The Haunted Onsen

by Phil Gabriel

  He was so close I could see his profile out of the corner of my eye.

  I glared at Kitty-Sue, my hyper-vigilant bodyguard, who had somehow missed the killer creeping up on our table. She mouthed a silent, “Sorry,” before turning her attention to my assailant. Blades of crystal were suddenly in her hands, and she said in a calm voice, “If you hurt my boss, you’ll never make it to the door.”

  I noticed he kept me between him and Kitty-Sue, one predator acknowledging the danger posed by another. Even with my better-than-human hearing, I could detect no sounds from him. When stalking, he was as quiet as Akiko.

  The tension was broken by Akiko. She slurped the last of her iced coffee, then waved a hand in the air like a student in class. As my attacker’s eyes flicked to her, she said, “I’m glad you can see me. So, what’s a viscount? Should I call you duke or earl?”

  I finally heard him as he took a deep breath. “Neither. The correct form of address is ‘lord.’” The pressure of the knife blade eased a tiny amount.

  “Lord what?” asked Akiko, leaning forward in interest.

  “Lord Greys—” he started, then corrected himself. “Lord John. John Clayton.” His proper British accent had faded over the years; only the slightest trace remained.

  “Well, Lord John,” said Akiko, “would you mind removing that knife from my teacher’s throat? I still have lots of lessons to do.” Tiny wisps of lightning gathered around her form, and her hair started to rise as she gathered power.

  I like to think it was the sight of my allies—the inhuman kitsune killer; the ghost mage of unknowable power; the strangely thrumming Princess—that stayed his hand. But John had never let fear dissuade him.

  Perhaps it was the genuine regret that he had heard in my voice about the incident with his wife.

  The blade’s pressure eased, and he said, “Of course. I would hate to interfere with a lady’s education.”

  When the blade disappeared, Kitty-Sue put away her knives, and the lightning flashes that circled Akiko faded away. I slumped back into my seat, grateful that my knees hadn’t given out.

  John stepped out from behind me. He hadn’t changed at all in the intervening years: still tall and lean, shaggy dark brown hair, a deep tan, and gray eyes that missed nothing. The faded scar above his left eye was the only imperfection on his face. He moved with the grace of a panther. Despite the heat and muggy rain outside, he was dressed in a well-tailored suit of the finest wool. His only concession to the heat and humidity was the absence of a tie around his neck. He had never liked ties. Hell, he had never much liked clothes.

  Nodding at the empty spot, as if asking permission to join us, he moved to slide the chair back, only to be met with a hiss from Princess. I grabbed Princess and soothed her by rubbing her hilt and motioned for John to have a seat. I kept the magical sword in my hand, her weight a comfort. With her, I had killed a werewolf alpha. John glanced at my hand and smiled, dismissing the danger Princess represented. John had also killed werewolves, but had not needed a magical sword to accomplish the feat.

  Before sitting, he bowed slightly and said, “Hajimemashita, John desu.” Both girls rose, bowed, and introduced themselves. Not only did he speak perfect Japanese, but he had also quickly identified their origin, noting the tiny differences between Japanese features and those of other Asians. John had always been good with languages.

  Tall, dark, handsome, polylingual, a lord, and with a pantie-dropping accent to boot. I was suddenly jealous.

  “John Clayton,” I said, stripping him of any titles, “do we have unfinished business?”

  He breathed deeply, and a look of pain crossed his eyes. “I rescind my vow to kill you.” His mouth tightened as if the words were poison: the face of a proud man admitting a mistake.

  “So, we have a truce?” I insisted. I knew he was not ready to swear an Oath to the man who had violated his wife.

  “We have a truce, Sir James,” he said, extending his hand. I stood, transferred Princess to my left hand, and shook his. His grip was firm but not overpowering. Although he had out arm-wrestled bull gorillas, he had no need to impress me with his strength.

  “Truce, Sir John,” I said. “But I prefer to go by Scott now. Scott Freeman.” I rarely used the James Covenant identity.

  “A true Scotsman, now, are ye?” he said in a thick Scot’s accent. Instead of being offended at my appropriation of his origins, he laughed.

