by Ben Reeder
“Kinda not sure where the Hell here is,” I said. “Just woke up tied to a chair and all. The jokes pretty much write themselves.”
“This is no time for humor. You are in the heart of Clan Ryu’s power in New Essex. The oyabuns are less than fifty yards away. Your life has never been in so much danger.”
“Seems like my life is always in some kind of danger,” I said. “And I can only end up so dead.”
“Then let me put it in terms you will take more seriously. You are in a room at a five star hotel. A hotel the Dragon Clan owns. Any assault upon it will be suicidal, even for a full-fledged wizard.”
“Is that a threat, lady?” I asked. “Because that’s dangerous ground. No one who’s threatened my friends or my family has ever walked away.”
“No, it is not a threat, merely a caution. I know my Trevor will come for you. It falls to you to make sure he doesn’t do something foolish. Even I could not face any of the oyabuns alone, to say nothing of the head of the clan.”
“Okay, are you new at this whole taking prisoners thing?” I asked. “Because right about now, you’re supposed to be telling me how escape is impossible, taunting me with your power, telling me no one is coming to rescue me...you know, monologuing.”
“I never assume escape is impossible. And I know my Trevor will find you.”
“You’ve really got to work on this whole villain shtick. You’re supposed to tell me you covered your tracks too well for me to be found. Besides, your bosses would have your ass if you didn’t.”
“I covered my tracks,” she said with a hint of a smile. “I didn’t cover yours. One last thing. We possess the Maxilla. It would be foolish of you to try to stop the Rending without it.” She held up my phone, showing me a photo of the Maxilla laying in a circle of black and green powder on a marble floor. With a smile, she tossed the phone on the expanse of the bed and turned to walk toward the door.
“Hey, could you at least turn on the TV?” I called after her. “I want to order pay per view, something really expensive like Ultimate Fights or a boxing match.”
She stopped and turned in the little foyer, her smile plain now. “You remind me of him,” she said. “You’re irreverent and brash like he was.”
“I’m also passive aggressive and a little messed up,” I said. She turned away and opened the door. “No TV? Okay, I’ll just call down for room service or something.”
She turned in the doorway. “Yes, do that,” she said, then tilted her head and winked before pulling the door shut behind her.
Once the latch clicked, I let my eyes unfocus and tried to use my Sight, but the world stayed depressingly normal and blurry. That made me blink. My mystic senses were always just below the surface, and years of use made them easy to touch even under pressure. Being tied to a chair was far from the worst situation I’d been in, so I should have seen the auras of anyone nearby. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, centered myself and reached for the core of my magick.
There was nothing there.
My eyes snapped open and my breath came in short gasps. Kim had done something to me, something to my magick. My heart pounded in my chest, and I tried to pull my arms free of the ropes, even though I knew I couldn’t break them. I could barely move my arms as it was, and even the slightest movement made my fingers hurt. When I tried to straighten my legs, I felt the ropes wrapped around my ankles. Wood creaked but evidently, the Yakuza paid for sturdy chairs in their five star hotel fortresses. Twisting in the chair revealed that I was tied to the chair by my elbows. I threw my head back and let out a frustrated sound, not quite a yell, but louder than a growl.
Magick was part of who I was, part of my very identity. Without my magick, I as just another pissed off kid with PTSD and a bad attitude. Another thought surfaced in my head, and I went still. If I lost my magick, I wasn’t Dr. C’s apprentice any more. I couldn’t protect Mom and Dee. I wouldn’t be a hero in my little sister’s eyes ever again. Those thoughts crushed me into total brain-lock, and for a few minutes, all I could do was sit there and imagine the look of pity on Dr. C’s face when he found out. Or the look on Dee’s face that I would never see again.
On the heels of that depression came a cold, calculating calm. Anger was a close friend to loss and sadness for me, and after the first wave of fear and depression, it washed over me like a cleansing fire. Every good thought I ever had of Kim, every pleasant memory from Dr. C’s mind was eclipsed by the dark rage that welled up in me, the need to make her pay for taking my magick from me.. I’d find a way to get revenge. Even if I had to destroy the whole damn Dragon Clan to do it. But first, I needed to get out of here.
