Alex cursed again. Nothing was sacr—…nothing was damned to those people. They might as well have rummaged through his dirty laundry.
“You brought me here to discuss my ring? Or are we actually visiting some headquarters or other?”
“Not some headquarters. The headquarters!” Gribovsky corrected him with the air of a religious fanatic who’d just been told there wasn’t a god. Actually, there was a god. Many gods, in fact. Or one god with many faces, a topic of ongoing debate among magic theologians. “And as for your ring… No, I’m not that kind of guy.”
“How homophobic of you. Are we going somewhere, or can I finally head home?”
“We’re already here.” Tossing another candy into his mouth, Gribovsky held his military watch up to the scanner on the food dispenser.
At first, nothing happened. Then a small door opened, revealing a rather spacious elevator cabin instead of the machine’s innards.
Given that the vending machine was right next to a shipping container, it was a safe bet that the container was fake as well.
“After you, pumpkin.” Flashing him a silly grin, Gribovsky leaned his back against the door and waved his hand toward the cabin. He’d put his fool’s mask back on again and was apparently not planning on removing it for a while. “Move your ass. I’d rather get some sleep at home today and not get stuck at the office.”
Doom adjusted his glasses again before stepping onto the elevator.
It wasn’t any different from the kind of elevator you’d find in a present-day office building. Double doors on both sides. A long, vertical sensor panel in place of the more common buttons. A TV set and a gilded logo on the floor.
Stepping onto the logo with both feet, Doom leaned against the other door so he could see what Gribovsky entered into the panel. Unfortunately, the latter just waved his watch in front of it.
The door closed. The elevator seemed to reach escape velocity right away.
“Aren’t you afraid of earth dragons?” Alex asked. “Fucking men in black. You could’ve made your headquarters inside a dam, and no one would’ve ever suspected it was there.”
“We could have. But this place has the same protective spells they use for subway stations.”
“Oh, yes?”
“Yup.”
Alex smirked. He knew a lot about history, New Earth and Old Earth alike. They said each metro station in the human world had to be enchanted by a whole squad of wizards to conceal it from mortals, and there were still leaks.
Right then, the age of magic blossoming once more, the leaks were becoming more frequent. More members of the magic races, not to mention more magic creatures, were being born every ten years, and the topic of overpopulation was starting to regain steam.
Alex glanced down at the logo once again.
He shifted his gaze to Gribovsky, then back to the logo.
It was a golden shield covered in ivy, with three red flowers set above it. But that wasn’t the most remarkable feature. The shield bore the ancient symbol of wisdom and magic, one the ancient Egyptians had called Wadjet—the Eye of Horus. His left eye, to be precise, and the symbol of the moon.
Doom had seen it before.
On T-shirts, mugs, baseball caps, and lots of other merchandise. In comic books and movies. Everyone, bloody hell, every single person that had ever had the most passing interest in pop culture or conspiracy theories couldn’t help seeing it.
But Doom didn’t think it was there as a joke.
No.
It was impossible.
With a ding, the elevator stopped, and the door behind Doom slid open.
If it hadn’t been for Gribovsky catching his partner by the tie, he would’ve fallen backward, right into the headquarters of a mythical—but apparently real—organization with a very simple name.
The Guards.
Chapter 19
From a small dais that actually did resemble the one from Men in Black, Alex looked out over the expansive open-plan office filled with identical workstations and expensive iMacs. The chromed steel tables, with drawers on the left-hand side, were attached (Alex wondered why) to a floor so polished you could see the same symbol of the shield with the eye on the ceiling reflected in it.
There were dozens of people, all talking on their phones and running around with tablets or stacks of papers. The workday was in full swing.
It was 3 o’clock in the morning.
At the opposite end of the vast space was a wide monitor (Alex had already encountered one suit) showing a map of the world with points occasionally flashing on it. Most were green, but two were blue.
“Oh, two blue incidents.” Gribovsky tossed another Skittle into his mouth. “Someone’s doing unregistered magic above the Adept level.”
Doom nearly choked on nothing but air.
Above the Adept level?
That meant they were at least at the Master level, level 60+ wizards. Sure, Alex had heard of wizards like that. They often featured in fairytales and travel booklets about Myers City, with ten Masters residing in the capital at that time, at least if Alex’s memory served.
And now Gribovsky was telling him that there were two of those…monsters, one in the middle of Siberia, and another in the Amazonian jungle, both conducting their experiments right then.
“Shit. Ernie and his rapid response teams get all the fun.” Gribovsky stashed the Skittles in the inside pocket of his trench coat and started down the stairs.
Doom followed him silently and zombie-like. He still found it hard to believe he was working for the Guards and not some secret government agency.
Although, when he thought about it, legend had it that the Guards protected the first king of Atlantis, the capital destroyed in the distant past.
After Atlantis fell and the world started to lose its magic, the Guards became a global organization tasked with concealing the magic world from the eyes of mortals. Border security, basically. It was their job to make sure mortals never knew that particular terrorist acts, earthquakes, and other disasters had absolutely been caused by something other than what the media told them.
