Boy Sorceress Pt. 02

Edited by Over_Red

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I had just passed the werewolf that had nearly eaten me the night before. He had been browsing the stores on the promenade of the Springfield mall. I had managed to keep calm and get to my car without being spotted by the werewolf, although he had picked up my scent, scaring me shitless. Once behind the wheel of my Interceptor, I gunned it out of there.

As soon as I stopped at a red light a few blocks away, I punched the steering wheel in frustration. The cultists were here, the werewolf knew me by smell and my knee wasn't fixed. I was still partially disabled as myself. Ashley didn't have any problems with her knee, why didn't turning into her fix my actual knee, as well? Was it because it was a preexisting condition? Did magic follow the same guidelines as health insurance firms? That sucked the hairy big one.

The light turned green and I floored the pedal with my bum leg to make the mall disappear from my rear view mirror. I was alright, in the end. The knee hadn't given out, it was just tender. There was quite a lot of pain to be had before the knee would finally give out. I knew that from a year of experience with it. I'd be right as rain after I did some light physical therapy. I just had to remind myself to always wear my knee brace and to never again try to work through the pain. The knee was fucked and it would always be fucked, magic or no magic.

I wondered if I could use my power to heal, but I had enough experience with doctors and medicine to know better.

As I drove through the streets of Springfield, I realized I was lost. I hadn't taken the same route back and I didn't know the city well enough to get around. I shrugged and kept driving east. Riverside was to the northeast, I'd find my way there once I got to the edge of the city.

I spotted a sign in red neon letters on a black background. It read: Occult. If the werewolf was here in Springfield, and he definitely had a lot to do with magic, then it stood to reason that there might be some info about magic to be found in Springfield. I turned on my indicator.

Yes, heading off into the unknown was like grabbing ankles and asking the universe to ready its fist, but I felt like I had no alternative. I needed to know about the evil butchers. Staying at home and wading through every piece of fantasy ever created wouldn't teach me anything useful. I needed to know which magical system the butchers adhered to, if any. I needed to know exactly what they had done.

If this occult shop did turn out to be connected to the murderers, then the werewolf would smell my scent in it the next time he came calling. I didn't see anything wrong with that. Let him know I was there. Let him feel as afraid as I did. I was going to shake the tree and see what came loose.

Of course, the shop would most likely be a dead end, but I needed to know if it was. Even eliminating one possibility was progress.

Heading off the beaten path on a whim like this was not my usual modus operandi, but I was not going to waste time on trying to eliminate every possible risk. Now that I knew magic and monsters were real, the very idea of thorough preparation became laughable and antiquated. No, this situation required me to do stuff and play things by ear.

I circled the block looking for a parking space and then found myself walking into a new age occult shop. The front window was full of scented candles and various knick-knacks. Wind chimes hung from the ceiling. The middle of the store held some strange statues on lighted pedestals, almost like it was an art gallery, while the back half of the store was taken up by shelves of books.

I smiled at the woman behind the sales desk. I'd say she was about thirty. She had a pretty face with big, expressive eyes. Her short, rust-colored hair was swept to one side with gel, the way men used to wear it in the fifties, and I noted she had a very nice rack.

She stood a foot shorter than me and it was right there to see. If she didn't want me to look, maybe she shouldn't wear a bra and suit jacket combo. Maybe add a sweater, or T-shirt, into the mix? Her fingernails were completely trimmed. That made me grin.

I walked over to her and said, "Hello. I'm looking for some books on the interpretation of symbols."

She was not impressed. "We have many books on the interpretation of symbols," she said. "What form do these symbols have? Are they dream symbols?"

"Oh, no, no, no, they're, uh, they're drawn symbols."

"Drawn symbols?"

"Yes."

Her eyebrows rose as she looked at me like I was an idiot. "Drawn on what?"

"Um..." I was not going to tell this woman the truth. "I just need to understand what some symbols might mean. One of them is the ankh, and there's the ouroboros and the, uh, the yin-yang symbol...and the triquetra. And some others."

