Power Game

by Brad Magnarella

  Upon finishing our tour of the fourth floor, we rode down to the third and emerged into what looked like an open market. Vendor stalls stretched from one end of a large hall to the other.

  The four of us spread out, each taking a different aisle. I moved past impressive displays of art, leatherworks, and handmade accessories. Trailing on her harness, Tabitha hissed at anyone who smiled down at her or, God forbid, showed an inclination to pet her. She swiped her claws at one determined woman.

  “How’s demon watch going?” I asked.

  “The only demons are these idiot humans,” she snapped back.

  “Be nice.”

  At the far end of the vendor area, the floor narrowed to a corridor dubbed “Author’s Alley.” Stanchions steered book-clutching fans to their favorite writers. I recognized several of the names: Logsdon, Massey, Sanchez, Silvers.

  Up ahead, an author sporting a salt-and-pepper comb back finished signing a book, closed it with a flourish, and tossed it to a lone fan who looked suspiciously like his mother. When he glanced my way, there was a mad, almost maniacal, gleam in his eyes that unnerved the hell out of me. Something about it screamed God complex. The author grinned and shot us with a pair of finger pistols.

  “Case in point,” Tabitha muttered.

  I smiled tightly at this Brad Magnarella and hurried on.

  Beyond Author Alley, the floor opened again to a room with a smaller collection of vendors specializing in armor and weapons. As Vega and Mae joined us, I peered around.

  “What happened to Bree-Yark?”

  At that moment, I heard shouting and what sounded like a rack of chainmail crashing to the floor. The barking voice that rose above the scrum was unmistakably goblin. Crap.

  I scooped up Tabitha and arrived at a run to find Bree-Yark straddling the chest of a man dressed as a robot. Gold-painted cogs and gears flew as Bree-Yark rained blows down on his head. A semi-circle of conference-goers formed around the combatants.

  “House elf?” Bree-Yark barked savagely. “I’ll show you a house elf!”

  He reached over, grabbed a fallen dagger, and held it to the robot’s throat. The tip was blunt and there were no sharp edges, but it was still solid enough to do damage, especially in the grip of a goblin.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I cried, shoving through the crowd in time to grab Bree-Yark’s wrist.

  Vega joined me, and we managed to pull him off the robot. The plastic shell around the robot’s head had cracked open, and a groggy pair of eyes stared out. But even as we dragged Bree-Yark backwards, he continued trying to land shots with his work boots.

  “Do you want me to haul you in?” Vega shouted.

  Only when the robot’s friends had helped him up and ushered him away did Bree-Yark calm down enough to drop the knife. A group of NYPD officers ran up, but Vega shook her head to tell them we had it under control. They eyed Bree-Yark for a moment before dispersing. The goblin’s breaths blasted from his nostrils for several more cycles before he raised a hand to show us we could release his arms.

  He straightened his wool hat, which had gone askew. “Punk called me a house elf.”

  “Yeah, because he thought you were in costume,” I said. “Something similar happened to me earlier, but I didn’t start throwing punches, for crissake. C’mon, man. What did I say earlier about focusing?”

  Bree-Yark grunted.

  Mae had arrived and, ever the mother, set Buster’s carrier down to begin cleaning up the mess.

  “Here, let me do that,” Bree-Yark said in what sounded like embarrassment.

  While they worked together, I turned to Vega and in a lowered voice said, “I’m starting to think calling them here was a mistake.”

  “At least you’re asking for help now.”

  I felt my brow crease in question. “What do you mean?”

  “You have a habit of taking on too much yourself. And no offense, but that’s when things typically go to shit. One person—or wizard—can only shoulder so much.” Though she was using her firm voice, her eyes were soft and personable. She shifted them to Bree-Yark and Mae. “Even this is an improvement for you.”

  “Yeah, well, I hope you’re right.”

  But her assurance gave me confidence. It had taken a lot of mental back and forth before pulling the trigger on hiring the vampire hunters. As a result, I had eyes watching the city for Arnaud and three silver-armed pros who could finish the job. And now here I was with a team attuned to various preternatural frequencies, not to mention backed up by a hundred NYPD officers. And if push came to serious shove, I had the Upholders and the power of the interfaith community at my beck and call.

