Dog Days

by John Levitt

  The rumbling from Louie grew louder.

  “You might want to quiet him down,” said Christoph. “It’s not a polite way to treat a guest and he’s starting to annoy me.”

  Entering a fellow practitioner’s house uninvited is almost unthinkable. Breaking in and uttering implicit threats is totally beyond the pale and Christoph knew it. He was sending a clear message—he no longer needed to observe any conventions, or even to be civil. He was that strong, stronger even than at the Challenges. I noticed he still had layered protective spells around himself, though, ones that could surely handle anything I could throw at him. He wasn’t as sure of himself as he pretended.

  And it’s not like he was invincible. You can be martial arts champion of the world and still have a lot of trouble against two merely competent fighters. And despite what you see in the movies, your chances against three skilled opponents is essentially nil. Christoph knew I had allies, people like Victor and Eli who would come after him if anything unfortunate were to happen to me. As with previous attacks he’d want to be circumspect, if only to preserve deniability. Which meant that whatever the reason for the visit, it wasn’t necessarily lethal. That’s what strict logic told me. I wish I was a bigger fan of logic.

  “You’re in my chair,” I said.

  “Very observant of you.”

  I wasn’t sure enough about the value of my logic to push the issue. “What is it you want, Christoph?” I asked, temporizing.

  He smiled his tight little smile. “Oh, I thought we might have a little talk,” he said. “You should be flattered. Usually I send one of my more interesting…acquaintances. But I understand you’ve run into some problems of late. Squirmy problems. Trips to interesting places. Things like that.”

  “You could say so. Any idea of why that might be?”

  “Hard to say. Maybe someone doesn’t care for you.”

  I was feeling slightly more comfortable. People who want to carry on conversations usually don’t want to kill you, at least not until they’re finished. I walked over to the fridge and got myself a beer which I didn’t really want. I didn’t offer him one. That was the point, of course.

  “Isn’t this the place where you explain your plan for world domination and make me an offer I can’t refuse?” I said. I was only partly joking.

  He seemed annoyed. Again, the point.

  “Being flippant doesn’t suit you, Mason,” he said. He obviously knew less about me than he thought. “But yes, I am offering you an opportunity. I don’t often do that. You should pay attention.”

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  He looked around at my apartment. “Do you really enjoy living like this? Wouldn’t you like to have money—I mean real money, like your friend Victor?”

  “Money’s nice,” I agreed.

  “And power. Power to get anything you want. Any woman you want, for that matter.”

  I was beginning to understand. This wasn’t about esoteric philosophy or practitioner politics. It was about the same things that drive the mundane world: power, sex, and money. Christoph was silent for a moment, trying to gauge my response. I didn’t think he’d really come here to offer me a deal. He had no reason to. But he wanted something. I threw him a curve.

  “Those gems. Like the one you used at the Challenges. Are they part of this deal?”

  He laughed, a high-pitched giggle that made him even scarier. “You noticed that, did you?” he said. “I thought you might have.” He reached down somewhere in his shirt and brought out a row of stones hanging from a silver chain like a necklace.

  His fingers brushed over the stones in a repetitive rolling motion, and the expression on his face subtly shifted to an almost sexual lust. I had thought it was all about greed, but there was something else going on here. I guessed that the stones were affecting him in ways he didn’t even understand. Whatever he had done to get them, he’d surely made a devil’s bargain. He held the stones out toward me.

  “These could be yours. You have no idea what it takes to obtain them. I hate to make deals, but you’ve turned out to be harder to get rid of than I expected.”

  “Speaking of which, what’s the deal with that?” I said. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “Do? Nothing. It just that your presence is, well, inconvenient. Nothing personal, you’re just in the way.”

  “I’ll bite. In the way of what?”

  “Ahh, that would be telling, now, wouldn’t it?”

  “Well, this is a lot of fun,” I said, “but do you have a point?”

  “Of course. Why do you think I’m here? I have a proposition for you.”

