Play with Fire

chapter Three

JANUARY IN DULUTH, Minnesota, and cold as the proverbial witch’s tit – although that scurrilous claim about magic practitioner’s mammary glands has never been explained, or proven. But it was warm inside the big Caddie – too warm, really, for people already wearing winter coats. That might have explained the sweat on the face of the young man sitting in the passenger’s seat, but it didn’t. The man behind the wheel knew it, too. The perspiration meant that Jeremy was losing his nerve.

“I’m not sure I can do this, Theron.”

The one who called himself Theron Ware looked at the younger man, showing none of the impatience he felt.

“It has to be you, Jeremy, we’ve been over all that before. More than once. And you agreed with me, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure–”

“He has to come out unsuspecting, and that fresh-faced look of yours is just the thing to get him there.”

“It’s not just that, it’s all of it. The whole f*cking ritual.”

Ware slowly ran his hand through his thick, black hair – a sure sign that he was getting angry. It was a sign that Jeremy should have heeded.

“Need I remind you,” Ware said, “of the stakes involved here, or of the glory that will be ours – the power and the glory – if we have the fortitude to take the knowledge we have gained and use it?”

“I’ll do it, Theron, if you want,” Elektra said from the back seat. Ware did not turn around to see the look of scorn she was giving Jeremy, but he knew it was there.

“I’ve already considered that, Elektra, as you know. In some ways, it’s tempting. A female might cut a more pathetic figure than the average male, and win the priest’s sympathies more readily. But I’m afraid your years on the streets have left their mark on you, my dear. The shaman would be on guard the moment he saw you.”

Mark, the big, slow one sitting next to Elektra said, “Want me to do it? It’s cool, I don’t give a f*ck.”

“Thank you for your willingness, Mark,” Ware said, “but I don’t think your ... talents are a good fit for this. No, it has to be Jeremy.”

He turned back to the man in the front seat. “There’s a term that those civil rights idiots used to use, decades ago. ‘Keep your eyes on the prize.’ Do you know what that means?”

“I – I guess it means to focus on the reward to come, no matter how–” Jeremy swallowed “–no matter how bad things are at the time.”

“Very good,” Ware said, keeping the sarcasm out of his voice. “It’s important to stay focused. And you might also focus on the consequences of letting me down in this endeavor. Do you wish to experience those consequences?”

“No, Theron – no, of course not.”

“Are you quite certain?” Ware made an unobtrusive gesture with his left hand while muttering two words in a language that none of the others would recognize, even if they heard it clearly.

A thin stream of blood began to flow from the corners of Jeremy’s eyes.

It seemed to take Jeremy a moment to realize what was happening. Then he put his hand to his face, took it away, and gaped at the blood that smeared it.

“No, Theron, please. Make it stop. I’ll do what you want, all of it, just make it stop!”

“You agree to lure the priest, and take your full part in what is to follow? Do you?”

“Yes, yes, anything. Please!”

Ware made another gesture, and the blood disappeared as if it had never been there at all.

“Then I suggest you get moving,” Ware said.