Hidden Wishes Omnibus

by Tao Wong

  As Lily smiled, I felt a chill go through my body.

  Chapter 9

  Five feet tall, red, muscular, and naked with a pair of horns, a whiplike tail, and tiny wings that couldn’t support a bat, the imp raised his fist, ready pound me into the floor again in the back kitchen of the Italian mom-and-pop shop we were battling in. Thankfully, the imp was a lot like my high school bullies, all strength, no finesse, and the haymaker he threw was telegraphed from a mile away.

  I ducked underneath the punch, losing a precious second as I wobbled on my feet, my balance still a bit shot from earlier blows. I twisted my fingers in a circle and pointed as I chanted the words “Force Missile.” A ball of blue and green formed in the circle, shooting forward as I finished chanting and pointing, striking the imp in its chest.

  Force Missile Cast

  89% Synchronicity

  Force Bolt does 15 damage to Lesser Imp.

  The attack just pissed the imp off further, and it swung a tight uppercut that caught me in the chest, throwing my frail form backward. I smashed into the closed refrigerator door and groaned, the back of my head sending pain signals from where it had been knocked around even further.

  Henry Alfred Chan Hock Tsien dealt 23 damage by Lesser Imp.

  Even as I twisted my fingers around to cast another spell, the imp battered my hand away disdainfully. Through tear-filled eyes, I stared at my would-be murderer.

  Lesser Imp (Level 4)

  HP: 13/43

  Before the monster could finish me off, a thrown cast-iron pan caught it on the back of its head. I swore I saw a little red -1 float off the top of its head, though I wasn’t sure if that was just the incipient concussion or an actual artifact of Lily tinkering with the wish. The imp, distracted, turned around and stalked to its new prey.

  “Do something!” Chantelle Rossi, the imp’s attacker and my current quest-giver, screamed at me as she scrambled around the kitchen for more things to throw at the monster.

  Reminded I wasn’t part of the audience in this life-or-death struggle, I cast my Force Missile spell. Once again, I received a notification with an 84 percent synchronicity rate, more than enough to deal the damage needed to end the imp. This time, when the Force Missile hit, it cracked the monster’s skull, leaving its corpse slumped against the sink. I groaned, sitting down as I stared at the blinking blue bar that indicated I had nearly no mana left.

  Lesser Imp (Level 4) Defeated!

  My benefactor was not taking the sudden change in fortunes in stride, instead having scooped up a pan to smash the dead monster around a few more times. Only when it did not attempt to defend itself did she stop. Chantelle stood over the dead monster, long, black hair disheveled and white blouse popped open, green blood staining it. When she turned to me, eyes sparkling with fury, her lips pulled into a snarl.

  “You! You were hired to fix the problem, not make it worse,” she snapped as she stalked toward me, waving the bloody pot in her hand. A piece of pasta, resiliently holding on against the tyranny of gravity, finally succumbed and dropped to the ground, landing by her feet. This, thankfully, made her pause in her tirade long enough for me to get a word in.

  “Sorry! I… it was just supposed to be a level-four imp!” I spluttered as I pushed myself up, my chest aching as I breathed. Damn demon had fists like boulders.

  “What do you mean ‘level four’?” the raven-haired proprietress said, shaking her head. “Look at this mess. You’re going to cost us more to have the place fixed up than the damage the imp was doing!”

  At Chantelle’s accusation, I slowly—very slowly as my neck and head were still throbbing—surveyed the room. Shattered glassware, spilled food, a few broken cupboards, and a hole in the microwave from an errant Force Missile greeted my eyes in quick succession.

  “Sorry… I’ll, ummm…”

  “We’re taking the imp’s body. And don’t expect to get paid!”

