Get Along Little Dougie - Part 5 (Conclusion)

November 2, 1997

Our Story So Far: Having spent several hours playing with Dougie's mind, Yohannon and company begin to feel some remorse. They are, however, stuck with the consequences of their actions...or are they? Yohannon decides to have a ritual putting Dougie's fate up to the Universe, essentially a complex and arcane way of passing the Cosmic Buck. At the very least they might find that the Universe would go easy on them just this once....

We spent the next several hours discussing the details of resolving Dougie's dilemma. Actually,it was more our problem, since we were the ones that would be arrested and no doubt dragged off to some bizarre government laboratory that would do an X-Files fans paranoia proud.

My basic concept was fleshed out and made fool proof. Brad liked the poetic justice, and the true beauty of it was that Doug would only suffer at his own hands. The trouble was, I couldn't see a way of making it permanent without a lot of help. Traveling spells of this sort took a lot of effort, and even I didn't have the chutzpah to believe I could pull off even a short term "floating doom" off, much less something on the scale I had imagined.

What's a floating doom? Well, Tolkein mentions something like them in THAT trilogy, which had some amazingly accurate information, albeit with vital bits removed...sort of like MacGyver's more violent gadgets. A floating doom sort of goes off in a random direction, usually only activated if the target has violated an oath (and has been warned of the consequences of same!). The target never knows when he'll run into the doom, and thus would either have to have an exhausting regimen of wards and shields in place at ALL TIMES (near impossible for most), or hope that lightening wouldn't strike. The person casting the doom might have to expend some serious energy once...but can recover on some sandy beach at his, her or its leisure on some sandy beach like dimension, while the target spend a lifetime of looking over a shoulder (or whatever).

Floating dooms aren't used very often. For one thing, they might accidentally be tripped by the wrong person (rare, but VERY bad kharma). Also, they have a tendency to fade like a cheap snapshot in the sun if not cast correctly, or with bad intent. Finally, it's just considered to be messy magic, sort of like land mines...once cast, they can't be easily recalled. It's a bummer to be toasting a former enemy as an ally, only to have the damn thing descend. How about if that reformed bad person is actually in the middle of assisting YOU when suddenly they're turned into a frog, or something equally unimaginative but useless in your cause?

A hex is easier, but tends to do direct damage. A bit of a no-brainer when it comes to a cosmic balance -- you hurt someone directly, and it's a bad thing. Self defence is one thing, shooting someone when they're at your mercy is another nolo contendere.

Now, a traveling spell is even harder than a floating doom, because it has to "live" for an extended period of time, stay with the intended target for the duration of it's life, ONLY effect that target and only when triggered. They used to be misnamed "curses". The ultimate traveling spells can span generations (those infamous "family curses"), but require so much energy and good intention to be pulled off they're actually extremely rare. A good reason to use a family curse is if there's a special attribute that's inheritable through a family linage, such as a specific psi talent. If someone does something really heinous with that talent, it serves a higher purpose to let future generations that with that power comes responsibility (yada yada, insert inspirational music here).

So to do up Little Dougie right, I wanted to make sure we had all the reserve power we could get. This was how I wound up meeting Frynne, Rowan, Ian and Stuart for the first time. Brad called them all in as backups to form a circle.

Despite popular belief, you don't NEED to have 13 members to form a circle, though 13 is a good number (powerful enough to accomplish a lot, small enough to control). You can have as little as 1 and as many as...well, the largest true circle I had ever heard of had 1567 witches, though occasionally rumors of larger would reach my ears. Personally I can't imagine the charisma required to keep all those people focussed on the task at hand.

It's the law of diminishing returns...many hands may make light work, but after a point you need too many people to counter-act the wayward souls in the group for larger numbers to make it worthwhile. Like I said, 13 is just an optimum suggestion.

