Is a "sword" a euphuism? (BL)

The desk of Charles' study was crowded with notes, building plans, and maps, both for this house and for the gated community for it was supposed to be the flagship house. There were also several office supplies, like pens and similar things, and a ritual dagger.

I had asked Archer earlier to make me a projection of an Azoth blade, to help me with planned work. The dagger was a copy of one Tokimi gave his apprentice Kirei, and one false priest used to literary stab his teacher in the back, and then gave it to me. The original I suppose remained in that World. Or it could be a copy of that dagger from any alternative timelines we have visited. Or even a composite. He was getting better at making such amalgams.

The grip fitted perfectly in my hand, but I should not expect anything else from my partner's work. At least when it came to blades. By circulating my Od through a ritual dagger, it showed that it was very compatible with me.

Before setting the wards, I had to check how much land Charles owned. My deep mystical bond with the land was based on ownership. I could have no dissenting claims.

Browsing his papers showed why he had been so desperate to land that investor. Charles had bought not only Maitlands' house, the hill it stood on but also a lot of surrounding land. Enough to start building his planned gated community.

Not enough to finish though. Money for buying the rest of the land needed for the project, as well as the cost of construction of the buildings, Charles planned to get from investors.

That was the reason he had invited Maxie Dean for dinner tonight. Certainly, not for his company. That tended to be rather unpleasant.

How did I know that? After all, I have never met him.

The longer I possessed Charles, the more I could gain glimpses of his mind. It did make it easier to pretend that I was him. On the other hand, it did affect my judgment a little.

Maxie was a man of many faults, which were all outshined by his singular virtue. He was rich. Actually, he was so rich that if Prosperity Gospel was true, he was a man truly beloved by God.

Not that Charles expected to gain all the money he needed just from Maxie. But where Maxie invested others would follow.

With Maxie's investment, Charles' plans for the gated community would certainly succeed, without it, they would likely fail.

If those plans failed, Charles would be left with a lot of land which no one would be interested in buying.

In that, Lydia was quite unfortunate. There was no way that she and her father would return to their old home in New York.

More importantly, I have found the boundaries of the land that Charles owned. They were much less the maximum amount I could cover with wards, but quite sufficient for now, especially since I could not leave the house.

With that information, I could set the wards, but before I began doing that, there was something beneficial to do first.

A technique for hunting the devil, I learned at summer camp. It was a simple idea, invite the Holy Spirit in and be perfected by union with the divine. It was also the best reinforcement spell I knew. Not only did the push my body almost to the limit that was possible, but it also improved my spiritual attributes in the same way. All of them.

But its requirement was a bit of a problem. It required divinity. Substituting Illuvatar for Yahweh had been easy, but what to use in this World?

There was no evidence of divinity here. The Handbook for Recently Deceased spoke of neither Heaven nor Hell. Sinners and Saints alike ended up in the same Netherworld. There were no Gods or Judges of the dead, no Granma Meng, and paths to rebirth. There was nothing but humans, living and dead. There was no justice only death.

And that may be truly just. For what temporal vice merited eternal pain, and what temporal virtue merited eternal bliss? And what would be the point of a lesson that was constantly forgotten?

But it did present me with a problem. How to find God?

If only had my trusty hand-held radio. Listening to the wisdom of the divine was easy when they had radio channels. I loved progressive theology.

Regrettably, my radio attuned to the higher powers was probably lying next to my body or was destroyed with it.

I did remember how to make a crystal detector attuned to divinity, base technology for both radios and sirens. I learned that at the same summer camp as the transformation sequence. And for missing material, well that was what Projection Magecraft was for.

But once I made such a special crystal radio set, the only thing I could catch were mundane channels. There were no messages from above in it. Finally, a rational universe. Or my skill with that brand of magecraft was lacking. 

But it did present me with a problem.

Maybe I should just abandon a transformation sequence? It wasn't necessary for my plans.

No. Not so quickly.

But what to use? Should I try just believing in myself?

