joshuazelinsky

I woke up with a splitting headache and  I found myself trapped in a thaumaturgical circle. Jonathan’s two henchmages stood outside the circle, carefully looking at me. Of course, they were the ones who had ambushed me. 

Jonathan, his face now showing the signs of decay from his use of dark magic, was staring at a painting on the wall. I struggled to gather my wits about me and to be as quiet and not obviously awake as possible, but one of the henchmages, the dark-haired sorceress who I had encountered back in Madrid, must have noticed I was awake and alerted her boss.

“Ah excellent,” he said, and looked down at me. “Steven, do you know where we are?”

The painting on the wall looked familiar, and I struggled to place it. Then I got a sinking feeling as I recognized the painting which showed a strange landscape with an obelisk in the background. That painting was by Govaert Flinck, and was one any mage would recognize, and it meant we could be in only one location.  “The Gardner museum?” I said. As I struggled to my feet, both the henchmages (or were they henchsorcerers? I’m still not clear on the terminology) moved into spellcasting stances, but Jonathan waved them off, obviously confident that I was trapped in the circle. The most annoying thing was that his confidence was completely justified. 

As I winced, trying to ignore the bruises and splitting headache, Jonathan replied, “Why yes. We all thought that Isabella had left clues to the Orb of Transcendent Ectasty’s location here, and of course, everyone thought that the theft was an attempt by someone to secure the clues. But the Orb is hidden here; the thieves knew that. They just went after the wrong painting.”

“Jon, don’t” I pleaded. “It may be the Orb of Transcendent Ecstasy or of Ultimate Happiness, or whatever translation you prefer,  but Isabella Stewart Gardner hid it for good reason. It is an unpredictable, dangerous magical object. She was one of the most powerful mages of her generation, and she hid it rather than use it. It doesn’t make you happy as you necessarily understand the term. ”

Jonathan laughed. “You think I want it just to be happy? You still haven’t figured it out. There’s only one thing that would make me truly happy, and that isn’t the Orb. But the Orb will give me that thing.”

The seriousness of the situation entered my still recovering mind. Jonathan didn’t want the Orb for some abstract reason. He wanted the Orb because it would give him what he believed would make him truly happy; Baba Yaga’s Grimoire he had spent so many years obsessing over. And with it, he would be truly the most powerful warlock the world had ever seen, and the world would see it, both magical and mundane. And I was the only person possibly in a position to stop him.

“The Orb doesn’t work like that, you can’t…” but he cut me off. “You’ve spent years telling me what I can’t do, since we were children. Don’t you find it ironic? We played games together here in this very city, and you always won. But now you can’t make up any new rules. I win. Now and forever. Watch me.”

He reached his right hand over to the painting, even with all the magic I had seen, I have trouble describing what happened next. He did not so much reach into the painting, as the painting and its surrounding space twisted around his hand, and when he withdrew it, in his hand was  the most small nondescript metal sphere you could imagine, at least in the conventional visual spectrum. To my magesight, the Orb was almost blinding. 

Jonathan turned towards me holding the Orb out just outside the circle. I was barely able to see through the scintillating rainbow across my magesight. If the Orb’s aura caused Jonathan any discomfort, he hid it well. But the henchmages found it even worse than I did; their arcane discipline was not good enough that they would probably ever get upgraded to being a henchwarlock and henchwitch.   “Any last protests, Steven? Are you going to tell me that the Grimoire will be even more dangerous than the Orb?”

I shook my head. “I should say that but you didn’t listen to me a decade ago, you didn’t listen to me a minute ago. Why should I expect you to listen to me now?”

“So be it.” Jonathan closed his eyes, and I could sense the Orb interrogating his mind and soul. It hummed, screeched and its aura flared, and then subsided.. Jonathan opened his eyes, and at the same time the Orb’s aura diminished, still uncomfortable, but not nearly as bright, as if part of its power was spent.  The Orb clicked and opened. Inside appeared a small black object with a piece of paper wrapped around it. Jonathan took it out; it was an old-style flip phone. I knew that Baba Yaga’ Grimoire could take different forms, but that seemed ridiculous. Jonathan looked at the piece of paper, “Call your mother,” he read uncertainly from it. He glared at me, “Is this some sort of trick? A joke?” he demanded.

“I’m still stuck in the circle,” I reminded him. 

Jonathan looked down at the phone and punched a number in.

“He Mom, its me,” he began. “Yeah, I know I haven’t called in a while… I know you haven’t been well; Alex sends regular updates…  I’ve just been really busy… No mom, I still haven’t found the Grimoire, but I’m back here in Boston… Sure, I’d love to stop by.” And then without saying a word, Jonathan walked out of the room.

The henchsorcerer glanced at the henchsorceress. “Uh, what just happened?” She shrugged and turns towards me. “What’d you do to the boss?”

I shook my head, but was struggling not to laugh, or maybe struggling not to cry for my old friend.  “The Orb gives you whatever will make you truly happy. It decided Jonathan wouldn’t be happy with the Grimoire. But he did need to see his mom. I’m guessing she still makes some of the best chocolate chip cookies in the state.”

“So what do we do now?” asked the henchsorcerer.

“Well, uh, you could consider releasing me from this circle? Preferably before any mundanes show up and wonder what we’re doing here?”

“Take care of that,” said the henchsorceress as she walked off.

“Where are you going?” 

“To call my parents.”