A Calculated Magic

44

“Then the joker muttered a line about starting over again,” said Hugo angrily. “So I pecked him in the nose.”

“We’ll have to keep a close eye on Mr. Quinn,” said Merlin. “I’ll dispatch a minor elemental to rain on his parade whenever necessary.”

“Explain to me again how you banished the Crouching One from our world,” Megan said to Jack. “I’m still kinda hazy on the details.”

Their entire group—Merlin and his daughter, Jack and his supernatural friends, and the two ravens—sat in the wizard’s inner sanctum, feasting on pizza and Coke. It was a victory celebration of sorts. Spread out on the floor were a half dozen copies of the latest issue of a nationally known weekly tabloid. Smeared across its front page, as seen in thousands of supermarkets throughout the country, was the headline, “Ancient Babylonian God Resurfaces in Las Vegas,” Beneath the words was one of Jack’s close-up photos of Nergal, snarling at the camera.

“The problem, simply stated,” said Jack, “was how to convince hundreds of thousands of people to disbelieve an entity that they were unaware even existed. At first, it appeared a hopeless task. Then the notion struck me that what I actually needed to do was delineate a hoax that no one accepted as truth.”

“Isn’t the purpose of a hoax to fool people?” asked Cassandra.

“The best ones do,” said Jack, “but lately, even the most elaborate attempts fall flat. As Hugo remarked in Las Vegas, modern man is awfully cynical. People refuse to believe anything on face value. That’s what doomed the Howard Hughes autobiography, the Hitler diaries, and the recent Jack the Ripper papers. Investigators refuse to accept them as fact until they study them scrupulously. And, as with most hoaxes, the deceptions collapse under the intense examination.”

“So you decided to publicize Nergal’s reappearance in our world,” said Megan, “assuming that everyone would treat it like an obvious sham.”

“You catch on quick,” said Jack, flashing a smile at his sweetheart. Megan was sharp. “At first, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. I considered TV talk shows, but I rejected them as too dangerous. The demigod did possess supernatural powers and if he used them on television, he might stir up more belief than disbelief. That’s when I latched onto the scandal sheets.”

“Yeah,” said Hugo. “I understand now. People read those papers but never believe the headlines.”

“Better,” said Jack. “They disbelieve the headlines. Which is exactly what we wanted.

“I contacted a friend from my undergraduate days who works for the biggest national weekly in the country. The interview and photos floored him. I’m sure he thought I was engaged in some bizarre practical joke, but it didn’t matter. That’s why I preferred the cheap camera. I didn’t want the material to be too convincing. I gave him permission to run the story for free.

“And,” he finished dramatically, “there are the results.”

“When ten million people read that story,” said Megan, “Nergal was history. The supermarket newspaper crowd disbelieved him right out of our universe. He returned to the nothingness from which he emerged.”

“Speaking of returning,” said Mongo, “it’s time for the two of us to bid you good-bye. I’m sure your mother wants a full report on your adventures in Las Vegas.”

“Yeah,” said Hugo. “Freda’s probably been going nuts without us,” The bird cawed. “She depends on our advice for running the business. We’re indispensable.”

Hugging blackbirds was difficult but Megan managed. Jack settled for a hand-to-claw shake. Then, with a final squawk of good-bye, the birds rocketed through the walls of Merlin’s office, bound for home.

“Why do I have a feeling,” asked Jack of no one in particular, “that we’ll see that pair again?”