The Half-Assed Wizard: The Complete Series: Books 1-4: The Half-Assed Wizard, The Big-Ass Witch, The Dumbass Demon, The Lame-Assed Doppelganger

by Gary Jonas

  “But he can see her.”

  Lakesha paused. “There might be another reason why she can’t see him. Keep talking to her.”

  Hey, Regina, when’s the last time you saw Demetrius?

  The day he died.

  You haven’t seen him since you died?

  No, how could I?

  Because he’s been sharing the house with you.

  You’re lying to me. It’s time to die.

  “You’re right, Lakesha. She hasn’t seen him.”

  “Poor Demetrius.”

  “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “I only suspected. When a ghost is caught in a loop, sometimes all they can see are those moments inside the loop. Over and over.”

  My heart broke for Demetrius. Poor little guy had shared a house with his aunt for more than thirty-five years, had watched her hang herself every night, and she’d never even spoken to him in all that time.

  This needed to stop. And the only to do that was to face Abigail again. The sooner, the better.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Rather than wait for her to call me, I went ahead and called Abigail. I put my phone on speaker and listened to the ringing. I was stretched out on my bed, going through her wallet. She had some credit cards, a few business cards—one for a hair stylist, one for some corporate executive at some tech company in Houston—and sixty-two dollars in cash.

  Abigail answered on the fourth ring. “This is Abigail,” she said. “What do you want, Brett?”

  “You, of course. How’s life with a little comic book fan inside you?”

  “He’ll do fine for us,” she said. “You were supposed to wait for my call.”

  “I didn’t feel like waiting.”

  “Patience is a virtue,” she said.

  “I thought ‘Patience’ was a Guns N’ Roses song.” I held up her driver’s license. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Getting ready to hang up on you.”

  “The picture on your driver’s license makes you look like a criminal, but since you are a criminal, I guess that makes sense.”

  “Nobody looks good in a driver’s license photo, Brett. Be patient, and I’ll call you soon about my wallet and the necklace.”

  “I went on an online shopping spree with your credit cards.”

  She laughed. “Nice try, asshole. If my cards weren’t maxed out, I’d have canceled them when I discovered you’d stolen my wallet. Smooth move on that, by the way.”

  “I gots skills.”

  “Gots? You need to learn how to talk like a grown-up.”

  “I’ve got a great idea. Let’s get a hotel room over on Seawall, spend the night drinking wine, ordering room service, and having wild monkey sex. When the night is over, I’ll give you your wallet, you’ll let Demetrius go free, and you’ll help me get Regina out of my body.”

  “What makes you think I’d sleep with you?”

  “I’m a guitarist. And you said I was a good kisser.”

  She laughed. “You’re an idiot. And if I did sleep with you, I’d want it to be just the two of us. Why would I want a couple of ghosts to go on a ride along?”

  “Fine. Let them go first, then we can have some fun.”

  “Tempting, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “I don’t know about that. You haven’t hung up yet, so I can’t be doing too bad.”

  Her tone of voice grew serious. “I want the necklace.”

  “It doesn’t look good on me, so I’m cool with giving it back to you. Now, about that hotel room…”

  “No.”

  “I’ll bring my guitar. I can play some classical for you. I’m no Andrés Segovia, but my version of ‘Leyenda’ is guaranteed to impress.”

  “I’m not buying that.”

  “I’ll do you for free.” Why was I turning this into a creep-fest? She was no longer flirting.

  “That perfume was evidently too strong,” she said.

  “Yeah, I can still smell it. I can’t get you off my mind. Whatever criminal enterprise you’re engaging in, if I can spend some time with you, I’ll help. And that’s not just the perfume talking”

  She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was full of regret. “Sorry, Brett. You won’t be alive to help.”

  “Don’t count me out just yet, Gorgeous.”

  “You may be cute, but unfortunately, you were never counted in. Goodbye, Brett. I’m sorry about Regina. I hope your death is painless.”

  And she hung up on me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Die die die, Regina told me.

  Sleep sleep sleep, I thought back.

  Death calls to us. It’s time to die.

  I didn’t want to talk to Regina, but she wouldn’t shut up, so I went downstairs to watch TV. Sabrina was out with Michael somewhere, so I had the place to myself.

  The remote was on the coffee table, so I kicked back on the sofa and clicked on the TV. It was just after ten, and the Houston news was on. I hit the guide so I could see what was on the other channels, but the news kept playing as I searched for a movie or show.

  “In other news,” the attractive anchor said, “more bad news for Westlake Mall, where a security guard was found dead in a women’s restroom yesterday afternoon, and an employee from Jacob’s Jewelry died from a suicidal fall the day before.”

  I hit escape on the remote so the news would go back to full screen.

  “In yet another bizarre turn of events, workers entered the Jacob’s Jewelry store in Westlake Mall to find a co-worker hog-tied behind the counter. Mitchell Godfrey has more.”

  A middle-aged man in a blue suit and tie talked to a reporter. “A man in his sixties came in here, claiming to be looking for a necklace to give his wife, and when I went around the counter to help him, he raised a hand and I passed out. I have no recollection of him hitting me or anything. I woke up in the dark with a gag in my mouth and my hands and feet tied up behind me.”

