Wizard for Hire

Nighttime in Central London always has a special feel to it, coupled with intoxicants and bright lights, it can dazzle many a young fool. I had had nights out in London before, mostly with work colleagues after a good week.

I was to meet a friend in Shoreditch, so walked soberly through the Friday night revellers towards the Jazz Kitchen, a favourite place of mine.

Four days had passed since the events, let’s call them, and I had not seen a thing of the wizard. Returning to work on Tuesday, it was as if nothing had happened over the weekend, we had not found a man murdered in his own home, raised a demon in the toilets of a service station, nearly drowned in a cave and magically duelled someone for a dog.

What was more surprising to me was that no policemen were knocking down my door. This, I was most concerned about, my thoughts constantly turning to what I would tell them when they did finally get around to pulling me in for questioning.

I heard the wizard about in his room, small knocks and noises filtering through the ceiling in the middle of the night. We had not spoke all week. Not that I cared, anger at being lied to about the true statement of the mission we went on still bubbled inside me like lava.

Jazz Kitchen was as it sounds a jazz bar. It was very cool with exposed brickwork walls, American Diner style food and live jazz, obviously. The friend I was meeting, Benjamin, also worked in the City, but was doing rather better than I, from all accounts. He was that sort anyway, his father well connected in the establishment. As soon as I pushed the door open, he was there waiting for me.

“William!” he called, finishing his text message. “Be right with you old pal.”

He hadn’t changed one bit. Still a slickly dressed, silver tongued sod, but he was a good pal to me through University. “I’ve ordered us some cocktails at that table over there.”

He was still texting.

“Cool,” I said as we sat down. “So how are you?”

“Oh you know,” he said popping his phone in his pocket, at last. “Busy as hell, clients are a nightmare, you know the score.” He grinned. He was a posh boy with a boarding school education, and played up to the stereotype, no rather, he liked the stereotype.

“So what is your job? I never quite got the full memo.”

He chuckled. “You don’t know?” he teased as a pretty waitress with—and forgive me for being so crass but there is not other way around it—very large breasts, put our cocktails down. Benjamin watched her walk away with a leering expression that he must have caught from his City mates. He was turning into one of them.

“What I wouldn’t give,” he mouthed.

I smiled. “How is Isabella?”

Benjamin grinned knowingly. “Very good, you puritanical shit. We’re engaged, as you know.” Benjamin and Isabella had met in University, as had Ginny and I, so we made a good group of friends.

Benjamin fixed me with a concerned expression, and for a moment I saw the old him, the real him. “So how are you… getting on?”

“Getting on?” I said, knowing full well what he meant.

“After the break up with…”

“—You can say her name, I won’t cry.” I said.

Isabella and Ginny were best friends, so of course Benjamin would know all about this new guy.

Arranging tonight suddenly felt like a bad idea as old thoughts and feelings were rising to the surface. For the whole time with the wizard, I had not once thought about Ginny. Even this week not talking to him, what happened had still dominated my thoughts.

“I am afraid it’s not good news,” said Benjamin sipping his cocktail. “Ginny is pretty serious on this new guy.”

There is was again, that gut-punch feeling of jealousy. I paved over it, pretending I wasn’t bothered. “Good for her. I’m… glad for her.”

Benjamin slumped back looking sheepish. “No you’re not, I wouldn’t be if I lost a girl that pretty.”

I cleared my throat, as the jazz band took to the stage to a round of applause. “So…” I paused, did I really want to know? “What’s he like?”

“He’s cool,” said Benjamin noncommittally. “He’s a good guy—personal trainer.”

“Ah, a meathead.” I tutted.

“Well, he actually owns three personal training gyms, my company manages them, they do very well. Jamie built them up from scratch.”

I swallowed, he sounded like everything I wasn’t. “Sounds like your best buddies?”

“You know how it is, girls get together, guys tag along. He’s actually training me currently, poor sod.” Benjamin flexed his muscles, he did look in the best shape I had ever seen him, as much as it pained me to admit. “But anyway, enough of all that…” he said waving it away. “What have you been up to?”

I paused for a moment, before leaning forwards. “What if I told you that I had met a real wizard. That he had showed me real magic, raised a demon, and is being hunted by the police for a crime he didn’t commit?”

