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

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  “Your twin tricked you,” she said. “He’s avoiding me because he’s afraid, but he left you in his stead.”

  I nodded. “He didn’t seem to be afraid.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it seemed like the thing to say.

  “And yet, he disappeared and left you to face me.”

  I shrugged. “He’s good at that.”

  “The test was designed for him, not for you.”

  “I’m happy to let him take it.”

  “I’d tell you to go away and let him. But part of me thinks, why? You’ve made it this far, and you didn’t even know you were being tested.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. My father was always testing me. It’s just that I normally tried to nap through those tests. I didn’t want to tell her that, though, so I simply shrugged.

  “Your father, my great grandson, chose the other you to take the test. Tell me the truth here, Brett. Why did he choose the other version of you?”

  “I can hazard a guess,” I said. “But to be sure, you’d have to ask my old man.”

  “Very well. Best guess.”

  “My father wants someone he can be proud of, and that’s not me.”

  “Why not?”

  My face burned from the cold wind. My fingers hurt, and I shivered. “We value different things.”

  “What do you value, Brett?”

  “Freedom.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s free, Brett. Even I am bound to tasks I’d rather not undertake. After all, I’m here talking to you.”

  “I’m pretty good at avoiding things I don’t like.”

  “And yet, here you are, fifty feet above the water, utterly helpless.”

  “Are you going to drop me?” I asked.

  “You don’t seem to be afraid in spite of your predicament.”

  “Well, you’re either going to drop me or you’re not.”

  “And you don’t care which?”

  “If the choice is up to me, I’d rather not fall.”

  “Do you love your father?”

  Why did she ask that? I hesitated before I replied. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “Simple question, Brett. Do you love him?”

  I hesitated again. “I don’t know,” I said.

  “How can you not know?”

  “I don’t know what love is.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “Do you like your father?”

  “Hell no,” I said. “He’s an asshole.”

  “Language,” she said.

  “Well, it’s true,” I said. “If saying he’s an asshole means you’re going to drop me, then get it over with, because he really is an asshole.”

  She nodded. “Yes, he is.” She stared at me for a few moments. “Let’s go back.”

  And we were instantly standing on the sidewalk in front of Fisherman’s Wharf.

  “You can swallow that blood now,” she said.

  I did.

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  “What do you want to happen?”

  Was she trying to play my shrink? “I want to wake up and find myself in a nice house with a beautiful woman who adores me, and the knowledge that I never have to see anyone in my family ever again.”

  “Good luck with that,” she said, and disappeared.

  I wished I could travel like that.

  Instead, I pulled out my phone, opened an app, and arranged a ride back to my hotel.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I picked up a bottle of Jameson before the liquor stores closed, and went up to my hotel room. I emptied my pockets onto the dresser and pulled the bottle of whiskey out of the paper bag.

  Two glasses of Jameson later, I was ready to start making phone calls.

  First call.

  “Hello, Brett,” the other Brett said.

  “How the hell are you, Brett?” I asked.

  “Pretty good,” he said. “I was just about to go to bed. I’m reading a wonderful Sherlock Holmes novel right now.”

  “I don’t care what you’re reading,” I said.

  “You’re upset.”

  “You’re a chickenshit little fucktard.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Do you have a mirror nearby?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Look in the mirror.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then you’ll be looking at a chickenshit little fucktard and you’ll know what one is.”

  He sighed. “I should have warned you about Old Woman Masters.”

  “Is that what you call her?”

  “Well, not to her face.”

  “How do you know she’s not listening?”

  “Oh shit. Is she?”

  I laughed. “Not unless she’s using magic.”

  “She could be.”

  “She scares you.”

  “Damn right. She’s been known to snap her fingers and make great wizards implode.”

  “You knew she was coming.”

  “I got a heads up.”

  “From?”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “I’m not giving up my source.”

  “So Gideon texted you,” I said.

  “If you knew, why did you ask?”

  I didn’t know until he just confirmed it. What a dumbass. “To see what you’d say.”

  “You’re catching me off guard, Brett,” he said. “I need time to frame the narrative.”

  “You might not want to tell me things like that.”

  “That’s right. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “One of us is real, the other is fake. Right?”

  “I’m the real one.”

  I sighed. “So you keep saying.”

  “Father told me I’m the real one.”

  “Of course he did. You’ve been behind most of my troubles since I got back.”

  “Troubles? I’ve been trying to help you out.”

  “I sense some panic in your voice,” I said.

  “That’s ludicrous.”

  “You sent me into harm’s way, you lame-assed little bastard. I may have to go over to your place and beat you over the head with a big stick.”

  “You wouldn’t resort to violence.”

  “Under normal circumstances, you’d be right, but I’ve had a few drinks, and you’ve been trying to get me killed, so I’m about ready to open up a can of whoop-ass on you.”

  “My house is fortified with magic.”

