Sacrifices (working title)

[Strausseman]

Chapter 1

   Charles Hunter slipped into the conference room looking distinctly out of place in his rumpled jeans and denim shirt. Three elderly women, all in black, sat on one side of the table; a teen aged girl, similarly dressed, sat opposite; and at the head of the table sat a black suited elderly man.
   The three women seemed cut from the same mold, though each different. One cried alligator tears, sobbing almost theatrically into an over sized handkerchief, one was veiled, and the third glared openly at Charles. The teen across from them bore a slight family resemblance, though her clothing looked more natural on her. Her normal clothing rather that clothes of mourning.
   The man at the head of the table stood "Ah, Mr. Hunter. Yes?" the man asked in a cultured English accent.
   "That would be me, sir." Charles slipped into the chair next to the teen. Tinny music drifted from her, until she reached into her pocket and turned it off.
   "It is about time." one of the three women spoke stridently. She sounded angry, but had the pinched features of someone who is always angry. "We have been waiting for three hours, and now it seems that we have been waiting for a yank. Typical American-"
   Before Charles could reply, the man stopped him. "Madam, as I told you earlier Mr. Hunter's flight was delayed due to weather. You did not have to wait here for him."
   "And waste the petrol driving home and back? I think not. Let's get this over with."
   The man sighed, seeming to force himself not to react. "Alright." He spoke as he opened a folder. "I am Reginald Barclay, legal representation for the late Henry Davies. We have gathered for the reading of the will and associated business." He glanced, a little nervously at the three elderly women before he continued. "Mr. Davies left two wills, so to speak. One is official and legal, the other is more personal in nature. I will be reading the personal will, and the official document will be available for your perusal." After a moment he added, "Or that of your own lawyers."
   He cleared his throat and lifted the top sheet of paper from the folder. "I, Henry Davies, being of sound mind, if not body, do hereby bequeath…" He trailed off, glancing from the paper to the three women and back several times.
   "Get on with it." The same angry woman that spoke before spoke again. "We all now how our dear nephew felt about us."
   "Right, of course." Mr. Barclay cleared his throat again before continuing. "I hereby bequeath to the three vultures, who have taken it in turn to circle my bed as my end drew near, nothing. My grandfather cut you out of the estate, and I will not go against his wishes. Aside from a few odds and ends, Emily gets everything. She has been with me since my brother passed, has been a daughter to me, and it is only right that she inherits the estate from me.
   "My old friend, Charles Hunter, gets the contents of a safe deposit box." Charles half stood to protest, but the lawyer kept reading. "Sit back down, Charles. It isn't a gift. I'm afraid that I need you to take care of something that I haven't been able to take care of myself. Two things actually. There's a letter with the lawyer that will explain most of it."
   Charles sat back down, mollified. "That's alright then, I guess."
   Mr. Barclay looked around the room. "That is it, I'm afraid. The official will follows this will, disbursing a bit of cash to a few charities, one club that Mr. Davies was a founding member of, so on and so forth."
   The apparent head of the three older women cut in. "A copy will be sent to our lawyers, yes?"
   "Of course, though I assure you, it is iron clad."
   The three women stood. "That is fine then, come along Emily, it is far past time for us to be home." The silent teen stood, reaching back into the pocket with the MP3 player.
   "Actually, there is a few business matters I must discuss with the young Miss Davies." Two of the three women started to file out, while the leader started to sit back down. "Privately, Ms. Davies."
   "Of course." Her voice was ice. "How foolish." She stood and left the room.
   After she had gone Mr. Barclay visibly relaxed. "Now that they are gone, we can get this finished."
   Charles stood. "I had better be leaving then too. Will you be mailing the letter to me, or…?"
   "No, I have it right…" He picked a briefcase up from the floor and started looking through it. "in my office." he finished. "I will be back shortly." He slipped out of the office by another door.
   "So… Emily, right?" Charles asked. "Henry mentioned you when we parted ways."
   "You were a friend of my uncle's?"
   "Yeah, from a while ago."
   "How did you meet?"
   "He was traveling in India, just seeing the world, I guess. I was there on business. He didn't really have any plans, and he thought what I was doing looked interesting, so he tagged along."
   The door opened and Mr. Barclay walked in, envelope in hand. "Here you go, Mr. Hunter. Please read this immediately, there will be something we need to discuss. Emily, I thought you might like to see how the estate will be cared for, until you are able to take over."
   While Emily and Mr. Barclay bent over a stack of papers, Charles turned away and peeled the flap of the envelope back.
   There were only two handwritten pages inside, covered by a scrawl that had been written by an unsteady hand.
   "Charles, I want to start by saying that I am sorry. I should have at least tried to keep in contact with you, but I didn't. Too late to change anything now, but just the same, I'm sorry.
   "I would like to say that I am leaving you some gift, but I know that you wouldn't accept it. What I am leaving you is two tasks. One is a simple matter that shouldn't take you more than a few hours. The details are in a safe deposit box, so I won't bother writing them out here. Just ask Reg about it.
   "The other will be more time consuming, though I hope little more onerous. You may remember the bit of temper that I had when we parted ways. My brother and sister-in-law had just passed away, and I was expected to cut my travels short and come back in order to care for my three year old niece. Selfish as I was, I felt put upon by the whole affair, I suppose a victim. Thankfully I got over that attitude before it did any harm to Emily. She is a good child, forced to be independent from a young age due to my declining health. She is my pride and joy, now. And she is alone.
   "The only remaining family are my three aunts. They have never liked her. When she needed help before, a home and the love of a family, they were content to leave her in the care of the government until I could return from India. If they seem to show any concern for her, it is because they see her as a way to get access to the estate.
   "Perhaps you already see what I'm getting at. I know you, I trust you. I know them, and I wouldn't trust them to care for a guppy. Emily is only a couple of years from being old enough to care for herself. All that I ask of you in this is that you give her a roof. She can handle her schooling, her life, far better than I at that age.
   "It is a lot to ask of you, but I could think of no-one else. Please do this for an
ungrateful student.
   "That brings another matter to mind. I always intended to teach her what you taught me. I continued my studies, I think you will be pleased to know, but by the time she was old enough to start learning, I was too weak to teach. You always seemed to enjoy having a student around, to show off to, I think. I think she would do well to learn.
   "A nurse is knocking on my door. More foul medicines, I suppose, so I must sign this letter. Perhaps I will have more to say later, perhaps not. Thank you, my friend. Even if you can not do this for me, I understand that I am asking a great deal, and I know that wherever Emily ends up, she will succeed.
   "Sincerely, Henry.
   Charles looked up from the letter. Mr. Barclay was studying him expectantly, though Emily seemed absorbed by a page in front of her. "Well? What do you think, Mr. Hunter? You don't really need to make the decision now, but Henry thought you might." Emily looked up as he started to speak, looking from one man to the other.
   "It's not entirely up to me, is it?" He walked the length of the table and offered the letter to Emily. "Why don't you take a look."
   She looked at him, a little confused, then back to the page in front of her. She read quickly, scanning the lines, sometimes stopping to reread a particularly difficult section. After a moment she set the letter on the table, staring silently at it. Finally, "What do you think, Reg?"
   Mr. Barclay stiffened, coughed nervously. "Ah, yes. I had a great deal of respect for your uncle, and he spoke highly of Mr. Hunter. If Henry thought he would do well by you, then he will."
   "And you, Mr. Hunter? However independent I may be, Your life would still be rather changed by taking me in."
   "For a time, perhaps, but I can live with it."
   "If you think so. It would mean moving to the states, would it not?"
   "I'm afraid so, for a couple of years anyway."
   "And the alternative would be Aunty Mathilda and her cats."
   "Cats?"
   "More than would normally indicate a sound mind." She sighed, scooped up the letter, and offered it back to Charles. "I don't suppose I am left with much of a choice. It seems that you have acquired a ward, Mr. Hunter."
   Charles looked to Mr. Barclay. "I imagine that there is going to be quite a bit of work."
   "Oh, of course. However Henry was so sure of your answer that he authorized me to go ahead and start working on the paperwork. I need your signature on a number of forms, and the background checks will take perhaps a month. As long as nothing untoward shows up there, that will be that. You can fly to the US at that point."
   "Back to Aunt Mathilda until then?"
   "I'm afraid so. You can't go back to the states with Mr. Hunter until everything has been approved."
   "I could stay here in London." Charles cut in. "There's nothing pressing that I need to take care of, nothing that I can't take care of over the phone at least."
   Emily turned to Mr. Barclay. "Would it be alright if I stayed with Mr. Hunter while he was in the country?"
   Mr Barclay seemed to consider. "Considering your uncle's recomendation, I would be alright with it. Are you sure that you can stay for that long, Mr. Hunter?"
   "Yes, it shouldn't be a problem."
   "Excellent." Emily smiled, "Then can I go tell Aunt Mathilda the good news? She'll take it wonderfully, I'm sure."
   Mr. Barclay looked to Charles, who only shrugged. "I haven't arranged for a place to stay yet."
   "That's fine, you can stay at mine and my uncle's house." She paused, "Or rather my house now." She seemed to darken for a moment, then shook her head. "Right, the electric hasn't been turned off yet, so we can move right in."
   "Come on." She headed for the door that her aunts had taken. "Let's go tell them the good news."
   The only person waiting in the next room was aunt Mathilda. She was the one of the three that did all of the talking. She stood as they walked in. "It is far past tea time. Come along."
   Emily seemed unable to stop grinning. "Actually, it seems that Uncle Henry made arrangements for me. I will be moving to America, at least until I'm eighteen."
   Mathilda's face froze into a mask. "Child, what are you saying. We don't have any family over there."
   "Mr. Hunter will be taking me in, as per Uncle Henry's request."
   "This yank? We don't know anything about him."
   Emily's grin only widened. "That's fine. He and I will be staying at Uncle Henry's house until the paperwork is ready. I am sure that I will get to know him very well in the month or so that that will take."
   Mathilda spluttered indignantly. "This- this is outrageous. We know nothing about this- this yankee-"
   "Ms. Davies." Mr Barclay stepped between her and Emily as he spoke. "If you would come this way, I will explain it fully."
   Emily and Charles slipped away as Mr. Barclay led the elder woman away. They walked silently, as Charles led her to his rental car. Once they were seated, Emily spoke. "You know Mr. Hunter, I don't have my driver's license yet."
   "Right, Europe."
   After switching seats, they set off, Emily giving directions. "One other thing struck me about the letter."
   "Yes?"
   "What exactly did my uncle want you to teach me. Turn left."
   "That is complicated. I think it would be best to discuss this later. Tonight perhaps. Where are you leading me?"
   "The bank. Complicated?"
   "I believe a demonstration would be in order."
   "I see."
   "No you don't."
   "No. Turn right up here."
   "Any idea about what is in the box?"
   "A smaller box and a letter. I was with my uncle when he set it up. Really? It is going to require a demonstration?"
   "Most likely."
   "Now I am curious."

