Confessions of the Magpie Wizard Book 3: Dissolution (Chapter 56 & 57)

Art of Fera by Yoghurt Stripper. 🍉Yoghurtstripper🍉 (@yoghurtstripper) • Instagram photos and videos

Chapter 56

“Thanks for letting me drive, Magpie,” said Kiyo as she finished parallel parking. “I haven’t had a chance to do that in forever.”

“N-no problem, my dear,” I said, my knuckles white from my death grip on my arm rest. “Are you perhaps a bit rusty?”

Kiyo cocked her head at me. “What do you mean?”

“Did I hallucinate you cutting in front of that truck? I might have passed after you went across three lanes of traffic!” I stepped out and walked around the front of the car. I’d read in human books that it was customary to open the door for one’s date.

Kiyo must not have read those books, since she was waiting for me on the sidewalk. “I had the right of way,” she replied. “What are you complaining about? I saved us, like, ten minutes.”

And took a year off my life, I didn’t say. I didn’t want to spoil things. It was already going to be hard enough to have my rendezvous with Dante without making her suspicious. I had exchanged a few text messages with him, but he hadn’t answered my calls. I didn’t even know what he looked like. I could only hope he kept the appointment.

“You’re doing that thing again,” said Kiyo.

“Doing what, Angel?”

“You’re pissed, but you aren’t saying anything,” she said, her mouth curled downward. “I said you could tell me anything.”

“It doesn’t seem worth having a fight on our special night,” I said.

“Well now we’re having a fight about fighting,” she countered. “C’mon, spit it out!”

“Very well. You drive like a madwoman.”

“No, I drive like someone who knows what she’s doing,” she replied, smirking smugly. “Dad taught me, and then Mom taught me because she hates the way Dad drives. It evened me out.”

“Your father’s wilder than you? How is that even possible?”

“He’s got me beat on wrecks, three to nil. That’s just math.”

“And they let him pilot warships?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s the captain, not a helmsman.”

“They probably promoted him when they saw him drive,” I said.

Kiyo tried to look offended. I say tried to, because she couldn’t quite suppress her giggling. “I missed this. It feels like we haven’t been able to really talk in ages. You’ve been really quiet lately. I need you around more, Magpie. You’re my cutiemuffin.”

“Duty has kept us apart, regretfully,” I replied. “But, why dwell on what we cannot change? Shall we, my dear?” I held up my arm, and she hooked hers in mine. She always did like it when I was “fancy.” Frankly, I’d had that drilled into me back home because devil girls might light your hair on fire if you didn’t behave respectfully enough.

The dim street that Dante had chosen for our meeting was an oasis in a sea of squalor. Cities all over Japan had taken waves of refugees fleeing from the Grim Horde. The Japanese, in my experience, like foreign ideas and inventions, but prefer to keep foreigners themselves in their proper place. That place had always been outside of Japan, but the realities of the war against the Horde had forced their hand. Japan isn’t an especially spacious land, but they still had to take their share of refugees. The survivors had been shuffled into little cities within cities, usually in clusters of hastily built, concrete apartment buildings. The Little Frances abutted the Little Germanies, but all that distinguished them were the words on the signs and a few national flags. The dingy apartments were considered suitable for the temporary guests, with the word ‘temporary’ becoming more laughable by the year. Twenty years on, they were beginning to break down.

This presented the city and prefecture governments with a conundrum. They didn’t have the resources to upgrade all of the buildings at once, and they couldn’t be seen to favor Little Rwanda over Little Brazil or Little Canada without causing a scandal. So, they resorted to a classic strategy of governments with insoluble problems: bread and circuses. Entertainment districts dotted the city, and they were always packed. The apartments of Little Egypt might be drafty, and Little Bosnia might lose power twice a week, but there were free shows at the theater and subsidized food to help them escape. These were popular with the native Japanese too, but they had to pay full price. The heavy price of citizenship, I suppose, and I’d heard grumbling about it.

