Chapter 11: Consequences

 

By the time I made it back to the Shop, I no longer felt as if I was being followed.  That fear had melted into sheer excitement, or concern, or terror.  I wasn't able to process any of it until I was certain whether the ring in my hands was the stone they were looking for.

Before I opened the door to the Shop I removed the hat from my head and the herb from my shirt.  

I saw within, Pendragon at the front desk and Aine beside him.  They both looked at me with the same immediacy, which to me meant she was fully informed of the situation.

Without a word I walked up to the counter and placed the man's ring on top.  It looked pathetic, the clouded yellow stone, wrought with imperfection and poorly set onto the tarnished silver setting.  We all looked at it briefly, with myself waiting to see what Pendragon had to say.

"Explain," was all.  As I told the story, his eyes fixed on the ring.  Aine, on the other hand, watched me tell the story.

"Once I got to the building I was able to get into the lobby without a key," and here I paused.  I wanted to see if Pendragon reacted but he didn't.  "Front door unlocked for me, too.  Only there were guys inside already, two of them."  Still no reaction from Pendragon, but Aine was looking increasingly nervous.  I put the hat and herb on the table and scratched my head, "One of them pulled a gun on me when I walked in."

Aine gasped and covered her mouth, fearful eyes  looking for a wound on my abdomen.

"Well obviously I didn't get shot..."

She relaxed with an, "Oh."

I moved behind the counter and wrapped my arm around her shoulder to pull her in.  She hugged me tightly like I imagine a little sister would've.  So, rocking her, I continued, "The one guy told the other guy, whose name was Coop, that they had to find a rock."

Still no reaction from Pendragon, himself just staring at the ring, so I finished the story.  "I figured I'd look for something that belonged in The Shop.  This is what I found."

Aine and I stood, rocking back and forth like idiots, for what seemed like hours.  In reality we only waited two minutes for him to stop eyeballing the ring. 

He cleared his throat and transferred his gaze up to me.  "I'm afraid it's bad news."

"Damn.  I thought I found what they wanted."  I separated from Aine and stepped forward to look at the ring more closely.

"Yes, bad news, you did," said Pendragon with certainty, "And now it's going to be our responsibility to protect it from them."

Chapter 10: The Stone

What Rock could they mean, I wondered with a bit of a panic.  I was standing in a living room with two armed mob-looking types and a dead body.  They couldn't keep me in their memories long enough to deal with me, so I was able to look for the rock at the same time as they did.

What rock they could mean, though, was anyone's guess.  I tried looking for a literal rock, and then I started to wonder if it was a metaphor for something else.  A relic like something in the Shop, called by a nickname to belie it's true purpose.

I slid papers to the side, opened desk drawers, and even went into the bedroom to look through the deceased's dresser.  Nothing to me was a rock, other than the obvious gem stones and geodes all over the guy's place.  A new age shrine with assorted crystals was in plain sight, but if the gangsters hadn't taken them by now, I doubted they were the ones being looked for.

So I paused, closed my eyes and thought for a second.  Rock, rock, rock.  Rock music.  Rocking back and forth.  A rocking chair.  What a rock!  Then it hit me.  The ring.  

In my vision, the woman who killed our fellow on the ground here, she was happy about an engagement ring.  There's no way he would put something valuable on another person.

My heart sank into a pit.  What if the rock everyone is here is looking for is a stone on the hand on the murderess.  I wondered if these guys knew her.  Knew to come by because she had told them the coast was clear to come find the rock.

If that's the case, then they don't know they already have it.  Or maybe... maybe she thought she had it.  Maybe these guys were sent to make up or her mistake...

I decided to creep back over to the old man on the ground, who was all but being ignored by the two others who were turning the place over.  I wondered if they were still looking for the stone, making this look like a robbery gone wrong, or both.

I knelt beside the corpse and looked at his left hand for a wedding ring.  Nothing.  The right hand, bingo.  A silver band, tarnished, with a big old chunk of yellow crystal in the setting.  It didn't look polished at all, rough and opaque with little light getting through.