First thing I did was have Beth and Brad (easily the two strongest people in our little group) drag the sleeping beauty (NOT!) that was Doug over to the center of the room. Brad went to make some phone calls to rustle up some of the aforementioned help, while the rest of us cleared a big enough space to form a circle around Doug.

My plan was pretty simple, and yet a bit loaded: To minimize the trouble we could get into we were going to let the universe pick Doug's fate. I wanted to tie it into his tendency to attack people with his words, and hoped we get something like a empathic flash: he would feel the damage he inflicted on others even as he attempted to inflict it.

I figured that it didn't need to be lifelong thing (though we would tell him it was) -- I figured maybe ten years worth of it would do the trick.

So I made some of the preparations to creating a Circle, and Brads contacts showed up within the next half an hour.

Rowan was the first to show up with the obvious choice of a craft name offset by the fact that Rowan was male...quite thoroughly so. A full beard, and quite a covering of body fur. How he got there while wearing a full ball gown (victorian era, hoops and all) was a mystery to me. I was used to having fun with time and space, and I know I wouldn't have been able to negotiate those steep stairs in those hoops. He curtseyed with a smile upon being introduced to me.

Ian and Stuart showed up a few minutes later, and I had to admit surprise. They looked completely and unabashedly mundane. They shook hands with me in turn upon being introduced, and I thought I detected something odd about their Energy.

Frynne showed up last, a good 20 minutes later, the latest ("As usual" muttered Brad, "But she's VERY good at invoking"), and by far the most bizarre looking member of the group. What Stuart and Ian lacked in distinguishing characteristics were obviously taken, probably at gunpoint, by one of the strangest looking women I've ever seen before (or since). Her hair was this incredible shade of bright green, long and straight. She had on more earrings than any human being I had ever seen (this was before the piercing craze), this strange green leather (yes, GREEN leather) dress that looked like it had been through several wars (or riots). It was hard to make out her shape, as she was covered in accessories from head to toe, giving her the look of a walking curio shop.

In one hand she had a cane, as it seemed she walked with a limp. I noticed the handle was fashioned in some strange shape that I couldn't quite focus on.

She practically radiated energy, and the air of someone who was a lot older then she was...which couldn't have been more than 21, or I was 2. Of course, I've seen age limiting spells in action, but they usually could be spotted like one face lift too many.

"Yo, I want you to meet Fry..." Brad paused as Frynne walked right by us without so much as a nod, to stand over Doug, who was still sleeping like a rock...a drooling rock, mayhap.

She poked him in the side with his cane. "For THIS you had me walk 15 blocks?" she snorted.

"He's more trouble than he looks, Frynne. This is..."

"Yohannon. I know." She didn't sound very pleased.

I raised my eyes "You know? From where?" I had no sense of being scanned at any time, and it was unlikely that I would have let someone so obvious past my shields."

"You don't want to know...suffice it to say you're going to piss me off royally in a few years." Before I could open my mouth to protest (an activity I discovered to be pointless anyway, at least as far as the "green haired one" was concerned), she said "so, let's do it up. Who's going to play high priest?"

There was a pause, then all eyes turned to me as one. I sighed. "Okay, I guess this is my baby. Who'll play high priestess?"

"I will," said Frynne, cutting me off sharply. "What an annoying bitch," I muttered to myself. I was seriously beginning to hope that the great rite was strictly symbolic for this exercise, though I had a feeling it wouldn't be.

We started to form a circle, assigned the four directions (Frynne would take fifth), went over some of the details for the spell (no, I'll NOT spell them out here, especially considering what happened. You don't want that sort of thing to blow up in the face of amateurs, no matter how well meaning!).

Frynne went to start, only to bark "Will someone PLEASE wipe that drool off that idiots chin before I barf?" I was beginning to wonder if this woman WAS my Karma for what I was doing to Dougie.

If you've been to one Circle, you've pretty much seen them all. You trace out the circle, raise shields, raise power, call the corners, and so forth. One of the great misconceptions of magick lies with the idea that, if you just know the right ingredients and say the right words, anyone can do it.