  The shot cut to the reporter standing in front of the mall. “The store reports that a single necklace was stolen, and security tapes were wiped clean. Police have no leads on either case, and are asking for information from the public…”

  Sabrina was over at Michael’s place, so I couldn’t talk to her about it.

  I clicked off the TV and called Lakesha.

  She answered her phone with, “Is Regina pushing harder for death?”

  “You could start with, ‘Hello.’ But no, she’s not.”

  “Then why are you calling me?”

  “I wanted you to read me a bedtime story.”

  Her sigh was audible.

  “Kidding,” I said. “I know why the jewelry store was closed without any cops at the mall. Gene Gene the Dancing Machine was one of the warlock dudes who took Regina in the first place.”

  “And what makes you think that?”

  I told her about the news report. “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think you still need to return the necklace.”

  “We should find out what Gene and Abigail are up to, put a stop to their dastardly plans, and rescue Demetrius.”

  “Are you feeling all right?” Lakesha asked. “You normally want to get baked and sleep in.”

  “Regina won’t let me sleep, and I’m hot for Abigail. Shouldn’t you be happy that I want to do something?”

  “Not when it’s past my bedtime. But as it happens, I’ve been working on a locate spell to find Demetrius.”

  “Are you also working on a spell to cast out Regina before she kills me?”

  “I already figured that one out.”

  “Then let’s get to it.”

  “You said yourself that you’re too lazy to kill yourself. I know how to dislodge her, but you need to do it yourself.”

  “How? I tried singing ’99 Bottles of Beer,’ but only made it to seventy-six before she started singing it repeating die over and over to the tune. Want me to sing it to you?”

  “Want me to cast a spell
to remove your mouth?”

  “How about removing her ability to tell me to kill myself?”

  “Cast her out, Brett. It’s simple magic.”

  “So simple that you failed to help.”

  “Your power level is far greater than mine. You can cast her out whenever you want.”

  “I don’t have the control. Abigail’s an experienced witch. She couldn’t cast Regina out until she had someone to cast her into. That Weston guy was a warlock, and Regina killed his sorry ass on a toilet.”

  “You’re from the Masters family.”

  “So?”

  “You’re a pure blood wizard, Brett. You’re from the original line. There’s no magic you can’t master if you put your mind to it.”

  “Back to that crap? I heard that from my father when I was a kid. ’Son,’ he’d say in his deep booming voice, ‘back in the old days when the Earth was cold and we had to walk to and from school in eight feet of snow, twenty-six miles uphill both ways, people were named for their occupations. People named Baker were bakers. People named Smith were blacksmiths. And we were the Masters, so we are far greater than anyone who’s ever lived or ever will live. Except for you, you lazy little fuck.’”

  “Your father didn’t say that.”

  “Well, not in those actual words, but you know what I mean. Pretentious crap he thought would motivate me, but just made me want to try even less. My dad, in case you hadn’t noticed, is a complete prick.”

  “He pays well, so I don’t share your opinion.”

  “Just get this damn ghost out of me.”

  “Sorry, Brett. You have to do it yourself.”

  And it suddenly dawned on me, why she wouldn’t leave her shop to go to the house when I called, and why she wasn’t helping me now.

  “You called my father, and he told you not to help me.”

  “I’m giving him regular progress reports. Or in your case, non-progress reports.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “He told me how to expel Regina, but I’m not allowed to do it unless your life is in immediate danger.”

  “Wow. And you’re going to go along with that?”

  “I have bills to pay. Business is slow.”

  “Fine. Tell me how to get rid of the ghost.”

  “Your father said not to. He wants you to figure it out.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” I said.

  Die die die! Regina said.

  Shut up, lady.

  I could picture Lakesha rubbing her temples. “Be here at ten in the morning. I should have the location spell worked out by then. I’ll have Cynthia watch the shop while we go hunting witches.”

  “Who’s Cynthia?”

  “My part-time employee. You haven’t met her.”

  “Is she cute?”

  “She’s sixty years old.”

  “Never mind.”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “See you at one.”

  “Ten.”

  “Fine. See you at one-ten.”

  “Why do you hate mornings?”

  “I don’t hate mornings. I like to greet them from the other side. One, two, three. Those are good times. Still hanging at a party, drinking, getting laid, having fun. The later hours of the morning suck balls. People are at work, TV shows are all soap operas or stupid game shows, so I sleep through them. The one time I saw ten in the morning this week, I was getting tortured by an insane tattoo artist. My arm still hurts, by the way, thanks for asking.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Lakesha?” I said.

  I held the phone away from my ear. The call had been dropped. I hit the green circle to call her back.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “The call dropped. Where was I?”

  “The call didn’t drop, Brett. I got bored and hung up on you.”

  “How rude.”

  “And guess what? I’m doing it again right now because it’s bedtime.”

  And she hung up on me again.

  “Witch,” I said.

  Die die die, Regina said.

  I started singing “Bored to Death” by Blink-182.

