Dark Wizard's Case

by Kirill Klevanski

  “The Mask?”

  “Yes.”

  Alex thought for a few seconds. He had little to say, and he preferred to keep what he knew to himself.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Are we playing a game of ask-me-raccoon, Major?”

  “Ask-me-raccoon? Why raccoon?” Chon Sook asked with a frown.

  “So, we are playing,” Alex sighed sadly.

  “Do you really miss your prison games that badly, Mr. Dumsky?”

  That time it was difficult not to pick up on the hint and threat.

  Actually, there wasn’t anything Alex missed about prison. And he had no desire to return in the near future.

  “I have no idea what I can tell you about the Mask.”

  “No idea? That’s an awfully feeble answer from someone who smashed up half the Financial District, inflicting damage estimated at sixty-nine million credits. And for the record, Mr. Dumsky, that number is going to fuck the Guards as well as you personally. Our budget is strained enough as it is.”

  “Some good news, at least,” Doom breathed. The next moment he realized he’d said that out loud.

  “Not really, Alexander. Not really. No performance bonuses for our whole department this quarter. And that’s why Duncan is eating fast food right now even though he hates it.”

  “Bitch.”

  “I couldn’t have picked a better word.” The major’s eyes flashed with a predatory and playful glimmer, something like the way cats look when they’re playing with a mouse. “Thank Lieutenant Gribovsky for his slip of the tongue. If not for it, you’d owe the city a much bigger sum right now.”

  Alex closed his eyes and breathed a bit calmer. They have me cornered. The Syndicate. The Guards. The Mask. The students. Miss Perriot with her fit booty and—

  Wait, what does the esper’s booty have to do with anything?

  “I really can’t be any more specific about the Mask, Major. I can only say what you already know. He’s a black wizard. He’s strong enough to bend a demon from a second-hundred legion to his will. And finally, he—”

  “…can use demon magic,” the major finished. “Just like you.”

  Doom tensed up. He was already tense, but now his butt seemed to shrink to the size of an atom, sharp enough to tear through the silk sheet it was nested on.

  “Inmates are fully examined before they’re placed in their cell.” As the major said that, Alex recalled the humiliating procedure of medical tubes and pumps being applied to his body any way the doctor’s apparently perverted mind thought up. “In your case, the abnormality they identified went from dusty archive to dusty archive until it ended up in our department.”

  “Ah. Now I see why you got me out.”

  “It takes one to know one, Mr. Dumsky,” the major replied. “We’ve been after the Mask for a long time. You’re the ace up our sleeve. Your recent performance was bright enough to shut up all the skeptics, but I don’t think the effect will be a lasting one. So, think again before you answer: did you notice anything unusual about the Mask or what he did?”

  The major’s eyes held Alex’s for a while until the latter was forced to look away at the window.

  The view really was amazing, and so much more pleasing to the eye than the blind stone walls of the underground jail.

  “I really wish I had.”

  The major squinted, then stood with a clap of his hands. Stepping over to the door, he took a suit in a black case that sported the VersaceMagus logo off the coat rack, baring two more hangers with clothes hiding behind it. One had torn leather jeans, another a black hoodie and a biker jacket.

  “What the…?”

  “Suits like this aren’t for liars,” the major declared in an affected parental voice. “But I can chalk your failure to recognize the particular style of Professor Raewsky and Follen School up to your head injury. The other clothes are courtesy of Gribovsky. Return them to him later. Get better, Alexander.”

  A moment before leaving, the major turned.

  “By the way, the first round of the tournament starts in two hours. I’d hurry over to First Magic if I were you. The trip is going to take much longer on foot now that you’re without your bike. Anyway, Mr. Dumsky, we’ll speak soon.”

  And Alex was left alone in the ward.

  “Fuck…”

  “A new word,” came the reply from the other side of the door.

  Chapter 55

  Leaving the subway at University Square station (such an apropos name), Alex remembered exactly why he hated Myers City’s underground transportation system so much. He never used it unless he absolutely had to.