Benjamin’s straw fell out of his mouth, then he burst out laughing. “Always did have a wicked imagination Will. You written any of those stories yet?”

Several drinks later…

It’s amazing how alcohol can loosen the tongue better than any truth serum (although I am sure the wizard would argue against that). The alcohol also blunted my feelings, which was a good thing, as Benjamin spoke freely of Ginny and Jamie and how they were all going places.

Fortunately we did not just talk about my ex-girlfriend and her amazing new boyfriend. We talked about old times, what people from our University days were doing and then…

Benjamin spoke of something, quite out of the blue, which wrenched me from the comfortable bar and led to me sprinting home. And this had nothing to do with Ginny…

Benjamin looked a lot looser now than upon first entry to the bar. His sleeves were rolled up, tie was off, and several buttons undone.

“Honestly, I’m sorry again that we can’t meet up like m-more often,” he slurred. “It’s tricky you know what with the women. But hey,” he pointed a wobbly finger at me. “Hey, I’ll tell you what we can do… next week I’m taking you to this casino I know. It’s brilliant. My work colleagues took us all on a jolly up the other day. We all put in a couple of grand, you know, just for a laugh—”

A couple of grand for a laugh? What was his job again?

“—But its amazing in there, it’s really plush, the girls walk around in skimpy outfits, there’s free drinks…”

It sounded seedy and horrible and I definitely wouldn’t be going.

“The other day,” he started to shake his head and laugh, remembering it. “What a crazy night, I don’t know if I won or lost… but this strange thing happened… we’d finished playing and were having drinks at the bar, when the lights kept cutting out. Flashing on and off. There was a load of shouting coming from upstairs, I mean we all just assumed it was some punter who had been caught cheating or what-not, anyway… this guy leaves the upstairs office looked roughed up but unharmed and goes to leave. How he single handedly fought off all those security guards I do not know. Then, to make matters stranger… my friend says ’that’s Edward Rappaport.’”

It hit me like a flash. “Did you say Edward Rappaport?”

“Yeah! What’s he doing in a casino? I thought he was dead!”

I sat dumfounded for a moment, because I knew who Edward Rappaport was. But I was more dumfounded by the fact that I had been wracking my brains trying to think how I recognised the Creep—and now I just had.

The Creep was Edward Rappaport, a young ex-Conservative MP tipped to be the new Prime Minister before, about 5 years ago, disappeared from public life completely after a tragic accident.

My voice quivered. “He’s the one who is a recluse right?”

“That’s right, he went crazy after all his family were murdered a few years ago. Terrible business. Ruined his career. He’d have got my vote if he’d have run for PM.”

“What casino was it?” I said, I may have said it too strongly, for Benjamin was looking curiously at me, but I already knew the answer.

“Vitalies. Why? Do you want to go there now?” he said with a grin.

“Christ,” I said involuntarily, and sliding out of the table. “I’ve got to go, listen, thanks for the drinks and we will catch up again soon!”

Benjamin was put out, but I did not have the time to try and explain. Perhaps he thought I was upset about Ginny. Far from it.

I ran to the underground station, running with a stomach full of alcohol didn’t do me any favours, in fact it left me quite sick and I had to stand upon the street corner regaining my breath.

Tapping my leg impatiently on the tube, wishing for it to hurry, now understood how the wizard felt, but I also felt bad having to leave Benjamin like that. However if this was correct, this was far too important to leave for another time. I fished a hand inside my pocket and felt the smooth outline of the poker chip I had found at Kriston’s house. A poker chip for Vitalies Casino.

I made it back to Canning Town by 1am and ran to the house. Jumping up the wizards stairs and knocking upon the door with a dreadful noise.

“Felix?” I called. “Are you there? Listen you really need to open the door! I’ve got news about…”

His door clicked, unlocking. I gave it a short push and it swung clean open. The first thing I heard was that of a muffled struggle. And my heart jumped into my throat. Felix was being held in a tight grip by two large men. Both wore long brown tailcoats and a mean expression.

“What’s happening?” I said. They had a hand around Felix’s mouth and looked to be in control of the situation. Felix seemed to be casting small spells with his hands at the two men, but they just fizzed and popped against the men with no effect whatsoever.

Then, Felix bit the man’s hand and his hold relinquished with a short scream. “I’ve got to go, overdue meeting with some of my wizarding friends. Feel free to use my room if you wish. Your hair could do with a brush!” he said in a fast, strange voice, as if trying to communicate something to me.

