“All the more devastating,” Froister assured them. “Besides, we have a common cause. We want the free magic that exists. Be here one week from tonight when Speed has the information we need for our legitimate approach to the FGU. The rest of you should be refining your technique if we need to go for the second means. For now, good night. Meeting adjourned, gentlemen. You’re free to go back to whatever pursuit you left.”
The boys left, reluctantly, making sure no one touched a lamp. By means of threats and glares, they achieved a standoff. Each djinn held his hands ostentatiously out from his sides as he vanished. One Backyard Wolf leaned toward the lamp belonging to a Riverside Jackal as if to brush against it, and hooted hysterically when the Jackal jumped for him. He disappeared, leaving his derisive laughter behind on the air.
One by one, the young genies turned into puffs of smoke, and the room emptied of everything but lighting fixtures. Timbulo and a couple of the others went from lamp to lamp to make certain none of the boys remained behind, hidden from view. The secretary nodded to Froister. He let out a deep sigh, and rubbed his eyes.
“Do you think they bought it?” Gurgin asked.
“Oh, yes,” Froister said. “They’re dying to get out and grant wishes for themselves. Since they won’t trust one another, they’ll do anything to hasten that day. They have no idea how many brownie points and extras it takes to wish one of us free.”
“And it’ll be us, first,” Gurgin said, with a complacent nod. He looked at the others, who were glancing furtively at one another. “It was agreed. Al first, then me, then each of you in turn.”
“I don’t like it,” said DeNovo.
Froister shook his head. “At least you don’t have to worry about an audit anymore.”
“Not until next Tuesday, anyhow,” the businessman said, suddenly looking worried. Froister threw back his head and laughed until the glass shades around him rang.
“Do you think your little adversary will be in the office on Tuesday?” he asked. “First he’ll have to find his clothes! And then … if you were a desk jockey in a tight-lipped government bureaucracy, would you tell anyone you were kidnapped by a roomful of genies?”
A slow smile crept across DeNovo’s thin lips.
“I guess not,” he said.
O O O
“These are bad mothers,” Zeon said, as the two of them left the lamp warehouse and materialized sitting on the curb about a block away. “Whew! I love that. When I get the power, I know a lot of people I’m gonna make beg on their knees in front of me. Not that it’ll do them no good. How ’bout you?”
“I dunno,” Hakeem said thoughtfully. He was more than a little shocked at what he had just witnessed. More than the anguish of the IRS agent, he was haunted by the trapped expression in Mario’s and Razorback’s eyes. If he’d opened his mouth, it could have been him. “I … can’t think of anybody just now. I’m sure there’s lots, though,” he added, glancing up at Zeon. He need not have bothered to try and sound tough. The bigger youth was far away in his own fantasies of domination.
“We supposed to recruit some more people for Froister to make genies, to get us all free power faster,” Zeon said, snapping back to the present. “How about your friend Ray? Mario been wanting him in the Jackals for a long time. This way, he gets into two good organizations, maybe three.”
“No way, man!” Hakeem protested, and then had to soften his voice as the other regarded him suspiciously. “I mean, he’s a wimp. Boneless breast of chicken, man. Look how he jumps when his granny says go work for charity. That’s why I’m not hanging around with him anymore.” Mentally, he begged forgiveness of his best friend for maligning him, and hoped word never got back to Ray about what he’d said.
“I dunno,” Zeon said. “I think the man only wants warm bodies. I don’t think he cares if they’d be any good at genieing.”
Chapter 11
The door of the Assembly Hall flew open with more than usual force, and the small woman wrapped in turquoise silk draperies burst out into the hot night air.
“I cannot work with this man,” Mrs. Durja said, turning to point at Mr. Garner, who strode out after her, ready to continue the argument. “Two weeks we have had the same fights, over and over again. I cannot communicate with him on committee. In person, you are a very nice man, but when you want to be unreasonable, you are very unreasonable.”
“Me? I’m the nicest guy in the world,” Mr. Garner said, holding open the door of the Assembly Hall to let out the people behind him. The chairwoman, Alexandra Sennett, followed, amid the rush of fairy godmothers and godfathers eager to be about their rounds, on their way home, or out on such a nice Saturday evening. Rose and Ray were close behind her. Mrs. Durja appealed to the Blue Fairy.