Exactly the sort of thing I'd see on the shelves at the Shop.

You smart bastard, you gave her a fake and kept the real one for yourself.  Good for you.

I slid the ring off the finger and slipped it into my pocket before standing back from the body slowly.  Coop was looking in my direction.

'I think the body just moved,' he muttered, suspiciously squinting at me.

Okay, that's enough, I'm out of here.  My fear rang into my head as the gun was revealed once more.  I trusted Pendragon's charms this much, but what if there was a time limit.  Anything still here, they can have...

On my way out of the apartment, they only seemed to briefly notice that the door had opened, and by the time I slipped out they had gone back about their business.  

My heart hammered as I reached the elevator, and waiting for it seemed to take forever with me looking over my shoulder.  I kept expecting to see a gunman.

Once safely in the elevator, I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against the wall.  My head was throbbing, my feet vibrating.  Every part of me felt charged and alive with adrenaline!  I wanted to run out of the lobby as fast as I could and scream at the top of my lungs.

Contrarily, I put my hands in my pockets and kept myself together as more people filled the elevator.  They still didn't seem to be able to remember me after their initial glance in my direction, and so I came up with a new idea.

Once the elevator doors opened and people started spilling out, I put my hand on the shoulder of a nice looking old lady and looked her in the eyes.

'Oh!' she gasped, 'I didn't see you!'

'And you won't remember me,' I said calmly, 'But I need you to tell the police there's been a murder in 23-E.'

Her face went white and she backed up with a gasp.  My hand slid off her shoulder and she began to look confusedly back and forth in front of her.  'Oh dear,' she said, 'Someone call the police!' she shouted. 'Murder!  Murder!'

I was sure that her age would prevent her from being a suspect even if she did miraculously know about the body's location.  And with the police coming to meet Coop and his friend, I decided to make my way back to the Shop with the yellow stone.

Chapter 9: Staring Down the Barrel

There were already people in the apartment.  We didn't see this coming.  It wasn't the police, I could tell that much, because the police don't make it a habit of sliding a gun barrel against the back of your head while they ask you who you are.

'What ya doin' over there?' spoke another voice.

I could hear the gun man behind me turn in his leather jacket to shout behind him, 'Moron, I'm pointin' my gun at someone.'

'Alls I see is you threatening to shoot the wall, Coop.'

It clicked for me.  I was invisible unless I did things.  Slowly I leaned forward until the last of my hairs fell off the tip of the barrel, and I shut my eyes hoping that would work.

I heard Coop shout 'He's right--', and then fall silent.  'He was right there.'  

My heart pounded something awful, I could feel it in my eyes.  I decided to turn, to look.  I put my hands tightly to my side and shifted on my feet, careful not to touch anything as I did so.

I looked down the barrel of a gun, and found myself praying to a god I never believed in. 

The gunman held the gun out still, and stared in my direction with  a squint in his eyes.  I doubted the power of Pendragon's charms to withstand the scrutiny.  He was looking right at me, but I could see him struggling with trying to keep me in his mind.

Ah, I thought.  I'm not invisible.  I'm forgettable.  I stepped to the side to see if the gun barrel would follow me.  It didn't.  Finally the man called 'Coop' put the gun down and turned to his partner.  

'You done having a Mexican stand off with the lamp?' said the partner.  I could see him now.  A large, robust man in a suit.  Nothing fancy, just a sports coat.  He wore those leather gloves you see in mob movies when people don't want their prints all over the place.  That made sense, considering he was standing over the dead body from my vision.

It was hard to see him there.  To know my vision was real, and that I watched him die without doing anything to stop it.

Coop walked over to the corpse as well and knelt to check pockets of the robe.  He didn't find anything, but he took a moment to close the robe up for the poor guy, and he tied it off.

'Anything?'

