You Wish (Rise of the Discordant Book 3)

by Christina McMullen

  “I doubt it,” said Donna with an apologetic frown. “Because of the nature of the paradox, it would have to channel through Eller. If his conviction is strong enough to remain an atheist despite his mystic abilities, no theologically based magic is going to work on him.”

  “Oh,” I said with a heavy sigh. It made perfect sense, but that didn’t make the situation any less frustrating.

  “But…” Louise said slowly, tapping her fingers on her chin as she stared off absently. “Just because a spell won’t work, doesn’t mean that there’s nothing that can be done.”

  “I don’t follow,” I said, glancing over at Desmond and Donna. Neither of them seemed to be following Louise’s logic either.

  “He’s an atheist. He won’t believe in anything unless there is statistics, analysis, and proof,” she said, turning to us with a wide smile. “Are you forgetting who I am and what I do for a living?”

  “You’re a pencil pusher at some office job that requires suits and panty hose,” Donna said with a hint of disgust.

  “Well someone has to be able to cover the rent when her roommates come crying about losing their crummy minimum wage jobs,” Louise said with haughty indignation.

  “Like you’re not always broke too?” Donna fired back. “Louise, Zazzy Nails gets more of your money than the landlord does.

  “Okay, but what does this have to do with Eller’s situation?” I asked, somewhat because I truly had no idea what Louise was getting at, but mostly because I did not want to get caught in the crossfire of a financial argument between two women with magical abilities.

  “I’m an analyst!” she huffed with an expectant look. When my confusion didn’t lift, she went on. “Oh my…Grr… Logic, data, statistical analysis! These are my strengths!”

  “Well, sure,” I said cautiously. I didn’t want to say anything that might get taken the wrong way, but Louise was an analyst much in the same way that Donna was an inebriation technician. She managed one of the satellite branches of Blackbird Bank and Trust. “I mean, I’m not discouraging anyone from brainstorming ideas.”

  “Just trust me,” she said, patting me on the cheek. “I’ll come up with something.”

  Chapter 8

  Are You There, God? It’s Me, Bogie

  There’s trouble, then there’s this place. Back when I was hauntin’ the Hollywood types, it weren’t nothin’ for me to pop over to Vegas every now and then for a little R&R. See, the portals was right next to each other and everything so it was pretty convenient. As such, I seen all kinds of luck, especially of the bad variety. But I ain’t never seen anyone or anything as cursed with bad luck as the town of Blackbird.

  It weren’t like I was purposefully listening in on the pow wow the other night. Alls I was trying to do was look for an opening in the conversation to tell Red that I was gonna need her help what with us being at work and all. Like I said, I weren’t trying to listen, and after Des and Seth started laying down all the finer point of what was wrong with this place, I kinda wished I hadn’t.

  See, none of this was good for nobody, but especially not for me. It was bad enough that I was banished from Chaos. It was worse that I spent enough time getting chummy with Des to become balanced. But worstest of all, I was also stuck in this here dump, meaning that I was about to find my tushie in the middle of a fight I didn’t want nothin’ to do with.

  And then there was this whole mess with Great Uncle Howie. Yeesh! Talk about Murphy’s Law, right? I mean, sure, part of me knows I gotta take some blame what with him being indentured to Jem and causing a whole mess of problems. Sure, I was the one who suggested he try returning through the bottle. I will also admit that when the plan went belly up, I did maybe have a chuckle at ol’ Howie’s expense, but I never did mean for any of this to cause anyone any permanent damage. Especially not Jem. That kid ain’t harmed a hair on anyone’s head. I mean, sure, now that he and his sister had the same personality types he weren’t as pleasant as he used to be, but that weren’t his fault neither.

  I wanted to do somethin’. I know, generosity ain’t no demon trait neither, but I kinda owed it to the kid to get him outta the mess he was in. Except, the problem was, and here’s the rub, it weren’t like I was in any position to do nothin’. Even if I weren’t banished and Des didn’t have a stranglehold on most of my magic, I was still just a lesser demon. We ain’t lowest on the totem pole for nothin’.