  “You think your magic will work to keep me out?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “We’re the same, right?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Your magic has to let you pass through, so it recognizes you.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Since we’re essentially the same, don’t you think it would think I’m you and just let me pass through safely?”

  “Uh,” he said. “I don’t know.”

  “Who are you talking to?” a familiar voice asked from somewhere in the other Brett’s place. It took me a moment, but I recognized Gideon.

  “My twin,” Brett answered.

  “Hang up.”

  “But—”

  The line went dead.

  I nodded. It made sense. Of course Gideon was with my twin. He worked for him. He’d warned him about the Matriarch’s arrival. He’d also put me directly in the path of assassins enough that he must have been involved on that end of things, too. Or at least knew about it.

  He’d warned me about some of it.

  I liked him. He could have let me die in the limo when we were getting attacked, but he drove us out of the way.

  Was he playing me?

  He had to be, right? I mean, he worked for my twin.

  And my twin was trying to please my father.

  It was time to get to the bottom of this shit pile.

  I set my phone aside and grabbed Rhonda’s phone from the dresse
r where I’d left it. The battery was down to about a third, but that was plenty. What was her code? I typed in four fives. Wrong. Shit. Four sevens unlocked the phone and I scrolled through her contacts until I found Nathaniel Masters. I pressed his name.

  I put it on speaker and listened to my father’s phone ring.

  Second call.

  “Hello, Brett,” Dad said without even a hello.

  “You knew it was me?”

  “The Ringo fools reported in, so of course I knew it was you.”

  “What kind of game are you playing?”

  “Your mother and I are just leaving the opera. She’s powdering her nose.”

  “She still says that?”

  “Indeed she does. I’ve been expecting your call. To be honest, I thought you’d call sooner.”

  “I decided to take a nap instead.”

  “How was Fiji?”

  “Why did you change your number?”

  “So you couldn’t reach me so easily. I trust the beaches were lovely.”

  “The women, too,” I said.

  “They always are.”

  “Back to my original question. What game are you playing here?”

  “I’m in New York right now, Brett. And I told you, we just left the opera. We’ll be going back to our apartment, then your mother wants to spend the day at the museum tomorrow.”

  I wasn’t aware of his New York apartment, but it didn’t surprise me. He has houses and apartments all over the world. He normally spends his time in New Orleans, but it wasn’t unusual for him to spend a weekend in the Big Apple.

  “I’m thrilled for you, Dad. You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I heard from my great-grandmother earlier.”

  “Ah, yes, the Matriarch. Me, too.”

  “So she said.”

  “Do I call her Granny?”

  “Do you want her to melt your face off?”

  “Not especially.”

  “Mrs. Masters will be sufficient then.”

  “Does she have a first name?”

  “Of course.”

  “Care to share?”

  “You could look it up, Brett.”

  “You could save me the trouble, Dad.”

  “Fine. Her name is Catherine.”

  “How much more testing are you going to do?”

  “I’m not testing you.”

  “Is Catherine?”

  “You shouldn’t call her that.”

  “Fine. Is Mrs. Masters testing me?”

  “You aren’t supposed to be the test subject, Brett. Your replacement is. You’re supposed to still be in Fiji, but I guess paradise bores you, too.”

  “People are trying to kill me, Dad.”

  “You seem to be ahead of the curve so far. If you go back to Fiji, the other Brett will finish up the testing process, and if he survives, he’ll be accorded the full title of wizard by the Magic Council, and he’ll sign the accord.”

  “What about me?”

  “You won’t.”

  “Come on, Dad. What gives?”

  “Brett, you don’t have the requisite skills to pass the test. I gave you plenty of time, but you wanted to nap your life away. Hell, you wrote a song about it.”

  “So I’m the original.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You sound like you’re agreeing when you don’t really believe it.”

  “Do I?”

  “Let me rephrase. Am I the original?”

  “Does it matter?” he asked.

  “Yeah, it kinda does.”

  “Then you and your twin can figure it out. I’d recommend you simply leave Galveston tonight. Head over to Houston. Grab a plane first thing in the morning. Go to Switzerland. Do some skiing. Or go to Italy, and rent a villa in Tuscany. Too many words there, Brett? Are you still with me?”

  “Why leave tonight?”

  “Because it’s your last chance. I honestly don’t care what happens, but if you remain in Galveston, when this ends tomorrow night, there will be only one Brett Masters. I can’t have two of you vying for the wizard title and an inherited seat on the Council.”

  “So you’re really dying?”

  He laughed. “We’re all dying, Brett. One day at a time.”

  “The other me said you were sick. Brain cancer. Six months to live.”

  “I’m sick of your bullshit, Brett. I’m not sick. And I see your mother is coming through the crowd. Lose this number. I won’t answer for you again.”

  “Even if I survive tomorrow?”

  “You won’t be the one who lives, Brett. Go on and leave town while you can. I’ll toss a million bucks in your account and you can live off the interest. That plus whatever your stupid song is bringing in should get you through just fine.”

