Grander Than the Sea (Marla Mason)

Marla Mason Series

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Meet Marla Mason-smart, saucy, slightly wicked wi… More. Grander Than the Sea by T.

Marla Mason

Marla Mason, chief sorcerer of the coastal city o… More. Shelve Grander Than the Sea. Poison Sleep by T. The bad girl of the magical underworld is back an… More.

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Dead Reign by T. Death has come calling, and one woman has what he… More. Spell Games by T. Brain-eating fungi, wannabe sorcerers, long-lost… More. Broken Mirrors by T. Serialized online novel which continues the story… More. Shark's Teeth by T. Marla, bored in her forced exile in Hawaii, goes… More. Little Better than a Beast by T. Marla Mason has faced a lot of tough adversaries… More.

Shelve Little Better than a Beast. Grim Tides by T.

See a Problem?

Marla Mason, ousted chief sorcerer for the city o… More. Bride of Death by T. It even had a creek and a duck pond and a botanical garden.

Husch held a ghastly long white dress embroidered at the neck and sleeves with lace flowers. Vaughn is from a different era. Do you really want to listen to him go on about the evils of women in trousers for an hour? But I'm not wearing any of the petticoats or whatever. I wouldn't know where to begin. Picking up a big handful of dog crap doesn't daunt me, but that doesn't mean I want to do it. Her old mentor, Artie Mann, had made her dress up for a party once, when she'd first met the city's other sorcerers, but that was the last time.

And at least that dress had been short enough to make kicking people easy, when it became necessary. Husch and Rondeau left the room, and Marla shed her loose cotton pants and shirt for the dress. It was tight in the waist and bigger on top than she needed, and she wondered if it had been one of Dr. Husch's -- it seemed more suited to her curves. Marla tugged the fabric fruitlessly away from her belly.

Rondeau tried not to stare at Marla, without much success, and she tried to ignore him, with similar results. He nodded once, then kept his eyes on his feet. Husch unlocked a large iron door, incongruous in the wall of a formal sitting room. A wide white hospital corridor waited beyond. This whole building used to be a private residence, of course. Annemann's mansion," Marla said. So, before we go into the dark corridors filled with madness and all that, I was wondering, how do you keep sorcerers in here? I mean, are there some kind of magical barriers that prevent them from using their powers, or what?

Nah, the doc just makes sure they don't get any books or chalk or skulls or bells or potions or whatever they liked to use for making magic when they were sane. A necromancer isn't much good without corpses to animate, and a pyromancer's not dangerous if you keep her in a chilled concrete room. It's like how you'd stop an axe murderer. You just lock them up someplace and make sure they never, ever get their hands on another axe.

Husch said, lingering by the door. Those are kept restrained and gagged, as necessary, for their own protection. She wasn't sure she could do something like that -- not without preparation, at least -- but it was nice to know Rondeau thought she could. The land here is magically neutral. She hadn't realized that. No ancient Indian burial grounds? No restless ghosts of past atrocities? No psychic residue left over from epic battles or blood vendettas fought on this spot?

Annemann chose the location very carefully. He didn't want outside magical influences to affect his experiments. There's not much inherent magical energy in this area for our patients to draw upon. Most places had something occultish about them. In another hundred years, this will be a very magically potent location. But for now, the effects haven't soaked into the earth. We try to give each of them as much space as possible.

Vaughn was famous, or rather, infamous," Dr. Perhaps you've heard of her. They still told stories about her, when I first came to Felport. How she'd suck all the fluids out of your body with a kiss. Gustavus Lupo, the skinchanger, who lost track of his flesh one day and built a new body of the angry dead. A powerful psychic named Genevieve with a mind broken by trauma. Norma Nilson, who did not so much kill her enemies as crush them with despair until they begged permission to take their own lives.

I serve them as well as I can. What's his mental malfunction, anyway?

Despite the nautical theme, the room smelled of dust, not ocean. Husch called, and a small old man bustled in from another room. He wore an elegant gray suit, and his eyes were the darkest blue Marla had ever seen. Hands clasped behind his back, he bowed, and said "Thank you for coming to see me, Miss Mason. We have much to discuss. Husch, and took no notice whatever of Rondeau. Hail Xorgotthua, and good day. Little old men who hailed Xorgotthua -- whoever or whatever that was -- weren't necessarily harmless, but if he was too dangerous for Marla to handle, Rondeau wouldn't be much help anyway.

They left, and the door shut behind them. Vaughn gestured to an armchair, and Marla sat down, remembering to keep her legs demurely together. Marla rubbed her hand on the arm of the chair and said "Is this sharkskin? Why did you want to see me, Mr. The ferry I sank, so that the screams of the dying might nourish the lord of all depths? So he was a religious fundamentalist. They always creeped her out. But it didn't work? To raise Xorgotthua, I made a sacrifice to the waters, to wake the god. Then, a hundred years later, there must be another sacrifice, as large as the first, to entice the god to the surface, and onto the land.

It is a long time to wait, but the attention spans of gods are not like those of men, and a hundred years is but a moment to Xorgotthua. The time for the second sacrifice is only a few days away. I want you to stop the other me. So do I ring a bell or something to get Dr. Death is generally a prerequisite to reincarnation. That's part of what I was thinking.

It is not true reincarnation.

You know the technique of putting your soul in a stone, to be retrieved later? It tends to turn the soulless sorcerer into a pretty unsympathetic bastard with no sense of proportion, but it's a way to preserve your life. But then I made a perfect copy of the stone where I kept my soul, through a certain alchemical process. I restored my original soul to this body, and left the copy in a safe place near the docks in Felport, with instructions to activate a few months prior to the centennial of my first sacrifice.

It was a backup plan, you see.

