Mages in Manhattan: A Tokyo Supernatural Novel

by Phil Gabriel

  Turning to Terri, I asked, “What could her coven possibly offer to make this worthwhile?”

  Akiko grabbed her chest and pulled out an imaginary dagger.

  “Terri, did they promise you that they could remove the glass in your heart? And maybe restore your youth?”

  Terri maintained her poker face, but Kitty-Sue nodded behind her. Terri could lie to me, but not to a super sensitive kitsune.

  I felt the slightest twinge of a headache. I turned to the blond and saw her concentrating furiously. “Is that you, little witch? Is that your most powerful curse?” I smiled at her like a proud father whose toddler just made potty.

  “What’s your name, honey?” I asked, to be met with nasty looks from both the blond and Kitty-Sue. Oh, yeah, it’s no longer politically correct to refer to females that way. For Kitty-Sue, referring to any female endearingly was a problem.

  “Cocksucker! You should be writhing in pain,” she gasped, “with the worst migraine of your life.”

  “Never mind,” I continued, “I’ll call you Wendy. Now be a good little witch and let the adults talk.”

  A vein throbbed on her forehead, and she opened her mouth to screech, but I plugged it with a gag made of Air. Before she could jump up, Kitty-Sue was between us with a blade in her face. She said, “You know we are the reason your coven has so many new openings, right?”

  She backed down under Kitty-Sue’s predator gaze and sat. She gestured and pulled at the mystic gag, to no avail, stopping only when Kitty-Sue placed the tip of her blade at the edge of her mouth.

  “Now Terri,” I said, “you know you can’t trust witches. Did they give any proof that they could remove the dagger or rejuvenate you?”

  “I saw Beatrice and Carol! They look like teenagers! They said they could do the same for me.”

  Wow, they had managed to take credit for my rejuvenation. They were good liars, too. Terri had the fanatical look of a true believer. I couldn’t think of a way to convince her that the coven was lying.

  Kitty-Sue rescued me. Turning her head our way, she said, “Boss, I’ve got an idea. I’ll give Wendy a couple of slices to her cheeks, expand her smile to make her look like Kuchisake-onna. If she’s as good as Terri says, she can heal that right up.”

  “Kuchisake-onna?” I asked. “Isn’t that the woman with the ear-to-ear smile like the Joker?” Kitty-Sue nodded vigorously.

  Wendy’s eyes were terrified, but she couldn’t speak or move her head without slicing herself on Kitty-Sue’s blade.

  “So, Wendy,” I asked, “what do you say? Oops, sorry. Will you show us your healing ability?”

  Tears glistened in her eyes as she shook her head. Kitty-Sue’s blade followed the motion with inhuman surety.

  “She’s not as powerful as Carol,” muttered Terri, the seeds of doubt growing.

  “Oh, but she’s Carol’s favorite niece,” I said. “I’m sure Carol will fix her right up. If she can.”

  Turning back to Wendy, I said, “So, Wendy, let’s do this.” At her terrified look, I added, “Hey, I’ll block your nerves so it won’t even hurt. I’ll even cauterize the cuts. You won’t even get blood on your clothes. Then you get your powerful aunt Carol to fix you up. Terri’s convinced. You and the coven get the dragon blood tattoos you want. Everybody’s happy.”

  Stepping closer and looking down at her, I continued, “You’ll only have to wear the Joker’s smile until your coven can heal you.”

  Wendy slumped from the chair to her knees on the floor, face hidden behind her long blond hair. Kitty-Sue smoothly knelt down, knife never wavering from position. Wendy’s tears dripped onto her jean-clad thighs.

  “She doesn’t look convinced,” I said to Terri. “Maybe she’s not as sure of her coven’s power as you are. Now why could that be?”

  With a defeated look, Terri whispered, “So I’ll stay old? There’s no hope?”

  “Older, but wiser,” I said. Motioning for Kitty-Sue to let Wendy up, I continued, “Well, you could ask Wendy here to give up ten years of her life. I’ll rejuvenate you by, umm, five years.” Looking over at Wendy, I said, “That would be a fair price for the tattoo. Not specious lies.”

  With a look of dawning hope, Terri stared at Wendy, only to be met with a cold head-shake.

  “Sorry,” I said, “it’ll only work if she agrees. Those are the rules.

