Wizard's Nocturne: The Sixth Jonathan Shade Novel

by Gary Jonas

  “She's rude.”

  “I rather like that about her,” I said and opened the door to Henry's office.

  “I'll speak to Henry about this. I don't like anyone disrespecting me.”

  “Might consider becoming a hermit,” Esther said.

  “I am a man of great importance,” Carlton said. His face turned red, and flecks of spittle shot from his mouth as he spoke.

  I placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him into Henry's office. “It's all right, Mr. Penick. Let's just go in here.”

  “Don't try to placate me, Mr. Easton.”

  “Calm down, Mr. Penick. Just place the tablets on the desk. I'll introduce you to the wonders of the temple tomorrow evening, and I'll speak to the women to build you up as a great leader and future star so they'll be eager to please.”

  The thought of women throwing themselves at him must have done the trick. I knew I'd best hire a few prostitutes to make sure he wouldn't get rejected.

  “Where is Henry?” Carlton asked. He set the tablets on the desk.

  “He's tending to a few personal affairs.”

  “Do you know this Shade person?”

  I nodded.

  “Why haven't you taken any security measures?”

  “You said it yourself, Mr. Penick. To attain immortality, one must first pass through the veil of death. Jonathan Shade murdering Henry is destiny. In order for Henry to be reborn, he must die. He understands that, but he has a few last I's to dot and T's to cross.”

  “I'd feel better if he were here.”

  “If who were here?” Henry asked as he walked into the office.

  Carlton spun and smiled. “It's good to see you, Henry,” he said.

  “It's been so very long since lunch,” I said.

  Henry didn't acknowledge my comment. He shook Carlton's hand. “Thank you for bringing the tablets. May I?” He gestured to the package.

  “Of course,” Carlton said and stepped back.

  Henry approached the desk. He opened a drawer, pulled out a large dagger, and sliced through the ropes.

  The canvas loosened but didn't fall away.

  Henry peeled the fabric down to reveal a stack of jade tablets. They were slightly brown with age, but the emerald color was unmistakable. The last time I'd seen them was in ancient Egypt when a different version of Winslow had them. Henry lightly ran his fingers over the tablets. He breathed in softly and held his hands on the sides with reverence. He lifted the first tablet.

  “They're heavier than they look,” he said.

  “Much,” Carlton said.

  Henry turned the tablet over, hefted it, and let a smile spread across his face. “They're beautiful.”

  “And priceless,” Carlton said.

  I kept my mouth shut. As an old man, I could probably get away with more smart-assed remarks, but I wanted Carlton to drop these off and leave. I didn't want to upset him any further. We were almost there, and I'd been waiting years for this moment to arrive. Things would speed up from here, but this needed to play out the way I planned. That meant it was time to shift tactics a bit.

  “Uncle Jon, have you arranged for Carlton's limousine?”

  I nodded. “Mr. Penick, the chauffeur is scheduled to pick you up tomorrow evening at eight.”

  Carlton pulled a cigarette case from his jacket and opened it. “I have my own driver,” he said, slipping a cigarette between his lips.

  “I'm sure you do, but tomorrow evening, you'll be riding with Mr. Goodman. I'll be at the temple to make introductions, and you'll be assigned a private room should you ever care to stay the night. I suspect you'll avail yourself of that room from time to time.”

  He lit the cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. “I suspect I shall,” he said and raised an eyebrow.

  Yeah, I'd need prostitutes for that first night. No doubt about it.

  “Thank you for bringing these by, Carlton,” Henry said.

  “You're welcome,” he said. “By the way, you should fire your secretary.”

  “Why would I do that?” Henry asked.

  “Because she's rude.”

  “Hmm,” Henry said. “I've never noticed that. I'll consider your suggestion. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to have a closer look at these tablets.”

  Carlton huffed.

  “Oh, Carlton?” Henry said, glancing at various tablets before setting them aside.

  Carlton stopped, drew on his cigarette, and slowly turned to face us. “Yes?”

  “I'll have Miss Carmichael type up some directions for you to follow once I'm gone.”

  “Directions?”

  Henry studied another tablet. “Yes, if I'm to die, I want to make sure certain preparations are complete for me to be reborn. You're wrong about clay and underground bunkers and such. If I'm reading this correctly, there may be a few challenges in front of me.”

  “You can read the tablets?”

  Henry gave him a smile. “Of course.”

  “But I thought they required an entire team to translate them?”

  “It would take an entire team.” He shrugged. “Or just me.”

  “But--”

  “That will be all, Carlton. I have some reading to do now. Uncle Jon, can you escort him out?”

  I walked over and moved to guide Carlton toward the door.

  “Don't touch me,” he said.

  “Don't be like that,” I said. “You're getting what you want.”

  He stormed out of the office, stopped in front of Esther's desk, and cleared his throat.

  “You might want to get that checked,” Esther said without looking up.

  He clenched his fists.

  “We appreciate you making the special trip, Mr. Penick,” I said, pushing him away from Esther's desk.