  “But… I—”

  A quick shake of the pot was enough to make me back down. A few more apologies and I finally managed to extricate myself from the kitchen and Rossi’s, her family restaurant, without being beaten to death. Outside, I paused for a second to take in the beautiful, clear day and breathed in the clear, clean air. On the opposite side of the street, a few others stared at me strangely, basking in the sunlight, including a bespectacled teenager who was actually glaring. I had to smile as I relaxed and shook off the berating I had received. I was alive and learning magic. What else could I ask for?

  ***

  As I got out of my Ryde and tapped my phone to acknowledge having been dropped off, I found myself grateful I’d decided to skip biking. My head throbbed, my back spasmed, and I found myself fumbling my keys to my basement suite. I kicked the door closed behind me, whimpered at the loud noise, and crashed on my futon.

  When I woke up later that evening, almost all my injuries were healed once again. A quick perusal of the notifications explained things to me.

  Henry Alfred Chan Hock Tsien is well rested. +5% Experience Gain for 4 hours.

  Henry Alfred Chan Hock Tsien has gained 37 health points due to resting.

  Huh. I really needed to get Lily to stop messing with the notifications, but ever since she’d seen a bill with my full name, she’d been on this kick of putting it everywhere. As my stomach growled, I got up to throw a ready-made pizza in the oven. I turned my head to stare at the jinn who was hovering over my computer. I had thought picking up a second laptop for myself would have freed up a computer for my use. Instead, Lily had just decided to take them both over and was running two different games at the same time.

  “That was not a level-four imp,” I grumped at Lily. Silence lingered for so long I thought she might not have heard me, punctuated only by the tapping on the keyboard and click of her mouse.

  “Yes, it was,” Lily said. “You just suck at fighting.”

  “I’m supposed to be good at it?” I muttered, shaking my head. The imp had been my second combat quest, and I had to admit, she was right. At least I hadn’t gotten bitten, but it wasn’t as if I’d ever had any real experience fighting for my life. Scraps with schoolyard bullies and the occasional mugging did not count after all. I wasn’t a soldier or police officer or a martial artist. I was just a guy who liked computer and role-playing games and had found a magic ring.

  “You ready for the next one?” Lily asked. “Goddamn noob, do your job…”

  “Ummm…” I glared at Lily, but since she wasn’t bothering to look up, the glare did just about nothing. In the end, I gave up. “You know, I’m new at this, but calling me a noob is a little rude.”

  “Not you. It’s this damn cleric. Can’t heal for shit. I’m dying here,” Lily said, a hand briefly waving at her game. She turned her head to the side, eyeing the other game before returning to the one she was focused on. It seemed in the second game, she was flying some spaceship that was moving on autopilot, stars shifting as she kept turning and jumping. “Though, if the shoe fits…”

  “Whatever,” I growled. “You said you have a new quest?”

  “Take your pick,” Lily said, pointing to a pile of papers. I frowned, walking to them, picking them up, and scanning the headlines.

  Persistent Slime Mold is Eating Away My Floors. Clean It Out! $200

  Leprechaun Escapee. Capture and Return. No Corpses! 185 Gold Coins and a Brindell Tulip

  Become a Hellhound Trainer! No Special Skills Required. We Will Train on the Job! Fair Compensation.

  The Grey Angels Hospice is Looking for Healers! Volunteer Your Time with Our Great Staff and Residents.

  Required – an Experienced Exorcist! $350

  Gremlin Squatter Removal. $500

  I stared at the printouts, a sneaking suspicion confirmed when I looked at the web address printed on the top. “Is this a classifieds website?”

  “Mmmhmmm… hey! Give that back,” Lily shouted a moment later as I pulled my new laptop onto my lap.<
br />
  “Hush.” I tabbed away from her game. Within seconds, I was at the site. Or what would have been the site if not for a big “Password Protected” sign. A couple seconds of fumbling indicated Lily had not saved her password either. “How do I get in?”

  “You don’t,” Lily said, tapping furiously at her keyboard for a few seconds before turning to me. “That’s way too much responsibility for you right now.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m just going to browse it.”

  “Too dangerous.”

  “Browsing?” I said. “I promise not to download any viruses.”

