A Logical Magician

by Robert Weinberg

  "There's a group of supernatural living on the north side I visit when life on campus wears thin," said Simon. "They're cousins of mine. Maybe they know where we can find von Bern."

  "Fine," said Jack. "Time for us to get that cash and scoot."

  Twenty minutes later found them at the front entrance to the Hideaway Motel and Lounge. Located a mile off campus in one of the less respectable areas of the city, the bright red neon sign overhead proudly proclaimed, "Three Hour Rates, Nap Attacks, Adult Cable TV, Waterbeds."

  "I'm not terribly convinced about the wisdom of staying here," Jack said to Simon.

  "Nonsense," declared the changeling, grinning. "You're letting puritan morality blind your judgment. No one would ever think of looking for us in a place like this. It's one of the few spots in town we can rent a room without luggage. And the manager definitely guarantees the privacy of his guests."

  "Okay," said Jack reluctantly. Digging into his pockets, he pulled out a wad of cash, which he handed to Simon. "But you check in for the two of us. I can't."

  The Brit chuckled. "No problem. Stick around and I'll demonstrate the joys of shapeshifting."

  The changeling passed a hand over his face. As before, his features wavered, shifted, and reformed in the space of seconds. Jack gasped at the transformation. Simon's visage was gone, replaced by the snarling mug of Benny Anderson.

  "Like it?" growled Simon, his voice a perfect copy of the security chief's. "I've wanted to do Benny for a long time. He's got personality."

  Simon in the lead, they marched into the motel office. A heavyset woman, in her forties, with bleached blonde hair and black roots, sat at the desk, her attention riveted on a portable TV mounted on the rear wall.

  "Be withcha in a minutoo," she said in a shrill voice. "Soon as dey run a commershill."

  "Well," said Simon loudly, "hurry it up. I ain't waiting all bloody morning for some crap TV show."

  Smiling broadly, the clerk swiveled around and faced the changeling. A nametag on her blouse proclaimed her to be Mona. "Benny, my love," she said cheerfully, "I didn't expect you today. It ain't Tuesday."

  "No it ain't," said Simon, casting a surprised glance at Jack. He winked, then turned back to the clerk. "I had a bad week at the school. I needed a break today."

  "Sure," said Mona knowingly. She jerked her head at Jack. "Who's your friend?"

  "None of your friggin' business," said Simon. "We got some business to discuss. Private business."

  "My lips are sealed," said Mona. "You want me to round up a few of da girls? Cheri and Lola ain't busy this early in the morning. For the right price, they'd hop right on over."

  The clerk laughed coarsely. "You remember Cheri," she said, wiggling her hands six inches in front of her chest. "She's the one with the huge ..."

  "Not today," interrupted Simon hastily. "I don't want any visitors. Anybody asks, I'm not here and you never saw me."

  "Yeah, yeah," said Mona, "just like always. Your regular suite, 11-B, is free. Take that." She pushed across a room key. "I don't know nothing."

  "How much?" asked Simon.

  "Usual rate," said Mona, "minus the courtesy discount. You want me to put it on your tab?"

  Jack coughed loudly before Simon could answer. Using the security chief's identity was bad enough, but making him pay for it as well was too much.

  "Not today," said the changeling, sounding mildly disappointed. He pulled out Jack's roll of cash. "Write me out a bill, would you? In case I need a receipt for taxes."

  The clerk chuckled. "Entertaining clients, huh. Two C-notes will cover it."

  Simon peeled off ten twenties, paused, then added another. "Don't forget. I said Privacy, with a capital P."

  "Your wish is my command," said Mona, stuffing the extra twenty into a back pocket.

  She winked at Simon. "Enjoy yourself, boys," she said, turning back to the TV.

  Neither Jack nor Simon said a word until they reached room 11-B. Once inside, the changeling exploded with laughter.

  "You see the look she gave me?" he asked Jack, tears of mirth running down his cheeks. "Especially after I turned down the girls. She thinks you're my new boyfriend. Won't that do Anderson's reputation a world of good."

  "Huh," replied Jack. "Boyfriend? You lost me. Besides, she swore not to reveal a thing."

