The New York Magician (13 page)

"Yes!" I struggled to my knees, still huddled over the drain, wishing I could rip the damn plate off. "Yes, I'm here!"

"Ah, Michel me boy, what have ye got yerself into now?"

"Look, I'll tell you all about it later, but can you get me
out of here?
" I lost control at the end, voice rising above sibilants into a yell. I froze, but nothing happened. Apparently nobody could hear, or if they did, nobody was surprised at my shouts.

"Stay where y'are, me boy. Be there in a few minutes."

"I'm not going anywhere, man." I sat back against the wall, weak with relief.

Three minutes later, I became aware that the floor was shaking slightly. I looked around, then listened, and heard a rumble. Realizing only then what Kevin's likely means of intervention was, I scuttled away from the drain into the opposite corner and huddled there, arms over my head as best I was able.

There was a sharp
BLANG
as the drain plate flew up from the floor, and a shower of sparks as it ricocheted from the concrete ceiling. I wasn't paying attention to that, though, because the geyser of water that had thrown it was rapidly eating its way outwards from the drain hole. I screamed in unfeigned terror and ducked under my arms again, but not before I saw the ceiling crumble under the onslaught and the jet of darkness smash through into an unknown space above.

There wasn't nearly as much water raining back down into the room as there should have been, though, and I peeked out from under my arms as the noise began to die down. The water jet had fallen away to a mere welling out from the hole, now a yard or more wide, and water was finally sloshing around my legs as the room began to fill. The ceiling showed a hole into darkness, and there was rubble around the corner. As I watched, a light began to glow from underneath the fountain in the corner, and then blinked, three times, regularly.

I didn't wait for the sylphs to come investigate. I threw myself over to the fountain, took three deep breaths, and forced my body down into the hole.

It was unbelievably cold.

Opening my eyes as soon as I'd dropped below the floor level and the current had stopped, I saw a green glow - and off to one side, a light. I swam feebly for it, the cold numbing my limbs which provided some relief from the pain. As I reached what appeared to be a wall with a hole broken through it, an arm shot through the hole, grabbed my shirt, and yanked me through and up.

I found myself chest-deep, standing next to what had to be Kevin, despite the plastic mask over his eyes; he was still in his neck-high waders. I grinned crazily at him. "You got my message."

He pulled the face shield up. "Oh, aye, boy, me boss did. Taste of blood is ever present, but not
that
blood."

"Let me guess. He knew my gran’mere too."

"Aye."

"Color me unsurprised. Listen, Kevin, no offense, but I'm hurt and I'm freezing, and if it's okay with you I'm going to just pass out again."

Kevin slapped my face, hard. I blinked. "Ow! Fuck!"

"Hold it together for a few minutes, lad, or we're not gettin' out. Here." He shoved what looked like a coverall at me, and I saw that it was a twin to his waders. He helped me stuff my body into them despite the shakes that began almost immediately. Once I was wearing them properly, I was still soaked inside them, but the waders were acting as a wetsuit, trapping my body heat. I could feel the shivers slowly fading. Kevin forced a flask against my face, and I reflexively swallowed what had to be Irish whiskey, gagging once.

Then he looked into my eyes, and apparently satisfied, nodded. "Okay, boy. Hold tight." With that, he waved his hand twice in a complex pattern before grabbing hold of me in a bear hug. The water we were standing in was suddenly in motion, sweeping us off our feet and along. The light, I could see now, was coming from Kevin's helmet, and it showed a crazily speeding view of concrete and stone, muck and algae as it rushed past us. The water we were floating in appeared to be stationary, but at the tunnel walls, there was a rumbling of hydrodynamics and friction. Every time we began to float towards the wall, we would hit a rippling turbulence that pushed us back into the center of the tunnel.

"Hell of a way to travel, Kevin." I had to shout to make myself heard.

"Beats walkin'!" he howled back. There was a massive grin on his face.

And after a few minutes, there was an opening up; we slowed, and with little fanfare tumbled out a broken-off grating into cold deep water. A few yards off I could see a red light glowing; Kevin struck out for it with powerful strokes, towing me with little difficulty. When we reached it, I could see it was his Zodiac, with an LED lantern affixed to the prow. Climbing in, he reached back and pulled me into the boat with little apparent effort, then fiddled with the engine until the familiar basso howl came forth. Seating himself in the chair, he spun the boat and we vanished into the night, sheltered by the mists above the waters.

