Modern Sorcery: A Jonathan Shade Novel

by Gary Jonas

“You can turn down visitors,” I said.

  “Really? If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have seen you.”

  I nodded and hung up the phone. I had nothing more to say to him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Before I talked to Naomi again, I knew I needed to make one more stop. Yes, it was clear that David was guilty. There had been no evidence of magic on the security recording, and David himself obviously knew he was guilty or he wouldn’t be sitting there in jail. That said, I felt I needed to talk to one more person before I faced Naomi to tell her that her father was a raving, psychotic murderer. Somehow that didn’t sound like something that would help me win her heart, especially since she had just lost her mother. My stomach twisted in knots. So I cruised out to the DGI offices where Al Davidson worked.

  DGI stands for Dragon Gate Industries, and it’s supposedly an engineering firm down in the Tech Center, but in reality, it’s home to a bunch of wizards who ply their trade under cover of a normal business.

  A short, Hispanic man named Phil is the guard at DGI. So far as I’ve been able to tell, he doesn’t have any magical abilities, but he’s loyal to a fault. There are real offices in the building where real engineers work for real contractors, but that’s just part of the cover.

  “Hey, Phil,” I said as I entered the building.

  “Mr. Shade,” he said with a nod. I remembered when he used to call me Jonathan, but that was back when I was welcome here. “I didn’t see your name on the guest list.”

  “Check the update, m’man. I have an appointment to see Al Davidson.”

  This was true. I’d called Al on my drive from downtown to the Tech Center. While Al didn’t want to see me, he agreed to give me five minutes out of respect for the Miller family.

  “I’ll have to verify that,” Phil said.

  “By all means.”

  Phil picked up the phone, verified my story, and told me to take the elevator to the thirteenth floor.

  Most buildings don’t have a thirteenth floor. They go from twelve to fourteen. People are so superstitious. In any case, the elevator didn’t show a button for floor thirteen, but I’d been here many times, so I knew the routine. I pressed twelve and fourteen simultaneously. Both buttons lit up. The elevator rose and the doors opened on twelve then closed. They opened again on fourteen then closed. I hit twelve and fourteen simultaneously again, the elevator dropped one level, and the doors slid open on thirteen. The wizards didn’t want to be disturbed and had built in this little trick to prevent anyone from accidentally discovering them.

  DGI didn’t bother with receptionists because if someone found the floor, he probably belonged there. So when I stepped off the elevator, I simply moved down the hall to Al’s office. I’d heard that there was extra security of the magical variety, but I’d never seen anything to prove or disprove that.

  Al’s office was decorated with Star Wars movie posters and action figures. Han Solo stood next to Chewbacca on one shelf, and Princess Leia clad in a gold bikini leaned against a jellylike Jabba the Hut. The figures weren’t in their original packages, so I wondered if Al played with them when no one was looking. Al’s appearance—old, bald, and dressed in a business suit and reading glasses—didn’t fit the image you’d expect from the decor.

  “Pizza delivery for Al Davidson,” I said as I stepped into the office.

  Al had his nose in a book and didn’t look up. He raised a finger and pointed to a chair.

  Wizards. No sense of humor. I sat down to wait.

  A few moments later, he closed the book. It was a heavy, leather tome probably filled with a variety of ancient spells. Then again, for all I knew, it could have been Lady Chatterly’s Lover. He removed his glasses and stared at me. “Jonathan Shade,” he said then glanced at his watch. “You have five minutes.”

  “This won’t take that long. It’s about Kathy.”

  “So you said on the phone. A tragedy, of course.”

  “I know you two were close.”

  “We were well acquainted.” He steepled his hands on the desk. “I’m afraid I don’t understand why you’re here, Mr. Shade.”

  “Why so formal?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Never mind. I was hired to look into the murder.”

  “Whatever for? David Miller is guilty, and he is imprisoned.”

  “Let’s just say there are those who believe he’s innocent.”

  Al nodded. “His daughter, of course. This must be horrible for her. Have you seen the security video?”

  “I saw it.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “I’m trying to understand why he did it.”

  “You’d have to ask him.”

  “I already did.”

  “So why are you talking to me?”

  “Because you were there,” I said, though he had a valid question. I didn’t really need to talk to him. I just wasn’t ready to go see Naomi. I wanted to help her and find some way to get into her good graces while I was at it, but there wasn’t anything I could do on that front. Time could heal her grief, but it wouldn’t change the facts.

  “Are you planning to bother every shopper who was there?”

  “You were close. When I watched the recording, I noticed that David said something to Kathy before he killed her. Did you hear what he said?”

