by Colin Sims
I got out my phone to call Cassie’s new number, but no one answered.
“Sir?” the automaton asked. “Are you attempting to reach Agent Chu?”
“She’s not answering,” I said. I then squinted at him and formed a Firebolt. “If you work for Rosewood,” I started to say, but stopped when his head fell back unnaturally and a 3D hologram shone out of his gaping mouth. It showed Cassie sitting at a desk, and for a split-second, she looked surprised when she glanced up from some papers. “Hey!” she said, brightening. “You met Jeeves!”
I stepped back and frowned. “Who?”
“My new automaton. Every agent gets one. Plus the Rolls. But I like my old car better. Anyway, what are you doing outside? He’s supposed to bring you here.”
“I didn’t want to get in,” I said. “It was freaky.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You mean, Jeeves? He’s cool. Come on, we have important things to discuss. I got a promotion, you know. I’m big time now. Full secret agent status.”
“So that’s why you sent your driver to come fetch me, huh?”
I was trying to sound offended but I couldn’t stop grinning. Just seeing Cassie’s face had that affect on me. (Usually.)
Her eyes glanced down and she gave a sheepish grin. “I was showing off. You’re not impressed?”
I looked at the brand new Rolls and then at Jeeves. “No, I’m impressed,” I said. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few minutes?”
She nodded curtly. “That would be correct, my hot new boyfriend. Bye!”
Her hologram disappeared and Jeeves’s head snapped back into place. “Hello sir,” he said again. “You are requested in London. Please come with me.”
• • •
The trip to London took about an hour. The coolest part of the journey, and partly why it took so long, was that we drove across L.A. to get to the famous Griffith Park Tunnel. It’s fame hails from its role as the entrance to Toontown in the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit. (Arguably an astounding work of cinematic genius.) When we passed into the tunnel, we instantly popped out the other side of a different tunnel in London. From there, it was only a short drive to a small pub on the corner of Chiswick Street and Mistyshire Lane. (I just made those up. I didn’t actually see the street names.) The Rolls stopped at the curb and Jeeves hopped outside to open my door. “It is this way, sir.” He motioned toward the pub.
“In there?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
I followed him inside. The place was dark, musty and deserted. I wasn’t surprised, though. London was eight hours ahead of LA. It was four a.m. local time. Jeeves led the way before coming to an abrupt halt and pointing to a supply closet.
“This is the entrance, sir. Use the passcode ‘Cherry Trolley Manchester,’ to arrive at your destination. Have a safe trip.” He bowed again and then marched away.
I looked at the door. I knew it was just a standard issue backdoor, but I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. The SIA had a long way to go before I trusted it again. In fact, it was kind of stupid that I had ever trusted it at all. What did I know about any of this stuff? I was a college student in a den of magical spies. If ever there was a sitting duck …
I spoke the passcode aloud before turning the key. The door opened to a drab room with a gated elevator on the far wall. Beside it stood a familiar old man in a starched conductor’s uniform.
The scary guard, I thought.
I closed the door behind me and the old man morphed into his true self—an eight-foot tall, flaming-headed angel thing with a giant sword.
I gave him a nod. “George,’ I said.
We stared at each other until the elevator gave a loud clatter and its doors opened. The screech of rusty metal on metal was like fingernails on a chalkboard. I half-expected to see Cassie, but instead it was a middle-aged white guy who I’d never seen before. His suit was grey and businesslike. His face—the same. He didn’t exit the elevator but just stared at me a moment. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t another Brit like Rosewood. There was something about his clothing, his no-nonsense posture, and his salt and pepper hair that suggested he was an American, and most likely, a former Marine.
“François Lemieux,” he said with a slight squint. (I was right. American. Marine. No-nonsense.) He stepped forward and extended a hand. His other gripped a heavy file folder. “I’m Agent Brewer. Let’s have a chat, shall we?”
“Where’s Cassie?” I asked.
