Chapter Five

After paying off the cab driver, he eagerly offered to hang around if I still needed his services. All the cabbie cared to remember about were the plentiful Benjamin’s I paid him. Money tended to do that, make folks forget a lot of things like almost having a vampire assassin carve your heart out.

I told him no and started across the campus. The man I came to see kept unusual hours for a college professor. He often lectured from midnight to four in the morning. Amazingly, he maintained a full class each semester. He was a great instructor and I should know I used to be one of his students. And in a way, still was. He taught me more about the supernatural world then I could have learned from dozens of different instructors.

It was in my opinion that the main reason why the university allowed these odd hours was because they were embarrassed by the things he taught. They were considered unorthodox and didn’t fit into what everyone believed as true history and established mythology. At the same time, the prof brought in big bucks for the university either through high enrollments or from mysterious and rich benefactors. So the university allowed him to do his thing at whatever hour he wanted to do them.

I entered the Community Art Auditorium where a security guard stopped me. I showed him my student identification and he allowed me to past. I could be called a career student, I signed up for a class nearly every semester, attending mostly online. I’m not working toward a degree or anything like that, I simply like to learn. I’m fascinated by art, history, science and religion. I can’t get enough of it. That was probably why my old prof and I had become such close friends.

As I had expected, the auditorium was full to capacity. Professor Miles Coltrane stood center stage in the middle of his lecture. His head tilted my way and he smiled as I walked down the aisle. I knew he didn’t see me. The prof lived in perpetual darkness. Though blind, it never seemed to be a hindrance to him. Some even doubted he was really sightless. He hadn’t been born blind. As far as I knew he lost his vision fifteen years ago while traveling in Africa. I’ve never been able to get him to talk about his problem and God knows I tried on many occasions. I love solving mysteries, especially those that involve a friend.  I found wall space to rest my back against and listened to the prof.

“What people call magical spells or incantations are misconceptions. Words can draw power from a form of energy that science has yet to understand. Certain words if spoken in a specific way can evoke this energy and be manipulated by the speaker.”

One student in the audience raised his hand forgetting the man on stage was blind. Looking embarrassed he lowered his hand and shrank into his seat.

Somehow, the prof was aware of the student and glanced his way. “You have a question Mr. Huston?”

The student straightened and cleared his throat. “Ahem, yes Professor Coltrane. What is this energy you’re speaking about called?”

“An excellent question, young man. It’s called Was.”

A striking female student jumped to her feet. “Wait a sec, professor, isn’t Was a scepter carried by deities?”

Professor Coltrane looked her way. “I see all the bright students are here tonight. Here’s a bit of mythology you won’t find in books. Yes, Was is a scepter. At an unknown point in history, an immense battle occurred within the ranks of the great deities. During that mêlée the most powerful of the Was scepters had been destroyed, releasing its energy into our world. Mankind learned to tap into this Was energy and the age of magic began.”

 A man in his late forties, early fifties stood then. “You talk as if all of these events actual happened, Professor Coltrane. Which is ridiculous as is your class. I fail to understand why the school allows you to go on with your rubbish. You foil these students mind with this nonsense!”

The prof grinned. “Ah, Professor Griswold, I thought I smelled your awful cologne.” The auditorium burst into laughter. “I take it you doubt the existence of Was energy?”

“I most certainly do!”

“You need a demonstration?”

“I’ve heard about you performing your parlor tricks around campus. If you think your tomfoolery can impress me, you will be sadly mistaken Professor Coltrane.”

The prof’s grin widened. “As I explained, certain words can evoke the Was energy. Say for example if I said, ‘Limox’ something like this can occur.”

The sounds of electrical energy crackled in the air. Alarmed murmurs rose from the audience as a tingling sensation touched everyone in the auditorium. At blinding speed and without actually touching the prof, a long narrow ribbon of blue-white energy coiled around him like a slithering snake. All the lights in the room flickered on and off as if the spiraling serpent drew power from them. Fear was evident in everyone’s eyes except mine. I knew what was happening—knew what the prof intended to do and I grinned.

