Mages in Manhattan

by Phil Gabriel

  Putting the goggles back on, she reached out and picked up a vial. “Grandpa talked about this stuff,” she said. “He said he only worked with it once, said it was the best ink he’d ever seen. Like it could read your thoughts and lay down perfect designs.”

  Dragon’s blood did react to the thoughts of the holder. Right now, I could see the red glow turn to green, indicating greed.

  “So,” I said, “can you fix my ink? And how much do you want to complete the job?” I pulled a wad of Las Vegas cash from my satchel.

  Terri licked her lips as she looked at the container, then down at my arms, calculating how much dragon’s blood it would take to repair the burned-off sections. “I can repair the design using one of these vials,” she said with confidence. “For payment, I’ll just take the rest of the vials.”

  Akiko made a sudden motion behind Terri, shaking her head and making the Japanese crossed hand gesture of negation.

  “No fucking way,” I said. “That’s worth more than half the real estate in Manhattan. It’s cash or nothing.”

  “Nothing, then,” she said, pushing the stack of cash back to my side of the counter. However, she was still clutching the single vial in her hand as if afraid to let go. She removed the goggles so she could look in my eyes while bargaining.

  “Now that I know about the goggles,” I countered, pointing to the gadget sitting on the counter, “I can just pop over to the Apple Store and get a set made up. There are hundreds of artists who can do the work.”

  “Hundreds of artists?” she scoffed. “You’d be lucky to find anyone as good as me. Then you’d have to convince them that magic really exists. Then teach them the design.” She crossed her arms and looked stubborn. “I only started believing after Gramps inked this design on my shoulder. Then I could remember.”

  Ah, that was why Fred had tattooed his granddaughter, the only one who wanted to carry on his legacy. He couldn’t give her the Sight, but he could have her be touched by magic, day after day, making her a believer.

  An artist, a mundane that could believe in magic, that could work with dragon’s blood? Finding another wouldn’t be impossible, just very difficult and time consuming.

  I slowly picked up the cash and put it back in my satchel. I stared at her hand, which still gripped my single vial tightly. “I need that back,” I said.

  “Take it,” she said through gritted teeth, squeezing her hand even tighter.

  “Didn’t your grandfather teach you about trying to steal from a magician?” I asked.

  Still holding my gaze, she said, “No. Why?”

  Pointing to the tiny case, which now had all ten vials back in place, I said, “Because stealing from us is dangerous, nearly impossible.” I flipped the case closed and put it back in my satchel as she slowly opened her hand to reveal that it was empty. “As long as I’m alive, what’s mine is mine. No one can take it away.”

  Nodding to Akiko, I headed towards the door, already thinking about where else I could get this work done. As my hand touched the handle, I heard Terri whisper, “Please. Wait.”

  Turning back, despite a strong look of condemnation from Akiko, I asked, “So you’ll take the cash?”

  Lips trembling, she said, “How about...ten grand and five of those vials?”

  “Surely you can’t be serious,” I said. “How about five grand and no vials?”

  “Don’t call me Shirley,” she said, quoting one of my favorite movies. “Fifteen grand and three vials.”

  Now that we were bargaining, I returned to the counter and put the case of vials and the cash on the countertop.

  “Ten grand and no vials,” I countered. One vial would enable her to create one large design, or five small designs. Was she talented enough to duplicate my designs? The designs inked on her by Fred, glyphs for good luck and health, were good, but nowhere my highest level. They were also almost exhausted. She could give the same designs to others. Did she realize Fred’s designs, executed in dragon’s blood, would be ten times as powerful as her current tattoos?

  “Fifteen grand and ONE vial,” she said with a tight-lipped gesture of finality. Akiko in the background made a weighing gesture, calculating the cost and benefits, then nodded. Glad to see my student was in agreement.

  “Deal,” I said.

  Her mouth open in shock, Terri hesitated a moment, before repeating, “Deal.” Then she asked, “Do you need a contract?”

  “Magicians don’t use contracts, our word is enough,” I said.

  “Your word?” she asked doubtfully.