I don’t report this to be reproachful. We used the same tricks to keep the orcs and goblins in line back home, though we weren’t foolish enough to let them in for free. It simply amuses me how alike devils and human politicians can be.

Whoever had designed this entertainment district had packed it with every diversion. We passed three arcades, a batting cage, three hole-in-the-wall restaurants before we had gone a block, and those were just at ground level. I had wondered why this Dante had wanted to meet in such a public place, but as we strode down the avenue, it all clicked. People from a hundred lands milled about, filling the air with more languages than I had known existed. Everything was well lit, but nobody paid any mind to anyone else. Whatever Dante looked like, he wouldn’t stand out.

Kiyo clutched me tighter as we waited for a streetlight to change. “Are you doing alright, Angel?”

“Hate crowds,” she muttered. “I feel like everyone’s staring at me.”

“They should be,” I said. “You went all out. I was wondering what you were practicing that makeup for, you little minx.”

“I’m not worried about the makeup.” She adjusted the scoop neck of her black top higher, which only served to remind me that she wasn’t as flat chested as she feared. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I got this. I feel like I’m gonna fall out.”

I smirked suggestively. “Are you?”

She winked out of sight. “Don’t sound so excited, you pervert,” she said.

“You went to all that trouble to doll yourself up; let them look.”

After a moment, her head rested on my shoulder and she reappeared. “So you really like it?”

I cupped my hand around her ear. “I love how it looks, but I think you’ll look even lovelier without it. You were right, by the way; I looked it up, and love hotels look delightful.”

Her face went bright red. “You’re still embarrassing.”

“And you love every moment.”

“Most moments,” she said. “So what’s Dante like?”

“Can’t say I’ve met the man,” I said. “He’s family of a friend of the family. Poor Harriet can’t get out much, and she had some business to attend to up in Japan, so Dante came up here to take care of it for her.”

“Oh, yeah, having your son get bit by a snake is rough,” she said. Her tone made me think she was trying to make me slip up on my lie.

“It’s rougher on the son,” I replied. “He’s making a full recovery, by the way.”

“I dunno about that,” she said. “It sucks to be the person hurting, but can you imagine watching somebody you love in that much pain?”

“As a matter of fact, I can.”

I put idle thoughts aside. We reached what I thought to be the address, and I studied the directory at the main door. I checked notepad where I had written the name of the restaurant, thankful that I had chosen a pencil instead of a pen. The ink would have smeared, and the foreign alphabet was hard enough parse.

After a moment, I gave up. “Kiyo, I can’t make it out. Do these signs match?”

She squinted before nodding. “That’s good hiragana. Do you know what they mean yet?”

“Can’t say that I do,” I said. “I have been watching those videos you sent me when I have time, but it’s still Greek to me.”

She looked at me blankly. “I sent you Japanese tutorial videos.”

“My dear, it’s a say-”

She burst out laughing. “Just playing, Magpie. You’re so cute when you’re confused.”

“As though you don’t always think I’m cute.”

She hugged my arm a little more urgently. “I wish we were together more. I’d practice with you.”

“Let’s put a lid on that talk and enjoy ourselves,” I said. “I reserved the third room. You may have to be my translator.” The translator fabricata in my ear would let me understand the staff, but it wouldn’t do a thing for conversation going the other way.

It turned out I needn’t have worried. The waiter who greeted us spoke with a drawl I didn’t recognize, but it was definitely English. “Oh, yer the high roller who got the private room. Right this way, sir.”

“This place is trying too hard,” whispered Kiyo.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Every inch of this walls is covered in swords, fans and old art prints! It’s all random. It feels like somebody went to Japan once, got a bunch of junk and stuck it to the walls without thinking.”

“It’s your tax dollars at work,” I said.

“Well I want a refund!”

“What was that, darlin?’” asked the waiter.

