Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  It was a room with plenty of other patients. Doctors and nurses flitted about like bees from patient to patient, checking their vitals, and asking them questions.

  Watching them, my hopes fell. How the hell was I supposed to get him out of here with everyone watching?

  My answer was there next to me: a janitor closet on my right.

  I slipped into it and shut the door behind me. As luck would have it, there was a discarded janitor's uniform that thankfully looked like some mint green scrubs. I pulled that on, along with a pair of men's shoes that were a few sizes too big. I pulled my hair back into a high ponytail, giving me the look of someone who was in control. I stuffed my chart in the waistband of my pants and pulled the shirt down over it. I even pinned a janitor's badge facing the wrong way on my chest, hoping that it made me look a bit more legitimate. If no one came too close to me, they'd just notice the badge swinging and not ask too many questions.

  I hesitated a moment, noticing a purse nearby. It felt incredibly wrong, but I reached into it and rummaged around for a bit and grabbed a dollar in change. Stealing any more felt like I'd be going too far.

  As if I hadn't gone too far already.

  I took a deep breath, practiced a smile in a small, hanging mirror. I looked like shit, and there was nothing I could do about that.

  I left the janitor's closet, and pushed through the double doors. I headed straight towards Plutus, walking with the determination I knew that doctors had when dealing with patients. He was facing away from me, curled up on the bed, radiating waves of depression, unhappiness, and overall despair.

  I didn't blame him. He'd been wrenched from his world and spat into mine. He had no idea what to expect. There, he was the Prince of the Underworld. Here, he was just John Doe.

  I quickly picked up his chart and rifled through it, trying to make sense of it.

  When I saw what happened to him, I nearly laughed. Of course, that was why he was now in the emergency room of one of the largest hospitals in San Francisco. At least he wasn't in as bad shape as I had been.

  “First thing you do as a mortal is get hit by a car?”

  He rolled onto his back at the sound of my voice, and blinked painfully up at the light. “Callista?” he asked incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

  “You're in the hospital. I just woke up here.”

  He reached out, searching for my hand. “I can't...I can’t see you...”

  I knelt and took his hand. “Of course not, Plutus, you're blind,” I said.

  “I know, but I can't see anything.” So he really didn't have his god powers. Being a mortal was entirely alien to him. His grip on my hand was tight, like he was holding onto me for dear life. Which I suppose he was.

  “I'll make sure you don't get hit by a car again,” I promised. I noticed a wheelchair nearby and grabbed it.

  “Callista?” He sounded panicked.

  “Hush,” I whispered. “Just play along. I'm going to get you out of here.”

  When I pulled off the sheets, I realized that he was naked, probably because he had arrived in the Living world not very long ago in his birthday suit. I quickly averted my eyes, but not before getting a good look at the whole package. Plutus might have been the son of the God of the Underworld, but it looked like he could be the son of the God of Love. I wrapped him up in a hospital gown that was folded up on a chair nearby. I didn't tie the back, because he was about to be sitting in a wheelchair, so no one would be staring at his very nice behind. We were running out of time.

  I bent and wrapped his arm about my shoulders, noting how blue his skin looked in the December chill. “C'mere, I'll help you get to your chair.”

  He didn't move. “I didn’t want you to find me,” he said, his voice as hoarse as mine was. “I wanted you to live your life in peace. You’ve already done enough for me.”

  “You know that’s not true,” I said. “Your life is still in danger. And running around naked and getting hit by cars isn't going to keep you alive for very long.” I let out a determined sigh. “I’ll get you out of here.”

  “I didn't want you—”

  “Too late, I'm here,” I said, cutting him off. “Do you trust me?”

  He paused for a moment. “Yes.”

  I fought the blush in my cheeks and helped him to his feet. If my legs were wobbly, his were like shattered glass. He put his entire weight on me, and I nearly fell over. His bad leg, which I now saw for what it was for the first time, was in an extremely bad state. It was twisted and too thin compared to his other leg. It looked like something had chewed on it from the knee down and then spat it out. No wonder he couldn't walk without a cane.

