Strange Magic: A Yancy Lazarus Novel by James Hunter

thirty years on this guy, easy—age has to count for something, right?—though I suppose I could’ve been a little more grown-up considering the seriousness of my circumstance. But hey, if you can’t crack a few jokes when the chips are down, what’s the point of living? Sure, you can tranquilize me, shoot me, strap me to a table, feed me to a demon, or bore me to death with bad villain monologues, but you can’t make me something other than I am.
    “Has your keen philosophical insight given you some clue why you’re alive?” Morse asked, drawing into my periphery.
    “Yeah,” I said. “I’ve given it some thought, but it’s generally not my policy to divulge valuable info to the guy who’s holding me hostage.”
    “Okay, Yancy—maybe it’s better you don’t talk anymore. That big mouth of yours is tempting me to put a bullet in your head, on principle.” He took a deep breath, pulled a padded folding chair into view, turned it around, and straddled it with a hunter’s ease. “Let me lay a few things out for you, so that you know why you’re alive and how things are going to go down tonight.”
    “Please do tell,” I said.
    He pulled out his Ruger and set it on the table, six-inches away, muzzle aimed at my head. “How ‘bout you just try real hard to listen.”
    “Okey-dokey.”
    “I don’t think you’re the asshole behind this and I don’t think you’re the fucker responsible for calling up this demon, or whatever. So I’m gonna take a gamble on you—I’ve got the whole crew here. The twenty one members left, plus their girlfriends, wives, and kids. Everyone . Can’t tell who the Conjurer’s gonna pick, so if we’re all here, the monster has to come here. Right?”
    “That’s a terrible idea. If your plan falls through it’s going to be a massacre.”
    “Yeah,” he said. “If this thing goes tits-up, it’s gonna go tits-up for everyone.” He pointed a finger at me, “You included. I figure we got a better shot of winning this way though. We’ll fight when we’re at our strongest instead of waiting to get picked off one family at a time. And, assuming you’re on the level, we’ll have you too. Best game plan I can think of.”
    Reckless, foolhardy, and borderline suicidal, but as plans go, it wasn’t bad I guess—kinda courageous even. He was willing to do terrible things for power and money, but he was also willing to die for his people. That didn’t make him a good man, but it did make him more than a hoodlum and thug.
    People like Morse were the reason mankind is at the top of the food chain, even though there are creatures from Outworld whom are smarter, bigger, stronger, and more powerful. Humanity as a whole is an evil bunch of bastards, but when push comes to shove, the villagers can put aside their inner devils and take up the pitchforks and torches against a common enemy.
    Still though, talk about putting all your eggs in one basket.
    “Now, I admit I could be wrong about you,” he said after a time. “You might well be the fucker calling up the demon, so I’ve worked out a vetting process. I figure if the demon does show, you must be innocent—you couldn’t be the asshole responsible for calling it since I’ve got you here, right under my eye. Now, in this scenario, the demon shows, you get to live, and you help save all our asses. Following?”
    “So far,” I said.
    “But, if the demon doesn’t show … I’m gonna think that maybe you are the Conjurer and I’m gonna blast you into little pieces just to be on the safe side.”
    I’ll say it again, Morse is one smart crook. I mean, I knew I wasn’t the bad guy, but Morse couldn’t be sure of that. This was a pretty solid vetting process and gave him the best of both worlds: if I was “guilty” he’d smoke me well and good, and if not, then he’d have a Fix-It man mage backing his play.
    “So, you gonna play nice, or should I just cap your ass now?” he asked.
    “I get my stuff back right?”