In a Bottle... Ch. 08

Alan stood for a long time trying to think of what he would do with Winifrey. She was unconscious for now, but still alive. When she came to her senses she would be twice as dangerous. He only promised the Master Genie that he would deal with the magi. He had never said that he would kill them. He was morally okay with taking a life to save the life of another if it came to that, but she wasn't a threat to anyone at the moment.

Alan took in a breath and let it out slowly, looking around to clear his head. He had nearly forgotten everything: His mission to find the magi, his encounter with the Master Genie, even his genies waiting for him at the apartment. If her mind-altering spell had been that powerful, he would need some way to protect himself. He searched around her desk until he found a sharpie and a roll of tape in a drawer.

Alan walked back over to Winifrey and wrote directly on her face in bold letters, 'I WILL KILL YOU ALAN.' Now that he knew what kind of spells to expect from her, he figured that would be enough of a deterrent to keep him from trusting her in case she managed to catch him off guard again. He used the tape to bind her wrists and elbows behind her back before hefting her up onto his shoulders. He had to remind himself that she was dangerous when her naked flesh pressed against him with the weight of her limp form.

Unsure who might see him outside, Alan used his magic to create the illusion that he was carrying a couple of couch cushions rather than kidnapping an unconscious naked woman, and then he opened the front door, took her outside, and up the street to his car. He lay her across the back seat before deciding that he should bind her ankles as well. Finally, bending her at the knees, he used the remainder of the roll of tape to attach her wrists to her ankles. He had never been in prison before, but he was pretty sure that their best restraints worked that way.

"Alright, genie," he announced loud enough so he could hear himself. "I hope the oculus is working and you're seeing all of this. I need your help. This woman is dangerous, but I refuse to resort to killing her unless it is the only option. If you could meet me like you did before and use your power to remove her magic or something, that would be ideal."

Alan jogged back inside the building, checking to make sure no one was watching him. Thankfully this part of town never had much activity. The only observers around were abandoned warehouses and a string of lonely brick buildings whose only friends were a sleeping bum and the occasional passing car on the road. It occurred to him that the magi likely chose this location for that very reason. Once he had safely pulled the door closed behind him, Alan covered himself in illusions of invisibility and silence. It had almost become a reflex to hide his presence after everything that had happened in the past few weeks.

Alan rifled through the rest of the belongings on Winifrey's desk hoping to find some clue as to what this place was or who else he might find here. He came up empty handed which only reinforced his idea that this whole building was just a farce.

Alan looked around and saw that there were some offices down the hall--which he could tell were obviously empty thanks to the view afforded by their large bay windows. He peeked around the corner of the hall and found nothing but a dead-end storage room. There was a medieval-style spiral staircase leading up to another floor. It seemed like his best option if he wanted to try and find anyone else.

He ascended the stairs cautiously, keeping his cloak of enchantments around him. Even though it was a slow drain on his energy, he noticed that his practicing had given him a much greater stamina. Or perhaps it was as the Master Genie had said and he had grown from all of the things he had been doing around work to help people out. Either way, if he could keep four people shrouded in invisibility for an afternoon he could certainly do it for most of a day for only himself. When he got to the next floor he glanced around, quickly scanning for any signs of movement. The circular stairs opened into a room which had that musty old church smell, like someone had left the air conditioning on for too long.

Alan explored the room as he left the staircase behind. It appeared as though this was some kind of a study or library. There were several shelves with books of all sizes--ranging from thick tomes to tiny journals no bigger than a pamphlet--and a few tables pressed up against the walls, one of which supported a stack of paperwork taller than any he had ever seen at work. The main area of the room was fairly open with only a few chairs scattered about. An elder man was seated in a leather recliner near the doorway exiting from the right side of the room. His hair, which Alan could tell had at one time been jet black, had streaks of white in it and the skin around his jowls had become looser with age and hung down like a deflated balloon. He was reading one of the thicker hardcover books. Alan began to move closer to get a better look at what he was holding. Somehow he doubted that it was one of the latest New York Times best-sellers.

"I know you're here somewhere, charlatan," the man said, moving to stand. "I can see your signature."