  Somehow I managed to wrangle him into the wheelchair. I held my head up, trying to look like I belonged here, and pushed him out of the room. We passed an emergency exit. I paused only momentarily, debating what to do, before pushing through the exit, ignoring the alarm that started blaring.

  If they were looking for me, they'd have to stop and get out all of the patients they could. While we only had a slight head start, I could get the two of us pretty far before they could gather themselves and run a search for a missing John Doe and a coma patient.

  In the dead of night, ignoring the blaring sirens of the hospital, I pushed Plutus two blocks east before finding a pay phone. It was the only one I’d seen in years and I was thankful to the Gods that it was on this block.

  “Wait a minute,” I told Plutus.

  I went into the phone booth, leaving the door open so I could keep an eye on him. I picked up the receiver and dialed Dion's cell number from memory. I'd learned a long time ago to remember all of the important phone numbers in case I didn't have my phone on me. In situations like, you know, if you'd just woken up from a coma and escaped the hospital.

  Even after three months of being comatose, I still remembered it.

  Of course, it was a huge risk in calling Dion. He never strayed from what was morally right, and if I couldn't convince him that I simply could not stay in the hospital, he'd call up the doctors and keep me there, if only to make sure that I was okay. His heart was in the right place, but sometimes he went too far with it.

  At the same time, I only had the clothes on my back, Plutus was practically naked in a wheelchair, and I now only had fifty cents. We needed help. Mom would freak out and be of no help at all. My friend Aimee could barely take care of herself. Dion was the only one I could trust.

  The phone on the other end rang, each second lasting an eternity to me. Would he pick up? Especially if it was a number he didn't recognize?

  “Hello?” The familiar voice on the other end was frantic, a bit slurred as if he had been in a fitful sleep a few minutes before. I'd recognize that Chicago accent from anywhere.

  “Dion,” I said, feeling a smile grow. “I need your help.”

  There was stunned silence on the other end.

  “Callie?” he asked. “Callie, what the hell...you're supposed to be in the hospital. They've called me to ask if I'd heard from you. Do you...do you realize what a state your mother is in?”

  Even though he was lecturing me, I was still smiling. I had worked with Dion every day for years, and I didn't realize until then how much I missed him.

  “I missed you too,” I told him. That stopped his lecturing in its tracks. “I need your help, Dion.”

  “What do you need?”

  I told him, and I promised him that I'd explain everything once he saw me and begged him not to call the authorities, that our lives depended on him keeping quiet.

  “And,” I added, with a grimace, flipping through my chart to see if there was anything else I needed. “Could you find out how to remove a catheter?”

  15

  An hour later, a bewildered Dion met us in an alley three blocks away at a local McDonald’s. He brought each of us a change of clothes and a cheap cane from a pharmacy. While Plutus was getting dressed, Dion and I were trying to figure out what to do with the catheter.

/>   He’d printed some catheter removal instructions he'd found on the internet, and luckily, the doctors had used the easier version of urinary catheters on me, so after a bit of fiddling and trying with a syringe Dion had bought from the pharmacy, I was able to be free of it.

  I never wanted to do that again.

  “You mind telling me what this is all about?” Dion grumped in his heavy Chicago accent when I came back. He and Plutus had been standing idly next to each other. I hadn't even introduced them properly (Dion had gruffly told him to call him Detective Stubbins, which didn't get them off on the right foot), so it was extremely awkward for everyone.

  I actually couldn't believe that Dion was here. A short, plump, balding man in his mid-fifties, he was a contrast to me both in looks and in personality. Where he was far more laid back than I was, I was a bit sharper when it came to putting together pieces. In the game of good cop bad cop, he was the good cop, but I was still a better shot.

  “What time is it, exactly?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Sometime after four. In the middle of the night.”

