#they probably exist? does anyone know? has mr mercer said?

[fortunesfavours]

i come bearing time duplicate, an epic-level spell found in the depths of the epic level handbook for dnd 3.5e. this will now consume my waking thoughts for dunamancy/sg/oc purposes

[blacklister214]

Illusions: (Chapter 5) The Offer

L.A. 1983

Caleb stood in the stage wing, listening to the applause thundering from the ballroom. Usually this was the best part of the night for Caleb. Soaking in adulation. Being praised to the skies. At the moment though he couldn’t muster the slightest bit of enthusiasm. He knew very well the source of his ennui.

Performing in the park, even for a minute, had been a high Caleb hadn’t felt in quite some time. There were over a hundred ghosts here tonight, and yet somehow it didn’t come close to the two dozen lifers he’d mesmerized that afternoon. The energy just wasn’t the same.

Caleb marched up the stairs. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that to keep drawing more ghosts to the hotel he needed to work the room. Convince tonight’s guests to bring friends to the next performance. That was how they’d grown their audience from five spirits to the crowd they’d pulled in this evening. Unfortunately his heart just wasn’t in it tonight. The others would have to carry on without him. Delilah would be irate, but then what else was new?

Caleb stopped in his tracks when he reached the green room. A large man with a thick black beard was sitting on the couch, flipping through what appeared to be an old magazine. Caleb was taken aback to see himself posed dramatically on the cover.

“Who are you and what are you doing back here?” Was this rather imposing individual a fan? Caleb had the vaguish sense of recognition, but he couldn’t quite place the face.

“To answer your first question: I am the man who now owns this hotel. As to your second question: I was waiting for you. I confess I presumed I would have to wait longer. You seem like a man who enjoys a good party.” Caleb felt sure he’d misheard. Probably staring into the man’s intense dark eyes had momentary confused him. Or maybe the slight Russian accent had thrown him.

“You own this hotel?” That was impossible. This man was clearly a ghost. Not only could he see Caleb, but he’d gotten to the green room without being noticed. A man this size could not have snuck past anyone.

“Yes, the legal documents are right there if you do not believe me.” Caleb grabbed the papers off the table. They certainly looked official, not that he would have known if they weren’t. In life Caleb’s lawyer had handled these sorts of things.

“Ghosts can’t own hotels.” Buying buildings took money and bank accounts, even Caleb knew that much. Both things were hard to come by without a pulse. The man, however, shrugged as if it were of little matter.

“They can if they have lifers in their employ and the savvy to make the most out of the gifts death has granted us. It is remarkable the fortune one can amass, merely by spying on certain bankers, wall street day traders, and CEOs. But I did not come here to bore you with drawn out stories of my business empire. I am here to offer you the opportunity to become part of it.”

Caleb blinked. That was a surprising offer. He wasn’t sure who this man was, but if he thought Caleb would be caught dead in a business office, he had another think coming.

“I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. I couldn’t imagine a more boring fate than spying on hedge fund managers for eternity.”  The man didn’t seem at all perturbed by Caleb’s denial. In fact he cracked a small smile.

“You misunderstand me. I would never dream of asking a man of your talents to waste his time skulking around boardrooms. What I had in mind was you becoming my partner in running this club.” If Caleb had had a beating heart, he was certain that offer would have made it stop.

“Club?” The giant’s smile grew another half an inch. Caleb silently cursed himself. He was being too obvious with his interest.

“Yes. The Hollywood Ghost Club. We will close this section off from the main hotel, leaving only one clandestine entrance for the VIP lifers.” Caleb’s head was spinning. It was every fantasy he’d had since returning to the land of the living. But that was impossible.

“Lifers? I thought you said it was going to be a Ghost Club.” A ghost club Caleb could understand. A more polished version of what Caleb was running now.