The two men grabbed Felix again, before pointing their wands to the sky. In one routine looking motion, they disappeared. Just like that. They were there, then they were not.

I stood for a moment, letting my mind process what had just happened. Felix had just been kidnapped. I had just found out who the Creep was, which could have led to proving our innocence, and then he goes and gets himself magically kidnapped. Christ.

What did he mean my hair could do with a brush? I went to the large mirror—my hair was fine. I was just about to turn and leave, when something caught my eye—the mirror changed. Like it did before, but I had dismissed it. The surface was changing until it was no longer reflective, becoming more of a window.

Moving closer, I pressed my nose to the cold surface and could see through this mirror to another place. Sound and vision enveloped me…

I seemed to be looking through another mirror, high up in a very large, grand marble-floored hallway, as tall as a cathedral, with white stone beams lining the hallway, lots of doors, and was as busy as an Kings Cross Station at rush hour. Upon the walls, from where I was looking, were hundreds upon hundreds of picture paintings, mirrors and what looked like other assorted regalia.

And then I saw Felix! He was being dragged through the hallway by the two strong men, putting up little fight now, they still held tightly to him, perhaps knowing how wily he could be.

They took a room, bundled Felix inside, before there was a flash of white light. A second later, grey cloud began to cover the surface of the mirror. Until I was looking out of another mirror.

This one revealed a broad, well to do room of someone important. Two enormous windows let in a healthy bulk of light across an ornate desk, where a firm looking woman sat scribbling. On her desk a notice read:

ANDREAS GUNN, CHIEF OF DEFENCE FOR THE MAGICAL COUNCIL

A fire blazed in the middle of the room, crackling softly, warming the cold stone floors, walls and ceiling. The room was full of comfy maroon; drapes, rugs, chairs and furnitures, if it wasn’t wooden, it was maroon.

The firm woman, Andreas, checked something on her desk before standing expectantly. Breaking the silence, the doors suddenly burst open with Felix dropping to the floor rather ungainly.

He stood and brushed himself off with a slight frown. “Were the two thicko’s really necessary?” he said.

“Seeing as you never come when we ask, yes. Thank you Harper and Bland,” said Andreas diplomatically.

They gave a curt nod, and took a step back keeping guard at the door. Felix looked about the room at the walls, until his gaze met mine and he winked.

He could see me?

Three more men entered the room: the first was a tall, dangerously skinny, dark haired man who had such a tightly pinched face it looked as if it could pop a balloon. His dress was odd too, he wore long, purple flowing robes like a Saudi prince, and a funny round, gold laced hat, that covered most of his head. He also had a sly grin about him, and I got an instant cold, unlikeable feeling.

In behind him trod a small man, hunched over and looked so much like a rat I wondered if he was perhaps a rat before being turned human. I half expected a long pink tail to flip out the back of his slacks.

Lastly, was a man that, if you asked me to draw a wizard, this is whom I would draw. He was a tall, like the first, but he was old with white bushy hair upon his head like he had just got out of an incredibly bubbly bath. A long white beard hung down his front, nearly to his belt. This hair was made all the whiter by the fact that he wore long navy robes. Upon closer inspection I could see that these robes did indeed have silver moons and starts upon them. He could not conform any closer to that of a wizard than he was doing already.

The tall, dark man clicked his fingers at the ratty one and said in a slow, dangerous voice. “Pithkinn, set up.”

Pithkinn bowed softly and darted into the darkest corner propping up three old typewriters and sat behind them, fingers poised.

Andreas stepped forwards. “Rothkuss,” she said taking his hand. “And Arthur,” she did a small courtesy before the white haired man, who looked mightily embarrassed and hurried her on.

Felix stood gazing around rather bored by the proceedings.

“As the chair of this investigation…” she said as Pithkinn, in a rather noisy fashion, began typing upon each typewriter in turn. “By the order of the magical council, with each member present, I grant it open.”

With that she took a seat at her desk, Rothkuss took a seat too, and turned toward Felix. “I see you accidentally forgot about your pre-arranged meeting again? Not very good at timekeeping are you.”

“Oh I never forget,” said Felix standing in the middle of the room, hands tied behind his back. “Because one of these days I am going to get to punch your face so hard, it will make you handsome.”

