Maris suspected her friend was having second thoughts as the pair of women mingled with the small crowd of people waiting for the non-descript door to open. Marisol and Maris were fully “tarted up”, as Maris had put it, in curve-hugging mini-dresses of pink and violet, respectively. The hems reached significantly less than halfway down their thighs, high-gloss nylons shining in the light of the single incandescent bulb above the doorway. Their heels were impractically high, their makeup was elaborate, and their false eyelashes so long they occasionally brushed into Maris’ now-pink bangs.
“He said nothing stupid. Are you sure-” the Magician’s assistant began, but was cut off by her companion, who’d been anticipating regret at some point, and had already prepared a pep-talk.
“Yep!” Maris chirped. In a much more quiet tone, she continued, “Your boss wants to plan this thing six ways to Tuesday, and Miles will keep raising what-if’s for months, if it keeps him from actually having to risk confronting a demon, and we’ll lose our window. A deeper scouting mission is just the thing, give them enough information to cut off Miles’ pessimism, and enough urgency not to dally if he’s got more than just poor Cassie in there like Rana suspected.” Marisol nodded, but still looked unsure, so Maris continued. “Plus, your average Demon doesn’t think humans are any kind of threat, particularly here, and they’re usually pervs besides, so two-barrels of top-shelf cans and pins ought to quash any suspicion even if he stares.”
“‘Cans and pins’,” Marisol echoed, smirking, and giving Maris a lingering look. “You know, it’s really a shame you’re stuck on men, and Miles in particular,” she murmured, running the back of her fingers across Maris’ bare shoulder and down her arm. Maris found herself unable to playfully flirt back, caught off-guard by the remark about Miles, and instead pouted stubbornly.
“Miles? Um, no...he’s cute, and he flirts, but underneath he’s just business, just like your boss.” Marisol shook her head sadly, her straight black hair dancing across her shoulders, and patted Maris’ cheek.
“Oh, sweety…you may know how to do real magic, and have your head stuffed full of old languages, but you still have a lot to learn…”
An impending argument was avoided by the door opening. A man emerged, his ringmaster-esque outfit spoiled by a pot belly straining the shirt. His features were non-descript, but not un-attractive. Still, the women had to still themselves against instinctive shudders.
“Welcome, one and all, to Spectacle Infernus...ten dollars cash for a brief stay in a darker, stranger world...thirty minutes to wander the exhibits before the main event, a chance to see the Living Mummy...even up close for a modest additional fee…” He began clicking a counter in his hand as he collected people’s money and allowed them through the door.
Maris, despite her confidence, was suddenly nearly frozen with fear confronted with the sight of an actual Demon, even as harmless as he currently appeared. But Marisol pulled her firmly by the arm and gave the man her best winking grin as she paid for them both. His gaze lingered on their bodies and Marisol swiveled a little instinctively, even as Maris mentally promised herself a long hot shower later to wash away the oily feeling of his eyes on her.
But then they were past him and through. The interior did not match the warehouse-type building outside...the Spectacle seemed to be a series of connected tents, once-vibrant fabric faded and dim, the spaces lit only by scattered oil lamps. The lighting was strategic, only enough to keep patrons from tripping over each other and to tantalize the “exhibits” without fully exposing them.
“Marisol, what are you doing?!” Maris hissed. The Magician’s assistant had stepped away to inspect a display, without so much as a touch on the hand to indicate she was leaving the Mystic behind.
“Look at these!” the brunette said, quickly, waving Maris over without looking at her. “These are real- and I think they’re in working condition!” She kept muttering details, and Maris turned away from an obviously fake Fiji mermaid to see what she was staring at.
“Mari, what are you, uh, geeking about?” She looked, and raised an eyebrow. “Thumbscrews? Shackles? And what the fuck is that?”
“It’s a brank! They locked it onto prisoners sentenced to public humiliation.” Marisol pointed to the implement behind the glass with her finger. “See- this part goes across your forehead- and that flat part goes in your mouth- this one’s got spikes to keep you from talking! And-”
“Uh, right… No, um, choke pears?”
