by Phil Gabriel
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” asked Kitty-Sue.
“Magicians aren’t very trusting,” I replied. “What I’ve told you would be enough information to get me kidnapped or killed.”
Looking at me appraisingly, she said, “I think you might have a few more tricks I don’t know about.”
I just smiled at her.
She looked in my eyes, smiled, and said, “But I’m happy you trusted me with these secrets.”
“You’re my bodyguard,” I said. “You needed to know this.”
“So, I have to protect you from witches, werewolves, and any other New York beasties who want to skin your underpowered hide,” she said. Then continued, “I wish I had known about this before.”
“So you could have made a better Deal?” I asked.
“No, so I could have brought more knives,” she said with a predatory smile that warmed my heart.
Fifteen
Don’t Heal Me I’m Only the Piano Player
As I was finishing my coffee, I noticed Victoria outside the kitsune bubble. She had a cell phone to her ear and was looking all around the clubroom, as if searching for someone. I motioned to Kitty-Sue to drop the bubble.
“...I don’t see them here anywhere...” Her voice trailed off as we appeared. She blinked rapidly and rubbed her eyes with her forefinger and thumb. Then she said into the phone, “Yes, boss. They’re here. I’ll bring them right up.”
She took a few steps to our table and said, “Jason asked me to accompany you up to the VIP suite on the penthouse floor.”
Nodding to Akiko and Kitty-Sue to accompany me, I rose from the table. I scooped up the remaining cash, peeled off another hundred-dollar bill, and handed it to our server. “Thanks for the great service. I’m sure we’ll see you again.”
I picked up Princess and we exited the VIP room and headed towards the elevators, only to meet Jason waiting impatiently. “Thanks, Victoria,” he said, “I’ll take it from here.”
Entering the elevator with Jason, I looked at the control panel. It had the normal buttons, as well as a card reader. Asking for my card, Jason swiped it in the card reader and hit the penthouse button.
“When the card is swiped, the elevator goes directly to the penthouse level,” explained Jason.
As the elevator rose smoothly, Jason looked us over. A casually dressed guy with frosted hair and a youthful barefoot Japanese party girl. He bit his lip and said, “My wife is not really a believer. She tried a hypnotist for the pain, but that didn’t work out. If I tell her I’m going to let a magician examine her, she’ll probably walk out. What should I tell her?”
“I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Kitty-Sue, could you use a glamour to make yourself look more mature?” At her nod, I continued, “How about a doctor’s lab coat and those white shoes?”
A moment of shimmering translucence over her form and Kitty-Sue was transformed. She looked like a fortyish professional woman in a severe business suit with a white lab coat over. Hell, she had even added fake glasses.
“Dr. Kitsune, I presume,” I said. Kitty-Sue just smiled slightly, staying in character. Hell, she even smelled different.
“Here’s the story,” I said. “Dr. Kitsune is visiting here to give a demo of her advanced acupuncture techniques to the Desert Springs Hospital. You met us in the lounge, heard about her fame, and asked us to examine your wife. I will be the doctor’s official translator.”
Jason nodded his acceptance, still stunned by the transformation in Kitty-Sue, and we exited the elevator.
As we walked down the hallway, I asked Kitty-Sue, “Please speak only Japanese to our patient. I’ll cover any medical jargon we need to use.”
Reaching deep into my invisible satchel, I pulled out an item I’d thought I would never need again. It was a standard leather doctor’s case in pristine condition. Of course, inside the satchel time passed slowly, so the case had not aged. Jason’s mouth was agape in wonder. To him the case had appeared out of nowhere.
Case in one hand, Princess in the other, I had to rely on Jason to open the door to the suite. We entered, and it was my turn to drop my mouth in surprise. The place was huge. The entrance was to a large sitting room with a marble floor. On one side was a fireplace, not normally seen in Las Vegas. There was a flame in the fireplace, warming the immediate area. On the other side of the room was a grand piano sitting in front of large windows that overlooked the Strip. Through doors on the side of the room, I could see a couple of bedrooms and what looked like a kitchen.
