Gaslight Magick

by Teel James Glenn

  The door to the Marble Brother’s office was bolted from within but the two burly security men preceding me slammed themselves against it repeatedly till the bolt gave. I was right behind them.

  The scene we burst in on was as hideous as the one at Hanover Jones’ place. The two Marble siblings were ripped open like slaughtered beef, hanging over their desks with most of their entrails spilled all over the floor.

  Little Tony was just in process of expiring, his rotund body sprawled on the floor before the desk. Standing over him was the same creature that had killed Jones, its jaws once more slathered with fresh gore. It looked up at us, snarled and began to move toward us.

  I drew my sword cane and brandished it, the jewel in its pommel glowing with the etheric energies it was detecting.

  The beast paused and then as if in a nightmare began to waver and dissolve into a smoky mass that blew toward the flue of the fireplace.

  As we watched in stunned inaction the dissolved fiend disappeared up the chimney like a demented version of Father Christmas.

  “What the hell was dat?” One of the bouncers asked when he could speak.

  “I think I finally know,” I managed to whisper. I knelt by the dying Tony. His eyes were unfocused and blood poured from his mouth but he could still make sound.

  “I didn’t mean it.” He hissed through the bubbling blood. “Juice offered me so much money –”

  “It was an artefact?” I asked. “Mike brought it back from Egypt?”

  “Yes.” His voice was weaker and I am not sure he even knew he was speaking to me anymore and not just confessing his sins. “Thought it was just money. Juice--she knew, somehow she knew.”

  “Where does she keep it?”

  “Safe,” the dying man whispered. “Office.” Then his body convulsed and then Little Tony was no more.

  “Jeez,” one of the bouncers said sotto voce, “I ain’t paid enough for this.”

  “Eloquent, sir,” I said as I rose. “Tell that to the police when they arrive.” Then I headed out through the saloon crowd to the carriage. To add to the horror of the situation the warbler had started up again.

  Oh star that leads to God above!

  Whose rays are peace and joy and love!

  Watch o'er us still till life hath ceased,

  Beam on, bright star, sweet Bethlehem star!

  I imagined the words might be comfort for the departed brothers, but they did nothing to improve my mood.

  “What happened?” A very angry Spike shot at me when I jumped into the hansom.

  I ignored her and yelled up to the Scotsman, “Back to Juice’s place, Angus, as fast as you can, things are about to come to a head.” Then to quiet the girl I told her what I had seen and heard.

  “So he as much as confessed he killed Mike?” she was so shocked by the betrayal of her former employee that her anger at me for excluding her was blunted.

  “Not quite,” I said. The highlander was threading the carriage through the busy streets with a recklessness abandon that would put any London Cabbie to shame.

  “But you said--“ She began.

  “No,” I injected, “I think he honestly thought it was just going to be a robbery-- perhaps he even intended to pass it off as the work of someone else. But then things went wrong. If I am right it was much more than he bargained for. Yet, somehow, Juice knew exactly what she was having him steal.”

  “ What was it?” She all but grabbed me to try and force the words from me but Angus was already pulling to the curb in front of Juice’s emporium so I jumped from the hansom.

  “I’ll show you inside,” I said. “Come on, Angus, we’ll need that coach gun of yours.” I raced ahead of Miss Ellenbogen and up to the Iroquois door guard.

  “Your mistress is in danger,” I said with real urgency in my tone. “We must see her.”

  He looked at me with curiosity. “Is this so, Akweks?”

  “Yes.” My tone and the anxious faced of my companions convinced him it was so. I did not tell him that we were the probable reason that his boss was going to be in danger, but who was I to split hairs?

  The Mohawk led the three of us into The Iron Apple and across the main floor to a corridor accessed by a door guarded by yet another of his tribe.

  I could sense that Spike wanted to ask me exactly what we were doing, but was wise enough to realize she could not do it in front of the Mohawk. She did fix me with a cold stare and I smiled back as nonchalantly as possible.

