Mages in Manhattan: A Tokyo Supernatural Novel

by Phil Gabriel

  Looking over at Jackie, I said, “I think we should stop seeing each other. I’m with someone else now.” I nodded at Kitty-Sue and Akiko.

  The tablet moved again, hovering over our group. I put my hand on my satchel; a long moment of tension stretched out, and then Jackie laughed.

  “You’re still a bastard,” she said. The shadow of the tablet moved away as the statue stood ponderously and moved back to the plinth.

  In a movement too fast for even Kitty-Sue to match, Jackie was in front of me, her hands on my shoulders, leaning in for a kiss. Her lips tasted like pennies but were softer than a promise.

  Breaking the kiss and leaning in close to my ear, she said, “Au revoir, Scott. I’m going to miss you. You’ll realize soon that things had to be this way.”

  In less than a blink, she was back in her original spot. My mind whirled, both from the kiss of Lady Liberty and those words. I hate hearing prophecy.

  Kitty-Sue had her arms crossed in anger and was staring daggers at Jackie.

  “I’m not the one you need to be jealous of, honey,” said Jackie as she faded away.

  Kitty-Sue tilted her head in puzzlement. Around us, the crowd of humans and the mundane Liberty Island started to come into view. Our interaction with Jackie was over.

  Twenty-One

  Tempted by Terri, the Tattoo Artist

  On the ride back to the mainland, Kitty-Sue was uncharacteristically silent, bent over her iPad as she texted away. After a few minutes, she looked up with an evil grin.

  “I’m going to make her pay,” she said, showing teeth.

  “Who, Alicia?” I responded. “Get in line. I get first dibs.”

  “No,” laughed Kitty-Sue, “your ex, that bitch Libby.”

  “You know we said ‘goodbye,’ right?” I said. “I don’t plan on seeing her again.” Aside from the fact that she was an immensely powerful mystical entity, she was another crazy ex I didn’t need in my life.

  “Ahem,” interjected Akiko politely. “She used the phrase ‘au revoir.’ That indicates she plans on seeing you again. If not, she would have used the term ‘adieu.’”

  We both turned and looked at Akiko, me with a “stop helping” expression and Kitty-Sue with a smile. In silent apology and acknowledgment of her status as my student, Akiko’s clothes shifted to her brown tunic and pants Padawan outfit.

  The ferry arrived at the port, breaking up the discussion. Kitty-Sue closed her iPad with a secret smile. She couldn’t really do anything to affect the Statue of Liberty, could she?

  As we were walking through Battery Park, on our way back to Central Park and another meditation session, Kitty-Sue touched my arm. “So, is it true?” she asked. “Does every woman who dates you end up trying to kill you?”

  “Jackie didn’t really try to kill me,” I answered.

  “OK,” said Kitty-Sue, making quote marks with her fingers, “ignoring the two-ton flyswatter, does every woman who dates you end up trying to ‘kill or enslave’ you?”

  Back at our favorite section of Central Park, I decided to call Frost to let him know our schedule. It was more to keep him from pestering me than out of respect. I could tell he was going to be rough to work with. If it wasn’t for the enormous amount of cash that the job represented, I would have happily headed back to Tokyo.

  “Selene Select Partners,” said Ms. Cappuccetto. “How may I help you?”

  “Hey, Red,” I responded, “glad to hear you’re still alive. Just wanted to let you know about our progress.”

  “What progress?” she asked in a harsh whisper. “You haven’t come in for a briefing; you haven’t set up the data link yet; you haven’t even proved that this link of yours will work.”

  “‘You never call, you never visit,’” I responded. “You sound like one of my exes. I didn’t know you missed me that much.” A look at Kitty-Sue’s jealous face showed she wasn’t happy with the teasing tone of the conversation. Back to business.

  “I just called to let you know we are progressing with the final stages of testing and plan on implementing the data link on the Exchange Data Center in the next day or so.”

  “But…but…but you can’t do that,” she stammered, still talking in a whisper to avoid her sharp-eared boss jumping in. “Mr. Frost wants you to complete the link here first. Then he will arrange access to the terminating side of the link.”

