The big man patted the hood of an '88 Oldsmobile affectionately. "Any idea what you and the little lady are in the market for?' he asked Jack.
"We're not married," said Jack hurriedly, seeing the dangerous look on Cassandra's face. "Miss Cole and I are merely very good friends."
"My apologies," said Ortigara, wincing as his gaze touched Jack's bleached hair. "It was just that the two of you made such a nice couple, I assumed..."
"A natural mistake," said Jack, cutting off the car salesman before Cassandra exploded. "Actually, I thought I would let my cat make the final decision."
"Your cat?" said Ortigara, the words choking in his throat. His face turned bright crimson. "Isn't that sort of unusual?"
"Is it?" asked Cassandra, her voice cold enough to freeze water to ice. "In our religion, we believe in allowing our pets to select our means of transportation. If they're happy, then we're happy. You're not implying that there's something odd about our beliefs, are you?"
"No, no," said Ortigara anxiously. Sylvester, getting into the spirit of things, rubbed up against Abe's leg, meowing loudly.
Reflexively, the car dealer bent down to scratch the black cat's neck. Instantly, Sylvester bounded away, leaving Abe in a half-crouch, staring at a frowning Cassandra.
"I meant no disrespect," he declared nervously as he straightened. "I would never insult anyone's religion. Honest Abe believes totally in the sanctity of a man's—or woman's—personal beliefs. No matter how strange they appear to be to outsiders."
"How comforting," said Jack, trying to hide a smile. "We're Polymaths, by the way, in case you were wondering."
"Polymaths," repeated the car dealer. "How fascinating."
Desperately, Honest Abe glanced in the direction of his office. "Oh, it looks like they're trying to get my attention back at the main building. Must be someone extremely important on the phone. Dam business can't function with me away from my desk very long. Why don't you folks look around in the meantime? I'll return shortly, or send one of my best sales associates to help you. Nice meeting you."
"Honest" Abe bustled off as fast as possible without running. More than once he peered anxiously over his shoulder, as if reassuring himself he was not being followed. He disappeared into his office, leaving Jack and company alone on the lot.
"Polymaths?" said Cassandra, shaking her head in disbelief. "Where do they worship?"
"At the Temple of Universal Knowledge," said Jack, straight-faced. "At least, that's what I would have told Abe if he had asked."
"Well, he's gone," said Sylvester, arching his back. "And I doubt he'll return."
"Just as well," said Jack. "Dealing with used car salesmen makes me nervous."
He stared at the cat. "We drove by three other lots before you made us stop at this one. Obviously, it wasn't due to Honest Abe's reputation. What's special here?"
"I sensed magic," said Sylvester. "It's located somewhere on this lot. Come on, follow me."
Twenty minutes and several bruised knees and shins later, they stood before Sylvester's find. The cat conveniently ignored the fact that it could travel where Jack and Cassandra could not. During the course of its search, it led them on a convoluted search over the entire lot. More than once, it darted beneath a row of cars, leaving it to the humans to climb over or squeeze through. Covered with sweat and grime, Jack was not pleased when he saw their final destination.
"Is this your idea of a joke?" he asked angrily. "A car from the year I was born?"
The cat had come to rest in front of a 1966 Buick Electra. A huge, four-door sedan with light blue interior, it reminded Jack of the massive vehicles driven in old gangster flicks. Considering its age, the car was in remarkably good condition. Not a scratch marred its finish.
Sylvester sat perched on the top of the hood, licking its paws. It appeared undisturbed by Jack's complaint. "Don't judge a book by its cover," it replied.
Cassandra walked around the car, knocking on its side with one fist. "Body is still in good shape. This car's built like a tank."
"We're not looking for a tank," said Jack testily. "You wanted something fast, remember?"
Cassandra popped open the auto's hood, sending Sylvester leaping for the roof. "Mother Athena," she declared, whistling in surprise. "That's a big engine."
Even Jack was impressed. The motor was massive. Curiosity finally overcoming his annoyance, he read the spec sheet glued to the car's rear window.