  We were escorted down the corridor to a second door, outside of which stood the female Mohawk guard from before.

  Our guide spoke to her briefly and the siren stepped aside for we three to enter, though her grim expression showed she was not convinced. We ushered into the sanctum of Juice Martin, a large, lavishly appointed office-cum-lounge.

  The saloon owner was seated on a couch with one of the painted women from before rubbing her feet. The other woman from the box was pouring a drink from a small bar on the side of the room when we entered and all three turned to gawk at us.

  “What is all this, Orenda?” Juice asked of the Mohawk.

  I felt quite the cad, but before our guide could answer-- and the second the door was closed-- I spun quickly and slammed my walking stick against the Mohawks head, rendering him very unconscious. I would have many apologizes to make to him should I survive what was about to happen.

  “Angus-- cover them!” I yelled and the coachman produced his gun from beneath his coat.

  The two women froze but Juice made to spring up from her couch and speak. I would not allow that.

  I leapt forward and drew my sword blade and pressed it directly to her throat.

  “Do not utter a sound, madam, I said, “ not a single sound that could be construed as an order or I will slit your throat. I know everything.”

  Here eyes widened with that. She almost spoke but she saw the determination in my eyes and remained silent.

  “What is going on, Athelstan,” Spike asked, unable to contain herself any longer.

  “In a moment, Spike, first I need to get some information from this lady. Silently!”

  I stared daggers at Juice. “With just your fingers indicate the numbers of your safe,” I said. “But no sounds or I will find out if the cracksman skills I learned at final form of school are still up to the challenge.” She saw I was serious and quickly formed numbers with her hands.

  “20, 43, 50,” I repeated. “Spike, go to that painting there-- the horrid landscape-- and try the safe behind it.”

  “Right or left?” She asked when she slid the picture aside to reveal a wall safe.

  “Try a couple of combinations and see--“ I said. “We don’t dare ask this ‘lady’-when that is open I promise all will be explained.”

  Spike’s second attempt at the combination worked and the safe door swung open to reveal the cavity within which was divided into several shelves. I could see paper money, some jewels and other papers and the thing I had thought would be there on the top shelf.

  “That,” I nodded to the object. “Take it out and say these words. “I command thee now.”

  “What?’ Spike said.

  “No!” Juice screamed. Despite my sword point at her throat she started to turn and headed for Spike. I jumped forward and clotted her on the side of the head with my left fist hard enough to stun her and drop her to her knees.

  “Do it, Spike, now. Those words! Exactly”

  She looked at me like I had sprouted wings, but she obeyed.

  “I command thee now,” Spike said.

  There was a rushing sound in the room, a brilliant flash of blue light and then that strange little man in the brown suit from The Bucket of Blood stood before Spike, though now his clothing was bright scarlet and gold silks styled after the Egyptian fashion.

  “Thank Allah,” The little man said. He looked at me and bowed. “You understood all, Azizi,” he said, “For that I thank you. Now I serve only Miss Ellenbogen, as it should be.”
<
br />   Spike looked stunned, almost dropping the old style Arabic oil lamp she held in her hand.

  “Oh my God,” she said, “He’s a Genie!”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Answers like the Wind

  “A Djinn,” the little man said. “A race made by Allah of fire and smoke to serve his later creations such as man.”

  “But- but –”

  “Damn you, Limey bastard,” Juice hissed from her knees.

  “Doesn’t matter what you say now,” I said, re-sheathing my sword cane. “You can’t order this fellow-“

  “I am called Abdul-Ghafur,” the little Djinn said in a quiet, self-assured voice.

  “Abdul then, anymore,” I continued with a nod. “Only Spike can. Like Mike did.”

  “Mike?” Spike said.

