The Beginning of the End is Shuttered Vision

Its time, Clair thought to herself as she set up the ingredients for the spell she was about to cast.  She was stronger now.  She didn't need the herbs and symbols but her mother had taught her respect for the old ways.  She loved them and they kept her just enough human these days.  Just enough to remember the people she was looking for were flawed.  Her husband Sergei did the rest when it came to insuring her empathetic bond to humanity.  She smiled over to him softly as she added the rosemary to the shell with the white sage, rose petals and lavender.  It would keep those she bound safe until it was time for them to do what they needed to do.

Sergei lit the white candles around the shell and sat on the opposite side of Clair. The table between them was a wooden pub table.  Their seats pub stools. He had built his Clair a witch's den as soon as they found a forever home in Taos. The shed sat on consecrated ground blessed by her ancestors and his. The walls were built from a blessed oak tree and the adobe that packed those walls from deep in the heart of what was once Apache lands. They had blessed and warded the space themselves with only a little help from Clair's mother Janeene.

Building places like this required a lot of heart and care. The furniture was either stone or wood. The walls were bare but the large wooden chest in the corner held all Clair needed. Candles, herbs, ingredients and totems. Each piece was selected with the utmost care and attention to detail.  Clair had insisted.  He had done as she needed. That was the only way one should deal with a witch powerful enough to drop a city block with a thought. It helped that he was in fact hopelessly in love with her and she him.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them.  Their vision was shared and she could see as he did. They scanned the world then. Clair gasped and Sergei stopped. They jolted out of the vision.

"That was fast." Sergei said briskly.

Clair looked a little stunned as she stared down at the contents of the abalone shell between them. The shell was the size of a fist and fit easily into Clair's palm. It looked as if it hung in mid air on its wooden tripod stand. When she used it she stared at the flames when she burned her herbs to see what she needed to.

"Not a mistake." She whispered as she used a candle to set fire to the contents of the bowl. She let her aura pulse.  She felt the power that laid in her soul push the boundaries.  The words came to her spontaneously. "For nothing can be seen, made or foretold without art. The artists must be acute of vision, consorts of sound, and scribes of renown.  I call on 3 sets of creators with a view unconventional and will unbendable.

One of handled art with brush to canvas and visions of failed passions. One of traveled time in scenes, lulls, set and dark flashes. Those of sight with vision unbound to see the world that is now found."

Find Clair and Sergei's story in So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar.

Then continue the tale with Fiona and Colan in Shuttered Vision coming June 30th 2017.

The Artists - Those with Sight

The concept of the artists is the first stage of reconciling the inequality of the world as far as creation is concerned.  We live in a society that in some instances value art for the wrong reasons.  The human spirit is a treasure trove of beauty and beautiful instances.  However we as a species sometimes condemn creation and invalidate it based on conventions that should be explored because of how rich they make the content that is given. Art is popularity not art. Many of the leading societal structures in the world have a very rudimentary appreciation for art as it stands and for the sake of. It gets dolled off as frivolous and unnecessary.  And yet most of our living world as it stands and is imagined is a product of an artistic mind. Without art nothing of what we have would exist.  From household appliances to all of our technological advances. We would be bereft of homes, cars, buildings. In the beginning there was art.  Creation and the desire to create drawn on cave walls is the beginning of our gradual evolution into communication. Without art we are without.

So I present the first selection. Those with sight.

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

The First book of the Balancing Acts series for Genesis 2020: So A Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar

Sergei looked at her intently. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Clair said quickly and with confidence. “Not at all.” For no other reason except the compulsion to do so Clair leaned up, placing her hand on his shoulder and softly kissed his cheek. “Thank you, really.” She met his eyes as she said it and felt his shoulder tremble beneath her fingers.

