Great.
Just great.
Just. Frickin'. Peachy.
I shut off my laptop and ceased my mental searching; I put an abrupt halt to any action of mine that was conspicuous; I strengthened my personal wards and masked my angelic aura. The fact that there was a party of dead folks in my house was moderately suspicious, but given that Larin and her people had been "living" here for many decades, I doubted Chaos would pay attention for much longer.
I waited.
I waited in vain.
I couldn't just keep sitting there. While angels ARE designed with infinite patience, it simply wouldn't be practical. I had to find a way to keep Chaos from finding out about my actions, it would simply not be practical to have the god knowing that I was tagging one of his most powerful warriors.
But. how do you hide from a god?
It should be possible. Nearly anything is possible for a fifth dimensional creature residing in the third dimension, if they know how to make it happen. I wished at that moment I had paid more attention to the defensive magic portion of my field training.
It was time to consult the resident witch. "Larin!" I called. "Larin, would you please come here?"
She rose up through the floor, startling me. "Yes, Milady?"
"How do you hide from a god?"
Larin screwed up her face at me. "Well, you start by not saying stupid things like that. Now he knows you know."
"I already know that he knows that I know that he knew that I.know. wait, what?"
Rolling her eyes, the witch gestured for me to sit on the floor. "Hush yourself, Angel. Did you pay attention at all during field training?"
"That depends on what you mean by...."
"Using the techniques to throw pencils at your neighbors does NOT count."
"....not much then."
Larin sighed and twisted her beautifully translucent hands into the air, tracing symbols out of nothingness that left a fiery after-image in my eyes. She whispered words of power, invoking forces as old as Angels. I felt her touch the fragile threads of reality and reorganize them at her will. I doubt I will ever see another mortal, living or dead, with as much power and skill as Larin.
"Listen." She said, her voice taking on the firm tone of a teacher. "Third dimensional magic is all about patterns. Miracle energy doesn't work as well here without an extremely direct link to God Himself. What humans perceive as 'magic' is really just breaking and binding the lines and threads and segments that hold the universe together."
She paused, drawing a circle of green fire in the air. "Normal humans cannot see the weave, the threads are invisible to mortals until after death. Some, like myself, were born with the ability to break and bind. The more volatile arts, chaos magic and miracle energy, break the strands then cauterize them, leaving a lasting scar on the fabric of space-time. Order magic can reweave it, but that's still deforming. Magic is the safest way to get anything paranormal done in this dimension."
The witch was silent, and I watched her draw symbols inside her green-fire circle. I felt the power of these symbols, the power of the things they named and unnamed.
Then it was over. The spell was cast, and it was good.
"That was impressive." I said, though those words felt rather weak after her display.
"It ought to be." Larin stood again. "I've practiced magic for over seven hundred years, Angel Neruthael, and this is an old spell. There are newer versions, but they involve computers and I don't trust those things."
I lifted an eyebrow. If I knew anything about human society, it would involve computers. "Where would one go to learn these so-called spells?"
Larin laughed. "To be honest, I don't know. There used to be a school of magic, but I think it's been torn down. There are a couple mortals who can see and feel the weave, but most can't do anything with it. Probably should ask one of your contacts. You have a Summoning permit, right?"
"Wouldn't leave Heaven without it."
"Good call. So summon someone who'd know. Shillradai, maybe. Or Taik. Or even Jerrick."
I nodded. "I'm thinking Torque, myself."
"Don't know him."
"He's not one of ours, technically. Technology demon. He's the one who caused the first Blue Screen of Death."
Larin looked skeptical. "How do you know he's trustworthy? Demons aren't usually trustworthy creatures."
I grinned at her. "Trust me. I've used Torque before. He's not exactly trustworthy, but he's a terrible liar. Turns bright yellow when he tries to."
"Chameleon or shape shifter?"
"Neither. Just a lizard that can type."
The ghost-witch nodded to me, though it was obvious she doubted my ability to get Torque to tell me the truth, and sank back through the floorboards to continue her dead little tea party. I, trusting in the powerful ward Larin had placed around my room, continued to research and take notes on Aeldrin's whereabouts and activities.
My work took me long into the night.