“Huh? Oh! Those? Those aren’t actually, you know, authentic-”
“Marisol, how do you know so much about- ? No, nevermind.” Maris pulled the girl away from the display, and close to her, gripping her chin lightly. Marisol reluctantly turned to face her, and her brown eyes locked onto Maris’ blue ones.
“Look at me, and focus!” Maris said, whispering harshly. “Those are authentic because they belong to a Demon. From his personal collection. Which he uses! On people like you and me!” Maris quieted as she glanced at a pair of visitors passing nearby, idly chattering as they wandered through the exhibits. She turned back to Marisol. “Now please, let’s remember why we’re here… Uh, Mari?”
Marisol’s attention had turned to the large jar on the high shelf directly behind them, which was illuminated from beneath. Inside, floating in the greenish-yellowish murky liquid was something not quite identifiable. Except for the eyeball floating right against the glass. As Maris leaned closer, the green iris contracted and expanded, as if focusing on her.
“Right,” the assistant said softly. Maris turned back to her. Marisol looked small, pale, and scared in the dim light. Goosebumps covered the exposed skin on her upper arms and cleavage. “Right,” she continued, almost managing to hide a quivering in her voice. “Let’s see what we need to see…”
They passed between some more exhibits, and Marisol almost bumped into a low, wide box display, covered with glass. “Oh. Gross.”
Maris glanced at the label, identifying the contents as a “Genuine Chupacabra. Mexico, 2011.” Unlike the mermaid, this didn’t seem to be a mish-mashed taxidermy job. It looked like a hairless- and partially skinless- dog of some sort. The exposed vertebrae had been somehow modified into short, bony spines. As she watched, the poor thing’s paw twitched, as if it were dreaming.
“Maris. It’s… They’re… all still... alive...” Marisol couldn’t hide the quaver in her voice this time.
“Come on,” said Maris, grimly, though her own face had paled. “We can’t help them yet.” She pulled her partner-in-crime by the arm towards a curtain with a hand-lettered “Absolutely No Admittance” sign hanging from it, and after a quick look to make sure the Demon’s attention was occupied elsewhere, they ducked behind it.
The women found themselves in the wings of the stage for the “main event”, surrounded by carelessly discarded props and theatrical debris. On the stage stood a metal coffin, unmistakably meant to evoke a sarcophagus in shape, but oddly undecorated. They hurried over, and Marisol swung open the front. Even knowing what they would see, their guts twisted at the sight of the teenaged victim reduced to a shriveled husk. From what Rana had said, even now she was awake and aware, if dimly, caught in the dry thick haze of mummified suspension.
“We can’t just leave her here,” said Marisol. “We can’t.”
“We have to,” said Maris. “Since our Incants don’t seem to work in your world, we’d never fix her, we can only do this during the show after she’s restored, and we’ll need all hands on deck for backup.”
“Real magic isn’t very fun, is it?” Marisol noted quietly. Maris shrugged.
“It is what we make of it. But the two of us are no match for him, Demons are not to be fucked around with, trust me on this.”
“I quite agree,” growled a voice from behind them. They spun around to see the carnival barker- the Demon- standing in the wings, his face no longer leering, but cold and darkly amused. “Except about the ‘match’, I think the two of you would make fine exhibits, and you need punishment for breaking the rules…” He then muttered to himself, “As for fucking, well… hemmm.”
“RUN!” cried Maris, and they both bolted for the gap in the curtain, but bounced off of it painfully, as it had somehow become as hard and unyielding as stone, and the space of a few inches was far too small to slip through.
Faster than they imagined possible, the Demon was on them, each hand wrapped around one of their upper arms, gripping with painful strength. They shared a look of panic, then Marisol’s expression changed to one of desperate determination.
“Don’t run. Fly. Fly!” As she shouted, she stomped one of her heels on the Demon’s toe and kneed him with all of her strength, drawing on all her self-defence skills, but he was too tough, it was at best a distraction. But that was all she’d intended.
Maris gave her new friend a pained look, but knew there was little else she could do. She Transformed, her body shifting, shrinking, until the Demon’s grip no longer held her, and she left only a few colorful feathers behind as she spread her wings and took to the air. She circled above them once, but the Demon just stared at her, grinning, as his now-free hand grew somehow twice as large, then covered Marisol’s face, depriving her of air. She began to thrash, but her head moved not an inch in his enormous grip.