  “And how about spells, demonic entities, and mana taps?”

  “Uhhh…” I paused, pushing the laptop away from me slightly. “Demons can come through the web?” That just sounded like a bad B-movie setup.

  “Not normally, but that website isn’t on the normal Internet. It’s a separate dimensional nexus that the supernatural use, and the defenses that have been applied against such incursions are relaxed there. Otherwise, only entities on this dimension could post on it,” Lily said.

  At her words, I edged even farther away from my laptop, my eyes wide. “There are other-dimensional beings posting on that!? Like gods and demons and Lovecraft monsters?”

  “And angels. Jinn. Fae. Dragons. Ice giants,” Lily continued on. “Of course there are. Merl’s Web is the most popular communication form right now. Not that there aren’t competing sites, but Merl seems to have kept up with the times.”

  “Merl… Merlin?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Yes. The old codger might be trapped, but he’s still got his hand in the pie.” Lily shook her head. “Once I got back in touch with him, he pointed me to the site.”

  “Merlin’s alive.” I sat with a thump, staring at Lily. You’d think that after months of all this, I would have gotten used to being surprised. But still… “And Arthur?”

  “Dead. Or sleeping. Don’t know. You’d have to ask Merl. Not that he’s talking.” Lily shrugged her shoulders. “He’s, you know, a bit annoyed about all that.”

  “How about Lancelot? Gawain? The Green Knight? The Holy Grail?”

  “Ques-ting,” Lily drawled and pointed to the papers again.

  I growled softly, but even repeated prodding had her repeating the same word again and again. Eventually, I gave up and went over the quests available. A good half of them seemed to involve killing, finding, or eradicating something. There were no “fetch” quests, probably because I received more than enough of those from El, who at least knew enough to give me exact directions. It wasn’t as if I knew where to find fairy dust or three-eyed spotted mushrooms. In the end, I highlighted a couple I was willing to do and handed them to Lily.

  “Right. Out then. Once I get details, you’ll know.”

  “That’s it?” I frowned, having expected, well, more details now.

  “Yes. Now shoo. We’re running the Virtuous Grotto, and I don’t need you bothering me,” Lily said, waving me away.

  Kicked out of my apartment, I grabbed my jacket on the way out. Ah well, maybe El had something interesting.

  ***

  After making my way to Nora’s, I found El seated at the counter, smiling cheerfully at an unexpected mundane customer. I watched El for a second, my gaze unfocused to see her as her glamour rather than her true form before refocusing my eyes. I had to admire the svelte figure she cut, at least underneath her glamour. Though I had to wonder, what did it look like if someone saw me checking her out and was unable to see through her glamor? On the other hand, one could never tell with others’ tastes.

  “Henry?” Her voice brought me out of my ruminations, and I realized her customer had left. “Did you need something?”

  “No.” I shook my head. Then, girding up my courage, I stepped up to the counter, flashing her a smile. “Actually—”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t even—”

  “Henry, I’m four hundred and thirty-six years old. I know what you were going to ask. And the answer is no,” El said and smiled at me gently.

  “Well, ummmm…” I paused, staring at El. I felt slightly deflated at having my advances shot down even before I’d gotten started. I looked around, awkward now, as I kicked myself for even trying. I should have known better. After all, El had never indicated any interest in me before beyond a general kindly interest in my well-being. Pretty much what you’d expect a big sister to show a little brother in fact.

  “It’s not personal, Henry. I might only be a lesser fae, but I am fae. I’ll live for thousands of years, and well, as a human mage…” El said, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s better this way.”

  “Oh…” I nodded slightly. I guess that made sense. I mean, the elves in the Lord of the Rings series were like that too. And I was no Aragorn.

  “So, is there anything else you came in for?”

  “Not really. I actually thought you might have something for me to do,” I answered, looking back up to see El smiling at me patiently.

  “Mmmm… not sure I need to remodel the shop yet.”

