Going Your Own Way, but with Magic

Chapter 10

Shockingly, I am bad at resting. You need patience to heal, much more patience than I have. But eventually the bandages come off and Mr Bates lets me lift heavy things again. Now, it's time to talk about stopping Cecelia. We need to stop her. 'We' being a sixteen year old girl and a non-magic man in his seventies. But she needs to be stopped. Somehow. She's possessing people. That isn't right. It isn't normal magic. As opposed to weird magic. Anyway, she tried to kill me. So that's murder. Attempted murder. I can't exactly call the police, so I have to stop her myself. This is all logical. It's also complete and utter bullshit. I want an adventure, but I want more than that. I want a destiny. A purpose. A nice, neat way to fit into the world. A destiny and a nemesis have been dropped into my lap, and I don't want to throw them away. I want to be needed, and if I stop Cecelia I will become, in a small way, irreplaceable. I'm not being entirely selfish. It would be good to stop her, and official channels aren't going to work.

We have a whiteboard. Mr Bates has bought a whiteboard, the kind you get in football changing rooms. "They had it at the charity shop, and it could come in handy," he says defensively. Maybe he's right. We go over what we know about Cecelia, to hide how we have no idea what we're doing. Very rich, very magic, able to possess people, no qualms about killing/hurting people. Great. "What's she...doing? Does she have some kind of plan?"
"Yeah. The tea party was like a really creepy recruitment pitch. Something about making the world fall into order and worship the demon gods. She started trying to kill me before we got onto how." He winces, and I regret saying that. He's not quite over the whole 'blaming himself' thing, stupid as it is. "Whatever it is, I don't think it involves asking people politely."
"I can't fight her alone."
"I can help with that." I grimace. This is not news I want to break to him. "No, Max, I'm not going to try and fight her." Oh, thank god. "I know, or know of, some people that might help you." Sounds promising. "You've met the magic Elders," he starts. We share a Look. "But there's also an underbelly to the magic world. Some criminal, but mostly outcasts. People who didn't fit in, or who weren't the sons of wealthy families and still had the audacity to try and learn magic. I think they'll like you." I'm smiling despite myself. An underground network of weirdos and freaks who hate the elders. Might even fit in there.
"Sounds great. How do I sign up?" There's going to be a catch, I know.
"They don't make themselves easy to find. The Elders bribe local police and government to go after them, so they stay well hidden. From what I've read, they tend to hold gatherings on the edges of human events, especially anything with a counterculture element. There's either a door or a spell or some kind of passcode keeping them hidden, it's never clear as to which." That's an okay catch, a catch with workarounds.
"Great. If they're anywhere, I'll find them," I say with confidence I will definitely regret later.
"Good. But if there is any kind of danger, if anyone looks at you sideways, get the hell out." I nearly make a joke before I see his face. Instead I nod, carefully.
"I will. I promise." The words are sour, because I know it's a promise I'm going to break. It's getting so much easier to lie, and I don't like it.

I want adventure. I really do. But I also don't want to leave here. Maybe a work from home scheme, for adventurers. I want to carve a niche in the world. But I also want to teach Daphne to do tricks and help in the bookshop and be lulled into the rhythm of a relatively quiet life. A nice, gentle, comfortable life, where having a place in the world seems less important. I have to fix Cecelia's face in my mind to keep myself packing.

I've been to music festivals and cosplay conventions and communist poetry readings. The last one was bad. Really bad. A few days ago, I was blissfully ignorant to the existence of communist poetry. I would like to return to those idyllic times, please. They all took themselves so seriously, as well. My magic was surfacing out of sheer pain, but I couldn't sense anyone else's.

On the bright side, I am better at sensing magic now. When people are doing it, it's obvious. Searching for ambient magic takes more control. It's quiet. When the power is there, everything is silent. Another magic field is like a catch in the silence, a dropped pin. But wherever I go, there's no more than slight background static. I'm starting to feel like I'm searching for a needle in a pile of needles. If I were a fringe of society witch who had found a bunch of other fringe of society witches to hang out with, where would I go?