Enthralled

Enthralled
by Scribe

Part Five

Queenie sniffed, pulling his collar a little higher as he, Gil, and Nicky strolled up the street. "Why couldn't we go to that party with Euphemia?"

"Euphemia," said Gil quietly, "is more of a cat than Pyewacket."

"And she's more of a bitch than any dog," Nicky added cheerfully. "Besides, you don't even like her."

"I don't," Queenie admitted, "but it was an invitation, after all."

Nicky slung an arm around Gil's shoulders. "It was just to get Gil to her tatty little soiree, and you know it. She has the hots for my darling brother, and just can't understand why it isn't mutual." Nicky gave Gil a fond squeeze. "Want me to tell her? I'll say, 'Pheamy, old girl--drop the knocker for block-and-tackle, get extensive plastic surgery, then have a complete personality transplant, and maybe Gil won't shudder every time you get within ten feet of him."

Gil shoved Nicky away, but he was smiling. "Careful, Nicky. She might not be much to look at, but she can wield a hex with the best of us."

"Not you," said Queenie complacently. "No one holds a candle to you, Gil. You're a... a... prodigy. All the others are jealous."

Gil sighed. "Yes, jealousy is one emotion we do quite well."

Queenie and Nicky exchanged glances at Gil's wistful tone. Nicky said, "Say, Gil--are you...?"

"I thought it would be nice to go ahead and exchange presents tonight." Gil managed to break into Nicky's question without seeming hurried. As he knew it would, the mention of presents took hold of his companions' thoughts, leaving no room to feel curious about his own state.

They walked a little farther, Queenie chattering along cheerfully, gossiping without shame about everyone they'd seen at the club. Gil noticed that Nicky had fallen a little behind. He paused and turned around to check up on him. Nicky was gazing u a s a streetlamp, his expression intend--and mischievous. Queenie finally noticed that he was walking alone and came back, looking between his two nephews. "What, pray tell, is going on?"

"Watch this." Nicky stared at the lamp. The air around him seemed to thicken for a moment, as if he were in the midst of a faint, contained fog. Then Nicky flung his hand out toward the light. There was an almost inaudible sound, like out-of-tune wind chimes, far, far away--and the light went out.

Queenie squealed, hopping up and down, clapping his hands. "Nicky, that's MARVELOUS!" Nicky made a flourishing bow. "Do it again!" Nicky repeated the performance, and another street lamp farther up the street winked into darkness. "Wonderful!" Encouraged, Nicky snuffed out still another lamp. "Oh, I could never do that. I'm sure it would just exhaust me. Isn't it terrific, Gil?"

Gil nodded indulgently. "Very impressive, Nicky."

Nicky's smile was smug. "I've been practicing."

"Tell me--can you re-light them?" Nicky looked at him silently. "I'm just thinking that three street lamps going dead, for no apparent reason--on our block--might make the Mundanes just a wee bit curious."

"I thought..."

"No, Nicky--you didn't think. That's the problem."

Nicky drooped. "I just wanted..." he trailed off.

"You just wanted to show off a little, and that's okay. You SHOULD be proud when you learn something new." Gil went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. His voice was firm, but gentle. "Nicky, dearest, you have to THINK." He glanced at a glum Queenie. "Both of you. I swear, sometimes you make me feel a hundred years old. That's going to come soon enough withoutr her help, darlings, so have a little mercy on my nerves. I'm not trying to be mean, you know that." Both the other men nodded. "It's just that you're both such children, and fam family has to have at least one adult. It seems I've been designated." He smiled. "But children need their presents."

That perked them back up, as he knew it would, and he walked the rest of the way, ignoring their teasing for clues. Gil was satisfied that he'd avoided awkward discussions of emotions when, out of the blue, Nicky saidSay,Say, you like that Mundane guy, don't you?"

Que jum jumped on the new topic like Pyewacket confronted with a mouse. "OES!OES! It's perfectly obvious. Even that dreadful woman Mister Henderson was with could tell, I'm sure." Queenie nodded sagely. "Jealous, and rightly so. Who WOULDN'T prefer our Gil?"

Nicky swung around a lamppost. "True. And hey, there's nothing wrong with having a little fun with a Mundane every now and then. Some of them can be pretty interesting. So, you going to take him away, Gil?"

Gil stopped, shooting him a stern look. "I am NOT."

Nicky blinked at him. "But you like him, right? All it would take would be a quick..." He wiggled his fingers.

"You'll never believe it, Nicky," Queenie confided, "but Gil feels it wouldn't be right to break up Mister Henderson's engagement, just because he fancies him."

Nicky laughed. Then he looked more closely at Gil, and said wonderingly, "You MEAN that! Gil!"

"I'm not a beau-snatcher, Nicky. I'd like to think I'm above deliberately trying to worm a man away from someone else just because I fancy him, and..." Gil's lip curled, "I DIS-like the someone."

Nicky shrugged. "Well, if you're going to get all ethical at this stage of the game..."

