A Logical Magician

20

Ponderously, the trolls turned. The leader of the monsters grunted in surprise when he spotted the speaker. A tall, attractive black woman, she leaned casually against a solitary streetlight. Both of her hands loosely gripped a thick wooden walking staff. Capped with silver on each end, the stick was covered with unusual glyphs faintly visible in the moonlight. The woman smiled and nodded in a friendly fashion at Jack and Simon. She possessed no aura.

“Don’t bother me, girlie,” growled the troll leader, flexing his sausage-sized fingers threateningly. “This fight ain’t any concern of yours. Make trouble and you’ll be next.”

“Oh, my, my, my,” replied the mysterious woman, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “I do believe you intend to commit acts of violence towards my friends. Sorry, but I can’t permit that.”

“Friends?” whispered Jack to Simon. “You know this woman?”

Simon sighed deeply and smiled. “Indeed I do. She’s Cassandra Cole. At least, that’s the name she’s used for the past few hundred years. Deliverance is at hand, Jack. Think of her as the cavalry, Captain America, Hulk Hogan, and the Force combined into one. Cassandra makes Wonder Woman look like a Twinkie.”

Evidently, the trolls were not aware of Cassandra’s reputation. And they were too stupid to wonder why one woman risked taunting four of them. Their original quarry forgotten, the quartet spread out in a line facing their new enemy.

“You can’t permit it?” repeated the troll with the chain. He swung the metal links in an ever-widening circle over his head. The steel whistled with each rotation.

“She thinks she’s tough,” said the troll with the switchblade. With the click of a button, the knife opened, revealing an eight-inch blade.

“Real tough,” agreed the third troll, smashing together its brass-knuckled fists. Sparks flew as metal hit metal.

“She needs to be taught a lesson,” declared the leader of the monsters. “I hate uppity broads.”

“Should we try to help her?” Jack whispered urgently to Simon. “There’s four of them.”

“Relax,” said Simon. “Cassandra appear worried?”

“No, but…”

“Stop fretting and watch. The odds are unfair.” Simon chuckled. “But not the way you think.”

The trolls shuffled forward, growling threats. Cassandra waited patiently, feet planted solidly on the ground, hands spread about twelve inches apart from the center of her walking stick.

“Last chance,” she stated, sounding almost apologetic. “You goofballs turn around and depart, and I won’t hurt you. By Athena, I swear it.”

The troll leader snorted. “Screw Athena. Dumb bitch goddess.”

“Bad remark,” said Simon, grinning. “A very bad remark. It’s not a good idea to make Cassandra mad.”

“You dare insult the goddess,” said Cassandra, her voice flat and menacing. “For that you will suffer. Suffer dearly.”

Moving with blinding speed, Cassandra attacked. Like a serpent’s tongue, the bottom end of her walking stick lashed out and caught the lead troll in the crotch. Grunting in shock, he doubled over in pain. The grunt turned into a shriek as the stick’s top slammed into his mouth, jarring loose a handful of teeth.

Twirling on her toes like a ballet dancer, Cassandra thrust the walking stick directly into the path of the whirling chain. Jerking the wood staff at precisely the right instant, she yanked the metal links right out of the astonished troll’s grasp. Snarling, the monster lunged for its weapon, dangling only inches out of reach. With a snap of her wrists, Cassandra whipped the steel off her post and into the troll’s face. Bones crunched and blood spurted in fountains as the creature stumbled back, howling in surprise.

Bellowing in mindless fury, the troll with the knife swung the blade in a deadly arc aimed to slice the black woman in half. Effortlessly, Cassandra leaned out of the weapon’s path. Off balance, the slasher stumbled past her. Instantly, the wood staff hammered him across the back, driving him to the ground. As he fell, his arms tangled with the walking stick and wrenched it away from Cassandra. For an instant, she stood defenseless.

“Got you,” crowed the fourth troll, wrapping his huge arms around Cassandra’s chest. More cautious than his fellows, he had circled the black woman and attacked from the rear. Locking his hands together, he squeezed.

“Hai!” screamed Cassandra and drove her left heel into the troll’s left arch. The monster ground its teeth together in pain but refused to let go. Eyes squeezed shut with effort, the creature tightened its grip further.

Wedging her skull under the troll’s chin, Cassandra jerked her head back sharply. Blood bubbled out of the monster’s mouth, but it continued to squeeze.

“Enough of this shit,” Cassandra declared angrily. Hooking her own fingers together, she pulled the double fist up towards her breasts. Brute strength battled brute strength. And the troll lost.

The monster’s fingers popped apart and Cassandra dropped to the ground. Whirling around, she savagely swung a leg up in a short, lethal arc. Her toes sank deep into the troll’s midsection. Coughing blood, the creature collapsed.

The fourth troll’s heroics had given its comrades a chance to recover and regroup. Battered and bruised, they rushed Cassandra in a bunch.

Fists flashed faster than Jack could follow. But he had no doubts as to their accuracy. They sounded like jackhammers pounding pavement. The trio of trolls staggered out of the woman’s reach, whimpering in fear.

As if by magic, Cassandra once again held her wood walking stick. Her face grim, she advanced on the cowering skinheads.

“Insult the goddess, will you?” she declared angrily. Her staff crunched into the troll leader’s side. Ribs cracked. Again, the staff lashed out, catching the monster in the chest. As Cassandra raised her weapon a third time, the troll’s courage broke. With a shriek, it turned and ran.

“Don’t hurt us,” begged the two trolls still standing. “Don’t hurt us.”

