Dog Days

by John Levitt

  Oh, in case it’s not clear, Victor revels in being a gay stereotype. Small, neat, and dapper, he sports close-cut hair and one of those beards that consist of nothing but lines. A line down the jawbone, a line outlining the chin and lips, a line from the lower lip to the middle of the chin. All precise, all perfect. Expensive understated clothes. Today, a simple beige cashmere sweater that cost probably eight hundred dollars.

  Prissy. Bitchy. The perfect gay neighbor on a bad sitcom. But just as Eli is the smartest man I know, Victor is perhaps the most dangerous. Tremendous talent coupled with an unshakable conviction that his way is not only the right way, it is the only way. A gay Vince Lombardi, minus the empathy. Incorruptible. Loyal. The tenacity of a hungry weasel, and about the same compassion. Not very likable, but I would do a lot of backtracking to avoid having him as an enemy.

  Victor sat back down at his desk and held up a velvet pouch.

  “Is that what I’m supposed to look at?” I asked. He nodded briefly.

  “Well?”

  “In a minute,” he said. “I want to wait for Sherwood. Meanwhile, we can talk.”

  “I’m really just here to listen,” I said.

  “And listen you shall. There’s more going on here than you know.” We were interrupted by a quick knock on the door. “Ah, here she is now,” he said, as Sherwood opened the door and stuck her head through. She saw me and fluttered a quick wave as Victor motioned her in. She settled into one of the armchairs.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “What have I missed?”

  I briefly went over things again to bring her up to speed. Victor waited impatiently, finally breaking in. “The question now is—” He was interrupted by a sudden scrabbling from the direction of the fireplace followed by a growl, a hiss, and a sharp yelp.

  “Hey!” I yelled. “Cut it out.”

  Maggie had her back arched and Louie was facing her, teeth bared, with two crimson streaks running across his nose. Victor walked over to the fireplace and picked Maggie up again. He leaned against the mantel, now looking more like a James Bond villain than ever with a Persian cat draped over his arm.

  “Really, Mason,” he said. “If you can’t keep your companion under control you shouldn’t bring him with you.”

  I started to point out that the only blood visible was on Louie’s nose, but thought better of it. You don’t win a lot of arguments with Victor. Eli stepped in as he usually does.

  “No harm done,” he said. “Just a little disagreement.” He smoothly changed the subject. “You see, Mason, this is the problem. In the past few months, there’s been a growing feeling of something not quite right in the city. There’s someone out there who’s causing problems, testing their power.”

  “In what way?”

  “At first, mostly stupid things. More like mean-spirited practical jokes than anything else, but clearly designed to test power limits.”

  “Such as?”

  “Like Belinda Williams coming home from work one evening to find her cat frozen stiff on the living room floor.”

  “Not—”

  “No, not an Ifrit, just a pet. But still pretty awful for her. Remember Monica Warren?”

  “Sure. Kind of a flake. Flaming red hair.”

  “Not anymore. She woke up one morning and her hair had turned jet black. How about Chuck Paris?”

  I thought for a moment and shook my head. “Don’t think I know him.”

  “Low-level practitioner. He has a small apartment in the Marina. Works for us from time to time, minor stuff. Well, he was out of town for a few weeks, and when he got back, everything in his apartment was gone. And I mean everything. Furniture, television, clothes, books, canned goods, letters, you name it. Even his shower curtain was missing. The soap from the soap dish. Everything. And no sign of an intruder. He did have some basic wards in place.”

  “I think I read about that in the paper,” I said. “I didn’t know he was a practitioner. I just thought it was a little odd.”

  Victor set Maggie back down on the floor and walked back over to his desk. “Always right on top of things,” he commented.

  Eli continued, ignoring him. “It was odd. In fact, so odd that Vaughan decided to look into it. He said he had a feeling about it. A week later, he told us that he was on to something but he didn’t want to talk about it until he was sure.”

  “Unless he was sure,” Victor corrected.

  “Yes. Anyway, a week later Vaughan was dead.”

  “What happened?” I asked, trying to imagine what sort of freakish apparition would be too much for even Vaughan to cope with.

  Eli paused, thinking. “Apparently, it was a hit-and-run driver. No witnesses. A pickup truck was found a few blocks away with blood traces on the bumper and a shattered windshield. Stolen, the night before in Oakland.”

  “Quite a coincidence.”

  “You could say that. I went over to Chestnut Street to take a look. From the psychic imprint I’d say it happened about four in the morning. But here’s the interesting thing. I found a pile of recently burnt-out fireworks in an alley half a block from the impact site. Do you see?”

  “No.” Then I thought for a moment. “Oh, I do see,” I said, and I did. Misdirection. Vaughan walking across the street, every sense aware for magical avenues of harm. Fireworks going off in the alley, a startling distraction. A pickup truck speeding down the street. A mundane death. “Yes, I do see,” I said again.

  Sherwood had been quiet up to now, feet curled up in one of the big armchairs, watching me intently. Louie had gone over and curled up beside her. He had never much approved when we split up.