She barely held back from snorting at me. "Those are potent and meaningful symbols, but they hail from different traditions scattered over the four corners of the earth." She turned her back on me, dismissing me. "And their meanings can be found online."

I watched her as she started stocking the small shelf behind the counter with tiny bottles of lotions, extracts and bath supplies. "Please, Miss, I need your help."

"With what? Come up with a sensible question and I'll give you answers. Otherwise, stop wasting my time."

I looked around. The store was empty. "Well, can you at least recommend a book on symbols for me to read?"

"I don't think any book covers all those symbols." She turned to give me a look. "At least not any book that has the truth written in it." She returned to stocking her shelves. I sighed and slumped with disappointment. "Go to the third aisle and take the book with the yellow covers. It writes about the most basic symbols."

I went into the stacks and found the book. It contained information about many symbols, mostly astrological ones. I found the four I knew were on my flower, but the book gave only the most basic information about where the symbols had been used and what their meaning most likely is. This book wasn't going to explain anything magical to me. Particularly since I couldn't draw, or recognize, the rest of the symbols from memory. They were on the insides of the petals of the blue flower in my brain. If I wanted to draw them, I'd need to make the flower bloom and that meant turning into Ashley.

The woman appeared right in front of me as I lowered the book and I flinched. I hadn't heard her come over. "Young man, this is not a library. Either purchase the knowledge of that book, or I should like you to leave."

"Um, well, this isn't the kind of information I'm looking for."

"You have already opened that book and started absorbing the knowledge it has been inscribed with. You must purchase it now."

"Um..." I frowned and checked the price tag. My eyes went wide. I wasn't going to spend forty-three bucks on a lame book about symbols. "I'm not buying this book!"

Her pretty features drew down into a scowl. "Then leave!" She pointed imperiously at the front door.

I snorted. "I think I'd prefer to speak with your supervisor."

"This is my establishment. Now, get out!"

I stood there gaping at her in disbelief. What an asshole. I shook my head and shoved the book into her hands before leaving. I was having a really hard time just letting go of that woman's brash dismissal. Her store was empty, she should have been able to give me one minute of her time. And the way she had spoken about the books and insisted I buy that overpriced, yellow, children's book? Unforgivable.

I don't know if it was because I was still pumped from the werewolf near-miss just minutes ago, or what, but by the time I walked back to my car, I hadn't cooled off. Instead, I was determined to return to the store and find all the info I could ever want. I was going to scour each and every one of her precious books for information on the flower and its symbols. I was going to do it right in front of her and I was going to laugh at her if she complained.

I'd need to have the flower bloom first, so I could find the symbols. I wanted to go home, change into Ashley and draw the symbols while I could see them. I should probably do a Google image search for them, too. I should have done that before going back to the store, but the chesty chick had gotten my goat and I wasn't going to just drive off and leave things as they were.

I looked around before getting in my car. This entire city block was once some kind of warehouse, or factory. Half the storefronts were empty and there were no cameras to be seen. There was no one on the sidewalk. No one was looking my way. I slid lower in my seat, made the flower bloom and my clothes were loose around me. I then proceeded to get dressed in my freshly purchased clothes, using my Kevin clothes as a makeshift dressing room. The bra was a bit tricky, but I had seen how to put it on in the online tutorials.

Fully dressed, I opened the car door and bent down to tie my shoes. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it, or if the weather had turned for the worse, but I was starting to feel very cold. I put on another T-shirt under my zip-up sweater and hugged my sides. I guessed my fat, giant Kevin shape was just more resilient to the cold. It was also way stronger and could do whatever I wanted in that store. The owner could only screech at me impotently.

Well, I wasn't exactly powerless as Ashley. I could defeat gravity itself. I imagined the car door closing. Nothing happened at first but, as I pushed more of my willpower into it, the car door swung closed. I smiled. Reality was willing to bend to my will. How fucking cool was that? Feeling sure I could make whatever mess I wanted and get out of it, I jogged back to the store.

My fingers were almost trembling by the time I reached for the handle on the occult shop's door. When I entered, I involuntarily shuddered at how warm the place was. I felt myself blush as I strode past the owner. I didn't know if it was the warmth, or whatever.