“Oho, a tiny bit of power left in this strange world after all!” said the Demon cheerfully, watching Maris circle above. “Come back down, little parrot, and you can share a cage...or I can just give this one a double-dose of my most special attention. Your choice…” As Marisol’s struggling grew weaker, Maris felt like a monster, and understood Miles’ cowardice a little bit better.
She flew at the gap in the curtain, barely squeezing through, and made for the door, the Demon’s damning laughter chasing her out.
---
“I still say we should firebomb the whole place. I don’t think you grasp how dangerous he really is.”
“I don’t care, Miles; I’m not causing collateral damage.”
“The demon doesn’t care about collateral damage!” Miles threw his hands up. “Just go in there, guns blazing!”
The Magician continued to sit, calmly, his only tell a subconscious stroking of his goatee. “If he spots weapons, we could lose the girl.”
“I still don’t see why you care so much about a total stranger! I’m telling you, this thing will wreck your world!”
“That’s why I’m asking you how you’d stop it. Holy water? Bell, book, candle? Tell me.”
“Geeze, that’s an exorcism- it’s an incant, and I’m telling you, incantations don’t work in this world.”
The Magician took a breath. “Miles. You say he’s using magic to move the door, so something works.”
“He’s a demon. It’s innate powers, somehow.”
“Your effects work.”
“They’re imprinted! They carried over from my world! We can’t do any new magic here!”
“So we try something that doesn’t use new magic. Maybe some symbol or something that works against demons?”
“I’m telling you-”
“Miles. Look at it from my perspective. Up until a few weeks ago, magic didn’t exist. Then Amy shows up with a mystery I can’t solve. Then you, Maris, and Rana show up, and I discover not only is magic real, but so are demons, and because this is the most likely explanation, I have to shift my entire worldview. I’d like to think I’m doing rather well, all things considered, because I could have assumed everyone involved was part of an elaborate con job and kicked you all out.”
“You’d probably be better off if you had.”
The Magician laughed. “I like your pessimism, Miles. It keeps me grounded. Now- we’re looking at three possibilities. First- the carnie is a demon. You’re the expert on that, you find something that will work within these particular limitations and deal with it.
“Second- the carnie is still a human- Ah! Let me finish!- A human or part of some group pulling some complex operation. If that’s the case, I can deal with it.
“Third, and least likely, the carnie’s something neither of us understand or expect, and we’re all doomed- in which case we go with your initial plan, burn the place down before it destroys the world, and leave the consequences to me to deal with. But regardless of which it is, we’re at least going to get the spectators and Amy’s friend out first.”
Before Miles could respond, a voice called from the workshop- “Food’s here! Hitomi got a sushi plate! Better hurry, you two, before it’s gone!”
The Magician smiled. “Miles, let’s take a break and eat. It’s been a long day, and we’ve still got all night ahead of us.”
Miles stormed out of the Magician’s office and slumped in the sofa, too annoyed to eat. Rana and Hitomi were already there, sharing a plate. He’d hoped Rana would be alone, since Maris was out. Hitomi seemed the least gregarious of the Magician’s assistants, though- he didn’t mind venting to her. “Damn, does your boss annoy everyone so much?”
Rana, sitting on her knees at the table, looked up at him and sipped some warm sake. “When meet two kings,” she said in Egyptian, “great is the conflict between their Ib.” She thought for a moment. “Ego, Miles.” She smiled. “Is ego word- no, sorry.” She shook her head and corrected her syntax. “Ego is the nearest word in English. Have, both of you, very large ones.”
Miles knew she had a point. “Becoming great, your usage of English,” he complimented her in Egyptian, trying to change the subject.
“Please, use English... Appreciate, I do, the familiar tongue, but… I need to learn new one gooder- better.”
Hitomi looked up and closed her laptop. “Rana, you are doing very well. English is difficult- hard to learn. Lots of irregular conjugations.”
