joegoda | The Framing of Jon Smith

48550 / 50000 words. 97% done!

"So," Vinny said, "this is the new fish?"

"Tommy." Tommy said. "Tommy Peterbuilt. No relation to the Truck company." Tommy had a some foul smelling ale in front of him. He didn't drink it so much as look at it.

"Yeah, I figured as much." Vinny went back to his drink. He eyed me accusingly over the rim of his glass. "Where'd you pick him up? And why?"

"I needed some fresh eyes, Vin." I sipped my Jameson. "I would have called Dick..."

"But Dick's seen too much?" Rosie said. "Like he'd been tainted?"

"No," I said defensively. "More like Dick had already been affected by the same thing I've seen."

"Uh huh." Vince said, making it clear that he didn't understand.

"Look," I said, "when you've seen as much as I have, and Dick's seen a lot with me, you tend to lose the 'normal' perspective."

"Normal perspective?" Tommy actually took a drink of whatever it was he had and grimaced. "What's that mean?"

"It means," I explained, "that sometimes the eyes of a non-magical person stops seeing things for being magical when they've seen enough. Sometimes everything they see is magical, which means that nothing is."

"I don't get it," Tommy said.

"Okay, look." I pointed at myself. "I've seen a hell of a lot of magic done and magical stuff." I pointed at Tommy. "Tommy, how much magical stuff have you seen?"

"I told you about that crummy magician back home," he said.

"Yeah." I nodded. "And when when we were back at the brownstone, you didn't see anything unusual, right? Where I saw folks staring at me like I had two heads."

"I did see that garden gnome," Tommy said.

"So, it was the fact that you hadn't seen that much magic that allowed you to see..." I stopped and finally heard what he had said. "What? You saw what?"

"There was a garden gnome outside next to the gargoyles," he said innocently. "I didn't remember seeing him before."

"You didn't tell me that." I said.

"I just remembered it just now," he said, his voice raising in defense. "You asked me about the people, remember? That's what I was focused on... the people."

"When did you see the gnome?" Vinny asked.

"Right after I looked outside." Tommy was taking bigger drinks now. "Now that I think about it, I definitely don't remember seeing him when we first went in."

Vinny looked at me. "Do you know this gnome?" His voice carried just a hint of sarcasm. He knows I've met many a gnome in my life. In fact, he did an autopsy on one, once.

"Maybe." I started to build a suspicion. Maybe build it too strong a word. I started to suspect a suspicion. "Tommy, what did this gnome look like? Red hat? Yellow shoes? Short little cute beard?"

Tommy turned his eyes up to the ceiling, searching his brain cells, which were fading quickly based upon the smell of what he was drinking.

This one had red shoes, not green." Tommy paused while he thought about it. "He did have a red hat, though. Blue vest, yellow tights. Beard, not so much. Maybe a little trim?"

"Really?" I asked. "Just a little trim of a beard? Gray or brown?"

I had a definite reason for asking. Brown beards that are tightly trimmed tend to be the females. It's only when gnomes reach about three or four hundred that the lady gnomes beard starts to turn gray. That's when it's almost impossible to tell the males from the females apart. From what I've been told, even the gnomes can't tell the difference at that age. From what I've been told, at that age, it doesn't really matter.

"It was white." He thought a second more and then nodded vigorously. "Yes, white."

Not gray, not brown, but white. Had to be Dante'.

"Okay, Tommy," I clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said. "What does it mean? Garden gnomes popping up out of no where?"

"It means that I'm being played," I said miserably. "I think. Maybe."

"Which means you don't know," Vinny said.

"Which means I don't know," I agreed. "But... I think I'm beginning to believe I know more than I think I know." I think I may have heard that before.

"Okay, tell us what you do know." Vinny prompted.

"Well, there's this gnome," I began, "that works for Barrick. His name is Dante' and he says he's worked for the Barricks for a couple hundred years."