  “Well, I'm hungry,” I declared with a disarming smile. “I'm sure you are too, Paul,” I added, nudging Plutus in the ribs. I'd given him that alias when Dion arrived. It wasn't that I didn't trust Dion with Plutus' real name. It was to protect him because I knew Stephen was going to try everything in his power to get us. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to mention it to Plutus, so he turned his head to me when I said it, but didn't question the name.

  “McDonald's?” I offered. “We'll explain everything there, I promise, Dion.”

  He looked dubious; however, he nodded his agreement.

  The McDonald's next to us was a 24-hour one. We were the only ones there at that time of night, so I quickly ordered two Big Mac combos for Plutus and I, and we sat down at a four-seater table on the opposite end of the restaurant, away from the two employees.

  I was all too happy to start chomping down on my hamburger. Plutus had never had one before, so I had to coax him and tell him how to eat it. Dion watched us with the fascination of someone watching two cockroaches have a conversation in Japanese. He was looking at us like we were totally alien.

  “So what is it?” he asked eventually.

  I gave him a tight smile.

  What should I tell him? The truth? Then I’d be going back to the hospital and put into the mental ward. A half-truth?

  “Stephen Cross,” I answered between mouthfuls.

  I don't know why, but I expected incredulity. I thought Dion would huff and demand to know what Stephen had done now. He sighed and put his head in his hands. “Not this again, Callie.”

  I watched him for a few moments. He didn't believe me. I was going to end up back in the hospital, this time for breaking out of the hospital with a John Doe. They might even press charges.

  “Stephen Cross is trying kill Paul,” I said, exasperated. I gestured with my thumb towards Plutus.

  “Don't be ridiculous,” Dion insisted.

  “It's true,” Plutus said quietly.

  Dion was still adamant. “What the hell would he want from you?”

  “He's my brother.” Even Plutus sounded somewhat amazed and shocked about that. “He wants what's mine.”

  Dion glared at him for a few moments before huffing out a deep breath and sitting back in his seat. “How do you two know each other anyways?” he said gruffly. “Callie's been awake for only a few hours, and who the hell knows where you came fro—”

  “Do you believe in Heaven, Dion?” I interrupted. “I met Paul in the Afterlife when I was unconscious.”

  Dion paled and his jaw dropped. Yeah, this wasn't going very well.

  “You have to believe me.”

  “All right,” he said slowly. “Let's say this is true. Tell me.”

  I gave him an abridged version. Plutus chimed in whenever Dion was a bit too skeptical about what had happened, corroborating what I was saying. I gave him the gist, leaving out the parts that would otherwise shatter Dion's view of the world. While I knew he could handle it, I also didn't want to give him all the information, just in case. I left out the parts involving Greek gods or who Plutus really was, portraying him as someone who needed help. Dion gave me an understanding look at that. Being naked and lost made Plutus look the part, so we were pretty safe.

  Dion believed us, more or less. If I’d been alone, he probably would have brought me to the psych ward, but with Plutus' story corroborating mine, he had to believe me. Two people didn't usually have crazy stories that worked so closely together. I knew that from being a cop. So did Dion.

  He heaved a great sigh.

  “So you two have the most powerful man in San Francisco after you...”

  And he's probably pissed, I thought, remembering Stephen's half face after I shot it. I found myself wondering what he looked like back in the world of the Living. Was he walking around with half a face, the other half a bloody mess?

  I shivered. He could have even been at the same hospital Plutus and I were.

  “...like you guys need to go into hiding,” Dion said, cutting into that horrible mental image. Even as I processed what he said, it made sense. Once Stephen got back in control of everything, he'd retaliate and everyone I loved would be in danger.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I muttered. It felt like an icy hand was squeezing around my heart. I wanted to see my mom. I wanted to rest. I'd found Plutus, couldn't I get a break? I closed my eyes, thinking about it. Always on the run, always trying to stay one step ahead of someone who wanted us dead, because after what happened, Stephen would always be after both of us.

