mallory_story

Mallory was no stranger to the other side of the coin, a world different to the one you thought you knew. He had walked in the shadows of that world for a long time now, so long that his memories of before had faded into the light he no longer saw. Even though they came to him, the people who needed help, they never touched his world. He would always shelter them from it, let them walk serenely back to where they came from.
Then there was the vision, and the head ghost of Amy and the people that needed help and the people that walked away. Mallory watched the world change again and no matter how much some of these people wanted to walk back to the light they couldn’t. Suddenly the world became more violent and all he could do is try and make sure they didn’t fall too far.

Some faded memories had returned earlier that day, people that walked away, that asked him to never see them again. Mallory had forgotten about them, that was their wish. He didn’t begrudge them their choice, he didn’t care that they were aggressively confrontational with him when they left, it was just like ending a relationship, trying to make a clean break. That he understood.
Whoever they were now they weren’t the same as when they left, they were strangers asking too many questions, trying to offer help without having anything to offer. They didn’t need his help then, they didn’t need it now and he didn’t need anything from them. He certainly didn’t need to answer their questions, not when he had just wanted a quiet drink with some of the others, a peaceful break from the violence.

Mal finished painting the number ‘eleven’ on his chest, back and forearms in roman numerals, buttoned up his shirt and pulled his jacket back on. He sifted through a deck of Tarot cards to find strength, which he tucked up his sleeve. He left the remaining cards wrapped in silk, hidden behind a loose brick in an alley no one could find. He closed his eyes for a moment, and readied his poker face, before leaving the alley.

Mal had spent most of his day watching Caleb, not letting him out of his sight, and Caleb had tried most of the day to get away from him, but Mal wouldn’t let him, not after the stunt with the athame.
That had meant that Mal had to walk around town and check up on Caleb’s bins, to make sure they were safe. He had walked around the streets like this before, the homeless were often a good source of information, segregated from bureaucratic society as they were, they saw things that others did not. This time it was different, he walked in Caleb’s world, the stench of filthy clothes, the search for rotten food, the clatter of empty bottles and the moaning mumbled nightmare of homeless street life. It wasn’t anything Mal could do something about, this was what these people had chosen for one reason or another, but it didn’t make walking there any less sickening.

He reached the top of the stairs and the bouncer pulled up a card for Mal to guess. A simple game that Mal cheated so very often.
“Eleven,” he said this time and the bouncer looked at the card and shook hi hand to Mal who had started to walk past.
“Look again.”
The bouncer looked again and then smiled, “are you trying to piss me off?”
Mal laughed and replied, “no way, pissing you off would be giving you a tip.”
The bouncer pulled the card back into his deck and started shuffling as Mal walked into Midnite’s
One bluff down, two to go.

After the despair of homeless street life Mal took Caleb for a drink at bodega, that quiet drink Mal had missed out on earlier. He knew he should be heading over to the library to help Kayla with some research but he also knew she had to figure it out on her own.
Beth still seemed prickly after the conversation earlier that day and Caleb kept trying to walk away even though Kayla and Mal had given him ‘hospitality’ and a place to stay for a while. Later Jason showed up and no matter how many ways Mal tried to say it, he just didn’t get the fact that trying to find the real owners of the Brooklyn castle was a really bad idea.
The quiet drink became very busy. He had been thinking of heading off to the library after all when Kayla showed up looking seriously freaked. She had managed to read the pages that Mal had procured for her, which was good, except for the fact that she fell into a demon dream realm where demons tried to converse with her, teach her what she wanted to know. She had refused for now but Mal knew demons and knew they would try again. That hadn’t been part of the deal.
After a shot of whiskey Mal left Caleb in Kayla and Jason’s care. He had a demon he wanted to chat with. A guy named Bob.

As Mallory approached the bar he wondered if he could leverage something from the demon Bob in exchange for the meeting. He was already playing the strength card but he could insinuate that Kayla was his protégé perhaps and that Bob stepped beyond his bounds. Maybe one of the books in the Bob’s library could be useful, especially if it wasn’t infernal in origin. His primary reason for coming was to tell Bob that he’d had his chance, that Kayla had said no, but Mal was used to gambling a little.
