by Al K. Line
"What are you on about? I'm a thief, I nick stuff, and sure, stuff happens now and then, but it isn't like I always deal with major problems that would affect other adepts or the vamps or shifters and what have you."
"No?"
"No." I plonked back down and sank into the wingback chair. I thought over the last several years, back to when Ivan ascended and Cerberus became more active in defending what was theirs, trying to push things.
"Goddamn, I am always involved, aren't I? You too, usually."
"Exactly."
Guess I was truly back in the game now.
The Nitty Gritty
Seemed it had been going on for a week or so, the exact start impossible to pin down. Like creeping death, or a virulent plague, it became apparent people had taken their filter off and were saying exactly what they thought, nothing left unsaid. Lying vanished, and with it came a whole host of complications. The number of divorce applications had skyrocketed, crime both major and minor had doubled, and the growing incidence of hospital admissions led to the NHS becoming more overburdened than it already was, accident and emergency now having a ten hour wait time as people got into fights and demanded speedy attention which wasn't forthcoming which led to more fights.
The underground had it worse. Criminals were getting caught as they blurted out their crimes, unable to lie about their business, magic users caused untold damage when they ceased hiding their abilities and let loose with the wild powers in the most inappropriate of places. And the shifters were the biggest problem of all. They had remained utterly underground for as long as anyone could remember, never revealing themselves, never showing their true nature. But they had decided, or been compelled, to show what they were, to change and let others see. Of course, so far it was all seen as a series of isolated tricks, a city-wide stunt being pulled, but soon enough the truth would finally sink in.
It was a very dangerous situation. They would be rounded up, studied, experimented on, seen as freaks, outliers, and distrusted, feared, maybe even hunted down. People don't like things they can't understand. Vamps were also a real concern, and this was Ivan's main worry too. His kind were also proudly showing off their abilities, no longer hiding, and although not exactly flaunting it yet, they were being honest about what they were to anyone who asked. Ivan had his hands full dealing with the aftermath.
Yet still, I didn't see why I had to sort this out, or how I could. I was just an ace wizard thief who sometimes got embroiled in a lot of the nonsense the main players were involved in, but it wasn't through choice and it wasn't my bloody job.
How was I meant to stop this? How could I find out who was doing it? And more importantly, why were they doing it? And most importantly of all, would this mean Penelope would keep moaning about my choice of clothes?
Our conversation was rushed and Ivan talked fast and gave details without embellishment. Why? Because the women were shouting in the kitchen and it was clear we had little time before they returned. Plus, he was a man of few words, which suited me perfectly as you know me, don't like to talk much.
"So what's the plan?" I asked.
"That's your department," he snapped.
"It affecting you too, is it?"
"No, it isn't."
"Oh, okay, then you're just being rude. What's the deal though? I'm fine, so are you, it isn't hitting everyone."
"Seems the stronger you are, the less it can infiltrate your system. Obviously something to do with magic, either innate, through the blood, or learned."
"But it's affecting shifters, they have it built-in, they're the most magical of the lot."
"They may be the exception. But again, the stronger they are, meaning the more ferocious the animal, the more powerful, the less it affects them."
I had a thought, and it sent me cold and shivering, my stomach squirming. "Please, for the love of God, tell me Vicky hasn't been affected."
Ivan shuddered. I thought I was gonna puke.
"Haha, no, she's fine. At least," he said, his brow furrowing, "I don't think it has had any impact. It's hard to tell."
"Trust me, you'd know. If you think she has the filter off now, you have no idea how bad she'd be with no-holds-barred."
"You're right, of course."
"And the plan?"
"I told you, it's down to you. You know this world better than I, but we are relying on you."
"Who is?"
"Everyone. The magical community, all of us who aren't citizens. And for the first time, citizens are relying on you too, even though they don't know it."
"I think you'll find it's the second time. Why'd you think I buggered off so quickly to get married and have my honeymoon?"
"Ah, yes, the incident with Death. I still find that somewhat hard to believe."
"Me too, buddy, me too. But I solved that problem, helped the citizens out."
"My understanding was that you shirked your duty and made another poor man resume the role he detested."
"Er, well, it was for the best."
"I'm sure. Sort this, Arthur."
Minutes later, I found myself out on the street with the distinct impression that somewhere along the line, without me noticing, Ivan had become my boss. Screw him, screw this, I was going home and maybe I could find something to calm down the two women who had seemingly made it their purpose in life to insult me in ways that chipped away at my self-confidence at an alarming rate.
Aargh
After a nightmarish journey home with Ivan's driver giving everyone grief for having had a good time and moaning about never getting out in the daylight, which led to an argument because Penelope politely pointed out he was a vampire so to suck it up—haha—and him getting arsey about that, we finally arrived.
Ah, it was beautiful. Calm descended as we all felt the peace and order envelop us. George had kept the house spotless, the kitchen anyway, and it would only take me three to four hours to bring it up to standard.
I stood there on my imported tiles, surveying the old oak, the gleaming steel, the fancy-pants coffee machine, my lovely tap, and drooled thinking about arranging the cutlery drawer. This was what it was all about, not buggering off to get sand up your bottom and be bored senseless apart from when you were getting sweaty in the bedroom.