Alan snapped his attention back to the man and took a few steps back. He was taller and thinner than it had seemed while he was sitting. As he stood, his jacket pulled back slightly and a glint of metal at his hip caught Alan's eye.

"I've already taken down two of your magi," Alan warned as he released his silence illusion, keeping his guard up. Immediately he cursed himself and began to craft a new one, thinking back to his practice. He threw an illusion to mimic his voice across the room, hoping to keep the man guessing at his true location. "End this now before I have to go any further."

"Who? Eneros and that slut downstairs? Don't make me laugh." He spat the words out like venom. "He was a pompous fool and she'd sooner take off her clothes than use any real magic to get the job done. I, on the other hand, have personally drained five genies. I'll show you what real power looks like."

"You disgust me," Alan shot back, relocating his voice once more by shifting his enchantment. "I've heard about the way you pull the souls from genies for your own personal gain. You're no different than a serial killer on death row."

Without further hesitation Alan decided to put an end to this altercation. The last enchantment he had crafted had been particularly effective on Winifrey, so Alan focused on that same sensation of extreme dizziness and did his best to weave the enchantment directly into the man's inner ear.

Before the mage had a chance to react he toppled over sideways as though someone had pulled the carpet out from under him-

Without warning the shimmer blossomed forth from him in a great expanding arc that dissipated as quickly as it had emerged. Alan hesitated for a second, waiting for a deadly assault. When none came, he finished crafting his enchantment and did his best to weave it directly into the man's inner ear.

The man ducked behind one of the long wooden tables where Alan couldn't focus on him. Alan was surprised at the quick reaction. The old mage had said something about his signature, maybe he had heightened senses and could see when he was forming a spell. Thinking back to previous encounters, Alan realized that he never saw the shimmer of magic until after a spell of some sort had already come into existence. Even then he seemed to miss it half of the time. If it wasn't that, then how did this mage dodge so well?

He popped up from behind the table and began making his way towards Alan again, walking in slow weaving steps. He seemed unable to see Alan directly, but was still aware of him. This man was trouble.

Alan glared at the grizzled mage from behind his sheen of invisibility. He was up to something. Nobody had ever displayed that caliber of shimmer without drastically injuring or trying to incapacitate him. Yet for such a significant spell, Alan couldn't notice any ill effects. He refused to ignore his nagging suspicions. He thought back to the different schools of magic that Magik had discussed with him as he continued to move about the room. The old man kept track of him better than he should have been able to while Alan was concealing himself...

His mind mulled over the possibilities while he did his best to keep the mage confused. Was this mind magic similar to what Winifrey had used? Alan was briefly reminded of the deja vu enchantment from the containment chamber. Perhaps it was a spell like that, meant to deter him from the truth. He chastised himself for not trying harder to understand other forms of magic. Was the old man an illusionist himself? No, the shimmer was much too intense for that unless everything around him had been altered--Alan looked around with that thought, inspecting things more closely than before. Everything appeared to be exactly the same as it had when he had ascended the staircase. Whatever magic he had used, it surely wouldn't have a good outcome for Alan.

"You should have gotten out of here after you bested the secretary, scoundrel. Luck won't save you against a seasoned hunter like myself," the old man hissed in his crackly voice, breathing heavily. "Especially with a signature like that."

Alan ignored him and tried again, stitching together a new enchantment for a debilitating migraine. He sent this one at the mage, unsure of what to expect. It connected this time. The mage instantly reached up to grab the sides of his head in pain-

Another shimmer burst forth from the man in a large twisting sphere that was as brilliant as the first before it too vanished abruptly. Alan wasn't quite sure what to expect after his last enchantment, so he chose to inflict a migraine upon the old man. He cast it quickly, hoping to catch him in the midst of whatever magic he was using.

The mage spun, flipping his jacket up in the air to conceal his face, and seemed to bend his body at the waist like he was made of rubber, barely moving his head out of the way of the enchantment once again, before dropping his knee into a tuck-and-roll maneuver.

He always seemed to be a step behind the mage--aiming where he was rather than where he would be--and couldn't land any enchantments. The way he moved was completely unpredictable.