He stared into her eyes for countless seconds, he pulled closer for a moment and held.  He pulled closer still and held.  Clair could feel his breath on her lips, the heat of his skin under her fingertips and wafting from his body to hers due to close proximity.  Her lips parted and his eyes darted to them.  For a few more moments they held this way.  So close both feeling the urge to close the space between them and see what happens. Then Sergei pulled back.

Clair realized that she had been holding her breath.  She hadn’t expected him to kiss her, but she realized that she would not have been opposed to it either.  And that thought within itself startled her.  She hadn’t been this close to a man in over a year.  And even then, near the end she and Johnny hadn’t been the most loving of couples.  They had virtually stopped having sex a few months before his big move. Conversation between them had been nearly nonexistent and there had been very little consideration for each other.  Well, there had been very little consideration from Johnny towards Clair.

“So you ready?” Sergei asked as he placed more space between the two of them.

She looked at this man who had placed himself before her and she considered him.  Truly considered him for the first time since their very awkward meeting. Was she actually ready to move on?  The world around her had nearly aligned to make this meeting possible.  With her schedule and her career it was a nearly impossible instance to actually meet someone outside of her immediate circle of close friends and relatives.  For whatever reason Dorrie had been in rare form, so had this man, and so had she for that matter and this is what has come of it all. Her mother would have an earful about what is all meant.

Clair’s mother, Janeene was an interesting creature. She believed in God, in Fate, in Destiny and the Grand Design.  But she believed it was more like slots in space, not truly mapped out for one person over another.  The people that we are determine who we will become.  And the choices we make determine the people we are.  Pulling all of that together is her craft as she melds herbal healing, superstition and prayer to aid people on their journey as she refers to it as.  One of the things her mother always prescribed to was the thought that the Universe tested people to determine what they were ready for.  People find it very easy to fall into habits and accept fallacies as fact instead of coping with the inevitability of change and accepting their new role in the weft of the Universe.  She says bad luck is the side car to rejecting change.  Good luck, the rewards of the Universe for following the path that your choices have decided you are suited for.  All her life, Clair had run from something.  Whether it be her gift, men, or herself.  She had been in a race to be anything accept for what she was always meant to be.  And here before her was a test of varying degrees.  With this man she had her first psychic episode involving his death.  With this man she did have a disturbing unnamed attraction she had never felt with Johnny.  The connection was stronger and deeper, perhaps because of her episode, she really didn’t know.  It was just there.  All of the stars were aligning for this and here she was with him to go out on a date.

She had a choice to make, she could reject him out of fear of hurt and rejection, in essence keep running.  Or she could finally let her fear subside and jump in without thought and trust the Universe. Was she really ready for what the Universe was trying to gift her with?  The question practically echoed in her mind.

“I think I am.” She said out loud.

Sergei smiled, which was devastating to her senses. “Alright, let’s go.”

Other Posts on this book:

That Scene with Sergei and Clair

Sergei

Clair Fair

Love is Queen

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Smashwords

So A Psychic and Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Clair finally asked. “Is there any reason to believe that someone would want to hurt you?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, this project that I’m here for is under much scrutiny and debate.” He leveled his impressive eyes at her. “There are people who would rather not see it done.”

“How pertinent are you to its completion?”

“There’s the thing Clair, without me, it doesn’t happen.”

“You want to talk about it?”

He hesitated for only a moment, “Virgin launch.  The ideal has been humming around the aerospace industry since we first got people on the moon.” His eyes started to glow again as he started talking with his hands. “What if we could charter people into space, like airline carriers charter people around the world?  It’s a huge undertaking because you would have to be able to eliminate a bulk of the physical limitations to being in space that astronauts train years for.”

“Okay.” Clair inserted following.

“What is the one thing missing from space that makes it so damn difficult for people?”

Clair thought for a second. “Gravity.”

Sergei smiled at her then. “I have developed a rather crude and preliminary gravitational system that would not alter regardless of the gravity, or lack thereof, of space. Currently it can be isolated to a single hub.” He shrugged, “So far I’ve only been able to stabilize a hub the size of a Lear jet, but that’s just the beginning.”

