Death Calls

by Al K. Line

  We waited for about two seconds and then I gave the door a solid boot just below the lock. It smashed open, the expected crunch of the door whacking against the wall replaced with a soft thud followed by a squeal and plenty of moaning. We stepped inside to find the guy who I'd punched in the nose and whose arm I'd broken, lying on the floor with blood streaming again and him trying to hold both his homemade splint and his nose at the same time with one hand.

  "It just isn't your day, is it buddy? Where're your mates?"

  "Fum wu," he mumbled.

  "Is he trying to swear, Vicky? Do you think he is? That isn't nice."

  "No, very impolite." Vicky booted him in the ribs then grinned at me like she'd done good.

  "Vicky," I chastised, "there's no need for violence. The poor guy has been through enough today."

  "Oh, sorry." Vicky's face fell and she hung her head.

  "Haha, just joking." I bent and looked him straight in the eye. "Where are your buddies?"

  His eyes darted to the kitchen. How could they stand it in there?

  We marched down the hall like two mismatched cowboys. Vicky held her nose and tried not to let her feet touch the carpet, which didn't work out so well because they were on the ends of her legs and that's how you do walking. Still, didn't stop her from trying.

  The boss and the other numpty were in the kitchen as expected, punching the crap out of some poor guy who looked even worse than Jake had. His face was a bloody mess and his eyes were vacant. They carried on punching him, shouting at him, asking questions even though it was obvious the guy wasn't hearing, was too far gone with drugs and violence to understand anything.

  As the boss pulled his arm back to punch again, I caught his fist and slammed it down hard onto the grubby table, breaking most of the bones in his knuckles. He whirled, anger flaring, neck flushing and the heat rising until it made his head look like a beetroot.

  The other guy was fast, and lunged straight for me with his knife, but I was one step ahead so dodged aside and let his momentum carry him forward. I grabbed his arm and with a twist brought his knife down right through the back of the boss' hand so deep the blade cut through the table and out the other side.

  For good measure, I took advantage of the pandemonium and rammed the man's head down hard right next to the knife. As he rebounded and careened into the grease-soaked cooker, he already had a lump the size of an expensive baggie turning purple on his forehead.

  "Sorry, I forgot something last time. Vicky, get that guy out of here."

  Vicky wasted no time releasing the man and helping him as he staggered out of the room. I heard an "Oomf" from the hallway and assumed she'd got another kick into the numnuts on the floor. Seconds later she returned. "Check the rest of the house. If there's anyone inside get them out."

  "Roger that." Vicky saluted and went to do as I asked. It was weird, she was doing as she was told, seemed all efficient and utterly unlike her usual self. I shook my head to clear the confusion of having an obedient sidekick and gave both men a smack before they came to their senses.

  The whole thing took less than thirty seconds from entry to having them tied up with tape to rickety chairs. The boss still had the knife through his hand, which I felt best to leave there.

  "I have a question."

  "Screw you," said the boss through gritted teeth. Blood spread on the table around his hand but he glared at me, promising violence and revenge.

  "Where would I find Jake?"

  "How the hell should I know?"

  "You know him, you know where he hangs out. Where does he live?"

  "Some crappy place a few streets away. Top floor of the old doctor's surgery. That huge house on the corner with the fancy pillars by the door."

  "That's more like it. Thanks. See, wasn't so hard, was it?"

  "You're a dead man for this," warned the boss.

  "Ooh, so scary. Tell you what, why don't I pull that knife from your hand and we can go at it right here, right now? How does that sound?"

  The boss glanced down at the floor, said nothing.

  "Didn't think so. You guys are all the same. You only want to fight if it's someone you can bully. I don't like bullies."

  Vicky came back into the room with a hell of a scowl. She stormed up to the boss and slapped him hard across the cheek. Then she grabbed the hilt of the knife and pushed down on it with all her weight, which wasn't much but she still managed to push it in deeper.

  He howled with pain and I saw the look in her eyes, knew she wasn't finished. I took hold of her and spun her to face me.