  “Well,” I said, rubbing my hands together, “I guess we’re done here. You keep in touch, Terri.” The privacy bubble dropped as we headed for the door.

  We were on the sidewalk, waiting for a taxi, when Wendy rushed out. She managed to tug on my sleeve before Kitty-Sue captured her hand in a painful aikido hold. Wendy was pointing at me, crying and waving her free arm. A crowd started to form. A burly bearded man said, “Hey, what are you doing to that girl?”

  I saw hope dawn in Wendy’s eyes as the crowd started to get closer. Then a kitsune bubble popped up around us. The group around us collectively looked around in confusion, shrugged their shoulders, and continued walking. Wendy’s look of hope was crushed.

  “Sorry, Wendy,” I said, “I don’t like street theater. What can I do for you?”

  She firmed her lips and pointed to her mouth and tried speaking. Of course, no sound emerged, due to the spell I had woven. The air in her mouth now acted like those sound deadening headphones. Any noise produced by her vocal cords was reversed by the spell, neutralizing the sound.

  At my smile, her glare turned murderous. “I like Wendy, the quiet little witch,” I said. “There are always consequences to attacking a magician. Once you learn enough magic, you can cancel the spell yourself.” Rubbing my chin in thought, I continued, “Maybe Beatrice or Carol can cancel it for you?”

  Wendy played her last card—her face crumpled and tears started flowing. She looked at me imploringly and mouthed a silent “Please?” I was almost moved to cancel the spell, but Kitty-Sue’s snort of derision stopped me.

  “Can’t you hocus-pocus her so that she can’t say anything bad?” asked Kitty-Sue.

  “Not really,” I said. “The spell is either on or off.”

  “Ahem,” said Akiko. “Scott-Sensei, if you would allow me to modify your spell? There’s something I want to try.”

  “Be my guest, Akiko-san.”

  Instead of gestures and words, Akiko started singing in a language I’d never heard before. Kitty-Sue’s ears flattened to block the sounds. The strange syllables sent shivers up my spine. When I tried to memorize the sound patterns, they slipped away like mercury. Where the hell had she learned that?

  I turned my attention from the singing I would never be able to duplicate and watched as the simple feedback spell in Wendy’s mouth changed to something enormously complex and beautiful.

  The song ended, and Akiko nodded to herself.

  “So, Wendy,” I said, “how do you feel?”

  “My name’s not Wendy, it’s Wendy!” she said.

  “So, I guessed right?”

  “No! My name’s not Wendy, it’s Wendy!” Watching carefully, I saw that her lips moved differently than the sounds, like one of those badly dubbed Chinese karate films.

  I looked at Akiko in admiration. “Excellent work, Akiko-san.”

  She dimpled in pleasure at my praise and said, “There’s more. She can speak, but she can no longer curse.”

  “You misogynist piece of chocolate!” shouted Wendy. “Give me back my fondant words.”

  “Quiet, Wendy,” I said, holding up a finger to silence her. She immediately shut her mouth. At least she was learning.

  Turning to Akiko, I bowed to almost ninety degrees. “Akiko-san,” I said, “that spell is a masterpiece. I bow before your skills.”

  Once again, Akiko dimpled and returned my bow.

  Unable to contain herself, Wendy said, “You meringue fondant, you son of a brioche! I’ll get even with you if it’s the last thing I do!”

  Ignoring Wendy, I said, “Akiko-san, when you said no cursing, did that include witches�
� curses?”

  With a nod, Akiko said, “Of course. Otherwise, the task would not be complete.” She looked at Wendy’s angry face and said, “But you can still pronounce health and good luck spells.” Akiko tapped her chin with a forefinger. “That is if you were ever taught any.”

  Wendy was mumbling to herself; all I could hear was chocolate, fondant, brioche, donut lover, and words of that nature. “Well, Wendy,” I said, “looks like we’re done here. Run along home and tell Beatrice and Carol I said ‘Hello.’”

  The privacy bubble dropped, and Wendy held my gaze for a moment before turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

  “OK, boss,” said Kitty-Sue. “What’s next?”

  “Don’t know about you, but I have a craving for a slice of chocolate cake. Let’s find a Starbucks.”

  After a Starbucks run that almost cleaned out the display case, we headed to the offices of Selene Select.