  At my gesture, he seated himself. “Ladies, Sir Scott, allow me to buy the next round.” The music shifted to the old Tokens song, based on a Zulu piece, about the lion sleeping. Euterpe was weighing in that the Jungle Lord would keep his truce.

  As I sat, John raised an eyebrow at Kitty-Sue. “If you would be so kind as to drop your camouflage?”

  The kitsune bubble dropped, allowing the noise of the bar to fill our space. At the slightest gesture from John, a waitress ran over.

  “Sawatdee-ka.” She waied to John and awaited his order.

  John glanced at Kitty-Sue and Akiko, who indicated that they wanted refills. John sniffed and placed orders in Thai. Another sparkling water for Kitty-Sue, another iced coffee with cream for Akiko, a fresh tumbler of Johnnie Walker Black Label for me, and a Laphroaig for himself. All our preferences gathered from one glance and a sniff. I could tell Kitty-Sue was impressed by the sensitivity of his nose. John had the senses of an animal.

  I noticed our glasses were fuller this time, one and one-half shots instead of a standard shot. The advantage of being a regular here. A taste showed my Johnnie Walker was still one hundred percent original.

  “I don’t know why you drink that blended concoction,” said John. “Only single-malt scotch is real scotch.”

  Glad to be off the uncomfortable subject of his wife, I replied, “It’s not the best in the world. But it’s pretty damn good, and I can find it in almost any bar in the world.” Indicating his drink, I continued, “This is probably the only bar in Soi Cowboy that has Laphroaig.”

  “That’s why I chose this bar for our meeting,” John said. “Now why are you in my territory?”

  Kitty-Sue opened her mouth to respond that she had more right to be here than this arrogant Westerner; but she bit back her reply at my head shake. Magicians are territorial, as adapting to an area and learning to use the flows of local magic linked most of us to our chosen home.

  “We’re innocent tourists. It’s a free country,” lied Kitty-Sue. “Why did you invite us here, to this hooker bar?”

  “I felt the presence of another magician in my territory,” said John. The music shifted to an old Phil Collins song, “In the Air Tonight.” “I narrowed down your location and left a message at your hotel.”

  Taking a sip of his drink, John continued, “I tracked you, but didn’t recognize you.”

  “You didn’t recognize Scott?” said Kitty-Sue, surprise in her voice.

  “Neither scent nor sight was the same as the man I knew,” said John. “It was only when I heard his voice that I recognized him.” Turning to me, he said, “You’ve changed a lot in these last few years.”

  “It’s the haircut,” I said. The changes I had undergone were extensive. Added height, because short men are underappreciated; changes in my scent, due to consorting with dragons; and extra muscle mass, which helps in a fight. I was very different from the skinny kid he had met in Vietnam.

  “Still, the question remains,” said John. “What are you doing in my territory?”

  Now that we had a truce, I could answer his questions. “What all magicians do. We’re looking for rare treasures and magical artifacts.”

  “I know who you are!” said Akiko, interrupting our discussion.

  “Really?” asked John.

  “Oh, it’s obvious,” she said, waving a hand in the air.

  “You’re British. Right?” she said. John raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, assenting to the obvious.

  “You were an orphan. Right?” she asked. John nodded.

  “Yo
u were raised by a family that treated you as a different species, who knew nothing of magic. Right?” she continued. He nodded again.

  “Your story is detailed in dozens of books and movies. Right?” John nodded again, a trace of a smile on his face.

  “And that scar on your forehead,” she said with satisfaction. “That’s a dead giveaway.”

  “So, milady ghost,” said John. “Who am I?”

  In the background, the stereo started playing an old Ray Stevens parody song, “Guitarzan.” The dancers on the stage milled around uncertainly before dancing to the new music.

  Crossing her arms and nodding to herself, Akiko announced triumphantly, “You’re Harry Potter!”

  The scar on John’s forehead turned red.

  13

  Meeting Lady Jane

  “Bad guess?” asked Akiko, waving away his anger. “Never mind, I’ll figure it out eventually.”