“Only in that it will be run and staffed by ghosts. The audience, though, will be lifers of the highest caliber who will pay handsomely for the privilege of watching you perform.” Caleb’s stomach dropped in disappointment. He should have known it was too good to be true.

“Except they won’t be able to see me or the band. You do recall the little issue of us being invisible to them?” Caleb was probably being more sarcastic than was wise, but he didn’t care. He didn’t like being teased with his dream and then having it yanked away.

“You did not seem to have any trouble being seen this afternoon.” For a long moment Caleb had no words. How did this man know about the park? Caleb hadn’t even told Delilah yet. He suddenly felt uneasy. Had this stranger been spying on him?

“That was a fluke. I don’t know how it happened.” There was no way he was mentioning Alex. He had no idea who this man was or if his stated intentions were genuine. Caleb was dead, and thus relatively safe from harm, but the boy wasn’t.

The man cocked his head to the side and Caleb had the strangest sensation he had just been tested. Whether he’d passed or failed in the stranger’s estimation was anyone’s guess.

“Mr. Covington, do not be coy. We both are aware it had to do with the child. Alex, is it not? A fine name for a boy, I think.” Caleb didn’t have blood, but he could swear he felt it drain from his face. Was that a threat? If the behemoth even considered harming Alex, Caleb would find a way to destroy him.

“What exactly are you suggesting? That I kidnap a four-year old from his bed every night so he can play with me at the club?” Caleb scrutinized the man closely, watching for any hint of ill intent. He saw none. The giant stayed in his seat, posture relaxed as he shook his large head.

“No. The opposite, in fact. One of the conditions of you accepting this deal would be your ending your association with the child.” The gears turning in Caleb’s mind ground to a halt. Whatever direction he’d assume the conversation would take, it hadn’t been that.

“Excuse me?” End his association with Alex? That was...unthinkable. He felt like hitting the stranger for even suggesting it. Odd because he wasn’t generally a man given to violent impulses. Well...except where Greg Mercer was concerned, but given enough time with the man most everyone would feel that way.

“Do not worry, you do not need the child to be seen. Your connection allowed you to reveal a power that was already within you. The ability is rare, but the energy required to use it can be acquired in other ways.” Caleb was simultaneously intrigued and offended. Yes, he was desperate to learn how to be visible to lifers, but the statement seemed to imply that’s all Alex was to him.

“That’s not the only reason I spend time with Alex.” Caleb would never be so dishonest as to claim the abilities that came with the relationship weren’t a draw, but there was so much more to it than that. Alex filled a hole Caleb had never realized he’d had in him.

Once again he felt the man appraising him. Staring into his eyes as if to discover the secrets of Caleb’s soul. After a moment the giant nodded.

“You are genuinely fond of the boy. I can empathize. It is natural in circumstances like yours, but for your sake, as well as his, you must sever that connection as soon as possible.” That gave Caleb pause. The man’s tone seemed sympathetic, though Caleb was quite aware of how easy that was to fake.

“Why?” What harm could possibly be done to either of them? Alex strengthened Caleb, he was sure of it. He brought him peace and joy. And hadn’t Caleb improved the child’s life as well? Hadn’t he prevented Alex’s father from grinding his son down? Hadn’t he arranged for the boy to pursue his own passions? Hadn’t he taught Alex about music and more importantly about self-confidence?

“What do you know about ‘unfinished business’?” Caleb frowned, unsure where this was heading.

“I’m told the reason ghosts don’t ‘cross over’ when they die is that there is something they left undone in their lifetimes. If they complete whatever task they need to, then they vanish, to whatever awaits them on the other side.” Caleb suppressed a shudder. Crossing over was something he had absolutely no interest in. Even if his parents had been wrong and hellfire wasn’t waiting for him, what was the best he could hope for? It wasn’t like he had anyone potentially waiting for him. Anyone he missed and wanted to be reunited with. What else could heaven hold for him? Wings? A harp? An eternity of serenity? Caleb would pass on that fate, thank you very much.

