The Half-Assed Wizard: The Complete Series: Books 1-4: The Half-Assed Wizard, The Big-Ass Witch, The Dumbass Demon, The Lame-Assed Doppelganger

by Gary Jonas

  A few minutes later, he came down. “Sabrina’s room is almost as messy as yours, but I suspect hers was from a struggle, while yours is in its natural state.”

  “No more notes?”

  He shook his head.

  “One more place to check. If she knew they were coming, she might have gone down to the basement.”

  “An underground basement in Galveston?”

  “Magic,” I said.

  “That would have to be some serious magic.”

  I moved down the hall, knocked three times to reveal the door, then opened it. Michael and I descended into the basement. It looked exactly the same as the last time I’d been down here.

  “Impressive. The magic is reinforcing the walls,” Michael said.

  “You can feel that?” I asked.

  “No,” he said and pointed to a sigil on the wall. “That’s some intricate and powerful magic. The sigil makes the walls adjust to the ground. The arrows up and to the sides with those symbols are drawn in wizard blood. This house will withstand some major hurricanes.”

  “How do you know it’s wizard blood?”

  “I can smell it.”

  “Yeah, okay. Don’t go licking the walls.”

  “Wizard blood would kill me,” Michael said. “I want a cure, not death.”

  “Good to know.”

  I moved around. The guitar was in place. The sewing table was fine, the laundry basket with the blankets were right there on top.

  I flipped the basket over and let the blankets fall on the floor, but the basket felt lighter than it should have. I turned it back over and the bottom was no longer sealed. I could see the three inch gap because someone had managed to open it.

  “Shit,” I said. I shook my head and stamped my feet. “Son of a bitch.”

  The cards were gone.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The only other person on the entire planet who knew where I’d hidden the cards was Sabrina. The cards told me I could trust her. Barring that, how the hell did she open the basket safe? She’d need my blood.

  And then it hit me.

  The goddamn pin cushion. I’d stabbed myself with one of those stupid pins. If she was adept at magic—and she was—she’d only need a trace of my blood.

  So the cards lied to me.

  That didn’t make sense.

  But there it was.

  There was no other explanation. Well, there were other explanations, but those that occurred to me didn’t make a lick of sense, and I didn’t want to hurt my brain with actual thinking when it was easier to just be pissed-off.

  “Is there a problem?” Michael asked.

  “Cliff’s Notes version,” I said. “My uncle sent an old deck of Tarot cards to me and I hid them right here, but now they’re gone. That’s more than six words, but your attention span is longer than mine.”

  “So you put the cards in the laundry basket,” he said.

  “It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

  “Other than being old, what’s the significance of the cards?”

  “Delgado said it was a certain deck. Sounds like Estrella, but that’s not right.”

  “Etteilla?”

  “That sounds right.”

  “You held the original Etteilla deck in your hands?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I know, they’re tuned to me. Only way anyone else can use them is to kill me. I’ve got all that.”

  “And someone tried to kill you a few hours ago.”

  “Assault with an SUV.”

  “But you still thought they might be trying to kill Olivia?”

  “Sure. Because she might be related to Joseph Sinclair.”

  He stared at me, incredulous. “As in Joseph Carlisle Sinclair III?”

  “That’s right.”

  Michael shook his head. “I knew your family was in the mix of things, but holy shit.”

  “What’s the big deal?”

  “Sinclair is right up there with your father in terms of power.”

  “He’s below my father,” I said.

  “You’re taking this whole thing in stride,” Michael said. “Are you high right now?”

  “No. Mostly I’m just tired of all the community drama.”

  “People tried to kill you tonight. I’m more freaked out about it than you are, and I’m already dead.”

  “Calm down, dude. I’ve been dealing with shit like this my whole life. When I was a little baby, I was kidnapped. When I was five, a wizard put me in a coma. When I was fifteen, I had a bad experience with a succubus. And an incubus.”

  “Say what?”

  “Actually, let’s not go there.”

  “You can’t bring up a succubus and an incubus and then not go there.”

  “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “But you did. Spill.”

  “Look, it was a case of mistaken intentions. This succubus came on to me, and I was a nervous virgin, so I didn’t make a move. She thought I was batting for the other team, so she sent her brother, Edward. Can you say ‘inappropriate touching?’ I thought you could.”

  He laughed. “Just as well you turned them both down. They feed on the souls of virgins.”

  “He tried to drink my soul from my…” I pointed to my crotch.

  “TMI.”

  “Yeah, it was actually worse than that.”

  “How could it be worse?”

  “My mother heard me scream and she rushed into the room. She’s never treated me the same way. I mean, I don’t think she’d care if I was gay, but it was a fucking incubus.”

  “Or a sucking incubus.”

  “That too.”

  “Sucks to be you.”

  “You’re the one who sucks,” I said.

  “At least I suck blood.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Your mom told on me?”

  I stared at him.

  “Too far?” he asked.

  “Dude, the line you crossed was way back there.” I pointed for effect.

  “I do that,” he said. “So back to your current dilemma. What happens now?”