Kiyo turned red. “N-nothing, sir.” She turned to face me and lowered her voice just loud enough for me to hear. “About that. Our tax dollars pay for the permanent residents, not me! Magpie, can we afford this?”

“Dante was clear this was on his yen.” He hadn’t responded to most of my text messages, but he had promised that much. I shot her a conspiratorial smirk. “Between you and me, I might have chosen the most expensive restaurant on the strip when he mentioned that.”

“Is he good for it?”

“Harriet has means,” I replied.

“Good, ‘cause whatever they’re frying here smells awesome, and I want twenty.”

“You were so critical before.”

“They don’t get décor, but they get tempura.”

Our waiter slid open a wall panel, revealing a small table that came up to my knee, ringed by cushions. My eyes were drawn to a painting of Mt. Fuji that took up the entire back wall. It had that same earnest but overdone feeling as the rest of the restaurant.

In fact, I almost missed the man of the hour, until he rose to his feet. He was twice my age and, judging by his leathery skin, he had spent almost all of it in the sun. The lightest parts of him were the scars that crossed his exposed arms. He was well dressed, with a short sleeved, button up shirt and a vest and pants that matched a jacket hanging in the corner.

“Well, if it ain’t my granny’s godson! It’s a pleasure, a pleasure!” He swept over and took me in a hug that made my back creak. He must have spent all that time outdoors developing his muscles. He broke off and took me by the shoulders. “Well, let me have a look at ya. You’re taller’n I expected, Soren.”

“And you’re… well, I must admit I had no expectations.” He was awfully jovial for a demonkin. The ones I had met in England were a dour bunch. I suppose Dante here hadn’t just sold out his home; he had less on his conscience.

He cocked his mouth in a jaunty grin. “Good onya, mate. Not a bad way to live. You can’t get let down that way.” He turned his eyes on Kiyo. “Got yerself a local girl, eh? She’s a beaut. Granny Hattie’ll be glad to hear that.”

Kiyo took a step back. “Thanks?”

“You need to relax, Sheila.” Dante chuckled, and for the first time I smelled the alcohol on his breath. Unless that was the scent of his magic, I could guess where his good mood came from.

“Come here, Dante!” I grabbed him in my own bear hug. “What is all this about?” I whispered into his ear. “You’re three sheets to the wind! We have an important job here!”

“What the bosses don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he whispered back. “You’re the one’s that gotta be presentable. I’m just a delivery boy.” He broke my embrace and settled back down on his cushion. He held up a white bottle of sake and shook it invitingly. “Are you two legal? I can get us some more glasses. This local stuff smells like glue, but it kicks like a horse.”

“Uh, do you need more, Mr. Dante?” Kiyo sat down opposite from him, and I joined her.

“Girlie, I’m no two-pot screamer,” he replied. “I could polish off three more of these before I’d feel it.”

“Two pot what? Is that English?” Kiyo asked.

“It is where I come from,” he said. “No more England or America, so Australia’s the standard now. You’d best learn the language, Ms… Smith?”

“Jones,” said Kiyo.

“Yeah, that’s it. So, Soren, Ms. Jones, you gonna join me?”

“Um, probably not a good idea,” said Kiyo. “I gotta drive.”

“More for me’n Soren here.”

“I shouldn’t,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to put on a bad show for my lady.”

“Fair dinkum,” he said.

“Okay, no way that was English,” said Kiyo.

“So, Dante,” I said, desperately wanting to change the topic to something more productive, “what brings you to Japan?”

“An airplane,” he said, before chuckling at his own joke. “I need to step out for a tick. See a man about a horse. I’ll send Carl your way, order yourselves something nice.”

Without waiting for our leave, he stumbled to his feet and made his way out of the booth.

As soon as the wooden shutter was closed, Kiyo banged her fist on the table. “I don’t like your friend.”

“I can’t say I’m overly fond of him either.”

“I think I’ll try some champagne after all,” she said. “He said he’s paying and I always wanted to try. It seems fancy.”