  I winced. “You heard about that.”

  “Just a little. Showing you around kind of tied you to me,” El said.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. The imp was tougher than I thought,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

  “It’s fine. Used to be you couldn’t swing a cat without hitting a magical troubleshooter. Now, everyone wants to be an office mage or animator or enchanter,” El said, shaking her head. “I guess it works out for you though—otherwise no one would hire you.”

  “Thanks?” I shook my head again. “Anyway, did you have anything you need me to help with?”

  “Actually,” El said, smiling slightly and reaching under the counter. In her hand when she lifted it was a simple, brown-paper-wrapped package.

  I took it automatically, jiggling it slightly and noting a clink of glass containers before I slid it into my black messenger bag.

  “Don’t do that! What if it was salamander spit?”

  “Ummm…”

  “It’s highly explosive.” El sighed.

  “So, is it?”

  “No. And you shouldn’t be asking what’s in the packages. You know that,” El said exasperatedly, shaking her head. “It’s arthritis rub for Grandma Gail.” A quick scribble and she handed me the address on a Post-it note.

  “I thought I wasn’t supposed to know what was in there,” I said.

  “You’re not normally, but you’re going to need to know for this. Now, be polite and nice. You’re going into orc territory.” El held a finger up. “Just tell them what and who you’re delivering for, and they’ll leave you alone. Got it?”

  “You sell to orcs?” I asked incredulously.

  “I sell arthritis medicine to everyone,” El said. “What, you think I should let Grandma Gail suffer because she’s green and tusky?”

  “No…” I said, stepping back at the heat in El’s voice.

  “Get it through your head, Henry. This isn’t your fantasy books. These are people with their own hopes and dreams and lives. We’re just people trying to get by in a world that isn’t necessarily set up for us.”

  “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll do better,” I said. At El’s nod, I backed out and headed off to do her little courier job. Head hunched, I pulled out my phone and punched in the address to work out the fastest way to do this. One day, I’d get a car, but that would have to wait till I had a more regular and consistent source of income, one that did not rely on charity and magical windfalls.

  ***

  Faircreek in the southwestern part of the city once hosted the city’s docks. In the 1960s, the city had rebuilt the docks farther downriver, outside of the city proper, to handle the additional business. Now, Faircreek was a mixture of rundown warehouses, squat concrete buildings, and crumbling docks along with a few over-burdened homeless shelters. Dotted throughout the neighborhood were failed attempts at revitaliza
tion, the scenic concrete-and-grass walkways along the river unkept and not cleaned, a pair of soaring condos looming over their older cousins. It was no place to go if you weren’t a resident, the natural resting place for those who had nowhere else to go.

  Not surprisingly, even though I’d lived in the city my whole life, I’d only been down this way twice—once entirely by accident, the second on an ill-advised attempt at a hip-hop concert to impress a date. As I sat on the worn-down upholstery of the bus, waiting for my stop, I stared at the residents with new eyes, El’s words still ringing in my mind.

  Hunched over, hooded figures slunk from corner to corner, hands in baggy clothing. Under hoods, I caught glimpses of inhuman features—snouts, whiskers, fur, and more. Many had the barest of glamours on, just enough to pass a cursory inspection. Interestingly enough, most glamours showed the individuals as minorities. Perhaps most surprisingly was their number, one in seven, one in eight of those on the streets were inhuman—a higher percentage by far than anywhere else.

  We’re just people trying to get by in a world that isn’t necessarily set up for us.

  How hard was life for a supernatural if your funds had to go to not only food but glamour as well? If you had to cover up, hide your identity to survive? If the assholes who were casting glamour spells decided it cost “extra” to make you not look like a minority? I’d stumbled across magic and lucked out finding the golden ring, taking power by choice. Many of those I saw on the streets, they’d never had a choice.

  They were somber thoughts to think as I got off the bus and glanced at my phone one last time. I walked the streets to my destination, idly noting I was a good six blocks away.