  “Hell if I know. They got Sabrina, so I guess I’m supposed to try and get her back. I should let them keep her. It would serve them right. She’ll go off on them about cleaning or how they need to dress better and they’ll let her go just to be rid of her.”

  “Or they’ll kill her.”

  “They won’t kill her,” I said. “They’re too afraid of what my father would do to them for breaking the covenant.”

  “The what?”

  “An agreement drawn up centuries ago between the main power families in the magical community. We’re not supposed to kill each other. We can kidnap each other. Threats are fine, of course, and some kinds of torture can be forgiven. Killing is a no-no.”

  “But they’re trying to kill you.”

  “Well, I’m what you might call an exception.”

  “How so?”

  I sighed. “Because when we turn eighteen, to be considered official we have to pass a magic competency test. If we don’t pass it, we’re fair game.”

  “You failed the test?”

  “I never took it. But Sabrina passed with flying colors. And I mean that in a literal sense.”

  “Not sure I follow.”

  “You know where the term flying colors comes from?”

  “Not off the top of my head,” Michael said.

  “Flags. In war, you fly the colors, or the flag. If someone comes through with flying colors, that means their flag is still waving, so they made it through the battle.”

  “Why would you even know that?”

  “Jeopardy! And if you take Sabrina’s Magic Test for a thousand, Alex will tell you the answer is primary colors dancing in the air, spinning and combining in shades of orange, purple, and green.”

  “Which means she’s safe, but you’re not?”

  “Wizards always talk about breaking the covenant, so I guess I have to pay lip service
to the threat, but with me, they can kill me without having to worry about ancient truces and ramifications. It’s another reason I should just let them keep her.”

  “But she’s a good singer.”

  “And you want to bone her.”

  “I want to bone most women,” Michael said. “Before I was a vampire, I did not have much luck with the ladies. I’m making up for lost time.”

  “With your vampire roofie trick?”

  “I’ve never used it that way.”

  “I’ve seen you hypnotize women, Michael.”

  “It’s not like that. We should focus on saving Sabrina. You can’t let them keep her.”

  “They won’t want to.”

  “What if your dad shows up and finds out she got kidnapped and you did nothing to get her back?”

  “It’s not possible for him to think less of me,” I said.

  “You sure you want to push that?”

  I sighed. “Well, we can’t do anything until they call me.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  They called at eight in the morning.

  They called again at nine.

  And again at ten.

  And eleven.

  At noon, I came out of my sleepy fog enough to hear the phone ringing, but I pulled my pillow over my head. No way was I getting up that damn early.

  Then I remembered Sabrina.

  “Shit.”

  I rolled over and sat up.

  The phone stopped ringing.

  Good. I flopped back onto the bed and started to go back to sleep. But that was a bad idea. I needed to be awake and alert when they called back. Michael had gone home before daybreak. He wouldn’t be able to help until sundown. My brain shifted to Olivia, and I thought I should call the hospital to check on her. And Sabrina needed help, too, but my thoughts collided then started to fade and I closed my eyes.

  Wait.

  This was important.

  I needed to get up.

  But I needed to rest my eyes for a moment.

  The phone rang again at one, and I sat up. Oops.

  I rolled out of bed and staggered to the dresser where my phone sat connected to the charger.

  Caller Unknown.

  Normally, I don’t answer those calls, but these were special circumstances. “Hello?” I said, groggy.

  “We have your cousin.”

  “Yeah? Who are you?”

  “An interested party.”

  “I like parties,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I stifled a yawn. “Is there beer?”

  “You do not amuse me, Mr. Masters. We’ve been calling for hours.”

  “Hey, man, I just woke up.”

  “We have men stationed outside. You will deliver the cards to them, and we’ll release Ms. Tenn.”

  “Put Sabrina on the line.” If they had Sabrina, why didn’t they have the cards? My brain was still trying to engage.

  “She’s alive,” the man said.

  “No shit,” I said. “I’m not asking for proof of life because you know my father will do terrible things to you with a fork if you harm her. Put her on the phone, you simpering asshole.”

  “You are not in a position to request anything, and your father has nothing to do with this.”

  “I’ll let you explain that to him when he gets here. You do know he’s on his way. Right?”

  Silence.

  “Do you know what kind of damage a fork can do to eyeballs? Especially when there’s magic involved to keep the eyes from just exploding?”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “My dad has a thing for forks, dude. Not my circus, not my silverware. Put her on the line or I’m hanging up.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  I hung up.

  He called back. I answered on the third ring. “Put her on the line,” I said without even a greeting.

  “No. You’ll do as I tell you or—”

  I hung up again.

  On the third ring, I answered and said, “You’re not very good at this.”

  “Hang on,” he said.

  A moment later, Sabrina said, “These guys aren’t part of the community, Brett.”

  “You’re not with Delgado?”

  “No, they’re—”

  “That’s enough, bitch,” the man said before I could ask her about the damn cards. He sighed and spoke to me again. “My men are going to knock on your door in a minute. You are going to hand them the cards. If you don’t, I will cut off Ms. Tenn’s fingers and have my men force-feed them to you one by one.”

