Tipped Scales

Chapter 1He found a coffee mug hiding behind a stack of books. It was so old the bottom was speckled with a variety of circular molds. Sean cringed, no idea how that had gotten there. It was one of his mugs he kept around the break room—or had, once—and he couldn’t remember when he’d last seen it. He set it on his desk with the rest of the crap from his office to take home for the summer, mentally listing the pros and cons of scrubbing the mug out thoroughly versus just plain pitching the nightmare mess. Classes had been over for two weeks but Sean had just wrapped up what he needed to get done before a bit of a rest. The weather was mild and nice and he was eager to get home and have a beer with the windows open, take a break before really applying himself to his witch studies and delving into whatever was in the sub-Lair of Crypt Coffee. It was weird, being forty now but treated like a young student by his witches Guild. He had come to it late—whatever latent powers he had only jolted awake a few months before and while he didn’t seem to be a complete fuckup with them, he struggled. He tossed another pair of reading glasses on his desk, frowning at the collection. How could he buy so many and forget he had the others? The shriek cut through his brain, a mental, almost metallic screech, and Sean grabbed for the edge of his desk. His heart pumped furiously, his sinuses ached, and several drops of blood leaked from his nose onto a legal pad lying on his desk. Sean reached for tissues to staunch the flow, concerned. Only one person affected him like this. Seth Smith, department chair, and secretly an entity known as a Lithe Fellow. And a noise like that could only be a cry for help. Sean went for his office door and dashed down the corridor to Seth’s office, concerned. Seth was hardy. He’d taken a silver bullet a few weeks earlier and was back at the college two days later like nothing had happened. Seth shouldn’t be asking for help. The door to his office was closed but not locked; Sean braced himself and entered. “Shut it,” said Seth, voice shakier, more distorted than normal. While most people saw and heard only a slender, pale man, Sean could see and hear Seth closer to his true form. What he saw when he closed the door and turned was the Lithe Fellow in his desk chair, torso too thin for his organs, limbs overly long, face a mess of nothing. He was impaled to the chair with what looked like an arrow. It had hit him with such force the chair had been pushed back against the wall, and Sean stared at him for a moment. His mind was slightly fuzzy and he couldn’t tell if it was from Seth’s magic—incompatible with his own—or shock. “I need your help,” said Seth. “But be careful coming around here…I don’t think I tripped everything.” He paused, probably in pain despite none of that coming through in his voice. “It takes more than this to kill me. Whoever set this would have known.” “I don’t know what you want me to do,” said Sean, scouring the room from where he stood just inside the door. “It would definitely kill me.” “Use your style of magic. I sensed it and pushed it away before…” he gestured limply with a hand, “this.” Sean nodded and concentrated. His head ached, his sinuses ached, and he was as inexperienced at this as he was at everything else. This summer he’d have to put good time into training with Adonia. At first, he didn’t notice anything. Then he focused on the feel of the arrow in Seth’s chest and searched for more of the same in the room. What he felt nearly knocked him over. “s**t,” he said, putting a hand out to steady himself against the wall. “They’re everywhere.” He sensed traps set all over the room—knives in the desk drawers, other arrows in the bookshelves. His eyes darted around, but he could see nothing. Both of the windows were set to shatter inward, yet appeared normal. Seth fumbled with the arrow in his chest as though to pull it out, but couldn’t manage it. “Don’t move,” said Sean. “There are spikes under your chair.” “How many traps?” asked Seth, sounding tired. Sean did a quick count. “Eight. No, nine. Who wants you dead this badly?” “I was going to ask you that. Disarm them.” “What?” asked Sean. His nose started bleeding again and he shoved the tissues at it. “It is the magic you use.” “Earth magic is widely used,” said Sean. He examined the nearest trap and tried to negate it with his own magic, relieved to find it simple. Apparently the assassin who left these thought it was enough for Seth to trip them with his conflicting magic and nothing special was needed. “Ah, but you can disarm them.” “They’re simple,” said Sean, then stopped and glanced at Seth’s horrible not-present face. He feared he was being tested. “Why would I help you if I set them? I could