I reached up and took the yellow book down from the shelf. I began paging through it, trying to match the symbols on my flower's petals to the stuff in the book. Finding the ankh and the rest of them had been easy, cause I knew their names and could look them up in the table of contents. The other twenty-four were going to require me to eyeball the entire book, page by page. I sighed. This was a waste of time. I really should have done an image search on them, if nothing else, then to get their names.

The shopkeeper again snuck up on me, only this time, her face was all smiles. I nearly flinched, all the same. "That must be a good book you're holding," she said, "people have been handling it all morning."

I came back looking for answers and mentally prepared myself for an incident, or a fight. Her friendly tone was completely throwing me off. "Um..."

She winked. "I'm kidding. That's a worthless glossary of symbolism. I only push it on wannabees and the annoying. May I ask if you're looking for something specific?"

May she ask?May she? Where the fuck had her evil twin gone? "Um..." She stepped closer and leaned against the book case. Despite the size of her store, she chose to invade my personal space. I stepped back and replaced the book on the shelf. "I'm looking for some information."

Her smile grew even warmer as she said, "I think I might be able to provide you with what you need."

"Uh, yeah." Well, fuck it, if she was feeling helpful, then I was going to ask for her help. Now, how does one get information without telling what it's really for? The only thing that I could come up with was that it was for a book. I spun a quick yarn. "I've got this assignment, uh, in my creative writing class. We were supposed to practice doing our research, cause a writer's supposed to know what he's writing about and, uh, I was given this set of, like, strange glyphs that I've got to investigate."

She nodded along with my explanation. "They."

I stared at her blankly.

"A writer is a they, not a he. A single male writer is a he, just as a single female writer is a she, but a writer is a they, in and of itself."

The fuck was that supposed to mean? Yes, I had said that a writer is supposed to know whathe is writing about, but that was neither here, nor there. "Yes, right."

"You just made an informative slip of the tongue." She crossed her hands before her ample bosom. "It seems that the patriarchy has already convinced you that writing is a male profession."

I nodded and nearly laughed as I got a handle on this chick. She was a man-hater. Probably a bulldyke, too. Her earlier behavior towards me had been hostile, most likely because I had dared to even exist without ovaries. I floundered for a response that would get me her cooperation. I was a chick now. Wasn't there some sort of chick code I could appeal to?

She reached out and put a hand to the side of my upper arm. "Don't worry!" She winked. "I love it when a girl takes up arms against the oppression and beats them at their own game."

Whatever gets me some info, sister suffragette. Hey, wait! That sounded alright. "Well said, sister suffragette," I said, smiling.

She laughed politely and rubbed her hand on my upper arm. "Listen, I can maybe aid you in your endeavor. I'm quite good with ancient languages. Why don't I take a break and we retreat upstairs to delve into this matter?"

"Upstairs?"

"Yes." She walked past me, towards the front door, and waved vaguely at the ceiling. "I live upstairs. I also keep the good stuff there." She turned the lock and flipped the open sign to read closed. "This stuff down here is mostly for Goth kids and wannabe Wiccans."

A secret stash of the real stuff? Lead on, my good woman, lead on! "Yeah, ok!"

She rushed at me, smiling playfully, and hooked her arm into mine as she led me to a staircase in the corner of her store. We ascended and she unlocked the door at the top. Her apartment was a huge loft, very airy and full of light. The ceiling was well over ten feet high and the wall that faced the street was broken up by large, floor-to-ceiling arched windows. Shelves, wardrobes and other big pieces of furniture divided the apartment into separate spaces. There was a large stack of wooden boxes against the far wall.

She led me to the kitchen space, separated from the rest of the apartment by a giant shelf full of spices, wine bottles and food, and a long counter. She had me sit on a high stool at the counter. "Can I offer you anything to drink?"

A drink would be a great excuse to stick around longer and ask more questions. "Tea?"