Just great.
Just. Frickin'. Peachy.
I shut off my laptop and ceased my mental searching; I put an abrupt halt to any action of mine that was conspicuous; I strengthened my personal wards and masked my angelic aura. The fact that there was a party of dead folks in my house was moderately suspicious, but given that Larin and her people had been "living" here for many decades, I doubted Chaos would pay attention for much longer.
I waited.
I waited in vain.
I couldn't just keep sitting there. While angels ARE designed with infinite patience, it simply wouldn't be practical. I had to find a way to keep Chaos from finding out about my actions, it would simply not be practical to have the god knowing that I was tagging one of his most powerful warriors.
But. how do you hide from a god?
It should be possible. Nearly anything is possible for a fifth dimensional creature residing in the third dimension, if they know how to make it happen. I wished at that moment I had paid more attention to the defensive magic portion of my field training.
It was time to consult the resident witch. "Larin!" I called. "Larin, would you please come here?"
She rose up through the floor, startling me. "Yes, Milady?"
"How do you hide from a god?"
Larin screwed up her face at me. "Well, you start by not saying stupid things like that. Now he knows you know."
"I already know that he knows that I know that he knew that I.know. wait, what?"
Rolling her eyes, the witch gestured for me to sit on the floor. "Hush yourself, Angel. Did you pay attention at all during field training?"
"That depends on what you mean by...."
"Using the techniques to throw pencils at your neighbors does NOT count."
"....not much then."
Larin sighed and twisted her beautifully translucent hands into the air, tracing symbols out of nothingness that left a fiery after-image in my eyes. She whispered words of power, invoking forces as old as Angels. I felt her touch the fragile threads of reality and reorganize them at her will. I doubt I will ever see another mortal, living or dead, with as much power and skill as Larin.
"Listen." She said, her voice taking on the firm tone of a teacher. "Third dimensional magic is all about patterns. Miracle energy doesn't work as well here without an extremely direct link to God Himself. What humans perceive as 'magic' is really just breaking and binding the lines and threads and segments that hold the universe together."
She paused, drawing a circle of green fire in the air. "Normal humans cannot see the weave, the threads are invisible to mortals until after death. Some, like myself, were born with the ability to break and bind. The more volatile arts, chaos magic and miracle energy, break the strands then cauterize them, leaving a lasting scar on the fabric of space-time. Order magic can reweave it, but that's still deforming. Magic is the safest way to get anything paranormal done in this dimension."
The witch was silent, and I watched her draw symbols inside her green-fire circle. I felt the power of these symbols, the power of the things they named and unnamed.
Then it was over. The spell was cast, and it was good.
"That was impressive." I said, though those words felt rather weak after her display.
"It ought to be." Larin stood again. "I've practiced magic for over seven hundred years, Angel Neruthael, and this is an old spell. There are newer versions, but they involve computers and I don't trust those things."
I lifted an eyebrow. If I knew anything about human society, it would involve computers. "Where would one go to learn these so-called spells?"
Larin laughed. "To be honest, I don't know. There used to be a school of magic, but I think it's been torn down. There are a couple mortals who can see and feel the weave, but most can't do anything with it. Probably should ask one of your contacts. You have a Summoning permit, right?"
"Wouldn't leave Heaven without it."
"Good call. So summon someone who'd know. Shillradai, maybe. Or Taik. Or even Jerrick."
I nodded. "I'm thinking Torque, myself."
"Don't know him."
"He's not one of ours, technically. Technology demon. He's the one who caused the first Blue Screen of Death."
Larin looked skeptical. "How do you know he's trustworthy? Demons aren't usually trustworthy creatures."
I grinned at her. "Trust me. I've used Torque before. He's not exactly trustworthy, but he's a terrible liar. Turns bright yellow when he tries to."
"Chameleon or shape shifter?"
"Neither. Just a lizard that can type."
The ghost-witch nodded to me, though it was obvious she doubted my ability to get Torque to tell me the truth, and sank back through the floorboards to continue her dead little tea party. I, trusting in the powerful ward Larin had placed around my room, continued to research and take notes on Aeldrin's whereabouts and activities.
My work took me long into the night.