'No,' said Coop as he stood.  He was a lanky guy, too thin even for the suit he was wearing.  His gloves looked oversized.  His spiked blonde hair was out of place, though.  Like someone took a skateboarder for Union Square and put him in a mob costume.  'Can we maybe get a blanket for him?'  

Hard to believe this was the same guy that was just pointing a gun at me.  He looked like he cared about how the guy was found by the police.

'Nah, leave him,' said the partner apathetically, 'Can't have it look like people was here after the murder.' He spoke with more authority, than suggestion.  'We find the rock, and we leave.'

Find the rock, I thought to myself.  Whatever this rock is, I have to get it before they do, and get out of here...

 

Chapter 8: When All Else Succeeds

Walking uptown in Manhattan's nightlife was a weird change of pace for me.  The upper east side was essentially reserved for the higher echelon.  Doormen, clean streets, medians lined with tulips, they just knew how to take care of their surroundings up there.  Even on my most well dressed day I would still look like someone running an errand here.

Now, walking weird from the sand in my shoes, wearing a pinstripe fedora, and smelling from some dried herbs on my shirt, I was sure I was sticking out like a sore thumb.  But as self-conscious as I was, no one seemed to pay me any heed.  They ignored me, flat out.  Good for them, I thought bitterly, I'd ignore me too if I could.  

It suited me fine, I guess, til I reached the address Pendragon gave me.  The doorman just stood there pretending I didn't exist.

Pendragon told me not to speak, so I just rolled my eyes and opened the door.  Immediately he startled to life with, 'I'm sorry, sir!' and grabbed the handle from me to pull it open as I walked through.  

I gave him one of my weirded out looks and walked towards the resident door.  

How was I supposed to get in?  Pendragon never told me what I was supposed to do about doors, only people.  But here I am at a door that was most likely locked, separating me from the elevator and, presumably, another locked front door.

I felt like an idiot, which I hated.  But I was certain that returning to Pendragon would only get me slapped or insulted given his state recently.  I could just envision him now saying, 'You should have tried the door.'

So I did, I reached down and pulled it open without an issue.  My head jerked back with surprise.  Maybe someone left it open, I considered, and I entered the room with the elevator.  

Twenty-third floor.  I stepped out into the carpeted hallway which was vacant and dimly lit.  I was glad I wouldn't have to use the excuses I came up with in the elevator as to why I was here, if confronted by a curious resident.

Twenty Three C.  Twenty Three D. Twenty Three E.  There it is.  Without hesitation I turned the knob and marveled at the door for opening without an issue.  Both doors could not have been left unlocked.  This was something Pendragon did.  

I slipped in through a narrow opening and turned to close the door gently.  

Relief, but of a strange sort.  Relief at making it into a room where a dead body would be waiting for me.

That's when I heard the gun cocking behind me, and felt the barrel pressed against my the back of my head.  'Who might you be?' asked a gruff, cruel sounding voice.

I didn't turn around, I didn't respond.  I just put my hands up and stood facing the closed door for what felt like an eternity.

Chapter 7: How a Mage Prepares

Pendragon had a few instructions, tools, and details for me before I left for my task that night.

First, he drew a charm from his cabinet and pinned it on my chest.  Three green chutes, dried, tied with a light blue piece of thread.  The same cabinet held hundreds of bottles, none of which were labelled.  Still, he searched a specific one, and plucked it from the shelf gingerly.

Approaching where I stood again, he went to kneel at my feet.  I stopped him, 'Let me do it,' and he complied, handing me the bottle.  It was filled with a fine orange powder, nearly to the brim.

'Sprinkle a pinch on each of your shoes, if you please,' were his instructions.

I did so, wondering if there wasn't some kind of magical chant I should be doing.  I wanted to know what this all did, but Pendragon said nothing as he took the bottle back from me and replaced it on his shelf.

He put his hands together and looked at me as if trying to spot a breach in military uniform.  He began at my shoes and worked his way upward, mumbling under his breath minor observations about how I 'should be more muscular' and how 'when he was my age'.  Once he reached my head he looked as if he had suddenly been smacked.