"It's 425 cubic inches," he said, "complete with heavy-duty manifold, four-barrel carburetor, dual exhausts, the works. Even with the pollution safeguards added, this baby goes from zero to sixty in seven seconds. If we can believe Honest Abe."
Cassandra joined in. She ran a finger down the car's features. "Power steering, power brakes, power windows—name it, this car's equipped with it." She shook her head. "No one dares build gas guzzlers like this dreadnought anymore. Look at that mileage report—eight to ten miles per gallon in the city, fifteen in the country. The damn thing can pass anything on the road... except a gas station. No wonder it requires a twenty-five-gallon tank."
"Those figures can't be true," said Jack. "Maybe they were once upon a time, but all those added pollution devices cut down on engine efficiency."
"Not for this car," said Sylvester unexpectedly. "It's been dwarf repaired. That's why it looks so good. And runs so well."
"Really," said Cassandra. "The Little Men? Now that makes a difference."
"Why?" asked Jack. "Care to fill me in on the secret?"
"Dwarfs are the master craftsmen of the supernatural world," said Cassandra. "When they fix an item, it runs better than new. If a dwarf repaired this car, then I'm willing to believe any of Honest Abe's claims about it. Though I doubt he knows the real truth about the vehicle. Sylvester, you're sure?"
"Positive," said the cat. "Dwarfs have a distinct odor you don't forget. Especially if you possess a cat's nose. Call me a dog and spit on me twice if I'm wrong."
"That's good enough for me," said Cassandra. "What about you, Jack?"
"How can I argue with a cat reciting a line like that?" said Jack. "Who cares that this baby has 180,000 miles on it? If you two are convinced, I won't utter another word. Especially since Cassandra does all the driving. From the looks of things, this beauty has been sitting here for a while. Why don't we find Honest Abe and see if he's willing to bargain?"
He was. An hour later, paperwork completed and cash paid, they drove off in their new chariot. Cassandra's wreck, destined for the scrap heap, they left with Ortigara. Jack prayed they weren't on track for the same fate.
Chapter 28
ROGER FROWNED. HE did not like what he was being told. "You want how many chickens?"
"Fifty," said the Lord of the Lions, staring at its fingers for an instant as if verifying the number. Mathematics was not one of its skills. "I want them delivered to my chamber in the basement tonight."
"That's a hell of a lot of birds," said Roger. "Buying them alive isn't going to be easy. You're sure you need that many?"
"Great sorcery requires much blood," said the demigod. "Since we are taking no chances, the fowls provide the essential life. If you prefer, five young women, virgins if possible, would serve equally well. Or a dozen head of cattle."
"I think we'll stick with chickens," said Roger. A vision of him escorting a cow through his house and into the basement flashed through his mind, giving him an instant headache. "Virgins are in short supply these days in California. And cattle are equally scarce."
"As you wish," said the Crouching One. It rubbed its small hands together in anticipation. "I have not attempted this spell in thousands of years. It will be illuminating to learn if it still works."
"What if it doesn't?" asked Roger, thinking of his own bad fortune. If only he hadn't been so greedy. But moderation had , never been one of his vices.
"Most likely, you would experience a wonderful opportunity to discover if your religion's faith in an afterlife is justified," said th
e Lord of the Lions. Blue sparks flickered beneath its ears. "Beyond that, the resultant psychic backlash would level most of the city, giving you plenty of company on your journey."
"Are you positive this sacrifice is necessary?" Roger asked, feeling the noose tightening around his neck. "Wouldn't a phone call to von Bern prove as effective?"
"Afraid?" asked the Crouching One, a slight smile touching its thin lips. "How typical of you mortals. Frightened of the last and greatest adventure. Have no fear. Your life is in no danger. At least, not from this spell."
The demigod's eyes glowed inhumanly bright. "You yourself pointed out to me how terribly inadequate the Huntsman's performance has been. He is an incompetent fool. Our mutual enemy, Mr. Collins, has outwitted von Bern with appalling regularity. I am forced to agree with you that unless I intervene on a more direct level, the great sacrifice will fail. That is the reason for this summoning tonight."
"A summoning?" asked Roger. "Similar to the one I used to raise you? I wasn't aware such spells required blood."