“Precisely. I do not know what your unfinished business may be, but I can tell you with certainty it is connected to your Alex. The more time you spend with him, the more you risk your existence. Even if that weren’t a concern, you do understand the boy is a lifer. He will eventually die and at present you have no way of ensuring he will return as a ghost.”

Caleb felt his throat close up. The man was right. Alex would die. That shouldn’t be news to Caleb. Intellectually he must have known it, and yet he had never considered it. Alex was so young and Caleb hadn’t really spent much time pondering his own immortality.

Ghosts were uncommon. The small number he’d found in LA told him that. He could be grieving Alex for millennia. Suddenly Caleb remembered something the man said and latched onto it like a drowning man to a buoy.

“At present?” What did that mean? Was it possible to ensure Alex would return as a ghost when he died?

“I can teach you how to bind his soul to yours so that when he does pass on, he will be tethered to you, here in this plane. In the end you’ll have everything you want.”

Caleb thought he’d been tempted before, but now he understood the expression ‘I’d give my right arm for _________.’ A club of his own. A live audience. Alex with him forever.

But he would have to leave him. Leave Alex. He’d miss everything. Watching Alex grow from boy to man. Caleb would be unable to celebrate his successes with him. He  would be barred from consoling Alex through his hardships. He’d have to look in Alex’s tearful face and tell him he wasn’t ever coming back.

“I can’t. I can’t just abandon him. It would break his heart.” No. He couldn’t do that. Nothing was worth that.

“What if I told you I could take that pain from him? Lock the memories of you away in his mind. Let him live a normal life. He would not have to grieve you, and when the time is right you could open that box and be joyfully reunited.”

Caleb tried to think rationally, but it was difficult with the pain emanating from his chest. Alex forgetting Caleb would hurt Caleb deeply, but would it hurt Alex? You can’t miss what you’d don’t remember. And loath as Caleb was to admit it, the man wasn’t wrong about a ‘normal life.’

Typically Caleb scoffed at the term ‘normal’, but he was aware it was what most people wanted. By staying in Alex’s life, Caleb would be denying the boy any hope of that. If the incident at the park was any indication it was already creating tension between Alex and his peers. It would only get worse as the boy got older. Forcing Alex to keep a secret of this magnitude would eat at him. The cookie incident was proof of that fact.

He couldn’t decide. He needed time to think. Time to determine if the offer was even genuine.

“Why me? I’m sure there have been other performers over the years who would have leapt at this offer.” How many people had they asked before him? Why had they turned it down? What had happened to them after they did?

“Los Angeles has seen many talented ghosts, but you have more than just talent. You also have intelligence, ambition, and power. It is a rare combination. We have been looking to establish a club here in Hollywood for some time, but we needed someone special to run it.”

Caleb pondered that ringing endorsement for a moment. How much was true and how much was the man blowing smoke up his ass? Intelligence and ambition? In less than a year Caleb had managed to lay the foundation for a ghost business. His was the only such place in town. Objectively he had to admit that spoke to his drive. Power? He’d discovered for himself his abilities were unusual, especially for a ghost as young as he was. The club only worked if lifers were able to watch the performances. If the man was to be believed Caleb had the ability to make that happen. Perhaps the man was being sincere after all.  

“Are there other Ghost Clubs?” The way the man spoke suggested he’d struck this arrangement at least once before. Los Angeles was relatively young in comparison to other cities around the world. Surely some of them had to have established clubs already in place.

“Rome. Paris. London, Madrid. Moscow. Berlin. Buenos Aires. Tokyo. Hong Kong. Cairo. Athens. The list goes on. Ghost Club performers routinely swap venues. You can travel the world. Be worshipped by fans from every major country.” It was funny he hadn’t even considered travelling since rematerializing in LA. Now that it was offered to him though, it was an extremely tempting prospect. There had to be a catch. Things that were too good to be true usually were.