  This was better than I’d hoped for, a golden opportunity handed to me on a silver platter, to mix metallic metaphors. Whatever the proposal, all I needed to do was play along, maybe acting somewhat resistant at first, than reluctantly bowing to superior logic, or power, or whatever. Even a few minutes of groveling might be in order. Christoph was the cocksure type who would buy anything if you were obsequious enough. Then, when I found out what I needed to know, I’d hook up with Eli, Victor, and whoever else we could get and take care of the problem. It wouldn’t matter how strong Christoph was if we put together enough force to overwhelm him. I’m not a big fan of the one-on-one confrontation if you can avoid it.

  Then, as things often do, it all turned to shit. Louie, never the most patient of creatures, decided he’d had enough of conversation. He started growling again, stalking stiff legged toward Christoph, forgetting he was only as large as a medium-sized rabbit.

  Christoph raised his hand and pointed at Lou. “I thought I told you to keep that dog quiet,” he said.

  Wow. A double insult. Giving me orders in my own house and referring to Lou as a dog. For someone with an Ifrit of his own, he seemed contemptuous of them. I took a deep breath. I needed to apologize for Louie and smooth it over. I could do it. Until I found out what I needed to, passive non-confrontation was the mature and intelligent way to go.

  “Don’t tell me what the fuck to do,” I said. Like the scorpion on the back of the frog, I just couldn’t help myself.

  Christoph gave me an angry stare. He raised his hand and pointed at Louie again. I didn’t know what he intended; a practitioner attacking an Ifrit is unheard of, but it rapidly became academic. Louie saw what he perceived as a threatening hand being raised and instantly launched himself with the single-minded desire to sink his teeth into it. Christoph uttered a short guttural noise, clenched his fist, and Lou gave a most undoglike sigh and slumped to the floor as if every bone in his body had suddenly been removed.

  If I had taken a moment to think, I’m not sure what I would have done, but I didn’t. Somewhere in the back of my mind I must have been aware of the fact that no magical assault would do me any good. Christoph at present was just too powerful. But I did have my talent for improvising with materials at hand. What followed was sheer reaction. Before Christoph could focus his attention on me, I had reached over and snatched up the cherry maple softball bat that rested next to the front door. Those Saturday afternoon softball games I used to play in Dolores Park were finally going to pay off. I whirled and swung in one motion, trying to hit a line drive past the third baseman. Christoph was raising his hand in my direction when the bat hit him across the mouth. If he hadn’t been protected, that would have been the end of it right there. His jaw would have dissolved in a mass of splintered bone and teeth, and it would have taken him a year to recover, if he ever did.

  But of course, he wasn’t that vulnerable. His warding spells were geared toward attacks from magical energy, but there is always some crossover protection. Still, some of the force got through. I’m a fairly strong guy, and I hit him hard enough to numb his mouth, making it difficult for him to pronounce words. I smashed down on his wrist, making it impossible for him to gesture. Then I started in on his head. It was like hitting someone wearing a football helmet; the blows bounced off, but they still shook him. If I could hit him enough times he would
end up with a concussion and lose consciousness, protective spells or not. He managed to stagger to his feet, but by that time I’d clubbed him ten or eleven times and he was beginning to go glassy-eyed. I caught him one in the throat, and he gave a cough. I moved to the side and hit him on the base of his skull. He stumbled forward and seemed about to go down when suddenly there was a slight pop and he vanished.

  I’d never seen anyone who could do that before, but right now I wasn’t interested. I dropped the bat and crouched down beside Louie, who was lying motionless on his left side. I picked him up, and he dangled limply in that disturbingly boneless way that usually signifies the absence of life. I ran my hands along his side and cleared my mind, reaching out, seeking that spark of life. Nothing. I tried to relax further, not easy to do with surges of adrenaline still racing through my body, and reached out again. There it was. Faint, shadowy, but definitely present. I stood up and noticed my hands were shaking, whether from stress or relief I couldn’t tell. I tried to think of a healing spell, but came up blank. I may be good at improvisational magic, but when it comes to specifics, especially in the subtleties of the healing arts, I suck. It takes a lot more skill to repair a knife wound than it does to inflict one.