Or maybe…

Yes…

That was an idea. There was a suitable replacement for divinity that existed beyond the axis of space and time and probability. The origin and record of all phenomena. The Root of Akasha.

It was quite a suitable object of worship for a Magus.

I called upon a memory that I could neither remember nor forget, of almost touching it. And once more I was elevated by it.

Much better than Holly Spirit.

Empowered, I continued the preparations. What I needed to do before raising wards was to secure a working space.

Aria was the term used for an activity necessary for the activation of magecraft. Verbal incantations were most common, but there were others, like for example spitting, pointing an index finger, or carving a symbol on the door with a ritual blade. In that way, I set a simple aversion Boundary Field, so I wouldn't be interrupted while working. It was weak, but magnitudes stronger than the one I set for last night, sufficient to keep everyone, living and not, in the house, save Archer, away from Charles' study.

Now that I had a safe space to do the rite, I could begin raising wards. As it was a family secret, the exact process of raising them would have to remain a mystery. Just to be known, it didn't include any sex with any horses.

This was the second time I had set those wards. With my new experiences as a ghost, I could sense that it was somewhat similar to possession. I and the land became one, and I could feel it, the same as could feel the borrowed flesh. And there was more to it them before. Perhaps it was due to my new abilities as a ghost.

From the least wraith to Heroic Spirits, the ghost had the ability to turn their thoughts into real objects, whether it was just some blood on the mirror or something much greater as Noble Phantasm. It was that mystery that Projection Magecraft recreated.

Consequently, the land grew a bit spookier, filled with strange mists. I felt that I could push it more but had little desire to do so.

But the house was most affected by the process. There were many changes, some subtle, like the sudden addition of concealed lashing rings everywhere, or new books in the study. Some less so, like new rooms, or little changes in décor. And some utterly obvious, like the new inhabitants.

They emerged from the shadows and dark corners. Two I could see in this room, and I could feel about six or seven in the rest of the house.

"Answering your call, we come to serve, master," one of them spoke to me. He, although it was hard to tell, looked like a young, effeminate man, dressed in a butler outfit. Brown hair, and brown eyes. Pretty but not overly so. There was another, just like him, but dressed like a French maid.

"What are you?' I asked.

"Servants, master."

"And how can you serve me?"

"Domestic and personal, master. We are to maintain and clean the house, furniture, and clothes, cook and serve food, help you, and those you designate, dress, bathe, and other personal needs. Feel free to ask for anything. If it is within our purview we will do best to satisfy."

"There is an important dinner, prepare the house for guests. And then you will cater it. I already have a cook. Ask, and if needs any assistance provide it."

"As you command master."

"Bring me lunch here. I have work to do."

It was time to work on crystals I had borrowed from Dalia. Although word borrowed, implied I would eventually return them. That was unlikely. The jewel magecraft I practiced excelled in turning gemstones into consumable Mystic Codes. The keyword being: consumable.

Turning one or more gemstones into a pseudo Mystic Code by this method generally had two steps: preparation and charging. And there was also activation, but not something like this.

Preparation consisted of altering the gemstone to be receptive to a specific flavor of magical energy. It was the first time in my memory that I would be doing this step without my Magic Crest. It was currently unavailable to me. I believed that it remained with my body, as it was designed. It was a feature that allowed crests to be recovered from the bodies of dead Magi.

There was no proof of Crest was there, or that I could recover my former body. The Otherworld could be destroyed, or just the body with it.

But I had to believe. To lose the Magic Crest was unthinkable. Even if it had served its purpose. The ambition of Tohsaka had been fulfilled. I had reached the Root.

Still, I held the hope of recovering it, even if I had no reason to.

As Kirei had taught me that hope was a lie we tell ourselves, while magecraft was a lie we tell the world. But sometimes was better to embrace an untruth, for a time.

I had probably done it before without Magic Crest. Certainly, during the time I had first learned magecraft under Tokimi. But those memories were lost to me. Even now when my memories come from my soul alone. Although others had become crystal clear, memories of Tohsaka Rin still began in a hospital bed.