“It might take some of the edge off,” I replied. Getting a little buzzed didn’t sound awful, but I had to keep my eyes on the prize. I had been told to be presentable, and keeping a civil tongue in my head was part of that.

Dante was a boor, but he was true to his word. A moment later, the waiter arrived. I supposed it to be Carl. Men who bother to learn the help’s names are either magnanimous or trying too hard look it, and I hadn’t gotten a bead on Dante yet.

Our patron was out longer than I would have thought. He returned just as Carl dropped off a plate of appetizers and our drinks.

“Don’t do the crab,” he said with a chuckle. He waved the air in front of him. “Fresh caught my ass!”

Kiyo’s nose crinkled, and she nearly chugged her drink. “Taking the edge off,” she muttered.

I decided it was safer if I did the talking. “Say, did Harriet tell you about the War Game I was in?”

“No, can’t say she did,” Dante replied.

“It was so romantic,” said Kiyo, grabbing onto my arm.

Glad to catch her in a good mood, I began to tell the story of how our grudge match with Yukiko had ended with my throwing myself down the mountain to Kiyo. I left out my crimes against good manners in this retelling, of course. Kiyo didn’t need more reason to be distraught. She seemed to enjoy herself too, popping occasionally to add a small detail.

Just about as I got to my duel with Kowalski and his Buddy in the woods, I realized that I was supporting Kiyo’s whole body, and her breathing had a regular rhythm.

“About damn time,” said Dante as he wiped off his mouth. A few more bottles of sake had joined the first while I spun my yarn, but his drunken humor evaporated in an instant. “I was about to ask Carl for his tip back.”

It dawned on me soon enough. “You drugged her.”

“She put up a real fight, I’ll give her that. I thought that bubbly was gonna do her in without the roofie. I thought Asian girls were supposed to be lightweights!”

“My Kiyo is full of surprises.” I didn’t like the tactic; it reminded me of Mother’s end. I couldn’t deny its effectiveness, though.

I cradled her in my arms, thinking how small she felt when she was unconscious. I laid her across the cushions at the far end of the table, and I grabbed my jacket to act as a pillow.

“Zone of Silence.” I made sure to shape the spell so that Kiyo lay well outside its reach.

Dante nodded appreciatively as he gnawed on a fried tentacle that I couldn’t identify. “Good move, Malthus.”

Chapter 57

I never thought my own name would sound strange to me, but it did. My heart fluttered as a bolt of panic ran through me, as he openly declared my deepest secret.

It faded as my rational mind caught up with my nervous system. He had said it in a passable High Demonic, though he slurred the rolled r’s a bit too much. “You are a demonkin, then. I suspected.”

“Bloody oath I am!” he said. “It feels great being able to cut loose a little with my own kind. It’s hard work pretending to be a good little drone all the time.”

“Dante, you took the words out of my every waking thought,” I said. “Now, what’s this meeting about? You were awfully vague in your letter before.”

“That’s above my paygrade,” Dante said. “All I know is, some powerful devils moved Hell and Earth to get me here in time for this. You must be a big deal.”

I preened a bit. Wouldn’t you, after months of having your ego crushed daily? “Oh, just a bit of one. My father’s a big deal back home.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “England?”

“Try Pandemonium,” I said, nonchalantly straightening my tie. I had been told to be presentable, after all. “Or did you not realize you were in the presence of a devil?”

Dante’s jaw dropped. “Christ on a cracker. I thought Malthus was just yer daemonym.”

“Demo… demon name?”

“Yeah, y’know, what we call each other. Makes a good cover name in a pinch.” Dante leaned in, the sake on his breath assaulting my nose. “You don’t look it, but yer demonic is flawless.”

“And I didn’t think you looked like a Dante,” I said, scooting back. “It’s called a disguise.”

“Well, it’s an honor, mate. Can I…” He held out his hand and gestured towards my head. “Your horns? I’ve never been close to one of your breed before. I want to see what I’m fighting for.”