  There was one thing I could do. I curled Louie up, grabbed the clock off my bedside table, scrabbled around in a couple of bureau drawers until I found an old tube of super glue, and added a rubber band to stretch it out. I muttered a few words, wishing I’d paid more attention to all the things Eli had tried to teach me over the years, ran my hands up one side of Louie’s body and down the other, and laid a stasis spell over him. He turned rigid, like a little porcelain dog covered with fur. It wasn’t very good, but it would last a couple of hours until I could get help.

  I rang Eli’s number but only got voice mail. I left a message saying it was urgent, then called Victor. He picked up immediately.

  “Louie’s hurt,” I said. “I put a stasis on him but I need help.”

  “Get him over here,” said Victor. “Is it bad?”

  “Bad enough.”

  “Bring him here,” Victor repeated, and hung up.

  I placed Louie in my backpack, easing him in gently. I knew it wasn’t true, but it felt like if I dropped him he would shatter. There was a moment of panic when the van, usually so reliable, refused to start. I forced myself to wait a full minute, in case I’d flooded it, and it finally kicked over. Driving over to the beach house, I traveled fast, but not crazy fast. The last thing I needed would be to be pulled over by the cops and have to waste time dealing with that situation. Louie would be fine until we got to Victor’s, as long as the stasis lasted. For maybe the first time ever I felt reassured by the knowledge that Victor was in truth a far more skilled practitioner than I was.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was laying him down on the rug in Victor’s study. Danny the boyfriend sat quietly in a chair in the corner, staying out of the way but looking interested. Maggie drifted over on silent feet and gently reached out a paw, touching Lou on his muzzle. Victor shooed her away.

  “Not now, Maggie. Let me see what we’ve got.”

  He lowered himself cross-legged on the rug and opened up a satchel of black leather, like an old-fashioned doctor’s bag. He took out a crystal, several wooden dowels, a mirror, and several other objects not immediately identifiable. He arranged them in patterns, then rearranged them, then breathed on Louie’s face, all the while muttering to himself. Danny started looking puzzled. I guess Victor hadn’t revealed much about his real life to him yet. After about ten minutes, Victor sighed and got to his feet. He had a worried look on his face.

  “I don’t think I can do anything,” he said. “This is beyond my skill.”

  I felt the blood rush out of my head. I had assumed that Victor would be able to handle it. For all the snide things I had to say about him, the truth was that I had always counted on him at crunch time. He saw my face turn pale.

  “Hold on, Mason,” he said testily. “I said I can’t deal with it. I didn’t say nobody could. I might be able to pull it off, but he’s so far gone that if I screwed it up there wouldn’t be enough time to try again. I’m afraid what we need here is a specialist.”

  The blood started returning to my face. “Who do you know?” I asked.

  “I assume you want someone good?”

  I didn’t say anything, just stood there staring.

  “Right. Well, there’s a woman who lives around Soda Springs, up near Donner Summit. Her name is Campbell, and she’s one of the best. She’s technically not a practitioner; doesn’t seem to care much about such things. She calls herself a healer. Practices Wicca, of all things.”

  “I don’t care if she prays to a sheep in the sky as long as she can help.”

  “Well, if anyone can, she’s the one. You’ll have to go up to see her, though. She’s a lot stronger on her home turf.” He broke off and put his hand on my shoulder, a very uncharacteristic gesture for him. “Don’t worry, Mason. I’ve seen her do some very impressive work.” He glanced down at Louie’s still form on the rug. “We’re not rid of him quite yet. I’ll give her a call and let her know you’re coming.”

  After he made the call, Victor came back and replaced my stasis spell with one of his own, one that would last longer. It also got rid of the frozen stiffness mine had caused. He didn’t say a word about my obviously inferior effort. He also made sure I knew how to remove it so the woman would be able to work on Lou.

  “Be careful,” he cautioned. “He’s probably got no more than half an hour at most after you take it off. Make sure everything is ready to go before you do.” He gave me a map he had printed up on his computer, marked with a circle representing her house. “It’s pretty easy to find,” he reassured me. “You shouldn’t have any problem.” That phrase was not one of my favorites, from bitter experience, but I let it pass.

