Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  “I think you’re more excited than I am.”

  Hunter shrugged. “I’m just happy for you.””

  “Well, I appreciate it,” Bert said, then switched topics. “So, I figured I’d take you to the office today.”

  “Is that another strip club?” Hunter asked. “You know you can’t be hanging out at those places now.”

  “No.” Bert chuckled. “It’s the place where I work. My office. Falcon Eyes Hands-On Investigations of Privates.”

  “Oh,” Hunter said, then he shrugged and sat back in his seat. “That’s some name.”

  ***

  The Falcon’s Nest was as he’d left it, and Farrah greeted him with a scowl as he led Hunter toward her desk. She crossed her arms and said, “It’s about time you check in. I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Sorry, Farrah, I’ve been pretty busy,” he replied. With everything else going on, it had never occurred to him they might be worried about him.

  She gave him an icy stare and said, “Mmmhmm…”

  “Oh, quit giving him a hard time,” Falcon said, appearing from the inner door. “Ye ole witch.”

  She stuck her tongue at him, but then smiled. Falcon grinned back, then turned to Bert. “Sup, dawg? Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Hunter, one of my best friends.” Turning to Hunter, he said, “This is Falcon and Farrah, my employers.”

  Hunter stuck out his hand to Farrah and then moved to Falcon and did the same. “Nice to meet you guys. I didn’t even realize Bert had a boss… Er, bosses?”

  “If there’s a boss around here, it’s definitely her,” Falcon said, pointing at Farrah. “But we’re really more like friends who pay him to do the work no one else wants to do. I’m not sure Bert could handle having a ‘boss.’ ”

  “That sounds about right,” Hunter said, laughing.

  “So, what do you do?” Falcon asked.

  “Oh, I’m a cop,” Hunter said.

  “A law dawg! Cool!” Falcon said, beaming. “I used to be in law enforcement, and we work with the local authorities here quite a bit.”

  As Falcon immersed himself in conversation with Hunter, as he was prone to do with anyone he met, Bert turned back to Farrah. She smiled at him and innocently asked, “So, have you made progress on that secret case of yours?”

  “No.” Bert shrugged. “And I’m running out of time. Do I have any messages?”

  “Just the usual stuff. Mr. Henderson called about the aliens probing him again.”

  “Of course he did.” Bert sighed. His last hope was that one of his contacts would’ve heard something useful by now. Farrah and Falcon had nothing. Mack had nothing. His brother had nothing. If Carter knew anything, he sure as hell wasn’t going to share. The Hound had led him to the were-critters, but that had been a false lead. And the Underbelly had been a dead end, too. Every time he’d thought he’d found something useful, he’d been wrong. Now time was running out and he didn’t have a single suspect, nor a single clue. Not one single lead. Some person was carrying a powerful object in his neck of the woods, and not a single player in the whole area knew anything about it. On top of it, someone had specifically given out his name, and he still had no idea who. Yet he couldn’t help the feeling he’d missed something. Like the answer had been right in front of him. If it was, he’d definitely missed it. No suspects. No clues. No leads. No plan of action… No hope.

  He noticed the room had gone silent, and glanced around at their concerned faces. Realizing his desperation must’ve showed, he tried to shove it back down. It was too late. They might not understand the ramifications of his failures, but they’d seen it on his face. The look of a man without hope.

  What was left to do? He could spend the day visiting his contacts again, or, he could make the rounds and say his goodbyes. Maybe try to fix things with Neil. Spend some time with Lilith. Today was all he had left. At midnight, his life was forfeit, and quite likely, some of the bastards would make good on the threats against his friends. Perhaps he should go to Carter, tell him the truth, and see if the Hand could hide his friends before the clock struck midnight and he turned into a pumpkin.

  Farrah’s brow was furrowed in concern, and she was biting one lip. Then her face lit up with the look of someone who’s just remembered something important. “There was one other message, Bert. I’d almost forgotten.”

