Living Magic and Dead Mages: Chapter 1

Oh  hey! Look, it's an original!  Don't worry, Weaver's Web is still continuing, but I'm also gonna be releasing this story here. 

***** 

One nice thing about a book store—it doesn’t open early. Mike shrugged as he flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.

Not that many people would show up. Far Horizons was a used bookstore, and more and more people were happy to buy a book cheap online and read it on their phones or tablets. Most of the people coming to Far Horizons were looking for old books that they couldn’t find online, but there weren’t a lot anymore.

That’s probably why Mr. Wilson lets me run the place on my own. Not many stores would trust an 18-year-old running things by himself, but Mike had been handling the day shift since he’d graduated from High School, two months ago.

One more month, and I’m off to college. Mike walked back to the counter, adjusting the sagging spin rack loaded down with old romance novels. Mr. Wilson had been cutting back on buying old books, and Mike wondered if there would be a Far Horizons when he got back from college.

Well, he is getting old.Wilson had been a fixture ever since David could remember. Shaking his head, Mike went back to turn the cash register on… and wait for someone to show up so he could use it.

Not that any—Mike’s head shot up as the sound of the door chime filled the crowded little bookstore. Ms. Haven is here for her romance fix…

Except the man filling the doorway wasn’t Ms. Haven. He was big, at least 6’6, and his broad build filled the doorway as he walked in, looking around. Oddly enough, for summer, he was wearing a big gray coat, with pockets all over it. He reached up and pulled a big floppy hat off his head, revealing short, gray hair, and a pair of eyes that were…

Such a light blue that they were almost colorless. There was something… really strange about them.

“Hello, young man,” he said, his voice a rumble. “May I ask for your assistance?”

“Um… yes!” Mike said. “What can I help you with?” And who the hell are you? Mike knew just about every person who came to the bookstore on sight, and it wasn’t as if the bookstore was known to anyone out of town.

“Some questions,” he said. Mike found himself looking away from those creepy-ass eyes.

“Sure,” Mike said. “We get new books in on Friday and we can do special orders, but depending on how big they are, we might need to take a deposit.” Shit, where are the forms?

“No need for that, young man.” The big guy leaned on the counter and then pulled back when it started to groan. “My questions are of a different nature. I’m a… historian. A seeker after old stories.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know if I can help you.” This was the day that Mr. Wilson had to be gone.Wilson could talk your ear off about all the old stories.

“No need to worry. Have you ever heard of the house on Eagle Road?”

“House?” Mike shook his head. “There isn’t any house up there. Or… did one burn down?”

“Sadly, no.” He shook his head. “I was hoping to find some information, but none seem to remember.”

Remember? What, there never was a house up there. The man looked around, staring at the bookstore, the old books in their sagging shelves, or the pile of “valuable” newspapers that Mr. Wilson took from Mrs. Johnson every week, assuring her that they were quite valuable, before he had Mike take them off to the recycle place.

“It’s changed since I was last here,” the man murmured. “A pity that David was never able to…”

“Mr. Wilson’s dad?” Mike shook his head. “I’m sorry, but he died a long time ago.”

“Ah… yes, sometimes I forget how quickly the years pass. Tell me, has your family lived here for very long?”

“Yeah, sure,” Mike said. “Since the 1800s, I think.”

“Well…” The man stared at Mike and Mike once against found himself wanting to look away from those colorless eyes.

But he couldn’t. There was something…

The man nodded and released Mike from his gaze. “Tell me, just one more try—are you certain you haven’t seen this house?” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a picture.

Mike stared at it for a moment. It’s a blank—then he shook his head. “Hey, that’s pretty neat. A trick photo?”

“You’re seeing something?”

“Yeah. House. Big old house.” Mike shook his head. ”But I’ve never seen anything like it around here.”

“Ah.” The man tucked the photo back into his coat. “Thank you. You’ve actually helped me a great deal, and as such, I have a gift for you.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a metal staff, a little crystal on the top that caught the light in the store, sending it back in a spray of rainbow light. He put it on the counter, and reached back into a pocket, emerging with a heavy, metal-bound book. “You may find these useful.”

Without another word, the man turned and walked out the door, Mike staring at the book and staff.

Then Mike shook his head and ran to the closing door. “Hang on!” he shouted as he pushed it open and hit the street. “What do you mean for…” his voice trailed off. There was no sign of the big guy. Nowhere. Just the little shops that lined the street and a few people who were staring at Mike. The sandwich shop to the right just had one man sitting at a table, staring at Mike.

Mike gestured at the street. “Hey, did you see a big guy come out here?”

The guy looked at Mike and shrugged. “Nah, man, and I’ve been here for the last hour. You okay?”

“Um… yeah. Sure.” Mike nodded and walked back into the book store. What the hell? He’d seen the guy. And the guy was big! So why… Mike glanced at the counter. Yeah. There was the book and the staff.

So at least I’m not going crazy.Mike shrugged and walked up, hefting the staff in his hand. The metal was weird, silver with veins of crystal running through it. I have no idea how they did it. Some kind of cosplay company? The book was heavy, with a metal cover and a locked clasp.

Oh, for… Mike stared at it. The guy had given him the book, but no key!

“I wonder if I’m being set up for some kind of prank video?” Mike looked up and around, just in case the guy had left a camera somewhere. Nothing, and the guy didn’t look like the sort who would set up a prank. Especially with those eyes…

Mike shivered. He went to the door and propped it open, to let the summer air in.

Because for some reason, there was a chill that just didn’t seem to be leaving the air.

*****

For the rest of the day, Mike kept staring at the book. He pried at the lock with a knife, but no luck. A few customers came in, including Ms. Jenson with her damned yappy dog, which at least this time, didn’t leave a mess on the carpet.

The staff was a little over six feet tall, a couple of inches in diameter, but it… Didn’t feel as heavy as a metal staff should feel.

“Aluminum?” Mike muttered. Doesn’t feel like it. Doesn’t feel like steel either, and it sure as hell isn’t as heavy as steel. He shook his head and put the staff down behind the counter, as someone came in to sell their kid’s old comics, the comics visible through the plastic of the shopping bag she’d brought them in.

Another person who read that comics can be valuable and is gonna want us to give them a million bucks, Mike thought. He pasted a smile on his face as he looked at a genuine foil number one variant cover…

Of which about a million had been printed. Mike figured half of them had gone right to collectors and hadn’t even been unbagged.

But the woman’s expression said it all. These were super valuable, and any attempt by Mike to tell her anything else was proof that he was trying to steal the precious books she’d brought in… including the ones with coffee rings on them.

“May I help you?” Mike asked.

“I found these comics,” she said. “And I checked their value online at Best Comic Collector’s Tips, so don’t try to tell me they aren’t worth anything!”

Wonderful. She went to the scam website that is set up to convince people to buy backstock from their local comic book store, because they sure as hell can’t sell it to normal customers.  “Well, Ma’am… I can tell you that most collectible comics have to be in mint condition. Now my boss is the only one who has the authority to buy comics at higher than their retail price, so if you want to talk to him, he’ll be in this weekend…”

She opened her mouth, and Mike let her words rush over her. Here’s the part about how Action Comics #1 is worth…

“And that Superman comic is worth a million dollars!”

And there we go. Mike sighed and started explaining to the woman why Action Comics  #1 was so valuable… and why the bag of junk she had brought in was probably only fit for recycling.

It didn’t go well.

It reallydidn’t go well.