by John Levitt
Two of the attacks had been in the East Bay Hills, and one had been in Marin. Nothing in the city so far—maybe the creature was smart enough to know that would bring more heat than it could handle. Usually Lou could have tracked it down for us—he can find almost anything. But this creature was a distorted version of an Ifrit, with some of the same qualities. It was resistant to magical energy, and that messed with Lou’s tracking radar. The only reason we’d been able to find it at all was a brief story in the paper about a man who swore he’d seen a wolverine near the Presidio. He’d been ignored, most people chalking up his story to mountain lion hysteria.
When we were ready to leave, my old battered van came in useful for once. A hospital orderly helped me load Victor into the back of the van where he could lie flat without having to bend his leg. The ER doc had given Victor a scrip for Demerol, which showed how serious he thought the pain was going to be. Victor wouldn’t fill it, though. He thought using drugs to deal with a problem of any sort was a sign of moral weakness, although he wasn’t above using talent to dull his pain. I didn’t see the difference, except that while talent isn’t available to ordinary citizens, drugs are. But that’s Victor.
A half hour later we were back at his Victorian house out by Ocean Beach. It’s a beautiful place, a mansion really, but it seems a bit out of place for the neighborhood. I didn’t find out the truth about it until I’d known him quite a while. In reality, it had been built not that many years ago from plans Victor had brought back from England when he’d lived there. So it really was a faux Victorian, complete with gables, windows overlooking the Pacific, and authentic period furniture. It must have cost a fortune to build, but Victor has never had any money concerns.
I helped him up the stairs, moving one step at a time. He stretched out onto the couch in his study, extending the damaged leg and sighing with relief. For once neither one of us was sniping at each other—I was shaken by the viciousness of the attack on him, and even the usually unflappable Victor was subdued by the extent of the damage to his leg.
I called Eli, my best friend and Victor’s as well, although Eli was more of a colleague to Victor, more of a mentor to me. He was away at a conference and not answering his cell, so I left a noncommittal message for him to call me back.
Maggie, Victor’s Ifrit, stalked over and looked at me as if somehow I was responsible for the situation. Being a cat—well, sort of—she believed the proper assignation of blame is always the most important thing. Lou quietly backed out of the way. She and Lou don’t get along particularly well, though they tend to set up an informal truce whenever there’s real trouble.
The three hours we’d spent in the ER had given Campbell just enough time to make it down from her cabin in Soda Springs, up by Donner Summit. She breezed in ten minutes later, gave me an abstracted wave, and immediately went to Victor’s side. His leg was wrapped in bandages from the ER, which had to be removed before she could assess the damage. She looked at the leg and drew in her breath exactly like the ER doc had done.
“Wow,” she said, slipping off the backpack that carried the tools of her trade. “I’m surprised they let you leave.”
“They can’t actually keep you there against your will,” I said. “And even if they could, well, it is Victor after all. Can you fix this?”
She threw me an annoyed glance. Campbell hates it when I referred to healing abilities as “fixing” things. She doesn’t consider herself a practitioner as such, not the way Victor and Eli and I do. She’s a healer more in the Wiccan tradition, although she’d fallen away from that lately. She couldn’t create illusions or aversion shields. She couldn’t animate the inanimate or perform magical forensics, or do any of the things Victor and I could. But what she could do was heal, using plants and a great deal of personal energy, and she was far better at it than I could ever dream of being.
But this time she was too shaken to even comment on how I’d phrased it. She kept shaking her head, looking doubtful. Campbell is confident in her own abilities, and rightfully so. And if she was worried . . .
“Well?” I said, suddenly a lot more worried than I had been. Maybe Victor really would lose the leg.
“Piece of cake,” she said, almost bitterly, which was very unlike her. “That is, if we’re talking about a five-tiered wedding cake that takes two days to create. I had no idea it was going to be this bad.” Only Victor seemed unaffected.