I passed out again, with just enough warning to be peeved about it.

I woke again in a dim but thankfully not dark room. It was full of clutter unidentifiable in the low light; I was lying on a leather sofa with a heavy blanket - almost a tarpaulin - pulled up around me. The sofa was along a wall. Raising my head slightly - all I could manage - I could see several chairs, a low table, and then a cluttered mass of bookshelves marching off towards the other side of the space. I coughed, once.

There was a noise from past my feet. I rolled left and bent my neck down to look past them, since I couldn't manage to lift my head high enough to do so directly. There was a brighter rectangle indicating another room, and a large shape moving towards me holding something steaming. Kevin knelt by my head and held out one of the large mugs.

"Broth. Drink."

I freed my hands and reached for it, noticing the bandages on my chewed forearm. The mug was earthenware and warm; I clutched it to my cheek for a moment before hesitantly sipping. I coughed again, managing to keep the broth down, but barely; there was lemon and alcohol in there as well, beneath the beef bouillon. "Ugh. What is this?"

"Good for ye. Drink it, boy." There was a slurping noise as Kevin demonstrated with his own mug. I slowly worked my body backwards until I was braced against the sofa arm and could swallow more comfortably.

"Where are we?"

"Me place. One of 'em." Kevin drank again, gestured at me meaningfully with his mug. I sipped obediently. "Been here about a day."

"Do they know-"

"Nah. Wasn't anyone there when I bust ye out, looks like."

I thought of something and grimaced. "Damn it. Kevin, you didn't find my bandolier, did you?"

"Didn't grab nothin' but you, boy. Had to get dispensation to do that. Even if I coulda found the irons, probably wouldn't have been allowed."

"Allowed?"

"Me boss. He's not entirely happy about me intervenin'. I told him us humans tend to stick together; he's buyin' it for the moment. He's got nothin' against ye. But he won't intervene beyond that, an' I'm not to neither."

I sipped broth for a time. Then, "Thanks, Kevin."

The other waved it off. "Nah. Ye owe me one, is all."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Ain't sayin' I'm able t'answer."

"How did you know my grandmother?"

"Ahh." He smiled, creasing into a grin. "What a woman yer gran was, boy."

"Okay, that's already told me way more than I wanted to know about that part."

"Ha! Don't be a prude, boy. I knew her when she was a young thing, she was. Still all farm French and on fire, too." He whistled appreciatively. "Met her in London in late 'forty-ought. In a bomb shelter, as it turns out."

"Before she came here?"

"Aye. Knew her there for a few months, then she got her papers and shipped out of Liverpool for the U.S. of A. I wasn't to come here for, oh, twenty years or so. Found her again here in New York, mmm, maybe twenty years ago."

"Were you looking?"

"Nah. She found me, truth t' tell. I was workin' downtown at the seaport, and she walks up behind me an' slaps me on me bottom, bold as brass. 'Kevin, you whore,' she says 'fore I can turn around, 'what're you doing here doing honest work?'" He laughed, then drank again. "Hadn't ever expected to see her again, y'know?"

"Did you know my parents?"

"Nah, I never met 'em. They'd passed already, boy. Saw you a few times, she brought you by when you was a young 'un, down at South Street."

"I don't remember."

"Ye wouldn't. I was workin' for me boss by then, he wouldn't have let ye remember. He likes me face to remain me own, not show."

"Huh." I was feeling better; the broth and whatever was in it were performing alchemical miracles on my innards. I struggled sideways and sat up proper on the sofa, pulling the blanket to keep it around my shoulders. "I've been hearing, Kevin, from various people, that Gran'mere had a job I didn't know about."

"Job?" His voice sounded wary.

"More a contract position, really."

"Not sure I know what ye mean."

"Are you sure? I ask because it seems that I, now, hold the contract. But I'm not at all clear as to what the contract says."

He blew out a breath, slowly. "Shite." Another drink. "She hoped it'd miss you, boy. She tried t'keep you out of it."

"Well, she didn't manage." I was too weary to be angry. "Do you know what the hell I'm into?"

