Chapter 7
I spent nearly 9 hours driving to the town of Clinton. They had notified me of the death of Phillip Masters, my only other full time worker, besides Vivian. He had been murdered.
I had been answering the questions of the local police, for some time. Then the questions started to get ugly. I pointed out to them that I had just driven 9 hours to get here. I was notified 10 hours ago, of his death. How then, could I be responsible for my employee's death?
They grudgingly admitted I had a good alibi, but still gave me a hard time. What is it about cops that cause them to want you to cower in fear of them? That is not the way it was supposed to be. I remembered the beat cops of the turn of the 20th century. They had been people friendly. Not like cops are, today.
I was once again at the Clinton Police Department, trying to get some information. I had given them all I knew, and they had clammed up on me. All I wanted to know, was where his body had been found. I had already identified him at the local morgue.
"Mr. Lindsy, I must admit your credentials check out. However, you should let us do our job. We will notify you when we have completed the investigation," Detective Mark Jefferson told me.
"All I am asking, is what were the circumstances of his death. I allready informed you what he was working on for me. It was nothing really that dangerous. Divorce case stuff," I said, a bit annoyed with this detective.
"I am sorry, but we can't comment on an on-going investigation. You should know that," he actually sneered at me.
I left the police station very unsatisfied and a bit angry at the town of Clinton. I made my way to the local library, and found the story in the local paper. Information was in the paper, that the police had refused to give me. I shook my head at that.
Not much there, really. Just that he had been found murdered, on the grounds of the old Clinton Mansion. Strange markings had been found on his body. That was new. When I had viewed the body, he had already been cleaned.
I got the name of the street, and the address of the Clinton Mansion from the paper. I would go to the scene of the crime. While the police were not to willing to give me what was apparently public information, the newspaper could always be counted on to be informative: Investigation 101.
20 minutes later I was at the chain locked gate of the Clinton Mansion. Why Phillip had come here, was unclear to me. I walked the perimeter of the wall. Yes, an actual wall. That took me another 25 minutes.
The wall was over 8 feet in height, and was relatively smooth, except for an old portion at the back of the property. I had kept a careful watch of the ground, as I circled the property. I noticed fresh scuffmarks, here at the older section of the wall.
The Mansion had not been lived in for the past 15 years, since the death of the last Clinton. The woman Phillip had been following, was not related to the Clinton's, as far as I knew.
I sighed, and climbed the wall. I paused at the top, and looked around. I looked down and saw deep depressions of where someone had landed heavily, when they had come over the wall.
I landed lightly. I started walking towards the Mansion proper, and stopped. I felt something. I looked with my 'second sight', and gasped. The whole place was spell upon spell upon spell!
It was an old old building. The paper said the last addition had been done in 1972. Other than that, it had remained virtually as originally built, over 100 years ago. I could not believe the spells I saw.
Firstly, none seemed to have been done by Markus. I looked carefully. I knew I hadn't done them. Markus had told me that there were others, here, that could work magic; but that they were few and far between. Apparently the people of this Mansion, were ones who worked magic.
I had run across people who did sympathetic magic in the past, and one guy who was a pretty good magician, stage and real. I caught his act in the 50's. His was a combination of real magic, coupled with showmanship.
I sifted through the spells I saw. Some were old protections, and were worn with time. Others were newer, and more deadly. I frowned. Still others were wards against the weather. Good spells, really. I would have to use them on my own home.
I walked around, and found the place where the police had found my partner's body. The area reeked of magic. I felt sick. Someone had killed him. They had used his life force to perform magic.
I was very angry, now. Who ever did this, didn't deserve to live as far as I was concerned. They held life very cheaply, to have done this to begin with. I saw the dark miasma of the spell, but could not make out what it was, or did.
Actually, I was seeing the echo of the spell, not the spell itself. Whoever did this, had already accomplished what they had wanted to accomplish. Life energy is a very powerful force. Markus had told me about this type of magic, but had not trained me in it.
The problem with this type of magic, is that if a trained person used it, it could perform a lot. Have you ever gone somewhere, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck? That was usually magic of the dark sort. If it was not focused properly, it left a... dark echo of itself.
Who ever had done this, had left an echo, but had been deliberate in doing so. People like satanists would do dark magic, trying to call up demons or the devil. Are they successful?
I doubt it. A good magic user would be able to focus the magic into the semblance of say, a demon, but a real demon? Unlikely. Magic takes shape from the users mind. If the caster is strong willed, and wants a demon, most likely the magic will take the form, straight from the casters mind.