  For example, to escape cops with a stolen cat tucked into his belt, yelling and scratching. The pictures were probably still stored at the Abyss.

  Any journey where he was liable to be shoved by a troll, have his toes stepped on by an orc, and get dressed down by an arrogant Light Elf was a test for his self-control. Like any black wizard, Alex was extremely sensitive to any intrusion into his personal space.

  Shaking off the subway touch (literal and figurative alike), Doom rolled his eyes, stepping in a puddle to shatter his reflection.

  The Guards.

  The fact that they knew about Follen contrasted with the dossier Chon Sook had read him at their first meeting. So that had to have been info they’d obtained recently, digging in several directions at once. That did them credit as an organization.

  But the Mask (and whoever was hiding beneath it) was Alex’s prey and Alex’s alone. He wasn’t about to share his personal vendetta with anyone, even if that meant walking around in rags like the ones he was wearing for a while.

  Pulling out his longstanding pack of cigarettes and slapping a cancer stick out, Doom caught it in the air with his teeth and inhaled deeply.

  The cloud of smoke he blew out expanded gradually until it enveloped half the street. Some defensive artifacts worked in there, flashing magic over their owners. Car engines started, brakes screeched, and horns honked.

  Some stronger wizards started to dispel the magic smoke. But the delay gave Alex enough time to elbow his way through the line of shocked and coughing people.

  The first tour of the tournament (yes, an awkward and redundant way of putting it) was played on campus. Since the pick of the planet’s next magic generation was participating in the competition, there were all kinds of visitors. All the checkpoints around campus had been opened, with eight more security guards hired to supplement Ban. But even nine gates and nine guards were apparently too few to handle such a plentiful—and extremely diverse—flow of visitors.

  From citizens of Atlantis to Middle Easterners, everyone was there in their national dress. That even included guests from the lands of magic races. Alex spotted representatives of Schambal and Eldorado. VIP visitors were funneled through a separate entrance, and their well-coordinated response to his magic smoke…

  “Professor…Dumsky…” Covering his mouth with a handkerchief as he coughed and wheezed, Ban rummaged around under the counter with his other hand to retrieve a gas mask and put it on. He was a really weak wizard. “You’re just in time for the start.”

  “Great,” Doom said with a salute. Given how Ban’s voice sounded coming through the mask, he could have made a Luke-I-am-your-father joke, but…Star War jokes in the second half of the 21st century? Seriously?

  “Please show your ID card, Professor Dumsky.” No. It was getting really, really difficult for Alex to hold it in. Ban sounded exactly like Darth Vader in his prime.

  Patting his jacket pockets, Doom realized he had none of his personal belongings except for his underwear, the cigarette pack, and the ring on his finger. Nothing else had made it to Dethrail.

  Giving it a second thought, he didn’t actually own anything else. But it didn’t really matter. The elves totally deserved his escape through that wall, the literal wall he’d melted to make a way out. The bunnies would have made him fill out paperwork or something otherwise.


  “Ban, my good man. It’s me. Alex Doom.”

  “Your ID, Professor. Please,” Ban said in a sad and weary voice. “That’s the rule for today. You shouldn’t have pulled that trick with the smoke.”

  Fire engine sirens grew louder as they approached.

  “No one knows it was me,” Doom said, pointing up at the sky.

  “I saw you,” Ban insisted.

  “Then you can let me in, too.”

  “I saw the smoke, but I haven’t seen your ID, Professor Dumsky.”

  Alex sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. Did he say the day couldn’t get any worse? It looked like he was wrong.

  “The professor’s with me,” a familiar voice came from inside the dense smoke. Out into the campus fence lights stepped Miss Perriot, charming as ever in her high boots, red dress, and denim jacket.

  What else did the day have in store for Alex?

  She handed her ID card to Ban. He pressed a button. The artifacts supporting the defensive magic seal between the adamantius rods of the fence faded with a clanging sound, as did the seal itself.

