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

  “Nice doggy,” I said.

  He growled low and narrowed his gaze. His black-and-white fur made him look like a big mean cow, and his pink nose would have been cute if the fangs weren’t so damn big.

  “You’re a good dog,” I said, trying to keep all fear out of my voice. “Calm down, puppy. It’s all good.”

  The dog let out a harrumph then plopped down on top of me. He must have weighed eighty pounds.

  I tried to roll him off, but he growled again.

  “Okay, you can stay right there. No worries.”

  He lowered his head and closed his eyes. A moment later, he started snoring.

  In the far reaches of the house, a door opened and closed. Two women talked, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Cannibal?” one of the women called.

  The dog woke up.

  “Cannibal wants a treat?” the woman said.

  The dog bounded off the bed, pushing off against my gut, which hurt, but also allowed me to breathe easier once he raced out of the room.

  A few minutes later, one of the blondes entered the bedroom. She wore a black T-shirt and jeans now. She still looked hot.

  “Hello, Mr. Masters,” she said.

  “Hi, Rhonda.”

  “I’m Melissa.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Hi, Melissa.”

  “Just messing with you. I really am Rhonda.”

  “Help me, Rhonda. Get me out of this mess,” I sang.

  She sat on the bed and placed a palm on my forehead like a mother checking a child for a fever.

  “You’re not helping,” I said.

  “Do you have any idea how many people sing the Beach Boys to me?”

  “Let me guess. Two thousand.”

  “At least.”

  “So I’m not original. But I am psychic. Your last name is Ringo, isn’t it?”

  “Based on your originality, you’re going to ask if George, Paul, and John are in the next room.”

  “George and John are dead, so I wasn’t going to go there.”

  “We could have their ghosts.”

  “I’m betting you’re not a Beatles fan.”

  “You’d win that bet, Mr. Masters.”

  “Call me Brett,” I said. “Better yet, let me go and call me for a date sometime.”

  “You’d date a kidnapper?”

  “I’m like a male Patty Hearst.”

  “Before my time.”

  “Before mine, too, but I watched a documentary about her on Netflix. We could watch movies together, make love on the beach in Bali, dine at an outdoor cafe in Paris, swim with the dolphins in Florida.”

  “Just you and me, huh?”

  “Your sister can come, too. There’s enough of me to go around.”

  She laughed.

  I liked her smile.

  I didn’t like the fact that she’d abducted me, but she had shown me a breast, so that made up for it even though I had to imagine the other.

  She patted me on the chest. “Do you need to use the restroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aw,” she said. “You’re going to have to hold it because I’m not letting you out of your bonds yet.”

  “The operative word there is yet.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you’re so cute.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You actually think you’re going to get out of here alive.”

  “Oh, come on. This has been fun so far,” I said. “Don’t spoil it.”

  She touched my forehead again. This time she nodded. “Yep, it’s setting in now.”

  “What’s setting in?”

  “The fever.”

  “But it’s not Saturday night.”

  She gave me another smile. “And you’re not John Travolta.”

  “True that. I also can’t sing the Bee Gees because the falsetto kills me.”

  “You won’t have to worry about that because the fever will kill you before the falsetto.”

  “Good to know,” I said.

  “You should start feeling the effects soon. I’ll set you free when you die.”

  “If I die, it will be a moot point.”

  “No. When you die, we’ll control your body.”

  “You forgot something.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m a wizard.”

  “We didn’t forget, sweetie.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. Then I focused my magic and untied the knots without touching them.

  I sat up in bed and put my arms around Rhonda, pulling her close. I whispered in her ear, “You can have the sickness back, baby.”

  And I blew the fever into her ear.

  The crazy thing about magic is that once you understand how to bend it to your will, you can do all sorts of cool shit. I hated to use it much because I didn’t like the pain of biting or cutting myself, but thanks to Lakesha, I’d been practicing.

  A lot.

  Rhonda blinked a few times, and looked confused. I rolled her off the bed so I could stand. The bonds on my ankles fell away as I moved. See? Magic rocks.

  “I don’t know what kind of magic you used,” I said, “but I sure hope you know how to heal yourself because I’d still like to have some fun with you and your sister. That would be amazing.”

  She opened her mouth and reached inside. When she pulled her fingers free, she tugged a wisp of white smoke out of her mouth and shook it away.

  I smiled at her. “I trust you’re all better now too?”

  She nodded. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “We thought you were the fake Brett Masters.”

  “Say what?”

  “We’ve been keeping tabs on him. We thought you switched places with him for the signing so you could meet with your father. We didn’t mean to do anything to you, Mr. Masters. We were after the effigy. Honest.”

  “How did you even know about the fake?”

  “I told you, we’ve been keeping tabs.”

  “And what dastardly deeds did you have in mind for my doppelgänger?” I asked, trying to sound more like the other Brett.

  “We were going to turn him over to the Matriarch to fulfill our mission.”