He needed to buy himself more time. Just trying to keep moving wasn't working anymore. Alan could only continue to try and use his magic, he had brought no other weapons. He held his hands up to direct another enchantment at the mage, aiming where he thought he was going instead of at his current location, hoping to best his odd precognition. Unfortunately he missed, and he could tell from the way the mage moved that it had only served to draw more attention to himself.

"You... impotent child. Facing me will be the end... of your arrogance," he said somewhat breathlessly. Alan could see his shoulders moving up and down with each breath as though he had just gone for a run rather than simply rolled across the floor. With one fluid motion, his arm snapped upwards, fingers catching the handle of the gun resting in its holster at his hip, aimed it in Alan's direction, and fired.

Alan flinched as the bullet buzzed right by his head and splintered off a chunk of the bookshelf behind him-

Another burst of magical energy exploded in an arc that seemed to boil out of the mage and swept through the room before quickly retreating back inside of him and vanishing.

Before Alan could ponder what spell he had used this time, the mage's arm slid upwards, his fingers caught the handle of his gun sitting at his hip, and he aimed directly at Alan and fired.

Alan flinched in anticipation when an intense heat suddenly began radiating outward from his chest. He inhaled sharply as the unexpected pain rippled through his body in waves. Time itself seemed to slow and his vision went white for a moment. He winced, closing his eyes until he managed to get a handle on the pain by taking a slow breath. He opened his eyes slowly. Very slowly. Unnaturally slowly.

Alan looked towards the mage and was stunned to see that the flash of gunpowder from the end of his gun was still expanding in slow motion, like watching a star going supernova from millions of light years away. He could still hear the roar from the gun barrel as it echoed through the room with a slow warble. The bullet spun towards him, heading directly for his chest. Alan watched with panic as it drilled its way through the air. He seemed to be unable to move.

No, that was wrong, he was moving. Just very slowly like everything else. Alan jerked his body--as best he could in his current state of time lag--out of the path of the bullet. He felt his muscles tense and pull as he slowly began to drop his left shoulder back, his body rotating sideways with it. The bullet was closing the distance faster than he could move.

It was less than an arm's length away now, still moving so slowly that he felt as though he could reach out and pluck it out of the air. All of his effort was being poured into dragging his body out of the way.

He wasn't quite going to make it.

Alan heard a dull pop as the bullet ricocheted off of his collarbone. His body materialized out of nothingness as he lost control over his enchantment. He watched as it bore into him, painstakingly drilling its way home into the meat of his shoulder. With the sluggish fluidity of time dragging by, he had the displeasure of feeling things tearing inside of him until the angry projectile finally ripped a sizable piece of flesh out of his back on its way out.

Alan was drifting through the air as he tumbled backward. He opened his mouth to cry out in agony but the cry was cut short as the ground suddenly leapt up to meet him and he landed hard on his back. He judged by the frantic beating of his heart that time had resumed its normal flow.

Laying on the ground stunned, Alan gasped through the pain in shallow breaths. He was still alive. At least there was that. He had never been shot before. The pain was awful and seemed to course through his body with each heartbeat. He brought his right hand up to squeeze his wound, and he had to grit his teeth. Pressure brought an entirely new level of razor sharp pain. He let go and his hand came away slick with warm blood. He was shaking--probably from the adrenaline. He blinked at the blood on his hand as it trailed down his forearm. He had almost died. When did blood get so red?

A click nearby announced another round sliding into the chamber of the gun. It was a frighteningly distinct sound that drove terror into his soul and pierced the daze that was clouding his thoughts. The sound of labored breathing was coming closer.

"What have you got there," the mage breathed quietly, almost talking to himself, as he closed the distance between them. He seemed to be interested in something on Alan's shirt.

Vulnerable, laying prone on the floor, he did the only thing he could think of to do. Alan made a maze.

None of his enchantments so far had been able to affect this mage. Somehow he seemed to be able to predict the future and move out of their path. In that case, Alan had to make the future as convoluted as possible.