'Your hair, Mikey,' clucked Pendragon.  He walked over to the coat stand and retrieved a pinstripe fedora I hadn't noticed hanging there before.  He plopped it on top of my head and nodded.  'There.'

I felt like I had just been prepared for battle, but in actuality I just had twigs on my lapel, sand on my shoes, and a hat on my head.  I lamented the no questions policy.  I was very curious about what magic I was wearing.

'Do not draw attention to yourself,' instructed Pendragon, making me feel like I was about to be dismissed.  'Talk to no one, even if they talk to you first.  Under no circumstance are you to reply to anything at all.'

I opened my mouth say okay, but Pendragon slapped me across my face before I could.

'No!'  He looked relieved as I recovered and held my cheek in my hand.  It didn't hurt, it was just emasculating.  'Silence... including now.  No responses.  No words.  Just go about your task.'

I wondered briefly about whether this was a real instruction or just an excuse to slap me.  Nevertheless, I headed out the door to break and enter into a crime scene.

Aine gave me a double thumbs up as I left the Shop, like she knew what I was up to.  Did she?  If so, I'm glad her cookies fell on the ground.

Chapter 6: The Man on the Street

It didn't take me long to remember all the details I could from the vision.  I wondered how Pendragon would put it all together just from the bit of information he received, nevertheless he seemed confident as he entered and locked his back office.

The day went on as usual.  Every now and then I checked the news for information about a killing or some kind of blip on the face of the customers that told me someone they knew had passed.  But no one had so much as dropped by to offer condolences about Pendragon's son, let alone for this most recent stranger.  I would've asked about that, but the no questions policy forbade it.

Near the end of the shift with Pendragon still in his office, I told Aine I'd be back shortly and stepped out 'to run an errand'.  I lied.  I was headed to Veniero's to pick up something baked with sugar for Aine.  She'd minded her business like a real champ these last two days and I appreciated her not dragging information out of me about things I couldn't even explain.  And how do you thank a bipolar gothic princess?  Treats.

Equipped with a box of assorted butter cookies I walked out of the bakery and back towards The Shop.  I must have blinked at the wrong time though because I was suddenly falling backwards with the box spilling all it's contents on the ground.  Above me, some guy extended a hand downward to help me up.

'Sorry about it,' he said lightheartedly as he helped me up.  'Didn't see me, huh?'

It's not every day someone explains to you why you bumped into them, but I just nodded and rubbed the back of my head to check for a lump.  'Guess not,' I replied, finally looking down at the crumbs below.  

'Bummer,' said the guy.  'Here let me get you new ones,' he added quickly reaching into his jeans pocket to retrieve some cash no doubt.  He was maybe a couple years younger than I was, and looked like a regular guy who didn't mean to ruin my cookies.  Judging from his scruffy face and bed-head look, he could probably use the money he was about to give me.

'Don't worry about it,' I offered.  'I gotta get back to work anyway.'

'Suit yourself,' said the guy with a shrug, and then he stood there as if expecting something me to leave first or change my mind.

I left first.  Something about the way the guy looked was a bit weird to me.  It's like he was excited to have bumped into me.  He didn't seem sorry in the least.  I pushed it from my mind and returned to the Shop empty handed. 

I was, of course, not asked where I went.  So I chose not to tell Aine how close she came to having a buttery cookie.  She would have been devastated. 

Lucky I returned when I did, though, as Pendragon's office door opened and he shouted for me to join him in the backroom.  

He had an apartment for the mage I had seen killed.  And he wanted me to break in.

Chapter 5: Waking the Pendragon

By the time I had gotten to work the next day, there was no mention on the news or in any of the morning papers about a stabbing in Manhattan.  I chalked it up to stale news, or some kind of cover up.   I didn't like the idea of that guy just laying there in his robe waiting to be discovered.