There was more to that injury than I knew before. More than just flesh.

I knew the spells. Even if I could have cast them from Magic Crest, just by running Od through appropriate circuits, knowing the theory made results better and made it possible to add my own insights.

I took a piece of draft paper and began to draw a formula. Without Crest, I needed all the details. The fifth version was one I decided to use. Perhaps because while I was drafting, I constantly got inspired on how to improve. Minor corrections, but they added on.

I placed each of the three gemstones, in an appropriate place. Quartz on the tip of the triangle furthest from me, bloodstone to the left point, and last one to the last point.

I activated the formula and the gemstones started to glow and then almost seemed to liquefy. The luminescent mass flowed together in the center and reformed into a humanoid figurine, the size of a finger. I Named it Little Charles.

Now for the next part. Once I got the paper. This was certainly much easier with my Crest. With Crest, blood would be necessary.

I set the paper underneath to catch spilled blood, then I cut the palm of my left hand. I grasped Little Charles into the bloody hand and began chanting.

I did not stop until Little Charles was filled to the brim with magical energy. By that time my hand had healed, with just a fading line on my palm. It was already working.

And looking closer I saw a tiny crack on the doll's ring hand. It would only get worse. As Charles' body improved, the Little Charles would deteriorate until it crumbled.

Jasper, I made it into a ring. There was some unused aluminum siding in the house, more precisely in the attic which I used for metal parts. Aluminum was not mithril, but it was similar enough for this. I did not invest much time, effort, or essence, so the ring held no great power. But that only meant that relatively safe for Delia to use. Highly unlikely to turn her into a wraith.

And for moldavite, originally, I had just planned to turn it into simple insurance. A spirit trap for only being in the house potentially powerful enough to derail my plans. Not counting Archer, since he was aboard with my plan.

But before I could start, the piece of moldavite whispered to me, "The stone that fell to earth was an emerald that adorned Lucifer's forehead. It was cut into the shape of a bowl by a faithful angel, and thus the Grail was born."

That was promising. It was possible to consider moldavite, due to both its appearance and unearthly origin, like an emerald for the sky. And I did have a wish. And not a very demanding one.

Of course, it was not that simple, so I was on my twelfth potential draft when Archer arrived with lunch.

"There was no need for you to come yourself," I said, looking him over. He had found the butler's suit, somewhere. But I could spot subtle modifications, tightness in certain places, a bow tie that was actually a collar, and subtle additions to his cuffs, that would make tying him very easy. Nice.

"I needed it. Whatever you have conjured, does not have the privilege of serving you personally, Master," He gently removed my work and began to set the table. Among the food, there was another dose of a mana potion.

Good, I had spent a lot of Od. I would need a refill.

"So, will you come to dress me as well for the dinner?" I asked.

"Certainly. I have already prepared a suit for you to wear for the occasion," he said.

I breathed in the delicious scents. It had been a long time since we played this game. I missed it.

I ate using small, elegant bites. It was delicious torment. But that was the point. He would present a temptation, a meal fit a king. Literary, since he had used such to feed royalty before.

And my part would be to present the image of an ice prince, a picture of restrained elegance. He was by my side during the whole meal. Officially to serve me, but in truth, he was hoping to catch any break that his delicious masterpieces would make in my iron discipline: a soft almost obscene moans of pleasure, unseemly haste in taking the next bite. I took special care to slowly gulp the mana potion, and then when finished sensuously lick my lips.

Some of the games we loved to play were fit for polite society. That made them no less naughty.

From the pleased smirk on his face, he counted this one as his win. But such contests were best won by losing, believably.

Still, I would have to punish him for presumption. And I would have to reward him for an excellent lunch. It was good I knew how to combine those two things.

"Have you bought a rope?" I asked. Already planning to tie those hidden cuffs, to hidden rings.

"No."

"We could improvise." There were other things we could use. I could tie his hands with his shirts, which as a bonus would leave his pecks on display. Maybe bite his nipples a little.