"Okay," Vinny said. "That could be. Barrick employs a lot of gnomes, garden variety and otherwise."

Tommy's right eyebrow lifted. "Other.. otherwise? What else are there?" He burped a bit.

Vinny and I looked at the young policeman. He was showing serious signs of intoxication.

"Tommy, I want your keys." I held my hand out.

Tommy started to argue with me, looked at the drink in his hand and changed his mind. "Yessir. You're right. I'm drunk, a lot." He fished in his pocket and gave them to me.

I looked toward the bar and waved at Dave, the Bartender. He wasn't a bartender, with a little 'b'. He knew his stuff and could hear a whispered drink order from half a mile away. He could tell when someone has had too much to drink simply by the way their hair lay or a button was buttoned and he would cut you off like THAT, man. No argument. Ever. Well, I once saw one guy try to argue with Dave, and fail, miserably. Dave is a gorilla. Not a gorilla of a man. A real gorilla.

Dave started out as the 'pet' of Tommy D. Eventually, whether by magic or by intelligence, Dave began to understand human language, and to a degree can speak it. As long as you don't expect a long winded discussion, Dave can be quite enlightening. He saw me wave at him, nodded and raised his hand.

I tossed the keys to Dave, and he deftly caught them with his foot. I saw him drop the keys in a drawer locked behind the register. I knew that the keys would not only be safe, but, when Tommy was ready to leave - based upon Dave's decision - his keys would be found in the drawer without Dave having to dig for them. Dave was a bit of genius, animal or human, and never forgot anything.

"Tommy here," I explained to Vinny, "lived across the river, in an area that has very poor magical conductivity. He moved to the big city," I waved my hand, palm up, to indicate all that we surveyed, "because he wanted something more exciting."

"Really?" Vinny looked at Tommy with a sort of awe. "You moved to this place with the hope of something more exciting?"

Tommy nodded. "Playerville is jus... just... It's nowhereville, man." He lay his head on the table. "I think I'll lay my head on this table for a while."

I looked at Vinny. "What the hell did he drink?"

"Woodchuck ale?" Vinny guessed. "Thousand Monkey lauger?"

I reached over and picked up his glass and sniffed it. It smelled a familiar, like ... new tires.

"Tommy." I shoved him, hard. "Tommy!" I yelled in his ear.

"Waddaya wan'?" he mumbled in his sleeve.

"What did you order, Tommy?" I saw Vinny looking at me quizically. "I've drunk stuff that had this quick an effect on me."

"Really?" Vinny showed interest. "Where can I buy some?"

"Gnome village," I told him. "It's called... Dodge something or other." I searched through the shattered brain cells to find it. "Dodge mead. It's called dodge mead."

"Never heard of it," Vinny admitted.

"N'er her o it," Tommy drooled.

"Yeah, wouldn't surprise me." I drank just a touch of it. "I bet it's not a standard drink around here, either." I caught Dave's eye and waved him over.

"What want?" Dave was not a man of many words. I liked that about him.

"What's this?" I held the glass up to him.

Dave's nostrils sniffed and flared and he growled. "Evil crap. Toss it out." He snatched the glass from me. "Where you get it?"

"Not me, Dave." I pointed to Tommy. "He ordered it, apparently. I just wanted to make sure it's not in your stock. If it is, however, I would want to have a cot in the back room, because that is some good stuff."

Dave growled again, deep and not a happy sound. "Not in this house. Not ever." He poked Tommy, who just barely recognized he was being poked by the 800 pound gorilla in the room. "Evil crap."

"Where'd it come from?" Vinny asked.

Dave shrugged. "Gnome village? How it got here, who knows?"

"You didn't serve it?" I asked.

"Hell no," Dave stared at me like I had offended him. "Evil crap."

"Okay, we get that, Dave," Vinny said. "How did it get here?"

"F'kin magic?" Dave decided he was done with the conversation and took himself and the glass of evil crap back behind the bar.