  “I’m afraid not. But if you saw the recording, you’ve probably also read the police report, so you would already know that. So I ask you again, why are you talking to me about this?”

  “Well, you wizard types are kinda private. It wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t tell the police everything.”

  He grinned. “I see. But if you think I’d withhold information from the police, why do you think I would share it with you?”

  “Because of my winning personality.”

  He gave me a look that a foul-tempered teacher might throw at the class clown.

  “Seriously,” I said. “Something you might tell me but not the cops is this: Was there anything magical about the murder that wouldn’t show up on the recording?”

  “You’re wasting my time, Mr. Shade.”

  I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time. “By my estimate, I still have two minutes of your time to waste.”

  He sighed. “We’re done here.”

  He started to open the book again, but I stood and placed my hand on the tome, pushing it back to the desk. “Did you notice anything strange about David Miller?”

  “Aside from the fact that he drew a sword and chopped his wife apart in the middle of a crowded grocery store?”

  “Could he have been . . . I don’t know . . . possessed?”

  Al rolled his eyes. “Do you have any idea how much power it would take to control a wizard of David Miller’s stature against his will?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “You’re wasting your time as well as mine, Mr. Shade.”

  “Look, David’s an asshole. No question. But he did love his wife, so this goes against everything about his character. He claims not to remember anything, so I’m just asking if it’s possible that someone else—a stronger wizard perhaps—forced him to kill her. It might not be plausible, but is it possible?”

  “No, it’s not. As you’re a mundane, I’ll explain this simply. Magic, Mr. Shade, is dying. There is simply no way that any wizard, no matter how experienced, could possibly harness enough magic to control another wizard. A mundane, perhaps, but definitely not a wizard. I don’t know why David Miller killed his wife, but I do know that it was not a case of possession or a doppelganger or any other silly notion you may have concocted. He did it and he’ll have to face the consequences of his actions. Are we clear here?”

  “You bet.”

  “Can I be rid of you now?”

  “Just one more question,” I said in my best Columbo.

  Al just glared at me.

  “Why was Mrs. Miller shopping over by D.U. instead of out in Castle Pines?”

  He sighed. “I
was the one shopping, Mr. Shade. Kathleen was with me because she wanted to discuss a private matter. That, of course, is none of your business. Now get the hell out of my office, or I’ll forcibly remove you.”

  While I’d love to see him try that, I figured enough was enough. I didn’t really come here to badger him. He hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know. I knew magic was dying. That was something David and Kathy always complained about. They wished they’d lived hundreds of years ago, when magic was stronger. I pointed out that indoor plumbing was a nice trade-off for the lack of magic, but they were not amused. Wizards are a tough crowd.

  As I left the building, my cell phone rang. The caller ID read O’Malley.

  “Shade’s Morgue,” I answered. “You kill ’em, we chill ’em.”

  “You need to get new material,” O’Malley said.

  I climbed into my Firebird. “This from a man who tells the same lame cop jokes at every party?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Look, I just thought you’d want to know that David Miller killed himself twenty minutes ago.”

  “I thought he was on suicide watch.”

  “Maybe they watched him commit suicide. Someone really wants to off himself, there’s not much anyone can do to stop him. Just thought you’d want to know.”

  “Does Naomi know yet?”

  “Yeah. They made the call to her fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Shit. Thanks, O’Malley.”

  I ended the call and just sat there. It made sense, of course. David was so guilt ridden over the murder that he killed himself. It happens all the time. Be that as it may, I felt terrible about it. What if it was something I said that made him do it? I know I couldn’t be held responsible for his death, but knowing and feeling are two separate things.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As I approached the door to Naomi’s house around five o’clock, I felt lost. What do you say when someone’s folks pull the old murder/suicide? “Sorry” just didn’t seem to cut it. So when she opened the door, I didn’t say anything; I simply embraced her. She held me tightly, and for a few seconds, there was nobody in the world but us.

  “Come in,” she said when she let go. She wiped tears from her cheeks. From the smeared mascara and swollen eyes, I could tell she’d been crying a lot. It hurt to see her like that.

  Her house was tastefully decorated with an Oriental flare. We sat on the sofa in her living room beneath two paintings of Chinese symbols. I don’t read Chinese, but I knew they meant peace and tranquility because I’d given them to her when we were a couple. I remember that when she hung them up, she told me that if someone came in and told her they actually read Stupid American that she’d have to get even with me.

  “So I’m guessing you heard about my father,” she said.

  I nodded.

  She looked away and I took her hand in mine. “Did you learn anything today?”

  “Nothing good. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “So he was guilty.”

  “I wish I could tell you something different.”

  The doorbell rang.