They'd reached the shop. Pyewacket was sitting in front of it, tail curled neatly around his feet. He squeaked at Gil, and the young man bent down and picked him up. He scratched the cat under the chin. "If I did decide to go after him, I'd like to do it the normal way." Queenie and Nicky lifted their eyebrows. "You know what I mean." He nuzzled Pyewacket. "Without any help. Just myself. I believe that, with a little time, I could woo him away from that bitch." Gilbert sighed, then set Pyewacket down and started to reach into his pocket.

Queenie grabbed at his arm. "Wait, wait! Oh, Gil, let me!"

Nicky eagerly jostled closer. "No, me! C'mon, I'm hot tonight!"

Gil had his keys in his hands. "Honestly, you two."

"Please!" It was a chorus.

"Oh, all right, but just one of you. If you both try it, the door is liable to blow off the hinges, like it did last year. I got the oddest looks from the repairmen."

Queenie and Nicky squabbled vigorously for a moment over who would open the door. Nicky eventually won by looking pathetic, but he had to promise Queenie to get the older man a discount on his next purchase at the herbal store that employed Nicky. Nicky concentrated and gestured at the door as he had the street lamps, and there was a subdued click as the lock disengaged. Queenie and Gil applauded, and he took a bow before they went in.

They gathered around the small tree back in the living quarters, and Gil handed Queenie and Nicky gaily wrapped packages. "Happy Christmas, dear hearts."

Nicky admired his package, then sighed. "I haven't got much for you, Gil. I've just barely been able to make ends meet. Why is it that even the ones of us who are really GOOD at magic aren't rich?"

"Gil could be, if he wanted," said Queenie, shaking his box experimentally. "Gil could just turn and twist Wall Street any way he wanted, if he really put his mind to it."

"No," Gil said flatly. "You know very well that there are risks involved in something like that. It wouldn't just affect me, it would affect thousands of others--if not millions. No, magic is tricky enough when you use it to change your own life. If you change other peoples' lives it can be hazardous."

Nicky shrugged, then started to rip open his package. "There go those pesky ethics again. Ya know, they can really cramp your style." He held up his revealed present joyfully. "A record! 'Get You Kicks With Hot Licks, by the Too Cool Combo'!" He hugged it. "Oh, I've been wanting this! Thanks, Gil. It would be the most perfect gift I'd ever gotten--if I actually had a phonograph."

Gil's lips quirked in a faint smile. "You'll find a surprise when you get home."

Nicky whooped and swept over, enveloping his brother in a hug. "Isn't he GREAT?"

"He's a wonder." Queenie had opened his package, and pulled out a long, colorful swath of fringed silk. "A shawl. Oh, Gil, it's beautiful." He draped it over his shoulders, stroking it. "So many colors! It'll go with absolutely everything." Queenie paused, then said significantly, "What does it do?"

Gil kissed him on the cheek. "It makes you look fantastic."

Queenie looked interested. "A glamour?"

Nicky laughed, and Gil said, "No, it brings out the color of your eyes, and it will keep you warm."

"Oh." Queenie's voice fell a little. "It's... a shawl." Gil nodded. Queenie perked up again, looking at himself in a mr onr on the wall. "Still, it's very nice. I love it. Thank you, Gil."

"You're welcome." He held out his hand toward Nicky. "You said something about a present."

Nicky snapped his fingers, then went to where he'd hung his coat and dug in the pocket. "Queenie gave me half for this, but I picked it out, so it's from both of us." He handed a small package to Gil, who unwrapped it to reveal a small glass jar. "Merry Christmas, Gil. It's a summoning spell. It's supposed to be able to call someone to you. Supposed to." shrushrugged. "We couldn't afford one with an unconditional guarantee."

Gil turned the jar in his hands. "I've heard about these. Do you suppose it works."

Queenie, eager for any excitement, rubbed his hands together. "We could try it."

Nicky looked at Gil. "Is there anyone you'd like to summon?" Gil smiled. "Oh, come on, Gil--not Henderson. He lives upstairs--it wouldn't be a fair test. We need a challenge."

"I have an idea," said Gil. "How do we work this?"

"Wait--I have instructions." Nicky pulled a rumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. "First off, we need a picture of the person you want to summon. Hm, so this will only work on known quantities. You can't just demand the man of your dreams."

"That's not a problem." Gil picked up a book and tore the back off the dust jacket, handing it over to Nicky.

Nicky looked at it, reading the caption. "Sidney Redlitch. Hm." He gave a cheerfully carnal smile. "Can't fault your choice."

"I'm so glad you approve. What else?"

"We have to paint the liquid on the picture, then burn it."

"Queenie, look in the junk drawer in the kitchen. I think I have an old pastry brush there. Nicky, get that bowl over there. No, no--not the ceramic--the bronze. That's the one. Everyone gather here at the table."

They converged on the couch, Nicky putting the large bronze bowl in the center of the coffee table. Gil opened the jar, and Queenie handed over the slightly shaggy pastry brush. Gil dipped the brush in the jar and brushed a thin layer of slightly green liquid over the author's picture. "Mm. Smells like limes." He placed the picture in the bowl. "Do we need to let it dry?"

Nicky had pulled a box of matches out of his pocket. "They don't say so. Ready?" At Gil's nod, he lit the match with a flick of his thumb and dropped it in the bowl, on top of the photo. There was a small, immediate burst of flame, licking up to the rim of the bowl.