  Maybe.

  Vega must have seen a change come over my face. “What is it?” she asked.

  I considered whether now was the time to tell her about the offer of sanctuary. But at that moment, Bree-Yark straightened suddenly and peered across the room, his vertical pupils narrowing to slits.

  I followed his gaze. “Something up?”

  “See that group checking out the wands?” he asked in a low voice.

  A second later, I saw who he meant. A pair of young men and a woman were milling around a display. But something about them seemed at odds with the other con-goers, and it wasn’t just that they weren’t in costume. It was in their unnatural movements and expressions, the moonlike glow of their hair. And something about their casual designer outfits seemed just a little too well put together.

  “They’re lunar fae,” he said.

  15

  I squinted, but the three were too far away for me to discern any magic.

  “Sure they’re fae?” I asked.

  “Yeah, their magic’s subtle and they’re using glamours,” Bree-Yark said, “but I’d recognize their kind anywhere.”

  I moved forward until I was behind the righted rack of chainmail. Vega came up to my other side. Though I’d never encountered one, I recalled from my readings that lunar fae were mischievous and vindictive. Didn’t like humans much, either. When the female fae turned, a lanyard with a badge swung from her neck.

  “Attendees?” I said in surprise. “What in the world are they doing at Epic Con? They already live in a fantasy world.”

  “Maybe they’re just curious,” Mae replied.

  “Not likely,” Bree-Yark said. “If they’re here, it’s for a specific purpose.”

  “Are they dangerous?” Vega asked.

  “Can be,” Bree-Yark grunted.

  “And they can conjure, right?” I asked, still pulling up info from my memory bank.

  “Don’t know about these three, but some can,” Bree-Yark said. “Use their magic to pluck creatures out of a realm that intersects with the Fae Wilds. Nighttime creatures, usually,” he added with a scowl.

  “As in a pair of fire breathing lizards?” I asked.

  “Never ran into anything like that myself, but it doesn’t mean they’re not out there. Like I said, lot of wild shit in that part of Faerie.” He quickly looked over at Mae and Vega and raised a hand in apology.

  I pulled out my flip phone and accessed the photo of the casting circles. I hadn’t thought of showing it to Bree-Yark before, but he was proving to be more knowledgeable than I would have guessed.

  “Does this look like a lunar casting symbol?”

  The thick skin of Bree-Yark’s face furrowed as he studied it. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. I might be able to sense magic, but it’s not really my thing. I’m more into engineering. Hey, ever see that show Megastructures?”

  “No,” I said, returning my phone to my pocket and my attention to the fae.

  “Want me to keep an eye on them?” he asked.

  “After what you did to Mr. Roboto? No, thanks.”

  “Look, his remark caught me off guard, all right? It touched a nerve. I’m good now.”

  The lunar fae were a lead I wanted to follow, but there were still two floors of con to cover. Having Bree-Yark take that job would be a big help. I glanced over at Vega, wh
o shrugged as if to tell me it was my call.

  I looked back at Bree-Yark. “House elf,” I said.

  His right hand tensed as if preparing to ball into a fist, but he caught himself and shook his arms loose. “See there? Nobody’s gonna trigger me with that one again. Did I pass?”

  He’d realized I was testing him. “I suppose, but you’re strictly on watch,” I said. “No engagement. And keep us updated. In fact, I’m going to have Mae go with you.” I turned to her. “Is that all right?”

  “Well, sure. If it’s all right with him.”

  I expected Bree-Yark to argue, but he bowed slightly and offered her the crook of his arm. “Fair lady?”

  For a thuggish-looking goblin, he had a way of turning on the charm. Mae let out a surprised giggle and accepted his elbow. When he turned to lead her away, I got Mae’s attention and used two fingers to make the keep an eye on him gesture.

  She nodded in a way that told me she knew her role.

  “So, second floor?” Vega asked.