If it were that easy everyone would be having sex in mid-air...or we would have demolished the solar system some millennium ago.

The fact is that all magick tends to be driven by a lot of concentration using parts of the brain that about 99.99% of the human race don't even realize they have access to. It's like that "blind" spot in your vision -- work on it long enough and it goes away.

It is, however, a lot of work, and most people take the attitude of "why don't you just turn your head and look at something straight on?". As magicians and martial artists would say, "because sometimes something will kill you before you get there."

Frynne had disrobed before we started, but it wasn't until we had finished casting the circle and met, facing one another, in the middle of the group, standing to either side of Dougie that I took a good hard look at who I was casting with. I felt vaguely ashamed of myself at this: I had no business working magick this strong and ignoring a key partner in the mix. She was, after all, doing me and Brad a favor. She could have just stayed home and did whatever it was she did on weekend evenings (which led me to wonder why she was home at all in the first place...she didn't strike me as a wallflower in any way).

I tried to make up for my mistake by taking her in completely then. She was smooth skinned and fairly hairless, with a body that reminded me of a ripe and well fleshed illustration from the Kama Sutra. She had incredible brown eyes and only a light fluff of black hair about her mound. She stood in a way that suggested a solid connection with the ground that I found appealing, in spite of my initial impression of her.

I realized that we were about to invoke the God and the Goddess to symbolically add energy to the rite. One of the fastest and simplest ways to do this was with a form of sacred sexuality known as the great rite.

Sex is pretty potent stuff. A lot of people never stop to wonder why so many religions get hung up on or prohibit outright open sexuality. Well, because sex is a powerful method of self-empowerment...or of control.

The great rite, when performed in a sacred space and under the right conditions, is a gateway to some pretty intense power. Guided by the participants some great rites have been known to change history.

Sex has always been like that. If you've ever been blessed with truly kick-ass sex, you've probably used the expression "I saw god". Well, you did, you just didn't do anything while you were looking at her.

She reached toward me, and I toward her. I felt little pressure to rush the act (lots of sex with lots of people tends to do that for you). I felt our hands meet mid way, no so much touching as blending and merging together.

I felt my body curve into her slowly, connecting a little bit more with every square inch of flesh that came in contact with my body. Closer, I became aware of her smell, a rich, musky scent that filled my nose and sent a rush of energy through the top of my skull. We hadn't even started the Rite yet, and already it was more intense than most of my sexual experiences to that date. I began to feel a little nervous.

I had been playing "with the big boys" (no pun intended) for awhile at that point. The realization that I was barely playing in the minors was a bit sobering. Was it sheer luck and chutzpah that had kept me alive until this moment, when I realized I had so much more to learn?

Before doubt could cripple me completely, I felt myself drawn into that first kiss.

Her lips were full and inviting, her mouth sweet. I felt like we were falling into each others mouths, slurped up like that last bit of chocolate shake at the bottom of the glass.

I don't remember lying down, but I suddenly felt my head against the floor, her body swinging up and over me, straddling my waist. Her fleshy pussy lips were pressed against my cock, already feeling so full it would burst. Oh, there was still no pressure to rush...even the physical urgency felt good and natural, like I was meant to be hovering like this, on the edge of physical pain.

She lifted her body slightly, and I felt myself spring upward. As she lowered down, I felt myself sink home into her body, her hot and wet juices dripping down ahead of her engulfing labia.

When she reached my lap, she shifted her legs forward. I remembered the cane, and realized that she was trying to avoid hurting her knees. I helped her legs around my waist, and wound up sitting up myself with her in my lap, her abundant strong thighs wrapped around me.

I found myself staring into those eyes as we connected fully, and the gateway opened.

I don't remember either of us thrusting into the other, nor any specific stroking. I just remember holding her, and coming in waves, over and over. Boring, I know...no wild bucking, no screams of passion (at least, I don't remember screaming).

