Old World Magic Ch. 11

She sat stunned for a moment and I knew she was gauging her next response very carefully. I didn't give her the chance but stayed on the offense, "Now, unless the very next words out of your mouth are directions to his office, followed by 'I'll inform him that you're on your way up sir.' I suggest you either start thinking about what you'd like to do with all the free time you have coming up, or start preparing your resume."

- - -

A few moments later I was pushing open the door to Francis J. Solaris's office. The timid looking man sat behind the desk made of mahogany. The office was a corner office on the third floor, which I supposed made him think he had some sort of prestige. But the view was of a grungy grey parking lot and a strip mall. Beyond which the south eastern desert could be seen in the distance, not close enough to offer any nice view of course, but enough to make the room slightly warmer than the hallway I'd entered from. Francis Solaris stood as I entered, sizing me up. No doubt the receptionist had told him I was on my way up, and he wasn't sure who I was or what to expect. I sent out tendrils of thought as soon as I entered the room. He stood and walked across a plush carpet and I felt my magical ability touch his mind. I almost recoiled, it felt greasy, like a fast food burger that had been left out to sit in the hot sun. But I persisted, eager to see who he thought I might be.

I shook his hand and the physical connection was enough for me to fabricate, on the fly, a story that would mesh with what he expected. "You know who I represent of course." I said without preamble.

His smile faded and his eyes narrowed, he wasn't eager to say out loud what he was thinking. "I think I do, but I wasn't told that I'd be receiving a visit."

My mental tendrils dug deeper into his rotten soul and I dug more information. "Mister Russo didn't want you to be expecting a visit." I say simply and I let go of his hand. I move past him to his desk and open the humidor on his desk and rummage my fingers across the cigars there.

"Uh," he says, taken aback by my dismissal of him and my boldness in looking through his humidor, "There's a very nice Cohiba in there. I was saving it but if you'd like..."

I pick up the cigar and look at it. I know a little about cigars, but not much. Still I sniff at it and toss it back in the box, "Dominican, not Cuban. I'll pass." Then leaning against his desk, I kick one of the chairs back from it. The chairs that the clients usually sit in. I point to it and say, "You sit." The slight squirly man hurries to sit down in the chair, while I, still leaning against his desk tower over him. I give a disdainful sniff and say, "Mr. Russo wants to know what you are doing with the boss's money. He said the returns have not been what they should be for two quarters now.

I dug deeper into his memories as I stared into his eyes. He'd been skimming of course. He knew that he was only one of at least a half of a dozen or more money managers for the infamous Italian Family in the Vegas area alone. He beleived that he was far enough away that a little skimming wouldn't be noticed. He was probably right in fact, I didn't know. But that didn't matter. I left the question of who I was blank, and his mind filled in the rest with his worst fears. Of course if he knew why I was really here, his fears would be much worse.

Mr. Solaris stammered, "Well the economy has been so volatile lately and with the election of President Obama there's a lot of speculation that.."

I cut him off with a wave of my hand, "So you're not skimming off the top then?"

His face went as white as a sheet and he swallowed. He knew he'd been caught. "Well, I wouldn't say skimming but, um... the thing is there's certain ..." I glared at him, my eyes boring into him. I didn't need magic for this threat, nothing I could say would be worse than what he could imagine. "Look I swear, it's only a couple thousand, well under a hundred. I needed it to take care of some legal issues." His hands were gripping the arms of his chair tightly. I turned and walked around the desk and sat in his own chair as I looked at him. He began to panic and speak quickly, "If I hadn't taken care of these issues it would have affected my work much worse and this was the only way that I could think to deal with it!"

I stared at him silently and let one hand run across my bald head as if I were contemplating what I was going to do next. But really I was buying time as I pressed deeper into his mind. He had some legal issues, and in thinking about them had brought them to the forefront of his mind where they were easy to read. But the information I wanted was deeper and I needed focus to get to them. Much like the way Erin had her memories locked in a safe, I knew too that I'd need time and effort to get to the core of Francis Solaris's greasy mind.