“What’re having tonight Mal?” Midnite had shuffled down the bar when Mal arrived.
“Might need something different tonight,” Mal said, “got a guy named Bob I want to have a chat with.”

It didn’t usually take this long for Mallory to find someone, especially when he knew so much about them, but it seemed that Caleb Books did not want to be found. Mal had been looking for a couple of days, getting started pretty early this morning hoping to find the homeless bum half asleep on the street somewhere in one of his usual hangouts. He hadn’t had any luck and was idling walking through the Wellington streets as the chill autumn sun started its descent.
Mal lit up a cigarette, wished for a drink, and then looked up to see him running across a rooftop, looking like he was being chased. Mal thought it was nice to know he wasn’t hiding from him in particular.
Caleb reached the edge of the building, looked back and then down. Mal knew he was weighing his options and started walking toward the three story building fully expecting Caleb to jump and completely unsurprised when he did, though Mal didn’t expect the cavalier type swing from the hanging banner as Caleb disappeared into a second story flat.
Then the man that chased him appeared on the rooftop, the familiar tattoos on dark skin with a baldhead that had heralded so many problems for Mallory in the past month.
The man he called Skin.
Like Caleb Skin jumped from the roof, landing on the balcony of the second story. Mal gave him a whistle, trying to get his attention, and buy Caleb some time. Skin did look, but not for long before disappearing into the building.
Mal made a beeline for the exit he expected Caleb to come out of and just as he arrived the homeless man surged forth and past him, running in the direction of Lambton Quay.
Skin came out not soon after and again Mal’s attempt to engage him met with failure. Skin had little to say to him, treating him more with contempt than anything else. As pursuer and pursued disappeared into the crowds Mal found a nearby pay phone, tapped the lever a couple of times, and dialled Jason.
The conversation was pretty brief, Jason was just getting up, and Mal was trying to explain that Caleb was heading his way and needed some help from the tattooed man. Mainly Mal was trying to warn Jason, though maybe, hopefully, he would have more luck than him helping Caleb.
Not one to run or dash around like a mad thing Mal headed for the waterfront, Te Papa and the inlet was closest so he swung down Tori St. Past the museum a thick mist was rolling in from the sea.
Without a phone number for Dolph the water was the only way Mal knew of actually getting hold of him, and he figured that Dolph was probably the only one that could truly help Caleb in a hurry anyway.
Mal figured to leave a calling card in the water, something that might reach Dolph’s waterborne friends, and was flicking through the deck of cards in his pocket when he saw a car park across the street in front of them. Beth, Frankie and Dolph all hopped out just as Mal pulled the King and Eight of Hearts from his pocket. A good-natured man with water signs predominating his chart will be invited to a party. Mal smiled and slid the cards back into his pocket.
Beth had noticed Mal and called out to him as he crossed the street between the stalled traffic, the thickly rising fog had backed the already busy streets up further. When he arrived they asked ‘what’s up’ and he quickly explained the situation with Caleb and Skin.
The mist had covered over them, thickening into a heavy sea fog. Mal could barely see to the other side of the car as Frankie stared into the mist. Obviously she had learned something because she saw something, a pattern perhaps, that led her toward wherever Caleb was. Beth and Dolph rushed after her, disappearing quickly as the fog enveloped them.
As Mal walked the ground underfoot changed from the Te Papa courtyard to a grassy field. The stench of death led Mal now. He went to suck on his cigarette to take the taste of decay away and instead found he was holing onto the chain of an incense burner. His clothes had changed too, a long dark robe covering him instead of his usual brown jacket. The field was covered in bodies, peasants, warriors, and knights lay strewn in a tangled mass. Mal carefully negotiated his way across the battlefield, the only remaining survivor of a recently fought battle. In the distance he could still hear the faint sounds of steel on steel as the last remnants battled on the bridge.
The stonework reared up in front of him, and the fog parted as Mal set foot on the bridge just in time to see Skin, dressed as a dark knight, disappear once again down the plughole. Everyone else seemed to be wearing some form of medieval attire and Mal could only assume that it was Caleb’s doing, and that whatever magic Caleb was doing made Skin weaker, this was the second time he had run away.