  I mulled this over for a minute and came to the conclusion that my best option at the moment was to forget about everything except my crummy job, so I went back to doing just that. But then as I was pouring a couple of pitchers of the cheap stuff, somethin’ weird started happening. The air got all shimmery and everything had this foggy, otherworldly quality. Then all of the sudden, I weren’t in the Five Penny no more.

  * * *

  The demon stood, hands clasped together as he peered through the fog, searching for anything that might clue him in as to where he was and why. Beyond the void, just out of reach, a figure emerged, no more than a shadow in the distance. For a moment, Bogie was taken aback. The power coming off the figure was enough to make him wonder if he hadn’t been called back to the realm. But as the figure emerged, he realized there was no mistaking the enormous man with the flowing white beard who stood just out of reach.

  “Hubert,” the figure called out in a booming voice. “I must confess; you’re here much earlier than I expected.

  “Oh. Hey there. Um… I am?” Bogie stammered. “Where exactly is here, anyways?”

  “Everywhere and nowhere,” the figure answered. “Outside the Cycle and in the presence of the Creator of Order.”

  “Wowzers! Gee, um…Uh, can I even be here?” he asked, still unsure if the image before him was real or some sort of a joke. “I mean, I kinda feel like a McDonald’s employee who went to Burger King in his work clothes, ya know?”

  “I would say that clearly, you can, because you are, Hubert,” the Creator said with no small hint of amusement. “The question, however, is why are you here?”

  “Yeah, that is a doozy, ain’t it?” Bogie let out his breath with a soft whoosh. “Am I uh… I ain’t dead, am I?”

  “No, Hubert, you are merely between worlds. Though you are outside the Cycle, you’ll notice a distance between us that neither can breach. Your birthright prevents me from bringing you fully into our realm.”

  “No kiddin’,” the demon said with a low whistle. “I’da thunk the only reason I’m here is to be whacked.”

  “I assure you, Hubert, I pose no threat to your continued existence,” the Creator said with a small chuckle. “It is not completely unheard of for one of your kind to find in Order what Chaos could not offer. I have observed you, Hubert, and I feel that one day you too might find peace within our ranks, but today is not that day.”

  “It ain’t?” Bogie asked, more than a little confused. “So what am I doing here?”

  “Your soul has balance, but remains loyal to Chaos.”

  Though he would admit it to no one, this declaration came as a shock to Bogie. Loyalty was a word often thrown around by the upper echelon of demons, but it was mostly meaningless.

  “I am not in a position to challenge that loyalty,” the Creator continued.

  “You ain’t?” Bogie asked, taken aback. “I mean, no offense, but ain’t you the guy in charge?”

  “I am merely the Creator. My imperfect creations decide their own destiny. That is what drives the balance that maintains Order. No Hubert,” the Creator said, tilting its head to the side to regard the diminutive demon. “It is not within my power, but within yours.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “The Cycle of Order is just that; a continuous cycle, but it is not without change. Chaos has no such cycle. The prime purpose of you and those like you is merely to disrupt the Order I have created, which is a balance in and of itself, but I digress. When your purpose has been fulfilled, you will cease to be anything more than an easily forgotten memory and a
nother will rise up to take your place.”

  “Ouchy! Okay, ashes to ashes and all of that I get, but you ain’t gotta be mean about it,” Bogie grumbled.

  “I am merely stating what is,” the Creator corrected. “However, what is, is not necessarily what will be. I see in you a chance for redemption, Hubert. Your loyalty to the realm diminishes with every passing day, yet there is one tie you cannot break.”

  “Great Uncle Howie,” Bogie said, understanding now what the Creator was implying. “You ain’t sayin’ what I think you is sayin’, are you?”

  “I may be a powerful and perfect being, but I am not a mind reader, Hubert,” the Creator reminded him with an amused smirk.

  “But you is a wise guy ain’t ya?” Bogie muttered, but hastily added, “I mean, I ain’t trying to disrespect or nothin’…”

  “Your candor is appreciated,” the Creator assured him. “But all I am insinuating is that while fate can play its hand in deciding our destiny, the future is never written in stone, including yours. You are not being asked to decide the fate of another, rather, I encourage you to pave your own path to your destiny.”