  I sighed. She really didn’t know about the world she was getting into. “Magicians don’t lie,” I said. At her look of disbelief, I continued, “At least this magician doesn’t lie. Our power is tied up in vows. Breaking a vow, our word, would be very bad.”

  “Still,” she said, picking up the cash and plucking one vial from the case, “to be sure, I’ll just pop these in the safe before starting the work.”

  She turned to her right to kneel at a small safe set into the wall. Covering the dial with her left hand, she manipulated the dial and opened the safe. Once the door opened, I saw several designs on the inside of the safe, protections put there by Fred.

  She closed the door and twisted around on her heels. At the calculating look in her eyes, I commented, “Remember how the vial vanished from your hand?”

  At her nod, I said, “Neither steel nor spell can keep me from getting what is mine.”

  She stood, leaning on the counter, eyes narrowed in thought, and said, “Good thing I have absolutely no intention of cheating you. Right?”

  I watched as she prepared the equipment. The goggles were adjusted for maximum resolution. The needles and the injector were placed in a wire-wrapped plastic tub. It wasn’t until a switch was turned on, creating a low hum, that I realized that this was a homemade degausser, designed to eliminate residual magnetic fields in the steel needles.

  As she checked her equipment again and again, trying to get everything to work, she started to get nervous. “There’s some kind of interference,” she said. “I can’t get the goggles to focus.”

  Interference? The only thing that would interfere with technology would be high energy magic emitters. Like Akiko and me. I could contain my emissions, but Akiko was too powerful. Her emanations were affecting the equipment.

  One look at her and she understood. “OK, Scott-Sensei,” she said, “I’ll go wait outside. You can call me back when you’re done.” With that she vanished.

  “OK,” I said to Terri, “try it now.”

  Donning the goggles, she made some tiny adjustments to the controls, then sighed with relief. “Seems to be working now,” she said, and continued her preparations.

  As she worked, I noted that Terri’s shakes were getting worse, either due to nervousness or tiredness. It wasn’t until she was preparing to transfer the dragon’s blood to the injector that the shakes became severe. I was still by the counter when the precious vial dropped from her trembling fingers and headed towards the floor. Terri’s face froze in a terrified grimace as I pulled at time, slowing the fall of the vial until it hung in the air. Moving across the linoleum floor, careful to avoid sliding, I plucked the vial from the air a scant inch above the floor.

  Standing carefully, because at speed it was too easy to bounce up to the ceiling, I stopped wrestling with time and allowed it to catch up. To Terri, it must have appeared as if I had teleported over and grabbed the vial from midair. She jerked back against the doctor’s exam table she used for her clients.

  Sitting back on the table, her hands shaking even more than before, she stared at the near catastrophe. “Listen, Terri,” I said, “I don’t think you can handle this.” I pointed at her shaking hands, and she abruptly put them under her butt to hide the trembling. “You have a lot of talent, but can’t do the work now.”

  Moving over to stand in front of her, I said, “Let’s change the Deal. I’ll give you the fifteen thousand dollars for the goggles and
your grandfather’s equipment.”

  “And the dragon’s blood?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I’ll have to take that back,” I said. “Still, fifteen thousand dollars for equipment you can’t use is a pretty good price.” Left unspoken was the fact I could get all of her equipment duplicated in a few days.

  “No, no, no,” she insisted. “I really need the dragon’s blood. The money’s not enough. You don’t understand what it’s like to have the luck fade away, your health gets worse and worse.” She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I found a wrinkle this morning!”

  “Yeah,” I said, “the work your grandfather did is running down, kind of like batteries dying. That’s probably why your hands have started shaking.”

  “Listen,” she said, “the needles need to stay inside the degausser another thirty minutes. I’ll drink some herbal tea. That’ll stop the tremors. Then we can do the job.” She looked desperate.

  At my nod, she slid off the exam table and stepped to the rear to turn on an electric kettle. I had a seat on the exam table while she prepared the tea. In a few minutes, she was back, sipping herbal tea.

