Mages in Manhattan

by Phil Gabriel

  It took me a moment to remember when I had seen a similar expression. I had watched two sisters grow up. The older was a bossy bitch who took pride in the role of running everything. The two-year gap in their ages allowed her to get away with this for years. However, the growth gods had not blessed them equally. Little sister eventually caught up to and surpassed her older sister. One day, the older sister wanted to watch TV, while younger sister wanted to read. Older sister tried to grab an ear and drag little sister along, just as she had many times before. A quick tussle had the older sister on the floor with younger sister sitting on her back. Despite all her struggles and threats, older sister couldn’t get away. That was the day the power balance changed.

  The look on Beatrice’s face was the same.

  The interaction was over in seconds. Beatrice pursed her lips in thought, but Carol seemed unaware of how the balance of power had changed between them.

  “Well,” said Beatrice quickly, “I don’t like it. He took away my tattoos and piercings, ruined my hairstyle, and didn’t improve my body much at all.”

  I looked back at the 180 pounds of blubber, tissue, and shit that had been removed from Beatrice, then looked at her. I raised one eyebrow at Carol and lifted my hands in a scale gesture, right hand much higher than the left. Carol bit her lip in an attempt to hide a smile.

  “Why,” continued Beatrice, “I could have done the same with a two-week juice cleanse. I don’t know why we had to attack Alicia just so this damn magician could get away.”

  “We both hated Alicia,” stated Carol. “She led the coven in a direction neither of us wanted it to go. She was talking about human sacrifice to increase our powers. We both know if that had gotten out, we would have all hung. The Coven Council doesn’t mess around.”

  This was the first I had heard of this. If they had continued with that plan, the council would have eventually contracted someone like me to take them all out.

  Unless, of course, a certain god-level entity had foreseen this and dropped my friends and me into this mess. She knew that any coven I ran into wouldn’t come out unscathed.

  Another thought about my time with Red Riding Hood: it had been her pillow talk and betrayal that led me directly to confront the Wolves of Wall Street. Taking out their alpha had changed the direction of the firm. While not exactly “kinder and gentler,” the new board of Selene Select would not precipitate an international banking crisis merely to make enough money to bankroll the next President. Better yet, the board now knew that someone like me was capable of taking down the pack.

  A few whispers from the Spirit of Liberty had led us all to this glade.

  Had the delectable Ms. Cappuccetto been a pawn in Jackie’s schemes? Or was she at the level of coconspirator?

  That’s the problem with goddesses and red-headed females; the sex can be great, but there’s always another level to the game you don’t see.

  I felt like a mediocre chess player going up against a master. Looking back on the game, each move had seemed reasonable but had led inevitably to this end game.

  Thirty

  Funeral for a Fiend

  “Do not bother him when he’s like that,” I heard Akiko say as I came out of my reverie. “Let him finish his thoughts.” Akiko and Kitty-Sue were standing between me, the fuming Beatrice, and the worried looking Carol.

  “Fucking magicians,” said Beatrice. “We need to get out of here, and he’s standing there in a daze. Wake his ass up so he can get us out of here!”

  A glance to the east showed the sky starting to lighten towards dawn. I had been lost in thought for almost an hour.

  “So,” I asked conversationally, “just how did you find out about me?”

  “You’ve got a page on Witchimedia—” started Carol, but was immediately shushed by Beatrice.

  It was clear that as long as Beatrice was here, I wouldn’t get a straight answer. Could I live with not knowing for sure? Hell, most of my life has been spent not knowing.

  “Well,” prompted Beatrice, “let’s get going. I’m hungry!”

  “Eat a pinecone, bitch,” I replied. No need to be diplomatic, as her attitude would never change.

  Her face reddened, and I felt energy gather. At a thought, Princess flew to my hand, singing with zeal at the idea of tasting enemy blood.

  The conflict was halted by Carol grabbing Beatrice’s arm. “Don’t worry! The truce still holds. She’s just edgy because we’re hungry,” she said. “Gosh, I’m starving, too! I have an intense craving for a cheeseburger. I haven’t had one in decades. Wonder what it’ll taste like with my new taste buds.”