“You said there was more than one condition. What were the others?” The big man motioned Caleb to sit opposite him. He’d never stood when Caleb had entered and had let Caleb have the physical high ground up until this moment. Was that deliberate? Allowing Caleb to feel more secure? In control of the situation? This though, suggested they had entered a new phase. The business deal.

“The second is very simple. If you come across any exceptionally powerful spirits, you contact us. We are always on the lookout for new talent.” Caleb nodded once. The request made sense. It wasn’t like there were ghost Help Wanted ads. Some kind of headhunting model would be the only way a ghost organization could find suitable personnel. Caleb himself must have reported by someone, and now he was being offered the opportunity of an afterlife.  

“What else?” There had to be more to it than simply picking up the phone from time to time.

“The third condition is that you will take responsibility for the ghosts of Los Angeles.” Caleb was not thrilled with the sound of that.

“In what respect?” Was he supposed to be some kind of undead mayor? Hear grievances. Mitigate petty squabbles? Where was he supposed to find the time, not to mention the patience, if he was running the club?

The man steepled his fingered and fixed Caleb with a penetrating stare. He tried not to be intimidated, but it was unsettling.

“It is crucial to the survival of all ghosts that we remain urban legends. Myths. Stories the world at large scoffs at. We can not afford to become a widely acknowledged reality.” Caleb raised his eyebrows. That didn’t jibe with what he’d already been told.

“You said the guests of the club would be lifers.” If they didn’t know the performers were ghosts, then why would they pay such extravagant fees?

“Select lifers, yes, but we have ways of ensuring their silence. The public at large can not gain proof that we are as real as they are. It would be a disaster. History has proven time and time again that whenever two groups come into contact with one another it only ends one way. War. Sometimes even extinction of one of the sides.” Caleb couldn’t argue with that thinking. Hating the other was something humanity always seemed to excel at.

“What would I be expected to do?” Hopefully the man had the means to enforce this code, because nothing in Caleb’s current repertoire would be much good subduing another ghost.

“Deal with any ghosts who threatens to expose us. How will be up to your discretion as long as the issue is contained. There are skills I will teach you to bring recalcitrant spirits to heel. No one minds a little innocent haunting. A light switch flickering. The car horn beeping. But things on a larger scale, for insistence on your little performance today, would need to be curtailed.”  

That gave Caleb pause. It hadn’t crossed his mind that he’d already broken the man’s policy. Twice actually if you counted his possession of Greg Mercer. He pondered mentioning that incident, then decided against. If the man didn’t know, Caleb wasn’t going to risk the deal by telling him.

“Anything else?” The third condition would be a hassle, but considering what he would be getting in return, it was worth the price.

“One last thing. We would need to establish a soul link.” That sounded very new age, but Caleb suspected it was not.

“What is that?” The giant leaned forward, somehow sensing Caleb’s reluctance despite his poker face. Perhaps this was the least attractive condition for the other potential club owners as well. Undoubtedly it was why he saved it for last.

“It is an energy channel. I put my mark on you and I have the ability to tap into your energy reserves if necessary. You, in turn, will establish your own links with less powerful spirits and be able to siphon some of their energy.” Caleb suddenly had an image of the symbol that had appeared on Alex’s head when Caleb had kissed him. Had he already forged one of these ‘soul links’? His stamina had increased since that day. Was that as a result of his constant practicing, or had he been unintentionally stealing energy from Alex?

“Do they hurt?” Alex hadn’t experienced any pain, if anything he’d seemed comforted by it.

“They can be uncomfortable when they are first laid. Beyond that, it is about intention. The kind I will establish with you and that you will make with your fellow performers will be unnoticeable most of the time. It’s only when you draw on an extreme amount of energy that those with your mark will feel any effects. This is why it is important to have as many soul links as possible. The more ghosts, the less power each has to contribute.”