[NicTei]

Very interesting, Strausseman, though there are a few things to watch out for.

"That would be me, sir." Charlse spoke with an American accent as he slipped into a chair next to the girl. Only as he slipped into the chair did she look up. Tinny music drifted from her until she slipped a hand into a pocket and stopped her MP3 player

For the red section there, add another space after he's spoken so that it looks like this:

"That would be me, sir."  Charles spoke...

And I believe you spelled 'dispersing' as 'disbursing' somewhere when they're talking about sending some money to the charities.

All in all, an interesting start!  I'm mildly curious as to what Charles' profession is, seeing as how he and I are Americans.

[Chinaren]

Enjoyable beginning Stram.  The first bit has a couple of small issues...

Warning - while you were reading a new reply has been posted. You may wish to review your post.

Okay, that darned NiceTea beat me to a couple.  Still, just one more thing...

The man at the head of the table stood "Ah, Mr. Hunter. Yes?" the man asked in a cultured English accent

"That would be me, sir." Charlse spoke with an American accent as he slipped into a chair next to the girl. Only as he slipped into the chair did she look up. Tinny music drifted from her until she slipped a hand into a pocket and stopped her MP3 player.[/quote]

... a couple of repeated words there.

Otherwise a very nice start. Well writ.  

Oh, and welcome to Tome!  

[Burningplain]

A most interesting beginning. I look forward to reading more. All gramatical and spelling mistakes I noted have already been pointed out and a few I didn't notice.

[Strausseman]

I modified the first chapter, not sure if it is obvious on the story street page. Here's chapter 2, now. Chapter 3 should be ready to go up by tomorrow.

Chapter 2

   Charles looked at the black lock box sitting on the desk. An envelope was taped to the top of it. Written on the top was a relatively ominous message, "For the love of God, read this first!"

   He pulled the envelope off the box and pulled a single hand written sheet out. "Charles, you and I both know this illness killing me is something more. I am cursed. The dagger in the box is what did it, don't touch it. It's wrapped in several layers of paper, fabric, and plastic bags. It is safe to handle like this, but don't unwrap it. Read the journal inside. It will tell you everything. Henry.

   "P.S. Remember, the man who wrote that journal is not the man I am today. Don't think to poorly of me for it."
   Charles looked down at the box a little nervously. A small key was still in the envelope, and opened the box. Inside was, as advertised, a fabric wrapped lump and a small leather bound book. Charles picked up the book without letting his hand so much as brush the dagger, even in it's wrappings.

   He riffled the pages, seeing enough to tell that the journal was barely a quarter full. The first pages filled with a small, neat hand, the last few with a messy scrawl.

   Charles began the journal. "2nd May 1998 : This will be the last of the annals of my journeys. Perhaps, when events are a bit farther removed, I will try selling them as fiction. I doubt if much in them will be believed.