That explained Gribovsky’s dragon remark.
They were still law enforcement officers, at the end of the day. Just a somewhat different sort.
“So, you…”
“We were repurposed,” Gribovsky replied, shaking someone’s hand as they walked by and asking how their kids were. “Now we don’t just protect mortals from the magic world, as well as the other way around sometimes; we also safeguard the magic world from itself.”
“From itself?”
“Yep.”
That time, Gribovsky didn’t shake a hand, instead giving a young girl wearing a formal business suit a quick spank. She responded by slapping him and accusing him of never calling her back. Then, with a wave of her thick hair, she clacked away across the office on her high heels.
“I had to leave for a mission!” Gribovsky yelled after her. Then, more quietly, he added, “Though whatever, she isn’t that great in bed. Not nearly as good as Linda from the spirit settlement department. She’s just…mm.”
Leaving the vast open space behind, the partners reached another door with a sensor panel reading Level B in fluorescent letters.
Alex assumed that only people with special clearance were allowed inside. And Gribovsky was apparently one of them: he waved his watch in front of the panel and held open the door, ushering Doom into a long, branching corridor.
Daylight lamps flickered. The wall on his right had five elevator doors, and Gribovsky walked over to the farthest.
“Down there,” he said, pointing past the many doors in the corridor to the other side, “is the archive. You’ll get access to it if you behave. There are plenty of books in there about why magic started to disappear.”
“Because of the civil war in Atlantis? The war where the wizards nearly destroyed each other and the whole planet?”
“There’s a reason behind every war, pumpkin.”
“Yeah. Power, money, and women.”
“That may be true for mortal wars.” Gribovsky stepped onto the elevator first. It was much simpler than the central one, though it still conveyed a sense of the considerable technical prowess and financial resources the Guards had at their disposal. And Doom was genuinely surprised when the elevator started to move not vertically, but horizontally. “But magic wars are fought for different reasons. You should read more about them yourself when you have time—our accounts are far more detailed than the ones at the Museum of Natural History.”
Alex said nothing. Gribovsky turned toward him slowly, opening his mouth slightly in surprise.
“Have you never been to the Museum of Natural History?”
“Nope.”
“Get out! Are you kidding me? Everyone goes on a tour there every year, from their first year in elementary school all the way to their last year of university! Oh, right. You’re an ignoramus.”
Doom once again chose to hold his tongue. The very fact that he’d been called an ignoramus by a man who’d apparently only heard Shakespeare’s name for the third time in his life just that day was already hilarious enough.
The person Alex had been four years before would’ve certainly tried to force-feed Gribovsky his own teeth, but his time in prison had taught him two things: keep a cool head and disregard the whims of the impetuous organ below his waist.
“Here we are.” The elevator stopped, and the doors opened, dumping Doom into another corridor. Unlike the last one, it was dimly lit and as big as a hangar.
The first thing that caught Alex’s eye wasn’t even its size. No, it was the walls, which were made from enchanted, magic-proof glass instead of stone.
Stepping out of the elevator, Doom peered through the glass and froze.
“Welcome to Department 6, which is all about—”
“Demons!”
“Yes. Demons.”
Alex could see many of the vile creatures, most of which he’d only encountered previously in the Old Man’s (may his thighs rot after being shoved up his own ass) grimoires.
They weren’t all demons from the bottom legions, almost indistinguishable from Earth’s animals. Of course, that “almost” meant that the panther had horns, while its tail and upper body were half-covered in bony plates. The gorilla was clad in frightening armor and had a spark of intelligence in its yellow eyes. The crocodile had eight legs and a pair of creepy leather wings.
In addition to those low-ranking soldiers, there were two senior demons as well. They were fairly humanoid, only so disgusting that Alex couldn’t look at them without shuddering despite all the shit he’d seen in his life.
“You’re fucking kiddi—”
“Not at all, pumpkin.” Gribovsky held up his hands to placate his partner. “I got transferred here a month ago, right after I gave up smoking, actually. And I still don’t know much about all that demonic stuff. Your lecture came in really handy—you should give your students the same one tomorrow!”
The redhead gave him a thumbs-up and, flashing a Hollywood smile, winked.
“Come on, Alex. Chon Sook, the old scrooge, is tired of waiting for us.”
“The Asian?”
“The Asian?” Gribovsky asked, thought it over for a moment, and nodded. “Good nickname. I like it. I’ll call him that until he gets me a new car from the warehouse. You’ve seen the monstrosity I drive now—what a piece of crap! The only thing it’s good for is doing the weekly grocery shopping at the mall.”
Alex clapped his forehead.
He was starting to understand why Gribovsky had been transferred from…whatever department he’d been part of before. And it was probably the same reason why Doom was no longer terrified by the prospect of being devoured by one of the demons on the other side of the glass.
Chapter 20
Alex stood facing a wide picture window that covered the whole wall from floor to ceiling. He struggled to fathom what kind of magic was letting him see Myers City at night so easily as it shimmered in a light drizzle.
They were deep underground, but there it was—a magic window. With a view of the city. And it wasn’t digital at all; it was pure magic.