  He got in my face. “You tricked me. He can translate those tablets all by himself! How am I to be involved in it if he can do that?”

  I wasn't about to tell him I'd guided Henry in his areas of study to make certain he could read those tablets. “Don't worry. You have an important part to play.”

  “That limousine had better be on time, Mr. Easton.”

  “You'll find things to be very different a few days from now. Be patient, grasshopper.”

  “Grasshopper?”

  “The oxen are slow, but the earth is patient.”

  He looked confused. “What?”

  “Up is down and sideways is straight ahead.”

  “Are these clues?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Think on those. Step out into the hall with me for a moment, Mr. Penick.”

  The look of confusion gave way to one of distrust. “Why?”

  I gave him a wink and stepped out of the office.

  He stood there a moment but finally followed me into the hallway.

  I put an arm around his shoulders. “What I'm about to say has to stay between you and me.”

  He really looked distrustful now. “What's your game?” he asked.

  I looked around as though making certain no one was within hearing range. Then I pulled him close and lowered my voice. “Henry doesn't trust you.”

  “Nobody trusts me,” he said softly. “I'm well aware of that.”

  “I trust you,” I said.

  “You don't even like me.”

  “But I trust you to do what is in your self interest in every situation.”

  I almost lost him with that one, but curiosity got the better of him. “Go on,” he said.

  I smiled. I knew I had him where I wanted him. “We'll talk more of this after he's dead,” I said, cocking a thumb over my shoulder toward the office.

  “About what?”

  “You want real power,” I said.

  “I have real power.”

  “I mean real power, Mr. Penick. Not parlor tricks and minor magic. I mean the power to command respect. The power to take what you want and have others kneel down before you to bask in the glory of your presence.”

  For a moment I thought I was layi
ng it on too thick, but he kept lapping it up. His eyes gleamed.

  “Once Henry is dead and things move forward, there will be a power vacuum at the temple. I'm getting a bit long in the tooth to keep going. I've been trying to hide it from Henry, but you saw right through that. I don't have much gas left in the tank.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want my youth back.”

  He nodded. “And I want to keep mine.”

  “Our wants and needs are currently in alignment.” I walked him down to the elevators, but when he moved to push the button, I blocked his hand. “When Henry comes back from the dead, he's not going to be the same. He's going to be in a weakened state for a few months.”

  He dropped his hand and stepped back. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “He won't be the Henry we know. He'll be similar, but he won't achieve his full potential until that gestation period is up.”

  “And you want to kill him? I'll pass.” He reached for the button again.

  I fought to keep from rolling my eyes as I stepped between him and the elevator. “We can't kill him. He will have already died and come back. Nothing can kill him during that period, but he won't be able to function in the real world. He'll be deteriorating. His body will rot, and he's going to be reliant on us for everything until he comes into his full strength. That will come in a flash, and he'll be instantly restored. That's when he'll do the immortality ritual.”

  “All right, but I don't understand what that means to us.”

  “We're going to be his face to the world for five months. You and me. But mostly you, Mr. Penick. You have magic. As you yourself pointed out, I don't.”

  “But--”

  “You were right. Henry likes me. I raised him like a son, so he's kept me around because he takes pity on me. He tells people I have a hidden power, but you know better. You alone know I have nothing. The others took Henry at his word. You actually looked into me, and you had the power to see through the lie.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because once Henry is gone, we're going to have challenges and opportunities. I need you to know that I can be helpful. I know the temple. I know how things work. I might not be able to perform magic, but I can help you.”

  “I'm listening.”

  “If you keep me around, let me be part of this, I can advise you. I can help you take over the temple. And if we play our cards right, we can insert ourselves into the immortality ritual.”

  “And what about Henry?” Carlton asked.

  “If we have the power to be involved in the ritual, he'll have to look to us as equals.”

  “He doesn't think much of me, does he?”

  “No,” I said. “He thinks you're a pretender. A wannabe. A pretentious weasel who lucked into finding something with true power.”

  Esther opened the door. She stepped out into the hall and saw us near the elevator. “Mr. Easton,” she called. “Mr. Winslow would like to see you.”

  “I'll be right there, Miss Carmichael.” I lowered my voice and focused on Carlton. “Think about it. You know you have power, but you also know what you have is nothing compared to what you could have. You've achieved a lot. More than most, even. But,” I said and waited for him to fill the silence.

  “But what?” he asked.

  I pressed the elevator call button. “But you and I both know you've barely scratched the surface. You know that compared to a wizard on the level of Henry Winslow, you're an impostor.”

  “Again with the insults.”

  “I apologize for my honesty, but I'm running short on time. If you want to be seen as the real thing, I can help you. Remember that I guided Henry to greatness. I can do the same for you.”

  “You don't think Henry will restore your youth,” he said.

  The elevator opened and I stepped out of the way, but Carlton made no move to get into the car.

  “Henry is a great wizard,” I said, “but he thinks he's an impostor. As long as I'm around, he feels he won't be able to spread his wings. He still says things about how he hopes he'll be great one day. And he talks a good game, but he keeps telling me he can't help me reverse the aging process. Let me help you, and then you can help me.” The elevator doors closed while I was talking.