  “Yes,” I said. “He bought that lamp in Cairo-- I remember him looking in a window that had it. Of course, I don’t think he knew what it was then-“

  “No, Azizi,” Abdul said. “He discovered me and my powers on the airship on the way home.” He looked sad. “He was a good man. No master I have ever had in the two thousand years since Solomon confined me to that lamp has been so gentle and unselfish in his desires or actions. He wished only for the money he needed to begin your café, Mistress Spike, and he was careful to say it should not come from anyone who needed it and hurt no one in the acquisition. He thought carefully about every wish he made that none were harmed by them. Truly a unique and caring man.” He made a little reverent gesture at the thought of Mike and I found myself liking the little fellow.

  “That’s why Mike forgave all those debts,” Spike said with quiet awe in her voice. She looked at the lamp in her hands and then at the little brown man with a shocked expression.

  “Kill them,” Juice screamed from her knees. “Stop them you stupid little freak!”

  Abdul regarded her as I have seen dogs look at fleas. “I had to obey her words when she was possessor of the lamp-- as she spoke them. Please understand, mistress Spike. I had to.”

  “When she sent you to kill the other saloon owners?” I said. I had deduced it had to be that way, but to hear it made me feel all the more for the little fellow. And for Spike who had to hear the details.

  “Yes,” Abdul said. “I had orders to kill anyone who tried to stop me from killing Mister Hanover Jones and then to kill anyone in the room with the Marble Brothers.”

  “It was why you tried to warn us to stay out.” I said. My admiration for the Djinn was deepening, for I could imagine his adherence to the protocols of his existence were stretched to the limit to try and save Spike and myself.

  “Yes,” he nodded. “I had no orders not to speak to you--“ he turned to bow slightly to Spike--“and yet I hoped to save you, Mistress Spike.”

  “Kill them!” Juice hissed again, her lips fairly foaming, her complexion florid and eyes wide. “I command you, tear them to pieces, rip their livers out, gut them!”

  “Shut up!” Spike said to her then turned to Abdul. “You—you killed Mike, didn’t you?”

  Before the little man could speak I interjected, “Don’t blame him, if he did, Spike. He had to obey any orders she gave him with an exactitude he cannot control. It is the nature of world of Djinn as laid down by Solomon.”

  “And Allah,” the Djinn added, “It is so, mistress. I did not kill Master Mike, however. Mistress Juice came to meet the one called Little Tony who knew where my lamp was hidden, though did not know of its power. But she did; she had guessed it and my power and knew!” He pointed at the kneeling, near apoplectic Juice.

  “Yes I stuck the pig,” Juice snapped. “ He came after Tony had opened the cabinet for me. He tried to stop me so I gutted him then had my little pet genie go to and make it worse; strike real fear in all of them that thought me less for being a woman.” She laughed and there was an echo of the insane in her tone.

  “And you set about eliminating everyone of the others to rise to what you considered the top of the pyramid,” I said. “When all you had to do was wish up money like Mike did to have everything you ever wanted. You chose vengeance and death over success.”

  “Those pricks deserved it,” Juice said. “You know what a girl has to put up with to deal with the likes of them?”

  “Mike was never like that!” Spike protested.

  She set the lamp down now and moved across the room to face the kneeling Juice directly. So tall was the murderess that on her knees she was almost eye level with the petite Spike. “He was a kind man; he never took advantage of any woman; of anyone, ever!”

  Juice laughed. “You think you know your holier-than-though brother? He wanted me, alright-“

  The companion that had been massaging Juice’s feet snickered then. Juice shot her a look. “Rachel don’t you--“

  “You can’t lie about it, Juice,” Rachel persisted, “You was all over him and he wanted no part of you.”

  Juice spun on her knees and backhanded the girl bodyguard hard enough to stagger her.

  The Mohawk outside the door started to beat against it.

  “Spike,” I said, “Tell Abdul to keep her from raising the alarm.”

  “What?” She said.

  “Tell him in those words,” I insisted. “Repeat it.”

  “Keep her from raising the alarm, Abdul,” Spike said.

  The little brown man seemed to flicker like a torch flame then smiled. “It is done, Mistress.”

  The pounding on the door had stopped.

  “What—what did you do?” Spike asked.

  “I simply used the essence of the poppy to cause the lady guardian to become very sleepy, Mistress,” the Jinn said. “I did not think anything more permanent was needed.”