  “I’ve looked everywhere I could think of this last week,” she said, “trying to get a handle on this. Nobody seems to know anything, but there’s a real feeling out there that someone’s up to something.”

  “Well, that’s certainly helpful.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “But the question now,” said Eli, pushing his glasses down on the bridge of his nose, “is how these attacks on you figure in.”

  “Maybe the attacks aren’t connected,” I said, weakly.

  From the other side of the room Victor uttered a most un-Victor-like snort. “Puh-leez,” he said.

  “Get fucked,” I said automatically, then remembered Victor’s long memory and penchant for taking offense and getting even. “Sorry,” I apologized. “I mean, thank you for your contribution, Victor.” Sometimes I can’t help myself either.

  Eli stepped in again. “I think we can take it as a given that they are. The interesting thing is that the second attempt wasn’t necessarily meant to kill you. I think it was meant to neutralize you. So maybe it’s not so much that anyone wishes you harm as it is they want you out of the way.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I’m not involved in anything.”

  “That is the question. But I’d be extra careful if I were you. Keep Lou here close at all times.”

  “I always do.” I noticed that Victor was looking bored again. “Hey,” I said brightly, “I’ve got an idea. Maybe a trip to Mexico is in order. That way, whoever’s got it in for me is satisfied, and I get a vacation. Mexico in December sounds mighty inviting right about now.”

  “Mason,” Sherwood said warningly.

  I put my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Just kidding. But I’m not sure what it is you expect me to do. If you guys can’t find anything out…”

  Eli folded his hands together in his best professorial manner. “Okay, tell me,” he said, “what is Victor’s greatest strength?”

  I resisted the temptation to give one of several caustic responses that immediately sprang to mind.

  “Power,” I replied. “Power and tenacity.” Like a crazed wolverine, I added silently.

  “Very good. And Sherwood?”

  That was easy. “Empathy. And intuition. She knows when something or someone isn’t right. And maybe even more important, her ability to cover her true emotions. She could keep a secret from
even the strongest practitioner and her masking would go completely unnoticed. So she can’t be read and she can’t be fooled.”

  “And yet, she dated you,” Victor murmured, just loud enough to be heard. I instantly regretted having stifled my wolverine remark.

  “And yourself?” Eli continued.

  “My winning personality?”

  “Be serious, please.”

  I thought about it. “I honestly don’t know,” I finally admitted. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t know how much help I can be. I’ve got some skills, but so do a lot of people.”

  “It’s your talent for improvisation. I don’t think you realize how rare that is. It’s part of the same thing that makes you a good musician. You have an instinctive understanding of relationships that others have to study for years to comprehend. The problem is, you’re lazy.”

  He got no argument from me there. He turned to Sherwood.

  “You know jazz. What’s the most difficult thing most beginning players face, theory-wise?”

  She considered it. “Lots of things, I guess. It depends on the student. Maybe the relationship between chords and scales, what to play when and where.”

  “Chords and scales are the same thing,” I said automatically. “A chord is just a fragment of a particular scale.”

  “And when did you learn that?”

  “It’s not something you have to learn,” I said. “It just is.”

  “Exactly,” said Eli, obviously pleased. “You never had to learn it. It’s just there for you. Most musicians struggle to learn concepts that are instantly obvious to you. It’s the same with your talent. You use what’s around you to get the results you want. You never had to learn the relationships that allow the flow of power. You just see them.”

  “And that’s bad because?”

  “Because, given your natural gifts, you could have been an amazing practitioner, one of the greats, if you had worked at it.”

  “That never really interested me,” I said.

  “Or, you could have been a truly great musician, instead of a talented sideman.”

  That one really hurt. Especially because I knew it was true. Eli saw that and hurried on.

  “Be that as it may, it has an unintended side effect which is useful, quite serendipitous.”

  “And that is?” I said, still smarting from the criticism. Eli was one of the few people whose opinion meant something to me.

  “People are comfortable around you. Nontalented people. Most of us are so layered with spells, protections, and various magical objects that we put out something that makes ordinaries feel uncomfortable. They don’t know what it is, but they feel it. We have to shield most of the time when we’re in the regular world if we don’t want to make others ill at ease. But you have no magical aura hanging around you. Why do you think you have so many nontalented friends? You project nothing. You don’t need to; if you have to use your talent you just reach out and it’s there for you.”

  “And people talk to you,” put in Sherwood. “They trust you.”

  “Those who don’t know you,” added Victor.

  Eli gave him a look, like a long-suffering father dealing with perpetually unruly kids. Even Victor felt a little abashed, I could tell.

  “If I remember correctly, Mason, you used to have a lot of acquaintances who were less than ideal citizens.”

  “Still do,” I said, glancing over at Victor.

  “Excellent.” Eli beamed, deliberately taking my statement at face value. “Talk to them. I’m sure they run into stuff we never even hear about. We certainly aren’t getting anywhere. Find out anything you can. We’re not expecting an answer or a name, just a lead. Anything out of the ordinary, anything that would make someone sit up and think, Well, that’s pretty strange, before they go about their business.”

  I nodded. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “And be careful, Mason,” Sherwood added. “I seem to remember you hanging out with a fairly harsh crowd when we first met.”

