Modern Sorcery: A Jonathan Shade Novel

by Gary Jonas

  I led Naomi into my condo. It was pretty plain. The furniture was just serviceable. I didn’t have any pictures on the walls. Nothing fancy anywhere. I had some weapons in a chest, but other than that, there was not much that would say anything about me. That wasn’t so my enemies couldn’t get a handle on me or anything stupid like that. It was more that the place never felt like home. It was a temporary place to hang my hat, figuratively speaking, of course, because I don’t have a hat to hang.

  Naomi looked around. “Nothing has changed here since my last visit.”

  “I bought new towels.”

  She turned around to face me, but I couldn’t read her look. The fact was I’d moved in as a temporary thing until we could buy a house together and get married. We never got married, but the temporary housing kinda became permanent. I kept signing one-year leases, thinking I’d finally figure out where I wanted to live and start building a life, meet a nice girl, and settle down. But that was all bullshit. I’m sure some folks would say I’d never decorated or moved because I was still in a holding pattern, waiting for Naomi to come back to me. That was probably true, but it was okay because now she stood here with me again. And although things weren’t going quite the way I’d like, maybe I could find a way to stack the deck and deal out a hand I could use to win her back.

  “I’ll throw some fresh sheets on the bed for you. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “I’ll take the couch. I don’t want to impose.”

  “My place, my rules. You take the bed. End of discussion.”

  She shrugged.

  “If you want something to drink, I have some tea in the fridge. Might be a couple of beers there too. If you want something to eat, you’re out of luck. I haven’t been to the grocery store in a few weeks.”

  “I’ll just take some water.”

  I started toward the kitchen, but Naomi shook her head.

  “I can get it,” she said.

  I watched her move into the kitchen and thought about what might have been had we never broken up. With her, I could have been happy. I always hoped I could make her happy too. I realized I was staring at her, so I pointed down the hall. “I’ll get those sheets.”

  When I changed the sheets, I tucked the picture of myself with Naomi during happier times into the drawer of the nightstand. She walked in as I closed the drawer.

  “I’m sure you’re exhausted,” I said.

  She set the water on the dresser and moved toward me. She looked into my eyes then down at the floor. “I keep thinking I should call my mom,” she said. “Then I remember she’s gone. I always called her before I went to bed so we could share what happened that day.”

  She leaned into me and laid her head on my chest. I put my arms around her and felt her body tremble as she tried to hold back the tears.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone. She’ll never see me get married. She’ll never know her grandchildren.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. I just held her. When my parents died, I hated that people kept shoveling platitudes at me. I just held her and thought, Don’t worry. I’m here for you. But I remained silent and let her cry.

  After a time, she pulled away. “I feel lost,” she said.

  “It’s all right.”

  She nodded and kissed me. She parted my lips with her tongue, and I pulled away from her. I wanted her but this was not the right time.

  I nodded toward the living room. “I’ll be right out there.”

  She gave me a sad nod.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The morning rush at Denny’s was in full swing when we arrived. Kelly wanted to bring her sword into the restaurant.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I asked.

  “Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

  “They won’t allow you to bring in a sword.”

  “Who’s going to stop me?”

  She had a point. “You won’t need it.”

  “I could say it’s a utensil. Their steaks are tough, and this baby will cut through anything.”

  “Don’t order a steak.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s Denny’s.”

  She hesitated then tucked the sword between her seat and the center console. “You’re right. I won’t need it.” She got out of the vehicle and started toward the restaurant.

  To look at her, you’d think she didn’t have a care in the world, but I knew she took note of everything, and if anything seemed off, she’d notice.

  “Shall we?” I said to Naomi.

  We all entered the restaurant. As we passed the cash register, Naomi pointed out Cantrell. Kelly nodded, took a toothpick from the dispenser, and stuck it in her mouth. She rolled it from side to side as we approached Cantrell’s booth.

  Cantrell was a stocky man in blue jeans and a cowboy shirt. He wore Tony Lama boots and had a ten-gallon Stetson balanced between the windowsill and the napkin holder. He had a mustache and sideburns that would have made Elvis Presley jealous. I guessed him to be in his early fifties. He rose when he saw Naomi. “Howdy, sweetheart.”

  Naomi hugged him then turned to us. “Frank, this is Jonathan Shade and his partner, Kelly Chan.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” He motioned for us to have a seat.

