Gambit: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Solumancer Cycle Book 1)

by J. C. Staudt

  “That includes him getting rid of a dead person, and you never hearing about it again.”

  I run shaky fingers through my hair. “This is getting more and more like a bad dream I’ll never wake up from.”

  Quim glances at Felita.

  “Don’t look at me,” she says. “I’ve got maybe three thousand dollars. Maybe. If I’ve gone to the steakhouse fewer times this month than I think I have.” She licks her lips and sighs. “I love cow.”

  “I don’t need your money, Felita. There’s another way. Once Ersatz is done with the belt, I’ll go to SladeBanc and take the money from Arden’s bank account.”

  “You’re going to rob a dead guy?”

  “I’m going to let him pay his own funeral expenses.”

  “If you’re planning to withdraw ten thousand dollars in cash,” says Quim, “you should know the bank will be required to file a Suspicious Activity Report with the federal government. You’ll be flagged for potential criminal activity.”

  “Forget that idea.”

  “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea. Just giving you fair warning. You should be fine as long as you have a good cover story. Tell them you’re investing in gold, or buying a car from a private owner. They may still look into it, but you’ll be safer if it looks legit.”

  I raise my beer. “Here’s to not going to prison.”

  Felita drives me to her place, where we find Ersatz curled up on the couch, fast asleep. The spellvault belt is sitting where I left it on the dining room table, the Book of Mysteries open to the same page. For a minute I assume Ersatz has been slacking off. When I pick up the belt, though, something happens. A tingle in my hands, gone in an instant.

  “Put it on,” Ersatz urges with a yawn.

  I slide the belt through my belt loops and fasten the buckle. “How do I look?”

  “The same,” says Felita.

  I look at Ersatz. “Did you even—”

  Pain knifes up my spine. My broken nose cracks into place, and the scratches and bite marks across my arms close up and smooth over. Even the bruises on my knuckles soften and clear. My chest heaves, my shoulders widen, and the whole room shifts downward. I’m still in pain where my injuries should be, only there’s nothing but unbroken skin where they once were. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I stumble and catch myself on a chair.

  “Okay,” says Felita. “Now you look different.”

  I lurch toward the hall mirror. I feel my face, tug at my nostrils, pinch my cheek. I’m Arden Savage. I’m him, and not even the slightest bit me anymore. “Brilliant. It’s perfect.” When I speak, my voice sounds different.

  “I thought you’d be pleased,” says Ersatz. “Aside from the Book of Mysteries, that belt is now your most important asset. Congratulations. You’re someone else.”

  It’s strange being two inches shorter, viewing the world from a different altitude. It feels good, though, knowing I can be Arden without worrying whether someone will see through the illusion. I’m the real deal now. And if the real Arden Savage wants to see his former self buried, he’s going to need some cold hard cash.

  Chapter 22

  Felita brings me to Arden’s apartment so I can pick up his hearse and drive it back to her place. I’ve got Arden’s wallet in my pants pocket, his Glock 19 strapped to my ribcage in his shoulder holster, and his cell phone on the passenger seat beside me. I’ve stolen another man’s identity, and I’m surprised at how comfortable it feels.

  Levi Green doesn’t recognize me coming and going through the lobby. Though I’d like to say hello to my old friend, I realize it’s the first of many sacrifices I’ll have to make. Until I find out who these Disciples are, and what they want with Cade Cadigan, I’m staying Arden.

  The odor in Felita’s apartment is strengthening. I’m no expert on the biological processes involved in decomposition, but it’s clear the last several days haven’t been easy on our friend Mr. Savage. When I consider the alternative—a very poltergeist-possessed bounty hunter—I count my blessings.

  “Is there anything we can do about the smell?” I ask Ersatz.

  “I believe there’s a preservation spell somewhere in the grimoire,” he says sleepily. “It won’t take away the smell, but it should slow the body’s decay for a time.”

  I find the spell and cast it while Felita grabs a gigantic suitcase from her bedroom. She lays it open on the rug beside the body. “Help me with this.”