  The sharp mint smell of the tea cut through the air as Terri looked at me over the steaming cup. Sure enough, the tremors had decreased, but were still noticeable.

  She took another sip, hesitated a moment, then said, “I have another way to stop the tremors. It works much better than the tea.”

  At my raised eyebrow, she set the cup on a nearby table and looked at me appraisingly. “Take your shirt off,” she said.

  Pulling off my short-sleeved shirt and undershirt, I tossed them over the back of a chair. “Are you ready to start now?” I asked.

  She stepped very close, standing between my spread knees. She ran her hands over my arms, stopping to squeeze the biceps, before placing her palms on my chest. “There’s something here,” she murmured, “I can feel it.”

  “That’s my chakra tattoo,” I said. “If you put on the goggles you could see it.” She continued rubbing my chest. When she looked up at me with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, I finally realized what her relaxation technique involved. I put my hands on her hips, just above her pants, touching her bare midriff.

  Terri stepped back, and I thought she was backing away, but she crossed her arms, grabbed the bottom edge of her shirt, and pulled it over her head. Her breasts were taut and her nipples erect. Distracting from her loveliness, a series of designs were inked into her skin.

  She raced over to the door to latch it and turn over the Closed sign before coming back to the exam table. In a moment, she had her pants off, showing that the artwork that adorned her continued uninterrupted.

  She stood so close I could feel her breath on my cheek, then reached down to unbuckle my pants. I helped her by lifting up with my arms to raise my butt off the paper-covered exam table. Terri eagerly slid my pants down and off.

  I had a momentary hesitation and thought about Kitty-Sue, then remembered her comment to Ms. Cappuccetto about leaving me with “blue balls” and stifled the regret. We weren’t a couple, so it wasn’t cheating.

  Magicians don’t lie to others, but we’re experts at lying to ourselves.

  The next few minutes were a frenzy of rubbing, kissing, and sucking. Finally, she was lying on her back on the table, legs spread in welcome. I could smell her excitement as I entered. She hugged me tightly, both with her arms and with herself.

  Putting my hands on a mundane during sex is a strange experience. The healer in me scans and catalogs dispassionately, the magician schemes, and the man in me wants to enjoy mindlessly. If I wasn’t already crazy, it would be schizophrenic.

  The healer found the source of her tremors and wanted to heal, the magician said, “No, you’re low on magic and that’s not part of the Deal,” and the man said, “Shut up and enjoy!”

  Finally, our rhythms culminated, Terri shuddering under me as I finished. A few minutes of nuzzling and hugging as our breathing slowed and I reluctantly rose from my position.

  With the sudden shyness of the recently screwed, Terri turned over and reached into a small cabinet to pull out a towel and a box of antiseptic wipes. She covered herself with the towel as she rose. I cleaned myself and tossed the wipes in a nearby biohazard container.

  When I turned around, Terri was already back in her pants and top. She had to tear her gaze away from my nakedness. “Please put your pants back on,” she said, and busied herself replacing the paper cover on the exam table.

  Dressed again, except for my shirt, I sat back on the table. Terri held her hands up to show me they were steady, with only the tiniest of tremors. “See,” she said with a grin, “I told you I knew how to calm my nerves.”

  A timer bell dinged, indicating the equipment was ready, and she busied herself with her work. “Mmm,” she said, “I think you should lie face down on the table. That’ll let me ink the outline with your skin relaxed.”

  After putting on her goggles, she paused while putting on the gloves. “Oh, you do have a lot of other invisible ink,” she said. “What an intricate design.”

  Like all magicians, I like to keep my secrets, so I didn’t answer, just rolled over and lay as she directed. She started on my left wrist and palm, filling in the lines burned away when I had zapped Jorōgumo. The work went quickly, with her exclaiming, “Gramps was right! This is the best ink I’ve ever worked with.”

  She finished the left arm, and I could feel the pathways opening again. It was like the difference between a straw and a six-inch conduit. I could now channel an immense amount of energy through my tattoos. Even though I currently had a meager supply of magic to use, when fully recharged I would soon be back to ass-kicking status.