  Naomi slid into the booth, and I sat beside her. Kelly grabbed a chair from a nearby table, flipped it around so the back faced the booth, and straddled it. I knew she hated to have her back to the rest of the room, but she either trusted me to watch out for her, or more likely, she could use the window reflection to see any danger while she scanned the parking lot.

  “You two protecting her?” Cantrell asked.

  Kelly flipped the toothpick over with her tongue and kept staring out the window.

  “That’s right,” I said. “I understand you’re not affiliated with DGI.”

  “Ain’t run with that crowd in a few years, but I keep in touch with a few of the ol’ boys.”

  Naomi leaned forward. “When I mentioned the crystal, you knew what I was talking about.”

  “Ain’t good to discuss business on an empty stomach. Grab a menu. Breakfast is on me.” He kept glancing out the window.

  Kelly looked at me to make sure I noticed, so I let her know I wasn’t as oblivious as she thought.

  “Expecting company?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he said.

  Kelly slid from her chair to the booth beside Cantrell, pulled the toothpick from her mouth, and stuck it deep enough into Cantrell’s neck to draw blood.

  “What the fuck?”

  Naomi jumped in her seat, but I remained calm and placed a hand on her knee to let her know it was cool.

  “Who’s joining us?” I asked.

  “Answer or I’ll slit your jugular,” Kelly said as if she’d asked him to pass the salt.

  “Jesus H. Christ!”

  I shook my head. “I doubt he’ll be stopping by.”

  “What are you doing?” Naomi asked. “The man’s a friend of mine.”

  “You two as close as your mom and dad were before the murder?”

  Naomi shook her head.

  I turned my attention back to Cantrell.

  Kelly looked over at me. “Can I kill him? Pretty please?”

  “Hold up a second,” Cantrell said. “I ain’t—I mean—”

  Kelly pushed the toothpick deeper.

  “Nobody’s coming!” Cantrell said. “I swear!”

  “You keep looking out the window as if you’re expecting someone.”

  “No no no,” he said fast. “I was just makin’ sure nobody followed you.”

  The waitress approached the table and glanced at the chair, which was blocking the aisle a bit, but she didn’t bother to move it. She looked about sixty and wore a bored look that said she’d seen it all before. Kelly covered the toothpick with her hand and acted as if she were simply getting a bit frisky with Cantrell.

  “What can I get you to drink?” the wai
tress asked.

  “Coffee,” Naomi said.

  “Coffee sounds good,” I said.

  She looked at Kelly. “Ma’am?”

  “Orange juice, large.”

  “Sir?”

  “Uh,” Cantrell said.

  “Oh, come on, baby, order what you want,” Kelly said.

  Tears leaked out of Cantrell’s eyes, so I knew Kelly was pushing the toothpick deeper. “Coffee!”

  The waitress took a step back. “I’m standing right here, sir. There’s no need to yell.”

  “He didn’t mean anything by it,” Kelly said. “He has Tourette’s.”

  “Yeah, right. You need a few minutes to look over the menu?”

  “Please,” I said.

  “Uh-huh.” She cast a disapproving glance at Cantrell then moved off.

  “You ain’t gonna kill me, are you?” he said when the waitress was out of hearing range.

  “Give me a good reason not to.”

  “I got tickets to see Kenny Chesney.”

  “Who’s opening for him?”

  I cut them off. “So, Cantrell, let’s say I believe you and nobody’s going to be joining us. I’m not convinced but we’ll let that slide for now. I want you to tell us everything you know about the crystal.”

  “Can she take the pig-sticker outta my neck?”

  Kelly looked at me and I nodded.

  She pulled the toothpick out and stuck the bloody end into her mouth. I tried not to be grossed out, and I think I managed to keep it to a slight grimace.

  “Wizard blood,” Kelly said. “It does a body good.”

  Cantrell held a napkin to his throat. “Gal, you’re a mite on the psycho side.”

  Kelly just smiled and licked the toothpick.

  “The crystal,” I said.

  “I ain’t got all the details.”

  Kelly pulled out the toothpick again.

  “But I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “We’re listening,” I said.

  “Can she move back to the chair?”

  “I just want to be close to you, baby.”

  The waitress returned with our drinks. “Ready to order?” she asked as she set the drinks in front of us with practiced ease.

  “A few more minutes, please,” I said.

  She sighed and moved off.

  “Talk,” I said.

  Cantrell pulled the napkin away from his throat and glanced at the crimson stain. “The folks down at DGI have been busting their asses to try and bring magic back to its former glory.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Get to the point.”

  “You ever hear of Blake Ravenwood?”