  “Oh?” Bert asked, feeling the slightest glimmer of hope.

  “Yeah, this grumpy ass-hat called this morning and said, ‘Tell Waylon to call the Hound.’ Does that mean anything?”

  Bert’s face must’ve lit up like a Christmas tree. The Hound! He must’ve heard something! Of course he did. He wouldn’t have called otherwise. Bert bolted for his office, yelling over his shoulder, “Thank you, Farrah! I’ll be right back!”

  He flew through the door and made a mad dash down the hall.

  The flipping Hound! He was often the most reliable source of information around. Very little happened in Bert’s part of the world without the Hound finding out about it. That’s where he should’ve started. Day one, he should’ve hit him up and got the ball rolling.

  But, he thought, even if the Hound had found something… What then? Even if he tracked the person down and found the object, what would he do? He’d die before he turned it over to any of the assholes who’d threatened him. Even if that were an option, he doubted he could chop it up and tell them all to share.

  One step at a time, he told himself.

  “Calm down,” Sharp said. “You’re acting like a child in a toy store. Or, like an adult, in a ‘adult’ store.”

  “He must have something,” Bert replied.

  “Well, you’ll never find out if you have a heart attack before you call him. Do more cardio.”

  “Shut your face.”

  “I don’t have a face to shut, because…I’m a sword.”

  “Oh, your hilt doesn’t have a dragon’s face on it?”

  “Hmm,” Sharp replied thoughtfully. “Touché.”

  Bert made it to his office, picked up the phone, and dialed the number for the farm. He had it memorized.

  The phone rang once and Bert fidgeted.

  The phone rang again and Bert heard himself mutter, “Come on. Come on. Answer.”

  The phone rang a third time and Bert began tapping his foot impatiently.

  The fourth time, he started pacing back and forth.

  The fifth ring was cut off as the farmer’s voice answered, “Hello?”

  “The Hound! I need to speak to the Hound!” Bert rasped out in a burst.

  The farmer paused and said, “Who this?”

  “Waylon Drake,” he replied, trying not to scream.

  “Ah... He said you’d be calling.”

  He held back an angry and impatient retort. In his head, Sharp replied for him. “No shit, you dim witted, stained, tighty-whitey-wearing, mouth-breather.”

  Bert smiled. Despite Sharp having told him to calm down, he was clearly just as excited to find out what the Hound had to say.

  Bert cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s kind of urgent.”

  “He mentioned it was,” the farmer replied, pausing. After a few moments, he sighed. “Guess I’ll go get him for you.”

  “If it’s not too much trouble,” Bert replied through gritted teeth.

  There was a clang, which Bert assumed was the phone smacking against the table. He waited. He paced. He stamped his foot. He waited.

  Finally, in the background he heard the Hound say, “No, jackass, I can’t get up to the table… No, even on my hind legs I’m not tall enough… Fine, just put the goddamned phone on the floor, you imbecile.”

  There was another bang, followed by the Hound saying, “Waylon?”

  “Hound!” Bert replied, his voice a little shriller than he’d intended. He coughed and said, “If you’ve got good news, I’ll buy you a mountain of milk bones.”

  “I don’t know if that’s good,” the Hound said, chuckling. “It isn’t m
uch really…”

  “Sounds like more than I currently have to go on. Tell me.”

  “Eh, maybe we should discuss price first. After last time...”

  “A mountain of milk bones,” Bert repeated. “If your information is good, and I’m alive tomorrow, I’ll make you a literal mountain of milk bones.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” The Hound laughed. “Just pay me the usual price and we’ll call it even.”

  “Okay,” Bert said. “Let me have it.”

