The Secrets of Magic and Metaphysics: Book One of the Chronicles of el Miron

THE SECRETS OF MAGIC AND METAPHYSICS

Balboa Press

Chapter One

I sat out in the car park and stared at the rain as it started to pelt against the windscreen of my car. I absently watched the shoppers scurrying for cover as I tried to let my mind drift aimlessly, but my thoughts kept returning to Mitchener's phone call.

"Come over at eight tonight, Stanley. I've cracked the code at last," he'd said. "Those old manuscripts finally gave up their secrets, and now I've got the evidence I need to proceed with those experiments."

Cracked the code? What did he mean by that? Mitchener was working on various projects and always had his head dipped into some old manuscript, but I don't remember him telling me about any secret code. And how was I going to explain this to Catherine? She thought I spent far too much time in Mitchener's lab as it was. After what seemed like eons, the rain eased to a light drizzle. I sighed as I stepped out of the car and made my way through the crowd to the florist. I hoped a bunch of red roses would do the trick.

The drive back through town was slow, and I was starting to show my impatience at being held up two streets away from my destination, when the traffic started to crawl forward again. As I turned onto Catherine's street, I started to calm down a little, only to be jolted into feelings of exasperation once more as I realised there were no handy parking spaces.

After finally squeezing into a space that wasn't too far away, I stepped out into light, misty rain. The fading light made everything look like I'd stepped into some sort of fairy glen as the tree-lined street faded off into greyness, and the passing car headlights splashed highlights of silvery white onto the wet road, adding to the eerie effect.

As I lightly ran up the steps of Catherine's cottage, the door slowly opened, and she stood there facing me, hands on hips. Her eyes fell upon the bunch of flowers I held, then back to the apologetic look on my face, and she smiled sweetly, masking her underlying emotions. "Why the roses, Stanley? Off to the lab again?"

"I'm truly sorry, Catherine. Mitchener said it was urgent and I—"

I was cut off midsentence as the door slammed in my face. The shock of it threw me back a pace, and I had to grab hold of the rail to keep my balance. Whoa, she had never reacted like that before, but I really couldn't blame her for being angry. These days she rarely got to see me, and when we did arrange to catch up, I usually ended up cancelling out because of my work.

I stood there looking at the door, not quite knowing what to do. I took a deep breath and tried to curb my annoyance. What a fool I'd been! Catherine was a dear friend, and I hadn't been fair or honest with her. I looked at the door as if seeing it for the first time. Funny, it seemed like there was something different about it, but I couldn't figure out exactly what. I knew the cottage had belonged to Catherine's parents, and that it was the place where she had grown up.

I really didn't know what to do, so I continued closely inspecting the door for a moment, wondering whether I should knock or give her a few minutes to calm down. Just as I was about to knock, the door opened unexpectedly, almost throwing me off balance again, and she stood there with a look of resignation on her lovely face.

"The roses are beautiful, Stanley," she said as she reached out for them. "Let me put them in water." She looked at me strangely then, and after an awkward pause, she invited me in.

I quickly followed her in before she changed her mind. "So, what is it this time?" she asked. Something in the way she looked at me told me that I'd have to be more open with her than I had been previously. Her big brown eyes looked almost luminescent in the soft light, luminescent and dewy at the same time, dewy and intense and perhaps slightly questioning.

"What's the matter with your eyes?" I asked, frowning.

"It's called tears, Stanley," she said, turning away.

I was beside her in two strides, and then she was in my arms. I kissed away her tears and sat her down on the lounge.

"Let me see if I can explain my involvement with Dr. Mitchener," I said, trying to choose my words carefully. "He doesn't just run a scientific lab, Catherine. He's, uh, into other things, into all sorts of things."

"Other things, all sorts of things?" She repeated slowly, looking at me with raised eyebrows and a penetrating glance, as she waited for me to continue. "What kind of things?"

There was silence as I hesitated, looking down at my shoes. "You want the whole lot, don't you?" I said as I raised my eyes to meet hers.

"All of it," she said. "I want to know exactly what's going on, Stanley."

"Um, well ... I guess I may as well jump in the deep end ... Mitchener is a magician."

"A magician!" She leaned back on the couch, one hand grasping at the padded arm. I saw both puzzlement and shock on her face.

I leaned toward her and took hold of her hand. "Not a stage magician, Catherine," I said gently. "I mean someone who is into metaphysics."

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" she said, visibly relaxing.