  Turning her rancor from me to Carol, Beatrice said, “Carol, we’re vegans! We’re not going to start eating meat.”

  At my laugh, they both turned to me. “You can’t tell those lies around a magician,” I said. “I pulled enough partially digested protein from your colon to make a fucking meatloaf!”

  Ah, if looks could kill, Beatrice would be the Queen of the Dead. I had let her cheating on their diet out of the bag. Before another explosion, Carol dragged her away, whispering.

  Looking over the glade, with the remains of a dead werewolf, three witches, a golem of witch fat, and quarts of blood, I realized I couldn’t leave until this toxic site was cleaned up.

  “Carol,” I said, “if you go back to the wolf pack gathering point, there will be a vehicle there for you with the keys on the dashboard. You can use that to get back to burger joints.”

  Beatrice humphed and headed to the edge of the glade. Carol, showing a tiny bit of compassion, asked, “Are you sure you’ll be OK here?”

  Looking at my two friends, the ninja-assassin bodyguard and my unbound ghost former student, I said, “I don’t think we’ll have any problems.”

  Standing impatiently at the edge of the glade, Beatrice said, “I hope you meet up with fucking monsters out here!”

  Looking at her levelly, I replied, “I think I’ve already met my share of monsters in the woods,” and turned away from her.

  After their departure, we spent a few minutes enjoying the silent dawn.

  A few breaths and back to work. I turned to examine Frost’s body, to find Kitty-Sue looking down at it with undisguised greed in her eyes. She reached down and flipped the heavy body over so it was facedown.

  “Kitty-Sue,” I asked, “what are you planning?”

  “Well,” she said, giving me her most innocent expression and hiding her phenomenally sharp blade behind her back, “my auntie would love to receive the tail of a vanquished alpha. I could earn my second tail.”

  “But you didn’t vanquish him,” I said with a puzzled frown. “It shouldn’t count.”

  Giving me a look that said I didn’t know much about kitsune, she said, “No, I tricked you into vanquishing him. For us, that’s better than winning a face-to-face battle.”

  “You know I can’t lie to make you look good?” I asked.

  “Oh, no! Don’t lie,” she said. “Deny, deny, deny. That’ll make it more believable.”

  I nodded my acceptance of her strange rules, and she hacked off the tail. I heard her saying to herself, “My sister will be so jealous!”

  Turning my attention to Akiko, semitransparent in the morning light, I asked, “Akiko-san, are you OK? I know you didn’t like doing that.”

  Face firming up with resolve, she said, “Like? No. But it was necessary.”

  She still looked heartbroken, and I wished I could give her a hug. I had wanted to preserve her innocence for a while longer. “Well,” I said, “if you want to talk about it, I’m always here.”

  “No,” she replied, “it’s OK. I’m on the other side of death. I know there’s an existence after life.”

  At my nod, she continued, “What saddens me is that there should be four ghosts in this glade: the three witches and Frost. Instead, there are none. Frost fought to the end, burning out his life force. The two witches were sucked into Alicia’s spell-work, consumed by her desires. And Alic
ia’s spirit is gone.”

  Not an entirely accurate recounting, since I had been the one to suck every drop of life energy from the vanquished alpha. As long as she didn’t ask me directly, I wouldn’t tell her what had happened before they arrived.

  “What now, boss?” asked Kitty-Sue as she admired the severed tail as long as her arm.

  “We have to clean up this glade,” I said. “We can’t leave all of these bodies out here. Some mundane will eventually find them.”

  Stepping closer, with the knife still in her hand, Kitty-Sue said, “Speaking of cleaning up...” She sniffed in my direction. “I smell witch, wolf, and”—she inhaled deeper— “fancy perfume and a damn redhead!” The knife was now very close to my throat.

  “All part of my fiendishly clever plan to get the pack to bring me to you and Akiko,” I said quickly.

