Brian's Choice Ch. 04

Brian answered the door the next morning, and immediately stiffened up. He was expecting something like this, yes, but his father's training kicked in all the same.

"Hello, we're looking for Susan O'Connor," one of the two cops declared.

"Do you have a warrant?" Brian's father asked from behind him. Brian relaxed slightly; he had just been saved from having to block the cops.

"Do we need a warrant?"

"If you want to arrest her, or anybody else here, then yes, you do."

"What are you hiding that you're so defensive?"

"The bill of rights states that I don't have to answer your questions. Do I need to contact my lawyer?"

"Where in the bill of rights does it say that?"

"The fifth amendment. Do I need to contact my lawyer?"

"We are investigating an incident that happened this morning. We need to question Susan O'Connor."

"Do you have a warrant?"

"Do we need a warrant?"

"Either you can give me your card and I'll have my lawyer contact you, or yes, you will need a warrant."

"What are you hiding?"

Brian's father remained silent, only cocking his head sideways and raising an eyebrow as if to ask if the cop if he was an idiot.

"Fine. Here's my card. You have 24 hours or we will return with a warrant."

Brian didn't have to ask what that was about. His father was a criminal defense attorney. People like Brtian's father knew, and had drilled it into both his wife's and son's heads, that the cops are not your friends, and thus to always have a lawyer at the ready whenever possible for any interactions with them. The only part of it all that surprised Brian was that his dad didn't identify himself as Susan's lawyer.

In fact, the moment the door was closed, he was on his smartphone, contacting one of his lawyer buddies instead. Brian shrugged it off and went to Susan.

"The cops showed up."

"They want to talk to me like they did the Furey triplets."

"Probably. But we're waiting until dad has a lawyer with you."

"Why can't he be that?"

"He didn't say, but I've seen this behavior before. I think it's probably some arcane lawyer rule that prohibits him from being the lawyer to his son's girlfriend."

"I want to go..."

"Home?"

"I think this is my home now. I mean my old home."

"Your mother left you here for a reason. Dad's a lawyer and he can protect you. You and our babies. Don't take chances until we know what's going on. He's working on it."

"You..." she huffed at him. "You pull the 'baby' card on me?"

"If it keeps the three of you safe, then yes. Until we know the cops don't have it in for you, you're safe here."

"I haven't done anything wrong."

"I know that, but this is dad's actual job. He's told us enough about how cops think. Running home would give them an excuse to detain you. On top of that, who knows what control the Fureys have over the cops? Stay here, where it's safe."

Susan huffed but acquiesced.

She was quite distracted, though, while his dad did his thing. Brian got her settled down, but she couldn't concentrate on anything. Fortunately, Brian's father knew how to get results quickly.

"I don't know how to say this," he started after he sat down with the two teenagers, "so I'm just going to blurt out the facts."

Susan started to whimper, so Brian hugged her a bit closer.

"After school started yesterday, a witness saw Jenny entering the Furey residence. A few minutes later, it was blown apart in a giant fireball. The police have taken four bodies to the coroner, three older bodies and one young adult. They think your mother is one of the older bodies, but there's not much left of what they think is her body so they're having to wait on dental records. They already know that two older adults lived there, plus a boy who went to the community college, and the triplets.

"The Furey triplets were at school at the time, so the bodies account for the rest of that family plus your mother. It was Friday; a great many college classes skip Fridays so it's no surprise the younger boy was there. The triplets claim to know nothing other than you and your mother hating them. They're claiming that you will kill them, and the police believe it. There is now a warrant for your arrest, but my lawyer friend intercepted it. This lets you turn yourself in. It makes things look better for us.

"There was also this one cop, not one of those that came here earlier, but from the way he's been asking questions, he's aware of witchcraft."

Brian and Susan stared at each other for a moment.

"Magical police?" Brian said. The secret was out now; there was no reason to try to keep it quiet anymore, at least from his father.

"Can't be."

"A cop who just happens to be magical, then?"

Susan shrugged.

"So it's true. And you know about magic. When were you going to tell us?"

"Ideally, never," Susan replied. "Our secrecy keeps us safe. Brian knows because they tried to 'whammy' him into knocking me up. When that failed, that's when they resorted to guns."