"You mean, you're not freaked?" I asked, amazed at her reaction. She shook her head, so I continued. "I didn't say it that way because he utilises the ancient laws of the sacred science of magic. Many have discredited the term magic to the point where most people hold it with some disregard."

"Well, yes, I did once," she said, "but please go on."

I looked at her guardedly, but there was only genuine interest in her expression, and I let out a silent sigh of relief as I said, "In reality, magic teaches the knowledge and the application of universal laws, the ultimate mastery of the elements."

She didn't respond for a long time, and I thought I'd overstepped the mark when she said, "That's a very far-out statement, Stanley, but I understand where you are coming from."

"You do? I didn't know you understood anything about magic!"

"I don't understand much about it at all, but I have read some articles from a reputable source. I just didn't think there was anything so close to home."

"Well, that's what Mitchener's involved in," I said warily, "and I'm one of his students."

She looked shocked, and her eyes looked huge in her pale face as she whispered, "I didn't realise you were that deeply into it; I thought it was just a scientific lab."

I looked directly at her and said quietly, "It's the most important part of my life. I always knew that I was different from other people, but it wasn't until I met Mitchener that everything fell into place."

She didn't answer immediately. She just sat there with a sort of blank look on her face. Then she rose rather quickly from the couch and said, "I'll make some tea, and we can talk about it further."

While she was gone, I glanced around the room with interest. Catherine had been redecorating the cottage for quite some time, but I had never really been interested in that sort of activity, so I hadn't paid much attention to what she had been doing.

The room felt different. I was struck by the simple charm of it as it emanated a very relaxing atmosphere. She had removed the drab coverings from the dark furniture and replaced them with soft pastel floral prints. As my eyes roved around the room, I noticed that the drapes were in the same soft prints. She had given the room life and warmth, with the feeling of a cozy country cottage, and I told her so as she entered with the tea.

She raised her dark brows in amazement. "I didn't think you noticed such things," she said.

I looked at her sheepishly. "It was more the feeling of the room that struck me," I replied. "Then I had a good look. You really have achieved wonders. It just feels so homey now. It feels good to be here."

She smiled her thanks as she poured the tea. After I had explained some of the basic principles of magic to her, she sighed as she spoke. "I guess I'll have to learn to live with it, then."

"You're not angry?"

"I was peeved because I didn't know what was taking up all of your spare time," she said, reaching for a biscuit. "You often work late with one of the girls I know from the lab, and I just wanted you to be honest with me."

"Ah, Susan and I have a lot in common, but it's mostly work related. We met when we were both members of another mystical order, but we're just very good friends."

She looked at me and smiled. "I know; I have friends like that, too." After a slight pause she said, "I know a little about metaphysics. I've collected quite a few books about various aspects of it."

Now it was my turn to be surprised. I looked at her for a long moment, almost seeing her properly for the first time. Shoulder-length brown curly hair framed a flawless complexion, and her eyelashes were thick and black. The remnants of her tears had made them spike together, giving her brown eyes more definition. It sort of gave her an elfin look. But there was something else there, too, a sadness or something I couldn't quite put my finger on, that gave her a look of maturity.

Catherine gave me a perplexed look. "Why the scrutiny, Stanley?"

"Oh, it's nothing," I said, shaking my head. I stood up and moved over to the bookcase, running my fingers across the polished wood before I answered her. "You surprised me, that's all; I didn't know you had an interest in metaphysics or magic." I looked over at her and smiled. "It doesn't matter what name it goes under; it means the same thing, really, particularly whenever authentic initiation is at stake."

"Initiation? You're really into it then, aren't you?" I heard the anxiety in her voice.

I walked back to her and smiled. "Hey, relax! It's nothing spooky; I'm not into witchcraft or black magic or anything like that. Just like kids take a test at the end of every school year to see how they're going, so the tests of life are referred to as initiations."

"Oh, yes," she said, "I see what you mean when you put it like that. But aren't there sort of ..." Her voice trailed away.

"Don't be confused about initiations," I said. "You've probably heard some mumbo jumbo in the past that's scared you. If you're interested, I'll fill you in some time, but if you're lucky enough to find a teacher to initiate you into the mysteries of the sacred sciences, we call it the practice of magic or metaphysics."

"But what has that got to do with the tests of life?" Catherine wanted to know.

"Well, usually at some point, you devote your life to helping others, and the test is—do you do it to gratify your own ego, to attain honour and glory—or do you become a seeker of wisdom and truth, a world server, ready to impart your knowledge selflessly to those who ask?"