  We sauntered through the main doors into the lobby. A guard held his hand up to stop us. “Sorry, no visitors.”

  Giving him my best toothy smile, I said, “We’re not visitors. I’m your new boss.”

  I wondered if he would be any trouble, as he took a deep breath and put his hand on his truncheon. Then Kitty-Sue pointed to a row of photos on the wall. “Scott! They have your photo here.”

  Sure enough, there I was in all my glory, frosted hair and everything. When had those bastards had time to take a photo of me? And with a suit and tie? They must have Photoshopped that in. Below my photo was a brass plaque engraved with “Dr. Scott Freeman - Senior Partner.”

  The guard’s mouth was open in shock as he looked from the photo of the elegantly clad senior partner to my rather more disheveled real-life appearance.

  The guard closed his mouth, swallowed twice, then saved his job by saying, “Good morning, Dr. Freeman. Please come to the security kiosk so I can give you your access badge.”

  After a few minutes of security formalities, we were in the elevator to my new office.

  “Ms. Cappuccetto,” I said airily as we entered the office, “good morning.”

  She jerked at my voice, then clasped her hands together in front of her on the desk. She was maintaining tension to keep her terrorized trembling concealed. As ordered, she was wearing a French maid outfit: black short-sleeved blouse, black skirt, black stockings, with a tiny white apron and cap. Much cuter than the Riding Hood cloak. Brock must have been very convincing.

  “Good morning, sir,” she said with a trembling voice.

  Stepping past her desk, we entered Frost’s—no, my office. I sat in the so very expensive leather chair, inviting Kitty-Sue and Akiko to make themselves comfortable. Although the door was open, and I could have simply called out, I hit a button on the intercom to summon Ms. Cappuccetto.

  She appeared at the door instantly, standing with her hands clasped in front. “Yes?” she asked.

  At my raised eyebrow, she came to proper attention, hands at her sides, standing straight and tall. “Yes, sir. Dr. Freeman, what can I do to please you?”

  “I like that,” I said. “Use that every time you see me. I would like a pot of coffee; my guests would like...” I looked at Kitty-Sue and the invisible Akiko. “A pot of Earl Grey tea and a Coke.”

  “Right away, sir!” She scurried away.

  Looking at me through narrowed eyes, Kitty-Sue said, “Why is she here? No, why is she alive?” in that silky smooth, dangerous voice of hers.

  I tugged my ear to let her know we needed privacy. As the privacy bubble appeared, I said, “I made a Deal with her to let her stay in New York. In exchange for some help”—I didn’t want Kitty-Sue to know how narrowly I had avoided death at the hands of Frost— “I told her she must serve me here.”

  “You know you shouldn’t make Deals without us to advise you,” said Kitty-Sue. “You’re too nice.”

  “Too nice to strike a good Deal?” I asked, gesturing at the office. “For this office, in the most exclusive real estate on Earth, with millions of dollars of artwork on the walls, with a monitor showing my ten percent stake in a multibillion-dollar company steadily churning out profits?”

  Kitty-Sue leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, giving me a look that said she would have made a better Deal. I smiled and opened my mouth to respond.

  Akiko raised a finger to interrupt. “Scott-Sensei,” she said, “you made a good Deal here, this time. But it seems that whenever you deal with women, you don’t make the best Deals.”

  Grabbing that train of thought, Kitty-Sue leaned forward. “Yes, it’s when you make Deals with women that you end up getting screwed!”

  I had to laugh at her double entendre before responding, “Well, the Deal has been made. I can’t change it now.”

  “And the fancy outfit?” asked Kitty-Sue.

  “A condition of employment,” I said.

  “Why is she so scared?”

  “She helped the pack kidnap me. She doesn’t know if I’m going to kill her yet,” I said.

  At that moment, Ms. Cappuccetto came back bearing a large silver tray with a pot of coffee, a tea service, and a frosty cold Coke. She looked around the office for a moment, panicking when she couldn’t see us, only to start when Kitty-Sue dropped the bubble. Ms. Cappuccetto recovered quickly and set the tray on my desk and made to serve.