"Oh dear lord. So this is like Harry Potter?"

"To an extent."

"Mix it with something like the Hatfields and McCoys," Brian added.

"We can't defend against what we don't know about."

"Actually, you can. Your Christian True Faith protects you."

"It does?"

"Well, it protects Brian. Now that I think of it, I was assuming it'd protect you too. I'd have to try something on you, that you'd not like, to test it on you. I don't know if I can make myself do that." Susan sighed. "I like you too much to willingly try to hurt you, and I'm not supposed to try to hurt anybody anyway."

"Okay, I still think you two should have told us, but we'll table that discussion for later. They're publicly blaming this on a gas line break, but I've already checked -- that neighborhood has no gas lines. This cop, however, was asking other questions. I think he suspects magic destroyed that house. He thought I knew about magic; otherwise why would we harbor you? So in the end, he's the one that slipped up, not you."

"Mom killed them," Susan whimpered. "She killed them, and killed herself in the process."

"I need you to eat something, Susan. I know it's hard, but it could be midnight before we can come back. We will brief my lawyer about your powers, and I think he will agree we should insist on talking to that one cop. As for the lawyer finding out about magic, he's bound by a confidentiality agreement. All you need to do is prove magic exists."

"I'm still learning, but I can cast simple spells without assistance. Why can't you defend me?"

"I'm too close to this, Susan. Your mother is gone, but you're my son's girlfriend and you have his child inside of you, so Lily and I will do our best to care for you. That means my role now is as your father. So, I can't be a lawyer for you, so my friend will do that instead."

Brian wasn't allowed to go, of course, but he did sit with Susan to convince her to eat despite being so upset. Once she left, though, he began to plan.

It actually was past midnight before they returned. Susan had been arrested, but was then released on lack of evidence with no charges filed; having a lawyer for a father got wheels turning. Susan, however, was being monitored by court order, ordered to maintain her distance from the Furey sisters, and was forbidden from returning to school, where the triplets would still be attending after they were resettled (not a totally bad result; Brian knew Susan was fretting about the school bullying her for being pregnant). The following Monday, Brian's mother would withdraw him from school so they could homeschool together. And that would became the new normal.

It was like a tornado had torn through the house they had just stepped foot in. Susan, already on the edge, broke down at the sight of it. Brian, unsure of what to do save hold Susan, looked to his father. His father only shook his head sadly.

"The cops are never kind to the places they search. To them, nothing is sacred."

Of course the cops did this. After all, the woman who owned and lived in the house was the chief suspect in the murder of the three eldest Fureys. It doesn't require a leap of logic to go from that to the cops getting a warrant to search the place, nor does it matter that much that said chief suspect died in the attack.

The adults moved further in, each going through the carnage, collecting anything that looked particularly valuable in terms of money or emotional attachment, and placing them in cardboard office boxes they brought for this purpose. Brian stayed with Susan. By the time she recovered from the new shock of seeing her home decimated, there were two boxes for her to sort through, and the adults were filling more. They moved to a couch that his father had turned back upright; the cops had ruined the back, slicing into it looking for who-knows-what, but it was still serviceable.

"I still don't think we should have come here so quickly," he heard his mother complain.

But his father was ready for it, like they've already had the argument, he won that time, but his mother couldn't let it go. "Once the triplets are resettled, this could be the first place they come to for revenge. Time is running out to safely get Susan's keepsakes."

So they focused on what they came to do, or to be more precise, Brian did his best to keep Susan focused on what they came to do. An hour later, they had not just keepsakes, but her clothes and nicknacks packed up in his father's truck. All that was left was the basement.

"I was never allowed down here alone," Susan admitted. "This was her sanctum. It was where she taught me magic."

A pentagram dominated the center of the room, with a dais placed next to it, and a bookstand next to that. Storage cabinets lined the first wall, underneath the stairs that led back up to the living room. Bookshelves lined the second wall wall, a desk dominated a third, and the final wall in the square room had a workstation that wouldn't have been out of place in a chemistry lab. Some wall shelves took up more space next to the desk, but were empty, the items that were supposed to be there scattered about the floor. The cops had been down here, too, it seemed.