  “It’s okay, I can just turn him invisible.”

  “And what are you going to do when his invisible arm pulls off his body like a roast chicken leg? No thanks. Suitcase, please.”

  “You sure you don’t mind me using it?”

  “Magic doesn’t solve everything,” she says. “Sometimes you need double-stitched seams and inline skate wheels for smooth rolling.”

  We load the corpse into the suitcase. It’s one of those huge suitcases some women pack full of clothes for weekend trips and still can’t find room for their hair dryers and curling irons, but when we fold Arden’s legs and bend his arms, he fits just fine. When we’re done, I grab my backpack and begin packing my things.

  “You going somewhere?”

  “I think I’ll head to Arden’s place for the night. If I’m going to pose as him for a while, I’d better make things look normal over there. I should call his girlfriend back before she files a missing person report with the cops.”

  A brittle look passes across Felita’s face. “So that’s it, huh? You’re going pretend to be this guy until you find out who he’s working for?”

  “I can’t think of a better way.”

  “You’re doing the right thing,” she says. “Well. Not the right thing. The inevitable thing. Good luck.”

  “Do you want your suitcase back when I’m done with it?”

  “No way.”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t either. Thanks for everything. I guess I’ll see you around. Hope the, uh, full moon goes… well. Or however it usually goes, I guess.”

  I’m unsure how to deliver an appropriate farewell here. A hug would be in bad taste since I’m wearing a silver belt buckle and she’s a werewolf. The aroma of death is weaker now that Arden is zipped into the suitcase, but it’s lingering to such an extent that anything aside from a friendly nod as I tilt the suitcase onto its wheels and draw out the extensible handle would feel like too much. I shoulder my backpack, wait for Ersatz to climb in, and make sure I’ve got all my stuff and Arden’s stuff before rolling the suitcase to the door. “See ya.”

  “Bye,” she says, opening it for me and closing it behind me.

  In the hallway, the elevator, the lobby, the parking garage, the trunk, and the driver’s seat of the hearse, I ruminate on what it’ll be like to be a new man for a while. To have a new life, even if it only lasts a short time. In the midst of my daydreaming I almost run a stoplight. Driving is going to take some getting used to.

  I leave the suitcase in the trunk of the hearse rather than lug it upstairs with me. I figure the fewer people who see me dragging around a heavy human-sized container, the better. The night receptionist at Phipps Plaza Tower’s front desk gives me a friendly wave as I cross the lobby and board one of the elevators.

  Upstairs I find everything in Arden’s apartment just the way I left it. With no pajamas of my own, I grab a set of his. When I take off my belt, the pain of my injuries flares anew as I revert to my natural form. The pajama pant legs are high-waters on me, two inches too short. I crawl into his huge bed with its soft luxurious sheets and take out his phone. I’m more nervous as I pull up Ava’s phone number and press the Call button than I’ve ever been calling any girl before.

  She picks up after the first ring. “Hello? Arden?”

  “Hey, babe.”

  “Hey. Where’ve you been? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “Sorry. Work’s been hell.”

  A pause. “Are you okay? You sound different.”

  I curse under my breath. “Gimme a sec
.”

  I drop the phone and leap to the floor, where I roll into the belt and fasten the buckle. My spine creaks and cringes; my nose and skin shift into place. I scramble onto the bed, take a deep breath, and gently place the phone to my ear. “Hey. Sorry about that. Just getting situated.”

  “Can I come over and see you?”

  “Uh…” I look at the alarm clock. 10:28pm. “Su-u-u-re.”

  “Okay, I’ll—”

  “Wait.”

  “Huh?” she asks. “What?”

  “Uh, on second thought, I don’t know.”

  “Yes or no, Arden?”

  “Yes…?”

  “Screw it, I’m coming over. I don’t even care. You can’t disappear for two days and expect me not to come see you.”

  I wince. “Okay.”

  “I’ll be there in like twenty minutes.” She hangs up.

  “What did you do?” Ersatz asks from his perch on Arden’s dresser.