I felt us soar through the universe and back again, a trip that took millennium.

The first thing I remember that could be termed "after" were her eyes again. Then, the sensation of our breathing slowly falling out of synch (I wasn't aware of it being in synch until we no longer matched). Then there was that feeling of losing grip on something too big for your head. That's comes with the territory, and I was prepared for it...though I knew I would probably be vulnerable for days afterward. That, and I had a hideously intense craving for Gatorade.

The only time I ever saw Frynne soft and open was during moments like those. Unfortunately, they tended to be a bit brief.

Her eyes hardened suddenly and she looked about, suddenly restless. "Where's my cane?" she asked querulously. I assumed that meant she wanted to get up, but when I offered my hands to assist her she ignored me.

It figures...some of the best magick I've ever made, and it was with an ice princess. Figures.

She got up and staggered away, and I began to take in my surroundings. Everyone looked a little dazed, and I noticed Brad looked worried to boot.

"Well, how'd it go?" I managed to ask.

Brad walked over and squatted down. "Uh..."

"Shit...it didn't work, did it? Damn, I thought for sure..." I paused, realizing something was missing from the room. "...uh, where's Dougie?"

Brad looked even more uncomfortable. "We don't know. We were working the spell and everything was going fine, when...well...there was this sudden surge of energy from you two, and he...uh...vanished."

I felt a bit dizzy, and not just from the rite. "Vanished?! That shouldn't have happened..."

"I know!" Brad looked positively pitiful, as if it were all his fault.

Beth came over and helped me up. I was pretty annoyed...after all, if we wanted to just make Dougie go away, there were a lot EASIER ways to do it. Unless he didn't just "go away", but went somewhere in particular.

Ian handed me a bottle filled with something cold and wet (to this day, I don't know what...I drank it way too fast), and I took a deep breath. "Well, folks, I guess we just have to trust the universe took care of Dougie. I just hope we didn't push it too hard to do so."

I would like to say the rest of the night was one fun-filled orgy, but I can't. Aside from the fact that Frynne acted like I wasn't really in the room for the remainder of the time I was there, which was enough to dampen any mood, I was also pretty wiped. I said my goodbyes, hugged everyone one on one and in groups, and got myself dressed (normally, than you very much. I don't think I could have done a card trick for the remainder of the night, as short as that was). I vaguely remember staggering home under the watchful eye of Brad and Beth, and somehow got put to bed after we removed the small pile of folded laundry that was the clothing that Brad had torn from me...how many hours earlier? Which led me to wonder where I had gotten he clothes I was wearing on the walk home...but then I was dead asleep.

I awoke sometime during late afternoon, judging from the sunlight streaming through the window. My first thought was to be impressed at my own stamina for only sleeping about 8 or 9 hours after all...until I discovered I had lost two days from the calender, and it was TUESDAY afternoon. Oh well.

I went to the small kitchen and chowed down a meal that would frighten the most robust gourmand, chugged that gatorade I had been craving, and took a LONG hot shower.

When I finally stumbled outdoors, It was nearly 5 o'clock, and the sun was getting pretty low.

I strolled toward Washington Square, hoping to get some bench space before the business men and students took over. I felt vaguely foggy in the way you get when you've slept after being awake for entirely too long doing entirely too much.

I cut left across the avenue to duck through a favorite alley shortcut, annoying the hell out of some cabbie who swore with an oddly familiar southern drawl and grey sideburns, which looked odd as he was almost completely bald.

After being flipped off by the King (one of the worst kept open secrets of NYC) I strode between the buildings, dodging past the dumpsters that were three weeks overdue for a pick-up, when I heard the sound of his voice. It stopped me cold, a chill running through me despite the unseasonable warmth.

"You fuckin' faggot."

I turned, mentally bracing myself for a physical attack. I was pretty rested, grounded, and ready for anything Dougie could throw at me. However, I needn't have worried...Doug was pretty crisp. I wondered just what we had done to him.