“Agent Chu will join us in a moment. I wanted you and I to meet first. Let’s go.”
I hesitated, but stepped inside the elevator anyway. The guy had the tone of a cop, which somehow compelled me to follow his instructions. The doors clattered shut behind me and he didn’t say a word as we dropped at least a hundred floors before they reopened.
“It’s this way,” he said, and walked ahead.
I was mildly disappointed to see that we were in a bland hallway lined with closed doors. I’d hoped the headquarters of the Supernatural Intelligence Agency would be a little cooler than this. This was like the basement of the Internal Revenue Service.
Agent Brewer showed me into a windowless room with no furniture except a simple table and three chairs. I’d seen plenty of rooms just like it on TV. This was the room where the homicide detectives questioned their suspects. There was even a big mirror on the back wall that wasn’t fooling anyone. I stared at my reflection a second—mildly panicking—and asked Brewer where we were.
“This is the interrogation level,” he explained as he sat in one of the chairs. He pointed to the other. “Have a seat.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“Depends,” he said, and opened the file.
I sat opposite him and waited. My plan was to look as cool and casual as possible. I looked straight ahead as Brewer scanned a few pages in silence. There was something strangely familiar about him. Perhaps I had seen him before. I just couldn’t place where. He glanced up as I was staring. “Wizenguaard, huh?” he said. “Why’d he pick you?”
He was referring to the foreign warlock guy who had apparently bestowed his abilities on me when I was a baby.
“No idea,” I said.
“No? Well look, here’s the deal. I need to make sure you’re on the level before we proceed any further. Tell me about the night you met Agent Chu. Give me the play by play. All of it.”
I took a deep breath and told him everything I remembered about the party, the vampettes, the car chase, and Cassie taking me back to my apartment. Brewer took copious notes. When I was done, he said, “Alright. Now tell me about the next day. Tell me about meeting Agent Rosewood.”
So I did. After that, a pattern developed. Brewer asked for the details of each day for the past few weeks and I told him everything I knew. When I got to certain days, like when Cassie and I visited the indoor pool at Le Parker Meridian, I used some creative language to avoid lying. If Brewer could tell the difference, he didn’t let it show. His face—which at this point looked so familiar it was driving me crazy—was like a piece of granite.
By the time we were done, at least three hours had passed. He made a final note with his pen before closing the file with a heavy thud. His face was unreadable.
“That’s quite a story,” he said. “I’ll be double-checking the facts, rest assured of that. But so far, everything squares with Agent Chu’s debrief. Well done.”
“So what now?” I asked.
“Agent Chu has requested that you continue on as a special consultant to the SIA, serving as her personal assistant. I’m inclined to grant her request, but on a provisional basis only.”
I frowned. “She called me her personal assistant?”
Brewer gave me a look—his first visible emotion since we’d met. “I believe Agent Chu was looking for the most diplomatic title possible. And quite frankly, in your future role, it fits.”
At that moment, there were two big thoughts in my head competing against each other like a game of tug-of-war. The first thought
was that I still didn’t trust the SIA. Rosewood had been an SIA agent, and look what happened there. How could I know if Agent Brewer wasn’t just as bad? I didn’t know the first thing about the guy. And why, dang it, did he look so freaking familiar?!
The second thought was that—here in this little, dingy room—I was essentially being offered a job by a super secret magical intelligence agency for a life filled with mystery, adventure and intrigue. How in the world could I possibly betray the dreams of my eleven-year-old self by turning it down? Plus, I’d be working with Cassie Chu—a dream of my thirteen and onward-year-old self.
“I’m in,” I said.
The door suddenly swung open and Cassie strode in purposefully. She wore a sharp-looking suit that was professional, yes, but also sexy as hell. She even wore glasses, which I doubted were necessary, but completed the “hot businesswoman” look quite well. Her face was completely neutral. Just like Agent Brewer’s.