  “Great. I think I read that in my fortune cookie last week,” Bogie grumbled, but as he did, the figure of the Creator faded into the thickening mist.

  * * *

  In the blink of an eye, I was back behind the bar at the Five Penny, pouring the same pitcher of beer as if not even a moment had passed. It was more than a little unnerving and gave me a case of the shivers.

  “Another Goose or another wayward family member?” Desmond asked.

  “Heh, not funny,” I said, trying to dismiss him. The last thing I needed was for Des to know the why-hows of my meeting with his big boss. As it was, I weren’t sure I wanted to think much on it either. “Someone probably just opened the back door.”

  That seemed to work, but after delivering the beers to my customers, I noticed Des was still giving me the stink eye.

  “Need somethin’ boss?” I asked, kinda hesitant.

  “Actually,” he said with one of them grins I didn’t like much. “I nearly forgot. Here.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the itty-bitty bottle with a corked lid that I recognized from the other day. When he set it on the bar, I shivered again.

  “You didn’t,” I said, but immediately backtracked. After all, this was Des we was talkin’ about. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “He went over the line. He convinced Jem and Nai to soul gaze each other, which leaves us without a Guardian for the evening. As I see it, he’s lucky I didn’t enchant a pin cushion.”

  “Yikes! Okay then,” I said with a wince. I ain’t never seen a split soul gaze themselves, but I heard it ain’t pleasant. Them kids was gonna wake up with one hell of a nasty magical hangover. “So uh, what do you want me to do with him?”

  “Leave him in there or let him out upstairs,” Des said with a shrug. “I doubt he’s learned his lesson but at least he knows I’m not bluffing.”

  “No, I imagine he don’t,” I said, noticing the dark energy surrounding the little package getting darker with Uncle Howie’s mood. “Calm down,” I said, muttering to the bottle before slipping it into my pocket. “Commit the crime, get away from the scene in time. If you woulda heeded your own advice you wouldn’t’ve been caught.” From the teeny-weenie magical vibration, I don’t think he liked that too much neither.

  For the next couple of hours I was busy enough pouring beers and mixing drinks that I didn’t have no time to let my mind wander into unpleasant territories. That was the good thing about Mondays and football season. But once the bar was closed up, cleaned up, and everyone sent on their merry way, a whole lotta things I weren’t too keen to think about started busting down my mental doors. I also weren’t ready to have any family heart to heart neither, but leaving my uncle squeezed up in some little bottle weren’t my style, no matter what stupidity he got up to. So, I let him loose in the apartment with a warning not to do anything crazy, and went for a walk to clear my own head.

  See, being summoned by the head honcho of Order weren’t really as disturbing as one might think. Okay, fine, for a minute I did have to wonder if I weren’t about to meet my end. But it weren’t like I was clueless to the fact that some things were changing for me. No, had it been Ajhe who summoned me, I’da been worried my number was up. But the big boss of Order didn’t need to threaten death to make a mess of things. The disturbing part was somethin’ that I been trying not to think about ever since Uncle Howie showed up in the alley Friday night.

  This was the conundrum I was in and apparently, my role in all of this mess didn’t escape the notice of Order. Because I was the one who bottled him, I’m the only one who can break the connection between Uncle Howie and Jem. Except there’s a cost. A pretty big cost. Granted, there’s a pretty big cost either way. If I don’t do nothin’ one of two things happens. Either Jem screws up, falls to Chaos, and becomes a portal, or Uncle Howie does somethin’ to get himself good and whacked, and Jem becomes a portal. Neither way is this a good position to be in for Jem.

  I can change that. Alls I gotta do is take the debt onto me and both Jem and Uncle Howie is in the clear. Except Ol’ Howie ain’t really. See, there’s a price for what he did and the level of magic I’d be bringing down if I were to try would kinda act like a beacon for all those who got it in for the guy. The problem here is Uncle Howie’s crossed a lotta folks in his day. Seeing as our law would be on their side, there wouldn’t be much I could do if one of ‘em decides they wanna implement a permanent solution to their problems.