He started small, making imperceptible changes. He threw up an illusion immediately replicating everything in the room exactly as it was--only slightly skewed by a degree or two. Alan focused his mind through the throbbing ache and gripping fear, taking control of his magic. A distant corner of his mind recognized for the first time since his meeting with the Master Genie that he was borrowing magic from the Earth.

He continued to replicate the room--focusing on the pattern of the floor, the shape of the walls, the way the light from the fire cast about the room--shifting it, each time canted slightly more than the last replication. Five degrees, seven degrees, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, fifty. He layered false copies over false copies, shifting an illusion of his body with the illusion of the room to hide his true location in plain sight. He watched as the mage went for the bait, walking slightly away from him and towards the illusory Alan.

Now close enough to clearly see him on the floor, the old man lifted his gun once more. As he went to aim for the headshot, Alan released the illusion of his body and replicated it, creating two bodies.

The mage hesitated for only a moment and then drew his eyebrows together in a look of resolve and pulled the trigger. The bullet bounced harmlessly off the concrete floor where the original illusion had been.

He spun quickly and fired twice more at each of the newer illusions, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off of the concrete floor-

A shimmering bloom erupted, filling the room for one intense moment before it dissipated. The old mage lifted his gun once more, sweating profusely. He blinked his eyes to clear the drips of sweat from his lashes and cracked off three shots in quick succession. Each one hit nothing but air-

The shimmer blossomed again from the mage, expanding in an unpredictable yet familiar pattern before vanishing as it had each time before. The old man, wheezing violently, raised his gun and fired off a barrage into empty space, missing the illusion that Alan had created by a wide margin--almost as if he knew that it was an illusion and was avoiding it entirely.

The amount of magic coming from the old man was astonishing. If it hadn't been for his chance encounter with the Master Genie, it would have easily surpassed any shimmer he had seen so far. Watching his shimmer was less like watching ripples on the surface of a pond and more like enjoying a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. The old man had gone very pale and now appeared to be on the verge of passing out. Something had happened to him. That last spell must have taken a terrible toll. Alan bifurcated his illusion, creating two bodies instead of one.

Before the mage had a chance to act, Alan bifurcated his illusions again. Now instead of two illusory copies of himself, there were four. He maintained control through the pain this time and decided he could risk pushing himself. He split them again. Now there were eight identical bodies sprawled out on the ground, each bleeding from the shoulder from a gunshot wound.

Alan forced himself up off the ground, leaning heavily on his right arm. He grit his teeth against the pain, knowing that he had a small window and he had to take advantage of it. He was careful to have each copy of himself mimic what he was feeling--which wasn't very difficult considering he was in genuine misery.

"You pesky little rat. Think a simpleton like you... could best a master... like me. By spreading out your... signature... you only... delay... my victory. The odds are... still... in... my favor!"

The mage was bent over slightly, pistol shaking in his hand, trying to catch his breath. He saw all of the clones stand up and start towards him and shook his head to clear his vision. He leveled the gun at one of them and fired.

The bullet hit Alan square in the chest, piercing his lung and throwing thick strings of blood into the air. He staggered back a step before righting himself and continuing to advance forward with the others, ignoring the fatal wound. It was, after all, only an illusion.

The real Alan was standing off to the man's left, forgotten behind a cloak of invisibility and false Alans, pouring his focus into maintaining his intricately woven web of shifting enchantments.

The man grunted in frustration and fired off three more rounds into the crowd of clones, each one eliciting a satisfying spray of blood. Each time, the real bullet doing nothing more than embedding itself harmlessly into a wall or bookshelf. After the third shot, Alan strode over to the man. He arrived at the same time as his illusions and grabbed the gun from behind. The mage struggled as Alan tried to wrench the weapon out of his grip. He held on with more tenacity than Alan was expecting for someone of his age. He fought with the last of his energy, straining to escape the surprise grapple. Alan banished all of his illusions, focusing instead on trying to wrest the gun away and gain the upper hand. His shoulder was screaming at this point and felt like it was being torn open farther and farther the longer their struggle continued. With a mighty pull, he yanked the barrel of the gun upwards so that it was aimed at the man's chin and squeezed the trigger.