   After receiving word of my brother and sister-in-law's untimely deaths, I now find that I must end my travels prematurely and return home to care for my niece. At twenty-one, I have unceremoniously become saddled with a four year old. None of my aunts were willing to take her, even for a short while, while I finished my tour of India, so I set out immediately.

   "Shortly upon returning to the UK, I chanced to overhear an interesting discussion between a number of unsavory looking gentlemen. It seemed that the royal archaeological society had uncovered some ancient Celtic burial site, but did not have the funds to fully catalogue it. Several guards were hired, with what funds were left, but when the advance ran out some weeks earlier, they abandoned their posts. As a result, it was lying guarded by nothing more than no trespassing signs. The men, it seemed, intended to loot the tomb of any material wealth to be sold on the black market.

   "Having some experience with these things, after my time with Charles; and looking for one last hurrah before settling down to family life; I offered my services to these gentlemen. They agreed, one more back on which to carry ancient relics, and I asked only for a few trinkets to remember the experience by.

   "4th May 1996: It seems that one of these men, who have all requested anonymity if I were 'to continue writing in that bloody fool thing' is a pilot with a small prop plane. This was able to get us as far as a small private airfield only a days hike or so from the site of the tomb. We've set up a small camp withing site of the airfield (I believe it to be abandoned, it consists of little more than a dirt strip and a darkened tower.) and plan to strike camp with the rising sun. We'll be at the site in time for tea.

   "5th May, 1996: Spot of rain in the afternoon. Did little to dampen our spirits, though. We arrived as planned, crossing the warning signs a little after five in the evening. Made camp while we still had light to find dry firewood, and had an initial glance at the tomb.

   "Over the years it had grown over with thick grass, and appeared to be merely a small hillock. Until, that is, you find the square of grass and sod that had been cut out to expose a solid stone door. I was able to talk the men out of blasting it open, pointing out the obvious risk of bringing the whole structure down on top of the antiquities inside. Tomorrow we will see about prying, or pulling the stone out of its place.

   "6th May, 1996: Easier than expected to move the stone. Took half an hour, and we were in. A half doze stone boxes sat in the room, all covered in a thick layer of dust and largely undisturbed. The original team to find the place left footsteps in the dust, but no one else had disturbed this room for perhaps a thousand or more years.

   "We spent the rest of the day hauling lids from the caskets and removing ancient armor and weapons from their long resting places. A wise man with connections could ensure a life long salary off the contents of our packs. Precious metal, rough cut stone, coinage, artwork. All carefully wrapped for carrying back to our starting point.

   "One oddity in our finds. A golden dagger, in excellent condition, in one of the caskets. I believe it was placed there rather more recently than the occupant, the dust on the stone is quite a bit thinner than the dust on the other casket. Perhaps it was placed here much more recently. A hundred years ago? Fifty even. It is by no means Celtic in origin. Writing on the blade may be Greek in origin and I think, though I am by no means an expert, that it is even older than the tombs. I believe that I have found my trinket.

   "8th May, 1996: No entry yesterday. No energy after carrying our loot back to the airstrip. Easy day today, though. Long flight back to the airport, then travel arrangements made back to home, before retiring to a hotel for the evening. In two days time I will be home, Emily will be set up in a room in the pile, until I can make better living arrangement in the city, and the family life will begin.

   "15th Nov, 1997: I have dug this old journal out to add a little more. I think this is the most appropriate place to put what I have to say. I have been having an increasing difficulty breathing. If it were not for Charles teachings, I would believe myself to simply be ill. It started after acquiring the dagger, so I did something I should have done much earlier and examined the dagger as Charles taught, not merely with my feeble physical abilities. It is cursed, and it is killing me. I will be researching the dagger, and the specific nature of the curse. Perhaps by returning it… I shall see.

   "17th Nov, 1997: Returning it will do no good. Nothing will. The curse is not meant as a deterrent, no tasks or apology will cure it. It is a punishment to whomever would dare steal such a thing. I found it, in literature and writings. Cursed thing that should never have seen the light of day again. If I can muster the strength, I will return it. If not, then I will endeavor to hide it. It can not be destroyed, I think.

   "6th, Mar, 2010: The end nears. Emily will be with one of my aunts, if you do not help her. No help for it at this point. I have done everything in my power to hold off this curse, but it was always a matter of time. If you are reading this Charles, return the dagger to where it should be. Greed was what did it. If you don't touch the dagger out of greed it will not kill you. Still, best to leave it wrapped, I say. I've drawn a map. It should show you to the place where the dagger was found.
   
"It is a remote place, nothing but fields gone to weed for miles in every direction. The team of researchers who found the tomb got their funding, eventually. They've been and gone, and shouldn't be back, there's nothing there for them any more.

   "Do yourself a favor, don't research it, knowing will do you no good.

   "Henry"

   Charles studied the map on the following page for some time. It was clear enough, and hopefully accurate. As long as the tomb was still accessible, that was where the knife would rest.

[Chinaren]

Yay!  A diary!  Nice little chapter old bean. 

Just one more tiny thing.  Watch your contractions, or lack of them.  When people are speaking, or even writing informally, they tend not to say 'I am'  or 'It is'  and the like.  It's all it's and I'm and so forth.

[Chinaren]

BTW Straussey, you can change your avatar/sig and other settings by clicking on your current 'Blinky' avatar on the left, or at the top of the page.

[Strausseman]

Chapter 3 is up. Thank you for your comments, they are much appreciated.

Chapter 3

"So what did you teach Uncle Henry?" Emily broke into his thoughts.

   "Bad habits, apparently." He muttered under his breath without looking up.

   "What?"

   Charles looked across the small library in Henry's, her rather, suburban house. She was sprawling in an old wing backed chair, both legs over one arm, and leaning against the opposite wing. The muffled music that she had been listening to had stopped some time earlier, Charles realized. "Magic." He said simply.

   "Magic? Like 'Hocus pocus! Look I've pulled a slightly  rumpled dove from my sleeve'?"

   "Not at all, real magic. Old and just a little dangerous."

   "Oh. I see," she stood as she spoke, "You're a nutter. Excuse me, I need to go call the lawyer." She didn't quite run as she headed for the nearest door.

   As she reached for the half open door, it slammed shut of its own accord. She hesitated, then grabbed the handle and pulled. It opened half way, jerked out of her hand, and slammed again. She spun, half in terror to Charles, and in that instant the room was perfectly dark.

   A single candle appeared in front of Emily, painfully bright in the darkness and floating at eye level. She reached out and touched it gently, pushing it away slightly, then gripped it. A moment of resistance, and she was holding it. Other candles appeared around the room. Some were floating in thin air, others sat on shelves and book cases. Soon the room was lit as bright as day by perhaps fifty small flames.

   "How are you doing this?" She was proud that her voice remained steady.