  "And the moon is made from green cheese," said Simon. "As soon as we leave today, you can bet your last dollar that Mona will be burning the phone lines with news that our buddy Benny has come out of the closet."

  "But, but," stuttered Jack, "that's despicable."

  "Welcome to the real world, compadre," said Simon. "You're incredibly naive for a graduate student. It must be that mathematics background."

  The changeling surveyed the motel room. A low whistle escaped his lips. "Don't worry too much about Anderson's reputation. Judging by this setup, a guilty conscience is the last thing on his mind."

  Leather and handcuffs dominated the suite's decor. An umbrella stand full of whips stood next to an oak bar stool with padded black leather seat. Several pairs of fuzzy white wrist and ankle restraints dangled from the headboard of the king-size bed. Looking up, Jack observed without much surprise that a huge mirror covered much of the ceiling.

  Gingerly, he sat on the edge of the bed. "Silk sheets," he declared. "Nice quality, too."

  "At two hundred bucks an afternoon, they should be," replied Simon, rummaging around behind the bar at the back of the room. "The refrigerator's well stocked. Want a beer? Or a bottle of champagne?"

  "Nothing," said Jack. "Just five or six hours of uninterrupted slumber."

  "There's a whirlpool tub in the bathroom," added Simon.

  "Nothing," said Jack, stretching out on the bed. Kicking off his shoes, he folded his arms behind his head. "Don't you need sleep?"

  "Very little," said Simon, munching on a bag of chips. "It's one of the benefits of not being mortal. We rarely sleep and when we do, we never dream."

  "To sleep, perchance to dream," murmured Jack wearily. Simon's words bothered him for some reason he could not fathom.

  "One of Willy's best lines," said the changeling. "He had us faeries in mind, of course, when he wrote it."

  Simon headed for the door. "I'll walk back to campus and see what's up." Anderson's features dissolved and reformed into the changeling's own. "To be on the safe side, I'll lock the door and take the key. You rest."

  "Rest," repeated Jack groggily. He was asleep before the faerie left the room.

  Chapter 18

  "HELLO, JACK," SAID the woman in red, her voice deep and seductive. "My name is Crystal."

  "Uh, hi," said Jack, frowning. Sitting in the midst of the black silk sheets, he had no memory of waking up. Or of letting anyone into his room. And Crystal was definitely not someone forgotten easily.

  She stood at the edge of the bed, dressed in a bright red sheath dress that could not be any tighter. A lycra knit, the outfit hugged her body like a second skin. A micro-mini, it barely covered me tops of her thighs. Long-sleeved and low-cut, the dress revealed an astonishing amount of cleavage. Crystal was extremely well endowed, and her taut nipples pressing against the thin material proclaimed she was not wearing a bra.

  Wavy red hair coiled down across her milk-white shoulders. She had an oval face with a pert nose, beautiful blue eyes, and the whitest teeth imaginable. Her full lips curled in a sensual smile.

  "Like what you see?" she asked in the same throaty tones. The sheer, undisguised desire in her voice set his whole body trembling. Crystal was too good to be real. It was then that Jack realized the truth.

  "I'm asleep," he said sadly. "You exist only in my dreams."

  Crystal nodded, setting her delightful breasts jiggling. Jack's mouth went dry. Dream or not, the girl was having an astonishing effect on his body.

  "That's me," she replied. "A dream girl. I'm merely a figment of your unconscious mind."

  "I never guessed my subconscious was so gifted." For the firs
t time since his dream began, he noted he was completely naked under the sheets. "Hooray for figments."

  "Mind if I make myself comfortable?" Crystal asked coyly. "These clothes are so... constricting."

  "Jack," whispered another woman's voice, so faint it could barely be heard. With a shake of his head, he banished the sound from his mind.

  "I hate to see a beautiful young lady suffer," he declared righteously. "Go ahead. Make my day."

  Reaching down, Crystal took hold of the bottom of her dress and pulled upward. In a matter of seconds, it was off. With a flip of the wrist, the dream girl tossed the outfit in the corner. Clad in the tiniest possible thong bikini, she ran her tongue slowly over her upper lip. "That feels a lot better. Thank you so much."

  "No," said Jack, his throat dry. "Thank you."