"How did you say the 'crime scene' was, where mom died?" Susan asked.

His father answered. "The police report said it was like a giant bomb went off inside. The house was almost leveled in the one blast." Then he sighed, and whispered, "there was an actual crater that took the place of most of your mother's body." He didn't want to say that last part.

"A giant bomb," Susan sighed, "or, a belt of grenades."

"She had a belt of grenades?" his father asked, stunned.

"Magic grenades, but yes, they would work like that. A potion that would be housed in a glass vial. Break the vial, and the potion explodes. We actually put them in steel sheathes to protect them from accidentally breaking. Anyway, I don't see the belt, but you can see the sheathes scattered on the floor here."

"How much damage would that do?" Brian wondered.

"One can obliterate a room and set fire to a house. A belt of them would decimate a house; in that case the fire would only be insult on top of injury.

His parents were too stunned to say anything, so Brian added his thoughts. "So, leave the sheathes off. Break one potion on the belt, that one breaks the rest in its explosion, and that's it."

"The police report they gave us about searching this place didn't include anything about bomb material being confiscated, magical or not -- and there were some magic items they confiscated from down here that were listed; that one cop said they'd only show up to those who were 'awakened'." His father paused a bit, trying to calm himself before he continued. "Anyway, that doesn't tell us if she did kill them deliberately, or if that was some sort of retributive strike for if they were to attack her."

His mother continued. "So for all we know she went there to negotiate peace, they killed her, and that action killed them too."

Susan trembled at the concept of a sacrifice play, and tried instead to focus on the task at hand, cleaning out the room by sorting them into two piles. She then pointed to the left pile.

"I understand you can't have anything to do with another religion in your house? Even if there's protective power in them?"

"That's essentially correct," his father replied. "No idols to other gods. It's the fastest way to draw His wrath."

"The pile on the left has figurines and other items of religious significance. Are you sure they can't come with us? I don't want them falling into the wrong hands."

"They can't be displayed for worship. Beyond that, they're just objects. So they can be stored somewhere, or even lent to a museum for display."

"Lent to a museum? I'll think about that. But for now storing them is okay."

"And the rest of this stuff isn't related to religion?"

"No. Mom really liked Wicca, but I didn't care so much, except..."

"Except?"

"Maybe two thirds of our magic is related to Wicca. And it's the more powerful stuff, too. I haven't had the training for it, but it'll limit me if I can't use it."

"You call on your gods to make magic work?" Brian asked.

"The stuff you can't do on your own, yes."

"Does it have to be them that you call on?"

"What do you mean?" Susan asked after a pause.

"Does it have to be the Wiccan gods, or can any entity with enough power do it?"

"What other entities would do it?" Susan asked, but as Brian and the adults stared at each other, she worked it out. "Oh. Huh. I don't know. Would yours even consider it?"

"Depends on your intent, I guess," Brian supplied.

"Intent, faith, and humility," his father finished. "There are stories in the Bible about that sort of thing, although it's rare."

"There are?"

"A woman once touched Jesus's robe and was healed."

"Mark 5?" Brian asked.

"Verse 25," his father finished, smiling.

"I've never directly worked against a Christian's protection," Susan admitted, "but my mother has, and told me it does exist. 'That resistance means they are either your best friends or your worst enemies,' she said. I still don't see how he'll accept me, though. I don't think I can give up my magic. I love doing it; it's like, my calling."

"That's how I feel about law," his father admitted. "But it's also why I won't defend those I feel are 'guilty as sin.' Such people want me to lie for them so they can get away with murder. I can't do that; I

like my soul too much. There are times I don't even charge for my services. So I'm guessing, as long as you keep your heart in the right place, you too will be accepted."

They finished up and left. Jenny's wand (it seemed she left the wand behind when she went to meet her fate) went into Susan's pocket, most of the stuff went into a storage unit, and the rest went to Brian's room. Brian's parents still weren't fully comfortable with the two teenagers sharing a room but didn't stop them either, Brian thought probably because they couldn't make matters any worse. Susan didn't want dinner either, and that got more sympathetic stares, but again nobody said anything; she wasn't going to die from missing one meal. Brian also decided to skip dinner so he could stay with her.

