#introducing some lore changes and an old character ppl prob do not recognize bc it's been years

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day eleven

"Well, that worked out great."

original fiction (power payback)

word count: 1682

It was rare that someone sought Magni out when it came to cases he consulted on. 

When the phone on his desk rang, he was caught off guard. No one called his work number. Not even his mother when she was desperate to reach him. 

Reluctantly, he removed an earplug and lifted it off the cradle. “This is Hillson Consulting Services. I’m Magni Quinn. How can I help you today?”

“Magni Quinn?” the voice on the other end repeated. It was a woman’s voice, deep and raspy. “My name is Ms. Fay. I have some information about that string of robberies you’ve been investigating. The ones in Westside?” 

He leaned back in his chair. “I’m not the detective on that case. I just gave counsel on possible Talent involvement.” There had been none, at least that he’d found. The shop owners had just called them in because Westside had the most Talents, where he’d grown up. Just the kind of nonsense job Hillson sent him on when he did get tired of sitting behind a computer. “I suggest you call Detective Pallas if you have any details pertaining to those robberies.” 

“Ah, but-” She paused. “Nevermind. I thought you just might be more willing to take me seriously.” 

Magni looked around the small office. Hillson’s door was closed, and his coworkers were busy with their own cases or out. “What is it?” 

“I’d prefer it if we talked in person,” Ms. Fay said. 

“You and me both,” he muttered. Though the phones in Hillson’s office still ran on old-fashioned landlines, he still hated calling people rather than talking face to face. “Where do you want to meet?” 

“Oh, no.” She laughed nervously. “You need to come to me. My address is 7118 Geffen Road.” 

As he jotted it down, he wondered if he was being pranked. “Alright. When-”

“Any time. As soon as you want.” 

“Fine.” Magni sighed. “I will-” He glanced at his computer. The case of finding who was diverting links on the Studio 99 website to the Youtube video for Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” seemed much less interesting now - and that was saying something. “I’m heading over now.” 

“Thank you.”

He hung up the phone and stuck his other earplugs in. Magni locked his computer and grabbed his keys, but his escape wouldn’t be that easy. Hillson opened his door right as he stood up from his cubicle. 

“Quinn! Where are you going?” 

Magni opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly. “I’ll be back,” he decided on, nodding. 

“You’re an awful liar,” Hillson told him. 

“I didn’t even try to lie,” Magni said, leaving his cubicle. 

“I know you were trying to.” 

That was fair. But Hillson didn’t stop him as he headed towards the door. 

Ms. Fay’s place wasn’t in Westside. It was closer to the Resorts District, which meant he had to cross Bright City Boulevard and the traffic that always plagued it just to find her address. When he did finally find 7118 Geffen Road, Magni realized why the police didn’t take her seriously. 

The two-story house faced the street, the glowing sign in the window clear for any passing tourist to see - “PSYCHIC” with the outline of a star. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He parked on the street and walked up to the door. Living in Bright City, Magni should have been used to the weird. But as many Talents as he’d met, both on and off the job, he knew psychics weren’t real. 

Still, he was here now. 

Magni knocked on the front door. From inside, he heard the voice from the phone call, “Come inside! I’ll be with you shortly.” 

He opened the door and stepped inside the entry. A staircase led up stairs, with a narrow entry and an archway that opened to - well, it should have been a living room, but calling it a parlor seemed more accurate. Heavy curtains shrouded the room in darkness. A fancy but worn red couch was pressed up against the wall, under a tapestry of violet and crimson knots. 

Without his earplugs in, he heard a couple of smartphones, a computer somewhere deeper in the house. 

Magni stepped into the parlor. It was empty, but another pair of curtains separated it and another room. He figured that must have been where Ms. Fay did her business. 

He sat on the couch tentatively and nearly thought about texting Sprout. But this wasn’t the kind of thing to text her about. She’d think he was dying if he had to text her about it. No, it would be a better story to tell her over dinner. 

The curtains parted just enough for two young women in their twenties, one with a ‘bride-to-be’ sash over her short dress, to step out. “Thank you, Ms. Fay.” 