George had apparently got to grips with the coffee machine while we were away so made the brews. We sat at the table while I explained what Ivan had wanted.
Neither seemed very surprised, more relieved than anything, as they knew they were blurting things out they wouldn't normally. It was a relief for me too. At least maybe they'd be mindful of their words.
"Do you know...?" began Penelope.
"Yes?" I asked innocently.
"No, never mind."
"Say it if you want, but try to beat this thing. Say what you want to because you want to."
"Do you know that I love it when you get naked and bend over and—"
"No, absolutely not," shouted George. She turned to Penelope and said, "What is wrong with you? Why are you thinking that now?"
"Because looking at your dad sitting there all sexy, I got to thinking about having a shower, and then our bed, and then... Oh, gosh, sorry, I can't stop it. Arthur, we need to go upstairs right now. I'm going to say it, I am, and then George will know and—"
I pushed my chair back, grabbed her, and ran her out of the room as words came spewing from between her fingers as she tried to cover her mouth.
I have to admit, I liked what I heard. A man enjoys being complimented as much as a woman, and boy did she say nice stuff.
Shame now wasn't the time to do anything about it, but with George knowing why we'd come up it would have been weird. Several minutes later it was safe to return, and George watched us warily.
"You need to fix this. Ivan was right. No way am I living with you two talking dirty. It's freaky, and gross. You're both in your forties. Ugh!"
"Oi, we're still young. We still got it." I winked at Penelope. She giggled.
/> Maybe this whole truth thing wasn't so bad after all.
It was.
Woo-Hoo
With little let-up after the initial compliments, my ego was well and truly bruised, along with my shins and ribs after being repeatedly jabbed or kicked for apparently saying something wrong when trying to defend myself. So I was mightily relieved when my phone rang and I said I'd take it in the den.
"Arthur, why haven't you called?" asked Vicky, sounding petulant.
"Because I just got home, I had to go see your brother, and now I'm busy being insulted and beaten up. There must be a law against treating wizards this way. If not, there should be."
"You heard about it then?"
"I'm hearing about it constantly. I can't stand it."
"Congratulations on the marriage."
"Thank you. So, what's up?"
"Steve has a job for us." To say Vicky sounded excited was like saying she sometimes pulled her hair back into her ponytail a little too tight.
"He does? You and him still an item then?"
"Of course we are! I'm gorgeous and so is he. It's going really well and the girls adore him."
"Oh, it's just you never said before I left."
"That's because we were being chased by bad guys and I'd not long shot myself in the head."
"Fair enough." For once, she had a point.
"So what's the job? No, never mind, don't tell me. Tell him we'll take it. And by we, I mean me, but you can tag along to screw things up."
"You are so mean. When will we start?"
"Stupid question. Now, we start now." I hung up then went into the kitchen to tell my new wife the great news.
I escaped ten minutes later after a tirade of abuse, a lecture on my wayward lifestyle, moans about promising to be there for dinner and breaking that promise already, and several pats on the bottom for being a sexy beast.
With joy in my heart, Wand in my pocket, and boots on my feet, I got in the car and drove the hell away before I became entirely emasculated.
Here We Go Again
I parked in the barn I'd been in an hour ago, soaked up the silence, then walked through the Gate of Bakaudif and arrived in the kitchen of my city house. It was nothing like the proper one, but it was mine, and it was quiet. It was also in a new house because I'd had to relocate the gate after my front wall and most of the upper story had got a little exploded. Hopefully, the insurance would pay out, but I could afford it so had rushed through the purchase and had it fitted out simply but nicely before we left for our honeymoon. I quite liked it. Basic, Shaker style, minimal technology.
Keen to get back into the swing of things, I left the house and tried to recall what car I was currently using, and where I'd parked it.
After searching the streets, I eventually found the vehicle, thinking not for the first time that it would be easier to keep hold of one car rather than all this swapping about, but that's how people can trace you, follow you, so I guess I'd have to live with the inconvenience. Yet again, and it always came as a surprise, the keys were still safely stashed under the wheel arch. In all the years I'd been wizarding, I hadn't had a vehicle stolen.
I drove to Vicky's, anticipation building for a job, curious what it could be if it involved the shifters, and also wondering what I could do about this latest weirdness that seemed to have taken over not only the magical community but citizens too.
It could wait; I needed some good old-fashioned danger. Nothing too violent though, as I could no longer risk death, otherwise I would be Death, and that sucked.
At Vicky's, I parked up and before I was even out of the car I was greeted by two blond bombshells, or bombs more like, currently in the middle of exploding. They dragged me out, tugged at my clothes, begged to play tennis, then dress-up, then dolls, but really they wanted to watch TV with me, then I was unceremoniously pulled reluctantly into the house and through the hall into the kitchen where a rather bedraggled looking Vicky was standing in the middle of the room staring blankly into space.
"What you doing?" I asked as I tried to shake one twin from my leg whilst the other rifled my pockets. I moved her away gently and reminded her, "Wizard's pockets are dangerous places. Don't go snooping or you might get turned into a frog."