"Great beasts roam the boundaries of the outer darkness," said the Lord of the Lions mysteriously. "Lesser races feared them, often worshipped them as minor deities. They are extremely powerful but extremely stupid. Such monsters cannot be lured to this plane of existence without warm life. They feed on the living, animals as well as men. With such an ally, the Huntsman cannot lose. No ordinary human can defeat one of the Great Beasts of Eternal Chaos."
Roger quickly turned away from the demigod. Drawing in a deep breath, he repressed the reckless laughter that welled up within him. No matter what happened, the Lord of the Lions never learned from its mistakes. Despite its incredible powers, the entity was no smarter than the lowest demon from the pit. The demigod continued to underestimate its opposition. It refused to change its tactics. Roger doubted that it could.
"I better make a few phone calls," he declared, "if you expect that many chickens by nightfall. It shouldn't be too difficult. Explaining the birds to the neighbors is the real trick."
"Perhaps it is time I taught you the spell of forgetfulness," declared the Lion God. "It is a simple magic that even humans can master. Using it, you should have no further problems with the overly cautious."
Inwardly, Roger exulted. One spell would lead to another. And another. And on and on, until he knew enough to reverse this infernal bondage and put the insufferable demigod in its proper place. Whistling, he headed for the phone.
Unfortunately, Roger also habitually underestimated his enemies. If he thought to glance around as he departed, he would have seen that the Lord of the Lions was smiling. It was not a nice smile. It was definitely not a reassuring one. But Roger didn't turn. He never did.
Chapter 29
SEVEN O'CLOCK THAT evening saw Jack and the others ready for their return to the shopping mall. Cassandra slid into the driver's seat with Jack on the passenger side. In the back seat, Simon and an unexpected guest relaxed on the thick cushions.
Shortly after dinner, Sylvester the Cat had announced he wanted to accompany them on their mission. Recognizing that the familiar's special powers might prove useful, Jack raised no objections. He was willing to accept all the help he could get, human or not.
"Be careful," warned Hazel, as they wedged Cassandra's walking stick over the seats. "Von Bern is not without resources. Nor is the Huntsman a fool. It's very possible he knows you plan to return to the mall this night. Until you know his weakness, he cannot be defeated."
"I'm painfully aware of that fact," replied Jack sourly.
He had spent the entire day trying to deduce the symbolism of cold steel without the least hint of success. Everything hinged on his discovering the right answer, which put enough pressure on him to make logical thought nearly impossible. Jack suspected that the truth was obvious, if he could somehow link together the correct facts. Deciding what mattered was the trick.
"Sylvester, you keep an eye on them," continued Hazel. The cat nodded solemnly. "Drive safe."
Cassandra stepped on the gas pedal and steered the big car onto the road. "I love this monster," she declared, patting the dashboard. "It reminds me of my favorite war chariot. Has the same nice solid feel."
"What's the plan?" asked Simon.
Jack shrugged. "Same as before. You and I enter the mall, leaving Cassandra and Sylvester to guard the car. There shouldn't be any trouble with security tonight, considering my new appearance, but to stay on the safe side, Cassandra can double park by the entrance. The two of us head over to the nymphs' garden. April promised to meet us by the water fountain. We talk to January, learn what she heard, and leave. If we have an extra second, we buy Hazel a box of Frango Mints from Fields."
"That doesn't give us much time for socializing," said Simon. "I was hoping to visit a bit with the nymphs."
"Control your base instincts, faerie," declared Cassandra, an edge to her voice. "There's a proper time and place for all things, but tonight is definitely not the night for carnal pleasures."
"I can't help being true to my nature," said Simon. "Like my friend Willy once said, 'The fault, dear Cassandra, lies not in the stars, but in ourselves.' It's as true for supernatural as it is for humans. More so, actually."
"You constantly refer to Shakespeare," said Jack, seeking to stop the two from arguing. "You really knew him? In the flesh?"
"Certainly," said Simon, sounding quite smug. "We Goodfellows were very close with the Bard of Avon."
He raised a fist with his first and second fingers upright and pressed tightly together, "Willy and me," he declared. "Friends forever. I taught him everything he knew about the fey folk."