Close to the fireplace was a sectional sofa with a woman seated on it. She had her hands held out close to the fire. As we entered, she rose from the sofa with some difficulty, as she did not use her gloved hands to assist. The gloves were also very strange for Las Vegas.
She had a warm smile and brown shoulder-length hair with the slightest touch of gray, and was dressed in a black pantsuit outfit with a white blouse.
“Hello,” I said. “This is Dr. Kitsune.” Kitty-Sue took a short bow of introduction. “I’m Scott Freeman, her translator. The doctor is very happy to meet you.”
Noting the condition of her hands, I did not offer to shake.
“I’m very happy to meet you,” she said. “I’m Monica.”
As I set the case down, I took a quick look at her aura. Signs of advanced inflammatory arthritis were in her hands and, to a lesser degree, her feet and knees. I would need a more thorough examination to nail down the cause.
Kitty-Sue asked a quick series of questions in Japanese, which I used as a basis for my own queries.
“The doctor would like you to disrobe for the examination. You can use the bathroom and wear one of the hotel’s robes.” Stepping closer, I said, “The doctor said we can ask your husband to leave if you’re embarrassed.”
“No,” she said, “it’s fine. Jason can stay.” Stepping towards the bathroom, she said, “I-I might need help with the clothes.”
I noticed for the first time that the buttons on her jacket and pants were fakes; she had had her clothes tailored to use Velcro strips. Her hands caused so much pain that even those modifications weren’t enough to avoid pain when dressing. I was ready to volunteer, but Jason stepped up and said he would assist her.
A few minutes later, she came back out dressed in a hotel robe. I had brought a kitchen stool out into the main room for her to use. As she walked towards the stool, her hand bumped against the door frame. A sharp gasp of breath and she stopped and closed her eyes. Tears trickled from under her eyelids. I saw Akiko ready a spell to block the pain, but I stopped her with a shake of my head.
“Have a seat here,” I said. “The doctor can block the pain for the exam.” As soon as Kitty-Sue was behind her, I pulled the collar of her robe down, preparing a pain-blocking spell. Kitty-Sue moved faster than I could see, and what appeared to be two simple taps near Monica’s neck resulted in a relaxation of her arms as nerve impulses were blocked. “Don’t try to use your arms right now, they will feel very heavy,” I said.
Monica took a deep breath, sighed, and said, “The pain’s gone!”
Kitty-Sue was speaking Japanese, which Akiko translated for me. “It’s only temporary. The pain will soon return.” I looked at Kitty-Sue with a new respect; my ninja assassin was capable of much more than killing.
“OK,” I said to Monica, “the doctor will examine your hands now.” While Kitty-Sue peeled off her gloves and manipulated her damaged fingers, I performed a full-spectrum scan of Monica’s body. Although it was centered in her hands, she had the signs of inflammatory arthritis in other joints as well.
Inflammatory arthritis is an autoimmune disorder, one part of the body attacking another. One of my teachers blamed this kind of damage on unbalanced Chi flows. I saw it as a war on the cellular level. The end result was the same: destroyed joints, inflammation, and pain.
Could I cure it? No, the propensity for it to flare up was hereditary. I couldn’t change her genes. I motioned for Jason to join
me in the other room. “Hey, Monica,” I said, “while the doctor finishes her examination, I have to talk with Jason about your insurance.”
Jason followed me into the kitchen, closing the door. I leaned against the counter and regarded him. Akiko ghosted in through the door. I raised an eyebrow at Akiko, wanting her impression of the diagnosis. “I don’t know if I can help, Scott-Sensei. The damage is severe; healing would take a lot of energy.”
Jason waited patiently while I gathered my thoughts. I needed to manage his expectations. “The bad news is that her arthritis is caused by hereditary factors. I can’t change those.”
“So, you can’t help her?” he asked, a look of crushed hopes on his face.
“That’s the bad news,” I said. “The good news is that I can help her by repairing the damage. But it will come back. She might get ten years of pain-free life out of the treatment, then the inflammation will slowly return.”