“Do what you can,” he said.
Campbell pressed her lips tightly together. Then she nodded slightly as if having an internal dialogue with herself, and the worry lines on her face smoothed out.
“I’m going to need some special materials I don’t have with me.”
“I’m guessing it’s not anything that will be available at the local Safeway,” I said.
“No, not exactly. But I do know where to get what I’ll need.” She turned to Victor. “Are you going to be all right alone for a while?”
“Of course,” he said. “Timothy should be home soon, anyway.”
Timothy, somewhat to my surprise, was still hanging in there—in fact, it was taking on all the aspects of a real relationship. After years of clueless twinks, Victor finally had met a real person. Now, Timothy wasn’t exactly in love, as far as I could tell, but he did really like Victor. He refused to take any of his crap, though. Maybe that was the kind of person Victor had been waiting for.
I wasn’t much of one to judge. My own relationships haven’t turned out so well, Campbell being one notable example. But at least we were still friends, and there was clearly still something between us. We’d both been through some changes, and although we never talked about it, there was that someday possibility hanging around. And surely if Victor could find someone, there was hope yet even for me. At least I’m easier to get along with than he is. I think.
“Okay, then,” Campbell said. “We’ll be back in a while.”
We took my van, and the place she had in mind was a botanica over on Church Street in upper Noe Valley, not far from where I live. I’d passed by it many times before but never had reason to go inside. The front display windows were dusty and crammed with every sort of object imaginable, all related in some way to religion or magic. Miracle candles. Statues of the Virgin Mary and various saints, all with copper-wire halos. A large statue of many-armed Kali next to an African wood carving of an ibis. Dolls with rose-patterned gowns hanging on wires from a tree branch. Scattered throughout, seashells and dried starfish from the sea. And tucked discreetly in a corner, something labeled herbal Viagra.
The woman behind the counter stared at me with a flat, impassive expression that darkened when she saw a small dog at my side, invading her precious sanctum. But when she saw who was with me a broad smile transformed her face. She rushed out from behind the counter and embraced Campbell, still looking suspiciously at me out of the corner of her eye.
“Campbell!” she said, with just a trace of an accent. She wore a white baseball cap perched jauntily over a grandmotherly face. I couldn’t even begin to guess her race or ethnicity.
“Hello, Mama Yara. How have you been?”
“Good, good. And you?”
Campbell just shrugged. She noticed the eye Mama Yara was giving me.
“Mama, this is a friend of mine,” she said. The suspicious look did not abate. Campbell altered her tone, almost as if she were reciting a ritual. “I have helped him and he has helped me.”
Mama Yara relaxed and the suspicious expression faded, but I can’t say it was replaced by any actual warmth. She turned back to Campbell.
“You are needing some herbs, I would guess.”
“I do indeed. And I’m in a hurry. A bad wound, and a friend.”
Mama Yara nodded and made her way back toward the counter, Campbell in tow. I looked around the store, politely keeping my distance. The floor was painted a sky blue, faded with age. A series of white lines, barely visible, delineated astrological signs. Fresh flowers abounded, along with plants, more
statues, bronze censers, and bells of all different shapes and sizes.
“I could use some pau d’arco,” I heard Campbell say. “And some white cobol.”
“Some benzoin of Sumatra, you think?” Mama Yara asked. “It could help.”
“Surely. It couldn’t hurt. And most important, I need some . . .”
Her voice trailed off and I didn’t catch the rest. Whatever she was asking for must have been special, because I could see Mama Yara’s eyebrows go up and she lowered her voice. She glanced over at me again, clearly not happy to have me there despite Campbell’s vouching for me. It felt like we were scoring dope from a particularly paranoid dealer.
The bell over the door tinkled as another customer came in, a woman. I glanced over briefly and then looked again. Tall, willowy, long red hair, and longer legs. A sleeveless top showing off two dragon tattoos, one red and one green, curling down each arm. A striking figure, but that wasn’t why I gave a second look. I knew her.