  “Hmm,” I said, “let’s see, Red. I complete the work there at Selene. Then depend on you to get me access to the other site. I complete the work there, it’s tested and shown to work; there’s some issue with access.” I had to talk around the subject, as even with magical dampers, the conversation could cause trouble with the SEC.

  “The access problem results in confinement,” I continued. “I get new accommodations, you get the link, the firm doesn’t have those pesky payments to make. Everyone’s happy.” They didn’t know I could escape almost any prison. A useful skill I picked up in Vietnam. But it would mean burning an identity I had grown to like, along with the life I had in Tokyo.

  “But he gave you his Oath,” she said. “He can’t break it.”

  “I prefer not to give him a chance,” I responded. “You’ll hear from me in about two or three days, and we can schedule the installation at your offices.”

  “He’s not going to like that,” said Ms. Cappuccetto with a tremor in her voice. Kitty-Sue, listening in, made the praying gesture, along with her big-eyed version of a pitiful expression.

  “Tell him there are technical reasons we have to do the job this way. The phase of the moon, etc.” Oh crap, the moon would be full in three days. No wonder everyone at Selene was at each other’s throats.

  “All right,” sighed Ms. Cappuccetto, “I’ll pass on your message.”

  Holding up a finger to stop me from hanging up, Kitty-Sue leaned closer to the phone. “Hey, Red?” she asked.

  “Yes, Ms...?” responded Ms. Cappuccetto, fishing for a name.

  “You know,” said Kitty-Sue with her sweetest expression, “I think before you pass on this message, you should give him a BJ. Then he might not react so badly.” In the background, Akiko stifled a giggle.

  Voice becoming brittle, Ms. Cappuccetto said, “I’m sure you’re an expert in these matters. Is that how you handle Dr. Freeman?”

  With a merry laugh, Kitty-Sue responded, “Well, I’ve drowned him, thrown knives at him, and left him with blue balls on several occasions. But never tried a BJ. He still keeps coming back for more.” Akiko took several steps away from us to laugh loudly.

  Sending a tingle down the connection we shared through the collar, I said, “I need to terminate this call before my reputation is damaged further.” With that I hung up.

  I glared at Kitty-Sue as she stood there with a smug smile on her face, hips and tail wiggling as she laughed. I couldn’t hold my glare and burst out in a laugh. Kitsune are tricksters; if you can’t handle a joke, don’t date one.

  I looked into her laughing eyes and desperately wanted to hug her. She bit her lower lip and looked at me through lowered lashes. I glanced over at my intangible student, Akiko. Demonstrating affection and touching in front of her seemed unkind, since she couldn’t join our hug.

  “Hey,” I said, “it’s after one. You guys hungry? Let’s get lunch.”

  A short while later, we were seated in a famous Times Square eatery, Tony’s di Napoli.

  The table was loaded with food.

  The staff looked askance at the empty spot we had insisted on for Akiko, but were mollified by the enormous amount of food we ordered. They probably thought we needed the extra space for plates.

  Of course, once Kitty-Sue set up a kitsune bubble around our table, we were ignored.

  “I loved Times Square in the ’90s,” I said, “the crowds, the hustle and bustle, the excitement.”

  “Wait,” said Kitty-Sue, “I read in an old book that Times Square in the nineties was full of crime.”

  “Oh,” I said, ignoring her dig about an
old book, “it was. Full of thieves, pickpockets, and hookers. My favorite kind of place.”

  “You must have felt right at home with the hookers,” commented Kitty-Sue.

  “You could say I did a lot of business with them,” I reminisced, thinking back to the old days.

  “Really,” said Kitty-Sue in a tight voice, her hand grasping the table knife in a white-knuckled grip. I felt a small shock through my mental link with Akiko. Glancing at her, she nodded at Kitty-Sue’s darkening expression.

  “Oh,” I said, “not like that. I helped a lot of people out. In fact, I was commended by the mayor for helping drop the crime rate.”