"Sure thing! Which would you like?" She reached up with one hand to point out the many jars of teas she had on the shelf. She recited their names, but I was distracted by the fact that her suit jacket had been pulled up by her arm. One of her bra cups was now completely exposed to my gaze. The purple lace looked barely adequate to the task of restraining the mound of pale flesh as I confirmed my theory. Bras only look nice on a big pair of tits. Her tits also seemed to be a lot bigger than I had thought at first glance. Her dark, stiff jacket was downplaying her cleavage, not emphasizing it.

Her list was finished and I looked up at her face sheepishly. I hadn't heard a single one. She was smiling. I nearly winced as I said, "Uh...whatever you pick will be fine."

She took one box off the shelf and switched on her electric kettle. "So, what can you tell me of these symbols you're researching?"

"Nothing." She raised an eyebrow at me. "I mean, I know nothing of them. That's the point of the, uh, the assignment. We were given a topic we have no idea about."

"Don't worry, sweetie! You're in the right hands with me." She put her hands on my shoulders and gave me a brief hug as she chuckled. I guessed she was being supportive, so I chuckled along with her. The friendlier the two of us were, the better the chances she'd tell me if she knew anything about the kind of magic the cultists had used up on Stony Mountain to change all of us. "Could I see them, please?"

"Um, I forgot them at home," I lamely said.

"Oh, that's a shame," she said, sounding about zero percent disappointed. Her hand kept rubbing my shoulder.

"I can draw them for you," I said. "I know them by heart."

"Well, I'd like that. Wait right here!" She walked off someplace beyond the shelf wall. She returned quickly, holding out a pencil and notepad for me. I accepted them gratefully and began recreating the symbols that were on the petals of the blue flower in my brain. While I was doing that, she stood next to her electric kettle, waiting for it to boil. I thought I could feel her eyes on me the whole time, but I kept concentrating on drawing the symbols properly.

Her kettle soon started whistling and she quickly stopped it. I was focused on drawing, so I didn't watch her as she moved about her kitchen area. When I finished and looked up, there were two cups of steaming tea on the counter. Next to them were a small, decorative bowl of sugar and a tiny, porcelain jug of milk. She sat on the stool next to mine. I dispersed the four symbols I had mentioned to her as Kevin between the rest of the twenty-four. Hopefully, she wouldn't make the connection between the linebacker and the blonde.

She took the notepad and made a small noise in the back of her throat as she looked them over. "Do you happen to have a really big, rude, brown haired boy in your class? Very tall and horribly fat?"

So much for that. "Uh, yeah. Yes, he, uh, he got the same assignment as me." I tapped the notepad. She was just looking at me. "I hate that guy."

She smiled again. "You have very good taste."

I plastered a fake smile on my face. "Thanks."

She held up the notepad. "I'm going to help you with these. I just need a few of my books." She got up and walked off again.

I decided to try and leverage her hatred of the real me to get as much info as I could. "There's extra credit!"

She stopped and turned. "If there's anything I can do to help you upstage that...boy, then all you need to do is tell me."

I forced a smile on my face, even as I wanted to bitchslap her for saying the word boy like it was the worst possible insult. I briefly wondered if I could hit girls, now that I was one. I decided it was still beneath me and got back on topic. "We were given the symbols in a specific arrangement. Two circles, one of thirteen and one of fifteen symbols. If we can decipher a higher meaning they form in such an arrangement, we get extra credit."

She raised an eyebrow as she alternately looked at me and the notepad. "These symbols hail from very different regions and eras. They cannot be meaningfully combined."

Can't, or you won't do it? I affected some puppy dog eyes and held my hands up in a pleading gesture. "Please! Please help me! I don't want that brute to upstage me again."

"Don't worry, I said I'd help you." She put the notepad on the counter again. "You just draw them in the arrangement they were given to you by your teacher and I'll beat his challenge."

I smiled as I sat up straight. "Thanks!"

She walked off deeper into her apartment, collecting books from various shelves as I flipped to a fresh page and drew the symbols in the exact arrangement as they were on the flower. The woman was saying something about how my teacher was obviously male since he had no respect for the totality of symbolic structure, or whatever. I wasn't really listening.

When she returned, she placed nine big books on the counter beside me. I kept finishing my drawing. She stood behind me and looked over my shoulder. She made a small noise of appreciation. "You're very good."