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Hex Files 2: Ripped Lees Believe it or Not
Stranger in a Pane
|Damien glided gracefully down from the gilded golden frame of HIS mirror. He walked casually onto the surface of the tar-lined rooftop… with much less alliteration.
The Skyline of the city shimmered over his shoulder and the great towers of modern industry stretched around him. The tall ornate mirror stood in the center of his building’s rooftop, reflecting back the dark night sky.
It was a testament to his ridiculous power that he could project himself over countless miles as easily as others would dial a cell phone. A testament to both the power…and the problem…
Damien carelessly waved a hand and the shimmering surface of the glass returned to its natural state.
He paused and reflected, both literally and figuratively.
Mr. Heart? The Club? Ugh that…sleazy club…But that was a conundrum for another day. Right now, he had more pressing problems…
He stroked his jaw and wondered idly if he had something to do with poor Lee’s current predicament. It was difficult to judge… he had only made an off hand comment to the boy… and hadn’t intended anything…
He was very relieved he had decided to check up on the kid, he had had a nagging feeling like something might be wrong… he honestly hadn’t intended to affect the kid and still…
Yet that seemed to be a reoccurring anomaly of late. Even when he wasn’t trying anything …things seemed to be happening anyway. It was taking his full concentration to NOT use his powers.
He sighed darkly. It was his own fault really, his grandmother had always had one incessant warning for him and his sisters, (aside from, “always get the gentlemen’s name and address”) and that was: to use Magic is to become a conduit for power, the easier it becomes for you to use it, the easier it becomes for it to use you.
Which brought him back to his current plight, “SPIT AND HADES” Damien swore.
Power crackled under the surface of his mirror. His anger stoked the fire beneath his skin. The magical energies, which were barely in check, beat against the threshold of materialization.
Damien Vaughn was in serious trouble.
After breaking free of his prison and resuming the use of his magic’s, he had made a frightening discovery. He was too powerful. He could barely control the magic’s that he had once struggled to muster. Now, he feared that if he didn’t gain control of them…they would inevitably begin to control him.
And that was why he was traipsing around the uncivilized world seeking advice from every hedge wizard, shaman, oracle and local mystic from Calcutta to West Virginia looking for help. Racking up the frequent flier miles and chasing bloody shadows…
“DAMIEN VAUGN You old fool.” How could he have missed it? It was like ignoring the invisible runes on a door right in front of him!
He had destroyed all the original texts in the fire he set the night he left Gino… and even though his rare and priceless collection of antique scrolls, papyrus and manuscripts had been destroyed… there Shadows still existed…
Every Witch kept a Book of Shadows… His or her own… cliff-notes version of spells and rituals. A book of personalized notes and thoughts to “shadow” the real texts…
All he had to do was track down his notebooks and try to find some answer to his problem.
And he knew just witch one to start with.
He pulled a sleek black phone from his hoody pocket and dialed a familiar, if not often used number. Convention called for a misty crystal ball and not a cellular. Crystal ball’s however tended to get terrible reception when the sky was overcast and it was bloody awkward trying to leave a message.
As it was, no one answered the Phone either.
“HEY this is Ally - call back okay!” there was an infectious little giggle at the end.
Damien rolled his eyes heavenward. She could be so cute it could make you simply want to vomit. But what else was he to expect from… “The Good Witch of the South.”
“Listen up Galinda. You got something I want. So I’m going to come down for a visit. …Call me k?”
He was all set for his next adventure. He could get back one of his books and have a quick visit with his youngest sister.
Damien smiled triumphantly into the black, inky mirror pane!
…… but felt his resolve wither at what he saw.
The only recognizable feature that reflected back was his bright blue eyes. The rest was just dark shapes and outlines. That was the danger of mirror magic… soon you began to loose yourself in the mirror. It had been months since Damien had seen a clear reflection of himself in ANY mirror… but that had not dissuaded him from using the mirrors…
He had thought that it was very appropriate that he was dependant on his “Magic Mirror”.
He was after all, when everything was said and done, a Wicked Queen.
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