"No. We are not going to fuck."

"What!?" From the tent in his pants, I could see that he was also in the mood. So, why?

"Not in the borrowed bodies, not again. That was a mistake. If we are to have a foursome, I want all participants conscious and willing."

Conscience. It could be so annoying. But he was as often right. It would be better with consent.

"Then you would be glad I have found a possible solution for our problem."

"See. You can work really fast when you are properly motivated."

"How do you feel about a short and victorious Holy Grail War?"

"Whenever someone started a war, that they believed to be both short and victorious, it was often neither. How do you plan to summon Servants? What about the grail itself? And where will get enough mana for all of that to work?"

"I plan to use substitutes." And then I explained what I had planned. It was a quite technical explanation, but he should be able to follow it.

"Can that really work?" he asked after I finished talking. He did not sound as if he had much faith in what I had proposed, but then it had some dubious parts.

"I am optimistic about it. And if it fails, we could try something else. As long as you win. It has to be a somewhat fair contest."

"I cannot guarantee that. There is no certainty in combat, and I never saw him fight. But I will follow your lead in this."

"Let us finish our preparations. We will begin at dinner. A few hints, and me being more myself and less Charles."

"Is that wise? Wouldn't be better to cancel, or wait until they leave?"

"Exact timing depends on Lydia, on her powers of observation. And if we wait too much the sacrifice may stop sulking and wander off."

"That could be a bit problematic. But it could happen anyway. What about guests?"

"They don't matter. I would like to make sure Charles gets the investment he wants, but it is not essential. And if they see something they should not… Well, that is an easily solvable problem."

"Still, it is an inelegant solution. How about canceling the dinner?"

"No, that would leave Charles destitute once we leave. That would be just bad manners." I sighed. "Very well. I will allow Lydia to eat in her room. She was not very interested in attending anyway. And I will eliminate other variables so that everything can proceed as planned."

"For all of your complaining about ten Holy Grail Wars we participated in, I beginning to think that you have gotten a bit addicted."

After saying that he gathered the tableware, and left, while I returned to planning.

The twentieth formula proved viable. I still had some time left so spent some reviewing Charles' notes about the house, and gated community project, for dinner with a potential investor.

Everything was nearly ready. Archer was preparing a twelve-course meal and knowing him it would be beyond a professional grade. I have acquired, unplanned for but not unwelcome, serving staff. The house was ready for inspection too. There was just the matter of dinner entertainment. Or rather canceling it.

No matter how amusing was to watch that on a movie screen, revealing exitance life after death to Maxie Dean was a profoundly stupid idea. He would almost certainly do something ridiculous, like open a supernatural amusement park or try building a personal pyramid to take his wealth with him to the other side.

I could remove his memory of the event afterward, but why bother? Prevention was always better than a cure. And I did have some use for an undead couple.

White and black. Wedding dress and a suit. Fire and salt. A pentagram within the circle was drawn in white crystals, a candle on each point, lit.

"Hands vermillion, start of five. Bright cotillion, raven's dive. Nightshade's promise, spirits strive. To the living let now the dead come alive"

I loved trying out the new spells. This one came from the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. My copy was with Lydia, on my smartphone, but I recalled every word I had read. The benefit of thinking with my soul, rather than with my brain.

The clothes rose upwards and began to fill up. First legs, then arms, and in the end heads.

"What?" said Barbara floating in a white dress.

"What?" said Adam floating in a black suit.

"You are rather bad at this," I commented, "You should have said something like this: WHO DARES SUMMONS ME!!"

A sound of thunder followed.

They cowered. I may have overdone it. Still, they were an embarrassment to specters everywhere.

"Never mind." I continued, "I expect you're wondering why I've gathered you all here today." I paused for a moment, giving them time to reply. "Are you two all right?"

"You can see us? How is that possible?" Adam asked.

"The séance makes you visible to the living. Usually, it had also the side effect of exorcising the ghost summoned, but I had fixed that. As long as you remain in the circle you are safe."