  She reached for her purse on the glass coffee table. “I hope you’re hungry. I didn’t feel like cooking, so I ordered some pizza.”

  “I’ll get this,” I said. I stood and headed toward the door, pulling a twenty out of my wallet.

  I opened the door, and a tall man punched me in the face.

  I staggered backward, stunned. The man had long, black hair and dark sunglasses and wore a black leather trench coat. He looked like he’d stepped out of a heavy metal video.

  He didn’t have a pizza.

  Before I could recover, he bolted through the door and punched me again. This time I fell, but my training chimed in, and I tried to kick his feet out from under him. Unfortunately he moved too fast, and I kicked air.

  Naomi threw her hands out toward him, and the air shimmered. As I mentioned, Naomi is a low-level wizard. From the energy blast, I’d say she’d gained some ground in the past half decade. The blast knocked the attacker back a step and gave me time to get to my feet.

  He punched Naomi before she could summon up another blast. She hit the wall hard, cracking the drywall and knocking the paintings askew.

  I raced over and grabbed the man around the neck from behind. He grabbed my hands and pulled them away from himself. The son of a bitch was strong. I drove my knee into his kidney, but he barely reacted. He twisted around, folding my arms over themselves hard and fast. I flipped sideways and crashed through the glass table. The glass hurt a little, but when I landed on my side against the metal table support, that hurt a hell of a lot more. I couldn’t breathe.

  The warrior grabbed Naomi by the throat and lifted her off the floor. “Where are the crystals?” he asked.

  She tried to speak, but all that came out were a few guttural choking noises. He drove her into the wall, further cracking it and knocking one of the pictures down. I don’t know if it was “peace” or “tranquility,” but I don’t suppose that matters much. He relaxed his grip on her throat.

  “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “Don’t lie to me, bitch.” He slapped her across the face.

  I struggled to get up.

  The warrior turned to look at me. “Don’t even think about it,” he said.

  Blood dripped into my eyes as I pushed myself to my feet. My side throbbed. I held my ribs and wondered if they were broken. It hurt to breathe. I didn’t get a chance to throw any one-liners at him about how it’s not nice to hit a woman or anything. As soon as I was up, he dropped Naomi and spun around. He moved so fast, I had a hard time blocking his roundhouse kick. But I did block it.

  Well, the first one.

  The second kick came so fast, I didn’t even see it, and I found myself on the floor again in more pain. I wished I’d worn my shoulder holster. I could have just shot him. But no, my gun was back at the office.

  Naomi moved to blast him again, but he caught her hands and held them apart. Energy danced on her fingertips, but she couldn’t direct it toward him.

  I grabbed a shard of glass from the table, rolled over, and got up.

  He looked back at me. “Not very bright, are you?”

  “I have my moments,” I said, taking up a fighting stance. “Come and get some.”

  “I’m not here for you.”

  I knew he couldn’t let go of Naomi’s arms or she’d be able to blast him again. I also knew he had incredible speed and the only way he could attack me right now was to kick me when I came close enough. I figured I’d catch the kick and slice open his femoral artery. Hey, it was a plan. It wasn’t a practical plan and certainly not a plan I ever got to put into action.

  He didn’t kick me.

  Instead, he threw Naomi at me.

  She hit me like a battering ram, and I crashed backward into the flat-panel television. Mr. Metallica might have thought the energy flowing from her hands would hurt me. It would probably have killed a normal person. While in most respects I am a normal person, I do have one advantage when dealing with wizards: magic doesn’t affect me. It’s the reason I can handle cases such as Naomi’s.

  The warrior grabbed Naomi by the leg and tossed her aside as if she weighed no more than a pillow. She crashed into a silver lamp beside the sofa. I didn’t see her land because by that time, the guy had grabbed me and hurled me through the front window. Magic can’t hurt me, but glass sure can and so can a hard landing.

  I hit the ground in the front yard as the pizza boy walked up the driveway with his red oven bag in one hand.

  “Holy shit!” the pizza boy said. He took a step back.

  About that time, I heard another energy blast, and the warrior flew backward out the window, landing a few yards past me. I couldn’t catch my breath or move, but he rolled right to his feet and reached into his trench coat. He pulled out a sword, a katana like the one David used to kill Kathy.

  “Holy shit,�
� the pizza boy repeated, doing his best John Belushi.

  The warrior ignored the boy and stepped over me as he stormed back to the house. Another blast of energy sent him reeling over me again, and I looked up to see Naomi jump through the window, hands glowing.

  “You’ve really pissed me off now,” Naomi said and blasted the warrior again. He rolled right to his feet as if he were simply performing a choreographed dance and started toward her again.