Crime Spells

Adrian ’s mind worked feverishly, trying to figure the other man’s angle. Was he trying to distract me with such lies? Trying to delay my assault? Make me doubt my art? None of it made any sense. And of course he knew what he’d wrought on these people. Despite their devout belief that had become faith and then so much more; despite that natural progression that involved no coercion at all on his part, making it all the more difficult to bear; what he’d wrought twisted with pain continually.

“No one taught me.”

For the first time since dropping his disguise, Martinez seemed thunderstruck, out of his element. “What?”

“No one taught me. All I’ve learned I taught myself. I’ve spent my life hunting for other magus. And now, when I finally find one, he’s mad. Mad and possessed.” His skin began to tingle with the energy build-up as it neared the flash point, and Adrian prepared to unleash all its fury.

Martinez opened and closed his mouth several times before finding his voice again. “That’s just not possible. You can’t learn alone. You ca

In mid-word Martinez struck, the hammer blow of argent energy flung off the man’s abruptly outstretched arms, double fists of energy to crush Adrian.

But this was his i

The single greatest yoke that bore down a magus. The yoke that forced medicine men from time immemorial to be showmen; the same heritage that found its way down into snake oil salesmen and finally sleight-of-hand magicians of the modern age, with all the trappings of a true magus but with none of the spirit that such rituals allowed a user to invoke. A hollow shell, missing the true forms of power beneath.

With his true believers and their towering batteries of faith hyperactivating his power within his own i

Adrian collapsed into unconsciousness.

Adrian slowly woke, his twelve-hundred-thread Egyptian cotton sheets a balm to sweaty flesh. A cloth slowly sponged cool water across his forehead before a hand gently lifted his head to pour liquid ambrosia in the form of water onto parched lips and a throat scarred by what must surely be the fires of hell.

He cracked his eyes to pain, despite almost no light in the room. Long, almost silent minutes of such ministrations passed, the pain receding further and further. Finally, the dim outline resolved into an intimately familiar shape, though one he never thought to see here, in his own home, again.

“You.”

“Master, I live to serve. After your collapse you became sick, feverish. We knew not what to do. So some of us… we touched you,” her words continued, timid and terrified and filled with that worshiping tone that twisted the knife deeper. “Laid ointments as best we could. Brought you here to heal.”

Through the haze of lethargy, pain, and the blackness surrounding any events after Martinez, his i

The memories of the whole, fantastic ordeal unfolded like an unlocked treasure chest. The betrayal by his assistant, a possessed magus, with his ludicrous attempts to distract Adrian with outrageous lies. Despite it all, despite the lunacy of the man and his failed attempt to destroy Adrian, he knew the man did speak one word of truth. He had taken too much for granted. Had turned humans-once friends, once… lovers (even now it hurt to think about it)-into something less. Less than human. Knew he must start down a different path if he was to avoid becoming mad. Avoid becoming Martinez and embracing magic to the point of allowing a spirit to possess him in his feverish desire to find other magus. Knew now that other magus did exist, that other magus could be found, but the current price for finding them was unacceptable.

That different path must start now. His tongue scraped at lizard-dry lips, working moisture into his mouth before he spoke her name with as much reverence as she intoned his.

“Kim.”

The Wish of a Wish by Robert T. Jeschonek

You’d think genies might get a wish to themselves now and then… but from the pain in Magda’s eyes when she opens the mansion’s door, I can see she’s getting zero wish fulfillment out of life.

“Yes?” Her eyes are beautiful, an unearthly bright greenish gold, but the look in them is one of pure misery.

“Good morning, ma’am.” I flash her my badge, and she winces. “Oliver Singel, State Department of Mystic Revenue. I’m here to see Mr. Rudolph Gunza.”

She ushers me in without hesitation. She doesn’t fear me at all; as a genie, she need fear only one man in all the world.

That man is her master, Rudy Gunza.

As she closes the heavy door behind me, I gaze around at the opulent entryway. Everything is glittering gold and crimson velvet and gleaming marble, from the winding staircase to the fountain in the middle of the giant room.

Ill-gotten gains, all of it. Whipped up on a whim and a wish by the magical beauty standing in front of me.

She tosses her head, and the lush, black curls flop about her shoulders. She straightens the dark blue satin bodice of her outfit, smooths the silk harem pants below her taut bare midriff.

Even with the beaten look in her eyes, even with her mouth and chin covered by a pale blue veil, she looks breathtaking. She looks more perfect and radiant than any woman alive, as beautiful as any fantasy sculpted by a man’s imagination.

Then again, she has to, doesn’t she?

“What business do you have with Master Gunza?” There’s a hint of a glint in her eye as she says it-a flicker of power. She might not be able to exercise it against her master, but that doesn’t mean she can’t use it against someone else, like me.

“Serious business,” I tell her. “Tax business.”

“Oh-ho!” Gunza’s jolly voice booms from the top of the staircase. “And here I thought this was purely a friendly visit!”

A weak smile doesn’t quite make it onto my face. “Hello, Rudy.”

Gunza wobbles down the stairs, looking like a tubby sheikh. His glittering red robes can’t hide the stupendous gut wagging in front of him.

When he and I were partners, he never had a gut at all.

“Long time no miss!” says Gunza as he drops from the last marble stair to the floor. “How’s the old gang of idiots?”

“Better than ever, now that you’re gone,” I tell him.

Gunza throws an arm around Magda’s shoulders and squeezes her tight. “Oleo and I used to work together! Isn’t that something, Magda? We was revenooers together.”