“Hey, Ray!” Hakeem shouted, as soon as he appeared. Hakeem looked calmer and happier than when Ray had seen him last. In fact, he seemed excited.
“Hi, man, long time,” Ray shouted back. Hakeem grinned, his round cheeks bowing out and his white teeth gleaming. Things were better with him. Ray didn’t know whether to cheer up or worry more if his best friend was enjoying being with the Jackals.
“Hey, Ray!” Zeon called, motioning him over. The big youth put a heavy arm on his shoulder and drew him into the circle. “Tonight is decision time, man.”
Ray looked around at the gang, which closed around him like the claws of a wild beast. He became aware of an acrid smell, worse than sweat, worse than decaying garbage. Evil magic! No, he thought to himself. It couldn’t be.
“Decision?” he asked numbly.
“Yeah.” The big, bearded man who stepped up to face Ray was Mario Lewis himself, the high, almighty, great Howler. “See these?” Mario held up his wrists so Ray could see what was on them.
Gleaming steel blue in the lamplight were a pair of smooth bands like the cuffs of gauntlets. Ray examined them closely, but he couldn’t see how they went on. There were no seams or clasps. It was as if they had been welded to the skin around his wrists. He knew Mario was tough, but Ray doubted the head Jackal would have stood still for hot-fitting.
“Go on, you can touch ’em,” Mario said. Ray did. They were cool and smooth and undoubtedly metal. There was no way that they could have gone on except … by magic? He glanced around, and all the others stuck out their arms to show him they were wearing a pair of wristlets just like Mario’s.
“Where’d they come from?” Ray asked.
“From a ba-ad club we joined,” Zeon said, his long-lashed eyes looking more satyr-like than usual. He was high again. Mario jerked a hand, and Zeon stepped back into line like a whipped puppy.
“We are looking to expand membership,” Mario said, carefully. “You’re a smart guy. You would be a good addition to the gang—I mean, group. Because of the way their initiation is structured, we would be willing to waive the Jackal ritual, and make you a member of both organizations at once.” He said “organization” with a hoity-toity inflection, suggesting he heard the word recently from someone else.
“What other group?” Ray asked. He was trapped. If he said no, he’d probably get the hell beaten out of him, right here. No one in the house knew where he had gone. He couldn’t hope for rescue.
“The Djinni, Demons, and Efreets Guild,” Mario announced, carefully enunciating each syllable with pride. “This is the most incredible association you have ever heard of in your life, young brother—with the exception of the Riverside Jackals, of course.” He nodded his head around at the others, who all agreed loudly. “They offer you power, man!”
“Power? What kind of power?” Ray asked.
Mario grinned. “The best kind, man, and all you have to do is become a member. Watch this!”
It happened in an instant. Where the man had been standing, there was a cloud of black and brown haze about the same size. Ray felt his jaw drop. They did have magic.
“Ain’t that the baddest?” Zeon asked, and he turned into a puff of smoke, too. One by one, the physical bodies of each of the gang members around him burst from solid to gaseous. They swirled in a ring around him, weaving a complicated pattern, almost like a dance. All of a sudden, they were back in the same places they’d left, crossed arms held out stiffly before them. They broke the pose a moment later, and high-fived one another gleefully. Hakeem grinned at Ray.
“What do you think, bro?” he asked. “You going to come in? You’ll love it.”
Ray was astounded. None of the FGU had ever told him the Djinn Guild had such abilities. He was really impressed, and wished he could turn into a puff of smoke, too. The Fairy Godmothers had so far displayed only wimpy powers that they could use for themselves—except for flying, of course. That was great. But he couldn’t give up and join the DDEG. He had a calling, to help the kids.
“What’s the purpose of the Djinn Guild?” Ray asked.
“Purpose?” Zeon looked blank. Mario was more cagey.
“What purpose do you need, dude? You sign the paper, and you can flick in and out of existence for fun!” He jerked a thumb at one of his captains. “Baron, get the man a carton of smokes.”