The blue-white bolt uncoiled from its master and streaked around and sometimes through the audience without harming anyone. Then it flew up toward the ceiling stopping midway and a beautiful light show began. It reminiscent of downtown Detroit’s Fourth of July fireworks celebration. With each detonation the blue-white light formed into something new, starting with a bear, to Jimmy Hendrix, and then finishing with the face of the man who mocked the prof in the first place. At that point, I knew the true fun was about to begin.

The blue-white energy transformed back into its original configuration and went whizzing in the direction of Professor Griswold. The snake coiled around the man so fast that seemed to completely engulfed him inside a sphere. It rose into the air taking the professor screaming with it. The sphere circled the entire auditorium and then rocketed toward the ceiling. The blue white energy ball and Griswold passed through the ceiling disappearing completely. The audience’s murmurs turned into loud panic. They stared at up and then at the prof, who stood on stage unmoving, but smiling.

Several seconds later the blue-white energy appeared out of nowhere with its passenger on stage. The lights in the auditorium stopped flickering and the Was energy was gone. Professor Griswold dropped to his knees, his suit soaked with perspiration and his naturally dark hair had gone completely white with fear.

The prof knelt beside him. “Still think of it as a parlor trick?”

Griswold vomited. He should actually count himself lucky. If Coltrane’s bodyguard was nearby, she would have relieved him of his head without hesitation.

The prof touched his co-worker shoulder, and his hair color returned to its normal dark texture. The fear Griswold suffered abated and he looked up at the prof. “It flew me to the moon. I actually saw Neil Armstrong’s footprints in the dirt,” he said getting to his feet. “This magic. Can anyone do what you did?”

The prof addressed the audience with an answer. “Everyone cannot access the Was energy. A voice must contain a precise rhythm that few are gifted with. Which is why the world is not crowded with so-called witches, wizards and magicians today. In the wrong hands this ability could be put to horrible use. In the right hands it should be used judicially. And this ends tonight’s lecture.”

The room exploded with applauses. Even Griswold clapped.

With the help of security, it took about an hour for all the students to leave the auditorium. People always wanted to stay and ask question after question to the Coltrane. The prof had that affect on folks. He walked off the stage without assistance and headed up the long aisle toward the exit. I fell into step next to him.

“Professor Coltrane,” I greeted.

He grinned. “Have you come here by cab Taurus?”

“Yeah, I did. How did you know?”

“You smell like garlic.”

I laughed.

“What can I do for you Taurus?”

“I’m on a new job. I might need a little help on this one.”

He stopped mid-stride. “I don’t approve of your searching for these relics. They’re hidden for a reason.”

“It’s all I know how to do, Professor Coltrane. Besides, we both know if the people I retrieve these artifacts for get out of hand, the Obellum will get involved to clean up the mess.”

The Obellum was made up of the oldest of deities. Those who have helped out mankind for thousands of years. They assumed the role of law enforcers, judges and jury. If for example Uno’s imminent war with his fellow vampires spilled over into the world of man, the Obellum might decide to intercede. Let me emphasized on the word might. Sometimes I think they forget about us here on Earth or maybe they occasionally just lost interest.

“The Obellum tend to overreact when their fingers touch our world,” the prof said, “you should consider that when you go hunting for your relics.”

I looked at him sharply. “I can’t afford to think of the consequences, professor. Besides, I’ve recovered dozens of artifacts that could have destroyed the planet and we’re still here aren’t we?”

“For the time-being, yes. But your luck will run out one of these days,” he replied grimly.

I put my arm over his shoulder. “Not as long as you’re around professor. You’re my good luck charm. Why do you think I like to see you so much?”

That broke the tension and he smiled. “I think that has more to do with my daughter than with me.”

“She’s the one I actually want to ask you about.”

“Oh?”

“There’s a member of the Assassins Guild that has a beef with me. I need you to ask her to watch my back, while I—”

He laughed. “Are you serious, Taurus?” When he sensed that I wasn’t, he turned gravely serious. “You have to ask her yourself. I won’t try to smooth things out between you two. You’re completely on your own.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. His daughter had a temper on her, has the tendency to attack first and ask no questions later--but most of all, she was perhaps one of the deadliest people on the planet and she wanted my head on a silver platter.