Recalling the glamour that I had been practicing, a trick taught to me by the succubus Ruby and practiced in secret, I released more of my magical energy. I saw Solaris's eyes glaze over and go blank as my spell began to swab his mind in a thick cottony layer of confusion. When I spoke next, I 'pushed' my thoughts into his mind, mentally commanding him to do as I said. The mental suggestion would be deeply ingrained and would seem like his own thoughts when they occurred to him, not a remain left behind by a mind mage. Keeping my glamour active, I spoke and pushed at the same time, "For the next little while you will sit silently, but you will remember going over the books with me."

He nodded his head and then sat, staring into space silently. I moved back around the desk and sat in the other client chair next to him. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder, the physical contact made what I had to do much easier. I closed my eyes and let my consciousness sift out of my body and into his as I began exploring, searching for what I needed.

The inky black muck that made up his memories and thoughts were fetid and diseased. This was a sick man, and I avoided looking at his thoughts and memories. I felt them clinging to me like oily smoke as I passed through them, searching for his memories. I wanted to see how he remembered events that he'd shared with Erin when she was a young girl.

I found the center of the putrid mind, but instead of a safe I found a glass display case. It was like a large trophy case one might see at a high school. The trophies inside were grimy, as if held constantly by a man with dirt or blood on his hands. But the trophies had no dust. No Francis J. Solaris wasn't hiding these memories, he treasured each and every sick one. The glass case wasn't even locked, and the partition slid open as if on well oiled ball bearings. These were memories that weren't hidden away, but revisited often.

I hesitated, and by instinct alone reached out to clasp one of the trophies at random. I almost dropped it as soon as I touched it. It was warm like the rotting flesh left of roadkill out in the sun. But I drew the memory to me and fell into it.

- - -

Through his eyes, I knew I was looking through his eyes, a passive passenger watching a movie that was made years ago. There in his hand a beer, already warm before it was half drunk. Damn heat, damn sun, damn it all. Worst of all, that little brat. She's the reason I'm unhappy.... little brat. Stuck in an unhappy marriage and it's all her fault. Would have left but she holds Erin against me.

"Did you see my dive daddy?" She called, her copper hair plastered to her young face as she climbed up the ladder on the side of the pool.

"Yes, daddy saw you." He answered, as he felt a rage settle over his mind. Then beneath his breath he muttered, 'saw you ruin his life.. saw you turn his wife into some domesticated ice queen...." Francis crushed a beer can and threw it on the pile with the others. His fists clenched. Anger and rage settled into his soul...

"YEEEEEEE!" Erin screeched as she ran across the patio and jumped into the water again. Water that splashed up. A droplet landed in Francis's eye. The chlorine burned... HOW MANY TIMES HAD HE TOLD HER NOT TO RUN BY THE POOL?

"ERIN!" He hollered, his fists clenched in rage, "GET OVER HERE!"

- - -

NO! I threw the trophy to the ground. I wouldn't relive that memory any longer. I wouldn't see the pain. NO NO NO, not my memories. I couldn't re-live them they weren't mine... Not me, not my memories, Solaris, not me!

I fought my repulsion and drew forth another memory from the glass case.

- - -

"Daddy what is it?" My / his / our little Erin muttered as he / I / we stroked her forehead.

"Nothing baby, go to sleep, Daddy just wanted to rub your head while you slept. Go back to sleep my little angel," the girl's father said.

- - -

I threw aside this vile memory as well. I could feel the very core of my being, my very soul, repulsed and rebelling at being in mental contact with this monster. But I needed to know for sure, I needed damning proof, from his own mind, before I could... before I could....

I reached for another trophy, but hesitated... I was reaching for small ones, afraid of what the larger ones might signify. But if I was going to damn this man, I needed to be sure. My 'hand' reached for the largest trophy, the one in the center of the case. The memory engulfed me and I saw through his eyes again.

- - -

He / I / we pondered our drink, 'Jack Daniels never let me down. The burn washed away the anger for a little while. That bitch kicked me out of my own bedroom. She said that Erin's teacher asked about a bruise on her arm. She dared lecture me? How dare she! HOW DARE SHE.'

*Another drink.*

*Another drink.*

'What time is it? Did I fall asleep in front of the TV again? bathroom... vomit... What the hell happened to my life?'