Her eyes widened and she snatched her hand away. They knew about magic, thought it was awesome, but weren't quite of an age where they understood the consequences or dangers of it all. They'd learn.
Vicky turned as if in a trance and sighed deeply.
"Why are you standing there?" I asked, shaking a leg but the limpet with blond hair hung on tight. I prized her fingers apart and threw a handful of sweets I kept in a super-secret pocket for such occasions into the hall and they scampered after them. Hey, don't judge me.
"It's the school holidays," whispered Vicky as she ran a hand through hair that had come loose from her ponytail. Something was seriously wrong for her to let that happen.
"Yeah, so?"
"So, I was trying to remain sane by taking a few seconds to myself. They have been off for a week now and I think I'm down to three brain cells."
"That's all you started with anyway."
"Very funny. You don't understand what it's like, you missed this bit."
"Don't remind me," I said wistfully. George appeared as a fully-grown teenager on my doorstep when her mum died, I never even knew about her until then so missed out on all the rest.
"Sorry, I know I shouldn't complain. I'm just tired."
"Not sleeping?"
"Do I ever?"
"No. And you need to eat. You're losing weight again. Sorry." It was my turn to apologize. We'd been through this enough times for me to know it was pointless nagging. Vicky had her issues and telling her about them didn't help.
"It's okay, and you're right. I'm distracted. Harried, that's the word."
"So what's the job?" I asked, knowing that would snap her out of her funk.
"Oh, you'll love it," she said, smiling and jigging about a little.
"Will I now? Usually when you say that I end up hating it and there's no payout."
"This is for the shifters, you know what they're like. There's always a fat stack of cash."
"And I know they are flaky."
"But Steve is running this, and he's stoked. We have to do it."
"What about this thing, this truth thing? Has it affected him?"
"A bit. He's been acting odd, that's for sure, but—"
"Mummy, Mummy, can we have ice cream?"
"Can we have a lolly?"
"Can I have mine in front of the TV?"
"I want mine in the garden." Tweedledum turned to me and asked, "Will you sit in the garden with me?"
I shrugged my shoulders, turned to Vicky, and said, "I'll have a choc ice," then led the girls by the hand into the garden where we eagerly awaited our snack. I don't think Vicky even realized it was dinner time, or maybe they'd already eaten. She tended to lose her mind somewhat when the girls were home, so for all I knew they'd just had breakfast.
The Job
"Wotcha, mate," said Steve as he sauntered down the garden.
"Hey, Steve, been a while."
"Sure has. Where you been hiding?" Steve kissed Vicky and searched for the girls but noted the closed curtains at their bedroom. I saw the relief when he realized they were sleeping. He loved them, but they were a handful, and getting more so with each passing day. Plus, you couldn't talk business with them constantly asking questions and interrupting.
"You know how it is. Bad guys, getting married, the usual."
"Oh yeah, congratulations. Now we'll get even less chance to go for a pint." Steve ran a hand though annoyingly tidy hair, at odds with the hipster beard full of product that made it shine. No, I didn't feel challenged, I liked the scruffy, unkempt wizard look. Mainly because I had no choice.
"Thanks. So, a job?"
"Yes, a job. I'm getting a cut of twenty percent of the value of this thing, so don't screw it up." Steve's eyes widene
d and he put a hand to his mouth. Vicky and I laughed.
"That's good to know."
"Twenty percent for running a job? That's nuts."
"Damn, I hate this bloody thing, whatever it is. Forget you heard me say that. And twenty is fair, I'm running it. You guys will get paid, and plenty. This is a high value item, but my cut is twenty, it's arranged."
"Fair enough, don't stress about it," I said, still smiling. People in the game never admit how much they earn, it leads to all kinds of issues and arguments. Everyone thinks they should get paid the most, that their role is the most important one, when truth is it all comes down to how much you can swindle out of the next guy as your payout always means someone else is getting shafted. So, the less the other person knows, the better.
Steve certainly had my interest now though. If he was getting twenty percent of the list value of this, then it had to be worth a mint. Because we were getting paid too.
"Here's how much I had in mind." Steve slid a piece of paper across the table. I unfolded it and glanced casually at the number. I kept my smile in place, just to unnerve him.
Steve knew I had him over a barrel now, even though I didn't know what the job entailed yet.
"Come on, you know I don't even get out of bed for that. Let's hear about this job first, then we can negotiate."
"Fine, fine." Steve took the paper back and wiped at his forehead.
Over the next hour or so, Steve gave us the lowdown on the job, what it entailed, any difficulties he thought might arise, and sent Vicky encrypted files containing plans he'd been given, and plenty of other bits of intel. It was mostly garbage, nothing concrete at all. Speculation, various locations. They obviously had no real idea where the artifact they wanted was located.
"All of that sounds good," I said after he'd finished, just so he'd feel better, and knowing I could make my own inquiries and discover what I needed to. It also meant I could jack the price right up to something stupendously eye-watering, and that always brought a smile to my face. "You left one thing out. What are we taking?"