  “I was never much for finger food,” I said.

  “Stop treating this as a joke, Mr. Masters.”

  “Dude, you yourself might not be part of the community, but the guy you’re working for has to be or you wouldn’t know about the cards. If you do anything to Sabrina Tenn, you won’t live to see your payday. As such, I can tell you to suck elephant dicks, and you’ll just have to deal with it.”

  This time, he hung up on me.

  I guess he wasn’t a fan of elephant dicks.

  There was a knock on the front door.

  I went downstairs, peeked outside. Two large men. What could I do? I didn’t own a gun. But I had Mangani, so I opened the door.

  “Come on in, guys,” I said.

  They stepped inside. Both wore gray suits, black shoes, and black ties. They also wore matching gray fedoras. I didn’t sense anything supernatural about either of them. I did notice bulges in their jackets, and one of the men was kind enough to open said jacket to show me that yes, he did indeed have a gun.

  “Cards. Now.”

  “I’ll have to get them. You can wait in here,” I said, gesturing to the living room.

  “We’re good right here.”

  “You’ll be more comfortable on the sofa.”

  “No.”

  Damn. “Suit yourself,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Mr. Granger, go with him,” the man on the left said.

  Granger nodded and stepped forward. “Lead the way, Mr. Masters.”

  Two guys. Both armed. Both dangerous. But neither one with any kind of magic.

  My mind raced. I couldn’t wait for Michael. I was all alone. Sabrina was depending on me. I’d already pissed-off the asshole in charge of acquiring the cards. They weren’t part of the community, so my father wasn’t going to scare them, even though he’d kill them. The problem was that they would kill Sabrina before he could do that. And that would be on me.

  She was a pain in the ass, but I didn’t want her blood on my hands.

  I led Granger to the study. “I think they’re in here somewhere,” I said, trying to buy some time. I looked around the office, opening desk drawers, checking shelves. There was nothing here that could pass for ancient Tarot cards. No box that would work to fool them.

  “Speed it up, Masters,” Granger said.

  “I thought they were in here. What if I can’t find them?”

  “Then we kill you, and we kill your cousin.”

  He said it like it was going grocery shopping and stopping at the post office.

  “Good to know,” I said. “So, are you working for Delgado or Sinclair?”

  “Just get the damn cards, kid.”

  “I’m not sure where they are. Is your boss paying you well? Because my father can pay you more.”

  “You’re testing my patience.”

  “Maybe they’re in the other room,” I said and moved past him into the hall. The other goon stared at me from down the hall. When his partner stepped out, he gave his buddy a shrug, and while he wasn’t looking, I knocked three times on the wall.

  The door to the basement appeared. I darted inside and closed the door.

  Sneaky little bastard, ain’t I?

  I figured they wouldn’t be able to see the door, and there had to be some magical wards set up, so I was safe for the time being. I could find something useful down here, or I could call the cops.

  The magical wards?

  Yeah.
They didn’t exist.

  My folks must have figured that having a hidden basement was good enough.

  The door might not be visible, but that didn’t stop the goon from kicking through the wall. “There’s a hidden room,” he told his pal.

  I raced down the stairs, thinking I needed to hide.

  I ducked behind a rack of robes. The yellow measuring tape hung over the top. I grinned, and grabbed it. Once the goon moved past, I’d wrap it around his throat and choke him out.

  He must have seen the tape move.

  He shoved the rack into me.

  I fell back, knocked over the goddamn Hendrix guitar, and it started wailing “The Star Spangled Banner.”

  The goon pushed the rack aside and aimed his gun at me.

  I looked up at him from my prone position on the cement floor, and raised my hands.

  “Turn that off!” he yelled over the music.

  “I can’t!”

  “Then get the damn cards!”

  His partner stepped into view. “A basement in Galveston?” he said.

  He might have said something else, truth be told. I couldn’t hear him over the music.

  I looked past them and saw a shelf with boxes on it. One of the boxes was labeled “Tarot.”

  Would they know what the deck was supposed to look like?

  I slowly climbed to my feet. Granger kept the gun leveled at me. I pointed to the shelf. “Cards are there,” I said, raising my voice. “I’ll get them.”

  He let me pass, but kept the gun on me.

  “Make that noise stop!”

  “It has to go through the whole song,” I said. “Sorry.”

  I pulled the box off the shelf and opened it. Inside was a collection of various Tarot decks. I didn’t think a Rider-Waite would work. The Thoth deck was cool, but looked too new. The Aquarian deck was still sealed. One box was labeled Lombardy. I opened it and slid the cards into my hand. It was a reproduction of an older deck. It would have to do.

  “Found them,” I said and held up the deck.

  “Hand them over,” Granger said.

  “I’ll give them to your boss,” I said.

  “Move it,” he said gesturing toward the stairs.

  I led them out of the basement. The guitar still wailed.

  “That guitar is too freaking loud,” Granger said.

  “People actually say ‘freaking?’” I asked.