Clair felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “You’ve found a way to create gravity?” she said in a disbelieving fashion.

Sergei shrugged. “Sort of, I’ve mostly found a way to borrow gravity.  Gravity is one of the big four forces of the Universe, it just exists, the trick is tapping into it.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Same way it exists now, orbiting bodies in a circular pattern, cyntrivical force meeting rotating atoms.”

Abruptly he grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket.  He drew a crude looking cigar shaped vessel and drew several rings around it.  On each ring he attached various circular objects of varying size, and with arrows he displayed the directions each ring would move and the directions each circular object would rotate in.

He showed her the crude drawing. “Mankind’s problem is that we always think we need to reinvent the wheel. We don’t need anything new. The solution is in the application.”

Clair’s mind wrapped around it instantly. “A roving solar system, with the hub as the sun.”

Sergei nodded. “It would move in space just like our galaxy does, creating it’s own gravity as it goes.”

Clair shook her head. “That’s so simple it’s brilliant.”

Sergei nodded. “I had this thought for quite a while and I often thought that it really couldn’t be this simple so I never brought it up.  But people are chomping at the bit to get into space.” He shrugged. “So I put a little more time and planning into it, mapped out the physics of it all and I was able to generate a gravitational field on a model airplane.”

Clair was holding the napkin, staring at it blankly not really believing how unerringly brilliant this man was. “Talk about thinking outside of the box.”

“I find the only issues with science are all the rules. We’ve made things too complicated.  None of us can see the forest for the trees.” He shrugged. “God had it all right in the beginning, why mess with that.”

Her thoughts got captured by his mention of God. “Don’t tell me you’re a scientist that believes in God.”

He fixed her with a very serious look. “No true scientist can look at the evidence and not.  It’s too balanced, everything is.  I don’t know if religion has it right but I do know that something holds this all together.  We’ve broken things down to their smallest component and we have no ideal why everything doesn’t just fall apart.  That’s either magic or some other divine force.” He fixed her with a knowing look. “And I don’t have to tell you about all else in this world that is inexplicable.”

Clair stared at him more than a little transfixed. “You’re not surprised that I understand.”

His expression showed a large amount of confusion. “Why wouldn’t you understand?”

“I’m a musician.”

To his credit he laughed. “Clair you don’t play an egg, you play the piano and you compose concertos.” He shook his head. “The ideal that artists, musicians in particular, are not bright people is without merit.  Music is the finest thing math has ever created.”

Looking at her with a touch of awe he said gravely. “The ability to look at nothing and fill it with something that was only just a thought is the greatest genius of all.  Math, Science are easy, there are guidelines and charts, mapping and theories.  Creating something with just the raw materials given is what the pioneers of science, math, and language did, not us, we just work with what has been found.  People like you still dabble in actual creation, not us.”

Clair smiled at him as the waiter sat their plates in front of them.

“I stand by my previous assessment of you.” She said candidly after thanking the waiter.

Other Posts on this book:
That Scene with Sergei and Clair
Sergei
Clair Fair
Love is Queen
So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar

Amazon (Available in Print Exclusively)

Barnes and Noble

Smashwords

When Alex met Thomas

Excerpt from Sandra's Social:

This morning was the clearest Alex’s mind had been since the accident.  He focused on the girl Danielle as she brought over his breakfast.  She looked like she fell right out of the 17th century. Her skin looked like cappuccino froth dusted lightly with cinnamon.  The long plain beige skirt she was wearing looked made of cotton.  The simple white top was too big for her as the large scoop neck toyed with falling off her creamy lightly freckled shoulders with every movement. It was held to her form by a simple white apron cinched tight to her small waist. She had a brown bandana tied around her gold-laced brown hair holding it out of her face.  With no makeup, and only a freshly washed face with broad evenly placed features, golden amber eyes sparkled mischievously with an even broader smile.