  “That’s a stupid name,” Kelly said.

  “Drawing a blank here,” I said.

  “He was an evil sorcerer,” Naomi said. “He’s the boogeyman parents in the magical community use to scare the kids. Be good or Blake Ravenwood is going to get you.”

  “Bingo,” Cantrell said.

  “But he’s been dead for centuries.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “He was slain by the Seven,” Naomi said. She turned to me. “The Seven was a group of seven powerful wizards who acted as a police force among the magical communities back in the 1600s.”

  “That’s just the crap we put into the history books,” Cantrell said. “Ravenwood killed four of the Seven in the final battle before the remaining three captured his soul in a crystal. They broke the crystal into three pieces. The Alyshian, Byzantine, and the Corathian.”

  “A, B, and C,” I said.

  Cantrell nodded. “Ravenwood’s body was burned to a crisp, but his soul was still alive in those three crystals and kept separate so he could never escape. The crystals were passed down as family heirlooms through the centuries and kept in different parts of the world.”

  “You’re a liar,” Kelly said.

  “No, they’re always kept in separate countries.”

  “Not that.” Kelly nodded toward the parking lot. “Al Davidson is here.”

  “I didn’t call him.”

  “Maybe you used the Bat Signal,” I said. “Regardless, you let him know he needed to be here.”

  “I did no such thing,” Cantrell said. “But I eat here every day, so maybe he’s just dropping by to chat.”

  “Come on.”

  “He does that a lot.”

  “That’s true,” Naomi said. “I’ve eaten here with Frank a few times when Al just showed up.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Continue.”

  Cantrell looked at Naomi. “Your dad had the Alyshian Crystal. He inherited it from his grandma when his folks passed. Normally it would be passed on to you, but that ain’t gonna happen this time.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “The clowns at DGI thought they could bring back some magic by putting the three crystals together, and in so doing, they unleashed Ravenwood.”

  Cantrell shook his head. “They ain’t that stupid.”

  Al approached the table. “Frank, please tell me why you’re associating with these people.”

  “Have a seat, Al,” I said.

  “I think not.” He turned the leave.

  I stood and blocked his path. “Sit.”

  “Mr. Shade, I can destroy you with a flick of my finger.”

  I punched him in the nose.

  He sat down.

  He blinked his eyes a few times then checked his nose to make sure it wasn’t broken. “You hit me.”

  “And I’ll hit you again if you start to pull up any magic. Five-second rule,” I said.

  I used to think the five-second rule was the length of time a piece of food had to be on the floor before you couldn’t eat it. Back when I was engaged to Naomi, she told me it was actually the amount of time the average wizard needed to pull up any strong magic. Al didn’t know about my immunity to magic, and I saw no reason to reveal it.

  “Point taken,” Al said. “Am I bleeding?”

  “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

  “I may press charges.”

  “And I may kick your ass.”

  “You’ll go to jail.”

  “Your ass will still be kicked.”

  “Or I might kill you,” Kelly said.

  “Careful, Al,” Cantrell said. “She wields a mean toothpick.”

  “What?”

  “Can we get back to the subject at hand?”

  The waitress started back toward us, but I caught her eye and shook my head. She rolled her eyes and moved to another table.

  “Which subject might that be?” Al asked.

  “Frank was filling us in on Ravenwood,” Naomi said.

  “That’s right,” Cantrell said.

  “This is private DGI business, Frank. We’ll handle it.”

  “You’ve been doing a bang-up job so far,” I said. “David and Kathy Miller are dead, a civilian was slain by a Sekutar, and that same warrior tried to kill Naomi. Your private business is now our business. Got it?”

  “I disagree.”

  Cantrell sighed. “Al, you gotta tell them the truth. Maybe they can help.”

  “Mr. Shade is a common thug, and this woman”—he motioned to Kelly—“is an abomination that should have been destroyed with the rest of her lot.”

  “Well,” Cantrell said, “this common thug and this abomination have handled two reasonably powerful wizards before breakfast with no sweat off their balls.” He turned to Kelly. “Pardon the expression.”

  Al fumed.

  “I may not be part of your company,” I said, “but I need to know what’s going on. What did you do with the crystals? Did you unite them?”

  “Only a moron would unite them.”

  “I ask again, did you unite them?”

  “Do I look like a moron to you? Don’t answer that. I wasn’t assigned to the Crystal Project. That was David’s project, but he would never unite them. They haven’t even been on the same continent in four hundred years.”