I saw a small frown pucker her brow. "But isn't that discipleship?"

She caught me unaware. "Huh?" I looked at her incredulously. "How do you know about that?"

She gestured toward the bookcase. I walked back and dropped to my haunches and peered at the titles. Most of the books dealt with subjects such as mysticism, prophecy, ancient civilizations, personal growth, astrology, Tarot, and metaphysics. There were also numerous bibles and other texts.

I turned away deep in thought. How could I have missed it? How could I have been so blind? Now, I knew what the attraction was. Subconsciously I had picked up on it; it just hadn't filtered through to brain consciousness. I hadn't really spent much time at her cottage, either. I only vaguely remembered the bookcase.

She interrupted my reverie with a startling revelation. "My father gave me the bibles and the books on ancient civilizations and spiritualism. Just before he died, he discovered that there had been other records of virgin births in many of the old cultures, and he was interested in how they correlated with our Christian teachings and whether the stories were analogies or, in fact, had some credence to them. He did discover some of the cultures, but he always said he hoped to find more."

"Really? That's very interesting. Um, whereabouts?" I managed to mumble as my mind raced to keep up with what she was saying.

"China, India, Persia, and South America, I think."

"Have you done any study on the Bible yourself, Catherine?"

"Oh, yes, I have enjoyed delving into Father's notes, and I've come to appreciate the fact that unless you know the code, you can't gain an accurate interpretation."

There it was again, the code. The code! I'd completely forgotten that Mitchener was waiting for me at the lab. "Catherine, I'm supposed to be at the lab!" I shrieked.

After a hurried good-bye, I ran out into the fading twilight. Phew, the rain hadn't done much to cool things down. Or maybe I was just hot and bothered because of what had unfolded with Catherine. The air seemed oppressive even at this time of night.

I jumped into my car and turned the ignition. Nothing! Oh, no! This was all I needed now. I glanced out of the rear vision mirror and turned the ignition once more. Still nothing! I looked in the mirror again. There was a car parked in the shadows a little distance behind me. The nose was exposed in a spot of light coming through the trees. It was a Porsche 911 Turbo. I had seen one similar to that at the shopping complex; there were not too many of those around. I tried the ignition again; absolutely nothing. I fumbled to release the seat belt. Drat, it was stuck. Eventually it released, and I almost fell out of the car, legs running before they hit the ground.

I arrived back at Catherine's place out of breath and explained the situation. She offered to take me to the lab herself. As we drove away, I noticed the sports car pull out and sit a comfortable distance behind us. Now, this could have been just a coincidence, but I got an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Catherine looked at me briefly, giving me one of her radiant smiles. "So," she said, "tell me a little bit more about the mastery of the elements."

I grinned back and paused for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain such a difficult subject in terms that she could easily understand. "Well," I said finally, "what do you know about the elements yourself?"

"Only what I've read in the books on astrology." Catherine turned and looked at me briefly before concentrating on the road again. "I know they are called fire, air, water, and earth, and that your birth date indicates a particular element."

I told her I didn't know much about the astrological aspect and asked her to explain more fully, hoping she would open up to me so I could assess her knowledge.

She nodded. "I'll do my best." Then after a pause, "Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius are fire signs, and if you think about people born under those star signs you'll probably find them quite dominant with a quality of excitement about them. They like to connect to their element, they like the sun, and, like fire itself, they always seem to be the 'too busy, can't relax' types."

I nodded as I said, "And what about the other elements? What about the sign of Aquarius?"

She turned and gave me a quick smile before replying. "Aquarius is one of the air signs. Most of the Air sign people I know can be distinguished by the quickness of their thought and wit. They are usually kind, optimistic, and cheerful, but they do tend to gossip a bit," she said with a chuckle, "and some of them never worry about time." She thought for a moment and then continued. "The water signs are the emotional people; they live by what they feel. We can observe qualities of compassion, devotion, and tenderness in these people, but they are more introverted than the fire/air people."

"Uh huh, and the earth signs?" I asked.

She told me she needed time to collect her thoughts, so we drove in silence for a few minutes. I glanced outside. The traffic was getting heavier, and I felt anxious about the time. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, as there was nothing I could do about it.

Catherine jolted me back to the present when she spoke. "Stanley, I'm only giving you a general description of these signs, but I remember that the elements produce certain temperaments, and I think the earthy element produces the phlegmatic temperament."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from THE SECRETS OF MAGIC AND METAPHYSICS by Lynette Asmar Copyright © 2012 by Lynette J. Asmar. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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