  I stopped her with one hand upraised. “Ms. Cappuccetto,” I said, pointing to the wall, “I see a bit of dust on the upper edge of the monitor. Clean it right away.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, rushing over to the monitor with a cloth. She had to reach far above her head to run the cloth across the monitor. I noted she kept one hand on her skirt to pull it down. I called a burst of Air up and gave her the Marilyn Monroe treatment. Her skirt blew up past her waist. She scrambled to pull her skirt back down, face turning red in embarrassment.

  “Ms. Cappuccetto,” I said in a low, dangerous voice, “are you wearing panties?”

  “N-n-no sir,” she said. “Pantyhose. They’re part of the costume.”

  “That will not do,” I said. I looked at her, then at the window, as if calculating a trajectory that would send her to her death.

  “I’ll remove them right away, sir,” she said, scurrying to the door.

  “And the skirt”—at my voice she halted, and I saw her shoulders tremble— “it’s much too long. Take at least four inches off!”

  She ducked behind the door, and I heard the sounds of her pulling off her high-heeled shoes, then the slither of pantyhose being removed. A few seconds of mumbling, then we heard the sound of a stapler chunking away as she hemmed the skirt. She came to the office door and stood at attention. “Is this proper, sir?”

  I examined her costume and her bare legs. The skirt was now a bare inch below the tiny white apron. Maybe I spent too much time on the thighs because the office stereo turned on and Kenny Loggins’ “Danger Zone” started playing. A glance at Kitty-Sue showed her examining one of her knives. Thanks, Euterpe.

  Pursing my lips in faint disapproval, I said, “It will do for now. But get those skirts hemmed properly and buy garter belts and stockings.”

  Gesturing at the tray, I said, “Now you may serve us.” Kitty-Sue’s blade disappeared.

  Kitty-Sue nodded at the Coke, and she was served first, followed by a cup of Earl Grey for the invisible Akiko.

  As she poured my coffee, the spout of the pot shook so badly in her hands that several drops of coffee hit the saucer. Setting the pot down and backing away quickly, Ms. Cappuccetto said, “Please don’t kill me! Or turn me into a toad! I’ll clean it right up.”

  With trembling hands, she mopped up the spill. She bit her lip, then asked, “Are you going to kill me?”

  Kitty-Sue’s nose scrunched up at the scent of fear that came off Ms. Cappuccetto.

  “Not today,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. At her sigh of relief, I continued, “However, it occurs to me that you may have learned a bit too much about magicians during our time t
ogether. Do you remember our time together?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, with just the slightest hint of a smile. The knife was suddenly back in Kitty-Sue’s hand, and Ms. Cappuccetto’s eyes widened in fear.

  I raised an eyebrow and growled, “Really? I like toads. Toads have very short memories.”

  “I mean no,” she stammered. “No sir! I don’t remember anything. I’ll never tell anyone anything. I mean, how could I tell anyone anything? I don’t remember anything. It’s all a blank.” Her trembling stopped when Kitty-Sue’s knife disappeared.

  “And you’ll never discuss what you see in this office, correct?”

  “No sir,” she said, shaking her head furiously.

  “Excellent,” I said. “You’re dismissed. Return to your desk.”

  As she returned to her office, Kitty-Sue created a new privacy bubble and took a sip of her Coke. “Scott,” she asked, “was there too much ‘pillow talk’ during your fiendishly clever plan to rescue us?”

  “Well,” I said, thinking quickly, “to make the plan work, I had to give her some details.”

  “And the costume?” asked Kitty-Sue. “The lack of panties?”

  “A whim of mine.”

  “If you don’t mind, boss,” said Kitty-Sue firmly, “I’ll take care of uniform inspection from now on. That’s a whim of mine.”

  “Deal,” I said, which set off a chain of thoughts.

  “Speaking of Deals,” I said to change the subject, “I think it’s time we wrapped up your bodyguard job.” I slid open the desk drawer that I had seen Frost use on our last visit. Sure enough, there were stacks of cash, probably close to a quarter million. I pulled out eight $5K stacks and put them on the desk in two piles.

  “Ten thousand dollars each,” I said. “Plus, a bonus of another ten thousand. Do you accept that our Deal is completed?”

  Akiko nodded in acceptance and grabbed her cash. She had understood immediately. I felt the bonds of the vow we had made dissipate.

  Kitty-Sue had a puzzled look and said, “I think I didn’t bargain nearly hard enough...”

  “One Deal at a time,” I said firmly, hoping she would understand.