Rothkuss sour face went slightly more sour, before he barked at Pithkinn who was tapping away. “Don’t type that!” Pithkinn bowed in a sorry way. “I’ll make sure,” said Rothkuss. “That I visit you everyday when you are incarcerated so you can have a good look at my smiling face.”

“Dito.”

“Now, now boys,” said Arthur, raising a hand, like wizened old father quelling a brotherly disagreement. “Let us amicably proceed with the matter in question. I am sure we all have other things we could be doing.”

Ten more people were invited into the room until it was quite crowded. They looked to be wizards, but with less power, lining up along a corner of the room, each had a wand which they had to surrender at the door. For wizards, they looked remarkably like us. The clothes were, well, normal, I just thought most wizards would dress like Arthur and Rothkuss—weirdly.

Andreas Gunn proceeded: “Today we are questioning Frederick Archibald Felix Freeman, before a room of selected Magic Council members, Protectorates and defence employees with an interest in this case. The matter is in relation to the death of the Mary Parkes, Frederick Freeman’s Mother…”

What proceeded was what I would call a typical court room questioning, which I will summarise as best I can.

First Andreas asked him: “Where we you on the 15th May 2006 at 11:36pm.” To which Felix replied that his statement had not changed. “So you were…” she looked at her papers. “Out for a walk?”

Eyebrows raised, apparently this was not a good enough answer.

More questions ensued, reminding me of being back at the police station. After an hour of pretty boring questions about the relationship with his mother, which to me, sounded like a very normal relationship, he said:

“I am glad you are looking into this, really I am. But it was not me. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you: I did not kill my own mother. She was murdered by someone but I don’t know who. I would love to know who, when you find out, please tell me…”

It wasn’t long before Rothkuss and Felix were engaged in another slagging match. Felix addressed the room, asking: “Am I allowed to access the wizarding world yet? As is my birthright.”

Rothkuss looked apoplectic with rage, his pinched face almost going in on itself. “It’s no one’s birthright!” he called. “Especially not to a thieving, murdering, lying taker-inner like you!”

“Temper Rothkuss,” said Arthur slowly.

Felix gave Rothkuss the middle finger as Andreas proceeded. “Final few questions… who trained you in magic?”

“This one again? I’ve told you over and over… the monks of Picador, Tibet. Or Alab-mähs in their language. And after that I spent two years and three months at the London University of Magic & the Occult (LUMO) before being expelled.”

I was learning more about the wizard in the last hour than at any other point.

A few hours passed, with breaks in between, where people drank and spoke in hushed voices, leaving Felix to himself in the middle of the room. He looked mightily put-out by this and was drumming on the floor with his feet.

“A matter has been brought to our attention…” said Andreas finally addressing the room again. “About this human-creep. There has been three magical murders already. Do you know anything about this?”

Felix suddenly looked stiff and defensive, clearly not expecting this. “I know as much as you do,” he said vaguely, then without fooling them with how little he knew, proceeded. “He seems to have a vendetta against wizards.”

“He seems most industrious,” said Arthur. “He has a few officials concerned. They seem to think he is after something that will give him great powers. He wants access to the wizarding world.”

“Don’t we all,” said Felix with a sly grin.

Andreas pointed sternly. “If you come across him again, you must report whatever you find to us. We will look upon you favourably in these matters if you do.”

“What is he after?” said Felix.

Rothkuss snorted. “You know god dam well what he’s after!”

“It has been reported,” said Andreas ignoring Rothkuss. “That he is after a ring. A ring of power, so our Protectorates have said. Word is… this creep is after you. Which means, he thinks you have it. I am not saying you do, but if you do… you have 24 hours to hand it over to us. If you don’t, then I can easily see a conviction for murder being stamped on your mothers file.”

Arthur raised a hand in objection. “I’d rather think that—”

Andreas cut across him. “Is that clear?”

“So that’s why you called me here,” said Felix. “To get me on trumped up charges about my mother and then blackmail me to getting the ring for you. I wonder who’s idea that was?” Felix shot a dirty glare at Rothkuss.

“That’s all, take him away.” Andreas ordered.

Harper and Bland grabbed Felix and was escorted from the room. At once, the mirror went cloudy.

But the wizard didn’t reappear in his room. In fact, he was in far more trouble than I could ever imagine…

17