  “I kind of invited my not-girlfriend over instead of breaking up with her.”

  Ersatz shakes his head, rests his chin on his hands, and closes his eyes.

  I get dressed. After hiding my backpack in the closet and roughing up the place a little to make it look more lived-in, I crash on the couch and flip on the living room TV. When there’s a knock on the door half an hour later, I turn off the tube and open up.

  Ava looks sullen, but happy to see me. Happy to see Arden, that is. She slides her arms around my waist. “I’m sorry, baby. I know work has been stressful for you lately. I should’ve been more understanding.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her, rolling my eyes.

  She puts her purse on the side table in the foyer and walks right past the slender vase where Ersatz is hiding, chameleonlike, among the fronds of a tall spider plant. “Come here,” she says.

  I do, though I know I’ll regret it.

  “I missed you.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  She pouts her bottom lip and gives me a nod. “Didn’t you miss me?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  Her expression sours. “That’s convincing.”

  I don’t reply. Maybe if she were my actual girlfriend, I’d play the game. As it stands, I can see it for what it is.

  She recovers in an instant. “I know you missed me. We’ve got some making up to do.”

  “Do we?”

  “Oh yeah. I haven’t had my baby in so long.” She throws me a devious smile as she reaches for my belt buckle. “I hope you’re not too tired this time.”

  What am I supposed to say? ‘Let’s play a fun game where I keep my belt on while we have sex and you pretend I’m not a weirdo?’ Or better yet, dole out another harsh rejection? Stick to your principles, man, I tell myself, though it’s Ersatz’s voice ringing through my head and not my own. Don’t falter now. “How long have we been dating?” I ask her, taking her hands in mine before she can unfasten my belt.

  She pulls back to look at me. “Five months next week. Why?”

  “I was just thinking back to how we met.”

  She smiles. “Why were you thinking about that?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I feel like… it’s been pretty good, hasn’t it?”

  Her smile becomes a smirk. “Yeah. Yeah, it has.”

  What am I doing? It sounds more like I’m getting ready to propose to her than break up with her. I make a course adjustment. “So, I’ve been really overwhelmed with work lately, and with the whole probate thing. On top of all that, Mom’s death has kind of hit me really hard this week.”

  She frowns. “You hated your mom.”

  I try not to blush, but I don’t think it’s working. “I did?”

  “Um. Yeah. I thought so. You’ve literally said, my mom’s such a bitch, and, I hate that woman. You’ve been kind of like… relieved since she died. I mean, I understand, babe, I really do. Sometimes it takes a while for these things to sink in. I’m just… surprised. You hadn’t talked to her in years. You’ve told me you felt like your nanny was more of a mom to you than your mom was, growing up.”

  No wonder Ramona Savage cut her kids out of the family fortune, I think. Maybe Jerry didn’t coerce her into signing a fake will after all. Maybe the will she signed was the real one. “I know what I’ve said, but you never really mean those things. Family is complicated. They get on your nerves, and you might say you hate them, but it comes from a place of frustration rather than actual hatred.”

  “Yeah, I know, hon. I get it. You can always talk to me about this stuff, okay? So what’s bothering you?”

  “What I was saying was, I’ve just been, kind of… not myself… lately. I’m all kinds of mixed-up, emotions-wise, and I don’t really think I’m in any state to be making important decisions about my future right now. I’m in limbo, I guess you could say. Sort of… floating.”

  “That’s okay, babe. I’m here for you no matter what. You know that, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, and I appreciate that. But it’s just like, I don’t have the—the time to, uh, really, explore the way I feel about you, to the extent that you deserve. I feel like I can’t give you what you need, and I don’t see that changing for a while.”

  She pulls away. “What does that even mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

  I don’t answer. I can’t.

  Her eyes mist over. “Seriously? What’s happened between last weekend and now to make you want to do this? Is something going on at work?”

  “There’s a lot of stuff going on. I wish I could explain, but—”

  “Try.”

  “It’s not that simple. It’s just—it’s better if you go.”

