Stranger Magics

by Ash Fitzsimmons

  “The man who came out, what did he look like?” I asked, cutting her off.

  “Him? Maybe a little taller than you, a bit stockier, messy red hair . . .”

  “Robin,” Joey muttered. “Damn it.”

  Mrs. Cooper gave him a sharp look but held her tongue. “Is that your brother?” she asked me.

  “Half brother, actually,” I replied, putting the binoculars back on the windowsill. “And I need to have a little talk with him.”

  Joey gripped my arm as I turned from the window. “Come on, man, don’t do something stupid. They’ve got you outnumbered. Let’s just call the cops and let them—”

  “This is personal,” I said, brushing him off. “They’re in my house.”

  “And it’s still six on two,” he insisted. “You don’t know what sort of weapons they might have. They must have threatened Toula with something. She doesn’t strike me as a pushover, and if she couldn’t get to”—he lowered his voice—“you know, the doohickey . . .”

  “It’s in my fire safe,” I replied. “Hidden in the master closet.” I stared at Mrs. Cooper’s chintz-covered recliner for a moment, mulling over my options, then nodded. “Okay, here’s the plan. Joey, go out to the car and get our bags. You stay here. Mrs. Cooper, will you do me a favor?”

  “Of course, dear,” she said, putting the curtains back to rights.

  “Thank you. I’ve got an antique that I need to hide for a bit while I take care of this mess,” I said, cocking my head toward the window. “Just a little thing. Could you keep it here for me?”

  “Yes, certainly.” She peered at me through her bifocals. “This isn’t anything illegal, is it?”

  I shook my head. “No. A gift from my father, actually.” I waited until the door closed behind Joey, then took her hands and led her to the love seat. “Mrs. Cooper, there’s a lot going on right now that isn’t safe to talk about, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” Her head bobbed, and I continued, “Those people in my house aren’t good people. I’m going to try to get them out of there, but it might take a while. If you don’t hear from me by morning, please call the police. Deal?”

  She tightened her grip on my gloves. “I’d feel so much better if you’d let me call them now, Mr. Leffee.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, but this is one of those things I can’t talk about.” The door slammed open and shut again, and Joey marched into the sitting room with our gear. “All right, Father,” I said, standing to reclaim my bag, “you stay here and keep Mrs. Cooper safe. No buts,” I insisted, seeing his mouth open. I took the sphere from my bag and handed it to my neighbor. “That’s my little antique. Thank you. Father, sit down, and you two call the police if I don’t report back by morning.”

  Joey scowled, then muttered, “Can I speak with you for a minute?” Before I could answer, he dragged me into the laundry room, then whispered, “You’ve lost it, Colin. The odds were bad enough when I was going with you, but six on one? Are you out of your mind?”

  “I’ve got to try—”

  “Bullshit. You’re not Superman, you’re not taking the one functional magical object in your possession with you, and if those guys are anything like their buddies in Ireland, you’re not going to make much headway by yourself. Call the damn cops.”

  I took a deep breath to keep my voice level. “Joey, if I call the cops and they arrest everyone in my apartment, we’re screwed. Toula’s going to be interviewed, Robin’s going to be in a holding cell, and then we’re going to have to find two faeries instead of just one. I don’t like this plan, but I’ve got to try something.”

  He must have seen the desperation in my eyes because he took a step back. “Then let me come with you, at least. My sword’s in the garage. If you can distract them, I can sneak in and get it . . .”

  “Your job is to keep the doohickey safe,” I told him, and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Stay here and keep Mrs. Cooper company. If she offers you tuna salad, just say no.”

  Before he could protest again, I shouldered my bag and stepped out into the night. As I closed the door, I heard her ask, “Father, what is going on?” but I trusted that Joey had slept enough on the journey to come up with a convincing lie.

  I drove my car back around the block and parked in the alley, opting not to fool with the garage. Luggage in tow, I walked into my shop—unsurprisingly, Robin had neglected to lock up—and marched upstairs to my apartment. I could hear voices rising on the other side of the door as I climbed the steps, and as I approached the top, the door was thrown open by a familiar blond. “Welcome home, Ironhand,” he said with a smirk, then grabbed my bag and pulled me into the living room.