  I’d been keeping that option off the table. If that’s all that’s holding me back from some sort of redemption in the eyes of Order, so be it. I’ve kinda gotten used to being a pariah. Besidesways, what with all the other nonsense going on, I had to wonder what it would matter anyway. Seems that no matter what, Blackbird was screwed and the end of days was coming. Where that left me was anybody’s guess. Sure, I maybe could make things right for Jem, but that’d still leave a whole herd of metaphorical elephants in the metaphorical room. I may be a lot of things, but I ain’t no murderer.

  Then again, after just a couple few days of livin’ with my uncle, I weren’t so sure about that conviction neither.

  * * *

  “Hey, what’s the deal? You not pay your cable bill?” Uncle Howie’s voice called from the living room, cheating me outta the two minutes of peace I thought I could get in the shower. That didn’t take long. I’d only called the cable company an hour earlier while Howie was passed out.

  “No, but I had ‘em deactivate the pay channels so as to make sure I could still afford my bill,” I shouted, shutting off the water. “I don’t suppose you is feeling generous enough to pay for what you did watch, is ya?”

  “Oh, you got some nerve, Hubert! It ain’t my fault I got trapped here with nothing to do all day.”

  “Oh, you bored now?” I grabbed a towel and stalked outta the bathroom, sidestepping a tower of empty pizza delivery boxes to get to my sofa, where Uncle Howie had parked his rump for the last couple three days. “You might consider raising a finger to keep up on the housework.”

  “You mean my four hundred bucks didn’t pay for the maid service? Lay off me kid. You’re starting to sound like my ex-wife.”

  “Which one?” I asked, only half-flippantly. Uncle Howie weren’t exactly the lucky in love type. I’m not sayin’ that he weren’t partially to blame, what with picking some real crazy dames, not to mention crossing the wrong ones one too many times.

  “Take yer pick,” he grumbled into his beer can. “Harpies, all of ‘em. Even the ones that wasn’t actual harpies.”

  “Ya know, given your track record, I’d say you is pretty lucky to have all of your limbs after what you did to some of ‘em.” In fact, were I to absolve my uncle of his debt to Jem, it wouldn’t surprise me none if the first folks in line to pick him apart limb by limb weren’t a few of his exes.

  “That weren’t
no luck,” he muttered in a voice that made me real suspicious-like.

  “What exactly does that mean?” I asked.

  “Nothing you gotta worry about,” he dismissed, but I didn’t fail to catch the mild threat, which made me even more suspicious. I mean, I ain’t accusing my uncle of nothin’, but all of the sudden I was finding it hard to ignore the fact that I ain’t seen too many of his failed relationships hanging around.

  “Ain’t none of my business,” I agreed, ending the conversation by going to my room to get dressed. Suspicions was one thing. Poking around in someone else’s business was another.

  “Alright,” I said as I was getting ready to leave. “Stay outta trouble and I’ll see about bringing up some beers a little later.”

  “Wait, where the hell are you going?”

  “Work.”

  “But the bar ain’t even open for another couple of hours!”

  “It’s delivery day,” I explained. “I gotta meet the truck out in the alley.”

  “And you’re just gonna leave me here with nothin’ to do? I’m trapped with no form of proper entertainment here! Ever since the kid made me do a three sixty on his personality he ain’t been asking me for much.”

  “A one eighty,” I corrected.

  “Whatever. I ain’t no math professor. I’m just… Bored!”

  “Oh for cryin’ out loud,” I sighed. “Watch some gameshows or somethin’. Or read a book.”

  “Read a book? Read a book? I said I was bored, not that I wanted to be bored to death. Come on, kid, just turn the good channels back on. I thought I was your favorite uncle?”

  “You is! Or at least you was,” I said, losing what temper I had left. “Which is the only reason I ain’t set this whole situation with Jem right just yet.”

  “You what?”

  Ah heck. I didn’t actually mean for that to come out. I looked over at Uncle Howie, who had sunk back down into the sofa and was wearing an expression that told me he had strung two and two together.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said, suddenly without so much bluster. “Wait. Is you threatening me?”