  “What the fuck, Arden? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She shakes her head, exhales. “Okay. Bye, Arden.” She flicks me off, grabs her purse off the side table and storms out, slamming the apartment door behind her.

  “That was rather cold,” says Ersatz from his hiding place within the spider plant.

  I flop onto the couch. “That was the worst, is what it was. And she wasn’t even my real girlfriend.”

  “It could’ve been much worse. Arden could’ve been married. In the grand scheme of things, ending a five-month relationship is getting off easy. She’ll move on in love, and someday soon Arden Savage will be nothing more than a distant memory.”

  “I envy her. I’d like to forget I ever met Arden, too. Take things back to the way they were.”

  “Your life before was only a staging ground for what’s to come. Greater things await you on this path, with trials and hardships beyond any you’ve faced yet. Your strengths will be exposed, your weaknesses sharpened, and your purpose fulfilled. You’re nowhere close to reaching your full potential, Cade. You’ve only just begun to grasp the destiny for which you’re intended.”

  “You crank out a solid pep talk when you want to. I might ask you for another one of those pretty soon.”

  “I’m not a vending machine,” he says. “These things happen spontaneously, or they don’t happen at all.”

  “I’ll try to remember this one for an extra-long time, then. Goodnight Ersatz.”

  “Sleep well, my prince.”

  “Too soon. Let’s work up to that.”

  “As you command, your highness.”

  “Alright. That’s enough.” I head toward the bedroom.

  “Cade.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  I do a double-take. “What did you say?”

  “Mmm.” His eyes are closed, head resting on his hands.

  I sigh and trudge into the bedroom, shaking my head.

  When I remove the belt, the pain of my injuries flares anew. I swallow a few ibuprofen and fall asleep considering the implications of upending another person’s life this way. I’ve been acting like I half-expect him to come walking back into it one day, slap me five like a tag-team wrestler, and thank me for handling things while he
was sitting on the sidelines. Once I dispose of the body, Arden Savage’s life is mine to do with as I please. And in many ways, that’s a terrifying thought.

  Chapter 23

  The next morning I wake up early, grab a shower, and breakfast on Arden’s stash of organic hippie granola. Wearing his monogrammed terrycloth bathrobe, I raid his office for his social security card and bank account numbers, which I spend several minutes memorizing. I lounge on the couch and watch a marathon of daytime soaps which have me blowing my broken nose through half a box of tissues by the end. Aside from the soreness of my wounds, I can’t complain. It’s good to be Arden Savage.

  When I slide into the hearse’s driver’s seat a few minutes before eleven o’clock, the stench of death is so strong I almost return Arden’s granola to the earth from whence it came. Or to the concrete floor of the parking garage, at least. I power through it, turn on the air conditioning, and GPS my way to the nearest SladeBanc location.

  SladeBanc is one of the city’s largest syndicates, a merger of several smaller banks bought out one by one over recent years by the obscenely wealthy Slade Investment Group. The branch bears a sleek ultra-modern look and a newish smell which speaks of recent renovation. Given Tuesday mornings aren’t a big draw for the banking industry, I’m the only customer. I approach the first teller window, where a heavy-set brunette looks up and smiles at me through the thick plexiglass plate. “Good morning, sir. How are you today?”

  “Doing well. How about yourself?”

  “I’m well, thanks for asking. How can I help you?”

  “I’d like to withdraw ten thousand dollars in cash, please.”

  “Okay,” she says without skipping a beat. “We’ll need a manager’s approval for that. Let me get him for you.”

  She disappears into the back room and emerges a moment later behind a prim man with combed brown hair in prescription Ray Bans and a red necktie. He shakes my hand, tells me his name, and asks the reason for my visit today. I repeat what I told the cashier. He listens attentively, nodding and looking me in the eye. “Right this way, please.”

  He sits me down at his desk near the back of the bank and types a few things into his computer. When he asks for my name, address, account number, and social security number, I rattle them off. He seems satisfied and tells me to wait here while he retrieves the money from the back.