  Somewhat mollified, Kitty-Sue said, “So, what did you do? Put on pajamas with your underwear on the outside, and a mask to fight crime?”

  “A bit too public,” I said. “No. I would load a cheap wallet up with one hundred dollars in twenties, go out in the crowds, and wait for the pickpockets or thieves to take it away from me.”

  “Scott-Sensei,” said Akiko, “I don’t see how that would cut down on crime.”

  “There was a card in the wallet,” I said, “with an address for returning the wallet for a reward. On the back of the card was a note that keeping the money would result in losing a year of your life.”

  “So, if they kept the money, you sucked away a year of their lives?” said Akiko, making some gestures to see if she could recreate the spell.

  “Steal from a magician,” I quoted.

  “You have to take any Deal he makes,” concluded Kitty-Sue. “Just like you did to my sister.”

  “Sneaky, underhanded, diabolical,” said Kitty-Sue. Then she laughed. “I like it!” Her laugh abruptly cut off. “And the hookers?”

  “Oh, I used the life energy of the thieves to help them out,” I said, and sipped my excellent Valpolicella red. “Healing a fracture here, a bruise there, helping them kick drugs.” My only regret was that that I couldn’t do more.

  “And the mayor? What did he have to do with this?”

  “Mayor Giuliani,” I said. “He started the program. It was his idea.”

  “He has talent?” asked Kitty-Sue.

  “No.” I shook my head. “He’s mundane.”

  “But he believes in magic?” she asked.

  “Not really,” I said, pointing to each of us in turn. “We are touched by magic. We know the truth. Others, those who stay in contact with magic daily, end up believing. Like Ms. Cappuccetto.”

  The look on her face made me realize that she was a sore subject, so I quickly continued, “Mundanes, mmm, rearrange their memories to avoid thinking about magic. Mayor Giuliani still believes his Stop-and-Frisk policy was responsible for the drop in crime.”

  Akiko clapped in delight. “You had a secret identity and a life as a rich man. You roamed the city in the night. You worked to stop crime, unknown to the authorities. You’re my Batman!” Her school uniform morphed again, turning into a red tunic over a short-sleeved green shirt, with a yellow cape. To top it off, a diamond mask covered her eyes, looking quite strange under her red plastic-framed glasses.

  “I wasn’t a superhero,” I emphasized, “and you’re not Robin.” That kind of thinking would lead to trouble.

  With a pout, Akiko changed her uniform back to her school uniform. Then she smiled at Kitty-Sue as if to say not only kitsune could play practical jokes.

  Turning back to practical matters, Kitty-Sue asked, “What’s the plan now, boss?”

  Nodding at Akiko, I said, “We need more meditation time to build up our strength.” I held up my hands, palms forward, showing the burned traceries of my dragon blood inked tattoos. “And I really need to get my tattoos repaired.”

  “Where can you get that done, Scott-Sensei?” asked Akiko.

  “I know a practitioner,” I said, “a guy a little older than me, who did my original design. We’ll go visit him tonight.”

  “Wait,” said Kitty-Sue, “I know Libby dropped the magician ban today, but how could this guy have stayed all this time?”

  “He’s talented enough to see magic,” I said, “but doesn’t have the ability to weave spells. Such a low-level talent kept him off the coven’s radar.”

  I waved the waiter over and paid the bill. Then we headed to Central Park for another meditation session.

  Two hours of meditation took us until sunset, then a stop off in the hotel to freshen up.

  Just before heading out, Kitty-Sue said, “Boss, I don’t think I can come. I have to work on my project.”

  I thought for a moment. The coven’s ban was lifted, Frost had sworn not to harm us, and Akiko would be with me. The only dangers were the standard New York crimes. “No problem,” I said. “Akiko-san and I will do this. It will be a good opportunity to expand her knowledge.”

  When I gave the driver the address in the East Village, he turned around and looked at me. “You sure you want to go there at night?” he asked.

  “It’s OK,” I said, “I have friends waiting for me.”

  With a shrug, he took us to the address.

  We got out on an almost empty street, with several streetlights broken, leaving areas of darkness. Both Akiko and I could see perfectly well in the dark, so we ignored the gloom.