“To hear is to obey, mother,” Baron said gleefully, and crossed his arms. Ray gulped at the insult the gang leader had spouted off before he vanished, but Mario dismissed it without a single twitch. Baron reappeared holding a couple of cartons of cigarettes, and presented them to Mario with an elaborate flourish. Mario extended one to Ray.
“Go on. Take it as an initiation present,” he said.
Ray looked around him. How could he keep from getting conscripted? If he took the carton, certainly stolen from the tooth fairy on the corner, he was in. If he didn’t take it, he was dead meat. At that moment Raymond felt grateful that he had let Rose prevail on the issue of clothing versus identification badges. The Jackals didn’t know he was a member of the FGU.
Mario was losing patience. “Go on!”
Ray hesitated. Certainly his friends at the Magic Bar would think less of him if he went over to a guild in which they had no faith. It was doubtful he could be in both societies at once, and he didn’t want to give up granting wishes for kids. Most of all he had no intention of joining the Riverside Jackals, no matter what fringe benefits came with it. But how could he escape without suffering grievous bodily harm?
“That’s serious magic,” Ray said, shaking his head, holding his palms upright so Mario couldn’t put anything into them. “It’s a big responsibility, accepting power like that. I don’t know if I can handle it.”
Before the sentence was completely out of his mouth, Ray felt rough hands strike him in the middle of the back, sending him sprawling on the street. Ray picked himself up to his hands and knees. A foot slammed down on his back, holding him in place. He turned his head to see Zeon glowering down at him. One of the other Jackals walked up, and drew back a toe and kicked him hard in the stomach. Ray gasped with pain. A thick ribbon of steam that turned into Mario appeared beside him and pushed the other gangbanger away.
“Not like that. He’s got to decide of his own free will. The lamp won’t take him if he doesn’t recite the oath.” Mario looked down at him, his eye sockets shadowed by the angle so they looked hollow and empty. Ray suppressed a shudder. “We’ve made you the offer you can’t refuse, Crandall. Start thinking. Become a combination Genie and Jackal, or maybe they find you in the river tomorrow.”
“I … I can’t decide right now,” Ray whispered, hating himself for sounding like such a coward. His ribs hurt like hell. He felt a stitch in his side, and wondered if one of the bones was broken. Hakeem materialized beside the gang leader, his usually cheerful face stricken. He had accepted the magical gifts without thinking about the source or the cost, of course, and was hurt that Ray didn’t want them, too. Ray felt his heart sink. His friend was lost to him. “Really. This is not for me.”
“You asked for it, moron,” Mario said, drawing back his own foot to kick him again.
“Ray?” Grandma Eustatia’s powerful voice echoed down the street. He turned his head. In the gap left between two parked cars, he saw that she was leaning out the door of the house, the light throwing the shadow of her body down the stoop. “Where are you, honey?”
Ray twisted out from underneath the restraining foot and leaped up. “I’ve got to go, man,” he said quickly. “That’s my grandmother. If I don’t turn up, she’ll call the cops.”
“She will, too,” Hakeem spoke up. He was clearly disappointed in Ray, but still acted out of the friendship they had once shared.
“Mama’s boy!” Zeon taunted him, giving him a hard shove. Ray staggered. Another man pushed Ray back the other way, and in no time, all the Jackals had joined in the fun.
“All right,” Mario said, sweeping his hand across his throa
t in a ‘cut’ gesture. “You can have a little time to think about it, but your answer next time I ask had better be yes. Got that, Crandall?”
“I understand,” Ray said, “but …”
But suddenly he was talking to no one. All of the gang members, including Hakeem, turned into smoke, and joined together, whirling faster and faster in a ring that narrowed, becoming a funnel cloud that lurched away down the street. As it passed under a power cable, it tore it loose from the utility pole, sending sparks flying everywhere. The cable end landed on the street and lay there, spraying out hot, blue arcs of electricity. It bounced, arching up like a jumping rat, and struck the side of a parked car, which promptly burst into flames. The windows blew outward, showering the street with glass.
“Grandma! Call 911!” Ray shouted.
