Yesterday's Hero by Jonathan Wood Read Free Book Online

or spells, powered by electricity, punches a hole out of our reality and into another one.”
    He’s building up, relying on lessons taught before, but I’ve been trying to avoid the specifics of magic and let all the other “what-the-fuck” percolate. I wrestle my way through memory to the specifics. There are multiple realities. Magic involves reaching out of our reality. Punching a hole, Clyde calls it. And you need electricity for it. The universal lubricant. Not the nicest term. But apparently it’s using electricity that stops the whole project from going boom in the spell caster’s face.
    “So, the magician, or whatever,” Clyde continues, “reaches out of our reality, and into another one. And he or she pulls something out of the distant reality through the hole and into our world. For example, an animating force that they want to slap into a T-Rex skeleton, or maybe some kinetic force that they want to use to cave in that T-Rex’s skull. Theoretically simplistic if a little tricky in practice.”
    I nod. “You told me all this.” Which is my polite way of saying, “I remember you gibbering all this at me once before.”
    “Well,” Clyde says, “teleporting, that’s passing instantly from one place in one reality to another place in the same reality. Which you know. Of course. Definitional. But it’s important. You want to tear a hole in one part of reality, and step out of another hole in the same place you punched out of. Can’t do it. When you punch out, you’re punching out .
    “I mean, say, for example, you’re in a paper bag. Not a likely scenario, I realize, but imagine, attack of the giant paper bags. Swallows you whole. Oh no. Need to punch your way out. So you punch. Easy job really. It’s only a paper bag. One reason paper bags will never take over the world, I assume. Anyway, when you punch out of the bag, you punch out into whatever environment is surrounding the bag. You don’t punch back into the bag.”
    I knew it was going to happen. I’ve gone cross-eyed.
    “Intradimensional magic,” Tabitha chimes in, just to baffle me more. “Name for it. People tried it. Remember Chernobyl?”
    More memory wrestling. And I’m surprised to find I actually do remember this discussion. I’m quite pleased with myself.
    “Chernobyl wasn’t a nuclear explosion,” I say, dredging the brain trenches. “It was experimental magic gone awry. The Magical Arms Race. It was ballsy communist wizards trying to experiment. To pioneer their own spells.”
    “Indeed.” Tabitha nods. “Intradimensional magic. Them. Trying it. Wanted to get a nuke into Times Square. Some such. Instead blew bits of themselves around the place.”
    “Alright,” I say. “No teleporting.” I think that sums up their point.
    “But,” Shaw says, finally pulling us back to the discussion at hand, “Arthur, you’re basically saying this woman wanted us at the museum?” She’s not dismissive, merely curious.
    “I’m saying if she didn’t, she did a piss-poor job of keeping us away.” I’m pretty sure I’m right, but what experience I’ve had in the supernatural world has taught me to avoid something as simple as a straight “yes.”
    “I’ll buy that,” Shaw says, pushing back in her chair. “But then why did she want us there?”
    I try to think. “What if the point was just to impress us with what she’s capable of. Territorial pissing?”
    “Not really a message. That.” Tabitha looks irritated, I’m not sure if it’s at my argument or at the world for not shriveling up in self-hatred yet.
    “Indeed.” Shaw nods along with Tabitha.
    “Did she say anything?” Clyde asks.
    I think about that. “Yes.” I nod. “Well, at the end she shouted angrily and tried to scare me with magic.” I look at Shaw. “You said it was Russian?”
    I understood a few words.” Shaw looks suddenly worried again. It’s not wholly reassuring. “Here and there.” She lapses into silence.
    “Any examples?”