Susan sat on the edge of the bed, and Brian joined her, and wrapped an arm around her for comfort. She didn't move for several minutes. Then, she finally moved, unclasping a silver chain bracelet from her left wrist.

"Each link is individually enchanted," she said. "I did it. It was part of learning what I could do. One protects your mind from being fucked with. Another protects you from being transformed."

"Like that story where the prince is turned into a frog?"

"Yep, like that. This one protects from fire. This one keeps anything magic from taking control of your body."

"So, a bunch of specialized protections."

"The more specialized a magic, the greater the effect for the same amount of power. I actually kept it in that sanctum. My first magic item. If it had fallen into the wrong hands, that's a powerful link that could have been used to hurt me. Here." She started putting it on his left wrist.

"But-"

"No buts, Brian. You need me safe? I need you safe too."

Brian paused as the chain grew to fit. "Let me guess, one link resizes the chain to fit."

"I want you to wear it."

"But it's dangerous. To you."

"This bracelet actually has a distraction charm enchanted into it that will keep most people -- even witches -- unable to notice it, and a memory modification charm to make people forget it exists. That protection isn't perfect, but still, I'm actually more vulnerable to my wand."

"I don't understand."

"That wand they took from me. That was my first wand; like this bracelet, I'm vulnerable to it. And you can't charm wands like you can other stuff or it interferes with how wands boost our magic. So I'm more vulnerable to them having it than them taking this bracelet away from you."

"I still don't like the risk."

"Please wear it anyway? It makes me feel better."

Brian paused, then sighed. "Okay, fine. So I'm the Lord of the Bracelets."

"You're the what?"

"One bracelet to rule them all, one bracelet to find them." She lightly punched him in response and he laughed rather than continue the bastardized quote; she too smiled, the first smile she had sported in awhile.

"I'm officially pregnant now."

"You can feel them?"

"Yes."

"More witchcraft, I guess."

"Yes. A boy and a girl."

"I have a name for our daughter," Brian said. "Not sure about the boy yet. I mean, I was thinking 'girl' when I creampied you." When Susan just looked at him, he replied, "Jennifer."

Susan leaned forward into him, wrapping both arms around him. Too exhausted for anything else, he took her to bed and held her while she slept.

Brian hadn't thought far enough ahead. Chalk it up to him still being a teenager, he supposed. But it seemed that everybody knew about Susan's pregnancy.

"You're supposed to marry her before putting your baby into her," one churchgoer proclaimed to his face after services in a stereotypical holier-than-thou attitude.

"Shit happens," Brian threw back, knowing the language would offend and not caring. How dare this woman judge him; she had no idea what really happened.

"At least you picked a girl that won't abort," she said, looking quite a bit more sympathetically at Susan before returning to fix Brian with a hard stare -- as if he were some sort of predator. "I'm glad to see you in church, sweetie," she told Susan. I know it'll be a difficult time for you, but we will answer any of your questions about what to expect."

"Thank you," Susan replied simply. Meanwhile, she had one hand around his waist, gently rubbing on him, trying to get him to relax he supposed.

"What church did you go to, before Brian brought you here?"

"None of them. This is my first time. Brian's been teaching me."

"Oh really? Perhaps you should consider someone who doesn't want to get between your legs, instead. After all, Jesus wouldn't have knocked you up."

"Wouldn't he? I don't recall reading about God asking Mary, before knocking her up. And she was engaged, too."

Brian supposed that people in America couldn't go through 18 Christmases without learning something about the birth of Christ, but that is what stuck with her? "Excuse me," he interrupted before the conversation got any further out of hand; his response had been intended to shock, but hers were "fighting words". "We should go." He dragged Susan away from the stunned woman and towards his parents, who had made more progress towards the front doors before themselves being stopped.

"Were you trying to start a fight?" Brian asked.

"I don't like how they're treating you," she replied.

Brian's parents were of course engaged in conversation with another adult couple. They asked his parents, "you heard about the Fureys? Gas leak, they said. Act of God, I say."