“Alexandra, it is a failure,” she said. “We cannot agree. This man will not stop talking, even when you say ‘meeting adjourned.’ You will have to gather the recommendations for the central committee in some other way. I am resigning from the discussion group.”
“And I’m tired of listening to the two of you carry on,” Mr. Lincoln said, bustling out to join the growing circle under the awning. “We’re supposed to consider changes to the proposed charter, not yammer on whether we’re going to go through with the merger or not. Isn’t that a separate vote?”
“That’s right,” Alexandra said, turning a placating smile to all of the feuding parties. “The central office would ideally like to have our full recommendations by the time of our next meeting. Which of you wants to continue in the committee?”
“I do, but without him,” Mrs. Durja said, pointing at Mr. Garner, who spread his hands.
“I can get along with anyone,” he said.
“That’s not the whole truth,” Mr. Lincoln said, shaking his head. “You get along with anyone who goes with your ideas. I’ll stay.”
“I’m just showing everyone the holes in the proposal,” Mr. Garner said. “We’ve got to make certain we know what it is we’re supposed to be signing—whether or not I think we should be.”
“All right, but please, by next meeting?” the Blue Fairy asked, tapping her palm with her wand. “At that time, I’d like to take at least a preliminary vote on whether we would approve the merger based on these changes.”
“Well, I cannot help anymore,” Mrs. Durja said. “I have offered my suggestions, but this man”—she pointed at Garner—“has shot all of them down at once. I have nothing more to say.”
“Let’s try and work something out,” the chairwoman said. “Are you coming to the bar?”
“Yes, thank you very much. I certainly need a cold drink,” Mrs. Durja said.
“Let’s discuss it when we’re all more comfortable,” Alexandra said, nodding. She glanced around. “Mr. Guthrie, we’re all going for a drink. Do you care to … where did he go? My goodness, I didn’t even see him leave. What about the rest of you?” she asked. The others shook their heads.
“I think he went …” Mr. Lincoln folded his arms and blinked.
“Of course he did,” Alexandra said. “It’s too bad. I wanted to ask him more about DDEG procedures. I admit I know very little, but he didn’t seem to, either. I hope he’s not an accurate sample of their membership. He was almost pre-verbal.”
“I know they are all not like him,” Mrs. Durja said. “My cousin is a most learned man.”
“Isn’t it just like a bureaucracy?” Mr. Garner asked. “To go and represent them in another venue, they send their youngest and most unseasoned member, who has so little experience he doesn’t even know how to get out of being volunteered. It’d be like us sending you to audit their meetings, Mr. Crandall.”
“Uh, Ray,” Ray said.
“Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Garner said, putting out a hand to shake. “Call me Morry.”
“I couldn’t go to meetings,” Ray said. “I don’t have the extra time.”
“Smart boy,” Morry Garner said, clapping him on the back. “Don’t volunteer. Make them drag you kicki
ng and screaming.”
“I just wish Mr. Guthrie had stayed,” Alexandra said with a sigh. “He must have gone away with the impression that we don’t want to go ahead with the merger with the DDEG.”
“That’s what the majority of the membership feels,” Garner said.
“We do not!” Mr. Lincoln exclaimed. “Darn it, Morry, did you even ask anyone?”
“Sure I did,” Garner insisted. “I’ve asked more than thirty-five people. Eighty percent have said no to the merger. The WGA is a pipe dream.”
“That isn’t official yet,” Alexandra said.
“I wish he had stayed, too,” said the plump man Ray had sat next to his first day. His name was Chris Popp. “I wanted to talk to him in a very kind and general way about deodorants. Did you notice his B.O.? Whew!”
“No, I wasn’t ever very close to him except at coffee time,” the chairwoman said, “and then I don’t notice anything but whether I’m pouring myself caf or decaf.”
“Well, he did,” Chris insisted. Ray nodded silently, remembering the faint, acrid smell of the visitor from the Djinni, Demons, and Efreets Guild.
“I thought it was gasoline,” Ray said. “He was dressed for biking.”
