Keep Calm, eh! Part 1

"Ahh! C'mon!"

The pick-up that splashed me keeps going, its shitty muffler sounding like a smoker laughing at me. I can hear Mom's voice...

'You're so dramatic; nothing was laughing at you! That muffler was just a muffler!"

"Right Ma; no way that inanimate object could laugh at me..."

"Ok, it could have been laughing at you, sure. The point is you don't have to sulk about it!"

"That was not sulking! This is sulking!"

I cut off the Sync and send her mind a flash image of a muffler laughing. I'll hear about it when I get back home, but I hate when she colour commentates on my life.

She can't leave the house like she used to; so now she needs me to be her eyes and ears. Every morning I take a part of her consciousness into my own and she sees and hears what I do. Also means I'm essentially the only human interaction that she gets on a regular basis.

Ma' discovered her own energies right around the time the American Puritans were finding Sinners and Witches. Nearly 200 people accused of witchcraft, 19 convicted, 18 hanged, and one poor sucker was pressed to death; not a single one of them was of our people. The Puritans were just one reason our family never went south

Ma tells me that one of the first spells she built was to Hex a guy who didn't give to her "charitable cause" as she called it. She was 11 and didn't know what she was doing. It didn't end well for that first guy, but she assured me she had a lot more practice. Back then Ma didn't have much other than a canvas sack.

For years she would go around and ask for any donation. She wouldn't turn a single thing away; everything had a purpose. Food and clothing kept her going, virtually everything else she used to learn how to use her energies. After enough time she had gained a reputation for panhandling and cursing anyone who didn't give her anything. She says it wasn't everyone, but I've seen the canvas sack. The only thing in it now are small locks of hair... the sack is nearly full to the brim. I'm not saying they're trophies and my mother is similar to a serial killer, but I always carry a loonie for any homeless person that asks.

She never did take it well when I didn't do what she asked.

I get to work still soaked from the chest down. The Pick-up did absolutely nothing to avoid the puddle, and now I have to sit here and answer phones marinating in street juice. I'll set the frame for the spell in-between calls, but I'll have to get somewhere dark to build it. Looks like I would have to wait until lunch to do that, and at that point I'll be air dry so... yup stuck in the street juice.

"Hey! Sola! You here yet?!"

Boss Man Leo is shouting at me from his office; grand total of 5.35 feet from my desk.

"Yeah, Boss! Just got here. What can I do for you?"

Putting on my best "You're the best!" shit eating grin, and walking in with his usual coffee. 45 minutes old, cold, 8 packs of sugar, 1 pack of Splenda, and a bump of Cocaine. He says the Splenda is for flavour!

"Sola! Have you heard from Mrs. Latton? I was hoping to ask her some stuff about her son." Leo always has a huge smile on, and at the same time seems to hide daggers behind every word.

"No messages yet, but I'll put a call in as soon as I can! A couple of new 'clients' came in last night."

"You know I hate when you call them clients. They're fugitives."

"Sir, yes sir! Won't happen again, General! Aye Aye Cap'n." I can't help but mess with him when he acts all business but sips on his diabetic O.D. cocktail. He sits there glaring at me for a second longer than I feel comfortable with.

"Just go away and call Mrs. Latton..." The way he trails off let's me know he isn't that upset.

"Bring me another O.D Cocktail, please." And the "please" tells me he doesn't know what to do without me. Job Security is such a sweet thing!

I finish doing the usual running around I have to do when I first get here: O.D Cocktails, filing new fugitives and the forms that come with them, sweep up the glass from broken bottles. Sometimes the glass comes from angry "Clients" or their family smashing empty bottles of courage on our sign. Sometimes the glass is inside from angry bouts of self pity from Leo.

Now I get to call a mother worried about her son, and harass her for any information that Leo can use to hunt him down. Most of the parents don't really co-operate; I've dealt with so many I can hear the truth through the lies. If they say they're at a girlfriend's place, the kid probably skipped town. Parents haven't heard from them in weeks, wait outside their door for 15 minutes and out comes Einstein-on-the-run.