  Grinning mischievously, Crystal hooked her thumbs underneath the straps of her panties. "Last but not least," she said, giggling, and slid them down and off.

  Completely nude, she slid onto the bed. Despite his lack of clothing, Jack's temperature soared. Playfully, Crystal twirled a finger in the silk sheets.

  "I love being naked," she said, her gaze roaming across Jack's chest. "It makes me think wicked thoughts."

  "Uh, what kind of wicked thoughts?" asked Jack, gulping. He was not accustomed to aggressive women, even in his dreams.

  "You know," said Crystal, crawling closer. Her huge breasts swayed with her every motion. "The very wickedest ones."

  Reaching over, she cupped his chin with one of her hands. Crystal's skin burned hot against his flesh.

  "You're a handsome man, Jack. A very handsome, very desirable man."

  "Jack," whispered the same familiar voice in his mind, louder this time. Angrily, he forced it away. Crystal needed all of his attention. She demanded it.

  The dream girl was very close now. Her body exuded warmth. She radiated pure, unadulterated lust. Bending forward, she covered his mouth with hers.

  The kiss seared his lips. Crystal's tongue slipped between his teeth and darted about like a snake. One hand caressed his cheek while her other searched anxiously through the sheets. Crystal moaned passionately when she found what she wanted.

  "I need you, Jack," she whispered huskily, pushing him back on the bed. "I need you right now."

  Jack was in no position to argue. He had never felt so aroused in his entire life. Crystal's naked body covered him like a sheet. She straddled him, her thighs pressed against his, her breasts jammed to his chest, her hot lips inches from his own.

  "No more talk," she declared, her eyes glowing with passion. "I'm ready for action."

  "Protection, Jack," whispered the persistently annoying voice in his mind. "Protection."

  Hundreds of hours of TV ads, flyers, health lectures, and stem parental warnings worked their own sort of magic. "I need protection," muttered Jack. "Can't take chances with disease."

  Instinctively, he wriggled an arm free from Crystal's embrace and over to the nightstand. Groping about, his fingers touched the familiar metal foil of a condom. Jack howled in unexpected pain. It felt as if he had grabbed a live electrical wire.

  "Drop it," snarled Crystal, lips pulled back from her teeth in a grimace of hate. "It's not necessary."

  Jack squeezed his eyes shut. He never experienced pain before in his dreams. Nor was he able to pause and reflect on what was happening. Things were not as they seemed.

  Opening his eyes, he stared at Crystal's face. Even with her features contorted in anger, she was beautiful. Much too beautiful to be true. And, dream or not, she had no aura.

  Swinging up his arm, Jack poked the dream girl in the hip with the condom.

  With a shriek, Crystal sprang completely off the bed and onto the floor. Catlike, she landed on her feet. Eyes fixed on the foil package in Jack's hand, she hastily backed towards the door.

  "Stay away from me," she said, her voice ice cold and barely human. "I'll scream."

  "Go ahead," said Jack. "Scream all you want."

  He pinched the flesh of his neck. It hurt. "I'm awake," he declared, sighing. "This wasn't a dream. You're real. And working for Dietrich von Bern."

  "Crystal doesn't work for anybody," the woman declared angrily. "Word's out on the street. Ten thousand in gold for your head, attached or not. I saw you come in and thought I'd earn myself a quick bit of change."

  "What are you?" asked Jack, holding the condom in front of him like a sword.

  Crystal snapped her fingers. Instantly, she was fully clothed, the red dress smooth and unwrinkled against her skin. "Old habits are hard to break," she said, smiling. "Only now I get paid for sex. Consider yourself lucky you found the one object that destroys my spell. I'm a succubus, Jack."

  Snapping her fingers a second time, she vanished. Only a lingering trace of perfume indicated she had ever existed.

  "Thanks, Megan," murmured Jack, finally recognizing the voice who had brought an end to the seduction. "I think."

  He was sitting on the edge of the bed, wondering what would have occurred if Crystal hadn't been stopped, when a key grated in the lock. It was Simon.

  "Feeling better?" the changeling asked.

  "Yes and no," replied Jack.

  He related his encounter with the succubus. After he finished, Simon smiled and shook his head.

