Part 11 (1/2)
He nodded.
”All right, back to good energy and evil energy. Between this energy and what most of the world considers reality, is a barrier. For lack of a better term, let's keep calling it the fabric of the universe. Those who use magic learn to pierce this barrier and draw off the energy they need. Unfortunately, it also gets pierced by accident.” She took a long swallow of coffee. ”In order to continue, I'm going to have to grossly oversimplify, so please don't think that I'm insulting your intelligence.”
”Okay.” It still seemed to be the safest response.
”Every time someone does something good, it pokes a hole through the fabric, releases some of the good energy, and everybody benefits. Every time someone does something evil, it releases some of the evil energy and everybody suffers.”
”How good?” Dean wondered. ”And how evil?”
”The holes are proportional. If say, you sacrificed yourself to save another or conversely sacrificed another to save yourself, the holes would be large.” She paused to watch raindrops. .h.i.t the window behind his head, the drops merging until their weight pulled them in tiny rivers toward the ground. ”The problem is that small holes can get bigger. Evil oozing out a pinp.r.i.c.k inspires more evil which enlarges the hole which inspires greater evil... Well, you get the idea.”
”Unless he's dumber than kibble,” Austin growled. ”I can't believe that was the best you could come up with.”
Claire stared down at him through narrowed eyes. ”All right. You come up with a better explanation.”
Twisting around on the chair seat, the cat pointedly turned his back on her. ”I don't want to.”
”You can't.”
”I said, I didn't want to.”
”Ha!”
”Excuse me?” Dean waved a hand to get Claire's attention. ”Is that what happened in the furnace room? Someone did something evil and accidentally made a hole?”
”Not exactly,” she said slowly, trying to decide how much he should know. ”Some holes are made on purpose. There are always people around who want what they're not supposed to have and are arrogant enough to believe they can control it.” Recalling an accident site she'd come upon her first year working solo, she shook her head. ”But they can't.”
Dean read context if not particulars in the movement. ”Messy?”
”It can be. I once found a body, an entire body, in the glove compartment of a 1984 Plymouth Reliant station wagon.”
”The 1.2 liter GM, or the Mitsubis.h.i.+ engine?”
”Does it matter?”
”It does if you need to buy parts.”
Claire drummed her fingernails against the tabletop. ”I'm talking about a body in a glove compartment, not a shopping trip to Canadian Tire.”
”Sorry.”
”May I continue?”
”Sure.”
”Thank you. Most holes can be taken care of with the magical equivalent of a caulking gun. Some are more complicated, and a few are large enough for a significant amount of evil to break through and wreak havoc before anything can be done about them.”
His eyes widened, appearing even larger magnified by the lenses of his gla.s.ses. ”Has this ever happened?”
She hesitated, then shrugged; this much she might as well tell him. ”Yes. But not often; the sinking of Atlantis, the destruction of the Minoan Empire...”