   "The complete answer would take some time to explain, assuming of course that you have the basic background knowledge to understand my explanation. Suffice it to say, magic."

   Emily held the candle up, and slowly opened her hand. It dipped slightly in the air, then slowly drifted to an empty space on an end table. "So you're not mad."

   "No. I'm not."

   "Just a- a what? Wizard?"

   "Among other things, I suppose."

   "And you taught my uncle this?"

   "Yes. The basics anyway. It seemed he kept up his studies." The chair that Emily had been in slid across the floor, and stopped in front of Charles, "Have a seat."

   Emily regarded the chair a little nervously before sitting. "How does it work? Would- would you teach me?"

   "I will, but it will have to wait. The magic here is… Henry died in the house, didn't he."

   Emily nodded solemnly. "He said that he didn't want to die in hospital."

   "I can understand the sentiment. I'm going to do something to you, a simple bit of magic, to show you
something."

   "Okay." After a moment Emily could see a mist appear in the room. Most of it was a sickly green, the color of rotted meat. More seemed to drift from her, pure white at first then bleeding into the green, and nothing came from Charles.

   "All life generates power. It drifts around, becomes the ambient energy of a place. Death taints that for some weeks: the bigger the death, the worse the taint."

   "Wizards use this to do magic?"

   "No. What I already did tonight would have killed me. Wizards draw on an internal source of power. I am a wizard, among other things."

   "Ah, yes, you did say. What are you, then?"

   "I am a mage. Mages draw on ambient power around them. The biggest difference though is that mages are born and wizards are made."

   "So you can't teach me, because you're a mage as well as a wizard?" The mist faded.

   "A spell needs to be preformed to allow a young wizard to begin storing power. As a wizard, I don't have enough power to cast it. If I tried casting it as a mage, well, i wouldn't like the outcome."

   "So we need to go back to the states first?"

   "Or wait until the taint fades."

   "Are you sure that I'm not a mage?"

   "You would show signs. Clumsy, subconscious attempts to use magic. No, I wouldn't let you stay in the house if you were."

   "I may not be able to learn for now, but can you show me something? Something proper, I mean." Charles
glanced around at the darkened room and floating candles. "I mean something other than making it happen without doing anything. There are spells and incantations and such, aren't there?"

   "Ah those, yes, of course." Charles leaned back in his chair, seeming to consider. "As you progress, your mind becomes use to gathering and manipulating power. As that happens, less is required for the same effect. At first three things are required for any basic spell. There is incantation, gestures of some kind, and above all: will."

   A candle floated down to rest between them. "Every brain is built differently, therefore every magic user will have slightly different incantations and gestures. The more basic a spell, though, the less variation. A pattern emerges as you learn the most basic spells, so you can learn more advanced spells as you understand how your own mind functions. There is more to it than that, but that is the basics."

   The candle between them abruptly died. "The most basic  elemental spells are the invocations spells. Each one is different in effect. Invoking fire causes something to ignite." The candle flickered back into life. "It is the most basic fire spell, so it is relatively simple. You should be able to figure it out in a few days." The candle flickered out. After a moment, Charlse spoke a word and gestured with one hand. A foot tall flame burst from the wick.

   Charles didn't speak again until after his eyebrows had stopped his eyebrows from smoldering. "One other thing to keep in mind, needlessly using spell elements causes the effects to increase."    The room's lights turned back on, and the candles vanished one at a time. "So what do you think?"

   "Why couldn't Uncle Henry show me any of this?"

   Charles studied her for a moment. She had her hands folded in her lap, and was staring at them intently. "He didn't die of an illness. Magic users don't get sick, ever. He was cursed, and by the end of his life he was using everything he had for just another day."

   "Why? He was in pain. He had been for years."

   "For you, you were a daughter to him."

   Emily pulled her knees up to her chest. "I used to feel like a burden to him. He never said anything, but I used to sneak in to his study and read some of his journals. Lots of gaps in them, though. I think he locked some of them up." She uncurled and sat up straight again. "How was he cursed? Something that happened in India?"

   "No, something that happened on the way back. He made a foolish mistake, and it cost him."

   "They never get sick?"

   "Nope. I haven't had a cold since I was twelve." He thought for a few moments. "That makes it 87 years,
almost 88."

   "You're a hundred years old?"

   "I guess so. That's a mage thing, pulling all of that life in. A wizard will have one hundred or so years minimum, and a mage three or four hundred. Maybe more."

   "Lucky you." Emily stood. "I'm going to bed, I've got an exam to sit for tomorrow."


PS, as far as contractions are concerned, I am intentionally keeping them out of certain character's speech, namely the very highly educated, or those trying to appear 'cultured', and Emily's. Almost everyone at this point.

[Chinaren]

Very good chapter.  Though you should put spaces between the paragraphs to make it easier to read online. 

"Oh. I see," she stood as she spoke, "You're a nutter

It's good to see that magic has rules in your universe.  Nice.

[Strausseman]

Here's chapter 4, hope you enjoy.

Chapter 4

Emily leaned toward the study door, listening intently to the sounds coming from inside. The rustling of papers followed by furtive footsteps. She jumped when a hand came to rest on her shoulder. Charles whispered quietly in her ear, "Who's in there?"

"I have no idea." she whispered back

"What are you doing with the cricket bat?"

Emily hefted the stout wooden bat. "I am sure that it would have been a baseball bat, if we were in the states." she hissed back.

Charles held out a hand. "Give it up."

"I've got it under control."

"Now. I don't want anyone getting hurt tonight."

Emily sighed, but offered him the bat. Charles swung it onto his shoulder,
before pushing the door open and walking in. "What do you think you're doing here?" he growled.

Emily leaned in and saw an elderly woman, obviously shaken, and clutching a handful of papers from her uncle's desk. "Aunt Clarinda? What are you doing?"

The woman beamed, obviously she thought that she had just been saved. "Emily, dear! I wanted to come check on you. Make sure this- this brute of a yank was not behaving untoward. Honestly, to come in here swinging that dreadful thing, such an- an- American thing to do."

"You were checking on me in the study? By rifling through my uncle's papers?"

The woman gaped a bit, trying to find the words. "I have never been here to visit you, I wasn't sure which room was yours."

"The papers, Aunt Clarinda?" Emily made it a point to stand closer to Charles, and the cricket bat.

"I- I- I- They were just lying about, and I thought about this" she looked pointedly at Charles, "American going through your dear uncle's papers. Really, child, we must get you back with family. We must make sure the estate stays safe."

"Mr Barclay is taking care of that, and- Hold on-" Emily leaned slightly to one side. "What's in that sack." She sighed wearily, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is that the silver? Please tell me that you didn't pinch the silver on the way
up?"

"The silver, dear?"

"If I go down to the kitchen, am I going to find a lot of empty drawers?"

"Only to set it aside for you, dear, I-"

"Get out."