Mal approached as the mist started to fade and people’s clothed returned to normal. Everyone was there, drawn to Caleb and whatever battle he had started with the tattooed man.
The reason became clear soon enough, Skin’s athame was in Caleb’s hands and he muttered something about the queen wanting him to look after it, about possibly getting Kayla to destroy it. If they weren’t going to give it back, which Mal thought would have been the safest thing for Caleb to do before all this started, then destroying it was probably the best idea. He figured Skin would come back for it soon enough and if they set it up right they might be able to trap him, deal with him for good.
Mal was halfway through explaining this idea as people picked themselves up after the struggle when a couple of uninvited guests appeared at the end of the bridge. There was silence, stillness in the air, Mal looked blankly at Damien and then Beth, walking in the other direction, asked him if he wanted a drink. He nodded, turning away from Joy and Gabe to grab Caleb and walk along with Beth.
They didn’t need his help anyway.

He was back there again, having talked things over with Kayla, discussed the options. The bar was covered in a milky haze. Smoke streamed from cigarettes, pipes and even the occasional cindering flesh. The faces were the same but tonight the attitude was different. Conversationally desperate, like something was going on deep below, the whole place was anxious, waiting for what was to come.
Mal found an isolated booth, lighting his own cigarette, taking in his own fresh air. With all the tension and darkened emotion in the air Mal was weary to breathe in any of the smoke filtering through the room.
He was joined shortly by a short man in a black suit, hair immaculately groomed, skin incredibly smooth. Mal didn’t like this go between much, too much effort was put into a soothing voice and commanding posture, but this was the guy that Midnite had set him up with. He hadn’t wanted to trouble Gorgon with this, preferring to get closer to the source so he had arranged a meet through Midnite.
“Sooo,” the word slid smoothly from the man’s mouth. It would have made most men shudder. Mal showed no reaction. “I trust you have come to a decision then.”
“If you have what I am looking for?”
The man pulled a long cylindrical leather case from his briefcase on the floor and placed it on the table. Mal took the case and opened it, unrolling the parchment inside. Foreign letters and symbols danced across the page, settling slightly as Mal fixed his gaze on them. Mal couldn’t read the words but that didn’t matter to much, the purpose was to help Kayla open her mind up to learning, to give her a working spell and an object so she could learn how to infuse objects with power.
After closing the case Mal nodded to the man across from him, taking another drag on his cigarette.
“So what will it be,” again the words oozed forth, “the blood or the name.”
“Her name is Kayla Neill.” They had decided that even if she started doing this kind of magic then they would figure out who she was anyway. This was a cheaper price to pay than a phial of either of their blood.
“Thank you,” the man nodded, “a pleasure doing business with you.”
Mal just nodded in return as the man got up to leave. He turned the case over in his hands, finishing his cigarette before leaving, the whispers of trouble, danger and change, reaching his ears as he left the bar.

Mallory threw down the last of his cigarette, stamping it out on the ground before walking out of the shadows and up to the door. He had hoped he had stayed hidden from her. He didn't want her to know how long he’d been standing there. It had been a few hours after all, at first waiting for Jason to finally leave, and then not wanting to arrive so soon after he did.
The house seemed out of place in Wellington, and as he approached he had that faint sense of stepping through a barrier into another world. In front of him stood a two story colonial house, with a balcony that encircled the entire building. In each front corner was a small round-roofed tower, impractical folly’s, mostly left grimy, unused. Though the tower to the right seemed in better condition.
Birds of different varieties perched on the ridges of the roof and towers. The peak of the right tower in particular seemed the home to many. He could feel them staring at him, regarding him, as he approached.
Mallory made his way through the iron wrought gate and up the cobbled path to her place. Madame Fanshaw, the seer, the diviner. She had looked into the paths of the others only a few days ago and while Mal saw no need for his path to become clear, he still had some questions he hoped she could answer.