  “What exactly is your mission, my dear?”

  She smiled at me. “It’s a secret,” she said.

  I should have expected it, but I’m not the brightest bulb on the branch. A magic rope dropped over me and tightened, pulling my arms to my sides.

  I spun around to see Melissa Ringo in a low-cut blouse and tight blue jeans. She held a glowing rope like Wonder Woman’s lasso, and pulled on it, making me take a few steps toward her.

  Rhonda came up behind me and nibbled on my ear before saying, “Wizards are so overconfident.”

  “Can you nibble my ear again?” I asked. “That was hot.”

  “You’d best take us seriously, Mr. Masters,” Melissa said.

  “I’ll take you any way you want.”

  “You’re a handsome man, Mr. Masters, but you aren’t our type.”

  “What kind of man do you like?” I asked, trying to point to myself as I said it. The damn rope paralyzed my arms.

  “Jason Momoa is my type.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Drogo on Game of Thrones? Aquaman? Conan?”

  “I thought Arnold was Conan.”

  As I spoke, I bit my cheek again. I focused my magic and canceled out the effects of the rope. But I let her hold me for now because I wanted more information.

  “Don’t be cute.”

  “I can’t help it. I was born this way. What about you, Rhonda? You a Drogo fan too?”

  “I’m more of a Joe Jonas fan, though Bruno Mars will do in a pinch.”

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  “We’re going to let you go, but you’ll have to be unconscious first.”

  “You’re not going to hit me are you? I really don’t want a concussion.”

  “No. We’re
going to nerve pinch you like we did before.”

  “I’ll pass,” I said, dodging Rhonda’s attempt to grab me. As I ducked, I yanked the rope off, spun, and wrapped it around Rhonda.

  She stiffened as the rope’s effects caught her. I shoved her onto the bed, and gave Melissa a smile.

  “If you’ll step aside, I’ll walk out of here.”

  She stepped to the side, her eyes focused intently on me for any move I might make.

  I faced her as I moved around her and walked backward into the hallway.

  A growl sounded behind me.

  I didn’t bother to look. “Cannibal, sit,” I said with authority.

  A whimper sounded and I chanced a glance. Cannibal sat and stared at me.

  “Good dog,” I said.

  His tail thumped the floor.

  “And now, my dears, I bid you adieu. If you want to go to dinner sometime, give me a call. I’m not a muscle dude or a pretty boy pop singer, but I’ve been known to please a lady or two.”

  “We’re still going after your duplicate.”

  “By all means,” I said. “Give him my regards.”

  And I walked out the front door.

  When I stepped off the porch, my foot came down on a rock.

  “Shit,” I said. So much for making a cool exit. I sighed, went back to the door, and knocked before I opened it. I peeked inside. “Shoes?”

  Melissa smiled and brought me my shoes, socks, wallet, keys, and phone. I gave her a sheepish grin.

  “Thanks.”

  I pocketed my wallet, keys, and phone. Then I hopped a bit as I pulled on my socks. I shoved my feet into my shoes. The dog watched me the whole time. So did Melissa. Rhonda must have still been immobilized on the bed, so at least I didn’t look like a complete idiot to all of them.

  When I finally got my shoes on, I shrugged and said, “This time I’m really going. See ya.”

  Melissa waved.

  I waved back.

  Cannibal barked.

  I walked down the street and realized I had no fucking clue where I was.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Google Maps is a wonderful thing. I was able to pinpoint my position and call an Uber. While I waited for the driver to show up, I leaned against a fence and called Sabrina.

  “Hey, cuz,” I said.

  “Where the hell did you go?”

  “Disneyland?”

  “Seriously,” she said.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “You missed the end of the signing.”

  “So?”

  “Wrong answer. You were supposed to fill in for the real Brett.”

  I didn’t bother to argue who was the real Brett. Instead I let her rant and rave for a few.

  The Uber driver showed up in a Toyota. I hit mute on the phone.

  “You’re Brett?” the driver asked. Based on his parking pass, he was a college student from the medical school.

  “That’s what they tell me,” I said as I climbed into the car. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “No problem.”

  “Mind if I continue my phone call?”

  “No worries, dude.”

  I unmuted the call and brought the phone back to my ear. Sabrina was just about out of breath.

  “You done?” I asked.

  “For now.”

  “Good.”

  “You didn’t listen to a word I said.”

  “I caught the gist. I’m a bad boy destined for the dog house. Don’t do anything like that again. Blah blah blah.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Quick question,” I said. “Who knows that the other Brett and I are both in town?”

  “You, me, Brett, Michael, your father. That should be it. Why?”

  “No spies at the restaurant or anything then?”

  “Spies?”

  “Informants. Whatever.”

  “You’re being stupid.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Who else could possibly know?” she asked.

  “The Ringo Twins perhaps?”

  Silence.

  “Sabrina?”

  “Okay, they might know.”

