[untitled]

Of course I wanted the book, it was the gold at the end of the rainbow, the whole reason behind

 

Magic in the first place, hundred of genius men that could bend the universe to their will putting the most powerful bits of knowledge into a book and then sealing it off for hundreds of years. The myths behind who has held it and written in it's pages, mighty kings and lowly bums transcribing reality between it's pages. The conspiracies surrounding it's enevitable dissapearance, the true reason Rome was sacked, the motive behind the Walls of Jericho, shadowy figures moving people around like pieces on a chess board.

 

It was secrecy itself and I meant to have it. But of course I wasn't alone in this pursuit so as I stood there in the dry desert sun holding my thumb out and smiling at passing motorists I thought about my opponents in this little race. The Mafia had someone idea of what it was, they were convinced it was some ancient Italian tome, the Vatican always eager to get their clammy little hands on any bit of occult material, the Government, I smiled and cast that possibilty from my mind.

 

But the most dangerous pursurers were people like me, individuals with one foot deeply in the paranormal, desperate drifters scrabbling for the one thing that could redeem the mad desire we all held in our soul. We were like pacing jaguars, hateful of the bars around our hearts and eager to show the world our true nature, I would rather go up against all the gangsters in the world than another magician.

 

 I thought about my own book and how long it had been since I had written anything of value, five months, a long time to keep fiery sigils in your mind, an eternity when you realise writing down the things that we all feel in our deepest being is the only way to properly excise them. Every magician, every wizard, every prophet kept a book, a hidden tome filled with scratches, scribbles that even they had trouble reading, indecipherable symbols in the margins, latin atop russian, covered with japenese kanji.

 

A pickup truck slowed down and let me hop in the passenger seat, I said my pleasentries to a short, chiseled, mexican man and told him I just needed a ride to the next town. As the miles rolled under us and the mountains loomed ahead my new friend asked me what I did in a clipped spanish accent,

 

"I'm a writer. I watch the world and I write."

 

The faithful pickup truck growled and roared down the desert highway kicking gravel behind it's smoky path, I looked in the side mirror and watched a hawk circle in the sky, I smiled and wondered how the mouse felt just then.

 

"Me, I build fences, my brother and I can build a fence that spans ten acres in a weekend, you know anyone else that can build a fence that quickly?"

 

Unaware I was still in a conversation I turned and looked at the driver,

"No, I don't, that's really impressive."

 

Inflated and smiling my chauffer grinned under his black sunglasses, "If you ever need a fence built just ask around for me, names Carlos."

 

"Sure thing, but I'm doing a lot of traveling now, I don't think I'll need a fence just yet."

 

It was nice to talk to a normal person, to not worry about what I was saying, wondering if his next words would be some elaborate labyrinth of lies I would have to sort out before finding the truth, waiting for the shoe to drop and the challenge to be laid, each of us trying to trip the other with big words and abstract lies. But with a good, normal person it was so much simpler, just smile and nod and keep the conversation going, nothing easier than that.

 

"When I was a kid I helped my uncle build a fence once, it was hard work."

 

Nodding Carlos showed me his palm which was scarred and covered with calluses, "See that, that's what you get from hard work."

 

I looked down at my palms, at the three concentric circles that were scarred into my left palm and the three sperate but overlapping circles that were scarred into my right. Power and knowledge were seprate ideals but together they could shatter the world, I still remembered the pain as the green fire poured into my left hand and spilled from my right like a broken fuel main, standing in a boarded up church screaming as I felt my insides burn to ash and my soul harden to steel. The knowledge of my power was the first lesson I learned on my own, the first of many since then.

 

Looking up from my hands I saw the first of  a few small buildings that made up my destination, the pickup came to slow stop and Carlos nodded at me, "Here you go, writer man, the nearest town, afraid I'm just here to buy feed for my chickens, but there's a bus station along the main street."

 

Thanking him for his kindness I stepped out into the dirty wind of the desert, I smiled against the onslaught and waved to Carlos as he rumbled down the street and vanished from view.

Looking down at my wrinkled blazer and dirty pants I lamented my condition before setting off for the bus station. The chase was on for the greatest secret of the world and my starting line was in a sad little Texas town, if I didnt know any better I'd say fate was against me from the beginning.