Troubles compound

Marsella clicked her tongue, eyes darting around the outdoor cafe through her sunglasses. Xyxxor, the blasted wizard, was late. She checked her watch, again, and hoped maybe she had just gone insane. While her dealings with him had always been brief she knew he was punctual.

Cedric would call her in a few minutes and he would expect her to be at the resort, in her room, like he had ordered. Her time for secret meetings had run out. She sent a fast text to Xyxxor full of curses and anger, before quickly draining the last of her drink and standing.

—

The phone rumbled for a half second on the bedside table. The screen flashed the alert and reminding the owner of this and the other dozen unseen messages and calls.

“What’s so important?”

Xyxxor coughed, the copper taste in his mouth amplified while his lungs fought for air. “Nothing,” he croaked.

The man scowled and used the wizard’s own discarded cloak to wipe blood from his knuckles. He flashed a look at a second mystery figure leaning against the door.

“You think he’s telling the truth?”

“No,” the second man said.

“Come, my friends, we can settle this—“ Xyxxor began before being cut off by another hard fist against his temple.

“We can settle this with answers,” the first man said calmly. His voice wasn’t angry or emotional, but smooth an collected.

The proceedings briefly stopped at the sound of approaching footsteps outside. The second man reached into his suit jacket and his fist closed around the grip of a pistol. The steps faded and both men returned their attention to the bleeding wizard strapped to the desk chair.

“If you could just call Cedric I promise we,” Xyxxor paused to spit excess blood from his mouth, “we can work this out.”

The second man chuckled, “This isn’t about Cedric.”

“Who the fuck is Cedric?” The first man lobbed mockingly back.

“Dude, you really don’t know what this is about?”

“Well, no,” Xyxxor said angrily, “since you stormed in here and started beating me quite unceremoniously.”

“We’re from the Bureau, old man.”

“Shit, you must have made some bad friends to not see that right away.”

Xyxxor caught his breath. His face flushed and swelled. He couldn’t see out of his right eye. He tried not to lick his lips, the taste of his own blood never sat right with him, but it was unavoidable. His wrists were bound so tight, to keep him from casting magic, that his hands had gone numb.

“Yes, maybe some mistakes were made,” he said after a long pause.

“Yes, yes,” the first man agreed, squatting down to Xyxxor’s eye level. “That was some doozy of a spell you cast. Wasn’t it, Smith?”

“Yup,” the second man answered.

“And do you know why the Bureau cares about that spell, old man?”

Xyxxor could take a few guesses. It certainly was a powerful, far reaching piece of magic. His finest work. But he wasn’t going to offer any information freely, and certainly not the goddamn Bureau.

“See, here’s the thing,” the first man began, collected exterior cracking and voice dripping with malevolence, “that spell is growing. Somehow more and more people are infected with it. It’s spreading through their minds, lighting up the strands and acting like a beacon to every problem wizard around. So, now, I—“

“We,” the second man corrected.

“Yes, I’m sorry. We,” he said with a sigh, “need to know exactly what it did and exactly who it effected and we need to know it now.”

He stood, hands balled into powerful fists.

“So, I’ll ask again. What spell did you cast, and why is it centered here?”

Xyxxor paused too long and another strike landed on his cheek with a sickening crunch.

“Please…” he wheezed.

“Please?” The second man mocked, “who do you think we are?”

“Surely,” Xyxxor coughed, “there are rules. Or… rules. Please.”

The man by the door let out a laugh and the two agents traded looks.

“Since when has the American government played by the rules?” The first chuckled, punctuating the sentence with a sharp uppercut across Xyxxor’s jaw.

On the table the phone rumbled unanswered again.

—

Matt stumbled into the dusk and the door was slammed behind him.

“Uh, bye,” he muttered, making his way down the path.

He had three thoughts competing for his attention:

First, that he felt awful for whoever had to clean up after he and Valerie’s extended session.

Second, he was completely sexually fulfilled for the first time in… well, since he was magically endowed.

It was the third thought that was the most troubling, and it was the manner in which he was sent away by Valerie just moments before.

She had rolled over, lifting her cum-filled ass in the air to entice him after yet another aggressive round of intimacy. She lifted her phone and dabbled on it for no more than a few seconds when her body language abruptly changed. Her smile faded and she covered herself with the sheets. She had told him to get out and when he hesitated she forced him with magic. She dressed him and shoved him out the door in seconds.

Were older women just like that? He pondered this for a moment while Valerie watched him walk away from the relative safety of her bungalow, shaking underneath as many sheets and blankets as she could find around the room. Of course she wouldn't be the only nosy sorcerer who noticed the entire ordeal. She knew more would follow to ogle or investigate or, like her, experiment. But certain authorities becoming involved changed everything. She glanced around her room, a mess of evaporating jizz and an almost visible stink of sweat and sex. The trail would lead to her eventually. Her fingers trembled around her phone, the text that worried her was still open, a warning from a friend who was across the globe:

"The Bureau is moving a lot of assets. Idk why. If you're in the islands I'd be careful."

-End of Part 1-