He heard the door slam behind him, and he stood, staring at the hissing blue sparks as the cable flailed around like a loose garden hose. He had to do something about it. What could he do? He knew he shouldn’t get anywhere near a hazard like that. It would kill him as easily as it would anyone else. The burning car threw up clouds of harsh, black smoke against which the blue sparks looked like the effects from a science fiction horror movie.
The sound of a car approached from behind him. Ray turned and yelled, waving his arms to attract the driver’s attention. The car, unable to see him until it was almost on top of him because of his dark clothes and skin, screeched to a halt only yards away. Ray shouted and pointed at the smoking cable, now snaking all over the intersection. The man at the wheel leaned out and looked past him. His mouth dropped open.
“My God! Thanks, kid,” he yelled to Ray.
He pulled back into his car, which shot into reverse, made a hasty three-point turn in the alley, and hurtled off in the opposite direction.
The car was now burning furiously, threatening to involve other vehicles and a tree only a couple of yards away from it. The cable was still leaping all over the place. Where was the electric company? Ray clenched his hands, willing them to hurry. Someone was going to get killed.
“Come on, you guys!” he enjoined the brownie points in his head, “you do something! Tie a knot in it!” He envisioned a big glowing rope twisting around the end of the cable, folding into a bow and choking the sparks off dead. The brownie points flew in all directions out of his mind’s eye. Nothing he could do now but wait.
Suddenly, people came running from all directions. Their footsteps clattered on the pavement like the clap of giant wings. Two big men, one black and one white, positioned themselves at opposite sides of the intersection, turning back traffic as Ray had just done. More of them started directing to a safe distance pedestrians and curious onlookers who had come out from the houses and apartment buildings.
A glowing ribbon coalesced out of thin air. It closed around the sputtering cable, which spat one more tremendous burst, then stopped sparking. The long black snake lay still. Ray’s hastily sent wish had done its work. He started to move closer to see. A hand dropped on his shoulder and pulled him back.
“Just a minute, son,” said a man’s voice. “That’s not safe.”
Ray looked behind him at the Reverend Barnes. The minister was a couple inches shorter than he was, but broad and strong. Antoinette said he had been a halfback in semi-pro football just after college. From the strength the man still had in his hands, Ray could believe it.
“I just wanted to look,” he said.
“I know, but it could jump again at any moment,” the minister said. “You stay here with me.”
The two of them waited while emergency vehicles rushed into the neighborhood from three different directions. Fire trucks and police cars blocked off the streets as crews in rubber suits ran up and down, shouting orders. Three men wrestled a hose over to the flaming car, and sprayed it with water. Another firefighter came in with a cylinder of thick white foam, coating the hulk. The big men who had been directing traffic withdrew to the far ends of the intersection, out of the way of the technicians. Water filled the pavement, running right up under the soles of Ray’s shoes.
When it was all over, the police came by to ask questions.
“Did you see what happened? How’d that cable come loose?” asked one of the policemen, an African-American man in his fifties.
“A gust caught it, sir,” Ray said. It wasn’t a lie. He supposed you could classify a tornado as a kind of gust. “It just fell across the street and hit that car. I told my grandmother to call for help.”
“You probably saved some lives, son,” he said. “Good work.”
Ray felt a sudden pinch, like a charge of static electricity. He thought for a moment that the power had come back on unexpectedly, giving everyone a shock, but no one else seemed to be affected. The only clue to its source was the wand in his shoe, now radiating unusual warmth. He shifted, bending down to pretend to scratch his foot. The wand was okay, but its heat must mean something. Ray closed his eyes and thought hard, and was surprised to see that in his mental piggy bank, the brownie points were back, and they had come with reinforcements. There were two extra sparks he was sure hadn’t been there before.
What’s this? he wondered, then remembered what Rose had said about good people doing good things with magic. The extras were interest on his “investment.” Hey, thanks, he thought. The brownie points danced a happy pattern behind his eyelids.
“Thank you, sir,” Ray said. The policeman nodded and went on to the next witness.
When the cable had been reattached and the crews were getting back into their trucks, Reverend Barnes’s heavy hand clapped down on Ray’s back again.