Uneasiness settled on him as he crossed the front porch. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, but there was something about the mystery surrounding this woman and the fact that she might see parts of him he wanted to keep hidden, or that he didn't even know yet himself, that made him feel slightly afraid. He adjusted the mirrors he had previously arranged in his pockets, made sure they were all facing out, buttoned his jacket so that at least one of them covered his heart.
Then he knocked.
The noise from behind the door, as someone approached, was drowned out by the mewing of cats. As the door opened the cats extruded from the crack and settled around Mal as if to prevent him from leaving. The watchdog of the trio was a muscled tomcat with a scarred nose and milky eye. Disdainfully it sat behind Mal, it’s one good eye never leaving the strange man at the door.
Mal’s attention shifted back to the door as a tall thin woman emerged in the framed light.
“Took you long enough to get up the gumption to knock on my door, young man,” she said, and Mal wondered just how long the cats had been watching him. “Don’t look so surprised, this is my land. It tells me when there are strangers on it, even ones as shrouded in darkness and light as you are.”
This really wasn’t going the way that Mal had hoped, normally he would have spoken by now, let some of his charm wash onto her, but this woman had no need, or time, for charm.
“Anyway, come in, would you like a cup of tea?” She asked, “or is whiskey more to your liking?”
“I’ll drink most things,” Mal was glad for the chance to speak, “don’t care too much what, but a good whiskey is always a nice way to start, and then perhaps some tea.”
He followed her into the house as she closed the door behind him, wondering if the protection he wore was pointless. She probably already knows more about him than he does. Still, he wonders, best to act cool and pretend, like always, that he’s still in control.
“Come this way, then. Mind the cats”
She leads him down the hall and into a small Victorian drawing room, filled with cats of all shapes and sizes.
“Nice place.”
“Please, be seated” she says, indicating a divan which is amazingly free of cats.
Then she walks to a huge antique sideboard, pulling a bottle of whiskey from one of many cupboards. Mallory notices the bottle is nothing like modern whiskey bottles, the label reads “James Martin's - Fine & Rare”. She pours a glass and offers it to Mallory, who continues to explore the room with his eyes, wondering if he has indeed fallen backward in time.
“You know, when this drop was laid down, they would have been scandalized at the mere idea of a lady giving a man she did not know whiskey in this manner.”
“Times sure have changed.” Mal is somewhat relieved that time has in fact changed, and somewhat disappointed he asked for a tea to follow up the James Martin.
She glides back across the room and sits herself down on a high-backed ottoman, the large marmalade cat resting there scooting off the seat as she does. Once she is seated Mal takes his seat, the polite gentleman.
“Now, perhaps you will do me the courtesy of stating your name and business?”
“My name is Mallory Williams,” he answers, “and I wanted to ask a couple of questions of you, if it is not too much trouble?”
“That depends on the questions, Mr. Williams, and whether you’re asking for yourself or for another.”
“Well I’m asking myself if that makes any difference, but the questions aren’t about me or anyone in particular, they’re about a place. A crystal formation.” Mal describes the cave that he found, ten thousand crystal fragments like the inside of a amethyst shell, strange refracted moving light, and the two creatures determined to keep them out. “Have you heard of anything like this?”
“Yes. I even know the particular place of which you speak. It is a source of great power, and…” she added unnecessarily, “Power corrupts.”
Unsure if the comment is directed at him specifically or not, Mal kept quiet and listened further.
“Let me first say that I would not normally give to one such as yourself the following information, but I see that you have taken it upon yourself to shepherd the lost ones whom Dolph sent to me recently. Their patterns are on you. Thus, I will answer to you for them.
“The crystal cave is an icon that appears often in Arthurian fiction, and it does so for a reason. The crystals you saw are what the Hermetic Orders call ‘tass’, a pure power that has seeped into the rock and crystallized into physical form. A properly trained mage can convert that crystal to objects of power or release it to power their spells.”
She drew a crystal, attached to a cord, from around her neck, easily recognizable as a crystal from the cave. Mallory leaned forward to inspect the crystal as Miss Fanshaw continued.
“This is a piece my elder sister bequeathed to me when she passed on.”
Mal nodded in recognition, taking a sip of the scotch and retaking his seat.
