A Logical Magician

25

Nearly two hours later. Jack and Simon stumbled out into the momentarily deserted corridor. “See you tomorrow,” April’s voice echoed after them.

Gasping, Jack grabbed the water fountain and gulped down what seemed like a gallon of water. Afterward, he splashed several handfuls of the liquid in his face.

“Are they always so… enthusiastic?” he finally managed to ask his companion.

“They are incredibly vigorous,” said Simon, sticking his face directly into the stream of cold water. “Remarkable girls, especially when you consider they’ve been around for thousands of years.”

“Remarkable,” agreed Jack, straightening his clothes. “We should move. Cassandra’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long.”

Simon shrugged. “She knows the nymphs’ tastes too well to worry. Though, if I was you, I wouldn’t mention what went on in the courtyard to her. Ever.”

“It’s our secret,” said Jack. “Uh, Simon. The games the nymphs played with us… and that King Arthur nonsense Hazel mentioned this morning…?”

“Pretty much the same,” said Simon. “You understand why Merlin hushed up the whole incident?”

“You bet,” said Jack. “My lips are sealed. Permanently. Let’s hit those department stores. I definitely have to buy some new clothes. My wardrobe needs replacing. April’s nails ripped the back of my shirt to shreds.”

Jack soon discovered his bizarre appearance proved no deterrent to his spending money. Though most of the sales people eyed the floor when talking to him, they all readily accepted his cash. Five shirts, three pair of jeans, and several packages of underwear and socks swiftly filled his shopping bags.

“That should do it,” he decided, stuffing the loose change back into his pockets. Located a few stores away was the exit to the parking lot. “This has been a very satisfying day. I won’t forget our visit to the mall quickly.”

Glancing about, his gaze settled for an instant on a Radio Shack a dozen feet away. A window display of radios and CD players caught his attention. A memory from breakfast floated through his mind. Hazel’s portable radio needed batteries. “One last errand,” he told Simon, handing him the bags of clothing. “It won’t take a minute.”

Stepping into the store, Jack looked around for electrical supplies. Not finding them, he strolled further back into the shop. And found his path blocked by a huge exhibit advertising the chain’s new CD-ROM computer.

“Nice system,” said Jack, momentarily distracted by the hardware. He bent over and ran his fingers over the computer keyboard, calling up the tutorial. As he did so, a ripple of cold fire crossed his body.

“Bad move,” he said to himself and glanced at his reflection in the monitor. His normal, non-purple features glared out from the glass. “I’m not sure why, but that was awfully dumb, Jack,”

Anxiously, he backed out of the store and into the mall. Simon’s eyes bulged when the changeling saw him.

“The spell wore off,” said the faerie softly as Jack clutched one of the shopping bags up to his face.

“Right you are,” said Jack, his voice muffled by the heavy paper. “Maybe our luck will hold and no one will notice. Head for the car.”

“I’ll steer,” said Simon, linking arms with Jack. “Ready?”

“Ready,” said Jack and, without thinking, stepped forward—directly into the path of a tiny, white-haired old lady. The collision sent them both sprawling to the floor.

“I’m terribly sorry,” said Jack, scrambling to his feet. Bending over, he offered the woman his hand. “The packages I was holding blocked my view.”

“No problem,” said the old lady, peering curiously at Jack’s face. “My, you look so familiar. Do I know you?”

Before Jack could answer, the woman nodded as if answering her own question. “Help, help!” she shrieked in a voice louder than most air-raid sirens. “Murderer!”

“What the hell?” swore Jack, straightening in shock. All over the mall, people were staring at him and the little old lady at his feet. Out of the corner of an eye, Jack spotted a mall security officer hurrying towards them.

“Drug lord! Drug lord!” the white-haired woman screamed. “Help, help, help!”

“We’re trapped,” wailed Simon.

“Not yet,” said Jack. Reaching with both hands into his pockets, he pulled out all of his loose cash. Though he had spent freely, there were still hundreds of dollars left.