I reached the Shop, and was relieved to see Aine there.  She feigned a gasp at me and said, 'He returns!  Honestly I didn't think you would.'  Both hands on the glass counter, which I am constantly cleaning her prints from,  she leans forward and blows me a kiss from her black tinted lips.  

Once she saw my readied look of disapproval over her behavior, she lifted both hands from the glass like a criminal at gun point!  Not wanting to disappoint, I stuck my finger out towards her and pulled the trigger of an imaginary gun.

She gripped her heart and thrust herself back against the cabinets, slowly lowering to the ground until she vanished behind the counter.  Somehow I cracked a smile, and then opened the curtain to the backroom.  

Pendragon was still sitting there.  And I say still because it was clear he had not left the Shop since our conversation the previous night.  If not for the need to use the restroom, I would say it appears he didn't even move.  Even his sudoku puzzle was left unfinished.

He didn't seem to even notice me, so I put my backpack on the table.  He mumbled something absently, twisting his overgrown brow between his fingers.

Clearing my throat rather obviously, I leaned back against the employee lockers and folded my arms.  Still having no reaction, I spoke to his shoulder; 'I had another dream last night.'

That got him.  He stopped whatever it was he was doing off in la-la land and turned to face me at last.  'None of us have been killed.  I would have been told.'

'I'm telling you it was exactly the same.'  We stared at one another in mutual certainty.  'Well,' my eyes wandered upward as I pictured the lace nightgown.  'There were new elements...'

'You have work to do,' uttered Pendragon simply.  He grabbed his walking cane and pushed himself to stand.  Facing me, he looked suddenly at my hand as if just noticing I had one.  I flinched at his sudden shift of focus, but he didn't say anything.  He just turned his head gravely and looked at me sidelong for a moment.

'I have work to do,' I prompted.

'Recover the details of your dream and give them to me,' said Pendragon as if making a list.  I began to mentally annotate my new duties the way I would for any other Shop task.  'Once completed, I will work on finding out who it was based on the information.  With any luck we can discover the scene before it is reported to the police.'

'Whoa, hang on on a minute.'  I tossed aside my mental note pad and tried to reel in Pendragon, 'You want me to visit a murder scene before CSI or NCIS or whatever has a chance to check for prints and stuff.  You're crazy.  They'll end up thinking it was me!'

'It will be you,' roared Pendragon again, the way he usually does when I say something stupid. 'One day, and one day soon, it'll be you on the ground waiting to be discovered, if you don't find out what's happening to your relatives.'

My relatives, there it was again.  It was a detail I had managed to block rather successfully until he had finally forced me to swallow the pill.  These people I saw die, these five people, they were family I never knew I had.  The first time I met them was to watch them die.  I felt woozy, my legs quivered under me.  

'Snap out of it,' roared my boss once more.  'Go write down everything you remember from your vision and bring it to me.  With luck we can isolate him by sheer reputation.'

'You're right... I will.'  I mustered myself to go back out into the Shop.  Luckily, Aine continued the Shop's policy of never asking a question, and I let myself vanish into my task without her interruption.  I decided I would reward her later for her patience.  Some kind of doughy reward, filled with cream, and powdered with sugar.  That would do it.

Chapter 4: Prey to Love

It was worse this time, because I knew what was happening. It's that scene in the slasher flick where you know the killer is in the house preparing to jump out at any moment.  But from where?  The closet?  Behind the refrigerator door?  There was nothing I could do but watch.

I was in midtown, and I felt like I was at home.  The moon brightly lit the living room on this clear night.  I enjoyed the way the blue light changed the way it all looked.  My padded velvet robes felt rich and clean against my otherwise naked body, and I was proud of myself for some reason.  Accomplished.  I heard the clinking of ice which aroused my attention.

'I didn't anticipate you'd be wanting another, my love.' My Irish brogue was intentionally alluring.

Then I saw her.  What I was so proud about.  A beautiful young woman in a lace nightgown, who was shaking martinis behind the kitchen counter.  She smiled with a sweetness that comes with intimacy.