  “They definitely know. They’re the reason I missed the end of the signing.”

  “You met them?”

  “We had a little chat. No biggie.”

  “You need to tell me what happened.”

  “No I don’t,” I said. “Am I filling in for a show this weekend?”

  “Tomorrow night in Austin. You can ride down with Teddy, Chuck, and me.”

  “What about Michael?”

  “He’s heading down there tonight.”

  “I think I’ll ride down with him then.”

  “I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said and hung up.

  The driver dropped me off at the Music Box and I tipped him well.

  “Thanks, dude,” he said and headed out to pick up his next fare.

  I walked around the corner to where I’d parked, and the six-foot-eight black guy was waiting for me. He sat on the roof of my car, no doubt denting it. When he saw me, he smiled and gave me a salute. Sunlight glinted off the rings on his hand.

  “Congratulations, mon,” he said with a bit of a Jamaican accent.

  I stopped a safe distance from the car. “For what?” I asked.

  “Surviving, mon.”

  “Is that a real accent?”

  He laughed. “You think I’d fake an accent, mon?”

  “I think you’re adding ‘mon’ to the end of each sentence to sound Jamaican.”

  Another laugh. “Quite so,” he said, switching to a slightly British accent.

  “The Ringo Twins send you to kill me?”

  “Definitely not.” Now there was no trace of a foreign accent. He sounded like a typical American from the Midwest.

  “Let me hear your Irish accent,” I said.

  “Irish, Scottish, and Australian elude me at the moment. French, too, come to think of it.”

  “What’s your game?”

  “You’d guess basketball, and you’d have been right if not for a knee injury. I could have gone pro, too. Sucks to be me, eh?”

  “You need to work on your Canadian, too.”

  He gave me another smile. “I hire out as a chauffeur from time to time. I work as a bouncer at a club on the Strand on weekends. And I do odd jobs for various interested parties when the need arises.”

  “You here to kick my ass?”

  “Do you want me to kick your ass?”

  “No.”

  “Good, because I also write movie reviews for Too Cool Flicks dot com. I need my hands for typing.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Of course, to kick your ass, I could use my feet. Do all that kung fu stuff.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  He grinned. “Good because I don’t know any kung fu.”

  “We could do this all day, so let’s just cut to the chase. Who are you and why are you sitting on my car?”

  “My name is Gideon Barnes and I was tired of standing.”

  “Well, Gideon, you’re going to leave an ass shaped dent in my roof.”

  “You’re a wizard. You can fix it.”

  “You’re a wizard too, right?”

  The man sure loved to smile. It seemed like everything amused him. “That would be telling.”

  “Dude, I can sense the magic in your veins.”

  Another laugh. “No you can’t.”

  “Well, you’re not a regular guy. That much I know for sure.”

  “Because I’m tall, black, and beautiful?”

  “Will you please get off my car?”

  “As you wish,” he said and hopped down. He gave me an exaggerated bow. “I am here to help you navigate the maze that lies before you.”

  “By serving me up to the Ringo Twins?”

  “If they were able to get you that easily, my time would be better spent elsewhere. Congratulation
s, you passed the first test.”

  “And I didn’t even study.”

  “I suspect you never study.”

  “Who hired you to look out for me?”

  “That’s not important.”

  “It is to me. If you were hired by the Council, it might mean one thing, and if you were hired by my father, it could mean something completely different.”

  He laughed. “And you don’t know what either one of them would mean. Do you?”

  I frowned. “Maybe you should go drive the Ringo girls around and leave me be.”

  “No. I’m on stage two of my mission now.”

  “Looking after me?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What was stage one?”

  “Making sure the Ringo Twins got you back to their place in one piece.”

  “And then you just left.”

  He shrugged. “Again, if you couldn’t handle them, you’d be a waste of my time.”

  “What’s stage three?”

  “You don’t know, do you?”

  “And you’re not telling.”

  “And they said you wouldn’t catch on.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Indeed,” he said. “Who are they? Is it a literal they or a figurative they? Plural or singular? Alive or a ghost? What is reality?”

  “Oh God,” I said. “You’re not going to be throwing around philosophical questions are you?”

  “Not for you. Instead of contemplating the sound of one hand clapping, I suspect you’d rather spend your evenings watching porn on the internet with one hand wanking.”

  “You’ve been peeking,” I said.

  “You should really clear your internet history.”

  Now I laughed. “I don’t even have a computer right now.”

  He narrowed his gaze.

  “Problem?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re staring at me like I have an extra nose.”

  “Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Masters. I’m going to approach you.”

  “Why would I be alarmed?” I asked.

  He stepped over to me and loomed. He stared down at me. Hard. His eyes bored into my skull, trying to see my soul. He walked around me. Loomed from behind. Looming was his specialty, and he did it well.

  He put his massive hands on my shoulders, which made the skin on my left shoulder prickle painfully, and spun me around to face him. He bent and his eyes stabbed into mine with laser focus.