Rana shrugged. “Do you speak, Hitomi, many languages? How many?”
Hitomi closed her eyes for a moment. “Six or seven, some much better than others. Eight if you count Egyptian now, but mine is much worse than your English.” She held up the sake, offering some to Miles. He nodded.
She smiled as she poured him a small cup. “The boss is quite a piece of work, sometimes, but he means well.”
“I know,” shrugged Miles. “Maybe that’s the problem. He’s too likeable, too reasonable. And sometimes you just feel like punching something.”
Hitomi shrugged and pushed the cup towards him. “I can put out a mat if you want to spar a few rounds.”
“What- with him? I can’t picture that going well.” He picked up the drink.
“No, with me.”
“Now that, I really can’t picture.”
Hitomi gave a small smile. “I think you’d be surprised.”
Miles regarded the slight assistant with curiosity. “Now you’re worrying me.” He took a sip from his cup. “Mmm. I may eat something after all.”
The phone in his pocket started buzzing. It was Maris. “Maris? What’s going on?”
“Oh my god Miles! It’s all gone wrong! Marisol is-!” She cried, loud enough that Hitomi could hear over the phone. She turned and watched as Miles spoke.
“Maris, calm down- tell me what’s happened.” Hitomi looked at him, pointing to the phone, then the speaker embedded in the table, as the Magician walked up to their group. “Maris- the Magician’s here, too. I have to put you on speaker.”
“Oh my god- he’s gone, she’s gone- I don’t know what to do!” she said again, her voice now amplified so the whole room turned.
“Maris,” Miles continued. “Please, slowly. Tell us what happened to Marisol.”
---
The assistants all started talking at once as soon as Maris finished, accusing, yelling, questioning.
“Enough,” the Magician said, loud enough to get everyone’s attention. The room grew quiet as he picked up a tablet, and switched the green marker in Santa Cruz to bright red. “Like Maris said, the door’s gone. They’re not in Santa Cruz anymore. Maris, I’m sending Laurel to pick you up. We will get Marisol back.”
“Boss?” Laurel questioned. “Shouldn’t I start the web crawler again? Search for the sideshow?”
“No. We’re past phase one. I gave Marisol a tracker as a failsafe. If the pattern holds, the sideshow’s going to pop up again in two or three days. As soon as that demon opens his door, anywhere in the world, we’re going to start getting a ping. I will get us there in less than 28 hours, even if I have to violate international treaties and no-fly zones to do it. That’s all the lead time he’s going to get, because this time, we are going to be ready.” He looked around at everyone.
“Laurel, go, now. Maris- collect a few fliers if you can, have a drink if you need to, do whatever to collect your thoughts, but be ready for Laurel.” He hung up the phone. “Hitomi, call back my jet from whoever we’ve rented it to. Get it to San Martin airport and have it fueled up and on standby. Robyn, clear out some space, then get the CNC router, the laser etcher, and the 3D fabricators set up. Amy, help her however she asks. I don’t know what we’re going to make yet, but I want to be ready to make it as soon as possible.”
He turned to Rana, and said a few words in Egyptian. She bowed and hurried to his office.
Finally, he turned to the mystic. “Miles. If I was angry, it would be at the demon, not you and Maris. I don’t get angry. I get things done. And every one of my assistants will tell you when I want to get something done, nothing stops me. You, Miles? You are going to stop making excuses. You are going to stop complaining my tricks and secrets are bullshit, my world is weird, and my research turned up only garbage. You are going to remember that you are an expert in demonology in your world, and the preeminent expert in this one, and you are going to stop cowering from that demon. You are going realize that I have absolute faith that you will figure out how to beat it, and you are going to see exactly what I can bring to bear to help you do it; and I swear to you by your True Name that we are going to both save Cassandra and Marisol, and send that demon back to whatever hell it came from, permanently. Because despite how dastardly and cunning and evil it imagines itself to be, despite how scary it imagines itself to be, despite how powerful it imagines itself to be, we are going to show it that we are infinitely worse than it can imagine.”
The Magician turned away and quietly walked to his office, leaving Miles to stand and stare, gaping, as, around him, things started getting done.
To Be Continued...