  I pushed him off and looked around, doing a quick body count. There was Toula, one ball gag away from a porn movie, looking at me like I’d taken leave of my senses, and there was my welcoming committee, the blond—sporting a fauxhawk, I noted with distaste—and his buddy, a black-haired faerie I’d last tangled with in Phoenix. Jiren was short by fae standards, maybe only five and a half feet tall, but he made up for it in muscle. I hoped he wouldn’t break my nose.

  Before I could decide whether to go for Toula or the boys first, Robin sauntered down the hall with the rest of his entourage. “Coileán!” he said, spreading his hands. “You’re back! Where’s the kid?”

  “School starts tomorrow,” I told him, resisting the urge to drop into a fighting crouch. “And your friends messed up his face pretty badly. I can’t say I blame him for wanting out.”

  Robin grinned. “Smarter than I thought. Where’s the sphere?”

  “I shipped it,” I lied. “Not here. You didn’t think I actually trusted you, did you?”

  His smile soured. “That wasn’t smart at all.”

  “Well, considering the company you kept in my absence, I don’t know if I can agree with you on that.” I pointed to the couch. “Why’s the wizard tied up?”

  “Security,” he shrugged, then glanced at his posse. “Have you met everyone?” he asked, and pointed to them in turn. “Seena and Delilah”—he indicated the blondes to his right—“I think you know Jiren and Aro, and this,” he concluded, clapping a redheaded teen on the shoulder, “is my great-great-add-a-few-grandson, Tony. Tony, say hi to your uncle.”

  The kid barely lifted his chin. “’Sup?”

  “Charmed.” I sighed. “Why are they here?”

  Robin stepped away from the boy and wrapped his arm around my tight shoulders. “We need to have a little talk. Let’s go into the bedroom for a minute and sort some things out, yeah?” He nodded to the others, and they clustered in the living room, keeping silent Toula company as the television flashed a weather report.

  Robin led me back into my room, then closed the door and motioned for me to keep quiet. “I didn’t do it,” he whispered. “They just showed up last night, and one thing sort of led to another.”

  I scowled. “Get them out of here. We’ve got work to do.”

  “See, that’s the issue,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t just tell them to go—I mean, if they knew I was working with you . . . you see the problem?”

  I did—I had beaten all of them but young Tony at some point in the last century—but Robin’s shit-eating grin was doing nothing to help matters. “You outrank them, moron. Tell them you’re working with me at your father’s direction and under protest, and that should let you save face.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he shrugged. “But I was thinking, you know, since they’re here now—why don’t I call the shots for a while? I’ll make sure they don’t hurt you and the witch, we’ll find the other devices—”

  “Right, because Toula looks so pleased with the situation as it stands,” I snapped. “She wants to go to the Arcanum. They’re going to have a tough enough time dealing with me, especially if you’re tagging along. And now you want to try to negotiate with Greg?”

  “Who?”

  “Exactly. At least the grand magus knows and tolerates me.”
<
br />   “There’s no reason we have to go that route,” he began, but before I could counter, we heard a loud rapping at the kitchen door.

  A moment later, Tony cracked the bedroom door open and mumbled, “Someone’s out there, my lord. Want us to handle it?”

  “Who is it?” Robin asked.

  The kid’s slumped shoulders rose and fell. “Some old broad.”

  Robin glanced at me, then at the ceiling. “Moon and stars, I don’t need this right now. Coileán, go get rid of your girlfriend and I’ll let her live, okay?”

  “That’s so very generous of you,” I muttered, and pushed past the boy.

  I found the pack huddled around my dinette, casting suspicious glances at the frosted panes of my kitchen door. “Back off and let me handle this,” I growled, then unlatched the door to find Mrs. Cooper standing on the landing in a bulky pink sweater and coordinating stretch pants, holding a steel teakettle.

  “Oh, Mr. Leffee, I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said, all grandmotherly sweetness, “but a few of my girlfriends are coming over tonight for tea, and my water tastes odd right now—you remember the fish in the main last year, don’t you?—and I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to let me fill up.”