“That must be it,” Alexandra said. “I think he had a bad cold, too.”
Ray felt guilty on the strange young man’s behalf, but felt he had to speak up. “I think it’s drugs,” he said. “He’s a sniffer.”
A few of the older members looked shocked, but Mr. Garner looked philosophical.
“If one of us gets him as a client, we could help him lose the addiction,” he said. “Trouble is, it’s still his choice. He could start again.”
Rose looked sad. “This is when I would like to cure all the ills of the world, and then I feel overwhelmed all over again. It’s so much easier to look at our mission one child at a time.”
“Talking of that,” Chris Popp said, his face brightening, “let me tell you about the stop I had just last Wednesday. There were twin boys in this house …”
“Save it for the bar,” Alexandra said, holding up her hands. “Who’s coming for a drink?”
Mr. Garner, Mrs. Durja, Mr. Lincoln, the secretary George, Rose, Ray, and Chris Popp all nodded in the affirmative. Alexandra smiled, and shepherded them deftly up the street.
O O O
They walked up the street a block from the Assembly Hall. Mr. Garner hurried to step in front of them all, and pulled open a glass door that Ray had never noticed in all the years he’d been walking down Glenwood Street.
“Ladies?” A rush of cold air blew out over them as Garner stood by, ushering them in. “Whew, the air-conditioning’s on high!”
“Brr!” said Mrs. Durja. “I wish I had a sweater.”
“You’ll get used to it in just a moment, Ganya,” Rose said. “Or somebody will spark you a warmth charm.” A patrol car rolled by on the quiet street. Ray, keenly aware of being under age, started to pull back from entering a bar in front of a police officer, but Rose caught his arm. Completely unselfconscious, she brought him inside with her. See, he told the policeman silently, it wasn’t my idea. “Come on, Ray. This is our little hangout, where we come for the required bull session after meetings.”
“The complaints aren’t required,” said Alexandra, as she ducked in behind them under Morry Garner’s arm.
“I’ve never noticed this place before,” Ray said, looking around curiously. “I didn’t know there was a bar on this street, and I have lived in this neighborhood all my life.”
A couple of the senior members exchanged glances. “Well, we want it easy to ignore,” Alexandra said. “It’s a safe haven for us and the other affiliate organizations. A place we can let our hair down.”
“Speak for yourself,” Garner said, running a hand over a balding scalp. Rose smiled at him.
“Some heads don’t look good bare,” she said encouragingly. “But yours does.”
“Flatterer,” he said. “You should have heard what one kid called me this week. ‘Chrome dome’!”
“Save it until I’ve got something to drink,” Alexandra said, avidly, heading toward a line of tables that had been pushed together along one side of the room. “Mmmh! I get so dry, talking and talking!”
Ray let his eyes get used to the amber light of the room. To the unobservant eye, it looked like any corner lounge, one that could have been on any street corner in Chicago, or probably any other city in America, maybe even the world. Ray heard the clack of balls hitting one another and peered up. In the far back of the room, he glimpsed a pool table under a wall-mounted cue rack. Two men leaned over the green felt top under a square high-intensity light. A pinball machine jangled tinny, electronic music beside the dark corridor that led to the toilets. In the center of the room was the real eye-catcher: a rectangular bar made of maplewood, copper, and leather. Hanging racks made of black metal dangled hundreds of sparkling clean glasses of every shape. The crystal picked up light from the dozens of small sconces on the walls and scattered tiny golden stars everywhere. Leather-topped stools surrounded the rail.
Away from the center island, low tables of the same warm, toffee-colored wood seated dozens of people talking to one another in low voices. The difference was that on top of the usual scents of beer and coffee and furniture cleaner, Ray picked up on that special cool fragrance of good magic working.
“You see, we don’t so much strong-arm non-union people out of here,” Rose said, guiding him forward, “as strangers never really feel like coming in. Maybe you felt something when we came in?”
Ray remembered a sensation, as if he was passing through a hanging curtain of silk threads. “Yeah. You put a … a charm on the door?” he asked.
“Yes, of a sort. We call them wards. They’re permeable to anyone who is deeply in need of our services. A month ago a little child, a toddler came right in, in front of everybody.” Rose chuckled. “You should have seen everybody make a fuss over her. But normally, it’s just us. You get all kinds of affiliates in here.”