  “Yeah, there’s actually a presentation I want to catch.” I shook my folded program open and held it so we could both see the schedule. I moved my finger past sessions titled Demon Lords Revisited, Werewolf-Vampire Hybrids: Fearsome Fact or Cheap Fiction?, and Ghoul-Slaying in the Digital Age, until I found the one I was looking for.

  “Here,” I said, giving it a tap.

  “Confessions of a Modern Day Magic-User,” she read.

  “Sounds hokey, but if the presenter has honest-to-goodness magical abilities, then we might have another lead.”

  Vega, Tabitha, and I arrived to find the conference room packed. We managed to grab two seats together near the back. With more people still entering, I could see this was going to be a standing-room-only session. Maybe we did have something.

  “Am I supposed to lie on the floor like an animal?” Tabitha asked from my feet.

  In the bustle and din of the room, no one else heard her, but I motioned for her to keep it down anyway. “Now might be a good time for a nap,” I whispered. “There’s space under my chair.”

  She made a pouty face, which told me what she wanted.

  I sighed. “Fine, but keep your claws sheathed.”

  I lifted her onto my lap. Tabitha spent the next minute rearranging herself—and my legs—until she’d attained a form roughly the size and shape of a car tire. “A neck rub would be nice,” she said.

  “You’re pushing it.”

  “I’m depressed, remember?”

  I consented just to keep her quiet. Within moments, she was purring like a small motor. A woman beside me—dressed, appropriately enough, as Catwoman—tilted her head in adoration and began to reach over with her gold-painted claws, but I warned her back with a stern shake of my head.

  “Ringworm,” I whispered.

  Catwoman grimaced and shrank away. By now the room was dimming, highlighting the stage in front. A tall man with long, graying hair and a two-day stubble stood behind a podium. His faded black shirt read THE ONLY GOOD GOBLIN IS A DEAD ONE. Good thing Bree-Yark wasn’t with us.

  But was this the “modern-day magic-user”? I wondered.

  “All right, everyone,” he said in one of those aging stoner voices as he signaled for quiet. The room settled. “First and foremost, welcome to the return of Epic Con!” he shouted, punctuating the greeting with a fist pump.

  Being the first session of the day, the costumed crowd answered with a predictable onslaught of enthusiasm. The response had an intoxicating effect on the speaker, apparently. A huge smile stretched his face. He began pacing the stage with long thrusts of his legs, throwing up more fist pumps. This went on for a full minute.

  “I’m Stan the Man,” he said into his head mic, “and you’re all awesome, awesome, awesome!”

  An even more raucous wave than the first rolled in. Vega nudged my arm and pointed to the second page of her program. Stan Burke was one of the conference organizers. I gave her a thumb’s up for the info.

  “We’ve got a really special treat for you,” Stan said as he and the noise finally settled back down. “For the first time ever at Epic Con we have a bonafide magic-user ready to razzle and dazzle you with his mad, mystical skillzzz. So put your hands, hooves, paws and claws together, and welcome the great Brian Lutz!”

  I telescoped my neck as a round ginger-haired man in a red robe stood from the front row, lumbered up, and took Stan’s place on stage. Though his chubby face and short arms made him look boyish, I pegged him to be in his forties. From behind a pair of glasses, mouse-like eyes skittered over the audience. His mouth, framed in a goatee the same color as his hair, worked itself into a tense line.

  I’d already opened my wizard’s senses but couldn’t discern anything magical around him. And if he was planning to do a stage act, he was sorely hurting for any kind of theatrical presence. He looked more like an accountant preparing to read from an actuarial table.

  “Is he just going to stand there?” Vega whispered.

  “I’m still trying to figure out how he’s so popular,” I whispered back.

  Whereas Stan had taken the energy of the audience and converted it into pacing and fist pumps, Brian just seemed to be stewing in it. Even so, I caught myself leaning forward. There was something a little magnetic about the man. Or maybe it was just the anticipation of him crashing and burning, which seemed more and more inevitable.

  When Brian’s cheeks started to tremble, I thought he was going to burst into tears.

