known) sighed contentedly as he leaned back into his folding chair, covered in a fresh layer of white zinc sunscreen. Despite everything else you could say about Florida, at least you could still say it had nicer beaches than San Francisco. Nicer beaches, and no chance of encountering family.


A bulbous woman shuffled by, herding her pack of mulleted brats. Daniel added 'better for comparative body image' to his list of the virtues of Florida beaches. But now he had other things to attend to. He turned to his laptop and started opening it.


"Master?"


Daniel jumped at the sound of 'his' wizard's voice, slamming his computer shut instinctively. Blago might have made a good henchman, certainly better than the last one he'd had. Unfortunately, Daniel wasn't the one signing the professional mage's paychecks.


If he had been, he reflected as Blago stepped into view, he would have forbidden the wearing of Speedos. Daniel's eyes began watering.


"I have completed the wards on company systems, Master." He began eyeing Daniel's laptop in a way the would-be scientist didn't care for.


"Don't you need robes or something? To keep--spell components or something?" Daniel sputtered. He couldn't look away from that hirsute belly. The hair on it rippled like a field of grain in the wind. He wondered if this man was also part cat… or possibly, part bear?


Blago was giving him a disappointed look. "A wizard--much like a magician--never reveals secrets. That is your laptop, yes? It may also contain secrets. It should be protected." He reached forwards.


Daniel flailed about over his precious laptop. "No! This computer is -- it's my gaming computer! For games only! Yes! And I don't want any pesky magic wards slowing down my framerate!"


The mage gave him a wounded look. "My spells do not make lag. And, you do not have to hide your magickal programs spying on your father's company from me. I will not snitch."


"Gllbhp?" said Daniel. "Bkkkkh."


"Yes. I know of it. You did not answer your phone, and I scryed for you, and saw. I know about the imp. But the debt I owe to you is much greater than the loyalty I owe your father for he paid me in mere money and you have paid me in opened eyes. The only one I owe more to is Martin Scorcese, who created.... the masterpiece."


Well, at least all the time spent nodding along to Goncharov babble on the flight back over had been well spent.


"So, er, if you're not going to tell on me... are you going to help me?"


"I will not become your Ice Pick Joe." Blago declared. "But neither will I stand in your way. I will let your great tragedy play out on its own."


It is not going to be a tragedy, Daniel thought. But there were more pressing things than his theories on Authors and how they might be manipulated. "Will you at least tell me why my dad has this sudden paranoia about magic?"


"Ah," Blago reached up to stroke his beard, realized that he had tied it into a bun for the beach, and stroked his chest hair instead. "Some things I can tell you, that are well enough known among mages. Savannah is a city of haunted repute, but it is also a haven for those who wish to practice their magic in peace. Your 'Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil', yes? I have not read this book, so I do not know if it shares any tropes or themes with--"


"No idea!" Daniel interrupted hurriedly, not wanting to spend his beach and plotting time on literature. "I haven't read it myself. Please continue."


"...very well. The city is unofficially ruled by a cabal of blood mages calling themselves the Four Humors. Homunculus, Daemon, Elemental, Familiar. Doubtless these are not their real names."


"Doubtless." agreed Malmech--er, Daniel.


"Whatever the true source of their dark power, they have made their city a haven for mages since the Industrial Revolution. Anyone with magical talents is welcome to live under their protection, regardless of moral alignment--so long as they do not make a--what is the term? A 'public nuisance'? Yes. This is why you will not hear about fireball duels and graveyard armies and men regularly exposing their most tender nether parts to the sun 'for their health', which would happen in any other place of such mystical concentration."


Daniel nodded, being familiar with all of three phenomena and having participated in at least two. "He can't be that upset just because there are mages. He hired you, after all."


Blago laughed. A more empathetic listener would have noticed the edge of bitterness. "You would be surprised. But no. Your father has... more rational concerns."


"So he's worried the mages will interfere with our product testing down in Florida somehow..."


"Indeed, for they have done so once already! The Totally Ethical and Charitable Biohacking Laboratory Office and Pet Store Complex was lost to you, and is now in the hands of a rival faction, is it not?


"The one in Legal Research, Florida, located just south of Jacksonville?! But that was years ago! And how did the catgirls take it from the mages?"


"I am not privileged with the details..."


Join the club, Daniel thought.


"...as I have not been hired to deal with the hijacked property." Blago said with a shrug. "But your father has been investigating the situation for some time, and he concluded that the mages are a threat."


"Isn't working against Savannah like betraying your own?" Daniel wondered if he could talk the hireling into working for him instead. He didn't care to mess about too much in a city with the poor taste to turn its perfectly serviceable abandoned warehouses into charming tourist-friendly riverside shops and restaurants. Furthermore if a group of shady mages wanted to get up to shady magic whatever, it was no skin off his back, especially if they were willing to sell him artifacts for his own shady purposes. (And double especially, he thought at a level below the conscious, if they were a thorn in dear old dad's side.)


Blago laughed. "I work against no one. I extract a high price for a few wards, and wish your company luck."


Speaking of which... "How high a price, exactly?"


(Continued in Part 2...)
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