My hand flew up to where my nubby horns had been, before Fera had run Fleshcraft over them. “They’re in hiding,” I said. “Courtesy of Harriet’s employer.”

“Oh, that? I am Harriet,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Those letters were from you?”

“Yes, dearie,” he said in a falsetto.

“You have very feminine handwriting,” I said.

“All the better to trick you with, my dear,” he said before laughing too hard at his own bon mot. “You and your girlfriend look so skinny! You should eat more. You should write more!”

And just like that, he stumbled over the line between sober and soused. He was right, the sake did have a kick. “I would love to sit about surprising each other, but let’s get to business, shall we?” While you’re still able to speak intelligently. “I can’t possibly just be here to visit with you. Where are the others?”

“Right here, mate.” Dante pulled a wood disk the size of a hubcap from a backpack at his side, and I immediately recognized it as a demonic fabricata. In fact, judging by the shape… no, it couldn’t be. “What’s this? They don’t make communication fabricata this small!”

“They do now,” Dante said. “Grab the handle and give it a charge, will you? The bosses are probably waiting.”

I took rune-encrusted piece of wood in my hand and focused my energy into it. Being a signaldevil was another task that seemed beneath me, but one does what one must.

The short, half-dome had an octagonal depression across the top, and carved runes in the dish came to life as my magic ran through them. A crystal pointed at me glowed a bright green. It was all familiar, but I realized how they had miniaturized the normally phonebooth-sized magical structures. When I had seen them run before, there had been a secondary spell cast to direct the message to the desired destination via Magical Resonance. A messaging fabricata with a single destination would need far less material. Still, it was nice to see that the humans weren’t the only ones who could innovate. It was no cell phone, but this was a step in the right direction.

Minute crystals at the points of the octagon came to life, rotating to-and-fro as they shot beams into a central point, which focused into an angular image of a man and woman from the waist up as large as life. The lines recreated them well enough, but it was abstract and without texture. I recognized the effect as two shapes came into focus, since Haru had used a similar fabricata during the ill-fated attack on Mr. Maki.

I stopped admiring the handiwork of the Grim Horde’s engineers, and the images flickered for a moment. I refocused my magic again and regained my bearings. I hadn’t expected to see Grand General Girdan the Fair and Fera in Japan, even in that strange, vectorized form.

If the fabricata couldn’t render them true to life, at least Girdan’s base voice came in loud and clear. “It’s about time! Have you forgotten how to be punctual, Malthus?” His long, blonde tresses, the source of his sobriquet, danced as he loomed over the matching communication fabricata back in Pandemonium. The green outlines had no color, but I could imagine his red skin growing redder as he flushed with indignation. I’d seen him gore subordinates with his horns for less than keeping him waiting.

I hesitated, and out of more than surprise. Even in this form, the monstrously large devil’s scowl turned my guts. Phantom aches emanated from my old scars as memories of my floggings at his hand danced before my eyes. The old fool had a particular way of enforcing timeliness.

I forced those thoughts aside. This wasn’t the time to be a shrinking flower. Devils pounce on weakness. “Grand General! It’s been a kobold’s age. How’s your second wife been? Has she still been doing her part to keep the orcs entertained?”

Girdan’s eyes narrowed, before his lips curled into a feral grin. “You see, Fera? And you thought that he had learned his lesson about minding his manners.”

“I don’t see how you could possibly take offense at that,” I replied. “We all have our duty to the glory of the Horde and the Dark Lord, may he reign until the sun burns out. Hers is simply a different path.”

“You two can stop measuring each other’s dicks.” I had almost forgotten she was there. Fera wasn’t a short devilmaid, but she looked positively tiny next to Girdan. Still, her harsh words made the doting father flinch. Her tone turned syrupy sweet as she patted Girdan’s shoulder. “Daddy, did you have something to say to Malthus?”

It was almost comical watching the musclebound man squirm. “You did a g-g-adequate job passing along that intelligence. The Dark Lord was in a fine mood when he found out about the failed attack on Sumatra.”