"Only generally. And-" he held up a hand as I opened my mouth- "I don't think I'm the best one t' tell ye about it."

"Shit, Kevin-"

"No, boy. You need the clear truth about this, not what-I've-heards. You need to go talk to the contract holder."

"Cthu-;"

"DON'T," he slashed a hand down, cutting me off, "say it. Not here."

I subsided.

"But, yes. Him. You need to find out what you're meant to be in for."

I finished my broth, then looked into the mug glumly. "He'll probably be pissed I lost the talisman, more than anything."

* * *

It took me a week to feel well enough to risk going home. Kevin's place, it turned out, was in Powell's Cove, Queens, underneath a brute of a transshipment warehouse. It must have been within a stone's throw of the water, because once or twice when he left I could faintly hear the rasp of the Zodiac. When I felt up to it, he brought me a trench coat which fit me and led me to the front of the building, where a prosaic yellow cab was waiting. I looked at him. "How'd you get a yellow out here?"

He grinned back. "I know his mum." I laughed, shook his hand, and got in. The driver nodded at me and took off through Whitestone, making for the Cross Island Parkway, the Grand Central Parkway, and finally Manhattan Island. I tried to pay him when we pulled up outside my building an hour later, but he wouldn't take my money, saying Kevin had already paid. I thanked him and walked slowly into my lobby.

There didn't seem to be anything out of place, but I rode the elevator up to my apartment in a state of quivering tension. Reaching my floor, I pulled out my keys (thankful that Shu's helpers hadn't emptied my pockets, as well as taking my coat and bandolier) and unlocked my door. Pushing it open, I strode in and came face to face with a figure frozen in the act of walking across my foyer. We both stopped, and looked at each other in surprise.

"Oh," Hapy said.

* * *

Msamaki, it turned out, had family in town. Not knowing what else to do, he'd given Hapy my address. Hapy had shown up, not found me, but found his way into my apartment. How, I didn't ask. You don't ask Elders things like that; it's impolite to bring up the mortal technicalities and they get a pained look and change the subject.

He'd been staying there, though. I was fortunate; as the Flood God, he was a pretty fair housekeeper. He hadn't raided the fridge, of course, but the place looked clean enough to eat off the floor. I thought about it then decided not to ask.

After getting the story from him, and assuring him that I wasn't angry nor was I about to throw him out, I went into my bedroom (he'd been using the guest room, which spoke well for his anthropomorphic manners) and went to the ceiling of the closet. Pulling down the rubber ceiling mat, I extracted my spare Desert Eagle, six magazines, two stun grenades, the collapsible baton, and a leather thong which held a small cylindrical pouch. Adding my second-favorite trench coat from its hangar, I cannoned back up, standing in front of the mirror to ensure I didn't clank inappropriately. The thong looped around my chest, holding the pouch just over my breastbone. I laid my hand over it, once; felt the surge of power answer me, and stood for a few moments before the mirror, the mixed energies flooding through my abused frame. When I was finished, I wasn't healed, but I was a damn sight closer to it than I had been a moment before - as much as I dared. I looked in the mirror, and recognized the expression on my face.

Fury.

I closed the trench coat, pulled a fedora off the dresser (dark gray) and jammed it down onto my head as I strode out into the living room. Hapy was sitting at the table, engrossed with the newspaper; he looked up as I came out. His face brightened. "Sam ... " he frowned. "Spade? Sam Spade?"

I looked into the hall mirror. The comparison wasn't too bad. I nodded, once; archetypes are power, and I'd take whatever I could get, wherever I got it. "Yeah, Hapy. Sam Spade." I pulled the Desert Eagle, held a magazine in my hand and pressed it to the pouch on my chest that held a small quantity of the Waters of Life and Death, saved back for need such as this. The bullets sang softly in their strait prison of steel and brass, their blunt shapes sponging up the power, the mere jacketed lead shifting imperceptibly.

Could you see them, there, inside their oblong case, they were glowing in the colors outside the rainbow. I grinned at Hapy, with whatever on my face causing him to lean back, and slid the magazine into the big pistol's grip, rubbing it with my palm to ensure it was seated. I holstered the gun.

Then I angled my hat, swung a one-finger salute at Hapy, still sitting at the table in somewhat nervous confusion, and slid out the door.