A Calculated Magic

10

Sitting on the sofa in the living room of Megan’s apartment, Jack felt free for the first time in weeks. Tonight, the world would survive without him. The Logical Magician was taking a break.

Using the TV remote control, he casually channel-surfed, looking for an old movie to watch. He didn’t particularly care what, as his mind was on other things. Specifically, Megan, indulging in a bubble bath, after which she promised to change into something “comfortable.” The way she pronounced the word when they returned to her dwelling curled Jack’s toes.

To his surprise, upon leaving the restaurant, Cassandra insisted that he spend the night in Megan’s apartment. She felt he would be much safer there. Normally quite Victorian in her attitudes, the Amazon was more concerned about possible Assassin ambushes at the campgrounds than Jack’s moral responsibilities. Megan, slightly tipsy from the champagne, had enthusiastically agreed it was a good plan. Her hand, resting on Jack’s thigh the entire ride back to the building, made it quite clear that she liked the scheme for several reasons.

Merlin owned the entire apartment complex. Megan occupied the penthouse on the roof, which could be reached only by a private elevator. With Cassandra stationed in an empty apartment directly across from the building entrance, Jack seemed absolutely safe from attack—other than one planned by an amorous young lady.

Sighing, then sipping on a can of Coke, he decided that life wasn’t so bad. He was young; in good health; engaged to a stunning, sexy, wonderful woman; and defending the world against the powers of darkness. He was definitely, as the ancient Chinese curse decreed, living in interesting times.

“Oh, Jack,” cooed Megan, from the far side of the room, “time to turn off the TV.”

Slapping the set’s power button, Jack turned and froze. Megan stood by the sliding door leading to the outdoor patio of the penthouse. The bright moonlight shone like a spotlight on her stunning figure. She was dressed in a long, flowing red silk dressing gown. The material was so fine and thin that it was almost transparent in the light. Beads of sweat exploded across Jack’s forehead and his mouth turned incredibly dry.

Chuckling, Megan spun around on her toes, raising her hands over her head like a ballerina. “Like it?” she asked, knowing exactly the effect her display was having on him. “I bought it special just for you.”

“Very n-n-nice,” he managed to stammer out. Awkwardly, he climbed to his feet. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“And you’re seeing quite a bit of me tonight,” said Megan, giggling. She pulled open the door to the terrace. “Let’s go outside on the patio. There’s a nice breeze this time of night. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I sit outside watching the stars. This building is the tallest in the area, so no one can see up on the roof. It’s an island in the sky. We’ll be completely, totally alone out there. Completely alone. At last. The two of us.”

“The two of us,” Jack repeated, gulping. Math majors, including ones who had saved the world once, were not used to dealing with aggressive women. Especially very attractive aggressive women wearing very little who obviously had romance and seduction on their mind. Gathering his courage, Jack decided it would be an important learning experience. Trying to act casual, but knowing the glazed look in his eyes betrayed him, he stumbled after Megan onto the patio.

Megan sat on a large cushioned glider in the center of the patio. Surrounding her was a bright garden of red and white carnations.

She patted a spot close by on the cushions. As if in a dream, Jack sat where instructed. Fresh from her bath, Megan smelled sweeter than any flower. Quite naturally, she wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed. A long, lingering kiss. A promise of more to follow.

“You must be awfully hot with so many clothes on,” she murmured a few minutes later as they paused to breathe. “It’s such a warm night out on the patio.”

“It is quite warm,” said Jack, nodding. He was sweating profusely, though definitely not from the heat or humidity. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I’ll take off my shirt.”

“Let me,” said Megan. Bending her head, she kissed him gently on the neck. Her fingers played with the top button of his shirt. Opening it, she kissed him at the top of his chest. “I’ll bet you’ve never been undressed by a woman before.”

Jack knew better than to answer. There had been that wild incident with the mall sprites a few weeks ago. But since they were supernatural beings and thus, technically, not actually women, they might not qualify. He quickly decided silence was the better part of valor. Instead, he let himself drift happily into a nirvana-like state of physical pleasure. His breath quickened as Megan’s lips sank lower and lower.

Megan, her own breath coming in short, intense gasps, was fumbling with Jack’s belt, when they were unexpectedly interrupted.

“Nice technique,” declared a deep, booming voice from the corner of me patio farthest from the door. “At least, for a human.”

“Son of a bitch,” said Jack, struggling up from his half-reclining position. His shirt dropped to the ground. “Can’t I ever be seduced without interruption?”

Next to him, Megan, her features flushed with passion, swung around and glared at the intruder. “Who the hell are you? And how did you get on my patio?”

“Not who,” said Jack, casting a meaningful glance at the inside of the apartment. He had a strong premonition they were no longer safe on the open patio. Megan was too angry to notice. “But what?”

The speaker was shaped like a man but was definitely not human. Eight feet tall, with neon red skin, he was immensely broad at the shoulders and incredibly narrow at the waist. His head was the size of a pumpkin, with long, pointed ears and a bare trace of a nose. Growing increasingly concerned. Jack noted that their visitor’s legs vanished into wisps of smoke. He had no feet. His arms, folded across his huge chest, were as long as the tentacles of an octopus. And ended in hands with four fingers instead of five.

“You’re a genie,” said Jack, finally placing the being. “Like the one in the Disney cartoon.”

“Great flick,” said the supernatural. “I loved it. Saw the movie twenty times. That Robin Williams is great. But I’m no genie. They’re dweebs. I’m an Afreet. I’m a lean, mean, fighting machine.”

“How interesting,” said Jack. He laid a hand on Megan’s shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s time we went inside, good-lookin’? Wearing that outfit, you’ll get chilled.”

About to make a caustic remark, Megan caught the expression on Jack’s face. For the first time since the appearance of the Afreet, she seemed to realize their precarious situation. The genie had not come to her patio to discuss animation. It was there for a purpose. Being a creature of Arabic mythology directly linked it with the Old Man of the Mountain.

“I am getting chilly,” she declared, pulling her dressing gown tightly closed. “And it is getting late.”

“Later than you think,” said the Afreet. Before either of them could move, the creature reached out with both hands and grabbed Megan by the shoulders. Effortlessly, it raised her ten feet into the air.

“You’re light as a feather,” the entity declared. “Thank Allah for small favors.”

“Put her down!” Jack yelled. The Afreet ignored him. Desperately, Jack looked around the patio for some sort of weapon. The best thing he could find was a three-pronged hand shovel. Waving it wildly, he charged the neon demon.

“Sorry, Charlie,” said the Afreet, rising into the air, a struggling Megan clutched close to his chest, “but I’m running a little late. No more time to talk. Don’t worry about the girlfriend. She’ll be safe with me. You know what they say about flying. It’s the safest method of travel.”

“Take me,” cried Jack. “I’m the one you want, not her.”

“Nope,” said the Afreet, so high now that it was no more than a red dot in the moonlight. “The boss told me to get the babe. And I got her. Stick close to the phone, buddy. You’ll get a call from us. Sooner than you think. Bye-bye.”

With a whoosh like the noise of a jet airliner taking off, the Afreet disappeared. Jack clutched his head in despair. Megan was gone, kidnapped by an Afreet. Most likely she was a prisoner of the Old Man of the Mountain, one of the vilest villains in all history.

Cursing, Jack picked his shirt off the ground and reentered the penthouse. The Afreet had said to stay close to the phone. He planned to do exactly as commanded. At the moment, it didn’t seem like he had much choice.