The first few tables near the door were empty. Ray ran his finger idly along the smooth wood of one of the chairs, and sensed the same kind of goodness he felt in his wand. In the nearest corner was a round table full of men and women. On chairs and under the table legs were odd, white objects with handles. Ray caught a few words from one of the men when he raised his voice to make a point.
“… Should be concerned with preventing tooth decay!” He picked up one of the weird objects, flung it down on the table, and clicked it open to distribute papers to the others. The object turned out to be a briefcase made to look like a giant molar. “Now, if you’ll look at my figures …”
“Dentists?” Ray whispered to Rose as soon as they were past.
“Tooth fairies,” Rose said, out of the corner of her mouth.
Ray turned to stare. One of the men noticed him, and smiled at him over the top of his own briefcase. Ray recognized him as the Indian shopkeeper who had a magazine stand on the corner of the street where Ray lived.
“He’s a tooth fairy?” Ray asked. “My dad buys the Sunday paper from him!”
“So do I,” Rose said. “Everyone’s got to make a living, Ray.”
“But I know him!”
Rose smiled. “You’ll be surprised to find out how many people you know are connected with work like ours.”
O O O
Ray loped behind Rose and the others toward a big table. Some of the FGU already assembled there waved to come and join them. Rose paused to exchange greetings with the bartender, a big, sandy-haired man in his fifties, with a fine mustache that curled at the ends.
“Ray, this is Edwin,” Rose said, motioning him forward so he could shake hands. “He runs a clean establishment. I don’t have to tell him that you’re under age, so no booze.”
“Rose!” Ray protested. His mom would have said something like that to embarrass him in front of the aunties. He shouldn’t have to put up with it in the company of adults.
“Oh, never mind,” Rose said, smiling a little. “I’m sure you’d tell him yourself. And I’m sure you don’t drink anyway, right?”
Ray sighed. There was no point in trying to put on a sophisticated face in a room full of mind readers. “Right.”
Edwin winked across the bar at him. “I’m used to the goody-two-shoes around here. What’ll it be, ladies and sir?” he asked.
The Blue Fairy ordered a couple of pitchers of soda for their table, a half dozen bottles of mineral water, and one pitcher of beer. Ray heard a disdainful “humph!” from not far away in the dim room. He glanced over casually, then backpedaled and grabbed Rose by the arm.
“What’s the matter, honey?” she asked.
Ray pointed, unable to make his lips and tongue say what his eyes could see. Some distance away from him, a woman in a pink summer dress sat at the bar with a shot glass of whiskey in front of her. She had seemed perfectly ordinary until Ray watched her reach for the glass. She had to lift it in both hands and steady it at her lips as if she was drinking out of a bucket. If she had been standing up, she could have been no more than fifteen inches high. On her back were tiny, lacy wings, the very sort he’d been teasing Rose about just the other day. Her hair was styled into fantastic loops and braids, and her skin had delicate roseate tints on the cheeks and lips, like a model on an Art Nouveau poster. The little lady was seated on a stool about the size of a hamburger bun but with very long legs so she was at elbow level to the bar rail. Beyond were four more like her, wearing different-colored dresses and with different hairstyles and color, but all with the same disgruntled expressions on their faces.
“Oh. Fairy fairy godmothers,” Rose said in a low tone. “Ethnic. Some of them mix with us humans, some don’t. But this is a safe hangout for them, just as it is for us.”
“I don’t believe it,” Ray whispered, awed. The pink fairy tilted an eye toward him and winked. He gave her a weak smile, and dumbly accepted the trayful of glasses Edwin handed him.
“Say, she likes you,” Rose said, surprised. “That’s a point in your favor. Some of the rest of us they don’t deign to notice. The union was started by the real thing. A few hundred years ago they started letting mortals join. They still control most of the leadership positions. Some of the real fairies think that the FGU has gotten too big. They want to throw us all out and go back to the old days when the union was much smaller, and all fairies. I think the realists among them know that those days are over. The population of children who need a wish granted is too big, and there’s just too few of them.”
The Magic Touch Page 12