“This is your contract, Mr. Lemieux,” she said in a cold, even tone and placed a massive stack of papers in front of me. “Sign at the bottom, please.”
I squinted at it. First, I was a little weirded out by Cassie’s demeanor. It was like she’d morphed into a corporate lawyer overnight. And second—why do lawyers give you the entire contract, anyway? The thing was at least five hundred pages long. You could’ve given me a desk, a reading lamp, and an endless supply of Oreo Cookies and it would’ve taken me six weeks to read the entire thing. So what was I supposed to do here and now—“look it over?” I signed it.
I caught a tiny flash in Cassie’s eye, but it was immediately extinguished.
“Good,” Agent Brewer said crisply. “Now we can speak freely. The contract you just signed has confidentiality agreements of a—shall we say—‘magical nature,’ that will prevent you from sharing sensitive information. I’d now like to discuss some of the revelations Rosewood explained to you after stealing the Orbis Lux.”
“Yes,” I said. “I am the Chosen One.”
Cassie snorted but quickly returned to lawyer face.
Brewer grimaced at me. “You may think this is funny, son, but I assure you it isn’t. As of this moment, you are now what we like to refer to as a ‘Being of Interest.’”
“BOI,” Cassie agreed solemnly.
“That’s right,” Brewer said. “We’ll be keeping an eye on you. But before you get a big head about that, remember where you are. This is the SIA and it sure isn’t our first rodeo. So you went and got yourself some special wizard powers from some special wizard from some special realm. I’ll tell ya, that kind of thing is par for the course around here. That being said, your skills may be of value someday. Not right now, but someday. And I like to plan ahead.”
“When do I reach double oh status?” I asked.
“God damn it. Do you know how much paperwork went into that contract you just signed? Don’t make me regret it.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Now look here, son.” He leaned forward and pointed an accusatory finger. “I don’t trust beings like you. I’ve been around the block too many times. It’s all these damned wizard feuds and sorcery shenanigans from other realms that gets this realm into a whole pile of trouble. And my job is to keep this realm trouble-free, you understand?”
I saluted. “Yes, sir.”
The salute was actually totally genuine. I’m not even kidding. I just did it.
“Good,” Brewer said. “Now I checked with Archives, and they do indeed have records confirming what Rosewood told you. There was a realm a few spheres over from ours called Endruvia, and it was destroyed by a sorcerer who goes by ‘Delvious.’ Shortly after his victory, however, a warlock named Wizenguaard from yet another realm, this one called Arpathia—which is a hell of a long way away—arrived on the scene and banished Delvious to the Infernal Plane. At this point the details are a bit hazy, but apparently the battle weakened Wizenguaard and he saw fit to pass his abilities onto another. Why he chose this particular realm, and why he chose you is a mystery that I intend to solve sooner rather than later. In the meantime, I suggest you do whatever Agent Chu tells you to do, and maybe you’ll live long enough to learn the answer for yourself.”
I told him I’d do my best. Yet right as I did … I noticed something unmistakable. There was a certain crease in Agent Brewer’s forehead. I couldn’t believe it. I knew exactly where I’d seen him before. “You!” I nearly shouted and stabbed a finger back at him. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
To my utter shock, he cracked a tiny grin. “Only took you a few hours, kid. That’s gotta be some kind of record.”
“You’re the creepy German librarian!”
“That’s right.”
I turned to Cassie who remained stone-faced like she’d known all along. My head whipped back to Brewer. “Holy shit! Are you, you right now, or is this a disguise or …?”
“It’s called tradecraft, son. You better study up. And if I’m doing my job right, you’ll never know which is which.”
• • •
After a few more minutes of stern warnings from Agent Brewer/Hans Müller, he finally left Cassie and me alone together in the little interrogation room. I was genuinely dumbfounded when she did not drop the corporate lawyer routine.
“Do you have any additional questions, Mr. Lemieux?” she asked with her hands neatly folded on the desk.