  Victor gazed out the window. It was growing dark and the rain was really starting to come down. He sighed, looked at me, shook his head, and reached into his pocket.

  “Here,” he said, handing me a car key. “Take the Navigator. It’s all-wheel drive and it’s bound to be snowing up there. That van of yours will never make it. Oh, and you’ll need a coat.” He went over to a closet and pulled out a North Face ski parka as if he’d had it waiting there for just such an opportunity.

  I thanked him abstractedly and scooped up Lou. He went back into the backpack and since he was no longer stiff as concrete I curled him up as if he were sound asleep. Victor walked back over to where Danny was sitting and rested one hand lightly on his shoulder He was going to have some ’splainin’ to do.

  Downstairs, I fumbled with the keys to the Navigator until Victor came down and showed me how to work the keyless entry. I was on the road five minutes later. It wasn’t until then that I realized he hadn’t even asked me what exactly had happened. People can sometimes surprise you.

  I headed across the Bay Bridge and out I-80 toward Reno. In good weather, it takes about three hours or less to Donner Summit, but with the rain coming down it was going to take longer. After you pass Sacramento the highway starts gaining elevation, and the rain grew colder. Then it started turning to sleet. Then it started turning into snow. The wind picked up until I could barely see the road. Every so often snowplows would come rumbling by, but there was no way they could keep ahead of the accumulation.

  The Soda Springs exit is almost at the Donner Summit, and a foot of snow covered the road by the time I reached it. The Navigator plowed through as if it were a dusting of sand, barely even sliding, while cars with chains were clunking along hesitantly. I thought of all the times I’d cursed the drivers of SUVs and blessed the fact I now had one.

  I headed down Donner Lake Road, then Soda Springs Road. I was supposed to turn off somewhere along the way, but now that I was off the main road, the snow was even deeper. The flakes were coming down horizontally, slamming into the windshield, and even with low beams the snow reflected and swirled until I could
no longer see farther than the end of the car hood. Eventually I turned off the headlights and drove with only the parking lights on. I still couldn’t see the road, but at least I had some idea of where it was. I stopped and turned on the interior lights to check the map Victor had printed out for me. I should be right on top of where the turnoff was supposed to be. I turned off the dome light and started inching along, and sure enough, about a hundred yards farther along the road, there was a smooth patch veering off to the side that could only be a road.

  The wheels of the Navigator spun out as I cautiously made the turn but I kept momentum going and made it without getting stuck. I didn’t have time to congratulate myself though because almost immediately after, the road disappeared into a snowdrift deep enough to high center even the Navigator’s ample clearance. After a few futile attempts to rock it out, I got out to assess the situation. I pulled on the North Face parka Victor had lent me, mentally blessing him again. He may have had no psychic powers, but his Boy Scout be-prepared philosophy was almost as good.

  As soon as I got out, I could see what I had done. The road curved off to the left, and I hadn’t. Not being able to see anything, I had simply driven straight off the road into a snowbank. The car wasn’t going to be moving again anytime soon.

  I climbed back in and considered my options. I could sit there and try to periodically run the engine to keep warm until the snow let up. Of course, if that took more than a few hours, which seemed extremely likely, the stasis spell on Louie would wear off and he would die. Or, I could start trudging off on foot, but if I got lost in the blizzard, which also seemed likely, we would both die. Or, I could call for help on my cell phone, except I didn’t have one. Never had seen the need for one. Victor had one, of course, and I’m sure it was always fully charged, but he had neglected to lend it to me. Most unhelpful of him.

  The Navigator did have a state-of-the-art GPS system, however, which let me know exactly where I was. I pulled out the map Victor had given me again and correlated the position on the GPS screen with the map. It looked like I was close to the house where this Campbell woman lived, but I couldn’t tell how close. I was in pretty good shape, and although I had no gloves and my shoes weren’t the ideal footwear for stumbling around in the snow, I should be able to make it.