“That explains what it is but what you need to know how it got there,” she continued. “The nodule of tass formed in that way around a well of power, sometimes referred to as a ‘shallowing’, a ‘soft place’, or a ‘node’. The local Maori would call it ‘waihi tapu’. The ferals, like Dolph, refer to such things as ‘caerns’.
“The guardians you mention are probably human but they have lived continually in a presence that even the non-awakened can tap into. Their own dreams and desires will have become reality for them.
“I probably do not need to tell you that such places are rare, that mages covet and fight over them. That is one of the reasons why, even though I know of it, I have not attempted to use it. It would surely corrupt me and its last owner has already paid a high price.”
As she spoke something seemed to take over Miss Fanshaw, her eyes became black pinpoints, she clutched the crystal so tightly that blood dripped from her hand, and her voice reverberated like an echo through the small room.
“I must warn you that the man called Caleb Books who visited me along with the lost ones should be watched,” she continued, trancelike. “He is tied to the node and through it he can either save or destroy. His will is guided by a foreign vision that does not sit well on this green land, and he denies that he acts. I would say that it would be best to keep him from that place forever, but the Tarot tells me that path may lead to disaster. It may be that he needs to return to where he was broken in order to regain what he has lost.”
Breathless she slumped forward in her seat releasing the crystal. Mal watched as she took deep breaths, trying to compose herself. When her eyes finally reopened and she sat back she seemed confused, momentarily, as if she didn’t know what she had said.
She looked suspiciously at Mallory as she wrapped a filly handkerchief around her hand.
“There are other things I want to ask given the information that you just told me,” he finally spoke when she was ready, “but I’m not sure you would answer me.” He considered her words, her breathing and her suspicion. “You did not want to tell me what you just have, did you?”
“No, I did not,” she said. “At least, not the last. I don't like talking speculation or prophecy. It can affect outcomes.” Accusatory she continued, “What did you do?”
“I have done nothing to affect what you would tell me. That was not my purpose in coming here.”
Miss Fanshaw still seemed wary, but she said, “At least nothing you are conscious of anyway. You at least speak the truth.” Lifting her hand to her chin she looked out the window briefly. “You said you had further questions?”
Mallory sat back and tipped back his glass, letting the James Martin swirl in his mouth. He did have questions, many of them, yet all of the questions he had when he first arrived seemed clumsy, unwieldy. He did not know how to ask them, or even if he should.
Instead.
“The man, Caleb Books,” Mallory started, “you seem to have some fear of him, of the things he does. He does not believe he is doing anything and yet things seem to happen and change around him.
“I ask because he knows us, he gives us names and titles in his world, and he can see us like chess pieces on a board, laid out across the city. Chess is a simulation of battle, it is not something I want, and I wonder how much of it is his influence.
“There are things that I need to be talking to him about, but I need to understand him better. I want to decipher his code, I need to know what danger he thrusts upon us.”
Miss Fanshaw stroked the huge milky-eyed cat next to her, “It’s alright, Zhukov, stand down,” and her soothing voice relaxed the cat who rests his head in Miss Fanshaw’s lap. Zhukov’s milky gaze however, remained fixed on Mallory, and the other cats around the room remain alert and attentive, their claws once again sheathed.
For Mallory it was odd, he hadn't thought he’d been focusing so tightly on Miss Fanshaw that he wouldn’t notice the threatening posture of the cats, but it seemed that was what had happened.
“Mr. Books story is one of pride and power,” Miss Fanshaw continued, “I cannot tell you all of it, because I do not know all of it. Part of the reason for this is because he was one of those whom we consider enemies, the Order of Reason. Thus much of his life is hidden from me. All I can say is that he once led their operation here.
“New Zealand was once considered a perfect place to test their policies, small and isolated in case anything went wrong, a new state with a young innovative people focussed on change but accepting of tradition and order.
“He attempted to bring about the utopia of Erewhon here in New Zealand, and was defeated, in part by the Order themselves, because they did not agree with his methods. They tried to bring him back to their way of thinking but they discovered his mind was too far-gone. A mercy killing was considered, but whenever they tried to kill him things would go wrong. They would fail. Finally, after a particularly messy attempt, one of the Order realized that he seemed relatively harmless when not threatened, so they placed him in a local mental institute, controlled by Thorazine and left him there like so many others.