  I stared at her pale gray eyes through her glasses, trying in vain to communicate that now had not suddenly become a good time.

  She winked.

  “Uh . . . sure, help yourself,” I said, stepping aside to clear a path to the kitchen sink. “I think my water’s still good.”

  “Bless you,” she replied, shuffling past me, then looked up and noticed the small crowd watching her in silence. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company! I am so sorry, dear, I’ll just—”

  “No, no, you go right ahead,” I said, ushering her to the sink. “Do you need anything else? Sugar, maybe? I’ve got that fancy colored stuff you like . . .”

  She left the kettle under the spigot and followed me to the pantry closet, then made a show of examining my half-empty shelves. “Where did I put it?” I said, then bent closer to her ear and muttered, “Get out of here, Eunice. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not a good idea.”

  “That’s all right, dear,” she said, “I can do without it. I’ve got petit fours in the fridge, anyway.” She retrieved her kettle and turned off the tap, then smiled at Robin’s minions. “Hello, there. Are you Colin’s friends?”

  They looked at each other uneasily, and I stepped to her side. “My brother’s friends, actually,” I said, pointing to Robin as he walked into the room. “Mrs. Cooper, this is Robin.”

  “So nice to make your acquaintance,” she said, beaming as she extended her free hand toward him. He took it and smiled weakly, but before he could release her, she swung up and slammed the teakettle into his face.

  Robin howled and staggered back, holding his burned cheek, and Mrs. Cooper wheeled on the others. “Who wants a piece of this?” she yelled, holding the kettle at the ready. “Come on, you little hoodlums, who wants to try me?”

  I could only gape as she advanced on the crowd, moving with surprising speed for her age, and began whipping the kettle around like an oversized pocketbook. Robin’s people shrieked at her blows, but I saw stocky Jiren rise and recover. “Mrs. Cooper, eight o’clock!” I cried, just as he grabbed her arm and wrenched her to the ground.

  I yanked open my cutlery drawer and produced a ceramic knife. “Get away from her!” I bellowed, but before I could jump on him, the front door slammed open and a tall, thin figure stepped into the living room, maille gleaming, sword strapped in place, and Desert Eagle outstretched.

  “Freeze, motherfuckers,” Joey snapped, and fired a warning shot at the ceiling.

  Robin’s crew dropped to the ground, and Joey stomped over in a shower of plaster. “All right, anyone who doesn’t want a new piercing should get the hell out of here. Hey!” he yelled, seeing Jiren on top of Mrs. Cooper, “get off her! That’s right, back away, you son of a bitch.” He waited until Jiren had slid against the wall before crouching and offering Mrs. Cooper his hand. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Nothing aspirin won’t cure, dear,” she replied, letting him pull her to her feet.

  Joey beckoned me over with a twitch of his head. “Want the Mag or the blade?”

  “I’ll take the gun,” I replied, and held it on the cowering crowd as Joey unsheathed his weapon. “Now, you heard the nice man,” I said, pointing the barrel at each in turn. “You’ve got one minute to get the hell off of my property before I let Galahad use you as practice dummies. He’s pretty good, I hear.”

  “The fucking best,” he spat. Mrs. Cooper cleared her throat in disapproval, and he mumbled a quick apology.

  “Robin,” I continued, cutting my eyes in his direction, “why don’t you tell your friends to be on their way?”

  “Go,” he croaked, suddenly finding Joey’s sword at his throat by way of encouragement. “I’ll handle this. Go!” he screamed as the blade edged closer.

  The others needed no further encouragement to scramble for the open door. A few seconds later, I heard the last of their footsteps run out of my shop, and then a chorus of engines and squealing tires pierced the night.

  I lowered the handgun and exhaled. “Robin, you stupid bastard,” I muttered, slamming the door. “Joey, cut Toula free. I’ve got the situation under control here.”

  “First time all night,” he replied with a snort, but headed for the living room to free the wizard.

  I took a closer look at the gun in my hand, then at Mrs. Cooper, who stood by with her kettle ready. “Is this yours?”

  She nodded. “Mr. Cooper wanted me to be safe.”

  “Mr. Cooper bought you a .44 Magnum?”