  "Yield yourself to a succubus and she controls your passions forever after," said the faerie. "According to most accounts, they possess insatiable sexual appetites. It would be a sweet life, my friend, but a very short one. You'd be dead within a week or less."

  "I can believe that," said Jack, remembering the look of raw passion in Crystal's eyes. "She mentioned ten thousand in gold for me dead or alive."

  "They're scared of you, Jack," said Simon. "Each time you evade a trap, it frightens them more. That's a nice-size treasure. It tempts me, and I'm on the side of the angels."

  "So much for my news," said Jack, starting to get dressed. "What's the scoop on campus?"

  "Nothing you want to hear," answered Simon. "The disaster at the math complex has the whole school buzzing. Nobody's saying much, but the word is out that Anderson blames you for the whole mess."

  "I was afraid of that," said Jack.

  "The hottest rumor circulating the cafeteria paints you as a major drug supplier for Chicago's south side. According to five different co-eds I spoke with, the fracas last night was the first battle between your gang and the Border Redcaps over disputed territory. Neat, huh?"

  "They pin the Kennedy assassination on me yet?" asked Jack.

  "No," answered Simon, "but give Anderson a chance. He's probably working on that theory right now."

  Jack shrugged his shoulders. "No use worrying about school when modern civilization is set to collapse. I'll deal with Benny after we've saved the world."

  "That sounds reasonable to me," said Simon. "You prepared to head uptown and meet the relatives?"

  Jack checked his watch. "It's close to two o'clock. Thank goodness Crystal allowed me to sleep a few hours before trying her tricks. I'm starved. What's in that refrigerator? No reason to leave before lunch. After all, we paid for it."

  Simon rummaged through the icebox. "Along with eight containers of whipped cream in various yummy flavors, three bottles of cheap champagne, and a six-pack of beer, there's hearty portions of roast beef, turkey, and cheese. Mona provides a nice spread for her clients."

  "Any bread?" asked Jack.

  "Yes," said the changeling. "A packaged rye. If you're willing to take a chance, I also see big bottles of Miracle Whip and mayo. Though who knows to what ungodly and immoral uses they've been subjected."

  Picking up a kitchen knife from the bar, Jack waved it in the air. "Lay on, Macduff, and damn'd be him that first cries 'Hold, enough!' "

  "I knew him, too," said Simon, stuffing a slice of cheese into his mouth. "Macduff, that is. Rather dull fellow, actually. But a good swordfighter—damned good."

  Chapter 19

  THEY DECIDED TO take a c
ab north. Jack experienced no second thoughts about the subway, once Simon described in garish detail a few of the supernatural monsters lurking in the dark tunnels. Worse things than will-o-the-wisps had crossed the ocean in the past few hundred years.

  "America's free and open," explained Simon as they waited outside the motel for their cab to arrive. "There's room to wander. Not much of that left in England. Or most of Europe, to be perfectly honest. A majority of supernatural were created in an age of rolling meadows and untamed forests. We've adapted pretty well to urban life, but we all need the woods. That's why so many of my kind live in Chicago and the Midwest, where nature is always less than an hour's ride away."

  "Considering the frequency of my encounters with your kith and kin," said Jack, waving at the taxi cruising towards them, "a hell of a lot of you must reside in the city."

  "A goodly number," said Simon with a sly smile as he climbed into the back seat of the taxi. "Several thousand at least. A vast majority of them come from the British Isles and Europe. As I mentioned with the banshees, Chicago's large Irish population drew many of us here. Not to mention the lake, and the wilderness so close to the city.

  "Other supernatural migrated to climates reminding them of home. I've been told that the Las Vegas area is filled with genies and other denizens of Arabic myth. There are Chinese dragons in California and dybbuks in the Jewish sections of New York City. Each kind travels to where it is most comfortable. The world is full of real magic, Jack. Unfortunately, you humans rarely notice it."

  Both of them settled comfortably in the cab. Simon gave the driver an address on Chicago's far northwest side. As the driver steered the taxi into traffic, Jack recalled an idea from the night before.

  "Head to the Loop first," he directed the cabbie. "Stop at the first ATM we spot. Afterward, I want to find a coin shop. The bigger the better."

  "Why a coin shop?" asked Simon.

  "Insurance," answered Jack. "I need to buy some insurance."