“Then in the eighties and nineties came the mental health reforms that saw him released. I can only assume the Order had forgotten about him when they let the reforms through, though since that time he has displayed no magical powers despite becoming quite well known on the street.
“Recently of course, with the event that drew you together, he has begun to show power again. Since seeing him, I sense that he is acting to preserve the city, or at least his vision of the city, not what the city is now.
“The Tarot is undecided as to whether he is a threat or a saviour, his card is the Fool, and can represent the Great Fool, Dalua of the Celts, salvation and saviour. Equally it can represent the Mother of Letters, the vulture and spiral creation, the Devil.
“This is why I did not wish to say anything yet, as I do not know whether he is Saviour or Devil. I have a fear of him, a foreboding in my heart. His power is great and is controlled by a mind easily influenced. For some reason I found I had to tell you this, whether it is something about you, or some higher power acting through one of us I do not know.
“The young ones that foolishly name themselves after one of the Great Beasts speak of information wanting to be free. Perhaps this is true.”
Perhaps, Mallory thought to himself as he consumed the information given to him. It was not what he had come here for but he had a sense it was far more valuable.
“I thank you for letting this information go then. I won’t trouble you further, your friends don’t seem to like my questions very much,” he smiled as he said it, throwing back the last of the drink. “Thanks for the James Martin, I don’t think I’ve tasted anything quite like. Perhaps another time for the tea though.”
“Yes,” she said as she stood, “another time.”
Mallory stood and watched as Miss Fanshaw crossed the room, leading him quickly and carefully from her home.

Thursday night was pumping at Bodega, a live act had just left the stage and better than usual bar music was playing through the sound system. Beth was the first one Mal noticed when he walked in the door, she seemed different, more alive, and when he approached the bar she slid his usual over to him.
The others were there, Kayla and Caleb, Frankie was with her friends in a corner, and Dolph too, talking with Beth. He knew they would be there, they had just seen the diviner, the witch, the one that would tell them who they should be. Mal knew it wasn’t that simple, he hadn’t bothered to go, what would she tell him anyway. But these people had needed something, some kind of explanation, one that Mal couldn’t give.
Mal downed the whiskey and Kayla was talking to him, asking him for the sphere. She wanted to make one, or study it or something. Apparently she was a magic blacksmith or something. Mal didn’t need it anyway, as long as one of them had it when they were all together that would do, and Kayla, weirdly he felt like trusting, her and Beth both. They both handled that first night very differently, but now they seemed better for it.
He handed over the sphere and explained what it was, hopefully that would help Kayla replicate it, though Mal was unsure about the spell inside. He offered to try and find some text for it, though he assumed it would be in some infernal language, which would probably need some translation.
Mostly Mal just wanted to check up on them, grab a drink and enjoy their company, something he hadn’t had in a long time.
Caleb had disappeared pretty fast, before Mal had the chance to ask him about the Castle, Camelot as he called it, but they organised a time to visit anyway. There was some excuse for the tour but Mal didn’t care that much about that. He just wanted to see what it was that Caleb saw there, something to help him piece together the enigma of Caleb’s mind.

The hosts had been overly friendly and often scary, throwbacks from the horror of eighties that Mal really didn't want to live through again, with their dressed to impress, more dominant than you attire. They had directed the tour through the rooms they wanted to show, which to Mallory’s mind was far away from anything remotely interesting - especially as he wanted to discover clues related to Caleb. As Jason and Kayla continued their charade for visiting Mal took the opportunity to slip away.
It hadn’t been too hard, though doing so meant Mal was once again alone and looking for somewhere that he didn’t know yet. He continued to wander until he found an inviting alcove, which led to a locked door. Locked suggested something interesting so he picked the locked and found himself in the wine cellar.
There had been some weird sort of pressure as he approached the castle and he could feel it again from the end of the room, possibly some kind of airflow though given Caleb’s take on this place Mal wouldn’t have been surprised if it was something else.