*Upstairs.*

*Bedroom door is locked? Fucking bitch. I'm leaving here. This isn't my life anymore.*

"Daddy?" Turning, little girl standing in doorway. This is her fault.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" Screaming. Crying.

"Get the fuck out of here Francis! I'm calling the cops!" She yelled. Ungrateful bitch of a wife, I / he / we will teach her to mouth off.

*Smack*

"I'll teach you..."

- - -

"NO!" I yelled, my own voice again, not a memory, but myself.

I was back in Solaris's office. I pulled my hand from his shoulder as if he were on fire and burning my flesh. I broke the mental connection between the two of us and turned. I fell to my knees and managed to get my head over his trash can just in time.

Solaris sat there passively, following my command to remain silent as I vomited every last ounce of my breakfast up into his trash bin. This wasn't a man, this was a monster. He had taken a young girl, still a child and hurt her. I knew that she had idolized her father... loved her father... he did nothing but hurt her. The worst part was how she'd blamed herself for her parents divorce. If only she'd been a good girl... if only she'd not made him so mad. She knew better....

I vomited again, spewing nothing but stomach acid. For several minutes my body herked and jerked as I dry heaved, having nothing left to spew into the trash can.

I turned and at that exact moment, as I looked at the man staring blankly into space, it was a good thing I did not own a gun. Or this monster, I could no longer think of him as a man, would have it's brains painting the walls of his office.

I stood up and released the glamour that held him, sighing as the slow drain on my mana ceased. He blinked his eyes. He looked around for his books and then shook his head, "So I hope that explains the financials?" He said somewhat confused, his memory conflicting with the command I had implanted.

"You sick fuck," I spat out as I pulled kleenex from a box on his desk. I wiped my mouth, "How could you do that to your own daughter?" I was again scanning only the top layer of his thoughts, the most surface and immediate thoughts.

He looked confused, "What?" He asked with confusion on his face. "What did I do to my daughter now?"

"You fucking monster," I spat at him, bile rising in my throat again, "The things you did to your daughter... I can't even speak them... she was just a child."

He stood up with a surprised start, "Moira's only seven years old. How dare you suggest that..."

I held up my hand and commanded again, both verbally and with another magical mental push, "Stop," *Silence* He fell instantly mute and his eyes again unfocused slightly. I read the surface thoughts. Moira... Moira... another disappointment. Just like the first one... she was always in the way... always screaming when he was hung over...

I fell to my knees again vomiting up the remaining bit of bile left in my stomach. This monster had remarried and had a second daughter. He hadn't touched her... yet. But she knew... she knew daddy had his 'bad days' and needed quiet after he'd been drinking.

It took all my willpower not to throw the bucket of vomit on this monster and then choke the life out of him as he stood there mute. But I stood back up and tried to clean my face with more kleenex. "What about Erin you sick fuck?" I asked, breaking my command for silence.

"Erin? My first daughter? I haven't seen her in the better part of a decade. Her whore mother kicked me out. Found out that two people could fuck around on their marriage vows, then she blamed me. I've nothing to do with Erin."

My eyes narrowed. I had made up my mind. What I was going to do would be horrible if this were a man. But this wasn't, this was a monster. Anyone who could do those things to a child, to his own daughter.... that was no man but a terror from legend, a blight, a disease. I looked at him and said, "You're going to have six months to fix the books and then I'll be back. Do you understand? You have six months to fix this mess."

He nodded, confused by my jumping topics. But I saw also relief in his eyes. I wasn't going to kill him, that's what he expected. He expected me to 'take him for a ride' or some other mobster cliche. "Of course, six months, I can have it fixed up by then, I swear it."

I glowered, an easy task at how much I hated this simpering pile of filth at the moment. "For now, I'll need some walking around money before I catch my flight back to New York."

Mr. Solaris stood quickly nodding his head. He hustled over to his desk and drew out a checkbook and pen, "This is drawn from my personal account, just take it to the bank on the check and there won't be any problems." His simpering attitude angered me. I knew he was hiding something. I didn't want to probe him again, but I had to know.