  Chalk up another win to yours truly because Regina stopped fighting and I fell asleep on the sofa.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sleeping on the sofa was a bad idea. I woke up with a crick in my neck, but worse than that, it was still morning. I checked my phone. Ten minutes to noon. I didn’t even like seeing noon. I had a couple of text messages from Lakesha bitching that I was late. She didn’t really expect me to be there at ten, did she?

  I texted her back: Awake now. Too early. Going back to bed.

  As I moved to the kitchen, I rubbed my aching neck. I opened the refrigerator, and saw a takeout box. I recognized it this time, so I closed the door. My stomach growled. I started opening cabinets. I found a box of Ritz crackers. That would have to do. I pulled a sleeve of crackers out, and started munching away while gazing out the kitchen window at the backyard.

  My phone rang. Lakesha.

  “Hello?” I said around a mouthful of crackers.

  “Don’t you dare go back to bed, Brat. Shower, shave, dress, and come down to the shop. You need to be here inside of an hour. Got it?”

  “That was a lot of words.”

  “Clean up, come to store. Now.”

  I munched a few more crackers. “I’m still half asleep.”

  “Wake your ass up, boy. We have to save Demetrius.”

  That perked me up faster than coffee. “Have you found him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is he?”

  “On the move. Get over here. I can track him, but I’ll need you to amplify my spell.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “I do. Get a move on, Brat. The day’s a-wasting.”

  I went upstairs to shower, and as I climbed the stairs, I called up to Sabrina. No answer. Wow, she must have stayed at Michael’s place the entire night. Maybe they were getting more serious than I realized because he never lets anyone stay at his place, for obvious reasons. There is the occasional girl who thinks coffins are kinky, but the majority, not so much. No big. It was time to get cleaned up, and since she wasn’t home, I could sing in the shower without her judging me for my song choices. Which was great, since I had The Psychedelic Furs song “The Ghost In You” stuck firmly in my head and I’ve never gotten Richard Butler’s voice right.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, I parked in front of Something’s Brewing. When I opened the front door, Isis shot outside before I could stop her. I watched her race across the street and disappear into some bushes. Good riddance.

  I went inside. “Cat’s out,” I said.

  Lakesha came through the beaded curtain. “What did you say?”

  “Your cat. She got outside.”

  “Oh no! We have to get her. She’s not supposed to go out.”

  Lakesha hurried to the door, and took only a moment to glare at me before going out.

  “Sorry,” I said, following her. “She was fast.”

  “Don’t just stand there. Help me find her.”

  I pointed. “She went across the street.”

  “Come on. She’s tough to catch for an old woman like me.”

  “I vote we let her have some outside time. Let her come back when she’s hungry.”

  “She might get run over. People ‘round here speed up when there’s someone or something crossing the street.” Lakesha looked both ways, waited for a car to pass, then trotted across the street. “Isis! Come here, Isis Baby!”

  I sighed. I thought we were hunting a ghost-napping witch, but instead we were hunting a runaway cruel cat. Isis hated me, so I can’t say I was all that excited to try to catch her. Cornering the cat would just get me scratched. I didn’t feel like losing any blood.

  But I trotted across the street anyway.

  “Isis,” I called. “Where are you, demon cat?”

  “She’s not a demon,” Lakesh
a said.

  “Could have fooled me.”

  We went to the bushes. If the cat was under them, I wasn’t going to try to crawl in after her. I shook the top of the bush, hoping the little branches moving beneath it would drive Isis out.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I said.

  “Don’t shake the bush,” Lakesha said. “If she’s under there, you might smack her in the face with a branch.”

  “You wouldn’t care if I got smacked in the face with a branch.”

  “That’s true. Get down and look under there.”

  “Forget that,” I said. “If she’s down there, she’ll scratch me.”

  “Isis, baby, come out,” Lakesha said. She tried to get down to look, and I knew if she got down there, there was no way she’d be able to get back up on her own. I don’t know how much Lakesha weighed, but I didn’t want to have to try to pick her up.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll look.”

  “Thank you, Brett,” Lakesha said.

  Offer to get scratched in the face and you get called by your actual name. I made a note.

  Meanwhile, I got down on one knee, leaned over and peeked under the bush, ready to try to block an attack if necessary.

  It wasn’t necessary.

  Isis wasn’t under the bush.

  I got up and walked to the back of the building, which led into an alley.

  “Isis?” I called. “Here, shitty kitty.”

  Lakesha hit me on the arm. “Be nice to her.”

  “You never tell her to be nice to me.”

  “She’s a cat.”

  “Meaning she can’t be nice? She doesn’t listen? She ignores suggestions she doesn’t like?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which one?”

  “Take your pick.”

  “So, all of the above,” I said and headed down the alley.

  The pavement was broken and cracked. Shards of glass littered the ground, along with dirt, smashed beer cans, crumpled pieces of paper, and other things I didn’t want to examine too closely. I didn’t need to know if the condom by the Dumpster was used or not. I just needed to avoid touching it.

  “Check the Dumpster,” Lakesha said. “She might be after a snack. She tried to bury the can of cat food I opened for her this morning.”

  “She was making a statement,” I said.