“Free money!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, and threw the bills into the air. “Free money!”

The mall erupted like a volcano. Crowds appeared out of nowhere. People shot out of store fronts as if propelled by cannons. Men and women, children and adults all raced madly for the cash cascading onto the pavement.

“Free money!” Jack shouted again, and tossed the rest of his reserve high over his head.

No one was immune to the siren song. Girls and boys battled over loose change. Men and women crawled on the floor, grabbing at any paper that moved. Even the little white-haired old lady shut up and lunged for a twenty floating past her face. A dozen yards away, the security guard struggled desperately with a teenager for a fifty. No one noticed Jack and Simon sprinting for the exit.

“Never underestimate the power of cold cash,” declared Jack as they burst through the doors and into the parking lot “And, in a showdown between greed and justice, take greed every time. It’s a sure bet.”

“There’s Cassandra,” said Simon, pointing down a row of parked cars.

“Get that beater started!” he shouted to the Amazon. “Security’s after us!”

The old wreck’s motor roared to life as Jack and Simon ripped open the back doors and hurled themselves inside. Not waiting for an explanation, Cassandra backed the auto into the aisle. Foot pressed down on the accelerator, she sent the car roaring past the long row of parked cars, heading for the street.

Ahead of them, sirens wailed. Red lights flashing, a mall patrol car roared into view. Tires squealing, the vehicle sped swiftly towards the end of the aisle, seeking to cut off their escape route.

“No way they’re stopping me,” declared Cassandra savagely, and she slammed the gas pedal to the floor. “Hang on.”

Engine bellowing in pain, black smoke cascading from its tailpipe, the old car thundered forward. Ahead of them, the police car screeched to a halt, blocking all but a few feet of the aisle. Two security officers jumped out of the vehicle, took one frightened look at the massive wreck heading straight at their car, and ran for cover.

“Cowards,” sneered Cassandra, and she slammed both feet onto the brake, spinning the steering wheel at the same time. Rubber burned as the auto wrenched sideways. Spinning furiously, it smashed sideways into the side of the security vehicle. The police car groaned in pain as the force of the collision hurled it backwards. Metal screeched against metal as for one instant the two cars remained locked in a steel embrace. Then Cassandra’s foot hit the accelerator and sent her car howling through the enlarged opening into the street.

“Easy as pie,” she said, laughing merrily. “You boys survive okay?”

“Physically or mentally?” asked Jack, trying to force his fists to unclench. “What about pursuit?”

“Real cops will be after us in a few minutes,” said Cassandra. “Not to worry. There’s a haunted cul-de-sac up ahead. It’s invisible to mere mortals. We can hide there till nightfall.”

“Haunted?” said Jack. By now, nothing surprised him. “What about ghosts?”

“Spirits know better than to fool with an Amazon, Jack,” said Cassandra, “They’ll stay out of sight. Damned spooks are afraid of their own shadows. If they had them.”

Jack sighed. Merlin hadn’t lied. Magic was everywhere.

“One minor problem,” said Cassandra, as she steered the car onto a dirt road that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Up ahead, he spotted a rickety old wood bridge crossing a moss-covered stream. The haunted cul-de-sac.

“What’s that?” asked Jack, envisioning goblins, demons, perhaps even a dragon or two waiting for them in the shadows.

“We need a new car. This old heap is shot. It’s fine for smashing police cars. But won’t do us much good if von Bern shows up. We’ll need some real fire under the hood to give that limo of his a race.”

“Even after throwing money to the crowd, I have plenty of cash left back at Hazel’s trailer,” said Jack. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll go automobile shopping. Then, hopefully, at night, January will reveal the location of von Bern’s hideout.”

He clenched his hands together in frustration. “We’re running out of time. Even if we discover where the German has his prisoners, I don’t know how to rescue them. And there are only four more nights till Beltane.”