  “He thought it looked impressive,” she explained, and put the kettle on the table. “I hate the recoil on that thing. My real gun’s a Colt .22.”

  “This one seems real enough to me,” I replied, glancing at the blackened hole in my ceiling, and handed the gun back to her. “I, uh . . . I don’t know what Joey told you . . .”

  “The quick-and-dirty version,” she said, giving me a little smile. “That poor girl I found is yours?”

  I nodded. “Surprise, huh?”

  “Messy business,” she said, and headed around the table as Joey led Toula into the room. “I’m so sorry, I should have called the police hours ago . . .”

  “It’s fine, I’m here,” she said, rubbing her chafed wrists. “Uh . . . hi. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it, dear.” She glanced down at Robin, who still crouched against the hallway wall, watching us for signs of attack. “So, what are you going to do with him?”

  Toula glowered as she cracked her fingers. “I’m thinking castration with a rusty knife.”

  “Will ceramic do?” I asked, pulling my improvised weapon from the back of my pants.

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s not the same if it’s not good and dull. Useless faeries,” she muttered, and headed for the bathroom.

  “Relax,” I said, kicking Robin’s foot, “no one’s getting castrated until we get the gate open.” He blinked, and I added, “You try anything this stupid again, and I’ll let Joey shoot your balls off, got it?”

  “Ooh, can I use the Mag?” Joey asked, sheathing his sword.

  “Now, boys,” Mrs. Cooper interrupted, “isn’t this all a little drastic?”

  I gently took her by the shoulders. “Drastic is sometimes the only smart option in these sorts of cases. Did Joey tell you what you were dealing with?”

  “I did,” he confirmed as Mrs. Cooper nodded.

  “You believed him?” I asked her.

  “Well, he’s a priest, isn’t he?” she replied.

  “Mostly.” I gave Joey a look, and he shrugged.

  “Didn’t see the point in getting creative tonight,” he explained. “Since you were off playing Rambo and all.”

  “No, you just let a little old lady attack six faeries with a teakettle.”

  Mrs. Cooper pointedly cleared h
er throat, and I said, “I know, ‘old’ is a relative term.”

  “He’s ancient,” Joey offered.

  “Keep it up,” I muttered, “and you’re never going to see old age, period.” I released Mrs. Cooper and folded my arms. “Got to say I’m impressed with your moves.”

  Her little smile returned. “Played my share of tennis in my day, dear, and I carry these kettles around often enough—I’ve got at least a little muscle left.” She hefted her kettle again and frowned at a new dent in the side.

  “I’ll get you a replacement.”

  “Oh, don’t go to any trouble, it was a Target special.” She put it down and studied my face for a long moment, then said, “You know, I lived on books of myths and legends as a child.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes.” Her lips pursed. “You’re not what I expected, Mr. Leffee.”

  “I’m . . . probably not the most impressive example of the race,” I replied, smiling apologetically.

  “He’s not,” Robin offered, then yelped as Joey kicked him.

  “Surely that’s not priest-like behavior, young man,” Mrs. Cooper clucked.

  Joey’s maille jingled as he shrugged. “Technically, ma’am, I’m still on vacation.”

  Chapter 19

  Having run out of good ideas, we were left with little choice but to head for the Arcanum’s headquarters and hope for the best. I’d have preferred to drive—being confined in an airplane, thousands of feet in the air, surrounded by metal, and hoping the engines don’t get cranky has never been my idea of a good time—but alas, the Arcanum, in its wisdom, had set up shop in an abandoned missile silo in Montana. Time was precious, so as I griped about the many disadvantages of air travel, Joey made the arrangements and suggested that I suck it up.

  Even with the threat of a nine-o’clock flight out of an airport two hours away the next morning, no one cared to sleep. While Robin hid in the bedroom and licked his wounds, Toula sat with Mrs. Cooper at the kitchen table, answering her questions over tea and slightly stale petit fours. As midnight came and bled into Monday, Mrs. Cooper began to lace her tea with gin, but I couldn’t blame her. For a lady dealing with the sudden knowledge that her neighbor was a magically gifted octocentenarian with a long list of enemies, she was being perfectly pleasant.