  “Yes, right,” she said. “That is fine.” She seemed a bit overcome by the suddenness of it all and sat down in an overstuffed leather chair. Abdul stepped to her side and produced a cup and saucer.

  “Tea, Mistress, to calm you nerves?” He said.

  The girl took the tea and sipped before she realized she had. “He’s a-a-genie!”

  “Yes, Spike,” I said. “ He is a Djinn-”

  “Thank you, sir,” Abdul said at my correction. “It is a fine point, but words do matter. Precise words.”

  “And you have some new responsibilities now, Spike.”

  “Responsibilities?”

  “Yes, Persian, Indian and Aztec magicks are just as strong as Merlinian,” I said. “Perhaps a fair sight more, in fact. In any case, Like Mike you have great power now to literally make a wish and have it granted.”

  “A wish?” She sounded stunned.

  “Many, Mistress,” Abdul said. “I am bound by All Wise Solomon to obey the words as you speak them, within the limits of the great one Allah’s constructions of the universe I will do what I can to fulfil your wishes.”

  “And with the exact words, I suspect,” I added, “If legends are to be believed.”

  “Just so, azizi,” Abdul concurred. “And while I have some latitude to interpret the words it is best to not be a ambiguous do avoid disappointment or disaster.”

  “You mean Mike could--“

  “Yes,” I said. “Your brother could have been greedy or cruel or vindictive like Juice, but he chose not to. He was a good man beyond any we have ever known, Spike.”

  “He wished for the money to cover all the debts owed him,” the Djinn said. “And to endow the charity hospital and orphanage here on the island of Manhattan. He was very clear that no one was to be harmed or denied their own hard worked for gains.” His expression became sad. “Truly the best master I have had.” He looked at me. “You are correct sir that he was extraordinaire among the sons of Allah for his goodness.”

  At that Juice screamed an incoherent cry of anger and thrust her hand into her skirts from which she pulled a small derringer. She jumped to her feet and pointed the pistol at Spike.

  “Die, bitch!” Juice said. “That lamp is mine!”

  “No!” Angus yelle
d and blasted away with his coach gun. The saloon owner was blown backward in a sudden and ugly spray of gore.

  Rachel screamed while her companion floozy simply fainted.

  “Oh my God!” Spike said. I sprinted to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Easy, girl,” I said. She took several deep breaths and composed herself admirably.

  “I’m okay,” she said then indicated the hyperventilating Rachel. “But she isn’t.” She turned to Abdul. “Can you quiet her down like the guard?”

  The Djinn nodded and there was another blue flash. The panicked girl closed her eyes and she gently collapsed to the floor. In a moment she was snoring peacefully.

  “What now?” Spike asked. She was as rum as her brother had been; as Nenetl had been. She was absorbing startlingly swift changes to her life with amazing aplomb. I am not sure I could have done as well; I know I did not do as well with my jaguar’s loss.

  “Well,” I said aloud. “If Abdul can make these ladies forget we were here, and erase my treachery from this Mohawk fellow’s memory we can decamp and you begin your life as a very thoughtful wish-maker.”

  “They say power corrupts,” Spike said as she rose to look down at the gory corpse of Miss Martin. “How did Mike resist? How can I?”

  The little brown man smiled and gave a slight nod. “You are blood of his blood, flesh of his flesh, Mistress Spike,” he said. “I have faith you will do what is right.” With that he wavered and dissolved into a column of smoke that flowed across the room to enter the lamp and, with a curled tendril pulled the stopper into place to seal the vessel behind him.

  “I second that, lassie” Angus said. “Bully!”

  “Indeed,” I said. “Let’s get out of here and get out of these clothes into some fresh ones; I think we might make it up to the opera before Wotan walks off into the fire; Aunt Mini is going to want to hear about this all first hand.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  And That Time Folds Back

  I was correct Mini was in a proper snit that I had all the ‘fun’ of running around the city and getting into fist and gunfights without her.