Chapter 2

Jane Farrar lounged in her office chair, gazing distractedly over the memos and reports lying haphazardly across the deskspace. The ringing of the phone finally pulled her back into focus. She answered, and her secretary put through a call from Mr. Mandrake.

She expected nothing more than a tumultuous apology and a recount of his continuing lack of success. Unbeknownst to Mandrake, the council was becoming slightly irked with the lack of results.

Whitwell was using the Persian embassy affair as an example of the lackadaisical work of the Night Police, trying to influence the Prime Minister to support her Security Department. She asked Farrar directly what was being done.

"In fact, the affair is being dealt with by the department of Internal Affairs" she replied coolly. Farrar smiled as Whitwell's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Internal Affairs was meant to be under her control. The other council ministers sniggered, knowing Whitwell had walked into a trap.

Farrar was quite conscious of how easily she could manipulate Mandrake. With every opportunity, his eyes snuck an appraising look. He had to visibly restrain himself from grinning when they met.

It was therefore so easy to persuade Mandrake to stick his scrawny little neck out for this ridiculous case. Farrar knew this was something to distance herself from as soon as the accident had happened without police sources being aware that anything was going on. The 'letter' had been written by her own hand; a trivial piece of 'evidence' that would seemingly give Mandrake a direction with which to take his investigations, but that would lead him into a blundering circle. Likewise, the story about intercepted mail had been a lie too. The Persian ambassador had absolutely no prior history of anything clandestine.

However, the attack had been a magical attack, while the ambassador was not a magician, and his wife, Shaesta, was truly missing. This seemed to indicate a murder, or something gone amiss, and couldn't be swept away conveniently as an accident.

Mandrake, on the other end of the phone, seemed breathless and excited.

"I think I figured something out! About the case. Can I come over right away?"

"A breakthrough? Really, Mandrake, tell me more. What have you found out?"

"About the letter. I've got it, I think." He paused for breath, "But you aren't going to like it. We'll need to meet. Are you busy now?"

Jane Farrar's eyes widened in alarm. Mandrake's discovery, whatever it was, was irrelevant to the case. Unless he had guessed at her deception. Was this why he wanted to meet her right away?

The question had been asked suddenly, and Jane found herself looking for an excuse to delay her answer so her mind would have time to process the possibilities and weigh the risks. Through the phone, she felt as If Mandrake picked up on her hesitation.

"The council meeting is tonight, John, you know that."

"Oh yes, of course. Hopefully, it won't take long. An hour at most. Shall I come by immediately?"

Jane folded. It would be better to contain the threat of John Mandrake as soon as possible. "Yes, my schedule should be free. I'll be waiting… eagerly." Her voice trailed seductively, purely out of habit.

Farrar watched Mandrake through the office door as he checked himself in the hall mirror. He was continuously readjusting his excessively lacy cuffs and smoothing his long greasy hair. She rolled her eyes. He looked equally ridiculous before as after. When he finally turned and noticed Farrar watching him, she smiled sweetly. He flushed a bright pink, and rushed to approach Farrar.

"So, what is this discovery you're so excited about? You were so breathless on the phone I feared you were having an asthma attack."

Mandrake's face flushed a deeper pink. He stuttered, "O-oh, not at all. My phone connection has been rather poor lately, I'm to have it fixed tomorrow."

Jane Farrar flashed an amused grin and took her seat, indicating Mandrake to sit also.

"Listen, Farrar, I think I've figured out the envelope!"

Jane's heart tightened instantaneously, and she forced it to relax. Outwardly, she remained perfectly placid.

"Do go on."

"Well, you know how the letter was signed 'Moesia'. Well that doesn't really mean anything, does it? It isn't likely a codeword, and it's not an anagram. Logically, it must be a name."

Jane Farrar was confused, but she was beginning to relax. Moesia was a name she'd used completely at random. It was the name of a tiny Roman province in the Balkans.

"But, Moesia is not really a name. Not a human name, anyway." Here he paused, for dramatic effect. Jane Farrar pretended to look at the boy in awe.

"What if it were the name of a demon?"

"Oh!"

"Doesn't it make sense? Mr. Nazari was supposed to summon this demon and get information from it. All we have to do is replace Mr. Nazari and summon the thing instead!"

Jane Farrar blinked. One thing magicians do not do is summon demons by throwing random names out into the ether. It's just an exceedingly stupid and dangerous thing to do, not knowing the level of powerof the thing you're summoning. Normally, demons, when summoned, are constrained by the pentacles according to the level of their power. Without knowing the level of power of a demon means the pentacle could summon anything from a mite to a marid. And if it were a marid… things could easily get out of control.

"Mr. Nazari was not a magician, though."

"Do we know that for certain? He might very well have been taught the arts in Persia."

Jane Farrar played with a dangling strand of hair. She was caught in an awkward situation. To keep her lie intact, she would have to go along with Mandrake's suggestion, which amounted to folly. Otherwise, she would have to risk her reputation if it were revealed she tampered with an Internal Affairs investigation. Mandrake would certainly take political advantage of that. How she wished she hadn't tried to be clever and had just signed 'Mr. Smith'.

"Interesting theory. And what do you need my help for?"

Now Mandrake hesitated. Jane Farrar raised an innocent eyebrow. Of course, what Mandrake had come for was obvious. Most powerful spirits needed two magicians (at least) to constrain them.

Mandrake began bumbling out an explanation of the dangers involved.

"John"

"Mhmm?"

"Stop talking. I know why you need me."

Mandrake smiled playfully. "Are you nervous?"

"You are an idiot, John, but your idea might get us some results."

Mandrake nodded, satisfied, "I doubt that the demon will be of much power. It would have to be something within the competence level of the victim."

Jane Farrar nodded in agreement, although she understood that this was not necessarily so. She led Mandrake out of the office, and through a couple hallways until they reached a whitewashed summoning chamber.

A standard pentacle was drawn out on the smooth wooden floor. From cabinets ranged along one wall, the two magicians brought out candles, incense, herbs and chalk, to adjust the pentacle's constraints for both magicians at once.

Farrar and Mandrake worked in silence, in anticipation of what they were about to do. Farrar was impressed by the scale of Mandrake's commitment. Perhaps she had charmed the adolescent too much.

Finally, the pentacle was ready.

"I'll speak the summoning" she offered.

"Alright."

Farrar was standing in the magician's circle already, Mandrake took a breath and stepped in beside her. The circle was large but he stepped quite close. Farrar smirked, pushed him back slightly, and began.

The words of summoning were indeed very short, being so unspecific towards any particular demon. That was what made the operation so dangerous. When Jane shut her mouth after the last syllable, she fixed the opposite pentacle in her catlike stare.

For a moment, it seemed that nothing was there, that the summoning hadn't worked.

Then, with a sudden rush, thunder and heat exploded from the other pentacle. A visible shockwave rippled the air, hitting Farrar and Mandrake with a raging force. The fluorescent lights flickered like strobe-lights, revealing mirror images of two cowering magicians in the demon's pentacle. Then the lights cut out completely, and the entire room was temporarily plunged into utter blackness before blue electric currents began running across the patterns of the pentacle. As if put out with the perfection of the pentacle, they turned dangerously red, while a blood-curdling howl sounded directly in the magicians' ears.

A tornado tore itself from the wooden floor, reaching to the ceiling. A massive, dark form emerged from the middle of the winds, and opened its ominous, fiery eyes.