"Ouch!" Barbara cried in pain as she tried to push her hand outside the circle and the barrier shocked her.

"I have also made the barrier impenetrable by ghosts. Safety first is a lesson I well learned while practicing bondage."

"Bondage!?" Adam squeaked.

"Adam, look," Barbara added.

Ornate, stylish décor almost managed to hide the purpose of the room. But there was just a smidgen too many whips and chains, as well as a cage and spanking bench to reveal the true purpose of the room.

"I didn't summon you into my sex dungeon to play. Unless you are interested?"

"We are married, sir!" Adam exclaimed.

"What does that have to do with anything? I invited you both. But no matter. I can take no for an answer. I summoned you here because you have died in this room."

"This is the basement?"

"Yes. Obviously, I had it remodeled. This house needed a lot of that."

"It did not. It was perfectly fine classic Victorian with the original crown molding."

"It lacked a sex dungeon, so obviously there was something wrong with it."

"…"

"…"

"Let's agree to disagree. Now before to the reason for which I have summoned here. It was mainly to keep you occupied during the formal dinner I would be having soon. I am sorry to say this, but you are not invited."

"I have never been not-invited to a dinner," Adam said, "It is surprisingly hurtful."

"Did you need to do all of this?" Barbara asked, "And how do you know how to summon ghosts?"

"I am in real estate. Some people won't leave their houses even after they lose their legal ownership of them. For living there are police, but for the dead, I sometimes need to resort to necromancy." I lied. I was quite good at it. The trick was to keep your explanations somewhat plausible, but strange enough to be confusing.

"But I thought you could not see us?" Adam asked.

"Not without séance. To see ghosts, one needs to be strange and unusual, and that makes selling houses difficult. So, I need to rely on rituals and spells. And for your other question, I suppose I could have placed a sign no dogs or ghosts allowed, but that would be no guarantee that you would not party crash."

"I never party crashed in my life," Barbara said offended.

"I did once, in college" Adam confessed.

"Adam, you never told me that."

"Well, it was more of a misunderstanding…"

"I am sure it was riveting. But let us keep to the topic. The dinner is going to be horror show enough without your inept attempts at haunting it."

"You can't do this," Barbara said.

"I can and I did. It was actually a pretty easy spell. I just needed something of yours, and a short chant. Anyone smart enough to switch tires on a car could do it."

"I meant you shouldn't," Barbara said.

"Yes! What about our rights?" Adam asked.

"You are dead. You have none. And this was for your own good too. Usually, your attempts at haunting are not a problem. Lydia likes you for some strange reason. She probably wouldn't have given time of day while you have been alive, but teenagers are shallow like that. And worse Delia would do to you was proclaim you her spirit guides. While mildly unpleasant to you it would be hilarious to watch. But I have guests tonight. If you draw attention like that you could end exorcised."

"Exorcised?" Barbara asked in a trembling voice.

"Fate much worse than just being dead. So, I will leave hanging here to reflect on your behavior. It may be a hard lesson, but you need to learn before you get yourself in trouble."

"Wait? Is this an intervention?" Adam asked, confused.

"We don't need one!" Barbara firmly said.

"I strongly disagree. And please think about how we could all cohabit in this house. This will make you miss dinner, which is the point, but I had some Beurre noisette prepared for you. You would not be able to eat it, but at least you can look and smell it."

"That was nice of you?"

"With extra sage!" I added in a villainous voice.

"You monster!" Adam exclaimed.

There was not actually too much sage. Archer would never intentionally make bad food.

Archer dressed me in a combination of a collared shirt and dress trousers, all tucked away and made neat with a belt. There was one little thing missing. With a flick of my hand, my riding crop materialized in my hand. Perfect.

Just in time for guests.

"Presenting, Maxie Dean, and company," one of the servants announced. I really could not tell them apart. Even female and male ones.

"CHUCK!!! You old swaddler! Put 'er there!" a short, fat, and bald man exclaimed and hugged me. That was Maxie. The things one must suffer for money. It was truly the root of all evil.

