With that, he pulled what looked like a couple of blackboard erasers from the pocket of his jacket. At first, I thought he was going to try to throw them at me, but instead he clapped them together over his head, showering himself with what appeared to be white chalk dust. It would have been funny... if he hadn't looked so grim as he started for me again.

Just to be on the safe side, I doubled up on the ward in front of him... and he walked right through it!

"That's what I thought!" he called to his cronies, pausing once he had penetrated my defenses. "Real low level stuff. Go to Class Two or heavier, guys... in fact, the heavier the better!"

I should have seen it coming... maybe would have if I had more time to think. In a dimension that used both magik and technology, there were bound to be counter magik spells and weapons available. Unfortunately, it seemed I was about to learn about them first hand!

The other gang members were all reaching into their pockets and producing charms or spray cans. I had a bad feeling that my magikal ward wasn't going to protect me much longer. Apparently Kalvin was of the same opinion. "Quick, Skeeve! Have you got any other tricks up your sleeve?"

"I've always figured that, in times of crisis, it's best to play through your strongest suit. Still hoping to avoid any actual violence, I pulled my energy out of the wards and threw it into a new disguise: an over-muscled Pervect easily half again as tall as I really was.

"Do you boys really want me to get rough?" I shouted, trying as best as I could to make my voice a threatening bass. I had thought of making myself look like a policeman, but had discarded the idea. With my luck they probably would have surrendered, and then what would I have done with them? I wanted them to run... as far out of my life as possible!

It didn't work.

I had barely gotten the words out when a large chunk of brick ripped through the air just over my head... passing through what would have been the chest of the disguised me. "Disguise spell!" the thrower called. "Go for him like we saw him before!"

To say the least, I figured it was time for the better part of valor. Trying to keep my mind under control, which is harder to do than it sounds with half a dozen bully-boys charging down on you, I slapped on a levitation spell and took to the skies.

... At least, I tried to.

I was barely airborne when a vise-like grip closed on my ankle.

"I've got him!"

The grip hurt, which made it difficult to concentrate on my spell. Then, too, it seemed the day had taken a lot more out of me than I had realized. Normally, I can, and have, levitated as many as two people besides myself... count that as three since one of them was Massha. In the scramble of the moment, however, I was hard pressed to lift myself and the guy who was holding my ankle. I struggled to get him into the air, then something bounced off my head and...

The ground slammed into me at an improbable angle, and for a moment, I saw stars. The pressure seemed to be gone from my ankle, but when I opened my eyes, the leader was standing over me with his trusty board in his hands.

"Nice try, wise guy!" he sneered." But not good enough. Now give me the..."

Suddenly he went sprawling as someone piled into him from behind.

"Quick, Mr. Skeeve! Get up!"

It took me a moment to realize it was the street vendor I had spoken to that morning. He crouched over me, facing down the circling gang.

"Hurry up! I can't hold these guys off by myself!" I wasn't sure I could get up if I wanted to, but at this point I was willing to abandon any hopes of a non-violent solution to our problems. Propping myself up on one elbow, I reached out with my mind, grabbed a garbage can, and sent it sailing through the gang's formation. "What the..."

"Look out!"

If they wanted physical, I'd give it to them. I mentally grabbed two more trash cans and sent them into the fray, keeping all three flying back and forth in the narrow confines of the alley.

"Cripes! I'm on your side! Remember?" the street vendor cried, ducking under one of my missiles. I summoned up a little more energy and threw a ward over the two of us. Somehow, I didn't think anyone had thought to use their anti-magik stuff on a garbage can. A few more swings with the old trash cans, and it was all over.

Heaving a ragged breath, I dropped the ward and brought my makeshift weapons to a halt. Four of my attackers lay sprawled on the ground, and the other two had apparently taken to their heels.

"Nice work, Skeeve," Kalvin crowed, appearing from wherever it was he had taken cover when the fracas started.

"Are you all right, Mr. Skeeve?" the street vendor asked, extending a hand to help me to my feet.

"I think so... yes... thanks to you... J.R., isn't it?"

"That's right. I was walkin' home when I saw these jokers pilin' into you. It looked a little uneven, so I thought I'd lend a hand. Cheez! I didn‘t know you wuz a magician!"

"A mighty grateful magician right now," I s'aid, digging into my pocket. "Here, take this. Consider it my way of saying thank you."

"Excuse me," the Djin drawled, "but didn't we just get into this whole brawl so you could keep your money?" He needn't have worried. J.R. recoiled from the gold as if I had offered him poison.

"I didn't help you for money!" he said through tight lips. "I know you don't mean... Cripes! All you rich guys are the same. You think your money... Look! I work for my money, see! I ain't no bum lookin' for a handout!"

With that he spun on his heel and marched away, leaving me with an outstretched hand full of gold. It would have been a beautiful exit, if the alley hadn't suddenly been blocked by a vehicle pulling in... a vehicle with blue and red flashing lights on top.

Chapter Thirteen:

"Who? Me, Officer?"

—J. DILLINGER

"I STILL DON'T see why we should be detained." It seemed like hours that we had been at the police station, we being myself, J.R., and, of course, Kalvin, though the police seemed unaware of the latter's existence and I, in turn, was disinclined to tell them. Despite our protests, we had been transported here shortly after the police had arrived. The thugs had been revived and placed in a separate vehicle, though I noticed they were handled far less gently than we were. Still, it was small consolation to being held against our will.

"You don't? Well, then we'll have to go over it all again slowly and see if you can get a hint."

This was spoken by the individual who had been conducting our interrogation since we arrived. From the deferential way the other policemen treated him, I assumed he was a ranking officer of some sort. He possessed bad breath, a foul disposition, and what seemed to be an endless tolerance for repetition. As he launched into his oration, I fought an impulse to chant along with the now-familiar words. "We could charge you with Being Drunk in Public."

"I'm stone cold sober," I interrupted, thanking my lucky stars for Kalvin's assistance. "If you don't believe it, test me."

"There are a lot of witnesses who said you were falling down drunk in the bar."

"I tripped over a chair."

"Then there's the minor matter of Assault..."

"I keep telling you, they attacked me! It was self-defense!"

"... And Destruction of Private Property..."

"For cryin' out loud, it was a garbage can! I'll pay for a new one if that's..."

"... And, of course, there's Resisting Arrest."

"I asked them where we were going. That's all."

"That's not the way the arresting officers tell it." Realizing I was getting nowhere in this argument, I did the next most logical thing: I took out my frustration on an innocent bystander. In this case, the nearest available target happened to be J.R., who seemed to be dozing off in his chair.