“I imagine the messenger was sent back to Our Father Below?”

“The messenger and his immediate family,” replied Fera.

“It’s why I never tell the Dark Lord anything directly,” said Girdan with a wince.

“Yes, you left that up to us aides,” I said. Thankfully I had always brought good news.

Fera coughed delicately. Her husky voice brought me up short. By Our Father Below, she always had that effect on me. Even in the angular outlines of the fabricata, my childhood crush’s beauty shone through. “All talk of Grand General Beez replacing Malthus the Elder as Grand Vizier has been shelved. Beez will be lucky to survive the month.”

“Splendid.” I had been worried for Father, not that it was healthy to express such emotions out loud. “That should keep the Eastern Horde in its place.”

“Damn straight,” said Girdan. “Those useless lay-abouts had the easy pickings in the early invasion. Like Hell we were going to let one of them worm their way into the court. They haven’t earned it.”

“And keeping Father’s head and neck attached is a fine side benefit,” I said.

“Indeed, indeed,” said Girdan.

Fera stepped towards the crystal that functioned as the booth’s camera, blocking her father from site. “Hm, the image is a bit fuzzy. I think the receiver is out of alignment.” She had chosen a low-cut gown just on the right side of scandalous, and she bent over for just a moment as she pretended to adjust the crystal, her charms filling the projection for just long enough. I swallowed involuntarily; she could give Mariko a run for her money in that department, thanks to cosmetic magic.

She straightened back up and nodded. “That’s much better. We wouldn’t want to miss any fine details.” She winked at me from an angle where Girdan couldn’t see.

And such fine details they were, though I raised my guard. Fera had always been cold to me, even when we made love on my last night in Pandemonium. She was up to something and wanted me addled first. I wouldn’t have noticed before, but I think dealing with Maggie had inoculated me against that trick.

“I must say, it’s been lovely seeing you both again,” I said, almost meaning it. “However, we should wrap things up. We’re in a public place; my silencing spell won’t do us any good if somebody sees you.”

“I paid off Carl. Nobody’s coming in here ‘til I say otherwise,” said Dante. I had almost forgotten he was there. He would not have been in view of the two devils, since he was on the opposite side from the camera. “‘Sides, we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t insisted on bringing your girl along.”

“What?” Was that jealousy in Fera’s voice? “What girl?”

“One of the wizards at the school,” I said casually. “She’s a good lay and has some talents that come in handy. That’s all.” Never, never, ever imply to a devil that you care about something. I learned that lesson after my fourth pet cat had turned up in multiple pieces.

“She doesn’t know what you are, does she?” Girdan leaned in, blocking out Fera. “Is she a demonkin, like Fera’s man Dante?”

“Of course not,” I said. “She’s a completely ordinary, devil-hating human wizard. She’s completely besotted with me, the poor fool.”

“I want to see her,” said Fera, her arms crossed under her chest. “Let’s see what you amused yourself with while you were away.”

That was jealousy. Not that she hadn’t been whoring her way around Pandemonium in my absence, but devils are not known for consistency. “She’s asleep at the moment,” I said. “Dante saw to that, so she wouldn’t have any awkward stories to tell.”

“She’s got nothin’ on you, mistress,” said Dante. “Just a little stick of a thing.”

Fera straightened back up, visibly relaxing. “Malthus has a point; we are in danger of being discovered. Let’s cut to the chase. Daddy, tell Malthus what you told me.”

It was always strange seeing the Grand General, the devil who had crushed rebellious goblins in Spain and successfully invaded England and ground both nations into the dirt, being bossed around by a young girl. He shifted awkwardly. “Malthus, for services rendered, you for.. You are forg… no, that’s the Enemy’s delusion. I consider amends to have been made. You are coming home.”

***************

Thanks for reading! New story material will start up again in April. Thank you for being understanding about my need to charge my batteries.

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