At the end of the wine cellar Mal looked around until he found a trap door, no lock this time. He hoisted it up and found himself looking at the inside of a gigantic amethyst rock, or something similar - a crystal cavern.
He could feel a low hum of energy in there, something potentially dangerous, though he ventured forth anyway. Euphoria overtook him as he entered, a bright light appearing behind him, refracting off the thousand glittering crystals. He turned to take it all in, the light moving as he turned, dancing across the cavern. He could feel something surging through him and over his shoulder light was glaring out of back in shafts. The moment cut short by the closing of the door and the shouting of his name. It was Beth, and he could hear her clear as day through the thick wooden door.
“I’m okay he shouted back,” and after thinking about it some more, “can someone pass me down the sphere?”
There was some kind of argument or scuffle happening upstairs with the tour guides, Mal didn’t care and the intricacies of it were lost on him. Eventually the door opened for a moment and the sphere was lobbed down. When it landed in his hands it was malleable, like plastercine or blue tack.
“Kayla could you come down here?” He didn’t care for what was happening upstairs, this room was full of some kind of power, some kind of knowledge. Many of the answers they sought were in here, he could feel it, and questions too, more questions.
He was lost in the moment again until finally Kayla was shoved down the ladder, he could see that she felt it too though she had no shafts of light emanating from her. He handed her the sphere without words, she discovered what he had and after some time started pulling it apart, separating it evenly, perfectly, into eight separate parts, one for each of them.
The voices above became more irritated and Mal knew they had to leave though he didn’t want to. There were things to explore, answers to seek. Normally he could have dealt with the odd couple, made a deal, or at least conversed, his gift had gone for the moment, lost in their hostility and his euphoria. He couldn’t deal with them now, he would have to come back when he had come down, when he didn’t feel so drunk.
They were ushered quickly from the castle, Mal heard Caleb mention something about Merlin’s Room and the fact that their names were engraved in the table.
It didn’t matter right now, just another piece of the puzzle, one they would need to solve when they returned.

It wasn’t unusual for Mal to meet someone in a dark alley late a night, even the fact that this guy had horns a mystic tattoos if you looked at him the right way wasn’t new for Mal, he had lived in the world in between for a long time now. His life before he had virtually forgotten, his memories drifting in the mists of time.
Mal had dealt with Gorgon before - he was good at getting stuff made, magical stuff. The item Mal wanted this time was something to cloak the shiny aura he seemed to be giving off lately, something that could help shield them all if they ever gathered again. It was thing for someone like Dolph to show up uninvited to one of their little gathering, it would be another entirely if Skin or any of the other bad-asses out there Dolph mentioned were to drop in uninvited.
Gorgon pulled a black box from his backpack, no obvious locks or latches. He smiled as Mal looked at this thing with interest.
“Tis like a Chinese puzzle box, ‘cept it ain’t made by the Chinese if yer get my meaning. Keep anything locked up tight, better than a briefcase.”
Mal just nodded, he had nothing really left to hide. He had hid everything he owned, everything he was, away when he walked into this world. It was safer that way.
“If you ever need something like this, you know where to ask,” Gorgon suggested as he finished the rest of the puzzle. The box flipped open and revealed a small black sphere with a faint wisp of something like firelight flickering through it.
“Now this is the finest hell rock I could find, should have plenty of shadows to mask that shiny ye be putting out. I also got a geomancer to mould some magic in there so it should do a pretty good job of cloaking you and whatever else you need cloaked from the aware. Not gonna make you invisible of course, but it should mask any psychic impression ye leave around the place.”
Mal nodded, happily. “Sounds like what I was looking for.”
“Yeah sorry we couldn’t make a bunch of smaller ones for you like what you wanted, but it took the better part of two weeks for the enchantments on this thing.”
“I think it should do the trick.”
“Well if you have any problems, you know how to get hold of me.”
Mal nodded again as Gorgon handed him the sphere. It was warm to the touch and Mal quickly shifted it to his pocket.
“So about the payment.”
“Yeah, go to this place,” Mal handed him a piece of paper with a street address, “just tell him Mallory sent you.”