It was Ruby, a practitioner I hadn’t seen for years. I hadn’t known her well, but she wasn’t someone you forget. Also, I’d pursued her with some determination when we first met, oblivious to the fact she was gay, until she casually mentioned an ex-girlfriend to help clue in the clueless.
She noticed me the same time I noticed her, and her face lit up with delight. Apparently, all was forgiven and forgotten.
“Mason!” she said. “I’ve been meaning to look you up. How have you been?”
“Getting by,” I said. “You? I thought you’d left the city for good—didn’t you move to Paris or something?”
“Florence,” she said. “Studying art. And some other things. Have you heard of Giancarlo?”
I certainly had. Giancarlo was not only in the same league as Eli in terms of magical scholarship but he also possessed the same innate level of talent as did Victor. Giancarlo was also a magical enforcer of sorts, although from what I’d heard, more like a Mafia don than a cop. He and Eli were great Internet friends.
“You were studying with Giancarlo?” I said, impressed.
“I was. The last five years, to be exact.” She bent down as Lou rushed over to greet her. I remembered he’d liked her. “Louie. Good to see you, too.” She pulled gently on his ears for a moment before straightening up.
“Are you back for a while?” I asked.
“Yep. Back for good, or at least that’s my plan. Are you still playing music?”
“As often as I can.”
“Still working with Victor?”
“Only when I have to.”
She laughed. “Not much has changed, I see.”
In some ways that was true, although a lot had happened in the last few years.
Campbell came out of a back room where Mama Yara had taken her, saw us talking together, and joined us. Introductions were made, and Ruby looked curiously at the herbs Campbell was holding.
“What’s that root you’re holding?” she asked. “That’s new to me.”
The conversation took off from there, and I was momentarily forgotten. I didn’t blame Ruby—I’m sure she was interested in the herbs, but it didn’t hurt that Campbell was hot; no doubt about that. She’d let her blond hair grow out, and even though she was wearing nondescript clothes and standing in a dingy herb store, nothing could hide her vitality and energy. A strong face and a toned, athletic body—she was an outdoors girl all the way. Unfortunately for Ruby, Campbell was also completely straight. Or at least I assumed she was from previous experience, but if anyone could make a woman think twice, it would be Ruby. She turned back to me after just a minute, though.
“I’m actually glad I ran into you,” she said. “Apart from wanting to see you. You’re still in touch with Victor, right?”
I certainly was, considering Campbell and I were at the botanica collecting herbs for his recovery. Ruby didn’t know that, but she did know that the last time she’d seen me I had been working for him, and she knew that Victor is the chief magical enforcer for San Francisco and the Bay Area. It’s his job to keep an eye on the magical practitioners living here, making sure they don’t use their special talents to scam civilians, win beauty contests, fix elec tions, or any of the other things that might occur to an unscrupulous person who possesses magical talent.
Chief enforcer is an impressive title, but maybe less so once you realize he’d appointed himself to the job. Practitioner society isn’t very structured—there are no official titles or positions. Practitioners are far too individualistic to develop any sort of hierarchical system. But without Victor and those like him, that society would soon devolve into chaos, with each practitioner doing whatever struck his fancy.
Then our existence would become widely known—already far too many people have at least an inkling that the world is not as prosaic as it seems to be. What would happen after that is anyone’s guess, but judging from the history of mankind, it wouldn’t be pretty. Laws passed against the practice of magic. Suspicion, envy, blame, and eventually lynch mobs. And although some of us do possess impressive abilities, our numbers aren’t large and one army special forces unit could cause us a lot of grief. We’d put up a good fight, but you can’t take on the whole world.