"Okay," I said. "It's entirely possible that Tommy was just mickey'd by a gnome."

"What?" Vinny looked at the sleeping boy. "Why? He's an innocent."

"Maybe," said a new voice, "it's a gnome's sense of humor."

We looked back over my shoulder and the stranger stood. About five eight, blue eyes, blond hair, normal build, whatever the heck that means.

"Who are you, stranger?" Vinny asked. Always subtle, is our Vinny.

"Just a guy," he said, "who knows a thing or two about gnomes." He handed a card to me.

"Hey," Vinny said. "You're that guy..."

The card was plain and white with black letters that read "Barrick wants to see you."

"Oh yeah?" Just because Barrick wanted it...

"Turn the card over," that guy said.

The other side had one word. "Now."

"Crap," I grumbled.

"Crap?" Vinny looked at the stranger.

"Why?" I asked that guy.

"Turn the card over again," he said.

I did and this time the front of the card read "Dante is dead. Come alone."

"Double crap."

"Double crap?" Vinny was looking concerned. "How much worse is it going to get?"

"Beats the holy hell out of me, Vinny." I turned toward that guy. "Tell Barrick that I'll be there shortly."

"Now," that guy said.

"Shortly, buddy." I was starting to get pissed off. Too many people had jerked my chain recently. "If Barrick wanted to see me so badly, he could have ridden his mammoth in here and seen me."

It got the reaction I expected. That guy blinked furiously and pulled his head back as if someone had taken a punch at him. "But Mister Barrick..."

"Can bloody well wait his turn, champ." I tucked the card back into that guy's pocket and turned him around. "Tell Bobby that I'll be there as soon as I can. That's it. Or, he can come see me here. Right now, I don't give a rat's ass. Now beat it, buddy."

That guy started to turn around and protest, but Dave was right there to back me. He's useful like that. "Time to go. Bye Bye." That guy glared at me for a full five seconds while I gave him my "Yeah? What yoo gonna do about it?" look. He left through the door while still giving me the eye.

"Dude," Vinny said. "Was that wise?"

"The gnome is dead," I told him.

"Oh yeah?" He snorted. "Long live the gnome." He raised his glass in a toast.

"No, Vinny," I put my hand on his arm, mid toast. "The gnome was my key to it all. With him dead, I don't know where to go next."

"So?" Vinny argued. "So what? Just cuz the gnome is dead doesn't mean he's any less useful. Tell me how he's not and see how fast I argue you out of it."

"Well, now that he's dead, it..." I thought about it. "Okay, so he's..." I couldn't' figure it. "Okay, so he still could have done what I thought he did."

"And that was...," Vinny prompted.

"Yeah, I forgot." I drained my glass. "See, you knew about the demon, right?"

"No," Vinny said. "You didn't tell me about any demon."

"Oh," I said. "How about the exploding ghost at the brownstone?"

"No," Vinny shook his head. "You didn't tell me about any exploding ghost either."

"Well, at least I told you about the time warp, right?"

"Unless you're talking about Rocky Horror, chum, you did not tell me about the time warp."

So, I told him. I told him about seeing the demon, Roy, down at the Warehouse district. I told him how Mary the Match disappeared through a gateway and how the demon then promptly exploded. I told him about going back to the brownstone to check out Mendlehousen's apartment and Tammy the exploding ghost. I talked about going to the Barrick building and meeting with Dante, at which point I get very drunk on dodge mead and wake up later to the sound of Barrick coming home, and Dante has to shuffle me out of there but quick. And finally, I told him about going BACK to the brownstone to check out a hunch, the hunch that I'm playing right now, only to find no Tammy, but a timewarp that moves the kid and me three and half hours into the future.

Vinny sat speechless though it all and waited. He wasn't exactly slack-jawed and glassy-eyed. He'd heard some of my stories before and besides, he's the guy that gets to dissect and figure out what killed magical folk. Some might call him jaded. I call him experienced and understanding.