  “Most of them are pretty good people,” I protested. “Some of them, anyway.” I thought carefully. “Well, a few of them.” I thought again. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be careful.”

  I got to my feet, but Victor held up a hand holding the velvet pouch he had brought out. “Wait,” he said. He walked back over, carefully unzipped the pouch and shook the contents out onto the polished surface of this desk. “Take a look at these.”

  “Something connected to all this?”

  “Quite probably.”

  Two jewels spilled out of the pouch. One was slightly larger than the other, large enough to sit comfortably on a nickel. They were different from the jewel I had found in the singularity, clear, like diamonds, but they were also the same. Like two breeds of dogs are different, but they’re still both dogs. Maybe Victor had thought to surprise me with them; if so, I had a bigger surprise waiting for him.

  “Killer,” I said. “How much did those set you back?” Since Victor considers me a boorish Philistine I try to be deliberately crass as often as possible just to bait him. Childish, I know, but I can’t help it. He brings out the worst in me.

  “He didn’t buy them,” said Eli. “They were found on Vaughan’s body. Examine them.”

  I picked up the larger of the two stones and randomly rolled it around on the palm of my hand. The stone caught the light and reflected it back, throwing off planes of glittering brightness shot through with hard, metallic colors. It held the same fascination as the one I’d found, swirls of color changing constantly, catching the eye and refusing to let go. It reminded me of something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It seemed obscurely important that I figure out what that was, and the longer I looked, the more important it became. Victor coughed loudly in my ear, making me jump, and the spell was broken.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” he said.

  “What the hell is it?” I asked.

  Victor smirked, pleased to have shaken me. “Take a closer look.”

  “In a minute,” I said. I pulled my own stone out and laid it down on his desk. “Look familiar?”

  This time it was Victor who looked shook up. He picked it up and glanced at it briefly before handing it to Eli. “Where did you get that?” he asked.

  Eli was regarding the stone warily. I expected him to go off again about the danger of returning with foreign objects, but he didn’t. Maybe the danger only applied to things I was wearing.

  “The singularity,” Eli said. “Obviously.”

  “The wolves showed me where it was,” I said.

  “Why would they do that?”

  “I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “I have no idea either. But I can see that these jewels aren’t just an interesting sideline. They’ve got to be at the crux of things. I would guess they’re the reason Vaughan was killed.”

  “My jewel and the one from Vaughan are almost identical,” I pointed out. “So there’s got to be a connection.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Have you examined them?”

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  “Look for yourself,” Victor put in. “Use your talent. Assuming, of course, you have any.”

  “All right,” I said. “But give me a minute. I need to get a feel for it first.”

  Of course I was lying. What I needed was a few moments to get my head together. Before, I had been looking at the stones themselves, not their essence. I’m not very good at magical examination; it’s not my strong point. I knew that. Victor knew that. But I wasn’t going to admit it. I sent out a probe and got nothing. I pumped energy into it to make it react. Usually that’s not a smart thing to do with an unknown object, but I felt safe with Eli watching. Nothing. I tried a couple more tricks, but it just sat there, impervious to my efforts. Frustrated, I looked at Eli and shrugged.

  Lou had been edging over to see what the fuss was about and I held out my hand to show him. He froze, sta
ring at it with the canine equivalent of disbelief, then the hackles on his neck stood up and he took three backward steps. He glanced up at me and walked over to the other side of the room, as far away as he could get.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Eli, taking it out of my palm and handing it back to Victor. “Maggie puffed up to twice normal size when she saw it. And don’t be discouraged by your lack of success. No one else has been able to figure out what they are either. I don’t understand how the same type of gems, if that’s what they are, turned up in both your singularity and on Vaughan’s body. But it’s no coincidence.”

  “And one more thing,” said Victor. “You think diamonds are expensive? If I took these two stones to Harry Winston’s, I could trade them straight across for everything else in the store.”

  “You should leave that stone you brought back with me,” Eli added. “It’s not a good idea to be carrying it around, considering where it came from.”

  “Fine,” I said. “But can I borrow one of these, then? If I’m going to find out where they came from I’m going to need one to show around. Besides, I’ve always wanted to possess riches.”

  “Sure,” said Victor sarcastically. “Take them both. Just stuff them in your pocket like you did yours. Don’t worry—if you lose them, there’s plenty more where they came from.”

  “You know, Victor, it might not be a bad idea to give him one,” Eli said thoughtfully. “I’m sure Mason will be careful, and he just might find something out.” He fixed me with his special warning stare. “You will be careful with it, won’t you, Mason?”

  “When am I never not careful?”

  Eli let that pass. Victor was about to add something when his phone rang. When he answered, he listened for a while, then responded with short acknowledgments and a final question of where, before hanging up.

  “Life goes on,” he said to Eli. “We need to do a run.”

  Doing a run meant investigating a report of magical wrongdoing, anything from serious bad behavior to petty theft. I was ready to leave, but Eli stopped me.

  “Want to come along?” he asked. “For old times’ sake?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Why not? Something heavy, I assume.”