  “You’re not lying,” she muttered, then dropped the blade from my throat. Staring at the knife, she continued, “But you’re not telling the whole truth.”

  “Magicians need to keep some secrets,” I said.

  “Well,” said Kitty-Sue, “you did save our lives. I’ll forgive you...” Suddenly the blade was back at my throat. “This time!”

  “And I’ll forgive you for leaving me alone at the hotel,” I said.

  Then I continued, “We have to clean up this site.”

  Yawning, Kitty-Sue looked at Akiko and me while putting the alpha’s tail away. “Sounds like a job for magicians, not kitsune. I think I’ll take a nap.”

  Examining her, I noted that she was frazzled and appeared exhausted. I had never seen her tired before. Akiko didn’t sleep, and I could stave off drowsiness for days using the energy I had absorbed.

  “OK,” I said, looking around the glade, where almost every inch was covered in blood, dead bodies, or worse. “Where will you take your nap?

  In answer, she transformed into her fox form and scampered up a nearby tree. Looking up, I could just make out her eyes peering down at us through the leaves. The eyes blinked slowly, then pulled back into hiding.

  As Akiko and I prepared the spell that would drop Frost’s body to the center of the Earth, I said, “You know, there’s still a chance their spirits survived.”

  Akiko shook her head. “There’s no way a fragment of a spirit slipped past Kitty-Sue or me. We can sense everything.”

  Just then, the birds in the forest stopped all at once, only to restart in unison. It took a moment to catch the tune: Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.”

  “Everything?” I said. “It seems Euterpe doesn’t agree.” The birdsong chorus randomized back into normal background singing.

  “Maybe there’s a tiny remnant of their spirits left,” I said as I looked around the glade. When I turned back to Akiko, she was wearing a plain white kimono, her hair was up in an elaborate style, and she was barefoot. “I think it would be a good thing to say a prayer for the dead,” I said. Even if the bastards don’t deserve it.

  Akiko stared at my legs until I wondered what was going on. Then, looking down at myself, I saw I was shirtless, and still wearing the pajama bottoms I had been kidnapped in. On top of the unfortunate attire, I was covered with mud and splashes of blood. No wonder Kitty-Sue had hinted about cleaning up.

  “OK,” I said, “I’ll clean up before we continue.” I went to the other end of the glade. Setting my satchel on the downed tree’s trunk, I rummaged through and came up with a washcloth, a pan, and a canteen. Even after filling the pan, the canteen was still three-quarters full. It would always be three-quarters full.

  After a few minutes of ablution, I emptied and returned the pan and canteen to the satchel. The washcloth joined the trash. I reached in and pulled out a new set of clothes: jeans, T-shirt, shirt, socks and hiking boots. Nothing as fancy as Akiko’s kimono, but serviceable.

  Finally ready, we stood over Frost’s mangled body. Akiko looked at me with a “you do this” expression, so I started.

  “Drake Frost,” I said, “former alpha of the Wolves of Wall Street. May your soul reflect on what brought you into conflict and may you learn from those mistakes. If not, may you roast in hell.”

  Practiced gestures shifted his body to the ghost plane; then we let him drop to the center of the Earth.

  We repeated the procedure for the unknown witch with the slashed throat, by necessity leaving out her name. Even the ash-like remains of the second witch were dispatched in the same manner.

  At the sprawled out, corpulent, pant-suited form of Alicia, I had a hard time coming up with words. Looking down at her body lying face down on the ground, two large knife wounds in her back, and one shoe missing, I felt nothing. She had been an evil, cantankerous bureaucrat who had wanted to leash me like a dog and had kidnapped my friends and me.

  Finally, I muttered, “Alicia, I hope the time you spend in hell improves your disposition.” A quick spell and her body was gone.

  Finally, we shifted the remains of Beatrice’s excess fat, skin, and tissue. As the golem dropped from sight, I could have sworn I saw the eyes open. I looked at Akiko, but she said nothing.

  Just my imagination.