"So," he said when I ran out of steam. "What has this got to do with the Escher Curse?"

"And see, Vinny, that's the one part I can't quite figure out. I know what it is..."

"And you know how complicated it can be," Vinny added, "holding on to multiple sources and realities all at the same time, right?"

"No, Vinny, you never explained that to me." Tommy snorted and started to softly snore into his sleeve.

According to Flavius' Guide to Spells, Witchery, and Oddities, the Escher Curse, as Cousin Vinny explained it to me, involves being able to handle twenty-seven different dimensions all at once. Not only handle twenty-seven dimensions, but taking them and twisting their logic and physics so that you essentially get the same effect as is demonstrated in the famous drawings and painting by M.C. Escher.

The curse part goes into effect if you actually direct this sort of wild and erratic physical change to the universe at an individual or a building or any sort of place where up is up, down is down and the difference between the two is very distinct.

As Mendlehousen can attest, well... if he could attest, the effect can be very dramatic. While standing still and upright, a person can fall down, fall up, fall sideways, forwards or backwards. AND they can do this all at the same time. The SAME time! Talk about messing your day up. Vinny said that the stresses encountered during an Escher curse can literally tear a person's head from their shoulders and their arms and legs from their respective sockets. An extremely painful way to die, and certainly, if not dead, a permanently crippling attack.

Not something a low-level magician should attempt. I don't even know if a mid-level magician could do it. See, it's not the complexity of the spell, which is considerable, but it's the amount of energy that is required to perform it.

In order to draw that sort of energy, you would have to be a Mendlehousen with full access to all the nodes and nexi underneath the brownstone. You would have to be a Barrick with connection to that two thousand acres of Colorado land he has, just so that nobody else would lay claim to that part of one of the largest Ley lines in the Continental United States.

I wondered about something then. I suspect I may have wondered about it earlier. I also think that the brownstone was such a weird place that I would never be able to keep my head straight while I was there.

What if you didn't need one person to handle twenty-seven dimensions. What if you had one person to handle one dimension twenty-seven times. OR, twenty-seven different people doing the job just once. Hmm. That reminded me of a dead gnome.

"Vinny," I asked him, "What sort of spell or charm would keep a person from seeing what was right in front of their faces?"

"Like an occlusion spell?" Vinny asked.

"No, well... maybe." I scratched my head. "I dunno. Look, lets say there was this little girl, who wanted to run away from home, see?"

"Yeah," Vinny said, humoring me.

"And say, she had a bunch of friends who wanted to help her run away, too."

"Okay."

"How could these friends hide her in plain sight, so that when a person looks at her, they don't see her?'

Just like I couldn't see Mary the Match as she sat on the stoop right in front of me. I did see five minutes into the past. Not an hour or so, like I was figuring. Mary was right in front of me all the time. I just couldn't see her.

"An Occlusion Spell would do that, Jon." Vinny shrugged. "All that's required is to pull light around a person so they appear to disappear to anyone looking for them or at them."

"Okay, but let's say that it's me, looking for Mary. And Mary is sitting on the stoop right in front of me. Why can't I see her?"

"What else is going on?" Vinny asked.

"Well, everyone that was passing or driving by was giving me the fish-eye," I told him. That's why Tommy was with me today. I suspected that the people that were watching me were doing something to me. I needed Tommy to be my 'ordinary' set of eyes, to see what was 'really' there, rather than what my magically attuned eyes would see."

"And Tommy," said cousin Vinny, "saw everyone just acting normally, while you saw them intensly focused on you, right?"

"Or," I told him, "intensely NOT focused on me."

"Yep, Jonny boy, it sounds like an occlusion spell to me." He looked sadly at his drink, which had gone long ago. "They kept your wandering mind severely occupied while what they didn't want you to see when unseen. Do you think everyone in the entire neighborhood was in on it?"

"That's exactly what I think, Vin." I nodded and lay some bills on the table. "And now, I'm going to go see the guy who arranged the entire thing."