  “All right, wizard. This is what I’ve got… Someone stole something powerful from someone very powerful. I’m sure you already know that, but I don’t think you understand how powerful. I’m not sure I understand. This is big, Bert. I can’t get a name. Not even from the best of my contacts. I’ve been told I don’t want to know. That this isn’t information I should be selling. I’ve heard that the Hand doesn’t even know. That to know is to ensure one’s own death, whatever the hell that means. What I do know, is that there’s been a trail of bodies following the thief from place to place. And the owners, whoever they are, they’re hell bent on getting their property back. They have armies at their disposal and serious magic. These aren’t some putzes who went rogue, neither. We’re talking black magic, Bert. Real dark wizards.”

  This wasn’t good news. According to the Hand of Magic, there weren’t many bands of dark wizards running amuck. According to them, there were very few dark wizards at all. The Hand hunted them across the stars, tracking them down and ruthlessly putting them down. So, who the hell were these guys? Bert pushed his thoughts away and said, “Go on.”

  “So, apparently, whoever our thief is, they’ve been using this magical object to keep hidden. But, somehow, they’re tracking them, so best guess, the object has a recharge time. Or it drains them. I don’t know, but everywhere the thief has gone, the hunters have caught up with them and they’ve bounced away to hide again. And to make it weirder, whoever the original owners are, they aren’t pursuing the thief themselves, likely because they wish to avoid the Hand. It’s like they’re hiring contractors to contract people to hire more contractors to contract more people. No one can, or is willing, to divulge who’s at the other end of that chain. Even the different people and factions hunting the thief don’t know who they’re really working for. But they’re offering big rewards, and, again to make things stranger yet, they’re offering the object of power as a reward. How fucked is that? Go fetch my toy. Bring it, and the thief, back to me, and then it’s yours. It doesn’t make sense.”

  But it does explain the different factions, Bert thought. Just not who suggested his name to them. Nor did it tell him how to find the thief and the object. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yeah, just one more little thing, and I haven’t been able to validate it, but it sounds like the thief is female.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s the best I could do, and I had to call in some serious favors to get that much. This is one of those rare times where people either don’t know, or they’re keeping their mouth shut. Including me. You asked for this info, so I got it for you, but I’m not selling it to anyone else. I trust you can hide your source?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good,” the Hound said. “And if you want some free advice: run as far from this thing as you can.”

  “Thanks, Hound. If you hear anything else...”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Bert hung up the phone, his mind racing. It didn’t give him much to go on, but it certainly clarified some things. He deffered to Sharp. “What do you make of it?”

  “Well, it’s pretty damned funny that the Brotherhood of the Magic Bane is doing the bidding of dark wizards. That’s fantastic.” Sharp paused. “It’s weird, Bert. Why would the thief come here? Unless they knew someone?”

  “Right, that’s exactly what I was thinking. I’d be hiding in the middle of nowhere…” His words cut off as a terrible thought crossed his mind. “You don’t think…”

  Sharp queued in on his thoughts. “No, surely not. I mean…”

  Bert’s heart skipped a beat, and after a moment he realized he wasn’t breathing. It couldn’t be. Could it? But the timing was perfect. He could practically hear Uncle Tony’s voice replaying in his mind. One of his many lessons… There are no coincidences, boy. Often, the answers are right in front of your face. You just have to look past your own nose.

  Bert’s feet walked him back toward the front, guiding him of their own volition. Neither he nor Sharp spoke, both running through events, replaying the scenes in their minds, and testing the puzzle pieces to see if they fit.

  As he re-entered the lobby, Farrah said, “Well, did you learn anything helpful?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Bert said, shaking his head. “I need to think.”

  “Are you all right?” Hunter asked.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Falcon said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should sit down. We can get you something to drink, or…”

  “I’m okay,” Bert said, waving the notion away.

  “Just the same,” Falcon said, eyeing him carefully. “Do you want to sit down and talk through it? Maybe we can help you figure it out.”

  Before Bert could respond, Kevin’s voice filled his head. “Bert.”

  “Kevin?” Bert heard himself say out loud, then repeated it with his mind so Kevin could actually hear him.