“That’s all there is to see, Raymond. You’d better get along back home, now, son. See you Sunday.”
“Yessir,” Ray said. He looked at his watch. One o’clock! They’d been out there for over two hours. He’d missed his date. Antoinette must be hopping mad. It was much too late to call. “Um, sir? Please say hi to Antoinette.”
The minister smiled, but not at him; past him. “Say hi, yourself, son. Am I supposed to do your courting and make your apologies for you? Don’t keep her out too late.”
“Yes, sir. No, sir,” Ray said. He turned to find Antoinette just a couple of steps behind him.
“Her mother worries,” was Reverend Barnes’s final word on the subject. He turned away and walked off into the night.
“Hi, there, boyfriend,” Antoinette said, getting comfortably close and cozy. “That was better than a movie. Just want to get something to eat?”
“Yes,” Ray said gratefully. “I feel like I could eat a taxi, tires and all.”
“Looks like you could have a roasted Volkswagen if you want one,” Antoinette said, glancing back at the burned-out car, now being hitched up to a tow truck by a city driver.
Arm in arm, they went up the street, away from the scene of the fire. Emergency crews and firemen were still clearing up the mess. A team of three firefighters in rubber suits hosed the white foam off the street and into the sewer. Ray’s shoes sloshed as he walked.
“Heavens,” Antoinette said, when they got close to a light. “What happened to your shirt? You’re all covered with grease!”
“Nothing much,” Ray said casually. “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about something good, like you.”
Antoinette let the subject pass, but the matter of his shirt, and how it got that way, stayed on the edge of Ray’s mind all evening. Magic power in the hands of gang members! Nothing would be safe, forever, if the gangs could wreak magical havoc like that.
More than fear, he felt sorrow over Hakeem. Ray had lost his best friend to the Jackals. At last, they had made Hakeem a deal he didn’t want to refuse. How long could Ray hold out by himself? He saved up his questions, to ask Rose later.
Chapter 16
“And it’s a high fly ball!” the announcer shouted. The crowd stood up and went crazy as the baseball arced down toward the bleachers and smacked straight into the little girl’s hands. As peopl
e crowded around to congratulate her on the catch, she looked up into the stands where Rose and Ray were sitting, well out of the way of the action. “Two runs batted in by Petone! Cubs advance by three.”
“Yeah!” Ray cheered, standing up with everyone else and waving his arms over his head.
“It’s about over, folks,” the announcer continued, as the organ played the “charge!” music. “The score, at the bottom of the seventh, with two outs to go is Chicago Cubs, 7, New York Mets, 1. And it’s a beautiful Friday night here at Wrigley Field. Next up …”
Rose nudged Ray in the ribs. “Come on,” she said, nodding toward the wall. “Next up is you.”
“Aw, no! I’m enjoying the game,” Ray said, settling down onto the bench seat with his elbows on his knees. What a terrific opportunity this wish had been—for him. They’d picked up on the need string of Penny, probably the most serious Cubs fan in Chicago. They got to crash the game for magical reasons, and they had flown in, which Ray had enjoyed almost more than Penny had enjoyed catching that fly ball. What with work, fairy-godparenting, and seeing his friends, he hadn’t been to a game all summer. The Cubs walkover looked like a sure thing. That was, alas, rare enough that he wanted to be there to see it happen.
The Cubs second baseman went up to bat. The player squared himself across the plate, squinting at the pitcher. Ray wiggled on his bench seat and wrung his hands together, choking up on an imaginary bat, waiting for the pitch.
Rose, with a heavy sigh, reached across and took Ray’s wand out of his breast pocket. She tucked the wand into his folded hands.
Suddenly, Ray was overwhelmed by a sensation of absolute, horrifying desperation so deep it nearly bowled him off the bench. The game, the crowd, and the park all went right out of his mind. He sat straight up, clasping the wand, goggling at Rose.
“What is that?” he demanded. “I have never felt a string like that. It’s … it’s as big around as a tree trunk.”
“Someone who needs you badly,” Rose said. “Let’s go.”
The Magic Touch Page 18