Get A Copy

If I died, or became incapacitated, my backup soul would be there to complete the ritual and raise Xorgotthua. Souls floating around loose aren't good for much. You mean a person. Such an honor for the vessel, too, being given the opportunity to help raise Xorgotthua. The urge to strangle Vaughn had not passed, but it was under control. That's how I found out you were the, ah, person in charge.

But I do not think this communication goes both ways. I've had no indication he sees what I see. Where can I find him? I will not help you stop him unless you help me. Deep-sea fishing or something? I can talk to the doc. What I want is for you to stop my reincarnation, so that I can be the one to raise great Xorgotthua.

It should have been me. I cannot bear the thought of this copy of myself raising the god while I languish here, to die with everyone else when the waves cover the land. My copy was meant as a last resort, if I was dead or in a coma, but I am aware, and here, and quite capable of completing the ritual on my own. Sorry, doesn't sound like something I want to pursue. I can make sure you and your city are spared.

My copy will show no such mercy, I assure you.

Marla Mason Series in Order - T.A. Pratt - FictionDB

But if you let me be the one who wakes the god, I will use my influence to convince it to spare your home. He extended his hand. If a great dark god really was rising from the sea, such bargains might be necessary, but she wasn't ready to concede defeat yet. I think I'll look for your copy on my own. I brought you here to make an arrangement.

You'll never find him without me. If you don't help me, the death of your city is a foregone conclusion. I offer your only hope. Take it, or face the consequences. When he picked up, she said "Hey, tell the Doc I'm done here. Like you won't jump at the chance if I come back in two days and tell you it's a deal. What, you're going to turn up your nose and refuse to help me because I snubbed you today?

He glowered at her. When you return to beg for my assistance in a day or two days, I will know I have the power, and will drive a much harder bargain. He believes in the great god Xorgothhua, but no such god exists. There is no record of such a creature in any oral or written tradition I have consulted. Vaughn claims the god has inspired countless followers through the ages, and has been worshipped by many societies, but it's just not true.

Vaughn began talking about Xorgotthua after he nearly drowned in the mids, and his delusion intensified over time, becoming ever more baroque and sophisticated. It was considered a harmless eccentricity, until he arranged the ferry disaster. Then Felport's elite sorcerers realized he was a danger, and had him put away here. You wouldn't believe the stuff he told me.

Rondeau was on the other side, sitting on a couch, watching a television screen. He did know your name, and your position among Felport's sorcerers, and other details of daily life in the city he should not be privy to. I think he is probably telling the truth about this double of his, and his plans to conduct a sacrifice in a few days.

The Bay Witch -- who'd once been named Zufi, back when she was a surfer girl, before she became a student of the hidden arts -- sat at the other end of the bench. She was blonde and dressed in a black wetsuit, a puddle of sea water spreading all around her. But I needed to talk to you anyway. You don't answer me. Unfortunately the best bid is from Ernesto, who wants to gather all the pollutants to create a filth elemental to smite his enemies. I'm thinking of accepting it, but I need to find out who his enemies are first.

Probably nothing, but there's -- " "Let me guess. There's a crazy guy hanging around, talking about raising a dark sea god named Xorgotthua? He was pretty irritated when nobody wanted to join his cult. He promised they'd all die if they didn't join him, the usual.

Nobody took him seriously. He's just a kid, can't be more than seventeen. I felt kind of bad for him, but he was creepy, too. Let's say I needed to get a giant squid in a few days. Just out in the bay, you know. Waving tentacles around, the whole deal. Think you could hook that up? If it's doable -- if -- I'd need some serious payback. I'd have to burn a lot of power and influence over something like this, and I'm guessing you don't even want to tell me why.

You're the chief sorcerer of Felport, and the way you feel about the city? That's how I feel about the bay. She shook her head. Meet me back here tomorrow. Marla spent the afternoon talking to her various friends and informants by the boardwalk, the docks, and the boat harbor, but no one had seen the crazy guy lately. If Marla was going to find him, she'd have to get more creative. It was an occupational malady. Where do you want it? Can you handle that? What, are you trying to scare away a sperm whale or something? Where can I get a lot of seashells and other ocean crap like that?

Marla examined herself in one of the long mirrors in the dressing room of Rondeau's night club. It had been a strip club, once upon a time, and still had all the backstage facilities, though these days the only performers were DJs. She adjusted the bit of fishing net she wore as a cloak, and tugged the cascade of shell necklaces around so they didn't drag quite so heavily on her neck.

Husch said, emerging from the bathroom. Even dressed in sailcloth, net, and shells, she managed to look regal. She had a wicked whip hanging from her belt, a scourge with ends tipped by fishhooks. Better if the original Mr. Vaughn didn't recognize them while looking through his copy's eyes. Husch ran her finger along the top of a vanity, wrinkling her nose at the dust. Annemann owned this place. Husch had worked for him. They were in the back of an empty dive bar near the docks, sipping drinks and trying to ignore the smell of old beer and fish.

Marla felt a little self-conscious in her sea-witch getup, and the mask cut her peripheral vision down more than she liked. The bartender clearly thought they were nuts, too, but image was important in situations like this.

If Vaughn's copy is paying attention, he'll hear word. And if he does come in, well, we're kind of hard to miss. You know Rondeau likes you. I doubt he's very discriminating in his tastes. You can understand why I might be wary of men? But Rondeau doesn't know your origins -- I promise -- so you don't have to worry so much about his expectations. A young man in a t-shirt and swimming trunks came through the door, sunlight streaming in around him.

He saw them in the back of the bar and started coming their way. The bartender shouted at him. This must be our zealot. Marla sipped her beer before answering. I am the priestess of Xorgotthua, yes.

Categories

And who are you, child? I am the reincarnation of Roger Vaughn himself! I have come, with my followers, to complete the work he began so long ago.

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