“Get going, and take your buddy with you,” said Cassandra, pointing her staff at the unmoving fourth troll. “And if I see any of you goons in this neighborhood again, I won’t play so nice.”

“Yes, ma’am, yes, ma’am,” said the trolls. Gathering up their fallen comrade, they wobbled down the street as fast as they were able. The darkness swallowed them.

“Killing trolls is nearly impossible,” Cassandra remarked pleasantly, as if discussing the weather. “But they hate being roughed up. Especially when it’s done by a woman. Those four won’t be pestering the locals for the next few weeks.”

Tucking her walking stick under one arm, Cassandra linked her hands and cracked her knuckles. Brushing traces of dust from her clothing, she walked over to Jack and Simon.

“Well met, Simon Goodfellow,” she said with a smile. “Long time, no see.”

“Well met, Cassandra Cole,” answered Simon, bowing elegantly. Taking one of her hands in his, he kissed her fingertips. “It was in Paris, during the Revolution, I believe.”

“Ah yes,” she said. “If I recall, it was under remarkably similar circumstances. I saved your butt from a gang of marauding goblins.”

Eyes twinkling, she turned to Jack. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your mortal friend? After all, he’s the reason I’m here.”

“Sorry,” said Simon. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Cassandra Cole, say hello to Jack Collins. Jack, Cassandra. She’s an Amazon. Toughest babe I’ve ever met. Awfully good-looking for someone well over two thousand years old.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Jack. Up close, the black woman was incredibly attractive. She was also several inches taller than Jack, forcing him to look up when he spoke to her. “That was an impressive display of fighting.”

“Thanks,” said Cassandra, grinning. “Though it really wasn’t much. I’m out of shape. Life’s too easy in this century. Back in the Middle Ages, I blindfolded myself to fight troll gangs. It evened out the odds slightly. Not enough, though. Ogres, on the other hand, they were a challenge. Always could count on ogres for a good scuffle.”

“Uh, Cassandra,” said Simon, “knock it off. This isn’t the place for idle chatter. You know if my cousins escaped that fire the other night?”

“Burn a faerie?” laughed Cassandra. “Not likely. Lucky for you. They’re the ones who sent me searching for Collins. Them and Witch Hazel. I didn’t know you were along for the ride.”

“What are you talking about?” Jack asked. “I never met any of Simon’s relatives. What do they want with me? And how did you find me?”

Cassandra pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of a rear pocket. “Dietrich von Bern’s Border Redcaps started circulating these flyers throughout the supernatural community this morning. They’re printed in magic ink, of course, so humans can’t read them.”

“Jack’s equipped with rose-colored contact lenses,” said Simon, “given to him by Merlin the Magician.”

“Merlin?” said Cassandra. “That old goat is living in Chicago?”

“May I look at the paper, please?” asked Jack.

“Apologies,” said Cassandra. “Here.”

Jack winced as he studied the flyer. Beneath a large black-and-white photo of his face were the words, “Ten thousand in gold for the head of Jack Collins. No body necessary.” Under the headline was a paragraph in small print. Jack’s eyes widened in dismay as he silently read the information.

Clutching the paper tightly in one hand, he turned to Simon. “Listen to this,” he said softly. “ ‘Collins can be located and identified easily by the magical talisman known as the Universal Charge Card he carries with him at all times.’ ” His voice rose with each word. “Didn’t you realize the bad guys traced us because of that stupid charge card?”

“Uh, sorry,” said Simon. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

“I should have realized it immediately,” said Jack, “the way we kept bumping into supernatural villains whenever we turned. Merlin never had a chance to warn me. This damned card acts as a beacon, drawing enemies to me like flies to honey.”

“Speaking of von Bern and his cronies,” said Cassandra, “we can’t stand around gabbing all night. The darker it gets, the stronger the German becomes. I’m willing to fight anybody, but I’m no match for the Wild Huntsman and the Gabble Ratchets.”

“You have a car?” asked Jack, mental wheels turning.

“An old wreck, but it serves,” answered Cassandra. “I parked it a block from here. Didn’t want to warn the trolls.”

Jack refused to ask why. He suspected she had worried the monsters would have fled without a struggle.

Cruising in Cassandra’s rusty old Chevy, they located five ATMs in the next hour. Jack withdrew two thousand dollars from each machine, building up his bankroll substantially. Finally satisfied, Jack had the Amazon find a 7-Eleven.

While Simon and Cassandra drank Slurpees and reminisced about old times, Jack bought a package of envelopes, a roll of Scotch tape, a pen, and some stamps. Slipping the Universal Charge Card into one envelope, he folded it over and placed it in a second. Securely taping it shut, he addressed the outer envelope carefully and applied the correct postage.

“There’s a window open at the main post office in the Loop,” he told his friends. “We’ll mail the letter there. I can’t take the chance of a mailbox. Von Bern’s men would zero in on it before the next pickup.”

The letter deposited, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. “I mailed it to myself at my parents’ home in New Jersey. When any letter for me arrives there, my mother scratches out her address and scribbles down my forwarding address at school. Judging on past performances, the entire trip will take a week or more. That should provide us with a little breathing time to save the world.”

“Saving the world?” said Cassandra eagerly. “You mind telling me what this disaster is all about? After rescuing you from those trolls, I feel I’m entitled.”

“No argument from me,” said Jack, choosing his words carefully. “I appreciate all you’ve done. But this task is extremely dangerous. I don’t want you to feel obligated to help in any way.”

“You let me worry about danger, Collins,” said Cassandra. “It’s a long ride to Simon’s cousins. We’ve got plenty of time. Tell me the whole story. From the beginning.”