just finish you.” “True,” said Seth, and then nothing else. He leaned his head back against the chair. Sean figured he’d accepted it wasn’t Sean trying to kill him, but the entire situation was disturbing. Nullifying the weapons spells took all of Sean’s mental capacity, though, so he could give nothing else any thought until he’d made his way around the office completely and was standing in front of Seth. “You still alive?” he asked. “I would have to be very unfortunate for this to kill me,” said Seth. “But all this magic is trying. I can’t heal myself until you’ve dealt with it all.” “I’m doing the spikes under the chair now,” said Sean. He didn’t like to think about how long he’d been here, but the light in the room had definitely changed. It had to be late afternoon. “There. Now what?” “Now you pull this out of me.” Sean hesitated. On closer inspection he saw the arrow had not just gone through Seth but also the chair, the tip buried in the wall. He’d done a lot of uncomfortable things, particularly since meeting Dane, but he’d never yanked anything out of a body before. The memory of Seth’s mental shriek gave him pause, and the knowledge he’d have to get physically very close with the Lithe Fellow wasn’t exactly pleasant. “It’s…all the way through you.” “I’m aware of that. And I’ve been sitting here like this for nearly three hours now.” Sean decided to get the arrow out of the wall first. He yanked on Seth’s chair, hard, twice before it popped out and the Lithe Fellow groaned into his mind. “Nobody’s made an attempt on you or the man you’re seeing, have they?” asked Seth in a way that had to be his equivalent of through gritted teeth. “No,” said Sean. His mind wavered and he brought it back to the task, wrapped his hands around the arrow. He didn’t know whether Seth was warning him or fishing for information. And while they didn’t have a great relationship, they should be on good enough terms to share anything interesting. “Any,” he yanked on the arrow, ignored Seth’s rattled gasp, “reason,” he yanked again, “why?” The arrow came out of the chair but not Seth. Sean became aware of a salty odor, seemingly from Seth, who’d tilted his head back again. Sean gave him a few moments. “Thought I’d inquire,” said Seth at last. “Is he around? He looks young and strong.” Even with how his mind wanted to fade in and out, Sean was insulted. Having turned forty at the beginning of the year, he was touchy about his age, more so when compared to Dane, who had only turned twenty-nine at the end of April. It didn’t help that Dane definitely did work out more than Sean did and would probably have an easier time pulling the arrow out. “No, and I doubt he’d help. He’s still pissed at me for not shooting you.” Sean grabbed the arrow again, braced himself, and tugged. The surge of pain in his mind from Seth’s reaction almost made him pass out. He let go, leaned against Seth’s desk, and focused on his breathing. “You moved it. A few more tugs and it should be out.” Sean hauled himself up and gave the arrow another pull. The shaft was good quality and well manufactured and seemed to slip through his fingers, but Seth’s reaction indicated he’d moved it. The salt smell had grown stronger. As Sean rested again, his mind actually latched onto something Seth hadn’t said. “This isn’t the first time this has happened to you, is it?” he asked. Seth didn’t say anything for so long, Sean figured he wasn’t going to reply. When Sean moved forward and grabbed the arrow again, Seth spoke. “No,” he said, then shrieked in Sean’s mind. The arrow was still in him, but not by much. Sean blinked at the Lithe Fellow’s chest as his vision faded, returned, grew hazy again. Something was definitely seeping out of Seth’s chest, like thick water. This was the source of the saltiness, Sean realized. Seth’s blood, or whatever was the Lithe Fellow equivalent. Seth put a hand up to the arrow, tried to finish it, and moaned again. Sean pulled himself together and took hold of it, wanting to end this. One final tug and it was in his hands, Lithe Fellow blood and all, and as he stared at it, blood from his nose dripped down to mingle with it. His vision started to go and he lowered himself to the floor, trying not to pass out. Seth had to be using his magic to heal himself some. That was why Sean was having such a hard time holding onto consciousness. Suddenly, the pressure let up. “Thanks for the assistance,” said Seth. He sounded a little stronger. “You should go recover.” Sean pulled himself to his feet using the desk. “How many other times has someone tried to kill you?” he asked. “We’ll talk later. We’re both too weak.” Sean hated that he was right, but he nodded, and staggered toward the door. Dane was not going to believe the kind of day he had.