"Emily, I-"

Emily pulled a surprisingly pink cell phone out of her pocket and dialed quickly. In a trembling, almost little girl voice she spoke into it. "Hello? 999 emergency? Someone's in my house. I can here them in my uncle's study. No, it's just me and a friend of my uncle, here."

As she spoke, her aunt's blanched, her eyes widened
"Emily, what are you doing? Dear? Please put that away. Apologize for bothering them, and hang up. Dear, please?"

Charles smiled at the older woman, "How long do you think it will take for the police to arrive? This is an affluent neighborhood, after all."

The woman pushed past Emily in her rush to get out. Emily and Charles stared down the hallway until they heard the front door slam. "You were a lot of
help." Emily said.

"I've learned not to get between family, especially not in a fight. Were you really calling the police?"

Emily tossed him the pink cellphone, and he flipped it open. A half peeled sticker, barely readable, said 'Barbie Party Time Phone' He pressed on of the buttons, and the dying batteries whispered something about going to a party. "What were you doing with this?" He asked, one eyebrow raised.

"When I heard someone sneaking around, I thought it might be something like this, so I grabbed it out of a box of old junk. Uncle Henry was never much for throwing things away, and I've inherited that somewhat." She took the phone back and slipped it into her pocket, "Still, did the trick nicely."

She studied Charles for a moment. It was the first time she had seen him in short sleeves. "Tattoos." she commented simply. Both arms had tattoos, mostly small images or symbols, scattered from wrist to where the short sleeves cut off the view. "If you don't have a problem with them, does that mean I can get one?"

"As soon as your too old for me to say 'no' to. Go to bed."

----------------------------------------------------------

Charles finished laying breakfast out on the small kitchen table, simple toast and oatmeal. Sounds from upstairs told him that Emily was in the process of getting ready for school. Only a few minutes after he finished laying out breakfast, she walked into the kitchen muffling a yawn with one hand. "I usually make my own breakfast." she said.

Charles shrugged. "I was up early." They both settled into the table. "Look, are you sure you want to go to school? I'm sure that no one would think it unusual if you stayed home."

"And do what all day? Brood? I would rather be doing something. Besides,
I've got to sit exams today."

"Right. That's probably for the best, anyway. I wouldn't be here to keep you company."

"Paperwork for Mr. Barclay?"

"Probably that too."

"Ah, the mysterious thing that my uncle asked you to do."

"Not so mysterious. I just have to return a cursed dagger to an ancient lost tomb, based upon the thirteen year old memories of your uncle, and a crudely drawn map." He mused for a moment. "Alright, maybe a little mysterious."
"Is the dagger what did it?"

Charles froze, a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to his mouth. "I guess it is."

"Can I see it?"

"I don't know. It's not safe. It's also pretty heavily wrapped. Henry didn't want to take any chances with it."

"Right, never mind. It was stupid."

"No, it wasn't. Truth be told, I'm a little curious myself." He finished thoughtfully, but shook his head. "It's not safe, though. I don't want to risk it."

"Right. It was a stupid thought, I do not need to see it." She hastily finished her breakfast and stood. "Right, I'm going to be late if I don't hurry." She scooped her book bag off the floor and started to head toward the door. "Oh, I should probably say, some friends and I are going out to celebrate the end of school."

"That's fine, have fun, be careful."

----------------------------------------------------------

Charles grumbled darkly as he stared at the small leather bound journal. He snapped it shut and looked around at the open field. "Stupid, useless thing." He pulled a three foot metal rod from a jacket pocket. Studying the flat ground around him he sketched out a quick, but careful circle. After adding a few symbols at various points around it, he put the rod away and stepped into the circle. After a brief incantation the field was empty, but for a softly smoking circle scratched into the mud.

A loud pop preceded his appearance in another field thirty miles to the south. Either the sound, or his sudden appearance startled a small herd of cows that began meandering away lowing loudly. He pulled the journal out of his pocked again, and checked the map near the end. He looked from its few landmarks to an abandoned farm house visible on the distant horizon, an oddly shaped hill further to the south, and a stump. Presumably the stump marked the location of what was once a lightning split tree. If it had been, then this field was his destination.

Charles walked to the hill and studied it for a moment. He held out on hand, clenched it, and jerked it to the side. He smiled when a large piece of the hill side followed his hand, hanging in midair. His smile fell when he saw that the hill had been solid. He shoved the several hundred pound mass of dirt back into it's hole a little more savagely then necessary.

Another field, this one simply rotated around the farmhouse that he had seen earlier. It vaguely resembled the one on the map, so Charles decided that he would examine every sufficiently sized hill near the remains of a forked tree. Surprisingly it only took ripping three more hills open before finding the stone block.

Inside the tomb, it was no doubt like it had been left by the looters. The archaeological team that had found the place either didn't get their funding or, finding it empty, abandoned the place entirely. One of the nearer caskets was still half covered by a lid, and Charles approached this one. He shoved the lock box containing the cloth-wrapped dagger into the casket, resting it on top of the skeleton within. After that, it was only a simple matter of using magic to shift to slab on top back into place, and reseal the tomb.

Only fourteen hours since setting out, and the job was done.

----------------------------------------------------------


Emily lay back on her bed, staring up at her hand. She moved it, almost the same way that Charles had but not quite. It still felt wrong, though in some undefinable way, less so. She held up a note book with her free hand and stared at the drawings she had made.

   After making the gesture, exactly as he had, countless times, she had begun thinking of it as drawing a symbol in the air. Somehow, without looking anything like it, the symbol was fire. Just wrong. She sighed in frustration, picked up a pencil and redrew the symbol, this time a little differently.

   She'd been musing on the spell since Charles had shown it to her. She had run it through her head, spoken the words, and made the gestures hundreds of times. Never with the will to do anything about it, though.

   She thought she had the incantation figured out. Just a slight shift in intonation to one word, and one silent 'r' where Charles had pronounced it. It was, more or less, simply adjusting it to her accent.

   She stared at the pencil in her left hand. Thinking about it adjusting for her own mind. Charles had formed the symbols with his right hand, and she followed suit. She slipped the pencil into her hand already holding the notebook and started to form the first part of the symbol with her left hand, and stopped when she heard a thump from the direction of her uncle's study.

[Chinaren]

   Wow.  That was easy!  I'm assuming there's more to the tale though... 

I'm enjoying this well enough Straussy, but it feels a little rushed so far.  I'd have probably taken about ten chapters to get to this point.  I think some more depth wouldn't go amiss.

I'd go over the chapter again as well (you don't need to post any revised versions tho), and tighten up some of the grammar and English a little here and there.  It currently has a not quite 'polished' feel to it, though that's certainly nothing unusual.  Writings on Tome are often like a second draft version, I know mine need lots of revision to make them prettier. 

And watch those contractions:

Emily hefted the stout wooden bat. "I am sure that it would have been a baseball bat, if we were in the states." she hissed back.