  “Tell mother I love her,” I said.

  He laughed.

  “I’m serious, Dad.”

  “The other you is her son now, kid. Get lost.”

  And the line went dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  When I tossed Rhonda’s phone onto the dresser, it slid and knocked Gideon’s golden ring onto the floor. I bent and picked it up. It felt warm to the touch.

  I examined it. The entire ring was gold, of course, and while there were markings on the side, they didn’t mean anything. They were simply lines. The top was smooth, but had a ridge around the edge.

  With a thumbnail, I hooked the bottom of the ridge and lifted. The top of the ring popped open.

  I sighed. This was some Dick Tracy shit.

  Inside the top of the ring was a small device. I tipped the ring to dump the tracker into my palm. I stared at it. Was it also a bug? Hell, there was blood magic involved, and it had my blood to power it, so it could easily be a bug as well as a tracker.

  Sneaky little bastard. All that shit about ninety-four feet was mostly to throw me off. He wanted me to have the ring so he could keep track of me.

  Or was it so the bad guys could keep track of me? Except that I didn’t keep the ring with me.

  But Gideon was either there, or he was close enough to know where I was whenever people showed up to attack me, so he didn’t need to track me there. But he could have had the Ringo Twins zero in on it to find my room in Austin.

  I slipped the device back into the Dick Tracy ring and set it on the dresser beside the phone.

  If it was a tracker, they could trace to me here in Galveston, too. I didn’t want it near me. But I didn’t want to tip Gideon off that I knew about it. And I really had liked him, too. Now I wondered if his story about the voodoo doll was bullshit. He could have been reeling me in. And the Tarot tattoo warned me to be wary of him. Stupid cards could have been more clear.

  But I guess it’s not like they would have a card that said, “Don’t trust Gideon.” So telling me to be wary was pretty much the same thing. Maybe I should pay more attention to them.

  I looked at the tattoo. I thought a question at it. I meant to ask if I should leave, but a more powerful thought overtook it. What should I do? I shook my arm and the Tarot card shifted to the Chariot. I frowned.

  I could take that as move forward, of course, because a chariot is used to travel. I could also take it as building combined powers. Like I’d want to combine anything with Gideon. Unless it meant something more. Gideon had other rings. How many of them drank of my blood?

  “Shit,” I said. For all I knew, he could work me over with some serious shit. He could have the other rings call bad guys whenever I’m nearby.

  But he helped me get away.

  Maybe he didn’t want me to die, but if the Council’s attackers did manage to kill me, it wouldn’t be a big deal because the other Brett would still be all right.

  I didn’t know.

  The Chariot card had other meanings, too. It was about life and balance.

  My questions about leaving and about what I should do could be simplified with the obvious answer of changing locations.

  I hated the damn Tarot. Answers only
fit after you knew what happened. Confirmation bias in action.

  According to my old man, this would all be over tomorrow night. Tonight I needed to sleep. And if the ring was a tracker, I needed to put some distance between us.

  I grabbed my phone, shoved it in my pocket, and gathered up a few things to stuff in my overnight bag. I left my bigger suitcase in the room.

  It was time to relocate.

  I slipped out of the room, took the stairs to the ground level, and ducked out a side door into the night.

  A few blocks away, I called an Uber to get a ride to another hotel several miles away.

  I checked into a new room.

  Without the ring near me, I would be off the radar.

  That night, I slept well.

  It was about time something went right.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I woke up at noon, and looked at the clock. “Too early,” I said, and went back to sleep.

  I woke up at one, and looked at the clock.

  “Still too early.”

  And at two.

  “Oh, all right,” I said, and rolled out of bed. I staggered into the bathroom, took a piss, and made the mistake of looking at myself in the mirror before I’d had coffee.

  The coffee I made after that wasn’t very good, but it helped to wake me up. A shower took care of the rest.

  Finally, I checked my phone. Six text messages.

  One was from Gideon.

  Meet me in the parking lot of Moody Gardens in front of the blue pyramid—11:00 pm.

  The other texts were from the other me.

  Are you awake? This is Brett. The real Brett.

  Sabrina says you like to sleep in.

  Where the hell are you?

  Call me.

  WTF?

  I also had five missed calls, all from the other me.

  I clicked the ringer on, but didn’t bother to return any of the texts or calls. Instead, I got dressed, and went to lunch at a place called Miller’s Seawall Grill.

  The fried shrimp was delicious. As I ate, I realized it might be my last meal. If so, I had no regrets.

  After the meal, I walked across the street to the beach. I kicked off my shoes and waded into the Gulf. As the waves rolled in, the sand shifted under my feet. It seemed my life had been shifting the same way since I’d returned to Galveston.

  A seagull soared over the water, and I wished I could be that free. The bird arced around, then dove and snagged a fish from the sea.