  Taking control of the conversation, I said to John, “So why are we here?”

  “I told you,” John said, “I sensed another magician in my area. You know better than most that I don’t leave threats behind.”

  Although this was true, it wasn’t the full truth. Magicians have ways to mislead without telling a lie. “No,” I repeated, “why are we here, in this particular bar at this particular time?”

  John’s eyes betrayed nothing to me, but Kitty-Sue jumped in. “He wants something from you!” Then she held her hand up. “Wait, not you. He didn’t know it was you until just now. He would have ignored a low-threat magician. What can Scott do that other magicians can’t? Something obvious from his scent or aura?

  “You’re looking for a healer!” she said. John reluctantly nodded. Kitty-Sue took a sip of her fizzy water and smiled at her deduction. “You sensed a healer here in Bangkok and hunted him down.”

  At John’s tiny smile, confirming her deduction, Kitty-Sue smiled.

  “But you don’t need a healer,” said Akiko, who had examined John with superhuman senses. “You’re in perfect health. You need a healer for someone else, someone you care about.”

  Looking at me, John said, “How do you keep any secrets around these two? I haven’t seen anything like that since I worked with Sherlock.”

  Unwilling to be sidetracked, Kitty-Sue inhaled deeply and said, “I smell someone in this bar. Someone who was recently touched by John. An older woman? Yes, that’s it.” Turning her head towards the door behind the bar, Kitty-Sue said, “She’s up there, upstairs.”

  I took a final drink of my Johnnie Walker, finishing the glass as I thought. All the puzzle pieces were there, the only thing that didn’t fit was Kitty-Sue referring to the person as “an older woman.” John’s mate was kept young by the same pills that had maintained John’s youth and vigor.

  “John,” I said, suddenly certain, “did the immortality drug stop working for her?”

  “Aye,” he muttered, “almost twenty years ago. She started slowing, sleeping more, aging.” The bar’s sound system shifted to an old Queen song, “Who Wants to Live Forever.”

  “And you waited until now to ask for help?” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Kitty-Sue, “you must know other healers. Scott can’t be the only healer you know. Why not call on them?”

  “Many have tried,” said John, “but none have been able to help. The African magic that is the root of our immortality is alien to our Western magic.”

  “So, go back to Africa,” said Akiko.

  “I searched the African continent up and down,” he said. “Five years searching for that tribe that had the secret to the longevity pills. All to no avail. Much has changed in Africa. Those people are gone, and their secrets with them.”

  “So,” said Kitty-Sue, “you’re down to sniffing out random healers who cross your path. Desperate customers make for good Deals.” She smiled her self-satisfied smirk, ignoring John’s angry look.

  At my reproving look, she added, “Sorry, just want to make our position clear.”

  “Desperate,” said John in a low voice, “yes, I am desperate. Scott is the last person on Earth I would ask for help. But here I am, asking for help. No other healers have been able to do anything.”

  “That’s because Scott-sensei is the best healer in the world,” said Akiko. “I’m sure he can—”

  I held up a hand, interrupting her, then said, “Akiko-san, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but until we can examine the patient, there’s no way we can guarantee a positive result.” Sure, I’m pretty good, but “best in the world”? I’ve had a lot of failures.

  “Still,” said John, “you’re here, you’re good, and you want something. It can be the basis for a Deal.”

  Time for refills. I needed more information from John before attempting to make a Deal. I waved to the waitress and ordered another round of drinks. When the drinks arrived, the waitress also dropped off three bowls of snacks: peanuts, popcorn, and fried crickets. John and I had survived on raw bugs during our time in the jungles of Vietnam, so the fried version was merely a delicacy. I waited to see if Kitty-Sue or Akiko would like them.

  Not too surprisingly, Kitty-Sue eagerly grabbed a cricket and started munching. I guess her fox form had eaten a lot of bugs. Akiko seemed hesitant, so I said, “Akiko-san, would you like me to transfer some snacks for you?”