As she poured the martinis into each glass, her ginger bangs fell in front of her face.  Instantly inconvenienced, she shook her head to clear them away.  I loved it when she did that.  I would marry her simply for the way she never had a solution for those bangs.

'Here... we... are,' she says softly, hanging me my martini and using her newly freed hand to rub the small of my back.  'What shall we drink to?  My new, sparkling ring?'

I pulled her hand off of my back to look at it.  The brilliance of a diamond is unmistakable to even the unknowing eye.  I kiss the ring on her finger an say, 'To unions.'

She looked at me with that reproachful look.  I must have said something too archaic for her.  Being young, she always wanted things done simply, and I always complicated them.  But we completed each other in a way that I had never anticipated with the life I lead.

She repeated, 'to Unions, weirdo,' we clinked glasses, and we sipped.  Or at least, I did.  And when I noticed she didn't, I immediately tossed my drink aside and shoved my finger down my throat.  I couldn't bring myself to gag, my throat felt paralyzed.

'You violated your first rule, mage.'  I was kicked back and onto my side.  I felt stiffening and swelling in my neck.  A million spells flashed before my mind, but they would required my voice.  I resigned myself to death, and looked to my killer.

She had gone into the kitchen after kicking me, and was returning with a knife in her hand.  The silver hilt glistened in the moonlight.  'Never imbibe what you have not prepared.'  She knelt down to show me the hilt, that it had my name on it.  She meant for me to know this murder was intended, and how long she had been waiting.  Years.

'I wanted to break your heart,' she whispered into my ear, 'before splitting it in half.'

Barely able to breathe at this point, I closed my eyes and experienced the sensational pressure of a blade stopping up my body.

I didn't startle awake this time.  I laid in bed and knew with a helpless indecency about a murderess in Manhattan changing out of her lace nightgown. 

Chapter 3: Minor Cantrips

Previously... 
It turned out Pendragon had the dream as well.  Naturally as the guy's father, he would have.  It was weird to me that after a year of working together we would discover our relation at the same time.

I suspected he knew something, did something, or said something to put this image into my head.  I even insisted he only took me on for work because of my relation to his son. 

He ruthlessly denied the accusation. 'YOU walked into MY shop!' Pendragon roared in response, 'Your family is presumably connected to his mother.'

It was the best argument he had made, and the only one which calmed my paranoia.  Still, our parting after that night's revelation was tense.  All I knew was, come morning, he expected me to return in spite of my 'inability to deal with paradigm'.  It was just a bit much all at once.

That night I went home to tell Cayce about the conversatio, but leaving the subway train as my train reached Dekalb I decided to hold back and exit last.  I meandered on the platform, as if looking for something in my bag, until the crowd left the station.  

With a bit of morbid curiosity, I tip toed around the platform to see if there was anything left behind.  Any blood, or maybe even a chalk outline like you see in movies.  I am not sure what I expected to find, but I wanted to connect this spot with the vision I had.

But it was just a subway platform.  No sign that last night there was someone my age struggling to cast one last spell.  'One last spell...' I said allowed.  The statement felt so normal to me.  I struggled with believing that I had living relatives, but the idea that I had a vision of his murder was making perfect sense.  I wish I could explain, but when information is correct, it has a way of feeling so.

I closed my eyes and stood on the now empty platform.  I pictured the way my hands glittered in the dream.  No, I remembered the way my hands glittered in the dream.  It felt a certain way, too.  When I explained it to Aine back in The Shop.  I said it was 'as if your hand had those pins & needles from falling asleep, and then you put a vibrating glove on.'

And then it occurred once again.  It was brief but I know it was real because my hand flinched like it had touched a hot stove.  I looked down fast as I could, but all I saw was my hand.  Normal.

Feeling a wave of intensity wash over me, my fists clenched and I shoved them into my pockets.  The turnstiles at the end of the platform were beeping with new passengers, so I left the station for home before how I felt became a problem for these others.