  While I was mentally working on the restored tattoo, urging the dragon’s blood to assume the correct pattern (you didn’t think I would show a mundane the real design, did you?), Terri started on my right arm.

  That arm was soon finished, and the flow of power was balanced again. I was just starting on the changes to my right conduit when Terri said, “Just relax there while I get the antiseptic cream and wipe down the work.”

  Relaxing for a minute, I heard her go over to the safe. “Wasn’t the antiseptic cream in the cabinet next to the table?” Before I could raise my head, I felt a sharp pinch in my right triceps, followed by an intense burning pain. The arm instantly went numb.

  Looking back in surprise, I saw Terri with an empty hypodermic in her hand. I mentally clamped down on the blood vessels, slowing the spread of the poison, but it still spread through capillary diffusion. Some kind of neurotoxin. The arm went numb, and I fell off the table to the floor.

  “Sorry, Scott,” said Terri, “I need all the dragon’s blood I can get.” After a thoughtful pause, she continued, “It’s your own fault. You said I had to kill you to get the rest of the dragon’s blood.”

  Twenty-Two

  Magician’s Insurance

  “I didn’t say that,” I shouted.

  “Yes, you did,” said Terri. “‘As long as I live,’ no one can take the dragon’s blood.”

  This is bad, very bad. Poisoned, head spinning, and low on magical energy. “AKIKO!” I shouted, both physically and psychically, hoping that she hadn’t gone too far.

  My student popped in immediately, looked around at the scene, and asked, “What can I do, Scott-Sensei?”

  “Stop the flow of blood in my right arm,” I said, feeling immediate relief as she took over the psychic tourniquet.

  Terri was staring at me, surprised by my shout and continued life. I should have been dead already. “Who’s Akiko?” she muttered.

  With the energy freed up by Akiko taking over the tourniquet, I raised my left hand and sent a blast of Air at Terri, exhausting my reserves.

  She flew off her feet and slammed into the large plate glass window that covered the front of the shop, shattering it. Her flight continued, and she landed at the edge of the sidewalk, surrounded by broken glass. I hoped he
r fucking head was cut off.

  I looked around for the hypodermic to get a sample of the poison, to no avail. It had been blown away along with Terri. “Akiko, I need a sample of the poison. I think she has more in that safe,” I said, pointing to the hiding spot for the safe.

  Akiko zipped over to the safe, humming a strange tune under her breath that culminated in a screech matched by the shriek of shredded steel as the door of the safe was ripped off. Where had she learned that?

  Akiko brought me the unlabeled vial that contained the poison.

  “Akiko-san, listen closely,” I said as she swam in and out of focus. “Concentrate on the poison in this container. It has a unique, unique, unique...color in the magical spectrum.”

  “Hai, Scott-Sensei,” she said. “I see it, sort of pretty ultra-zorf.”

  I had to close my eyes for a few moments to gather strength. “Now look at me with the same vision. Can you see the same color in my body?”

  “Hai,” she said. “It’s brightest in your right arm, but is spreading. What now?”

  “Use Schrödinger’s spell to remove anything that matches that color by translating it to your plane,” I said. I dropped my head in exhaustion, unable to continue. It was all up to Akiko.

  I awoke to intense pain in my arm. Damn, it looked like the cure had not worked. Then I heard the gentle voice of my student. “Scott-Sensei, the poison is gone, and I released the blood flow. It might hurt as feeling is restored.”

  Within five minutes, I was almost recovered, due to an infusion of energy from Akiko’s ring. I checked the safe and extracted two items; then we stepped out into the street.

  What a neighborhood: screams, shattered glass, and shrieking steel, and still no one called the cops.

  Terri was sitting in the middle of a pile of glass, covered in cuts and scratches. But the worst damage was to her right arm. It looked like a large piece of glass had sliced her brachial artery. The fingers of the damaged arm hung lifelessly, indicating severe nerve and tendon damage. I could see where blood had sprayed on the sidewalk in front of her before she had been able to stop the bleeding with her left hand on the wound.