What a time to be alive! With memories of the Great War and the Spanish flu fading, even the passage of the Volstead Act can't turn the national mood sober. The stock market seems to reach new heights weekly, and young people have thrown off the dour attitudes of their parents, preferring to be "flappers" and "dandies." Above it all rises the new world of magic. Even if it fails at times to live up to the extravagant promises of its purveyors, modern gemstone magic has placed in the hands of the common man powers that would make the ancient alchemists weep with envy.

Who among us can say what miracles lie ahead?

--from The Baxter’s Grove Times Opinion Pages

There was magic ahead. Jack Harrold could feel its dark power growing with every step.

The directions he’d been given had said nothing of this. In any other circumstance, he told himself, he would simply turn and walk back out the way he’d come. But a rich prospect was a rich prospect, and no less than beggars, young magicians could ill afford to be choosers.

The address was one of the toniest the city had to offer. In any decent world, Jack would already be inside, making his pitch in warmth and comfort. Instead, he had been instructed to go around the back, like a lowly delivery boy. It rankled. More than that, it made his mission more difficult. How did you ask a man to trust you with his business after allowing him to treat you with such calculated disrespect?

If you have to ask for his business, you’ve already lost. Jack heard his father’s voice. The trick is to make the mark ask you. If you can’t do that, boy, you’re no son of mine.

With an effort, Jack banished the painful memory. This was no time to be distracted by painful memories.

He had left nothing to chance in dressing for today’s meeting. His shirt, tie, waistcoat and gloves were a white of such intensity as to assault the eyes. His top hat, cape, frock coat, trousers and boots were a black so deep it swallowed light. A subtle glamour prevented any dirt or wrinkles from marring the effect.

His hair was black, as were his eyes. The smooth skin of his cheeks shone nearly white, as did the long line of his nose. The only touch of color on his face was the dark red of his lips, which, in context, appeared shockingly carnal.

His cape was bound to his wrists by a charm of attraction so that, as Jack moved his arms in intersecting arcs, it followed in a delicate ballet of flowing silk. With a simple command, he floated his cane between his open palms, deftly levitating it out of the path of the billowing cape. An imperceptible nod sent his top hat summersaulting across one shoulder and down the attached arm, then back up the opposite arm and shoulder before finally resuming its position atop his head. All the while, he maintained a gaze so fierce and self-sure, it could stare down the devil himself.

The sharp click of his boot heels on the cobbled alley echoed off the bricks on either side of him. A damp gloom seemed to seep from the cracks between the bricks. It swallowed up the daylight as well as the sounds of life from the busy street at his back.

A sudden wave of anxiety nearly knocked him off his feet. It was the magic, of course—a spell of discouragement or some such.

Should he regard the fact the prospect hadn’t bothered to disable it an act of further disrespect? Or was this, rather, meant to be a test of his abilities?

He decided it was wisest to treat it as such. Not breaking stride, he shot his left shirt cuff. A thick silver bracelet encircled his wrist. The glyphs engraved into its surface were glowing and warm to the touch.

Jack pressed a combination of glyphs with his thumb and index finger. He looked around him, but the gloom seemed, if anything, to have grown thicker. He pressed a different combination, with the same result. The glyphs were noticeably warmer beneath his fingers, their glow the only light reaching his eyes.

Jack increased his pace, extending his bracelet-clad wrist before him like a torch. His breath was the only sound reaching his ears, as the gloom swallowed up everything else, including his footsteps. The darkness was near-absolute, even as his wrist felt like it was encircled by fire.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally arrived at a short stoop beneath a darkened doorway, but before he could take climb the first step, the earth at his feet split open like a rotten fruit, releasing a cloud of fiery gas. Its stench was beyond anything he had ever known—a choking miasma of death and decay.

Screams of utter and total damnation seemed to emanate from the very depths of hell itself as a howling demon burst through the hole gaping before him. “Who dares disturb my slumber?!” roared the demon, scouring the area with flaming eyes before settling on Jack’s quaking form. “Speak, wretched mortal! Speak or prepare to suffer my eternal wrath!”

Buffeted by the fiery gas, Jack fell to his knees. He opened his mouth to plead for his life, but for once, no words came.

“Who dares disturb my slumber?!” roared the demon. “For the final time, identify yourself!”

Jack covered his eyes and prepared to die.

“Identify yourself or prepare to suffer my eternal... my eternal... my eternal...” The demon sputtered, then stuttered, then froze as a final slurred squawk escaped its quivering mouth.

From between his fingers, Jack watched the demon disappear into a cloud of blue smoke, along with the darkness, the foul hole in the earth, the screams of total and utter damnation, and, most mercifully of all, the choking stench.

A ghostly finger appeared in midair and inscribed a flurry of white letters on the cloud’s surface. A problem has been detected, and Majick has been shut down to prevent damage to your conjuring system. If this is the first time you’ve seen this Error Cloud, restart your system. If this cloud appears again, check to make sure any new spell or incantation is properly invoked. If this is a new Majick installation, ask your local Guild representative for any Majick updates you might need.

As the pounding in his chest began to subside, Jack became aware that he was sprawled in the dirt of the alley floor. For a long moment, he stared slack-jawed at the blue cloud hanging above him. The next thing he knew, he was on his feet, cursing and batting at the cloud like a long-limbed toddler in full tantrum.