My gaze fell on my phone. My expensive, high tech phone that Shade had given me. The phone that had voice commands. I hopped the chair forward until I was at the edge of the bed.
“Call Lucas,” I said. I heard the faint sound of the phone ringing, then Lucas’ voice on the other end.
“Dude, it’s like three in the morning,” he said, his words thick with sleep. “On a Saturday. This better be damn good,”
“Is being captured by the Yakuza good enough?” I asked. I heard movement from the other end, then Lucas’s voice got louder after a thump that sounded like someone landing on the floor.
“You have my undivided attention,” Lucas said moments later.
“Can you turn on the GPS app on my phone?”
“Shade can.”
“Call her and ask her to do it. Then call Dr. C. Tell him what’s going on and to be a sneaky bastard.. And stay home. I’m not even sure Dr. C can handle Kim.”
“Wait, you’re captured by the ninja lady from the hangar and her bosses, and you’re making a phone call? Last I checked that wasn’t standard villain procedure.”
“I’m tied to a chair, dude. Evidently, they forgot my phone has voice commands. Just do what I asked, okay?”
“Oh, I’m definitely calling Shade and Dr. C,” he said. “And I’m demanding photos of you tied to a chair.”
“Lucas?” I said. “Please, don’t leave your place. And tell Shade not to come after me, either.”
“Yeah, I can tell her to, but-”
“Be convincing,” I said. “This foe is beyond all of you.”
Silence held for a moment, then a much more subdued Lucas spoke. “I’ll tell her. I’ll convince her. Anything that makes you resort to misquoting another wizard has to be serious.”
“More than you know. End call.” There was a click, then the room went quiet, and all I could do was wait.
Waiting is different when you’re not in control of things. When all you can do is sit there and hope the next person to come through the door isn’t a bad guy, it’s like having a cheese grater run across your forehead. Every sound is a danger sign, every movement is an enemy. I tried to meditate, but that only made my awareness of my newfound loss of magick that much worse. The only comfort I could find was in imagining ways to destroy Clan Ryu.
When something did happen, it came from an unexpected direction. A soft clicking and rasping sound came from the left side of the room, and I saw the deadbolt to the adjoining room start to turn. It finally clicked to vertical, and the door opened until it hit the privacy lock, the loop of metal that was flipped over the bar. A slim piece of metal with a divot cut out of the end slid into view and pressed against the swing bar. Then the door closed most of the way, and I heard a tap. The flip bar swung away, and the door opened to reveal Dr. C in black slacks and a white button down shirt with a hotel name tag over his pocket.
“Are you okay?” he asked, walking into the room and picking up my phone.
“Kinda,” I said. “My magick’s gone. Other than that, I’m miserable.”
“It isn’t gone, just...blocked temporarily,” he said as he looked at my phone for a moment. “And you’re in so much trouble right now, I’m tempted to let it stay blocked for a while.”
“Blocked?” I asked, almost sobbing with relief. “How?”
“
Acupuncture and kuji-in,” he said, plucking the thin needles from my arm, then pointing at my hands. I let out a long, low growl as pain lanced down my arm in the wake of their removal. “The finger positions can block or enhance the flow of magick. Now, hold still, I need to cut your hands free. That’s going to hurt just as much, maybe even more. Now, don’t move...I don’t want to slice a finger open.”
“Yours or mine?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Yes to both,” he said, slipping a razor blade behind the twine wrapped around my fingers. The strands separated in the path of the narrow blade, and my fingers were free...and so was my magick. The pain I’d felt when he’d removed the needles from my arms was just an appetizer compared to the main course that arrived just then. My fingers curled toward my palms but it felt like they were also trying to pull in the opposite direction at the same time. Dr. C stood and went into the bathroom for a moment, then came back out.
