Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The First Conjuration
Seal II
"Nicholas Parrish! I've come for my order."
While rubbing my shin, I squinted up at the entrance. A figure cloaked in a black greatcoat with silver buttons and a tricorn stood at the doorway, highlighted faintly by the falling rain behind him. "That's rude. Don't you watch where you're going?"
Again, I was ignored.
"I want that book."
I contemplated tripping the man with my umbrella when he strolled across the small shop, boots thumping heavily. The bit of indoor light hinted at blond hair and pale parchment skin under the tricorn. When he stopped in front of the slack-jawed proprietor, the desk lamp illuminated a curving mouth that was at odds with a sharp, shaven chin.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Although his voice quavered, Parrish remained stubborn.
"I told you before that price was no object to me," the figure continued, "when I ordered that book. And don't pretend you don't know what I mean."
The bookseller fisted his hands. "I don't have what you're looking for. And even if I did, I wouldn't sell it to you. I've made some inquiries about you..."
A black gloved hand shot out and grasped the old man by the collar. Parrish gargled. "You did what?"
"I have morals, you know. Someone like you is no one to deal with."
Back on my feet, I wondered if I should intervene. The old man was turning a bit blue in the face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other customer make a shooing motion with his hand. He was slowly moving closer to the duo.
The sensible thing, of course, was to leave and call the constable.
I stepped towards the threshold. The new stranger raised a hand and the door slammed as if a strong wind had shut it.
"You might have morals, Parrish, but I don't. I have no scruples. Even if it means that after I get my book, I have to get rid of some witnesses."
Sorcerer. I suppose at this point, I could have screamed like a little girl. But that would have just brought more trouble.
Just as the stranger started to bring up the hand he used to spell the door shut to start choking Parrish further, the other customer hurled himself at the sorcerer. The sorcerer roared in annoyance and let go of Parrish to make some strange gestures. The bookseller staggered back from the counter, breathing heavily, before slipping to the floor in a faint.
The customer ignored the sorcerer's hand waving and lunged again, getting the man into a head lock. The tricorn tumbled to the floor. I gripped my umbrella and looked for an opening.
The two men seemed to be muttering at each other between wheezing breaths. Did the two know each other? Who cared? I swung my umbrella and it connected with the back of the sorcerer's neck. But instead of rendering him unconscious, it seemed to enrage him, and with a burst of sudden strength, he flung the tweed-wearing customer in my direction. I landed flat on my back with what seemed like an entire set of encyclopedias on top of me.
"Don't get in my way," the blond sorcerer warned.
"Does it matter?" The lump on top of me retorted. "You're going to kill us anyway."
"That's great of you to put that idea into his head," I mumbled. "Because maybe before he thought to spare us before." Before I could shove the oaf off to emphasize my point, he got up himself to face the other man.
The sorcerer point a finger and the other customer shoved his right sleeve up to reveal his forearm. Something quick and light erupted from the sorcerer's finger and seemingly bounced off the other man's arm when he raised it to eye level. I scrambled up in disbelief. Were there actual black characters appearing on that customer's skin?
"You're one of the Keys!" the sorcerer hissed, his glittering eyes narrowing in anger. "No wonder."
The sorcerer sneered at us as if we were beneath his notice. Or rather that the other book was beneath his notice. What were the odds of encountering a book that was like me? But I shoved the speculations aside. There were more important things to be concerned about. Like the apparently homicidal sorcerer in our midst.
"I should have known one of your kind would have shown up sooner or later," the sorcerer said, his mouth curving maliciously. "Do you want to know what I did to another Key a few years ago when it got in my way?"
"Not particularly," the other customer, the "Key", replied.
The sorcerer raised his hands, fingers outstretched. "Very well then. None of you have ever had a sense of humor anyway." Sparks flew from his fingers, deceptively harmless like the sparklers children handled during holidays, but some great force followed, shoving the Key back.
He stumbled backward, hitting me with a wayward arm on his way down. For the second time within moments, I was sprawled on the floor. Again.
"Hey, are you a klutz or something?" I huffed. Something was digging into my lower back. A stray book probably. I should have ran directly to Scotland Yard. This was an ignoble position to be in.
"Miss, would it hurt you to be quiet for just one moment?" the Key groaned.
"No, but I don't like to miss a moment to complain."
The sorcerer waved his arm and another invisible wind struck the Key, sending him sliding next to the shelf by the proprietor's counter.
"Mouthy," he told me, even though he was eyeing the sorcerer who was in the middle of waving another attacking spell.
I let out an exasperated breath. Only an idiot would waste air trying to argue at me at this particular juncture. I managed to crawl toward the Key, hopefully not in such a conspicuous manner as far as I could tell—since the sorcerer still had his gaze fixed on the Key. Fortunately for the moment, I had not revealed anything, appearing still as a simple human, easily ignored.
Just as the sorcerer reached back as if to grab an invisible object to be hurtled, I reached out and grabbed the Key by his argyle covered ankles. I could feel him jerk under my fingers and his gaze switched from the sorcerer to me. "What are you doing? What are you?"
The sorcerer let go of his invisible weapon and for a split second, I saw a sickly green-yellow sphere of energy hover above his fingers before dissipating toward our direction.
"Take it," I hissed.
The Key narrowed his eyes, an odd almost colorless glimmer in the dim store light. But I could feel my energy seeping into him.
Something ricocheted past the Key's magical shield, rendering part of it blue-black as if a flying rock had bruised a knee in some magical space-plane. The invisible weapon briefly became visible again and I saw it fly towards the sorcerer as if it had been targeted like a returning spell. The sorcerer quickly blocked it, but he also growled under his breath—a curse, perhaps.
"We're evenly matched," the Key said lowly. "It's a stalemate. He will have to retreat first since..."
Before I could utter a warning, the sorcerer grinned with some sort of internal realization and suddenly threw a spell about the room which rattled the furniture and whipped loose paper about like a frenzy. Everyone else was thrown around like rag dolls. The unnatural wind forced me against the wall near the door and made sure to pin me down with the Key's body, whose ankle I was still gripping.
And then there was a horrible screeching sound. A nearby bookshelf of reference books tumbled over the top of us. A particularly sharp edged dictionary struck my temple. And I knew no more.
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