…and hilarity ensues
The Fiction Experiment: Part 3
There among a dozen other seemingly mundane devices lay a pair of old fashioned opera glasses. An antiques dealer would tell you that they were made in Switzerland about 1890. Arielle couldn’t have cared less about that. What she cared about is that they had belonged to her grandmother and they had been enchanted one week after the sorcerously triggered Great Earthquake of 1906. Grandma had used them to help her coven locate and banish the sorcerer, Lo Pan.
Why did her grandmother enchant a pair of opera glasses and not, say, a large magnifying glass or a mirror? Arielle never knew, and besides, why did anyone do anything strange? Of course, strange was a relative thing in a world where a 28 year old witch cum private detective had a hyper-intelligent telepathic terrier for a partner.
Opera glasses in hand, Arielle turned to face Pete, who was still unconscious. It would be easier this way, fewer questions to answer. As she brought the glasses to her eyes, she used her left hand to turn the focusing ring. Pete was soon outlined with a bright yellow aura. After a bit more focusing the aura faded away and she saw a mark on his face. It looked almost like some strange tattoo, but she knew that it meant he had been Touched by gazing into a cursed mirror.
“Damn,” she said as she lowered the glasses. “They used a mirror to do it, Bob. Probably swapped it for a mirror they knew he’d be looking into.”
“Most likely the one in his bathroom. Poor bastard probably went to shave and ZAP, he’s Touched.” Bob hopped down from the couch and walked over to Pete, who was beginning to moan as he came to. He sniffed the air a bit, then stepped back snorting and shaking his head. “He hasn’t been Touched for too long…couple of weeks…three at most.”
“Well, that’s one good thing. If we can get him into a Circle, he should be ok for another week or so.” Arielle placed the opera glasses back in the cabinet, then went to help Pete into a chair.
“Wha..huh…what happened?,” Pete groggily asked. “Did you try to kill me?”
Arielle gave a short laugh. “No, not yet. But hey, they day is still young.” She sat down behind her desk and reached for the phone. It was time to call in some help.
So, Gentle Readers, who does Ari call?