“Is there anyone who could provide a permanent cure?” he asked.
I thought of dragons, djinn, and other demigod-level entities that could do that, and the price they would want. “Jason,” I said, “there are others out there. They will ignore your pleas. If they do respond, the price would be much more than you could afford to pay.”
“And how much are you asking?” said Jason. “The witches’ coven took everything in my 401K and all they provided was temporary relief.”
“What did the coven do?” I asked, looking at Akiko. She took my hint and ghosted through the door to examine Monica for the remnants of witch magic.
“They had a ‘Cleansing Ceremony,’ then wrapped her hands in tight bandages drenched in some stinky cream. She was very happy that the pain stopped, but after a week, it came back.”
Witches. I hated those bitches. “Did her mobility improve?”
“No,” said Jason. “Her hands were still damaged, but the pain was gone.”
Akiko ghosted back through the door and said, “She has broken pain-blocking spell, and, ummm, hook?”—she nodded to herself at the word choice— “for to curse her in future.” Akiko’s eyes blazed. “Who would do that to another person?”
“Witches,” I said in answer to both Jason and Akiko. “They’ll lie, cheat, and steal to get power.”
“OK,” said Jason, “for ten years of pain-free remission, what are you asking?” Straight to bargaining.
“What can you offer?” I asked.
Jason ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t have any cash left. I suppose I could sell the house.” He looked at me sharply. “You can’t be asking me to embezzle from the casino?”
“No, Jason,” I said. “Do I look like a guy that needs money? What else do you have?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “What do you want? Will I have to sell my soul?”
“Close,” I said. “I’m asking for ten years of your life.”
Jason had a bit of trouble processing that. “So, you want me to be your slave? Prisoner? For ten years?”
Akiko seemed ready to step in, but I shook my head before she could speak. “Not a slave. I’m asking for ten years’ worth of your life force.”
“Life force?” he asked. “Are you like a goddamn vampire?”
I considered his question for a moment. “No,” I said, shaking my head, “vampires take blood and life energy by force. I kill them when I can. Magicians make bargains.”
I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a Coke. At my silent offer of a can, Jason refused. Popping the tab, I said, “Remember, a lot of the energy I take will be used for the healing.”
“Do I have any choice?” he muttered, looking down at his shoes in defeat. “OK, I can give you ten—”
Akiko gave me an admonishing glare and I interrupted Jason. “Whoa, whoa,” I said, “we’re still bargaining.”
“What does that mean?” asked Jason.
“Don’t jump at the first offer,” I said. “I thought you were a businessman? Make a counteroffer!”
“The witches didn’t want to bargain,” he said. “They took everything I had. Besides, what can I counter with?”
Damn, I hate bargaining against myself. “Offer fewer years to start. Then try to add some intangibles. Things you can offer that are not cash.”
“OK,” said Jason slowly, “I can offer seven...” At my headshake, he corrected himself, “Three years. Plus, I don’t know, VIP memberships to our facilities.”
Akiko pursed her lips in thought and brought her hands up in a weighing gesture, then shook her head. Three years wasn’t enough energy to heal Monica.
“Five years,” I responded, “plus permanent VIP passes for, say, five of my team. Free backstage passes for the big shows.”
Jason looked in my eyes to see if he should counteroffer, but at the slight shake of my head, said, “I think I can live with that.” He started rolling up the sleeve of his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Don’t you need to take blood?” he asked.
“Hell, no,” I said, “it doesn’t work like that.” Shaking my head, I said, “Don’t ever offer blood to anyone. It leaves you open to bad things.”
“So how does this work?” he asked as he rolled his sleeve back down, obviously relieved he didn’t have to give any blood.
“Once you agree,” I said, “we take five years of your life energy. You will age by five years. If anyone notices the extra gray hair, blame it on stress. We’ll use the energy to heal your wife’s arthritis.”
“If it doesn’t work,” he said, “do I just lose the five years?”
“Magicians don’t break Deals,” I said. “If I can’t do it, you get your five years back.”