Apart from the slightly odd choice of words, she'd probably have said I'm sure.  There's another one later on I spotted too.

Anyhoo, keep it coming! 

[Strausseman]

Don't have time to say much at the moment. Re-read the end of chapter 4, I've rearranged a bit to address something a reader on another site noticed. Enjoy.

Chapter 5

      Emily froze, listening intently for any repeated noise. She snapped her notebook closed and stood as quietly as possible. "Right, I am getting tired of this." she snapped. Her hand hovered over the discarded toy cell phone sitting on her desk, but she decided against it, she would bring her real cell with her this time. She grabbed her cricket bat on the way past.

   In the hall, she saw Charles already at the study door. He had been about to open it, but paused when he saw her coming. "Fancy meeting you here." she whispered to him as she reached him. "Probably Aunt Eugenia this time."

   He held out a hand for the cricket bat. With rolled eyes, but no arguing this time, she handed it over. "Alright, yank, go on in and make her regret breaking in."

   Charles half smiled as he took it. "I think I'll do just that."

   He slipped into the dark room and was quickly lost to sight. Emily heard a grunt and a thud, then something heavy hitting the floor. She rushed into the room, "That's not what I..." Her voice died after she slapped the light switch.

   A man, dressed head to toe in dark green and gray, was down on one knee near Charles' prone form. He grunted, almost a sound of disgust, when Emily rushed in. Without taking his eyes off of her, he grabbed a handful of Charles' hair and jerked his head up.

   "Leave him alone, take what you want but don't hurt him. Please."

   The man pulled a knife and started to lay it against Charles throat. Emily fumbled her cellphone out of her pocket, flipping it open in the same moment. She had only taken her eyes off the man for an instant, but when she looked back up he was gone.

   She looked around, probing the shadows and anywhere a man could hide. She glanced back down at the phone, preparing to dial, and felt the phone jerked out of her hand. It broke against the far wall, pieces of plastic ricocheting back and bouncing off something she couldn't see.

   "What-" She was cut off when something shoved her into the wall near the door. She could feel something hovering inches from her throat, a pin-prick of pain touched her.

   Almost without realizing what she was doing, Emily spoke the spell that she had seen Charles cast. Her hand moved in the pattern that felt closest to correct.

   She heard something move, shooting away from her and crashing into her uncle's desk. After a pause, she heard a hoarse laugh. "All that mumbo jumbo, you don't know anything, do you? First I'll kill the real threat, then I'll enjoy finishing you." Charle's head jerked up, this time there didn't appear to be anything holding it. "Say goodbye to teacher."

   Emily snapped the spell out again. This time, as she drew the symbol, she drew it backwards. Mirrored from the symbol that Charles drew it. An instant later the air above Charles burst into flames.

   A few moment later, the man picked himself up off the floor, patting at a few last smoldering patches of his clothing. He had not selected it based upon its inflammability, and had not expected more than one magic user. He looked toward where the little witch had been standing and saw that she was on her hand and knees, dry heaving by that point.

   He grunted, she was incapacitated, probably would be dead before sunrise. He turned to the first one he had encountered. That man, Charles,  was picking himself up off the floor.

   Charles took one look from the girl, now lying unmoving on her side, to the man. Some of the many tattoos on his arms began to cast off a faint light. "I have no time for mercy." he growled.

   The dark clad man stepped through an open window and vanished into the night.

----------------------------------------------------------

   "Yes, hello, can I please speak with Robert Whitaker?…Yes, I know it's two in the morning… No, I'm calling from London… Yes, I am an American in London… It does happen to be a matter of life and death, actually. Ma'am? Hello?"

   "My wife would like to know what is so important to a school head master, as to be considered life and death."

   "Robert Whitaker?"

   "Yes, who is this?"

   "I need help casting a spell. It is vitally important, and I can't do it on my own."

   "I see. I think I may be able to help. I know the number of an excellent psychiatric hospital. They don't specialize in cases of delusional beliefs, however…"

   "Emily Davies is dying. I may be able to save her, but not on my own. And time is of the essence."

   "Where are you?"

   "Henry Davies' house."

   "Five minutes."

   When Robert arrived, a little less than five minutes later, he ran for the front door. Before he had a chance
to knock, the door banged open on its own. He ran in, stopping as he passed the threshold he heard a voice calling from the top floor.

   Following the voice, he came to what appeared to be Emily's bed room. She lay on the bed barely breathing, her skin chalk white. He ignored the man sitting at her desk with a radio half torn apart sitting in front of him.

   Robert knelt by Emily's bed and ran his hands the length of her from a few inches above. He was silent for several moments. "I wasn't aware that she was a mage."

   "Neither was I. I'll have to investigate that." Robert could see that he was doing something with a bit of wire and a needle. "Can you do any healing magic?"

   "Oh, yes. It won't do any good though. She… she might as well already be gone."

   "I'll take care of that." He crossed to Emily's bedside, carrying the wire. Robert could see that he had threaded the ends of the wire through the eyes of two needles and tied them off. "You'll need to heal this." He
lifted one of Emily's hand and, after a moment's hesitation, drove it into her wrist.

   She moaned softly, even unconscious, and tried to pull her hand away. Charles tightened her grip and bore down on it, forcing it deeper until only the eye and the trailing wire remained.

   Robert jerked to his feet as Charles pierced Emily's wrist. "Good Lord, man, what do you think you are doing?"

   "Helping her." Her turned his own hand wrist up and drove the needle into it with as much force. "I need to create a physical connection between us." He opened his hand, one of the fingers twitched out of his control. "I can save her, I think, but it will wipe me out. I need you to break off the spell, once she's in the clear." Charles gestured at Emily's desk. "There's scissors on the desk. Cut the wire as you break the spell. If you let it go on too long I will die, if you break it too early Emily dies. So I'm putting both our lives in your hands."

   "I've never heard of anything like this being done."

    "I did something similar once, a little different. This should work." With his uninjured hand, Charles began brushing tattoos on his opposite arm. As he brushed them, copies of them pulled away, following his fingers. After pulling a half dozen of them from his arm he paused. "If it comes to a choice, and it may, the answer is that she lives, understand? I won't be conscious to make the decision."

   "I understand."

   Charles reached out and scooped the floating symbols up with one hand. He held them for a moment, then opened his hand, now empty.

[Chinaren]

Huzzah, a new chapter. 

Just a couple of points first...

Still repeating words...

She snapped her notebook closed and stood as quietly as possible. "Right, I am getting tired of this." she snapped.

There's a 'phone' one a little later too.

She casts the spell (it would be nice to 'see' a more dramatic effect here), and then suddenly you shift your POV to the man, which is confusing.  Try to keep your POV to one person per section.

That man, Charles,  was picking himself up off the floor.

Seems an odd choice of words. 

The first section is a bit confusing, again, I think you're moving too fast with this story.  Slow down, let the reader get more familiar with your world and characters.  Action scenes should be interspersed with buildup, tension and general plot development.