Mrs. Latton is surprisingly different. It doesn't take long for me to get some key info from her. A few prods into why James, her son, would want to hide, some well chosen, biased, statistics about police shootings and the map to Shangri La was shoved into my waiting hands.

"Hey, Leo! I got Mrs. Latton on the phone an- Shit!"

Leo is keeled over on his desk, O.D cocktail spilled all over his desk and slowly dripping onto the floor. He's dead. I know he's dead before coming around the desk, but it's confirmed when I watch him for a solid three minutes and he doesn't breathe. I'm not about to touch him. If he was alive, he might take me touching him as an invite. If he's dead... I hate touching the dead. They always want to push their last hopes and wishes on you like it's up to you clean up their loose ends. Screw that, I've got way too many loose ends of my own. Thank you very much!

"Ugh... Leo why do you do this to me? Is it on purpose?!"

Pro-tip: use any available wheeled chair in the vicinity to move a body, and lock the wheels when it's time to lift that sucker!

I've managed to keep from touching any exposed skin so I have no idea what Leo's last dying wish would be... don't ever want to know. There is not enough Bleach or Brimstone to burn that out of my mind.

The elevator opens when we reach the basement and I start pushing Leo along in his office chair. Goddammit! I should have gotten him the new chair he's been yammering about. Lower back support, massage and heat features, speakers built in... and working wheels.

Steering Leo into the middle of the room I take a look around. Dank, Dirty, and Dark; only the last one is important for magic. We have to "build" our spells using structures of light. The strongest Magus can build spells of unimaginable power under mid-day sun. The weakest can barely do a card trick in pitch black.

A reanimation spell isn't the simplest of spells, but I could have done it up in the office. The problem is that there are windows on all sides and the light show that is about to happen would definitely freak out the mix of day traders, retail workers, and hobos that frequent the sidewalks outside. Keeping it secret is one reason, the other is that I'm lazy. Down here it's dark enough that I don't have to put in as much of my own energies to cast the form once the spell has been built.

First, the foundation: I fashion a quick Metatron Cube. Think a Hexgon with intersecting lines drawn from each corner to connect it to the others so that every corner is connected to each other through a series of intersecting lines. Then place circles, or as close as you can get, over every point the lines overlap. All reanimation builds start with this as their foundation.

Second, I need to build the supports, a way to connect the Cube to the conduit, AKA Leo. I fashion spiraling pillars on the circles at the corners of the Metatron Cube. It's best to create as tight of a spiral as you can since there's going to be a lot of energy and the spirals help regulate it.

Last, I need to fashion the altar that will channel the energies into Leo. This step is much more free form, at least the way I build. In this case, I think about what needs to be done: bring Leo back. The altar starts to form a hospital bed. I think about who Leo was; The altar starts to shimmer and ripple making it look rough to the touch. I remember the first time we met; he was chasing me down because I skipped bail on a bogus breaking and entering charge (if I want in somewhere I wouldn't need to break anything, and I definitely wouldn't be seen).

I cast my energies through the build and watch the low glow of the structure start to intensify and spread. the Metatron Cube starts to rotate moving the pillars with it. The light finally reaches to the very bottom of the build and fireworks go off. The Cube is starting to change my energies into the kind that can make Leo move again. I have no idea the intricacies of what happens to the energies that Magus put into their builds, but all castings are done to transform our raw energies into working or specific energies. The light takes off through the pillars, running up through the spirals. Watching it makes me think of a barber shop.

The light hits the altar, changes from gold, to white, to pink, to black (yeah there is black light and no its not the same kind that turn hotel bed sheets into glowing abstract art) finally landing on eggplant purple... Leo's favourite colour. That's the sign it worked.

I start for the elevator. It's going to be hours before he's actually conscious. The spell works on the motor skills first, but without a thought behind it, Leo is pretty much a chicken with its head cut off. He won't even have senses until hour two. Either way it's not the first time I've reanimated Leo. That's how I ended up as his assistant and not in jail. Hard to turn in the person who stitched you back together (literally) and brought you back (in a fashion) to life. Although, it was my fault he went over the bridge; so let's just say our fates are inextricably connected!