  He held his head high and pressed the elevator call button again. “I'll think about what you've said.” The doors opened and he stepped into the car. Right before the doors closed, he said, “But I make no promises.”

  As I walked back to the office, I couldn't keep the smile off my face. Carlton J. Penick suffered from impostor syndrome and craved validation. He'd dream tonight of being more. He'd dream of having someone who'd already guided one wizard to greatness standing in his corner, coaching him to success.

  He would also betray me as soon as he felt he was ready.

  Scorpions sting. It's what they do.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I'm running out of time,” Henry said as he stacked the tablets on his desk. We were in his office, working on our plan, but it was after four o'clock, and there was still more to do.

  “I know,” I said. “I wish I could do more to help.”

  “You've done everything you can. I want you to know that I appreciate it.”

  “I'm the one who appreciates it. I'm just trying to make things right.”

  He sat down and adjusted the tablets. “I understand that. You also need to know and accept that this may not work.”

  “It has to work.”

  Henry closed his eyes. “Uncle Jon, listen to me. I may never have another opportunity to say these things to you.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “We don't know that. Please let me talk.”

  It was his last hour as a living man. I forced myself to shut up, and I granted him the courtesy of listening to what he wanted to say.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You need to know that while I appreciate what you've done, it might not be enough, and you have to accept that.”

  I nodded.

  “May I see your earrings?” he asked.

  I started to question him, but I closed my mouth, removed the earrings, and passed them to him. He held them up to his ears. “Say something to me in Spanish,” he said.

  I was no longer fluent in Spanish, so I tossed the few swear words I could remember at him. He grinned. “These are the berries,” he said, reminding me of Esther.

  She sat at the desk in the other room, completely oblivious to what was happening in the office.

  “I'm still not sure how they managed to cast a spell to translate so many languages,” Henry said. “That's some seriously powerful magic packed into a couple of simple gold earrings.”

  He cradled them, breathed on them, and polished them with one of his sleeves.

  “I always wished I had a pair,” he said. “Especially when we went to Italy.”

  “Those were good times,” I said.

  “They were.” He held the earrings in his open palm. “Whenever I think of our travels, I remember how you kept me safe. How you talked in English but were understood by everyone, and how they spoke other languages, but you understood them. For the longest time, I thought you were the most powerful wizard on the planet.”

  I looked at the earrings in his hand. “You were so disappointed when I told you I had magical gadgets.”

  “I wanted them to be part of you rather than something you wore and used.”

  “I know.”

  “But I never stopped looking up to you.”

  My heart did a stutter step.

  He stood up and walked around the desk. He placed his hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “My biological father died before I was born,” he said. I felt a twinge of guilt because I was the one who murdered his father. That, however, was not something I ever shared with him.

  “I know,” I said, staring at the floor.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  I couldn't do it.

  He
shook me gently. “Look at me, Dad.”

  My heart stuttered again, and I looked into his eyes, feeling unworthy of the label of father. “I'm not--”

  “As far as I'm concerned, you are my father. And you need to know that I wouldn't trade you for my biological father for all the magic in the universe.”

  My eyes were misty.

  He pulled me into an embrace. “I didn't want you to wear those earrings because I want you to know you're my father, and you don't need any magical translation device to know that I'm telling you this directly.”

  “You're speaking English,” I said.

  He held the earrings next to my left ear and spoke into my right. The earrings translated the words, of course, but I heard different languages on one side while the same words echoed in English on the other. “Te amo, papá. Je t'aime, papa. Ich liebe dich, Papa. No matter what language I use, I want you to know they all translate to one thing: I love you, Dad.”

  He handed the earrings back to me.

  I had no words.

  “You need to go now, and you need to tell Esther to leave before they get here.”

  “We can still call this off,” I said. “I can stop him.”

  “You are him, Dad. This needs to play out. It's all right.”

  I opened my mouth and he smiled.

  “You don't have to say it,” he said. “I know you love me too. Now go while I'm brave enough to see this through.”

  “Thank you, Son,” I said.

  ***

  I watched myself get out of a checkered cab and hand a bill to the driver. I looked young and strong, and I wore a three-piece suit along with a fedora not too different from the one now resting on my eighty-five-year-old head. This was not the first time I'd watched a younger version of myself. I remembered a time in the future when I used my training in remote viewing and astral projection to send my spirit into my younger self to take over. This time I had to watch myself walk into a building to kill the man I thought of as my own son. It was best to push that thought aside, or I wouldn't be able to simply sit here and observe. But that was what I had to do. It was part of the plan.

  I took a sip of coffee and held the cup there while I watched my younger self from the cafe at the corner. I decided to think of him as Shade because as far as I was concerned, I was the real me and he was but a shadow. Yes, I know the logic falls apart because he was me before I was, but I had more years on him, and I'm the one recording this. And I damn sure had more experience with such things than he did.