The whole walk home my heartbeat throbbed against my neck, wrist, even in my teeth.  I was ready to burst, my flesh the only thing keeping me contained.  Combustible, but alive.  For the first time in my life I felt like I had just done something.

Cayce was not impressed.  She circled me as I told the story to her but I suspect it was also because I was holding her leash and wasn't opening the door for her.  I walked her, fried a little slice ham on the stove, squeezed some lemons into sugar water.  I felt myself begin to calm until, eventually, I considered sleep a possibility.  

Wherein I did not consider I'd have another vision.  That a fifth person I never knew would be knifed down, and that I would be forced to watch it.

But I did.

Chapter 2: The Warning

Previously... 

Once Mr. Pendragon had returned to the shop, I made it clear to Aine that I wanted to speak to him alone when I brought up the dream.  She didn't argue.  Once he settled in, I gave her a silent signal.  She flipped her black hair curtly, called a farewell to an uncaring Pendragon, and left to do whatever it was she did with her time.

I waited a bit, and once I suspected he had finished his business and resigned to a sudoku puzzle for the evening, I entered the back room.  There he sat hunched over a bundled up newspaper.  And as expect, his puzzle was about a quarter filled in.

'Mr. Pendragon,' I began simply, with more of a tone than I usually use to say goodnight.

'Yes, go ahead,' he responded, steely eyes fixed coldly on the numbers.

'I had a dream last night,' I continued.  But even that little bit seemed to stir him uncomfortably.  I took it for annoyance and skipped to the end, 'A guy was stabbed in the heart, and Aine said I should tell you.'  And then, opting to leave, I said, 'That's all.'

We've had weirder conversations, but I was anxious to see this one end.  Something about what I said sounded like an admission of guilt.  Mr. Pendragon put his pen down and called for me to stay before I left the shop.  Upon my return into the back room, Pendragon places a pen and paper on the table. 'Draw them,' he instructed.

'The symbols on the knife,' I said knowingly, but with a need for him to affirm it.  Even then, I felt the coldness of something supernatural licking at the back of my arms and bringing the hairs to stand.

'Yes, please.'  

Pendragon looked... sad.  It was strange to see any emotion in his typically disinterested features.  But this was altogether human, in a way that surprised me flat out.

Off my guard, I complied with his wishes and watched as he began to tear up upon my completion.

'Now you've got to tell me what's going on,' I said abruptly.  It was the rudest thing I'd ever said to him, speaking to him like an equal as such.  But this was becoming more interesting to everyone I told than it ever would have been to me, and I needed to know why.

'Your dream, as I'm sure you've realized since, occurred last night in reality as well.'

He didn't seem surprised by the correlation between the crime in Brooklyn and my vision of it.  And so neither did I choose to be surprised as he confirmed what I already suspected.

'The young man who died, whose name you wrote here on this paper,' and then hesitation.  'He was my son.  He was killed, this morning, in the twilight hours.'

'I'm... sorry.'  It seemed the only thing I should be allowed to say in spite of how curious it was all making me.  I bit my tongue and waited for what I hoped was inevitable clarification.

'As am I, that I had not known this sooner.  All this time, I thought it was a coincidence, you coming here.  But it appears the gods are casting dice once more.'

'Mr. Pendragon, please stop speaking it riddles,' My heart was pounding within my chest as I felt myself on the verge of some great discovery.

'You received a warning granted only to those of close kin.  An event common to our kind.  It appears as if you were related to my son, in some way.  Only those closest in blood would have received the vision.'

My chin went upward the way it does when I'm expecting a fight.  Talking about my family is a call to brawl if you ask anyone who knows me.  My folks were a sore spot, memories of them leave a bitter taste in my mouth. The idea now that there was more I had to learn about them.  It sucked.

Pendragon went on, 'It's why you saw it happen. Your dream was a warning.  One we must heed, if either of us is to survive.'