  "What is it?"

  "There were two women upstairs, in a room. They were totally out of it, and, um, I think they were being used for... I let them out. They went but they were so stoned I'm not sure they knew what was happening."

  I turned back to the boss. He shrugged. "People will do anything to get their fix." He chuckled and so did the other guy.

  Without a word, I went over to the ancient cooker and turned on all the knobs for the gas. I did not light them.

  "Come on, let's go," I said to Vicky.

  "Hey, what the fuck? Where you going? What you doing? You can't leave us like this. It's dangerous, with the gas. What if it catches?"

  "Then the fucking house blows up, you dipshit."

  Vicky and I walked down the hall, stepped over the idiot still on the floor, and once outside I asked, "You sure there's nobody else inside?"

  "Sure. I checked. Should we do this? It's murder. They're scum, but this?"

  "Don't worry, Wand put a little hocus pocus on it. The knobs are off, it just looks, sounds, and smells like the gas is on. Give them something to freak out about for a while. I guess their customers will be around soon enough, and they'll help themselves to whatever product is stashed in the house and probably have a little fun beating the shit out of them while they're tied to chairs."

  "Arthur, sometimes you are a very cunning man."

  "I know. Handsome too."

  I felt better about this already.

  Dangerous Streets

  Halfway down the street, a familiar tingle started at the nape of my neck and worked its way up then down. I was instantly more alert, and I checked out more closely the men and women I'd spied then dismissed as merely the usual characters you found in the area.

  All were either high or itching to get so. Some looked desperate, others were trying their best to hold on to their dignity even though they knew being in such a place was only one short step away from the gutter.

  Others couldn't give a shit and were already in the gutter, puking up their hard-earned high, sick on bad product yet empty of stomach and purging nothing but dark bile and stomach lining. The too-far-gone, soon no longer of this world. But they would be, wouldn't they? Even death would offer no release from the hell they were in as they'd remain, trapped in a coma. Would somebody take them to a hospital? Would they be looked after or would they suffer even more, and worse, ignominy when they lay helpless, maybe right where they died, their bodies slowly fading to nothing but skin and bone, not that they had far to go?

  The wizard tingle hit with a vengeance and I grabbed Vicky and yanked her down behind a car propped up on bricks, the wheels and most of the interior long gone.

  Vicky yelped as she banged her elbow on the ground but a sore arm was preferable to being blasted by the nasties that shot overhead and demolished an impressive amount of the brickwork on the two-up two-down.

  Another blast of something dark and malevolent spat through the missing windows of the car and whipped around to face us. A terrible vision of a depraved beast from the Nolands. I knew it wasn't real, not in as many words, that the image was a conjuring, but that didn't stop the blast itself and the evil it contained from being life-threatening.

  "Still happy you came?" I shouted above the roar of the wind that pummeled us and tore at our clothes with angry, talon-tipped hands.

  "You betcha," she shouted. "Wouldn't miss it for anything." Vicky gra
bbed hold of her ponytail to stop it leaving welts across her cheeks and I boosted the power in Grace so she wouldn't fall off my head.

  Thinking now would be a good time to let Wand loose, I moved to draw him from my side but he shot up and snuggled into my hand.

  "Damn, forgot you burst through the Velcro earlier. And good move, dude, I think we're getting the hang of this."

  "Yeah, about time too."

  Wand vibrated with the pure joy of anticipation only those blessed with the ability to harness the wild powers of the universe can know, and I felt the happiness spread. Only under such duress, or maybe because of it, can you truly appreciate this power, this dominance you can wield over others. It is wondrous yet terrifying at the same time. A huge responsibility and a surefire way to turn you into a megalomaniac.

  Focused, my will traveled down my arm and two became one, him an extension of me, me an extension of him. My senses became attuned to my surroundings, I was hyper alert, and had a deep understanding of the magic that raged around us. I was no longer Arthur, I was The Hat, full of magic, slightly annoyed, and raring to go.