“I can’t move my hands,” I grunted. Then my forearms tensed and my hands bent inward at the wrists, nearly doubling me over with even more pain. “Oh, damn,” I said, the words coming out as a hiss between clenched teeth.
“I hope this is worth whatever deal you made,” Dr. C said as he put an arm around my shoulders and guided me into the other room. A room service cart with covered plates sat in the foyer, half full. The rest were on the desk, and the smell of food filled the room. A portly man lay on the bed, snoring softly, the front of his undershirt dark with a wet mark. A woman in black lingerie sprawled next to him.
“This, yes,” I said. “Losing my magick...even if it was permanent? That was almost worth it. But this isn’t related to that. Not directly.”
“We’ll discuss the consequences later,” he said, lifting the linen cover on the cart. Underneath was a metal panel, which he opened to reveal a pair of shelves. The top one held more plates, but the bottom one was empty. “Hurry up and get in. Those two are going to wake up in about ten minutes, and if I did the potion right, they won’t remember the last half hour or so.”
I crawled into the lower shelf and curled up as Dr. C fiddled with the door to the room we’d just left. Then he came back over and knelt next to the cart.
“Move all the way to the back,” he said.
“My back is up against the other side,” I said once I’d scooted as far in as I could. Once I was situated, he reached in and covered me with a black cloth. Through the cloth, I could see him pile linen wrapped bundles that clinked when he set them down. Wrapped silverware, I assumed.
“No matter what happens, don’t move,” Dr. C said. “We can’t use active magick while we’re here or the gig is up, you got it?” I grunted something positive sounding and took a calming breath as the door closed.
As soon as the door closed, I felt my heart start hammering in my chest. After beating me hard enough to break bones, Dulka’s second favorite way to punish me was with confinement. Not just regular confinement, either. Most times, he’d tie me into uncomfortable positions, or stick me in a place where I couldn’t stand up or lay down. Or he’d stick me in a place that was narrow enough that I could do little more than breathe. Then he would get really creative. Ants and fleas were two of his favorite things to drop into whatever box he’d stuff me into, but if he was really pissed at me, he’d toss in something with a stinger. I could feel the top shelf against my right shoulder, the other side panel against my spine, and the front and back of the cart against my head and feet.
I’m okay, I’m not in a box, I thought to myself, struggling to keep my breathing slow and steady. My hands started shaking, and I curled them into fists against the pain already there. Concentrating on that helped me stay still as Dr. C pushed the cart down the hallway. We made it a few yards, then I heard another voice, and Dr. C stopped.
“Hey, guys, sorry, this order’s for the next floor up. Kitchen’s a little behind tonight.”
“It’s a little late for dinner,” the new voice said, his voice accented with the flat tone inherent in Japanese.
“Yeah, that’s what we said,” Dr. C laughed. “I think his uh, girlfriend called it the seventh inning stretch.” Several people laughed, and I heard the sound of metal on metal, like someone had lifted the cover on one of the plates. “Hey, put that back, man. You’re going to let it get cold.” I heard the rustle of cloth and something rubbing against leather, then the click of a hammer being drawn back.
“Then let it get cold,” another voice said.
“Man, I’m getting stiffed bad enough on tips tonight as it is. If you wanna look then look, but please, try not to fuck me over, okay?”
“We’ll take as long as we want, bellboy,” the first voice said. “We own this hotel. What’s in the bottom?”
“A couple more orders, silverware and glasses. Here,. I’ll show you.” Light filtered through the cloth, and I fought the urge to push myself out of the cart. The sound of another lid being lifted, and this time I heard the plate clatter. My inner mantra was down to I’mokayI’mokayI’mokay.
“Do you have a problem?” the other voice said.
“No, help yourself,” Dr. C said, sounding defeated. Two voices exchanged a few words in Japanese, and I caught enough to understand that they thought the cart was empty.
“Get the hell out of here,” the first man said. The cart started moving again, and the sound of the guards laughing followed us down the hallway. I felt the cart turn sharply, then bump over something before coming to a stop. The doors opened and the cloth and silverware were pulled away.