  Another memory surfaced, what Hades said to me right before he sent us back to the mortal world. Find the prophet Tiresias in Hunts Point, New York. The side of my mouth curled up as I marveled at my memory remembering the name. Tiresias.

  Hunts Point was a notorious neighborhood in the Bronx, New York, considered to be a Red Light District for its crime and prostitution. I hadn't been there myself, but I'd heard heartbreaking stories about some of the people who lived there. If this Tiresias guy was there, this was going to be interesting. If it was the only lead I had, so I had to run with it. I made a mental note to talk to Plutus about it later; I didn't want to put Dion at risk by letting him know about it right now.

  “I know what we need to do,” I said. Plutus' head turned towards me and he reached out a hand to grab mine. I took it and gave it a quick squeeze.

  Dion watched our exchange with quiet intensity, his eyes glistening in the bad light of the McDonald's.

  “Right,” he said, as if reaching a decision. “You're going to need money. And you're going to need a car.”

  I argued with him about that.

  I mean, I'd only called Dion out here for a few clothes and some money to get us on our way, not so he could bankroll our entire chase. I know that money was tight for him, and what he was willing to give me was far beyond the call of duty for my partner. Dion won out by telling me that I would owe him double when I got back.

  If I got back.

  On the way to his little house in Oakland, we stopped at Wal-Mart and picked up clothes for Plutus and me along with toothbrushes, shampoo and soap.

  Pulling up to Dion's house, I felt an immense wave of nostalgia and loss. I'd had dinner here so many times with Dion and his wife, Glenda. They were like surrogate parents to me. Now I wasn't even going to go in to say hello to Glenda. We had all decided on the drive that it would be best if we kept Glenda in the dark. The same went for my friend Aimee. And my mother and Seth. To them, I'd just be someone who disappeared from her bed at the hospital.

  I hoped it wouldn't be too long before I saw them again.

  “I'm so sorry to be such a pain,” I told him as we pulled up.

  “Nonsense,” Dion said with a wave of his hand. “I'll be right back, stay here.” He slipped out of the car, leaving Plutus and me alone.

  I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes. I felt drained and
absolutely exhausted. I didn't know what Dion had in mind when he headed towards his house, but he had a plan. He always had a plan.

  Meanwhile, I was thinking about my own plan. It didn't sound too great.

  I'd have to find a car and drive to New York City. Plutus wouldn't be able to drive at all. It wasn’t like he had a license. My chart said that I'd had some brain trauma from being hit by the bus and I worried about driving. While I felt mostly fine now, would I go into a seizure while driving and crash and kill both of us?

  “I like him.” Plutus' words broke into my thoughts. “Dion. Officer Stubbins, I mean.”

  I glanced at him. He was staring forward, not reacting to anything. Without having his god powers, it was a bit disconcerting seeing him completely blind. My heart went out to him.

  “Dion's the best friend I've ever had,” I said. “He's kind of like a surrogate father to me.”

  We sat idly for a few moments. I didn't exactly know what to say to him or how to react to whatever he would say to me.

  “You called me Paul,” he said.

  I chuckled. “Plutus isn't a very common name.”

  “You could've warned me.”

  Welcome to my world. “It didn't even occur to me until I introduced you guys,” I said.

  “Paul,” he mused. “I kinda like it.”

  I found myself smiling. “It kind of suits you.”

  “Before your father sent us here, he told me to seek out a prophet named Tiresias. Does that sound familiar?”

  “Yeah. He's a prophet. A druggie too.”

  I was getting the feeling that a lot of the old Greek legends were deeply flawed in one way or another, but I didn't press the issue.

  “Would he be able to help us?” I asked.

  He frowned. “Depends on what you need to know.”

  “We need to figure out how to turn you into a god again. Until then, you won't be safe.”

  In the twilight before dawn, he found my hand and give it a quick squeeze. “If you want my permission to say that Tiresias is our best bet, then I'll agree,” he said softly. “He might be able to give us some sort of direction at least.”