  The shop front looked much shabbier than I remembered. It looked like Fred had fallen on hard times. The plate glass window of the shop had an intricate design whose whorls spelled out the name of the shop.

  Akiko took a close look at the artwork and exclaimed, “Ohh, there’s some protection spells here!”

  “Yeah,” I said, “those are mine. That’s how I paid Fred back for the work he did.”

  The wards would have stopped any other ghost, but these were my wards, and I easily modified them to allow Akiko access.

  Walking through the door, we found a black haired young woman behind the counter. She was staring at some designs drawn in an artist’s pad, tapping a pencil against her teeth. She had a complex series of tattoos covering her bare arms. A midriff-baring shirt showed more tattoos on her flat stomach. Akiko drifted closer to examine the work as I said, “Hello, is Fred here today?”

  “There’s no Fred here, buddy,” she said. “You must have the wrong address.” She turned back to her design. She seemed unhappy with the drawings, staring angrily at the shaky lines. Then I noticed she had a slight tremor in her hands, a career-ending problem for any artist.

  I looked at the designs on the wall. They were by the same hand as in her sketchbook, proving them hers. However, the shaking hands had ruined her recent work. The shop showed signs of neglect, dust in the corners, tools in disarray. Not many customers want art done by someone with shaky hands.

  Akiko reached her spectral hand out and touched one of the designs on her upper back. “This is for good luck,” she said, then muttered, “Almost depleted.” Then she turned towards me and said, “This looks like your work!”

  The girl shivered at Akiko’s touch, shook her head, looked around with her gaze never resting on Akiko, and said, “Buddy, I don’t do newbies. Too much regret. If you don’t already have some work done, I don’t want to ink you.”

  My tattoos were invisible to mundane eyes, unless energized by magic. I held up the back of my hand and trickled power into my pentagram. All five colors glowed, contained by the black lines of the pentagram.

  Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. “I haven’t seen that since Grandpa died,” she said.

  Oh shit, time flies. “Your grandfather was named Fred? He owned this shop?”

  “Yeah,” she said, “was. He’s been gone for about five years.”

  Damn, old age had caught up with my tattoo artist. He was dead, and his granddaughter was mundane. There was no way I could get my tattoos repaired here.

  “Sorry to have bothered you,” I said, tilting my head at Akiko to indicate we should leave. “I don’t think you can help me.”

  I was at the door when the woman said, “Wait, wait, I want to see something!” Turning back, I sa
w her pull a pair of the strangest glasses ever made from beneath the counter. There were multiple mini-cameras attached to the frame, as well as a power cord trailing from the earpiece. They looked like the world’s worst virtual reality goggles.

  Donning the goggles, she said, “Damn, it works! You’ve got some intricate art.”

  As Akiko moved closer, the woman shook her head and pulled off the glasses. “Damn display just fuzzed out!” she said. “That always happens.”

  Technology and magic don’t mix well, unless you can use the shields I developed. I waved Akiko back. When she was ten feet away, I said, “OK, try it again.” She put the goggles back on as I concentrated on reducing my own magical emanations. “It’s working,” she said. “Not perfect, but I can see.”

  I laid my arms on the counter, palms up, so she could see the damaged sections. “Think you can re-ink my design?” I asked.

  Peering closely, she reached out and ran her fingers down the traces, unconsciously imitating Akiko’s examination of her. Her touch was surprising erotic, and I found myself looking down her top at her unburdened breasts. “Mmm,” she said, running her hands over my arms, “nice muscle tone, taut skin.” I smiled at her compliments, then she continued, “Bet it would take ink well.” She was admiring my quality as a canvas.

  “I have the equipment,” she said, tapping the goggles and gesturing to her rig, “but I don’t have the ink. Grandpa tried to teach me the formula, but I could never make it. The ingredients are too rare. Grandpa used the last batch on my tattoos.”

  Akiko noticed my gaze at the woman’s breasts and said, “Ahem, Scott-Sensei. Maybe we should look elsewhere.”