The second part was better, but the phone conversation was confusing, insomuch as I didn't know who we were supposed to be following again.

However, it's much easier to read with the spacing! 

[Burningplain]

Damn this is good I like it.

[Strausseman]

Sorry about the long wait, life went insane for a while. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 6

   Charles stared up at the ceiling above him. He blinked several times, trying to force his vision to clear.

   "You know, that was really impressive. I've never seen a spell like that, or cast in that particular fashion."

   "Made it up myself." His voice was a hoarse whisper, "Probably. What did I do again?"

   Robert leaned into Charles' field of view. "Amnesia? Is that a side effect of draining your own life for someone else?"

   "Nope. I'm just a slow starter when I wake up." He sat up and looked at the bed that he had been lying next to. "She okay?"

   "Emily will be fine. Now that we have time to talk, would you care to tell me who you are?"

   Charles studied the man standing over him for a moment. A certain tension in the air told him that the man held a spell, ready to cast in an instant. "An old friend of Henry's. Charles Hunter."

   He started to push himself up, wavered, started to fall. At the last moment, Robert caught him around the shoulder and heaved him upright. "Let's retire to the library, hm? Get you off your feet."

   Charles took one last look at Emily. She was breathing easily now, sleep not near death, and was now merely pale. "Right, sounds good."

   After settling Charles into a chair in the library, Robert took the other. "So you are the famous Charles Hunter? Tutor to Henry. How did you know about me?"

   "You were on the bridge club list. Top of it. I mean, bridge? Really? Henry hated bridge, loathed it."

   "I took over, once the curse progressed to the point of stripping him of his magic. What happened here,
tonight?"

   "There was a break in. Someone looking for something, I think. Emily lit him up. I think she saved my life."

   "Oh? That makes you even then. She has never shown any sign of magical ability before now. None that I know of, anyway."

   "I didn't see anything either. If I had… She'll live though."

   "She will at that."

   "She saw me cast that spell once, two days ago, and she already managed to figure it out for herself.
Wish I could take credit for that, but she is talented." There was a long pause. "You're dying to ask me
something, aren't you?"

   "I don't want to appear rude."

   "I don't have to answer, even if you ask."

   "How did you do that? With your tattoos, I mean. Many of them appear to be runes, I can see that, but
I've never seen a spell cast like that."

   "Special ink, special needles, special everything really. It took me thirty years to figure it out. An
advatage of a long life."

   "Care to give a brief speech at the next, ahem, bridge club meeting?"

   "No, I don't think so. Never much one for teaching groups."

   "Ah, a traditionalist. I understand."

   "Well, I feel like death warmed over. I'm getting some sleep." Charles stood, wavered, but caught himself
this time. "No doubt I'll see you again, before I head back to the states."

   "At the funeral, no doubt. I won't expect to see Emily at school tomorrow. I will inform her teachers that
she is ill, and take care of a physician's note."

   
----------------------------------------------------------
   

   Emily stumbled down the stairs as the sun was reaching its highest point. She stood in the door to the
kitchen for a few minutes, blearily staring at Charles. "School." she managed.

   Charles looked up at her. She looked exhausted, and pale, but otherwise alright. "You're staying home
today. Have a seat."

   She slipped into one of the chairs, as Charles began moving serving dishes onto the table. "What
happened?"

   "What do you remember?"

   "I think I set someone on fire."

   "Yes you did, great job."

   "I thought I couldn't do that."

   "I thought so too. I still don't know how your ability escaped my notice."

   Emily focused on the table for the first time. "Is someone coming over?" she asked.

   "Nope. Thought you would be hungry, though. Dig in."

   Half a dozen large serving dishes sat on the table, all full of various breakfast foods, mostly fried. After a
few minutes Emily started filling her plate from the various dishes. "Not that hungry she said."

   "Are you sure you've never done anything out of the ordinary? Anything that might be considered a little
weird?"

   "Not magic weird, no. Wait, I've got to sit an exam today."

   "You've been excused."

   "But I need a doctor's note."

   "I took care of it, talked to your headmaster. I explained that you nearly died setting someone on fire,
and wouldn't be in today."

   Emily stared at him in obvious confusion.

   "Your uncle hated bridge. Everyone in the bridge club uses magic, including your headmaster."

   "Mr. Whitaker?"

   "Look, Emily..." Charles hesitated.

   "What is it?"

   "I don't know what the long term affects of this will be. No one has ever managed to survive this kind of
thing before."

   "Okay."

   "You're not really with it yet, are you?"

   "My head feels like its full of wool. Was Aunt Eugenia there?"

   "No, just the burglar."

   "What was he after?"

   "Beats me. I looked around, he didn't take anything. Looked like he was trying to get into Henry's desk."

   "Weird. It's always locked, I've never even seen it open."

   "I'll take a look at it later. I thought you said that you weren't hungry."

   Emily looked down at her plate. At some point she had pushed it aside, and pulled over the dish of scrambled eggs, then the sausage, the pancakes were gone as well. She shrugged. "I guess I almost died last
night. I expect that creates an apatite."

   "Right, of course." He hesitated. "I was supposed to go talk to the lawyer today, fill out some paperwork.
I'm delaying that though, I don't like the idea of you being here alone for now, not after last night."

   "What about the police? Maybe they can do something."

   "We didn't call the police, we can't. He ws either a magic user, or was being helped by one."

   "I thought I dreamed that bit up, or something. He turned invisible, right?"

   "Bent light, yeah. If I called the police they wouldn't be able to find him, and I would get in trouble."

   "From who?"

   "The council, kind of a ruling body of magic users. They want magic to stay hidden, so anyone who
draws attention to it is dealt with."

   "Do they deal with things like this though, magic being used to commit crimes and so on?"

   "Kind of. They pay people to, but I don't know the area, don't know who works for them here. I can look
around, but I really don't know who to contact."

   A knock on the door forestalled any more conversation. Charles moved to answer it. An elderly woman
stood there, clutching an oversized purse in front of here. "Well, aren't you a nice looking young man." she said
with an almost absent smile.

   "Can- can I help you?"

   "Robert sent me to have a look at Emily. Out of everyone in the bridge club there's no better healer than
myself." She looked Charles up and down. "You look as though you're doing alright. A little drained though.
After what Robert told me, though, I don't blame you. Do you mind if I come in?"

   Charles led her back into the kitchen. "Emily? Someone who says shes from the bridge club is here.
Robert wants her to take a look at you."

   Emily had slumped, almost dozing in her seat, but sat upright as they walked in. "What? Mrs. Rhode? Your a wizard too?"

   "Oh yes, dear. I've been a wizard most of my life. The tradition runs in the family." She set her bag on
the table. "First things first." She pulled Emily into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry about Henry. He was a good man,
we were all sorry to see him go."

   "Thank you, Mrs. Rhode."