  With a tiny shudder, Akiko replied, “No, thank you, Scott-sensei. I prefer the peanuts.” She slid the bowl over and duplicated the snacks to her plane.

  Taking a sip of my Johnnie Walker, I said to John, “So Lady Jane is here? Why not ask her to join us?”

  Looking around at the mostly unclothed staff, John replied, “She would not feel comfortable in this group.”

  Before I could say anything, Kitty-Sue interjected, “Didn’t she used to swing around on jungle vines nearly naked? Seems a bit late to get prudish.” Kitsune didn’t have much use for false modesty.

  “Lady Fox,” said John, “it’s not modesty. To sit here, in the midst of all this youth, beauty, and vigor, is a painful thing for her.”

  “So, if she won’t come here,” I said, “how do you expect us to help her?” The “us” was intentional. I wanted John to know we were a package deal, and any truce or Deal made would have to extend to my entire group.

  “We have a room upstairs,” said John. “We can join her there.”

  “OK,” I said, then finished my drink. “Call for the bill and we can visit Lady Jane.”

  John waved at a waitress and used his forefingers to trace a square in the air, the sign used in Thailand to ask for the bill. I didn’t protest when he paid for all of our drinks. After all, the bastard had almost killed me on sight.

  We walked behind the bar and through the door. The closing door cut out all the sounds from the noisy bar. Excellent soundproofing spell-work. John had always been good at that.

  We entered a small bedroom with one occupant, a grandmotherly type who was seated in a chair, peering at a book through thick-lensed glasses. I looked around for Lady Jane, but only saw this old lady.

  “Jane,” John said loudly, to catch her attention, “we have guests.”

  When she turned her wrinkled face to us, I gasped at the changes. This was Lady Jane, but withered to near death. She struggled to her feet to greet her guests.

  I turned to John. “How did this happen? This is much more than twenty years of aging.”

  “Her deterioration is accelerating,” said John with a frown. “I have done as much as I can for her, but nothing seems to help.”

  He bit his lip in frustration. “Can you help her?”

  I opened my mouth to say that I would do anything to help an old friend and lover, but Kitty-Sue jumped in. “We will have to perform a thorough examination before we decide if we can help.”

  She was right. I had almost given away any bargaining power. We still needed help to track down the samurai’s armor. I had once loved Jane, but couldn’t balance her life against the hundreds that were in danger back in Hakone.


  14

  Saving Sweet Lady Jane

  Looking at Jane, who was peering at us through her glasses, I noted that one eye was clouded with a cataract. She cupped one hand behind her ear to listen. Almost blind, nearly deaf, trembling with stress; I had doubts I could help. I also had to ascertain her mental state. If she was too far gone to consent to a Deal, I couldn’t help her. One of my ironclad rules was to not make Deals with those who couldn’t consent.

  “John, please ask her to sit down, and we will examine her,” I asked.

  As he led her back to the chair, Jane asked, “Who’s with you, John?”

  “Just some professionals who might be able to help you,” he said.

  First, to determine if she was able to consent. I decided to perform some temporary spells to assist her vision and hearing long enough to finish the evaluation. I slid the spectacles off of her nose and examined them. Glass and plastic, with no magical component. My spells would ruin the glasses, but with any luck, she would never need them again.

  I reached into my satchel and pulled out several instruments, as well as a piece of vellum. A few minutes of spell work and the glasses had been modified. The glass lenses removed and replaced with constructs of Air and Spirit. Akiko hovered close, eager for any chance to improve her knowledge.

  As I worked, I explained to my student, “I use Air to form refracting lenses. Spirit to transfer the light to the inside of her eyes, bypassing the clouded corneas.”

  “Can’t you have the light’s, mm, information travel directly to her optic nerve?” she asked.

  “Information overload,” I said with a shake of my head. “Too much, too fast, would cause headaches, confusion, and eventually a stroke. We should always try to use the body’s built-in systems.”

  “And for her hearing?” she asked.

  “On the earpieces, I have placed two small disks of Air,” I said. “They will capture sounds, transfer the sounds to ultrasonic, then focus the ultrasonics to her cochlea, allowing her to hear.”