As they walked out, giggling, Magni tapped his fingers against his knee and wondered if this was really worth the scoop. Shit, he wasn’t even the actual investigator on the case. And what would Detective Pallas think if he did pass it along? Hillson was right, he was a terrible liar. He just had to hope she would actually believe him if he said he got his information from a psychic. 

The curtains opened again. He wasn’t sure who had expected the woman who had called him to be. Maybe an older white woman with a touch of cultural appropriation. Instead, a short, Black woman walked out. She definitely wasn’t much older than him, with thick, black curls with no touch of gray. She wore a deep purple dress that nearly brushed the ground and billowed with every step she took towards him. 

“Magni,” she said, before he could even stand to greet her. “I hope you can overlook your skepticism. May I interest you in a reading?” 

He tried to say no, but she was already disappearing back into her reading room. 

With a sigh, Magni followed her in. The room was lit by candles, making him feel a little disoriented in the dim light. “I don’t want a reading-” 

“I know,” Ms. Fay said. “You want your information. You think this is a waste of your time, and that I’m not what you expected, which- I’m only 31. And you must be gay, because most straight men notice my cleavage first.” 

He struggled to find the words to answer any of those claims, but only one answer came to mind, which she so helpfully filled in as well.

“And by now, you’ve figured out that I’m a telepath.” 

Ms. Fay smiled as she took a seat at the circular table in the room, looking at him expectantly. 

“Yes.” Magni took the seat across from her. “Are you going to talk over me the whole time?” 

“No. But please excuse my impatience.” 

He laid his hands on the table. “Is this reading the only way to get you to talk?” 

Ms. Fay picked up the deck of tarot cards in the middle of the table. “Let’s call it trust building.” As she started to shuffle them, she asked, “You’re a Talent, right? You work for Hillson.”

“Yes. Technopathy.” 

“Then I think you understand why I operate like this.” She met his eyes, hands still moving deftly. “My therapist said I’m an agoraphobe. I just think it’s too loud outside.”

He sighed. “Now that’s something I understand.” 

Ms. Fay spread the deck out in front of him. “Pick three cards and don’t look at them. Just hand them to me, in the order that you pull them out.” 

Magni did as she asked, picking at random. He’d never done one of these before. All he could hope was that it led to some kind of helpful outcome. 

She laid out the three cards for him, straightening up the remaining cards. “Here’s my secret, Mr. Quinn. Tarot is a symbolism game. I read the thoughts of my clients - what they desire, what they don’t even know they desire, what they fear, what they- well, you get the drill.” 

Ms. Fay flipped the first card over. “Five of coins. Someone’s fallen on hard times. They can’t keep a job. They get kicked out their apartment and have to crash on their cousin’s couch, down on Westside.” She turned over the next. “Seven of swords. They come up with a plan. Break into a few pawn shops in Westside. No one will look at them. They’re just a normie. Flying under the radar.” Finally, she flipped over the third. “Two of wands. They didn’t think this through enough, though. Everyone knows what’s been stolen. They can’t sell what they’ve stolen. They need guidance, ‘cause they think they’ve outsmarted you and Detective Pallas, but not enough. They need to know their next move.” 

“So the suspect came here?” 

“Bingo. I heard all that, did a little googling, and-” She picked up the next card on her deck, and grinned. “Huh.” Ms. Fay turned it around. A figure sat on a throne, a sword in one hand and a set of scales in the other. “Justice. Well, that worked out great.” She set the card down. “Think this was a waste of time now?” 

Magni leaned back in his chair. “You want the honest answer?” 

She laughed. “You ask like I don’t already know. Your perp’s name is Jerome Grover. I have his number and his credit card information, but you don’t need that last part. And if you do tell Detective Pallas about my parlor tricks, don’t tell her all my secrets.” 

He stood. “You know what they say. Honor among Talents.” 

“I thought it was honor among thieves,” Ms. Fay said, writing down Jerome’s name and number.

“If it were, I think you’ve broken that code, Ms. Fay.” He took the card from her. “If that’s even your real name.”

“Yes. It’s real. Althea Fay.” She rose. 

“What do I owe you?” 

“Nothing. Just being a good Samaritan. And hopefully, finding someone who understands.” 

Magni stuck the card in his pocket with a smile. “I think I do.”