  Without warning, his face clenched. With the wave of a robed hand, he shouted, “Silence!”

  There was a strange power in his thin voice, and the room obeyed immediately. I thought I caught a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth as he adjusted the microphone on his headset. He clasped his hands behind his back and began a slow stroll of the stage.

  “My story is common enough among wizards, I suppose,” he said with the appropriate amount of modesty. “I never knew my parents. I came up in a foster family, though I say the word family with no small amount of irony. They were anything but. They derived sadistic pleasure in denying me the basic joys of childhood that I’m sure most of you took for granted: friends, toys and books, a reasonable amount of computer time…” A bedroom that wasn’t a closet beneath the stairs, I thought with an eyeroll. I may not have been sensing any magic, but my bullshit detector was rattling off the charts.

  “All for being different,” he continued. He stopped and thrust up a finger. “But everything changed on my eleventh birthday…”

  “All right,” I said to Vega. “We can go now.”

  She nodded and stood from her seat. When I lifted Tabitha to place her on the floor, she snorted awake and gouged her claws into my knees.

  “Hey! Ow!” I cried.

  There was a collective rustling as heads and costumed bodies turned. Keeping my own head low, I gripped Tabitha’s paw and tried to unhook her from my pants, but she was caught fast. “Let go.” I hissed.

  “I can’t. I’m snagged.”

  When a disgruntled murmur rippled through the crowd, I realized Brian had stopped talking. I peered up to find him glaring across the audience at me.

  “Sorry,” I said, showing a hand.

  Tabitha’s claws finally popped free, and I set her down and joined Vega in the aisle.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Croft,” Brian said.

  I wheeled in surprise. He knew me?

  “The wizard hero,” he added in a contemptuous tone.

  He must have recognized me from the coverage of the eradication campaign the year before. As more murmurs went up, I looked around nervously. The last thing I wanted was for whoever had conjured the lizards to know I was here. That could make them a lot more careful, harder to track down.

  “Actually, I’m supposed to be John—I mean, Harry—” I struggled to come up with one of the wizards the guy dressed as Captain America had called me earlier, but under the weight of the room’s collective attention, the names al
l collided in my mind.

  “Everson Croft,” Brian said, grinning now. He turned to the crowd. “For those who don’t know, this is the stooge the mayor used in his campaign for reelection. The so-called magic-user. Note my use of irony again.”

  My cheeks smoldered as chuckles sounded, but I shook my head and continued to follow Vega.

  “What’s wrong?” Brian shouted at my back. “Don’t like being called out by an actual wizard?”

  Maybe it was the stress of Arnaud lurking out there or being assigned the task of finding an unknown person before the demons did and without the Order’s help, or maybe it was just the thought of the sacrifices I’d made to help protect posers like this guy, but my anger got the better of me and I spun to face him.

  So much for my little talk with Bree-Yark about controlling ourselves.

  “Whoa-ho-ho,” Brian chuckled. “I think I just got someone’s attention.”

  “Relax, man,” I called back. “It’s just a con. How about enjoying your dress up and letting the rest of us enjoy ours.”

  A few oohs went up.

  Brian flinched slightly, and the humor drained from his face.

  He took a deep breath that swelled his belly and released it slowly. “Dress up? You believe this to be dress up?” He gestured to his robe, where a crest of some sort had been sewn poorly onto the left breast. “I’d planned a demonstration for the audience, but how about a challenge instead? Would you like to see that?” he asked the crowd. “The talents of a true wizard pitted against those of a phony’s?”

  The crowd’s response was overwhelmingly positive. I even picked up some jeers directed at me.

  Vega tugged my sleeve. “C’mon,” her lowered voice sounded in my earpiece. “We’ve got more convention space to search.”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  But as I started to turn from Brian, I picked up something in my wizard’s senses. The image was subtle, nearly imperceptible, but a dark electrical energy appeared to be crackling throughout the crowd, fed, it seemed, by their enthusiasm. Maybe it was coincidence, but every time Brian inhaled, it shifted toward the front of the room. It didn’t appear to be magic, not exactly, but still…