“Okay, we’re clear,” Dr. C said, but I was out of the cart and on the floor before he could finish. I didn’t bother getting to my feet; I just crawled to the furthest corner I could find and tried to get a grip on myself. My breath came in deep gulps of air, and I started reciting the line running in my head aloud.
“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” I muttered as I looked around. Some part of my brain was sure Dulka was going to pop out from behind a wall, and tell me I had never really left his palace in Hell at all. It felt like the last two years had never happened, and for a moment or two, I believed that. Dr. C was at my side in an instant, his hand on my shoulder, his voice distant.
After a minute with no Dulka jumping out of somewhere, I began to understand the words that had been all but bouncing off my eardrums. “Chance, you’re fine. Dulka’s gone. I’m real. This is real. Focus on me, on my voice.” I blinked and brought my gaze to him.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m focused. I’m good...well, I can function.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“Dulka used to put me in these tiny spaces to punish me,” I said as I tried to get to my feet. “Really small.”
“I’m sorry Chance,” Dr. C said. The pained look on his face said more than the words ever could. “I didn’t mean to...well, I don’t know what I meant, but…”
“No, it’s all good, sir,” I said. “You didn’t know. It’s not like I ever said anything about it. Besides, I’d rather crawl in a box and have my magick than be in that room without it. And we still have to get out of here. What’s the plan?”
“We’re going to have to walk out the front door,” Dr. C said, pulling off the vest and name tag. Now that I was on my feet, I could see an unconscious hotel staffer laying on the floor. Dr. C bent down and pulled a duffel bag from behind the cart.
“I’m pretty sure the bad guys are going to have something to say about that,” I said. “Like, no.”
“They have to see you first,” he said, handing me a stained white smock. “Shirt in the bag. They’re looking for a kid walking out in street clothes, not a member of the kitchen staff taking out the trash.” He handed me a hairnet and a pair of thick framed glasses.
“Those are some ugly glasses,” I said.
“Military grade birth control glasses,” Dr. C said with a smile. “Guaranteed to make sure the opposite sex will have zero interest in you.”
“I believe it,” I said as I slid the
glasses on. The hairnet took some work to get on, but when I had finished, I couldn’t feel my hair brushing my shoulders. With the glasses and the hairnet, I looked very different. My reflection in the metal door had a differently shaped face and shorter hair. The glasses covered my cheekbones and changed my look even more. And damn, did they make me look ugly.
“If I ever complain about my looks again, sir,” I said, pushing the glasses up on my nose, “just show me these.”
“I can take a picture and capture this moment for posterity,” Dr. C said, looking ahead, totally deadpan.
“This never happened,” I said, mirroring him. While I had been putting on the smock, Dr. C had donned a tie and a rumpled suit jacket. He’d combed his hair with a part way over on the right side, and with his glasses pushed up on his head, he looked like an overworked manager.
“Slouch, you’re tired,” he said. Following his own advice, he slumped a little forward and let his shoulders fall a little. His eyelids drooped and bent his head forward a little. I tried to copy him, and he nodded. The doors opened and we stepped out into staff country. The floors were bare, gray concrete, the walls covered in textured plastic, and the lights were a little dimmer. Dr. C headed to the right, and I followed him, trying to imitate the way he shuffled along. As we passed by the kitchen, he pointed at a nearly full trash can on rollers, and I grabbed it and started pushing it along. “You go first, I’ll cover you on the trip out, “ he said softly.
The exit was less than fifty feet away, and it was blocked by a big Oriental man in a black suit with a bulge under his left arm. Gold chains were draped around his neck, and massive gold rings glittered on his fingers. I didn’t want to think of what getting punched by him might feel like. Beside me, Dr. C stopped and reached into his front pocket to retrieve his phone, and I kept going. The Yakuza guard looked me over once, and dismissed me until I got to the door. Then he put his hand on the trash can and stopped me.