"Do we need to chant, or anything?" asked Queenie.

"No," said Nicky, "but we need to..." he read, "we need to concentrate on the one we're trying to summon. Do kno know where he is now?"

"Acapulco," murmured Gil, eyes fixed on the flames. They were green.

"Great. Let's all think about Acapulco, and Sidney Redlitch, and how much he needs to come here." They all fell silent and stared at the flames, which gradually rose, as the photograph was consumed. Soon they were flickering a good two feet over the rim of the bowl. It was mesmerizing.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Shep was passing through the lobby, ready to go upstairs to his apartment. It had been a hell of an evening, and he badly wanted his bed. But he glanced reflexively at the window that led into Gilbert Holroyd's shop, and his eye was caught. He frowned, coming down off the step and going closer to the window. Something was wrong. Instead of complete darkness, or a steady, dim light there was flickering. He felt a stab of alarm. *Like fire! But green?*

He hurried back outside, going to the shop door. He raised a hand to knock, instinctively grabbing the knob to rattle it. The knob turned easily. Normally he'd never do such a thing, but if there was a chance of fire... He pushed the door open and went in quickly.
The curtain wasn't quite drawn closed across the back of the room, and the flickering light was coming from back there. He hurried over and swept back the curtain.

Queenie, Gil, and Nicky were all sitting on the couch before a bowl full of green flame. None of them looked the least alarmed--not by the fire, or by Shep's sudden appearance. Queenie did look a little puzzled, though. He said, "Well, we weren't expecting YOU."

Shep indicated the bowl. "I saw your fireworks. Is everything okay?"

"It's a family game," said Gil smoothly.

"Isn't that a little dangerous?"

"Not when you know how to control it." He picked up a silver drinks tray and slid it over the bowl. When he removed it there was no more flame, only a few wisps of greenish smoke.

Shep looked from Gil, to Queenie, to Nicky. "Who won?"

Nicky chuckled. "I think Gil did."

Gil said, "Shep, how did you get in?"

"I thought I saw flames, and the door was open," said Shep.

"Oh, it was? I was sure I locked it." Gil gave Nicky a hard look. "I wonif tif the locking mechanism was somehow tampered with."

Nicky cleared his throat. "Queenie, sweetheart, it's time for you and me to toddle, dontcha think?"

"But Mister Henderson just got here," Queenie protested.

"Exactly."

Queenie raised his eyebrows. "O-o-h. Yes, you're right. Lovely to see you again, Mister Henderson," said Queenie as Nicky helped him into his coat.

Nicky raised his voice to Gil. "You'll let us know how that thing works out, huh, Gil? I'm dying to know." He gave Shep a wink and led Queenie out.

When they'd gone, Gil said, "Thank you so much for being a good neighbor, Shep."

"Not at all. Honestly, I was, uh, sort of hoping I could take you up on that rain check for a drink."

Gilbert smiled at him warmly. "Of course. Brandy?"

"That would be excellent."

"Take off your coat, have a seat."

Gil went over to a sideboard and got two snifters, then reached for a decanter. Shep said, "I'm not sure I should... I mean, I don't want to just gulp and run, but I can't stay long. I really need to get to bed. It's been a long evening, and I have a big day ahead tomorrow."

"Shep, brandy is not meant to be drunk quickly--it's meant to be savored and considered. Now, take off your coat and get comfortable."

Shep smiled. "Yes, sir." While Gil poured amber liquor into each glass, Shep took off his coat, draped it over the couch arm, and sat down.

"So, did you enjoy the Zodiac Club?"

"Yeah, I did."

"You sound surprised."

"I am--a little. I would have thought it wasn't my type of place. But while it was more like Halloween than Christmas, I really enjoyed myself." Pyewacket came out of the kitchen, trotting over to jump on the couch beside Shep. "Hey, kitty." Shep reached out toward the cat. Pyewacket hissed sharply, batting at his hand. "Oops, sorry!"

Gil had turned back in time to see the attempted scratch. "Pye! That is horribly rude." He went to the couch and handed a glass to Shep, then shoved the cat off the couch. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Shep came over here to save us from a horrible death by burning."

Shep chuckled as Gilbert sat beside him. "I'm no hero."

"Maybe not, but you ARE a good neighbor." Gilbert sipped his brandy, leaning back on the couch. "I feel better knowing that you're just upstairs--in case anything happens."

Shep took a sip of his own drink. "That's very flattering. I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to make you feel secure much longer, though."

Gil frowned. "You're not moving? You just moved in. Surely you have a lease?"

"Yes, I do, and it's going to be just one more hurdle I'm going to have to jump. I swear, Merle doesn't work at making things easy for me."

Gil's eyes narrowed. *I might have known she'd have something to do with it.* "Yes?"

His tone invited Shep to confide in him. Later Gil cursed the fact that all witches were not precognizant, like some Mundanes seemed to think. He wasn't himself, or he was sure he'd have been better prepared for what was coming next.

Shep sighed, staring into his glass. "I'm getting married--tomorrow."