  Nothing would stop me getting the book back and returning it, and nothing could stop me marrying Penelope and living happily ever after. At least not some twisted freak who thought messing about with black magic was cool.

  As my awareness grew to encompass the whole street, I released Wand and he shot up like an arrow. Our connection strengthened as we focused and his sight became mine, and it was a very hard thing to take in. Being able to see in all directions at once takes some getting used to, and we hadn't practiced enough for it to all make sense. There's only so much the brain of an old frazzled wizard can accommodate, and I was struggling with information overload.

  I saw and understood enough though, and as he spiraled back down and careened off the side of the car before returning to my hand where I only just caught him, I readied for action.

  Sigils flared, countless spells condensed into secret whispers swirled mysteriously inside the faery wood, and Vicky moaned about her elbow.

  Quick as a flash, and with a crick in my knee I knew I'd pay for later, I shot erect and let Wand guide my arm as we turned to face not the man attacking from across the street, but the other guy who was yet to do a thing but I somehow knew was waiting to catch me unawares. I let loose with a mighty fury of potent magic laser-focused on its target.

  The magic hit the chimney stack on the second-to-last house of the row and the tall pile of ancient bricks were dislodged immediately. A shower of brick and dust rained down from above, the angle perfect. I turned away before I even saw the damage it caused to the dark arts practitioner, but knew the sneaky sod would have a serious headache if he managed to escape with his life.

  Distracted by the unexpected turn of events, the other guy glanced at the commotion just as I turned my attention to him. Without pause, Wand unleashed another just as perfect line of fire and angry red energy cut through the attacking mist that was already weakening, the adept's magic half spent. Spells like that take immense energy but they aren't very effective unless they accomplish the mission immediately, more for a show of power than to cause true damage.

  My magic, on the other hand, was only a little flashy. Most of the energy was for a purpose, and that purpose was to melt the bugger's staff.

  Red power streamed forth and took on form. A dragon's head snapped down on the tip of the staff the barefoot fool was wielding like he was the star attraction, standing there with his black cloak flapping dramatically, his bald head shining as it reflected magic.

  I'd show him. I did the drama around these here parts, not some interloper. The dragon morphed into a serpent with a forked tail, and he gasped, suitably impressed by my impulsive show of flamboyance, and it wrapped around the wood, coiled tight, and squeezed.

  He panicked, tried to shake it off, but it was already too late.

  The staff changed from deepest black with white sigils burning bright to an angry blood red as the wood heated to a temperature it shouldn't have been able to withstand. I increased the magic, pointed Wand right at the tail of the serpent and the red darkened to a lustrous burgundy. He howled in pain and rage as the entire length burst into flame. He dropped it just as it caught, and stood watching aghast as his prize possession steamed and hissed. Wisps of defunct spells drifted up lazily from the dying wood.

  A scream erupted from the staff, the death of so many spells, of so many man-hours of work I almost felt sorry for him. It was a thing of beauty, no doubt, but when you use magic in pursuit of darkness you get what you deserve.

  As the guy rubbed at his head and his panicked eyes darted to us and we locked looks, I nodded once then grinned, some would say rather evilly, and shouted, "Look out," but he either didn't hear or didn't understand.

  With a glance down at his disintegrating staff, I think he understood right at the last moment. But it was too late, and he was too stupid to realize quite how volatile his staff could become, that a lot of magic was changing, becoming something else. It had to be something, and now it was refused the home it had inhabited for many years, it was transmogrifying with a bang. A literal bang.

  The ashen remains vibrated madly, the dregs turned into a thousand demonic scowls of trapped minor demons from the Nolands, or stolen parts of their essence anyway, and then the whole thing went supernova.

  A localized explosion encompassing little more than several square feet made mincemeat of the crappy council paving and the crappy practitioner standing there. I saw his bones as his body was burned to a crisp in a flash like an atom bomb and then the heat was too intense and he became nothing. Atomized.