Filth, that's what his mind felt like. Fetid swamp water with indescribable and unknown bits of detritus. Yet I dove in again as he yammered on about something. His thoughts were so close to the surface, they floated like an oil slick. He wasn't going to fix the books. He'd been preparing for this for months now. He was going to siphon off as much of the mafia's money as possible and then make a run for Venezuela. He already had tens of thousands siphoned off into a secret account they didn't know about and he could rape the rest over the next six months. He even had his escape route all set up. He even figured he'd cover his tracks this time... why leave behind someone who'd look for him?

Wait, what did that mean? I looked deeper.

He knew that the house was below code. He knew his whore wife was cheating on him too. A 'planned' trip out of town and she'd have him over again. He'd spend the night in his bed, fucking his wife. Batteries out of the CO2 detector

I turned and vomited again. I didn't make it into the trash bin this time, but I didn't care.

"Are you ok?" He asked insincerely as I struggled to stand up again.

I locked my eyes on him and did something I hadn't ever done before. I didn't even know how to do it, I was acting solely on instinct. I visualized the 'door' that I used to keep my mental magic separating my mind from those I wished to 'read.' Then I opened every lock and threw the door wide. I saw him on the other side and I reached him and grabbed him, pulled him through the doorway. Inside the classroom of my mind he struggled against me but he had no chance. I had the magic, I had the power, and we were in my mind now.

In my mind I threw him to a desk and he fell into the seat. I flung my hand in his direction and dozens of sharpened pencils pierced his body, pinning him to the chair. His mind self cried out in anguish, helpless.

My mind form wavered between the the bald headed young man that I appeared to be and the man of almost forty who had taught in this classroom so long ago. I roared with the voice of God at him, bending him to my will as if he were but a sheet of paper. "You!" I pointed and the lights flickered and dimmed and the room became hazy and insubstantial. "You are no man, you are a beast, an animal, a monster. You will set your affairs in order, see that your will leaves an equal portion to your wife, your daughter Moira, your ex, and your daughter Erin. Then you will tell your wife of your horrible past, and leave her, you will find a sleazy motel and check in. You will spend the next week contemplating the terrors you have committed and then you will end your pathetic life."

The mind form of Francis Solaris struggled, pinned in place and bleeding from the dozen puncture wounds of the sharpened pencils, "No, I don't want to die."

I leaned forwards and poured my willpower into him. The magic came like a burning heat from my eyes and the flesh of his mind self crackled and flaked away in black cracking flakes. He screamed but relented, "Anything master, I yield, I shall do as you say."

I pulled my willpower back and he sagged, defeated, I added one last command, "When I leave your office, you shall forget all of this. You will carry out your command with all possible haste, and you will remove your vile presence from this earth." Even here, in my mind, I felt something warm running down my forehead. I didn't need to look and knew for certain what it was as the blood ran into my mind's image of my eye, blinding me as my scalp bled from the power I had channelled.

His mind self nodded it's head, charred skin on a blasted face, a rictus that matched the evil of his soul itself. I grabbed him and cast him from my classroom, slamming the door shut behind him as I threw his consciousness out of my mind.

Back in the real world he stood holding a check. His eyes were glazed over and I knew that right now he was fighting a battle with the command I'd given and his own sense of self preservation. It was a battle that he had no chance of winning.

I reached out and took the check from his stiff fingers. But I stopped before I touched them. My fingernails were pouring blood from the soft tissue where the nails met the fingers. The nails beds were black and I knew, without a doubt, they'd fall off if I put any pressure on them. "Hand me a towel or something," I said, dripping blood on his desk blotter.

He reached into his desk and pulled out a clean white undershirt, folded, for emergencies I supposed. This qualified. I tore it in two, crying out in pain as two fingernails fell off with the pressure of the act. I swept them into the garbage pail, leaving more blood on his desk, then wrapped my hands up in the cloth. I pulled one hand up to my scalp and felt a fresh trickle of blood there too. I pressed against the wound in my head and and growled at him, "Put the check in my jacket pocket." An order he complied with, though the glazed look in his eyes was being replaced by one that looked haunted, hollow, and I knew that his subconscious mind had lost its battle with my command. He was a dead man walking now and he wouldn't know it in his awake mind, but his subconscious did.