Just an everyday, totally normal window.
A couple miles below ground.
Showing a bird’s-eye view of the city.
“Please sit down, Mr. Dumsky.” Major Chon Sook, the very same Asian man who’d picked him up outside the prison, pointed at the chairs set up around a T-shaped table.
The major’s office looked rather…impressive. The bookcases didn’t just feature a variety of manuscripts and grimoires; there were also statuettes from different nations and ages. Hanging on the walls, there were masks from African, South American, Australian, and Oceanic tribes. A few weapons used by those same tribes kept them company.
The solid oak table occupied most of the space in the office, which wasn’t particularly large. The major’s armchair looked especially comfortable, as did the chairs there for visitors.
A smaller copy of the monitor back in the office above them hung behind Chon Sook, while the indispensable steel vault with magical protection was to his right.
His table only had a display, a keyboard, a mouse, and a couple paper files on it.
The major was dressed that time in a very expensive three-piece suit that was a sort of…a salad-green color. But however gaudy it might have been, the color somehow suited him.
“So.” The major steepled his fingers and stared at Gribovsky with sharp, piercing eyes, forcing him to abandon his clownish persona immediately. “What do you think?”
“Just like the police said,” the red-haired man replied in a cold, emotionless voice. He even straightened up and somehow looked a bit older. “A double homicide intended to hide the traces of magic from the Demonology School. A summoning spell.”
“What level summoning?”
“According to Alexander Dumsky, my consultant, the spell summoned a soldier demon of a bottom legion. I beg your pardon, Major, for not yet memorizing all of Department 6’s classification.”
“You’ll take the test tomorrow. And you’ll get 10% docked from your salary if you get even one question wrong.”
“Sir. Yes, Sir.”
Alex wasn’t surprised that Gribovsky made no attempt to argue with the Asian. Despite his rather diminutive height, his lean stature, and the fact that Alex’s fingertips weren’t tingling (which meant that Chon Sook wasn’t a particularly powerful wizard), the major emanated force.
It was a sort of unyielding force from deep within.
Then the major turned to Doom, bringing that force down on him like an avalanche. Alex immediately realized that Chon Sook didn’t actually need Duncan to make Alex toe any line he wanted him to.
“What do you think, Mr. Dumsky?”
Alex looked at Gribovsky, then back at Chon Sook.
“The summoning was done three days ago,” he replied. “It was a success. The bodies were hidden by a shroud of magic to keep them from being discovered earlier, and the man who did it—”
“Human? Are you sure?” the major interrupted, lifting a hand.
“Yes,” Alex nodded. “The magic he used is exclusive to human demonology.”
“That’s good,” Chon Sook replied with a nod of relief. The most suspicious thing was that he actually looked very happy to hear it, almost as though he’d been relieved of a heavy burden. “What can you tell me about the summoner?”
“He’s experienced,” Doom replied instantly. “Very experienced. Not someone who’s just read a thing or two. Not self-taught, either. Well-trained. Really well-trained. His teacher might have even been as good as—”
Alex stopped.
“As good as yours,” the major finished. “But that’s hardly possible.”
“I think so, too. Or rather, I thought so. Until tonight.”
“Your teacher is dead, Mr. Dumsky. As are all his students, you being the sole exception.”
All around Doom, shadows rose up. They crept over the oaken table like greedy, hungry jackals, leaving rot and decay in their wake. It was as if the table was aging thousands of years with each passing second, gradually vanishing into the dust of ages past.
The air grew heavy and acrid.
The light was dying away.
Suddenly, the sound of a gun cocking brought Alex back to his senses.
The glittering muzzle of the enchanted pistol did more to pull him back than any bucket of ice water would have.
Doom reigned in his powers.
The shadows vanished, the light brightened once again, and the air was fresh and even pleasant.
Slowly, Gribovsky holstered his gun.
“Have you heard of anyone else practicing demonology?” the major asked as if nothing had happened.
“No,” Alex snapped. “After that incident…which, I see, you are well aware of…all my fri—… I became the only demonologist in the city. All the rest are either frauds who’ve read too much pulp shit or talentless beginners who wouldn’t survive their first summoning rite. Given the number of demons you’ve caged, there must be a lot of them.”
“Knowledge is spreading faster than we’d like it to.” Chon Sook stood up, walked over to the window, and clasped his hands behind his back. He was just a small man against the backdrop of the endless city, but he still conveyed a sense of indomitable willpower and force of character. “Anything else?”
Doom sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose.
He would’ve preferred to keep some aces up his sleeve, only…he didn’t want to share the fate of the creatures who had watched him with hungry eyes as he walked over to the major.
He’d been caged once. And he was prepared to do quite a bit to make sure that didn’t happen again.
“He’s an Adept.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“How?”
“Because he knew I’d be using the Black Fire of Truth. And not only did he know that, he made sure to conceal himself from the spell. And he set a trap. If I hadn’t spotted it, what remained of Gribovsky and me would’ve been brought here inside a vacuum cleaner.”
Dark Wizard's Case Page 11