  Tiny particles of dust fell into a deep raggedy hole where once had been a man, and the mad thing was, I don't even think half the other people in the street noticed. Sure, some looked, and gaped, but everyone was so far gone they didn't really care and didn't understand. Several ran off, most walked away, a few came to stare at the hole, but nobody knew that magic had come back to these streets for the first time since The Hat left many years ago and had promised himself he would never return. Well, he was back, he had to be, but he wasn't like he had been then, wasn't sinking deeper by the day.

  I was on the up and up, and now I had two less things to worry about.

  Back on Track

  Vicky peeked over the car and asked, "Where'd he go?"

  "He's history. Fool forgot about the power in his staff and he should have known not to mess with me."

  "Us. You mean us."

  "Yes, us. You did a great job. Watch out evil practitioners of the dark arts, Vicky will hide from you and might jump out and say boo."

  "Hey, I could have helped."

  "How?" I asked, genuinely interested.

  "I could have distracted him or something."

  "What, by showing him how you do your ponytail?"

  "Shut up." Vicky glanced down the street at the pile of rubble littering the road. "Is he gonna give us trouble?"

  "Doubt it. Let's go see."

  We wandered down the street, and for once I wasn't concerned about anyone seeing the magic I used. Even at the best of times, people put it down to an inexplicable event like a gas main blowing or some such, but the people here were in no fit state to be a concern. Some stared cautiously, fearful, but most were already gone, in search of salvation they'd never find.

  We stood well back from the pile of bricks, and my first reaction was surprise at how many there were in a chimney stack. Bloody loads. The mini mountain stirred and broken bricks tumbled down like an avalanche in miniature. A hand pushed though the top, bloodied and mangled, followed by an arm looking much the same.

  "Should we blast him?"

  "We?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  "I could kick him. Is he dangerous?"

  "Probably. Or he was. Let's see shall we?"

  Over the next minute, the guy managed to free both arms then his head came clear after he fumbled about blind. He saw us and his
eyes widened in surprise and fear.

  "He doesn't look very dangerous," commented Vicky.

  "He doesn't, does he? Looks like a pomegranate with his bald head so red with blood. And wow, look at all those lumps."

  "Yeah, should I kick him now?"

  "No, wait," came the panicked voice.

  "Why should we? Why shouldn't I let Vicky kick you then I'll blast you for real? Like the other guy." We all looked where the hole was and the man's eyes widened further. "No, I promise, no more trouble. Haha, I just wanted the book, felt it was here. You can't blame me for trying."

  "Guess not," I said with a shrug. "Tell you what. You promise not to come after it, or us, and we'll call it quits."

  "Sure, sure, no problem. Thanks, Mr. Hat."

  "You are very welcome." I turned to Vicky, bent my arm for her to put hers through the crook, and asked, "Shall we?"

  "Let's." We wandered off, leaving him to it.

  Around the corner, Vicky said, "He didn't seem very scary. I thought all the guys involved in the black arts would be freaks, all scary looking and able to call demons and do all kinds of cool stuff."

  "Lots can, he could too. I could sense his power. But some are violent, many aren't. Just because they have an interest in the darker side of magic, doesn't mean they're good fighters or anything. Lots, like I assume this guy is, are merely collectors. They hunt out artifacts, make collections, and aren't into the rough stuff."

  "Just seems odd is all."

  "It's an odd world."

  We headed for Jake's. I wondered what awaited us. Nothing good.

  How the Other Half Live

  Like so many other services, the doctor's surgery had closed years ago, never to be replaced. There had been promises of a large community complex in the area, with a surgery, a dentist, a drop-in place, temporary shelter, food on offer, and help for those unable to fight through the mire of red tape you had to complete for unemployment benefits or to find a home for you and your poor kids. It never happened.

  The doctor's was miles away, there weren't any dentists who would take on NHS patients, certainly not with the levels of decay rife in this area, and everyone became too sick to travel so they got worse and strains of flu and even the common cold became localized, potent, and virulent. Guess they saw it as containing the problem. I saw it as a travesty.