The New York Magician

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The New York Magician Page 15

by Zimmerman, Jacob


  I crossed to him and shook his shoulder gently. "Melooch. You there?"

  "Unnnh." He slowly shook his head, then looked up. "You? What - ;" he broke off, looked around us at his colleagues who were watching with expressions of fright, shock and confusion. "Oh, no. No, no."

  "He came. DiCanzo called me, like you told him to."

  Melucci put his head in his hands. "What happened?"

  "Don't worry about it." I shook his shoulder until he looked up, and nodded at him. "It's okay. We have to talk."

  When we'd gotten him a drink and managed to gather all the members of the crew back into the room, I laid it out. "That was a fire god. Japanese. He's not starting fires; I believe him. He's looking for parts of himself that were cast into the mountains by his father right after he was born, in Japanese mythology. I'm never sure what to believe or think about timelines with this stuff, but he's here, and he's looking - so I think I'm willing to accept what he's looking for, since it agrees with the stories."

  "What does it want from us?" That was DiCanzo, quiet but still shaken.

  "It wants to go to fires. Somewhere, it thinks, its other pieces are in fire, and if it visits fires it'll find them someday."

  "Why would the pieces of this thing be in fires in New York that haven't even started yet?" one of the other firefighters asked.

  I shrugged. "Good question. But it believes it. Who knows how long it's been searching? But anyway, it's proposing an arrangement based on what's happened so far."

  "What's that?"

  "If you let it ride along, either on Melucci or (I'd suggest) on designated members of each crew, it will do whatever it can to protect all your crewmembers during fires."

  "Protect us?"

  "You saw what it did when it was surprised. It controls fire. It probably won't help you put them out, because it's still looking for itself, but it can make sure the fire doesn't hurt you badly. It may be able to prevent harm coming to you all in other ways, too. If I had to go out on a limb, I'd say that's why you haven't had any serious injuries since Melucci made his deal after 9/11."

  There was muttering. I stood up. "Look."

  DiCanzo waved for quiet. "What?"

  "This isn't my call. It's yours. It'll talk to you now it knows you can see it when it's Riding. I'm going to leave, because I'm the one who threatened it earlier. But it'll be back in a little while. If you want to keep the deal, talk to it and tell it so. It'll keep its word."

  "How do you know?" DiCanzo looked less shaken, but still unsure.

  I grinned at him. "Trust me."

  "Why'd you shoot the ceiling? Why'd you bring the gun? To shoot Melooch if he was out of control?"

  "No." I unshipped the gun again, slowly, and held it in my right hand. "If I'm going to shoot someone, I use my right hand. If I need energy to perform a cast-" I switched the gun to my left- "I use my left hand. I'm not very accurate that way; I'm a right-hander. But I need the energy from the bullets to cast anything."

  "Cast? Like, magic?"

  "Yeah. Good a word as any."

  We looked at each other for a moment. I holstered the pistol. DiCanzo held out his hand, and I took it. "Thanks. We'll let you know how it goes. If we need help, can we…?"

  I nodded. "You have my number. You see anything weird and think I can help, call me. Anytime."

  I left the firehouse and walked home, working the shakes out of my legs. I hadn't said a word about it to the crew, but DiCanzo had picked up on the fact that I'd showed up loaded for bear, and he was right. If Kagu Tsuchi had turned out to be a more hostile entity, or had decided to try to ensure that there were no witnesses to its Riding, I would have been forced to try to take it - him - down. And if I'd had to do that, I had no idea if I would have been able to without killing Melucci, too.

  Like I said, shakes.

  * * *

  I didn't hear back from the crew, which I took to be a good sign. I kept an eye on them for a couple of weeks, and they were still working normally. I took this to mean that they'd taken my advice.

  Three weeks later, there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, there was a uniformed NYPD officer outside. I opened the door wider. "Yes?"

  He looked at a card in his hand. "You Michel Wibert?"

  "Yes. What's this about?"

  He looked up at me, grinned. "I gotta cousin. He's a smoke eater. He said you needed this." He handed me the card, actually tipped a finger to his cap, and sauntered back down the hall to the stairs. I watched him slip through the fire door before looking down at the card in my hand.

  It was laminated, and had my picture on it. Across the top, it said: STATE OF NEW YORK, County of NEW YORK - LICENSE TO CARRY PISTOL IS HEREBY GRANTED.

  My personal information was filled out neatly on the card with a battered typewriter. I bounced it in my hand twice, laughed, and went back inside to order a catered-in dinner for Engine Company 24.

  Table of Contents

  Author's Introduction

  Part 1 - Denizens of New York

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Part 2 - Between Wind and Water

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Part 3 - On Earth and Fire

  Chapter I

 

 

 


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