That made sense. Alex usually became sleepy after Caleb performed tricks for him, but Caleb had just assumed it was because he was a young growing boy who needed naps.

“But there are other kinds of links?” The ‘intention’ comment hadn’t escaped Caleb. Caleb’s intention had been benevolent when he’d kissed Alex, ergo his mark shouldn’t harm the boy. That was comforting. What wasn’t comforting was the implication that marks could hurt ghosts.

“It is possible to lay marks that will drain a spirit’s energy completely.” Completely? What did that mean?

“What happens to those spirits?” What happened when a ghost’s energy reached zero?

“They are completely absorbed by the mark-layer.” Dead. That’s what the man was saying. Ghosts could kill each other. Perfect. So much for his earthly cares being over.

“Sounds a bit like ghost cannibalism.” The giant nodded, as if conceding the point.

“I suppose it does. However, there are dangerous spirits in the world and sometimes extreme measures are necessary to deal with them.” Caleb finally understood. Not only was he potentially going to one day face spirits that could end his existence, he was expected to be ready and willing to do the same to them.

“I see.” Caleb couldn’t help but feel doubt. Before this had been a hard decision, but now it was an impossible one. Caleb had no idea if he could hold up his end of the deal if he accepted. He was many things, but a killer? He just didn’t know.

“I’m sure this is very overwhelming, but think about what you’ll be getting out of this bargain. Your own club, designed exactly to your specifications. A suite in this hotel all to yourself where no lifer or ghost will ever trespass. The opportunity to perform before packs houses around the globe. The chance to one day spend an eternity with your Alex. Not to mention the opportunity to learn tricks like this.”

The man waved his hand and suddenly Caleb’s wardrobe had completely changed. Gone was his magician’s garb, which after wearing it for most of the year, even Caleb was a bit tired of. Instead he found himself in a very familiar looking black suit. It wasn’t contemporary, but from Caleb’s time. There was even a pocket watch. He looked down at the magazine on the table. Of course. He’d worn this suit in the photo shoot.

The giant wasn’t done. Another wave of his hand and two brandy glasses appear on the table. Caleb blinked. That was new. Moving an existing object was one thing but conjuring drinks and, dare he hope, food was quite another.

“May I?” Caleb nodded at the glasses. He’d eaten and drunk nothing since his death. The need wasn’t there anymore, but the longing was.

“Of course.” The man picked his own glass and raised it. Caleb followed suit. “Do smerti!”

They clicked their drinks and Caleb sipped. It was exactly as he remembered. The taste. The warm feeling spreading through his limbs. Incredible.

“What did that toast mean?” He was fairly certain it was Russian, but beyond that he had no clue.

“‘To death.’ Typically my people toasted to heath, but in our cases, ‘death’ seemed more appropriate. What do you say Mr. Covington? Will you accept my deal?”

It was a lot, everything he’d learned in the last few minutes. Everything he’d been offered. He appreciated how the man had answered all his questions. He’d been as upfront about the drawbacks as he had the incentives.

“I’d say it’s an offer I can’t refuse.”  Perhaps if he were another type of man he’d walk away from this opportunity. Be satisfied with what he had, and accept its limitations. Caleb, however, was not that type of man and never had been. He’d risk anything if it meant he could have everything.

“Excellent.” The man extended his hand to Caleb and after only a moment’s pause Caleb took it. The moment his hand made contact, he felt a brief burning sensation on his wrist. When he pulled back to look, he saw a dark red circle and within the circle what seemed to be an upside down capital L followed by an uppercase P. Odd. After a few seconds it sunk into his wrist and disappeared. Caleb rubbed the spot, the pain fading as quickly as it had come.

“It just occurred to me. We’ve just established this ‘soul link’ and I don’t even know your name.” The man grinned wider than he had at any other point in the conversation. Caleb suddenly had the unnerving impression that it was less of a smile, and more of a wolf baring its teeth.

“Grigori. Gregori Yefimovich Rasputin.”