Laura Resnick Manhattan Magic 01 Disappearing Nightly v1.0

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"Why?" Satsy perked up. "Is there a cosmic wobble in the dimensional fabric
when you two meet?"
I recalled that Satsy was a regular customer here. Dressed in a flowing white
smock shirt and trousers today, without wig or makeup, he looked so different
from last night's purple diva that I was no longer surprised Max hadn't
recognized him as a "her" at the Pony Expressive.
"No," I said. "But his wife is my producer, and I'm supposedly too ill to
work. Joe was so scared of performing the act last night that I doubt he'll
intentionally expose my good health to Matilda if he finds out about it. But
he's so nervous, I think the truth could easily slip out by accident, and I'm
already having more problems with his wife than I want."
"Check," said Max.
"So you'll need to interview Joe without involving me," I said to Max.
"Right."
"But he's so high-strung, I think there's a good chance you'll scare him out
of his wits if you meet with him alone." Max would prattle about Evil among
us, Joe would gibber with fear and guilt, and nothing would be accomplished.
"Besides, Matilda is protective of him. So a certain boldness may be needed
just to get in the door of their apartment. That's why you're taking Cowboy
Duke with you." I counted on Duke's charm, common sense and brashness to
conquer the obstacles I foresaw.
Max made the boxer-ready-to-fight gesture. "Check."
"Next item compare and contrast. I've ordered a display board to be delivered
here from an office supply shop. We've got to start assembling all the facts
we can gather together about the disappearees and the magicians. What's the
unifying factor here? What do they have in common aside from, well, doing
disappearing acts? And what about the prop boxes what, if anything, do they
have in common?"
"Check!" they all said in unison, their simultaneous boxing gesture making
them look a little like a cheer leading squad.
I went into the home stretch of my presentation. "Make no mistake about this,
my friends. Our goal is not to learn enough to help the next victim."
"It's not?" Max asked.
"No. We've got to do better than that. Our goal is to learn enough to prevent
the next disappearance."
"Oh, of course! Right. Check!"
"So come on, troops!" I said. "Let's get out there and kick Evil's butt!"
"Yes!" Whoopsy jumped up to punch the air. "Go, go, go
!"
"Team Pony Expressive is on the job, girlfriend!" Satsy pounded on the table.
Khyber leaped to his feet. "Let's do it!"
"No prisoners!" cried Max.
We looked at him.
"You're sure I can't make you some coffee?" he said.
"So here's a question, Max," I said.
"Hmm?"
"Where is Hieronymus?"
"Oh!" He blinked. "Downstairs, probably."
"In your laboratory?"
"Yes."
"We should have asked him to sit in on the meeting. Let's go talk to him now."
Whoopsy and Khyber had left the shop, bound for their respective duties. Satsy
was browsing the store in search of books that might prove useful in our
research. I had accepted delivery of a huge display board and had neatly
written on its surface, in various colors of Magic Marker, the few facts I
knew about the victims. Now I followed Max to the back of his shop in search
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of Hieronymus. A little cul-de-sac there contained some storage shelves, a
utilities closet, a bathroom and a door marked
"PRIVATE." Max opened that door onto a narrow, creaky stairway that led both
up and down from where we stood. There was an overhead light bulb, but Max
didn't bother to switch it on; the stairway was illuminated by a burning torch
stuck in a wall sconce.
"I thought fire was your weakest element," I said.
"It is. That was left there by my predecessor and I can't figure out how to
put it out."
"Your predecessor? The one who had to flee the IRS?"
"Yes."
"He inhabited this building, too?"
"It belongs to the Collegium." He led the way down the narrow staircase. "Be
sure to hold on to the railing, Esther. These stairs are a little uneven."
"You don't say?" Descending carefully, I asked, "So what was on the main floor
before it was a bookshop?"
"His laboratory. That enormous cupboard, which houses some of his, er,
leftovers, is still up there because it contains elements that do not respond
well to involuntary relocation."
"I see." No, I didn't, but I suspected that asking for details would lead us
well off track, and we had work to do.
Max continued. "I gather that having the laboratory at street level caused
some problems with the neighbors."
Upon hearing a muffled explosion below us, I said, "Go figure."
"I thought it best to be more discreet, so I installed my laboratory in the
basement. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that this would occasionally lead to
widespread plumbing mishaps, so there is still some discord
with the neigh Ah, here's Hieronymus."
We entered the laboratory, which was cavernous, window-less and shadowy. The
walls were decorated with charts covered in strange symbols and maps of places
I didn't recognize. Bottles of powders and potions, dried plants and what
appeared to be dried animal parts jostled for space. Beakers, implements and
tools lay tumbled and jumbled on the heavy, dark furniture.
Dusty shelves and cabinets were densely packed with jars of herbs, spices,
minerals, amulets and neatly sorted claws and teeth. There were a few pieces
of medieval-looking weaponry, some urns and boxes and vases, a tarot deck
spread across a table in mid-reading, a pile of runes lying next to it, two
gargoyles squatting in a corner, icons and idols, and a scattering of old
bones. An enormous bookcase was packed to overflowing with many leather-bound
volumes, as well as unbound manuscripts, scrolls and even a few clay tablets.
All over the lab, there were also little piles of&
"Feathers?" I said.
Max shook his head. "It's so discouraging."
A young man stood at the massive workbench. He had a rather slight build, fair
skin, innocent features and cropped, mousy brown hair. The source of the
explosion I'd heard was presumably the experiment he'd been working on. A
charred beaker sat cracked and smoking atop a little flame, looking like a
high school chemistry assignment gone wrong. The young man Hieronymus was
wiping orange liquid off his face, his clothes and the workbench.
He glanced up at Max, then noticed me. He looked momentarily startled, then
wiped off something in his hand his glasses, I realized, as he put them on.
His brown eyes, which gazed directly at me, were magnified by the thick
lenses. He wore black trousers, a shirt that had obviously been white before
the explosion and a blank facial expression.
"Difficulties?" Max asked with concern.
The young man shrugged, looking a tad sullen.
"Well, then& Hieronymus," Max said, "please allow me to introduce my new
friend, Miss Esther
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Diamond. This is the brave young lady I mentioned to you this morning. She'll
be helping us from now on, and she's doing a wonderful job of organizing the
rest of our new acquaintances into productive tasks, too." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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