"Maxie! I'm so glad you could make it!" And I made deep and profound eye contact then with just a touch of hypnotism added. "You have to tell me what you think of my new house."

But before he would reply we interrupted three men.

"Charles Deetz!" The first one said.

"Hello!" The second one added.

"Charles." The third said.

These men were not unfamiliar to me. I didn't remember their names since it was not significant. What mattered was their profession.

"You brought your legal team?" I asked Maxie.

"I'm rich. Chuck, I never leave home without them," he said, treating it as a joke, and then he laughed at his own humor. The only female in his party joined him. She was new. I did not recognize her from Charles' memories. There was something empty in her laughter like she had no idea why she was doing it and was just mimicking Maxie. "Oh, speaking of luggage, have you met my fourth wife?"

"OH STOP! He is so mean to me! I'm his fifth wife!" the woman who came with him said. There was no point in describing her. She didn't matter, none of his wives ever did. Maxie was the star of the show that was his life and would not tolerate any competition.

I sighed and said, "You know if you are introducing your wife, you should mention her name sometimes."

"It is Maxine," he said rolling his eyes.

"Was that the name of your fourth wife?" I asked.

"Naturally. I firm believer that a wife should husband's name in marriage and saw no need to stop at the last one."

I introduced Delia. "This is Delia, my daughter's live-in life coach."

"So you are calling it that," he said and winked.

And what was worse he was right. Delia and Charles had been intimate. And her use in helping Lydia was questionable. There was but one word for that. But I had no problem with prostitution. I even indulged in myself. Not a client, and not with humans. Other things had more interesting payments.

Delia blushed and greeted them with, "Namaste."

And Maxine happily replied with, "Oo! Tiramisu!"

"Oh, don't mind her." Maxie excused her and then seemed to brag, "My baby got a body that doesn't quit and a brain that doesn't work!"

"See?" she said, "So mean. But, it's true, I was kicked in the head by a dressage horse."

For some reason, I was beginning to think that Maxie considered that injury feature instead of a bug.

It was apparent he was really suffering from affluenza. There was just one cure. And I was going to administer it. By the time this dinner was done, he would be investing every last cent of his into this project. We may have to build a city.

"About this house," Maxie said, "Now that I think about it. It is nicer than I thought it would be. But it is still the middle of nowhere. Location. Location. Location."

It had worked, with some delay.

"Let me try to change your mind over dinner. The first course is shrimp, your favorite."

"Great idea, I'm famished." He said and once we were seated, he added, "Say, Chuck, didn't you used to have a daughter?"

"Lydia would be taking dinner in her room. No need to bore her."

"Is there a place for one more?" the young girl spoke from above.

I looked up and saw a figure dressed in black leather and silks, a bondage version of widow wear. There was even and whip on her belt. Even if her face was covered by a black lace veil, I recognized Lydia's voice.

What did she get that kind of clothes?

"I thought that you were eating in your room. You did ask me for it."

"I changed my mind. It is woman's prerogative." There was a trace of a growl in her voice.

She was a little young to call herself a woman, but I could see that she was trying to incite a confrontation. She was angry but not at me. I wondered how I knew that. Her face was veiled. Maybe it was body language. She was holding her elbows wide from the body, chest thrust out. And when she spoke, she made sweeping arm gestures.

But I was not the one to notice such things. I could when tried, but I rarely bothered. Could it be Charles' influence? Doubtful from what I saw in their interactions. But I didn't have a better explanation.

"You are also not wearing the dress Delia had prepared for you. What did you get a new one?"

"New servants you hired are quite accommodating. They helped me choose something more… me," my semi-daughter defiantly said.

But before I could say anything Maxie interrupted me saying, "Lydia! What an effervescent young lady you are. Your father was trying to hide you from us. What's the matter, Chuck? Afraid I'd marry her?"

"And he'll do it!" his wife added. Then she laughed. There was something about her mirth that was disturbing. "He'll do it."