  “Let’s go, Professor.” The esper entered the campus first, peach mane waving. Alex followed. Her hair smelled pleasant and fruity.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “No problem,” Perriot replied.

  Their brief conversation was full of tension despite ending before it really began. Finding themselves on the neat but crowded campus footpaths, they headed for Magic Range One, which served as a miniature arena.

  The actual arena was a giant sports complex on the distant outskirts of Myers City. It had been constructed long before to host the first Olympic Games in Atlantis.

  Just as epically ambitious as any other construction project on the island, the Arena turned out to be the world’s largest stadium, accommodating up to 300,000 people. It was to be used for the tournament’s official opening and closing ceremonies as well as the Grand Finale. What was taking place then was just a qualifying round attended only by the biggest fans, the families of the contestants, VIPs, and other types commonly seen at similar events.

  Alex inhaled.

  “Do you remember our deal, Professor?”

  “If that’s your way of getting me to ask you out, Miss Perriot, it’s not worth the effort. Even if you were the last living creature in the universe, I’d rather devour you than date you.”

  “If you ever ask me out, Professor, I’ll call the police and have you arrested for trying to drive me crazy.”

  “Drive you crazy? That fast? Huh. I’ve always been good with women, but not that good. I must’ve unlocked a new lev—”

  The esper stopped abruptly and wheeled around to face Alex. She was so close that Doom could…no, not feel her breath on his face. He wasn’t that romantic.

  Instead, he felt her breasts, so appetizing, almost touch his chest.

  “If anything happens to them,” she squinted, the ends of her peach hair stirring, “even a single bruise or scratch…I’ll run you into the ground, Professor.”

  Doom gave a whistle and puffed out a cloud of smoke. Right into her face.

  “You like dead bodies that much?”

  The esper turned silently, the hem of her dress flapping at the abrupt move, and walked toward the range. The commotion in its overcrowded stands was clearly visible.

  Doom looked down at the puddle at his feet…and recoiled at his reflection.

  He looked really, really bad. He definitely needed a shave, a drink, and a fuck.

  Preferably in the reverse order.

  Chapter 56

  Walking beneath the archway toward the footpaths leading to the stands, Alex again appreciated the event’s scale and…how down to earth it was. There were no designated VIP boxes or lengthy welcome speeches. It took Doom a while to find where the rector was.

  Only a closer look at a distant sector that was guarded and less crowded than the rest showed Alex where to find Julio Lupen. Wearing another sweat suit, with a gold chain around his neck, he was having a casual conversation with…

  Alex cursed, turning away abruptly and walking over to the umbrella-covered spots for the coaches. They were literal beach umbrellas over plastic benches lining the running track.

  Under the gray, gloomy sky looming over Myers City, the umbrellas looked pretty out of place.

  “Damn,” Doom hissed.

  He could still feel the stare of those black eyes with white pupils. The eyes of Maeve, Queen Mab’s daughter. The Queen of the Winter Court seldom left her palace, unlike her daughter, who was a dark faerie ambassador. She represented their people at major events.

  Alex had once tried to kill Maeve.

  And bed her.

  All in the same night.

  It was complicated.

  Anyway, being recognized by Maeve was the last thing he wanted right then. Even though the memory of her amazing body and satin skin made his pants tighter in the groin.

  “Professor!”

  Alex sighed and, using a very simple spell to make sure the faerie gave him nothing more than a passing glance, nodded to his students.

  The blonde waving at him was the only one of the five contestants who looked great in the tournament uniform, an extremely clingy one-piece.

  Seeing her in it, Doom started to wonder if Maeve’s body was actually all that beautiful. Particularly when the heiress to one of the wealthiest clans around bent over slightly to retrieve a water bottle from the cooler.

  Damn pants.

  They’re kids, Alex! Sure, you’re a total jerk, but you’re no pedophile.

  Cooling himself down with those thoughts, Doom ducked under the umbrella (could they have put it any lower?), snatched the unopened bottle from Eleonora, and, saluting her, drained it in a single gulp.