  Thirty-One

  New York, New York

  Five days later, we were back in the Ritz-Carlton, where our old rooms were still registered. After re-civilizing ourselves, we headed out to take care of unfinished business.

  The tattoo parlor was much improved. The floor was clean, the instruments were organized, the destroyed safe had been replaced, and there were customers waiting. Terri, wearing the multi-spectral goggles, was bent over a seated female client, working on a good luck charm tattoo, copying the design from an old book. The buzzing of her needles abruptly stopped as she said, “Damn goggles.”

  Looking up, she glimpsed us and saw that Akiko was the source of the interference. She stepped back in fear and placed a hand on her heart.

  “Hello, Terri,” I said mildly. “How’s business?”

  Terri licked her lips and looked guilty. “Fine,” she said as she removed the goggles.

  She had a few more wrinkles, but her gray hair had been colored. Her client was a long-haired blond with familiar features. A quick sniff betrayed the burned almond scent of a witch. I used to enjoy that smell; now it was faintly disgusting.

  “Who’s your friend?” I asked as I tugged my ear to signal Kitty-Sue to set up a privacy bubble.

  “None of your fucking business, asshole,” the blond said as the bubble popped up.

  “That face, that attitude,” I mused, “you must be Carol’s niece, raised by her and Beatrice.” I was met by a look of surprise that confirmed my suspicions.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” said Terri.

  “Neither do I,” I said, pulling her book towards me and looking at the designs. The good luck design she had just completed on the blond was from Terri’s grandfather, Fred.

  “Mmm,” I mused, “this triangle could be moved—” I was cut off by Akiko’s frantic headshake. I had been about to show her how to make the charm ten times more potent. Sometimes, like in the story about the engineer and the guillotine, we magicians could be our own worst enemies.

  “Never mind,” I said, flipping to the back of the book. There were the dangerous designs that I had found on Beatrice. I gathered the pages and ripped them out.

  “Hey, stop!” shouted both Terri and the blond.

  A gesture and a whisper of power flashed the pages to ash. “Ashes to ashes. Stick with the good luck and health designs, Terri.”

  Terri and the blond exchanged a glance that spoke volumes.

  “Oh, Terri,” I said, “did you photocopy those designs?”

  At her involuntary nod, I said, “Didn’t you ever notice that the copy of the design was different from the original?”

  Terri’s face blanked, and she said, “I don’t have any copies.”

  “Only those with magic can create and maintain those designs,” I said. “The entropy gradient for magic is very high, due to...”
I trailed off at her blank look.

  “Never mind,” I said. “If you use those copied designs, I won’t have any problems because they’ll backfire on whomever you use them on.”

  Stepping closer to the blond, I examined her new tattoo. A look revealed the source of a large amount of energy coming from her. “You used the dragon blood ink on this witch?” I asked. “You know that’s worth millions, right?”

  Turning to Terri, I asked, “What could her coven possibly offer to make this worthwhile?”

  Akiko grabbed her chest and pulled out an imaginary dagger.

  “Terri, did they promise you that they could remove the glass in your heart? And maybe restore your youth?”

  Terri maintained her poker face, but Kitty-Sue nodded behind her. Terri could lie to me, but not to a super sensitive kitsune.

  I felt the slightest twinge of a headache. I turned to the blond and saw her concentrating furiously. “Is that you, little witch? Is that your most powerful curse?” I smiled at her like a proud father whose toddler just made potty.

  “What’s your name, honey?” I asked, to be met with nasty looks from both the blond and Kitty-Sue. Oh, yeah, it’s no longer politically correct to refer to females that way. For Kitty-Sue, referring to any female endearingly was a problem.

  “Cocksucker! You should be writhing in pain,” she gasped, “with the worst migraine of your life.”

  “Never mind,” I continued, “I’ll call you Wendy. Now be a good little witch and let the adults talk.”

  A vein throbbed on her forehead, and she opened her mouth to screech, but I plugged it with a gag made of Air. Before she could jump up, Kitty-Sue was between us with a blade in her face. She said, “You know we are the reason your coven has so many new openings, right?”