Maxie thought himself to be untouchable, and yet I could end him with almost no effort. Drown him in quicksilver or if I wanted them to be of some use, just cast Spier's Kiss and harvest them both for magical power. Or if I wanted to be subtle, use hypnosis to order Maxie to kill himself. Cut his own throat with a dinner knife, or car accident after they left.

I didn't do any of these things. I just smiled and spoke. "Over his dead body." Both of them paled and gripped the chairs. Dalia gasped and Lydia took a step back. I might have overdone it again.

I pushed my anger down, and calmly commanded, "Let's eat."

All of them obeyed in silence, and I focused on enjoying the excellent meal, and further calming myself. I should just have hypnotized everyone and be done with it. But that would be a waste of the meal Archer made.

Silence did not last that long. Only a single course.

"You look ten years younger, Chuck, " Maxie said while the soup was being served. "You got to tell your secret."

It was hard to see with the veil, but I think Lydia looked at me.

"It is the county air. Believe it. That is why I have chosen this place for a new gated community."

"There are also crystals you borrowed from me," Delia chipped in. Even a broken clock was right at least two times a day. "As my guru Otho, always says, you can't buy health, but you can buy crystals."

I thought it was happiness. Otho had a lot to say, I was beginning to think that he was charging by word.

That broke the silence, and diner conversation resumed. I used to plant more suggestions in Maxie's mind.

"… would like to live here…"

"…there is a large interest in gated communities…"

"…want a house just like this…"

"…I am going to make a large profit…"

By the time for dessert, I was optimistic about a potential investment.

"You like horses too," Maxine said to me.

"What?" I asked.

"Riding crop, it is a very nice one." She tried to explain.

"Thank you I made myself. It is a hobby."

"What I meant, only someone who likes to ride horses very much would carry it on dinner."

Ancalmiquë was not a whip one would use on a horse, not unless one planned to get much closer to the stallion in question.

"I do not ride… horses," I said, quoting Dracula. The movie version. I did not remember Vlad saying anything like that. And I met two different versions of him, one of which was a teenager.

Dalia blushed and looked at the whip with interest. Maxie laughed aloud.

"So, donkeys then?" Maxie blithely asked, missing the subtext, and making the situation much worse.

Lydia saved me from further embarrassment, but not in the way I expected.

"You! You are not my father!" she shouted as she rose from her seat and pointed a finger at me accusingly.

"Time Stop." With those words and a dash of magical energy, I made Delia, Maxie, Maxine, and the lawyers freeze in place. "We should do this without witnesses."

And then for the sake of drama, I began to float. From the shadow faceless monk emerged, chanting in Latin. You can't have such a scene without ominous Latin chanting.

Lydia recoiled for a moment, but the seemed to gather her courage and defiantly said "Where is my father?"

"He is here. Deep within me. But how did you guess that?"

"Your favorite whip. Have you forgotten that you have shown me it before, Mercury?"

Embarrassingly I did. All of my complicated plans, and I just needed to brag about Ancalmiquë.

"That name. You will forget it." The veil she wore made eye contact impossible, but it was still within my skills to insert a simple command. If she was a Magus, it would be easy for her to overturn it. Since she was not, it should last long enough. Any exorcism listed in Handbook for Recently Deceased had the name of the ghost as a required ingredient.

"What was that," she said, shaking her veiled head, "Let my father go!"

"And why would I do that, pumpkin," I asked placing my fingertips together. No, I was not about to cry excellent. It was just a gesture that I used to cast a spell I named Cat's Cradle.

Cat's Cradle was a spell belonging to True Magic. Similar to Bounded Fields it was topological magic, but much more potent, and not limited to concepts of inside and outside.

"Don't call me that!" She cried out, "You have no right! Take me instead."

"You a bit young and female for me, pumpkin." I spread my hands, the space twisted around them forming strange translucent strings wound around my hands. With a few twists and turns, I rearranged it into a more complex shape. The room twisted with it. The basement door was now under Lydia's feet, and she fell through it.