  The cold soda descended into a stomach that had been empty for several days, threatening to start the Second Magic War. Fortunately, his gut flora prevailed.

  He tossed the bottle precisely at…

  “Hey!”

  …the head of a youngster from the rival Magic Engineering team. Then Alex snapped his fingers in front of Travis’ face.

  “Want to get cursed?”

  “What do you…” The redhead with the dean’s name didn’t get it right away but, seeing the lilac flashes on Doom’s fingertips, finally grasped the problem. “Oh, sure. Please sit down, Professor.”

  “I never say thank you,” Alex replied, sprawling out on the hard plastic surface and lighting another cigarette. “I’m starving. What’s the age limit here?”

  All five, including Jackie Chan, stared at him with round eyes. Was it the clothes the major had given him? Doom wasn’t actually sure that Versace case had contained a suit and not just some filling.

  “W-w-why do you as-s-sk?” The stammering blonde took a step back, the ends of her hair sparking slightly.

  Women and their hair. You can read a woman’s life in her hair, practically like an open book. Just like you can read a man’s life in his hands.

  “I’m a black wizard.” Alex leaned back and crossed a heel over his knee, making himself as comfortable as he possibly could. It didn’t matter that Mara and Jing, who were sitting on either side of him, had to shrink to fit into the remaining space. “It’s almost five o’clock. Tea time for some, and for me time to gobble down some little kids. Are there any on the menu?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, the five students (who’d had several practice sessions with Alex and were somewhat used to his way of talking) gave some restrained, wary giggles. They sounded like they still weren’t sure if he was joking or not.

  “Eighteen plus,” Jet Li replied briefly.

  “Thank you, Ben Lam.” Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve always looked like the smartest one to me. Well, if it’s eighteen plus, then—”

  “What’s going on here?”

  Alex looked up to see Lebenstein looming over him. That time, the short, plump man was wearing…a robe. A wizard
ry robe over his expensive business suit.

  Hogwarts cosplay? Or a mental inpatient they’re giving some free time?

  “If your eyes are suddenly failing, Mr. Lebenstein, I don’t mind filling you in—it’s the first tour of the tournament. Ugh, that sounds really awkward.”

  The Theory and Magical Calculation Dean’s superpower—the ability to change the color of his face—never ceased to amuse Alex. The transitions from light green to crimson…

  “I’m perfectly aware of the event the university is currently hosting!” It was a shame the pleasantly deep, bass voice was such a poor match to his appearance. But no one is perfect. Except for black wizards, of course.

  “That ask-me-raccoon game is popular again?”

  “What?? What raccoon game?”

  “Exactly.” With a sad sigh, Doom shook his head dismally. “So, it is back.”

  Lebenstain scowled, puffing almost to the point of exploding…no, that was just spitting rain. Not drops of blood from the vein throbbing on the dean’s temple.

  “Stop clowning around, Dumsky!”

  “Professor Dumsky,” Alex corrected. “They’re inseparable. Like Captain Jack Sparrow.”

  “What sparrow captain? First a raccoon, now a sparrow. Are you coked up?”

  “Yuck, what ugly slang. No, I’m not high,” Alex said with a dashing smile.

  He heard giggles behind his back. They weren’t wary that time, instead almost as obtrusive as the dean was, barely passed off as coughing.

  Lebenstein apparently noticed them, too, as he straightened up and tried to calm down.

  “Professor Dumsky, I’m fully aware of the tournament and its purpose. However much I am disgusted by the idea of the next generation seeing magic through the lens of violence rather than science or art, I’m still able to appreciate its benefits for liaisons between Atlantis and Old Earth as well as between humans and other races. But what I’m not able to appreciate is you, Professor, enrolling the B-52 group in the contest without my knowledge or approval. That contradicts both the spirit of our department and our principles of subordination. And what concerns me most is that I didn’t even find that out from a written application. Instead, I had to be informed by Miss Perriot at the last minute. That’s why I’m asking…no, I’m demanding an explanation. Now.”