"Hey Dougie," I figured a light banter would be safest. "how you doing".

"Do you know what you did to me?! You *did* do this to me. You must have. You fuckers, you think you're so smart."

He started babbling. "Oh, try and deny it. I can't sleep. I fucking sleep, and I dream these dreams, long ones. And I'm in every one, only I'm not me...I'm who I'm with. You think I really care? Those bitches were asking for it, I don't buy the bullshit you have me...have them thinking. I was great for those bitches, you bastard. You dog fucking bastard, you..."

"Doug, I don't have time for this...I'm not doing anything." Oh wow, what a brutal "curse". It was pretty severe...but a perfect balance, if you think of it.

I was hoping that he would learn to appreciate the harm he had done in his life by getting a hint of what his victims felt. However, it's all in the asking, and when it comes to small, mortal minds sometimes the petty details get lost in the translation. A carefully worded speech detailing our needs could have taken days to recite, but the universe summed it up as: Balance this.

So it "balanced" Dougie.

"If you want to make it stop, stop hurting people". I didn't want to get into the fact that we inevitably hurt people, because we are fallible mortals -- but the sin lay not in the act, but in the enjoying of it. Of course, I don't personally believe in sin, but I had the feeling that Dougie wasn't up for a debate on philosophy.

I wish I could describe the look of utter hatred he gave me. I wondered if he might be capable of damaging me after all...and then remembered myself. Dougie wasn't capable of hurting me, and I suspected anyone else again.

He'd fall asleep eventually. And instead of dreaming, he would re-live every time he hurt someone.

As the victim of his own actions.

Made me wonder what kind of terrible things he might have done to make him so frightened. Forcible rape, sodomy, and all the demoralizing and terrible things that leave women damaged. And boys...I could see Dougie humping his horny teen age body onto some younger male cousin -- it certainly would explain a lot of his homophobia.

Poor bastard.

I didn't even wait to hear the rest of his ranting, I just said "Goodbye, Dougie. Remember, you can just call mom and dad if you need help." Yeah, it sounds mean, but I was trying to give him a shot at redemption. He was young, he might turn out alright after all.

Or he might kill himself first. I only hoped that we didn't set in motion something that would bring harm to an innocent.

As he screamed at my back, throwing whatever debris he could get his hands on toward me, I said a silent prayer for him.

I wasn't too surprised to see Brad at the park. He was saving a seat for me. Good thing, too, as the park was already packed.

"How you doing, sweetcheeks?" He asked me.

I sighed, and sat down, snuggling into his side. "I just ran into Dougie."

I couldn't see his face, but I could almost feel his eyebrows go up. Considering the connection we had formed the other night, perhaps I did. "Oh? I take it he's still breathing, then."

"Yeah...but really pissed."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

I opened my mouth to tell him what I had guessed, but realized there was no reason to drag Brad and the others into it. At least not then. "Nah, I can think of better uses of my mouth."

He winced. "What a TERRIBLE line!"

I pulled up and looked at him more directly "Can you think of something better?" And kissed him full on the lips in Washington Square park. He gasped into my mouth, his eyes wide.

I took my time and did the kiss right, and he eventually closed his eyes.

When we separated for air, he looked at me beaming. "Aren't you afraid of what people might think?"

I looked around at the park. Aside from the usual protests, political tables, drug deals, homeless pan handling, and the usual assortment of downtown weirdos with no visible means of support either physically or mentally, there were whole dimensions of crazy things going on that most everyone there saw, but pretended not to see. People were like that everywhere...I supposed if I floated ten feet into the air someone would decide I was just another advertisement.

"This is New York City, Brad. People here have seen EVERYTHING by now."

He pulled me close and whispered in my ear.

"Not yet, they haven't. At least, you haven't seen everything as far as I'm concerned".

I sighed...another sleepless night, no doubt.

I just loved New York. Shame it was destroyed in the Dimensional Shift Crisis of '89...

But that's another story.

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