“If I want to change my mind later?” he asked.
“Jason,” I said, “stop thinking like a lawyer. I don’t use loopholes, or tricky language, or any slimy tricks. The Deal is five years of your life energy, plus five sets of VIP passes, plus backstage passes to your shows, for as long as you work here. In exchange, we will heal your wife’s damaged hands and any other minor damage. It won’t reoccur for at least ten years.”
I looked over at Akiko, who nodded her understanding of the Deal. She said, in a voice only I could hear, “What about the witches’ curse?”
“We’ll also repair any damage the witches’ coven might have left from the last cure,” I said, addressing both of them.
“OK,” said Jason. “I don’t have a choice. I’ll take the Deal.”
“No, Jason,” I said flatly, “you have a choice. You can’t accept the offer, then say ‘I didn’t have a choice.’” I took another drink of the Coke. “You have to commit one hundred percent to the Deal. If you’re not convinced, I can recommend some local practitioners; you can go to a specialist, or you can leave her as she is. Hell, I’ll even leave the partial nerve block so the pain isn’t so bad.” He was having last-minute remorse. I felt sorry for Monica, but he needed to make up his mind. I should have taken his first offer; now he was trying to talk himself out of the Deal.
“Can anyone else restore her hands?” asked Jason, confirming my suspicion that he was rethinking the Deal. Oh well, it’s not like I had any interest in Monica.
“I’ll email you a list,” I said, standing and heading towards the door. As I passed him, I pulled off the VIP pass and handed it to him.
Entering the main room, I saw that Kitty-Sue had Monica sitting on the couch. Monica was slowly rubbing her hands together while saying, “It’s like when your leg falls asleep. It’s great the pain’s gone, but I feel so clumsy.” She stared at the piano with a look of longing.
“Dr. Kitsune,” I said, “their insurance won’t cover any treatments. So, we can’t do any more for her today. And we really have to go to our next appointment.”
Continuing towards the door, I said, “Monica, it was very nice meeting you. I’m going to forward some other providers to Jason.”
I grabbed the doctor’s bag and Princess and hea
ded towards the door. I was almost to the door, reaching for the knob, when I heard Monica whisper, “Will the pain come back?” at the same time Jason said, “Wait!”
I turned around, expecting Akiko and Kitty-Sue to be right behind me. They were both standing with the same arms-crossed posture, unwilling to leave Monica. Oh crap, a supernatural rebellion.
Kitty-Sue let loose with a flood of Japanese, much too fast for me to understand, but the gist was that I couldn’t leave her like this. Akiko nodded in agreement with everything she said.
“Wait,” repeated Jason, “I’m sure we can work this out. If you’ll accept a payment plan. I’ll accept the Deal”—he nodded sharply— “and guarantee coverage for the procedure.”
“Monica,” I said, “Dr. Kitsune says that your case is very interesting, so she would like to treat you. Now that Jason has agreed to the payment plan, do you want to try her treatment?” She had to agree too; otherwise, we couldn’t work on her.
“I’ll try anything to stop the pain,” she said.
“OK,” I said, “lie down on the couch. Dr. Kitsune’s treatment is an advanced form of acupuncture.” At this, Kitty-Sue raised an eyebrow. Her preferred form of acupuncture was sticking knives in enemies. I just smiled at her.
A few minutes of set up and Monica was laid out on the couch, propped up on some pillows brought from the bedroom. A quick somnolence spell had Monica yawning and her eyes closing. It’s a handy spell. Unfortunately, it only works on people who trust you, kind of like a super-powered lullaby.
Once she was out, I motioned Jason over to the couch. Placing both hands on his chest, I drew life energy from him, filling my reservoir to overflowing. Jason staggered backwards, exhausted by the rapid aging. His hair gained more gray and more wrinkles appeared around his eyes. He sat down heavily on a chair.
I raised an eyebrow at Kitty-Sue and said, “Bubble.” She understood instantly and erected a kitsune bubble around us. Outside the bubble, Jason seemed to lose interest in the procedure. What I was about to do to his wife might upset him.
