Tripping Magic

2.3

Oliver McArdle shape shifted — that was his calling. We each had our own specialties. Mira’s abilities were in illusion, giving forms to visions and glamours. She also kept an elaborate greenhouse and had talent growing rare ingredients. Matthew’s understanding was at the mathematical-theoretical level. His experiments opened new ways of tapping into the energy that surrounded us. My own was a strange amalgamation of sympathetic magic and sheer will.

Oliver could be any form he wanted, but his preferred one was a black cat — a Bombay with slick fur and graceful moves. If needed, he could expand his size to that of a jaguar. His fluidity made tracking his location difficult.

I needed someone who specialized in divination. Alice Sweetwater was the best in the business for finding people who could hide from typical tracking spells, but we weren’t on that great of terms. I’d be lucky to get my foot in the door, but I had to try.

She lived in a quiet little neighborhood where parents let their children out to play without fear of violence. A pair of girls etched a hopscotch grid into a driveway with colored chalk. I watched for a moment from where I idled at a stop sign. The pavement would bleed color after each rain for months.

Making the turn, I drove the rest of the distance before pulling up to the curb across from Alice’s house. I came with the requisite sacrifice in the form of a carton of cigarettes. Pall Malls to be exact.

Stepping out of the Bronco, I crossed the empty street before walking up her path, cigarettes in hand. I stopped at the door and gazed at its knocker. A grape leaf crowned Bacchus stared back at me, a torc hanging from his mouth. I gave the brass a swing, rapping it against the heavy wood painted green.

The door opened a crack before it swung inward. A giant nose muzzled the edge, moving it further. Tongue lolling out in a pant, a beast of a dog stared at me.

The doorknob came to his jowls. Jagged fur alternating between gray, white, and tan feathered around his face and over his body. Amber eyes with a very un-canine-like intelligence met mine.

“Hello Ian,” I said, greeting Alice’s Irish wolfhound. Ian closed his mouth as his nose began to work the air, wiggling side to side. Satisfied with my scent, he took a step back.

Alice stepped into view then, one hand smoothing over the dog’s crown as the other held the door. Her hand rested hip level on the dog’s head.

“Alice.”

“Hello Alex,” she said, leaning against her open door as she focused on a point over my shoulder. “I thought I told you never to show up here again.”

Ian gave a huge yawn, passing his tongue over inordinately long canines. Alice glowered as her hand moved to grip her hip. Annoyed, she chewed on her inside of her cheek.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just….”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I needed to find the man who broke into Matthew’s storage to steal one of his most prized possessions. The contents of that lock box had been passed to him by his mentor. If nothing else, they were a keepsake.

“Whatever.” She said with a sigh, blond hair sweeping back and forth as she shook her head before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Ian made way, tail wagging as if happy I passed the test. As I walked by Alice, she held out a hand. I pressed the carton into it.

“Unfiltered?” She asked, feeling the box without looking at it.

“Of course.”

“Good.”

Blind to normal vision, Alice’s strength was the third eye. She could read the frequencies and fluctuations in the lay lines and celestial bodies like none other. For her, great sight in one realm meant total lack of it in another — Alice had been born blind. Only later had she developed the ability to harness what she saw.