Magic takes the form the caster wills it to assume. Thats what most people don't understand. That's why there are so many ghost stories, and curses. Someone, at sometime, used magic; knowingly or not, to create those beings and places.
Ghosts were just echo's of the casters self. They wore out and vanished after a time. Curses, being what they were, sometimes lingered on for a longer time. Whoever did this, was most deliberate in the action, and was a strong practitioner of magic.
I memorized the style. All magic had a 'signature style', as I have said before. This was unlike any I had come across, but I would recognize it in the future. I decided to try a tracking spell.
I gathered my thoughts and shaped them to my desire. I fed energy into my spell, via my ring. My spell touched the other spell, and they melded, briefly. Finally, it was complete, and I had my 'tracker'. A little ball of light (that could only be seen with 'second sight') hovered in the air before me.
I decided to give it a better form, and placed it on a finger on my hand, as a ring. I could feel a small tug in a specific direction. I now had a sort of bloodhound, which would track the caster of this spell, until I released my spell.
I looked the house over, and decided I would like to explore it, but at a later time. Right now I had a magic user to find, and deal with. I was not going to be gentle with him or her, either. A man who worked for me was dead, and I was going to know the reason why.
When I returned to my car, a Clinton city PD car was parked behind mine. As I approached my car, an officer got out and approached me.
"Mr. Lindsy?" He asked me.
"That's me. What can I do for you, Officer?"
"Might I ask what you're doing out here? This is private property, and it is also a crime scene," the officer said.
"I thought the crime scene was inside the gates, not here on the road," I said.
"Well, this is private property, and you're trespassing. You will have to move along," he replied in that no nonsense tone that all police officers pick up.
"Really? The last owner died, 15 years ago. No heirs. Who made the complaint against me?" I asked curiously.
"It's City property, Sir. The roadway up here is maintained by the city. A motorist reported a strange car sitting here. I understand your anger at the death of your friend, but you will have to leave this area. It is an 'Official Crime Scene', and it is also City property," the officer responded.
The guy was just doing his job. But it was still curious. My car had been parked out of sight of the main road, yet a 'passing motorist' saw it. Strange, indeed. I got in my car, and left. The cop followed me until I turned into the parking lot of a 'greasy spoon', and went inside.
What did I know of the practitioners of dark magic? Not much. They were usually secretive, and believed in the 'old style' idea of evil. They were not above using sexual energy to manipulate people. They also used other people's life force, to accomplish their own goals.
I ordered, ate, and contemplated. I decided I would have to do another few spells of protection. If I were going to be in a fight, it would be a fight for my life. I could not let this death go unanswered.
I needed to get some time with the body of Phillip. I didn't think they would allow me to examine his body, so it would have to be a covert move on my part. I finished eating, and went to the motel I had checked into, earlier that day.
After a quick check for bugs, I started in doing a few more spells. I wished I had brought my cloak with me. As it was, I got out my change of clothes, and started doing charms and spells on them. By the time I finished, the clothes I would be wearing tonight, were probably the safest clothes in the country.
I had charmed and spelled them to resist knife thrusts and cuts, bullets, fire, water, and I had placed general defense spells against harmful magic. I then placed a spell of concealment on them, to keep anyone with 'second sight' from noticing they were spelled to begin with.
I checked all my offensive spells, and added a few. I was ready. All that remained was to track down the murderer, and dispense a little justice. First though, I wanted to check Phillip's body. I found out the time that the morgue closed. Since it was a small town, it had an 'on call' crew, for night pick-ups. But, other than that, they closed at 6 PM.
At 7 PM I was entering the room where they kept the bodies. I opened the doors, and found Phillip. I pulled down the sheet and was sickened at the sight that greeted me. Someone had carved little glyphs all over his body.
I looked with my second sight, and saw that they had faint traces of power still in them. I quickly canceled them. As I cancelled them, I could have sworn I heard a sigh of thanks. I looked around quickly, but didn't see anyone. Still, the hair was standing up on the back of my neck and arms.
I finished, and went cautiously outside. A short time later, I was back in my car. I now allowed my tracker spell to activate. It pointed me in the direction I should go. For 15 minutes we turned, backtracked, and finally wound up at a house on the outskirts of town.
It was an expensive house. It was set back from the street, and had a small circular drive. It was two stories tall, with a privacy hedge in front of it. I looked at it with 'second sight'. It, too, had spells flaring all over it.
Breaking in was not going to be easy. As a matter of fact, it might
be best to get invited inside. Better yet, to confront the person away
from this house. Power radiated from this place, like nobody's
business. I sat in the car, and thought about the best way to do this.