A Calculated Magic

16

Jack digested this latest revelation in silence. Battling a nameless demigod from prehistory was difficult enough. Learning that the entity was the Babylonian god of death didn’t make life any better. Jack knew next to nothing about Nergal, other than the fact that the god had been so feared that its name had been appropriated by early Christians and given to one of Satan’s lieutenants in the New Testament. Briefly, he wondered if perhaps a confusion in names had served as the entity’s passport into the material world. It hardly mattered. Nergal was back, and Jack had to deal with him.

“It’s seven o’clock,” he declared. “Later than that for us, considering the time change. Let’s head over to the restaurant and eat dinner. I’m starving.”

“Me too,” said Hugo. “Flying that fast takes a lot out of you. I can eat a horse.”

“Ditto,” said Mongo. “Though I doubt if they include horse meat on the menu. Damn.”

“We’ll try the buffet,” decided Jack. “You two make yourself transparent and stay unseen and unheard. Cassandra and I will take extra food and you can eat off our trays,” His voice grew stern. “Try practicing a little restraint. We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.”

“No problem,” said Hugo. “Nobody will notice anything unusual. Cross my feathers and hope to die. Not that it matters. Everybody’s gonna be staring at Cassandra.”

The Amazon glowered at the raven. She had changed garments, but as expected, the new outfit suited her temperament no better than the previous one. She wore a hand-beaded silk evening dress, cut low across her breasts and with a keyhole back that descended down to her waist. The top half of the dress was defined by a pattern of white beading, while the skirt portion consisted of an overlapping sequence of black iridescent sequins. Black stockings with a snake design around each ankle and five-inch heels completed the ensemble.

“One lewd remark, bird,” Cassandra said, her voice deathly calm, “and we will learn if you can speak without a beak.”

“Stay cool,” said Jack. “If we start arguing among ourselves, we’ll never free Megan. And save civilization.”

“I’m not sure a culture that extols women who dress in such a manner deserves saving,” Cassandra declared through clenched teeth, as they made their way to the elevators.

The buffet, when they finally arrived there fifteen minutes later, was awe-inspiring. A standard feature at Las Vegas hotels, the one at the Seven Wonders had to be the most elaborate offering of food Jack had ever seen. Almost a hundred feet long, it offered nearly every type and style of food imaginable. Hugo, an invisible presence perched on Jack’s shoulder, murmured, “I wonder if they stock boar’s flesh? Sure looks possible.”

Boar’s flesh was not available, but there were more than enough choices for the raven. Jack found his plate soon filled to the brim, between his and the bird’s selections. Cassandra, directly in front of him on line, suffered the same fate. Finally, sounding slightly exasperated, the Amazon whispered to her unseen companion, “One more item and the plate will crack from the weight. Enough. We can return for seconds.”

“Same applies to you,” said Jack.

“Okay,” replied Hugo, its beak resting on Jack’s ear so only he could hear its words. Jack marveled that Odin had remained sane for centuries enduring such conversations. “Hey, there’s a chef slicing roast beef at the end of the line. I love roast beef. Please, just a piece or two.”

“Last item,” Jack said, and stepped up to the carving table.

“What would you like, sir?” asked the chef, a portly middle-aged man, his face wreathed in a perpetual smile.

“Three slices, very rare,” declared Hugo loudly, before Jack could open his mouth. “As bloody as possible.”

The chef’s eyes bulged in amazement. Shaking his head, he bent to carve the meat.

“I’m a professional ventriloquist,” Jack declared quickly. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. I often forget myself and speak with my mouth closed.”

“Oh, sure,” said the chef, laying the red beef on top of Jack’s plate. “No problem,” The man’s smile returned. “You’re good. Really good. Never saw your lips twitch.”

“Practice,” said Jack modestly. “Years of practice.”

Sighing with relief, he left the chef and hurried over to the booth where Cassandra waited. “Do that one more time,” he muttered to the raven, “and I’ll let Cassandra skin you alive. In fact, I’ll hold you down while she does it.”

“Sorry, boss,” said Hugo. “The sight of that bloodred meat drove me crazy. It won’t happen again.”

A plump middle-aged blonde waitress took their drink orders. Jack, who normally avoided alcoholic drinks, was sorely tempted to drown his troubles in bourbon, but settled for his usual Coke. Coping with his allies as much as his enemies required a clear head.

“Something more exotic for the lady?” suggested their server, eyeing Cassandra’s outfit with a critical eye. “Perhaps a screwdriver? Or a Bloody Mary?”

“A Bloody Mary?” whispered Hugo. “That sounds intriguing.”

“No, thank you,” said me Amazon, calmly. Jack silently thanked the heavens above for Cassandra’s restraint. It wasn’t till later that he noticed her fork bent into a horseshoe. “I prefer fruit juice.”

“I’ll return in a minute with your drinks,” said the waitress. She stared with wide eyes at the huge mounds of food on their plates. “Enjoy your dinner.”

As soon as the woman left them alone, they set to eating with all the gusto of travelers who had only dined on airline food that day. By the time the waitress returned, their plates were wiped clean.

“My,” she remarked, “you were hungry. Feel free to take seconds. And leave some room for the dessert bar in the corner.”

Placing a glass of fruit juice in front of Cassandra, the woman shook her head in amazement. “Incredible that you can maintain such a stunning figure with so healthy an appetite. I merely look at rich food and gain weight.”

“Exercise,” declared the Amazon. “Frequent workouts help keep me in shape.”

“I’ll bet,” said the waitress, her expression making it quite clear what sort of workout she thought Cassandra meant. “Don’t forget the big magic show at nine tonight, folks. It takes place in front of the atrium Lighthouse, You don’t want to miss it. The tricks they perform using laser technology and holograms are incredible. The red genie, in particular, is a real crowd pleaser. You’d swear he’s alive and not just a special-effects creation.”

“A red genie,” said Jack. “Sounds fascinating,” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet. Establishing a reputation as a big tipper wasn’t difficult in Las Vegas. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the waitress. “Enjoy the show.”

“A red genie,” said Cassandra, once they were alone. “That can only be the Afreet.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Jack. “Though why the Old Man of the Mountain would use him in a magic show to entertain hotel guests is beyond me.”

“People come to Las Vegas for the glitz and glamour,” said Cassandra, “According to the birds, the Old Man of the Mountain owes a fortune on this palace. He needs to attract big crowds. A spectacular show is one method of doing that.”

“We have twenty minutes till show time,” said Jack. “We can walk to the Lighthouse in five. Anyone care for a quick dessert?”

“Sugar?” inquired Mongo. “Do you think they’ll have lots of things with sugar?”

Jack nodded. “I’m sure they will.”

Smiling, he wondered how his mother would cope with two chocoholic ravens. It was not a subject dealt with in great detail in the Elder Edda.