"Everything?" repeated Sylvester unexpectedly. The cat reared up on all four legs and looked Simon directly in the eyes. "That's not what I heard."
"Well, perhaps I exaggerated a mite," said the changeling hastily. "Puck was on slightly better terms with Mr. Shakespeare than I."
"Oh," said Cassandra, chuckling. "How quickly the tune changes. Now, it's Mr. Shakespeare. Did you really meet him, Simon? Truthfully."
"I swear it," said Simon. "My cousin, Robin, provided the playwright with information for several of his productions. You know the ones. Anyway, Puck took me along several times to the shows. Afterward, Shakespeare always asked us our honest opinion of the work. A true craftsman, he valued a straightforward answer. Which is what we gave him."
"Hazel liked Shakespeare, too," said Sylvester. "The old girl loved Macbeth. She quoted the three witches' lines for weeks. 'Double double, toil and trouble,' and so on, endlessly repeated, until I started going crazy." He rolled his green eyes. "And it takes a lot to undermine a cat's patience."
"Wait a minute," said Jack. "In all the fantasy novels I read, the supernatural characters try extremely hard to stay out of the limelight. They shun famous people and never, ever interfere with human affairs. The last thing any of them want to do is attract attention. That's not what I'm hearing from you guys."
"That's because we're real and not made up," said Simon. "Don't make the mistake and think we hobnob with every celebrity who comes along. Or that we reveal our true nature other than to a few trustworthy souls like yourself. That would be stupid. But we enjoy mingling with the best and brightest. Your race created us with those desires. It's in our blood. If we wanted to hide in the woods out of sight, we wouldn't have worked so hard learning how to blend in with mankind."
"Don't forget that over the centuries, we've become experts at masquerading as normal humans," said Cassandra. "I've taught six different movie stars self-defense. Simon's studied with three Pulitzer Prize winners. None of them guessed our secret. Combine our talent with modern man's skepticism of anything he can't taste, touch or feel, and we're home free. The world is filled with magic, Jack. You humans just refuse to admit it."
"Watch the Grammy awards now that you're able to spot auras," said Simon. "You might be surprised."
"Better yet," said Sylvester, "turn on MTV."
"Enough chatt
er," said Cassandra, a hard edge back in her voice. "There's the mall up ahead. Jack, you and Simon get ready. I'll drop you off at the same door as yesterday. From what you told me, it's the closest one to the nymphs' oasis. When you've finished talking to Jan, return there and I'll pick you up. If there's any sign of trouble, I'll send Sylvester into the mall with a warning. Got it?"
"Got it," said Jack. He peered out the car window. "It looks pretty quiet out there."
"The exact same words King Priam uttered while his people pulled the wooden horse into Troy," said Cassandra.
"How cheering," said Jack, and then they were there.
Doors opened, and he and Simon headed for the entrance to the mall. As the Buick disappeared into the darkness, Jack's hands unconsciously clenched into fists. A premonition of impending danger raced through his mind. He had a feeling that things were not going to proceed as planned tonight. Which, on a moment's reflection, seemed to be the story of his life lately.
Chapter 30
JANUARY'S LONG TANGLED hair was white as snow, and her deep eyes were an icy blue. Tall and busty, she looked more like a Norse goddess than a Greek nymph. But she was anything but frigid in her greeting, insisting on a very long, lingering kiss with both Simon and Jack.
"Humans express their desires so much better than the fey folk," she explained, reluctantly releasing Jack from her embrace. "Kissing you is a tremendously rewarding experience."
"Glad to oblige," said Jack, trying to catch his breath. "The feeling is mutual."
Fortunately for his presence of mind, all of the mall nymphs were fully dressed tonight, though their skin-tight skirts and stretch knit tops left little to the imagination. Jack wasn't sure if the girls looked sexier with clothes or without them.
"Cassandra's waiting at the car, Jack," declared Simon impatiently, catching Jack completely by surprise. Simon was the last one he expected to be in a hurry. Then he realized the changeling was only being true to his nature. Closing his mind to temptation, Jack concentrated on their reason for seeing the nymphs.
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