I scratched my head. “How come you’re acting so—”
“Good,” she said abruptly. “If there’s nothing more, come with me.”
She got up and headed out, expecting me to follow. I practically had to jog to keep up with her. We reached the elevator in silence, and once we were inside, she turned to me and put a finger to her lips. She then inserted a key into the elevator’s archaic control panel and pressed the top button. When we arrived at what I assumed was the top floor, it opened onto another endless hallway lined with doors.
“This way,” Cassie said, resuming the lawyer voice and raising her chin a little. “Follow me, please.”
“Cassie, I don’t—”
“Agent Chu.”
I rolled my eyes. I knew in my bones that this was some kind of prank—especially knowing Cassie—but I had no choice but to go along with it.
“Okay,” I said. “Agent Chu. Where are we going?”
She stopped at one of the doors with an abrupt about-face. “I am your training officer, Mr. Lemieux. I have designed your first lesson and I need you to come with me. Is that a problem?”
I shook my head.
“Good. It’s this way.” She opened the door, and with a not-so-gentle hand, shoved me through. I stumbled into a small space that looked like a little submarine-shaped gondola. Its walls were made of glass, offering a wide, panoramic view. I stood up taller and my heart beat faster. We were high up—really high up. And the view, on all sides, was of the vast metropolis of London. The door clicked shut and I turned to see Cassie grinning wickedly.
“Mr. Lemieux,” she said.
“Agent Chu.”
She stepped forward. “I thought we’d cure that fear of Ferris wheels once and for all. This is one of the tallest in the world.”
My heart beat even faster, but for an entirely new reason. “So I guess this means I can call you Cassie again?”
She shook her head. “I prefer Best Girlfriend Ever. Just … not in front of other agents. They kind of frown on inter-office romance around here. And then I’d have to quit because I’m not giving you up for anything.”
I put my arms around her waist and kissed her. After a moment—before I knew she’d start losing control—I pulled back. “Cass,” I said. I wasn’t sure if this was the right time or not, but there was something I needed to say. It was probably going to be a huge mood-killer, but I couldn’t help it. Because as much as I wanted Cassie, I liked her even more.
Her eyes opened questioningly.
“We haven’t really talked much since that night with Rosewood,” I said slowly. “Up on the roof, I
mean. I’m not saying we have to right now, but I’m here whenever you’re ready, okay?”
She studied my eyes a moment longer. Then something new appeared in hers—a faint glow. “I know,” she whispered. “And I will.”
“I just wanted you to know.”
She smiled and then playfully grabbed the scruff of my collar with both hands. “Listen,” she said. “You’re my boyfriend. But you really are my personal assistant, too. That wasn’t a joke. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.”
“I get it,” I said with a solemn nod. “It’s life and death out there.”
“Just so long as we understand each other.” Her hand moved to her neckline and began unbuttoning her blouse. “So first, I’m going to need you to remove your pants ASAP. If you don’t, there will be consequences.”
From that day on, I was never scared of heights again.
Werewolves, yes. Unicycles, sort of. But heights? No.
They now reminded me of the best three hours of my life. And then another three at my apartment.
My name is François Lemieux. And as it turns out—though I suppose it’s up to you—I don’t think I’m too shabby at this whole “writing” thing, after all. Perhaps I’ll keep doing it as a hobby.
When I’m not being a wizard, that is.
And don’t forget, dear reader, if there’s one thing you should take away from my story it’s this: I went twenty years thinking I was Mr. Average—a complete nobody. But you never know what tomorrow may bring. Perhaps a black Mustang and a girl with a ponytail.
Keep looking.
THE END
Thank you for reading “True Magic.”
If you liked it, please take a second to leave a review. We authors thrive on reviews. Big time.
Also, be sure to check out my other titles including, “Downfall: Book One of the Deadlander Series,” as well as “Where the Dragons Go,” a heartfelt young adult contemporary novel written under the penname C.W. Sims.
Thanks again for reading. You rock.
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