  There was no immediate response, and he realized that Falcon, Farrah, and Hunter were looking at him like he’d lost his mind. He pointed at his head and realization spread across their faces.

  Kevin grunted in his head and repeated, “Bert.”

  “What’s wrong, Kevin? What is it?”

  Kevin groaned again. “That bitch!”

  “What bitch?” Bert asked, fearing he knew the answer.

  “The one you’re in love with,” he replied, cursing. “That’s the last time I make breakfast for any of your girlfriends.”

  “What happened?”

  “I caught her trying to steal my truck!” he said, pausing for another groan. “I heard it fire up and ran outside to see what the hell was going on. She had all her shit packed up and half our damn groceries. I hollered at her, and she stepped out and whopped me upside the head. I don’t even know what she hit me with, but I was out cold. Woke up in the driveway and found the bitch had stole all the cash out of my wallet and pitched it on the ground beside me. You have shitty taste in women.”

  “Where is she now?” Bert asked, pacing.

  “She’s gone,” he replied. “And so is my truck.”

  “Fuck,” he said, realizing too late he’d said it out loud. If the others had been concerned before, now they were flat out worried. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed again. “Kevin, are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “But I hate your damned girlfriend. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

  He turned to the others, knowing they could read the horror splayed across his face. There was no time to explain, and he couldn’t even begin to think how. Instead, he said, “I’ve got to go, right now. Farrah, Falcon, would you guys please take Hunter home for me?”

  He headed for the door, not waiting for a response, knowing they’d follow.

  “Of course, we will, Bert,” Farrah said. “But I really think you should tell us what’s going on.”

  “Yeah,” Hunter said. “We’ve seen some scary shit in the past few days, but you’re starting to freak me out.”

  “There’s no time to explain,” Bert said, running toward the Beast. “I’ll touch base with you soon.”

  He left them standing in the street and fired the Beast to life. As he tore down the road, he ran through it in his head again. There could be no mistake.

  Lilith.

  It was her. Before Dasfarus had even shown up to threaten him, the object had been in his house, the thief sleeping in
his bed. How had he been so blind? That’s why she’d paid him a surprise visit. She was on the run. That’s why she’d been reluctant to leave his house. She was worried about being caught out in the open. That’s why she’d been surprised to see his staff in the gun cabinet. She was a goddamned wizard! And no wonder she’d seemed odd to the other ladies. And that’s why she didn’t talk about where she’d been, or what she’d been doing. Wizards like their stupid secrets, after all. No doubt, she’d been trained from the time she was a child, just like him, and he’d never known. Never even suspected. How was it possible?

  “Sharp,” he said, “tell me I’m wrong. Tell me this is some kind of mistake.”

  The sword was silent for a moment, then said, “I can’t, Bert. It’s her. I didn’t see it either.”

  “Fuck!” he screamed, punching his steering wheel. He wiped the stinging wetness from his eyes, gritted his teeth and gave the Beast more gas.

  Chapter 36

  He was angry. He was hurt. Stunned. Concerned. Betrayed. All at once, a torrent of emotions raged through his mind, one overlapping the next like waves. His head throbbed with the contradicting feelings, building pressure as though it would burst, split open and spill out melted brain goo.

  As he pulled in the driveway, he noted that Kevin’s truck was indeed gone and the realization struck home that he didn’t have the first clue how to find her.

  “Sharp, what am I going to do? How the hell am I going to find her?”

  Sharp didn’t respond.

  “Sharp?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  Impatient, Bert said, “I can’t think of a single place she’d go. I don’t even know why she took off.”

  “Well, maybe because she saw your back up staff and knew it for what it was. Wouldn’t you have done the same in her shoes? Or, it could be that the object is wearing down like the Hound said. We can safely assume some of the folks after her are using super powerful spells to track her. It might just be time for her to hit the road again. I honestly don’t know, Bert.”