   "Now let me take a look at you." She gripped Emily's chin with one hand and stared into each eye, "Say 'ah', let me see your tongue, there. Everything there looks fine. This may tingle a little."

   She almost seemed to glare at Emily and in the next instant an almost painful buzz travelled from the
crown of her head down. She jumped and yelped. "Tingle a little?"

   "And the doctors always say the needle doesn't hurt. You look fine, dear. A little green around the aura,
but I expect that will fade. No more magic until the house has cleared up. It looks nearly done, anyway. A little
faster than I would have expected."

   She smiled as she picked her purse back up. "Now lets see about setting some wards that will flay the
hide off of any would be burglars."

[Chinaren]

This is coming along nicely Strauss.  That was your best chapter to date.   

One tiny typo...

"Not that hungry she said."

[Niemand]

This is very well done. I like the distinction between mages and wizards especially. Keep the good stuff coming. 

[Burningplain]

Nice one, dead good chapter.

[Strausseman]

Chapter 7

   Mrs. Rhode was putting the last of her esoteric items into her large purse, as Charles walked into the kitchen. "The wards are excellent, thank you for your help." he said.
   
"Oh, it was no trouble at all. It has been quite some time since I've gotten to really stretch myself like this, I didn't know I still had it in me." She looked around the kitchen. "Emily seems to have disappeared on me."
   
"She went to take a nap a little while ago."
   
"Ah. That heavy breakfast must have caught up with her. Well, that and the sleeping spell I cast. She was surprisingly resistant to it." She turned to Charles. "I think this has left a mark on her. Did you notice the energy in the house?"
   
"It's nearly pure. It should have taken days to get to this state."
   
"Yes. I think she used quite a bit more than was necessary. That little bit of taint to her aura won't be as quick to fade as I said earlier. I didn't want to worry her, but it may have become a part of her."
   
Charles sighed wearily. "Nobody has ever survived something like this. For all we know…"

   "You may only have bought her time. I' don't know, but we'll see. I'll be around a few more time before you leave. Nothing more to be done for her, so no use worrying." She smiled up at Charles. "You don't remember me, do you?"

   "Should I? I don't have much of a memory for faces, I'm afraid."

   "No, I should have been more surprised if you had. I was twelve at the time, in northern Scotland. I didn't recognize you at first, but the spell you used on her, it is unique."

   "Ah, yes. That young boy. Nearly ripped his own soul out, driving those things away."

   "Yes, whatever they were. You pulled him back from the brink, though."

   "And it only cost him a father."

   "The man's choice, and the right one. The boy grew up into a fine man. A powerful wizard, throwing up a ward without any training, even if it did nearly cost him his life." She shrugged. "Emily will rival him though."

   "What happened to him, in the end? Do you know?"

   "Oh, I married him. Bless him, his heart gave out a year ago." She hefted her purse. "Well. I must be off. Faeries have been at Ms. Tilley's herb garden again."

----------------------------------------------------------

   Charles knocked on Emily's door. "Emily? Are you awake in there?"

   After a moment she replied, groggily. "I am now."

   "Thought you might like some supper."

   He could hear movement, and after a few moments the door opened. "Supper sounds good." She shuffled out into the hall, and Charles followed as she headed for the ground floor. "Shouldn't have let me sleep that long. Now I won't be able to sleep tonight."

   "Won't be a problem, I'm sure."

   "Had a weird dream." She stopped as they passed the door to Henry's study. "Dreamed I was with you in India. Daft, though. We were looking for an old lost temple to loot. Sell it off, make a fortune." She laughed softly.

   At the table she ate quickly, though not so ravenously as at breakfast. Charles sat at his seat, not touching his food, his brow furrowed. "You never did say what sort of business you were in, in India."

   "Looking for lost temples to loot." Charles answered immediately."

   Emily froze. "That's not really all that funny, you know. A little queer, if that really happened, and now I'm dreaming it."

   "Maybe. What city were we in, do you remember?"

   "New Dheli. You wanted to visit some old wanderer who claimed to have come across some old temple that had been swallowed by the jungle. I remember eating at this little restaurant. You said it was a tourist trap, like Chinese food in America, if I remember correctly, but there was this little doe-eyed serving girl. After dinner, while you were looking for your wandered, she and I… I woke up, then." She raked her fingers through her hair. "What's happening to me?"

   "When you pulled in that tainted magic, I think you pulled in something left over from Henry, some little bit of him. For a moment, you started to sound like him."

   Emily bolted to her feet, "Excuse me." She walked quickly from the room.

   Charles followed her after a moment. She was in the study, standing at her uncle's desk. One of the locked drawers had been opened, and she was holding a leather pouch. "You figured it out." he said.

   "Hidden latch. The others are sealed magically, but this one has a lever in the foot well." She sat down and opened the pouch. After a moment of hesitation, she pulled a pipe out. Shaped like a lion's head and aged to a honey yellow.

   "I thought that his illness was because he smoked so much. I threw away his tobacco. I thought that had been it, but I guess not." She looked into the bag, then began drawing out the finely shredded tobacco and began packing it into the bowl of the pipe.

   "You smoke?" Charles asked, speaking quietly.

   "No, never have, but I feel like..." She trailed off as she packed a little more in. She took a test draw on it, nodding to herself. Leaving the pipe clamped in her teeth, she pulled a box of matches from the bag, lit one, and used it to light the pipe. All done expertly, as though by long practice.

   "Henry always smoked it when he was stressed, or upset."

   "Is this going to go away?" She snapped angriley, "Or am I going to keep on having these dreams? I don't really want to live through my uncle's life."

   "I don't know, we'll figure it out."

   "Figure it out? How do plan on doing that?" She had nearly shouted the last. "You said ealier that I'm the first person to surive something like this."

   "Calm down, Emily. Smoke your pipe."

   "Smoke my...? Some guardian your turning out to be. Smoke your pipe, indeed." She started to take a puff, and stopped to relight it. "Still, if I don't have to worry about illness, there's not too much danger in this. I needn't have thrown out Uncle Henry's either." She looked into the pouch, "Not that it did much good."

   "My best guess is that this will fade over time. All of it, I think, but I can only guess. When we get back to the US, I can take a better look at you with some of my equipment there. Until then, we just have to monitor you."

   Emily puffed silently on the pipe for several more moments, before pulling an ashtray out of the drawer and tapping the ash out of the pipe. "I am tired. As weird as sleeping may become, I am going to bed."

   "The funeral is tomorrow."

   Emily sighed and nodded. She slid the pipe and other few items back into the pouch. "I'd almost forgotten." She pushed them back into the drawer and closed it. "I knew that the tobacco was is here, knew how to open the drawer, knew how to pack and light it properly. What else do you think I may learn from this?"

   "I don't know. I wish I could give you some answers."

[Chinaren]

Another very nice chapter there Straussy! 

[Niemand]

So she's going to the funeral of the man she's now possessed by or channeling or....something. That should prove interesting.