“This guy owe you does he?”
“Not after tonight.”
“I see. Well you take care Mal. Winters coming up, you shouldn’t spend so much time in the streets.”
Mal laughed, he had known Gorgon for quite some time now, pretty friendly guy if you treated him right.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
Gorgon nodded as he puzzled the box back together. Mal was almost out of the alley when Gorgon called back to him, “What’s the name of the guy.”
Mallory smiled as he called back, it was nice to get something for nothing.
“Dae Fu.”

Mallory lit another cigarette as he surveyed his hand - a couple of threes, highest card a ten. Not a hand one would normally stay in on but Mal had already lost all his cash and the gun he procured last night by folding away all his hands. To even ante up for this round Mal had to throw in his pack of cigarettes, making sure of course to put one in his mouth before he threw the pack in the kitty.
Already tonight he had thrown away a full house, Aces and eights, and a suited Jack high straight, the last to lose the gun which he had offered up as collateral. He had wanted to lose of course, in part to rack up some good fortune by losing when you should win, but mostly to get rid of the gun.
Mal probably could have hocked it off on the street but he wasn’t a dealer and the weapon came with some serious baggage - Mal already owed Midnite a minor favour for getting it in the first place. The gun itself was top rate, packaged up in a collectable box and with six individually marked up bullets, a collectors dream. Mal wasn’t a collector either. He didn’t really like guns that much at all. Sure they served a purpose in providing power and one day, Mal wondered, it might actually be necessary to actually have to fire one of the damn things. Mostly though he saw them as a police investigation waiting to happen, not something he was particularly interested in. When he picked up the gun last night he had needed it, now he didn’t, or at least he didn’t want to need it, and he didn’t want it. Better to lose it and invest in futures.
So that left him at a table with five other players, fifty bucks and a packet of smokes in the kitty and two threes in his hand. Time to start winning. As the others looked over their hands and either pitched in or folded Mal made his way to the small Korean proprietor of this out the back illegal gambling hall.
Dae Fu was in his late forties, smoking a cigar and looking out over some seriously gigantic seventies sunglasses. Mal had seen Asian kids around town and they had some serious style, but this guy and just about everyone over the age of thirty in his gang seemed to take a leaf out of the Sopranos. Of course just because they lacked in style didn’t mean they lacked in either power or brutality. This was one man you would never want to get into debt with. Mal was backing on his two threes to make sure that didn’t happen.
“Can I have a word,” Mal nodded as he spoke.
Dae Fu continued to suck on his cigar but gave Mal an indication he could continue.
“I’m going need some cash for this game,” Mal let that sit before continuing, that was the obvious part, “and I figure you’ll owe a small favour for taking some cash off your hands.”
“How so?” Now Dae Fu was interested, what Mal was asking was entirely backward.
“Well the way I see it is this, you float me the cash, with some sizable interest for just the night, like say ten percent, and you can make yourself a lot of money in a few short hours.”
“I’m already making money here tonight.” Dae Fu surveyed the tables.
“Yeah I can see that, but you ain’t making any money at our table, rules are rules.”
“So you think you’re hanging your neck out doing this favour me, breaking the rules, just so you can stay in the game?”
“Something like that.”
“And what if you lose?”
“Well in the event of that unfortunate occurrence I would owe you pretty big I suspect, probably have something over me for a while I suspect. Knowing your ways you could probably drag it out forever. That’s got to be worth a small favour, a hook up when I need it most.”
“Okay, let’s suppose it is. I give you twenty grand you return me twenty-five grand when the sun comes up.”
“I said ten percent, not twenty-five,” Mal didn’t mind the figure, he was pretty happy to have just negotiated a favour from Dae Fu.
The old man didn’t even bother to acknowledge Mal.
“Okay then, how about fifteen percent.”
Dae Fu looked over at the game, probably trying to calculate how much cash changed hands each round.
“Twenty.”
Mal nodded, he didn’t care that much about the money, he was more interested in the favour, but making a show of it was important, for both of them.
With the roll of cash that passed between the two of them Mal bought a drink and went back to his pair of threes, determined to win back his smokes and all the cash he had lost that night.