And the Fatal Vision
“Well that’s… concerning.” Harry commented. “You reckon Jake would know anything? This seems up his alley.”
“It’s worth a shot?”
Walking back over to Cassandra, Harry pulled his phone out and called Jacob.
“Hey Jake, ya got anything on bleeding trees?”
“That’s… weirdly niche. Virgil has a bleeding myrtle tree in the Aeneid, which eventually makes Aeneas’ hands impious. Mani, Manichaeism’s prophet, mentioned bleeding vegetables as a sign of metempsychosis, human to non-human reincarnation and vice versa. Torquato Tasso has Tancredo cut into a bleeding tree which pleads with his lover’s voice, who he murdered by mistake.”
“Anything in those about bleeding trees feeding on death?”
“No… well, there is the one thing.”
“What is it?”
“Dante’s Inferno. One of the parts of Hell is for people that kill themselves. They turn into trees that get attacked by harpies, and they bleed from the cuts.”
“That… might be something. Thanks Jake.” Harry replied, hanging up.
“What did he say?”
“There’s something in Dante’s Inferno, bleeding trees in Hell made from suicide victims.” Harry replied. “We’re running out of time, though, I can feel it.”
“We need to stop it before the accident, but we don’t know what it is.” Cassandra muttered. “If we just knew what the accident was…”
“Well, there is one way…” Harry tentatively began.
“What do you-“ Cassandra replied, immediately realizing what he meant. “You are not getting dragged into a death prophecy!”
“Listen, if this network is the basis for the FD franchise and its rules, we have to play by the rules to beat it, that’s how it goes. Plus, we really do need the information to stop the accident.”
“Then it should be me! I’m not trying to downplay the experience you’ve had before, but I have more experience than you, especially with weird magical interactions.”
“But do you know how to interpret the vision?” Harry asked. “Or the signs that’ll follow after it? You might have more field experience, totally valid argument Cassie, but I have more knowledge about how this’ll work.”
“You can help me interpret the vision.”
“Except you might not include details that would be relevant.”
Ignoring Cassandra’s further protests, Harry walked up to the tree again and, ignoring everything in his brain telling him not to, placed his hand on the tree and spoke.
“Vaticinor mortis intendo.”
As he finished speaking, Harry’s vision was immediately filled by the vision. A signboard malfunctioning, a speaker announcing a delay to the South Shore Line schedule, a flash of the Amtrak logo, a sparking wheel, a window breaking, and then the crash. As soon as it had started, it came to an end, Harry slamming back into awareness.
“Okay, the nine thirty a.m. Amtrak line to Chicago. Three days from now. That’s what it’s gonna be.” Harry said. “But now we really need to get this dealt with. As soon as it happens, I’ll be in the lineup, and I don’t think being in the Library would help much.”
—O—
“Fascinating.” Jenkins commented as he scanned Harry with some whirring device. “Absolutely fascinating. I am fairly certain the artifact in question is one that has long eluded the Library.”
“Which would be?”
“The Sapphire of Mors, the Roman counterpart to the Ruby of Thanatos.” Jenkins replied, looking at the screen on the tool. “They both feed on death, but the Sapphire is, according to accounts, more… dramatic.”
“Well, seeing as it keeps causing mass accidents, and kills off the survivors one by one, I’d have to agree.” Harry said, turning around. “How do we get it, though?”
“Ah, yes, well, you will have to open the tree, and then extract the Sapphire and replace it a fire opal.” Jenkins answered, turning to one of the many drawers in his lab. “But! This is very important, you must not touch it. Making skin contact will cause the Sapphire to drain whoever holds it of their life force.”
Handing Harry a fire opal and Cassandra a silk bag, Jenkins sighed.
“Do make certain Mr. Potter survives. Honestly, forcing a death vision! Of all the foolish things a Librarian has done, that? That certainly ranks highly.”
—O—
“Zeke! Your talents are needed!” Harry called out as he reentered the main room of the Annex.
“What d’ya need Meeks?”
“You to get us-“ Harry said, gesturing to himself and Cassandra. “Into the town hall when it’s night. You’re a bona fide Sandiego, shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
As it turned out, it was a touch more difficult. Well, not the break-in part; that was easy. It was the after that was… complicated.
“Ah, the Undertaker.” Harry said. “Fuck.”
“I cannot allow you to proceed further, Mr. Potter.” The Undertaker stated.
“Hey, let’s take this easy.” Harry said, eyeing Cassandra, hoping she had heard the plan he was thinking. “Say, are you purely magical, or are you a regular guy who was turned into the Undertaker?”
“An intriguing question.” The Undertaker replied. “I suppose I’ll humor you, as you won’t live particularly long. I am both, yet neither. The body itself was not magically made, but there was no person inside before my creation.”
“So, was it a homunculus then?”
“A marble figure, into which I was imbued, bringing it to life, much like Galatea.” The Undertaker responded. “But the time for discussion is over, Mr. Potter. I do hope you enjoyed your life.”
As soon as the Undertaker drew near, Harry started walking back, taking long paces. He couldn’t help but laugh at the shock on the Undertaker’s face when he couldn’t get closer.
“Blumhardt loop. Traps most magical beings.” Harry said, moving to the tree and placing his hand on the tree. “Apertum.”
—O—
“And this-“ Jenkins said, holding the silk bag in his hands. “Will be going in the Roman wing. My congratulations, Mr. Potter, for handily dealing with your first case with minimal danger.”
Watching as Jenkins walked into the Library, Harry turned back to the other Librarians.
“So, scale of one to ten, how’d the first case go?” Harry asked.
“Gonna have to go ten, if only ‘cus you got to deal with, basically, a horror villain.” Ezekiel replied.
“Six. Ya got yourself tangled in a death prophecy. General wisdom is you avoid those.” Jacob replied.
“I’d say a seven. You might have become part of what sounds like it was a narrative curse, but it wound up helping us identify the artifact.”
“Ay! Nothing below a five! I’m taking the win.” Harry said. “Now, Zeke, this place have a theatre? ‘Cus Cassie hasn’t seen the Final Destination movies, so we obviously have to fix that.”