“Morning Beautiful; here’s some eats for you.  Hope this day finds you blessed.”

“Who is he to you?”

Danielle gave him an odd look as she placed the steaming plate of eggs and hash on the table near his bed. “That was a complete sentence. This day sees you blessed indeed.”

“Answer the question.”

“My name’s Danielle by the way.  He told me you were Alex, -”

“Please, answer the question.”

“My brother, now can we move on to more civilized conversation?”

Alex merely regarded her with hooded eyes.

“I suppose that’s a no.  Pity I figured you had something interesting to say.”

“When is Glendel coming back?”

She shrugged as she turned, and started to leave the room.

Alex stewed for a second over Danielle’s uncooperative nature.  He then took a mental detail of his physical condition.  He moved both legs successfully, but the truth would come when he tried to put weight on those legs.  His right shoulder was definitely wrenched.  He had pain in various places; his face, his chest, and back. It was safe to say he truly hurt from head to toe.  He was staring at his feet dangling over the end of the bed when Glendel casually strolled into the room.

“Done with your vacation? Talk about an inopportune time to take a break.” His gold eyes pinned Alex where he lay as the deep smooth voice of the man filled the room.

Glendel stood at the doorway in pretty much the same ensemble he had been in when they had met three weeks ago, but without the hat.  His brown hair was greasy, and lay flat to his skull as if he had been wearing a hat before he came to the bedroom.  

Alex really wasn’t in the mood for this man’s off color sense of humor, and said so. “I can’t say that I’m in a good frame of mind for your particular brand of wit.”

Glendel arched a brow mockingly. “Why that was slightly British. Odd from a big slant eyed Bolshevik like you. What’s your story Stefanov?”

Alex merely glared at the man.

“Okay, I see you woke up in a grand mood.” Glendel commented as he went over to a chair that was by the bed.  It was the perch that Danielle had maintained during her vigil over his prone body.

“Where’s McNeil?” Alex slanted his dark blue eyes at Glendel.

“Back to his charmed lifestyle.” His expression appeared bland at most.

Alex stared at the ceiling as he thought about the places Shane McNeil could hole up. “How did the rest of the IRA feel about Shane’s statement?”

“They claim it, but I happen to know firsthand that it leaves a sour taste in the mouth of many of them.  They want Shane dead.” This was accompanied by an even blander look on his face considering the subject.

Alex fixed Glendel with a hard look. “How do you know so much?  How long have you been working this?”

“Since it started it seems. This is my home Alex. I see to what’s mine.” Glendel ended fiercely, his tone defying the unresponsive features of his face.

“Will you get in my way when I go after McNeil?”

“Not at all, I intend to help.  Unfortunately if I want to maintain my inside you’ll have to be the one to kill McNeil, and then I’ll do the right thing, and kill you.”

“You’re breaking my cover.” Alex jerked wanting to sit up, but flinching instead, and staying prone.

“Yes I want you out of Ireland mate,” he said deadpan.

“My orders-,” Alex started raising his voice.

“Are superseded by mine,” was said softly, but with force.

“No fucking way will I just roll over and let you kick me out.”

“You aren’t being given a choice in the matter.  I’m offering you plenty by giving you McNeil, and a fake death. I could give you neither.” Glendel’s eyes gleamed with malicious intent. The most expression he had showed yet.

Alex frowned at the man that he was quickly beginning to not like one bit. They were on the same side. Why was he being told to run home with his tail between his legs?  It wasn’t even from his superior, but by some CIA field agent. It made no bloody sense.  Then realization dawned on him.  The man being in the right place at the right time, his unreadable countenance, and obvious community ties.

“You’re first wave intel.”

Glendel’s answering smile was dark and cold. “Now you’re catching on laddie; much bigger things here than the IRA.”

Alex closed his eyes in frustration, but knew that he had to heed the man before him.