So, some type of magical enforcement squad, official or not, was a necessity. And for a while I worked for Victor as part of his enforcement group, along with Sherwood and Eli. Sherwood and I had been together for a time, but it hadn’t worked out. Then, about a year ago, she had fallen victim to a bad practitioner. That loss had left its mark on me. Eli, my mentor and best friend, didn’t exactly work for Victor—he acted more as an elder statesman and an adviser. Victor relied on Eli and seldom went against his advice. I was either a valued colleague or a low-level employee, depending on the day.
Eventually I’d got tired of playing cops and robbers and quit the group. I wasn’t cut out for the job anyway. I started playing music full-time as a jazz guitarist, my true passion, and I was a whole lot happier, though poorer.
But then some unpleasant things started happening in the city. Ifrits were vanishing, and someone kept trying to kill me for reasons I didn’t understand. Sherwood talked me into coming back to the group, and we eventually found out who was responsible—but there had been a price to pay. There always is.
Then, not long after, more trouble. Dead practitioners, and worse—others whose minds had been destroyed, leaving nothing but a husk behind. And finally, although the person responsible had eventually been stopped, there was one small matter that still needed to be taken care of—the creature we’d been hunting.
But all that history would take an hour to relate, so all I said was, “Of course. Just came from his house, as a matter of fact.”
“That’s good. I need to talk to him.”
“You looking for a job?”
“You never know. Actually, he offered me one before I left for Florence. I didn’t think I could handle it back then. But that’s not it. There’s something odd going on in this city, and I was wondering if he’d heard anything about it.”
“What kind of odd?”
“The kind that Victor deals in. I’ve got an idea about something, but I’m not sure I’m on the right track. There’s . . . Well, I don’t know what it is, but I think there’s some sort of creature wandering around these days, and I think it might be dangerous. Have you read about those hikers that have been savaged lately?” That got my attention.
“Yes,” I said. “We’re aware of it. There is something out there—in fact, we’ve been trying to hunt it down ourselves.”
“What is it?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where did it come from?”
“We’re not sure.”
That wasn’t exactly true. I didn’t know what it was, but I did know it had come from an energy pool that I’d helped create. We had been testing the theory that Ifrits are actually creations of a practitioner’s subconscious. The idea had been to create an Ifrit, and it had worked, sort of. Except, as usua
l, things didn’t go according to plan—what had come out of that pool was no Ifrit, and it was dangerous.
Campbell had a puzzled expression on her face. She started to say something, then thought better of it. Ruby put her hand on my arm.
“Well, I’d like to talk to Victor about it. Maybe I could help. I learned a lot over in Italy.”
“I can well imagine. Giancarlo’s got quite the reputation.”
The bell tinkled on the door to the shop, and Ruby looked up and waved at the person coming through it.
“I’ve got to talk to Mama Yara,” she said to me. “Be back in a sec.” She left my side and went over to the counter where Mama Yara stood.
It looked like Mama Yara’s botanica was practitioner central today. I also knew the practitioner standing in the doorway. Everyone knew Ramsey, though few were glad they did. He might not have been the worst practitioner in the city, but he had to be the most annoying.
“Mason,” he said, holding out his hand as he came toward me. I gave the hand a lukewarm shake and had trouble retrieving it.
“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said. “Ruby and I are onto something. I left Victor a message, but he hasn’t got back to me.”
No surprise there. Ramsey was a wannabe enforcer, always bugging Victor about a job, and providing bits of information about totally inconsequential things. He would have made a great enforcer, except for his lack of three small things: talent, judgment, and intelligence. To make up for that, his personality was nonexistent, except for the ability to clear a room at any party five minutes after entering it.
“Well, Victor’s been busy lately,” I said.
He nodded knowingly.
“Yeah, lots of stuff going on.”
He spotted Lou and ran over to him. He bent down and picked him up, something Lou hates, even with people he likes, and Ramsey wasn’t one of those. I saw Lou’s mouth open slightly. He was going to bite him; I just knew it. For a second I thought about watching it play out, but that wouldn’t have been very mature on my part. Amusing, yes, but not a good thing.
