A lead weight sank into Wycke’s chest. What a futile mission. Why hadn’t Saris trusted him sooner? Why wait so late to tell him? He’d find nothing here. Not now. When he raised a hand, a taxi pulled to the curb.
What a dreadful machine. The car changed at a mere thought, the hard-worn vehicle turning long, dark green, shiny. Okay, he’d tried for black. At least he’d not blown the car to pieces.
This time. The driver would see nothing different. Easier than trying to rearrange his memory.
People in this realm impressed easily: money, power, wealth. Wycke would give them what they wanted.
Ye gods! The inside reeked. Another silent command matched the interior of the conveyance to the outside. However, the upholstery appeared in a horrible shade of yellow, complete with a better smell. He stared out the window as the car made its way through crowded streets. Stores, restaurants, a movie theater. So far, the city seemed much the same as other cities he’d visited in this realm.
Next, he concentrated on one of the spells he’d just about mastered. A fistful of gold became a Visa Gold card. So easy. Make purchases, yet keep the card. Not like gold, which, once gone, stayed gone.
It would take many seasons of using the card to equal the amount of gold he’d put into the bank account set up long ago to pay bills.
The car took him to his hotel. The driver got out and opened Wycke’s door.
On his third try, Wycke managed to convert his clothes into something more fitting for this place and slowly exited the car, a man in no hurry.
Once out of sight, the elegant car returned to its previous appearance, and Wycke let out a relieved sigh. Maintaining glamour took so much strength. The cab driver might have only a vague memory of the trip, though he likely wouldn’t care, given Wycke’s generous tip.
At least fifteen pairs of eyes watched him, from valets, bellhops, doormen, to other hotel guests. A wide-eyed troll opened the door with a reverently whispered, “Your Highness.” A troll? Here?
Wycke handed him a silver piece. “I’m merely a human businessman, my friend. Surely you mistake me for another.”
“No, I…” The troll shifted his gaze from Wycke to the silver piece then back to Wycke. Trolls weren’t known to be quick-minded. “Oh! Yes, sir! I’m mistaken. Please forgive me.”
A troll doorman. How quaint, though others saw a middle-aged, slightly balding human. Quite possibly a troll from Myrgren, who’d survived the war by escaping to the human realm.
Wycke examined the glamour. Well done!
Technically, citizens of his world weren’t supposed to cross into the human realm, where human minds weren’t equipped to deal with his kind. Likely the reason the troll expended energy on the illusion of a human form. To do otherwise meant humans admitting they’d been wrong about many things.
Nothing humans hated worse than being wrong. Maybe Wycke should inquire how the troll managed to get here. Only powerful magic built portals.
More people inside the lobby joined the voyeurism, staring at Wycke with open curiosity.
Marble floors, so like his current palace home. Crystal chandeliers hung above the lobby. Richly upholstered couches in shades of magenta and teal sat throughout the space. The combination of colors shouldn’t have worked so well. Some humans with vision created their own form of magic, he supposed. He strolled through the lobby, head high. The suit he’d crafted to hug his lean frame appeared of the finest quality, made to fit only him if one didn’t look too closely.
A couple trundled past, pulling chests behind them. Long handles, wheels. How practical. The pair stopped, following him with their eyes. One needn’t peer too closely into their minds to see their intent.
They’d be open to a threesome. The matching rings warned of morning-after baggage for accepting their unspoken offer. Besides, he’d come here on business, not for recreation. He averted his gaze.
The line of people at check-in suddenly recalled urgent matters requiring their attention. Suggestion needed little skill, human minds being so malleable. Wycke approached the now-free counter, pitching his voice low. “Reservation for W. Bertillian.” He lifted one side of his mouth in a charming smile. Yes, he could attempt to materialize in his room, but he’d discovered the advantages of being seen during a past visit.
Humans used the phrase “an alibi.”
A handsome man looked up. Wycke could easily lure him…
No. Wycke was not at court, where he worked hard to live down to others’ expectations. And he hadn’t come here for fun.
For the first time in ages, he’d been trusted to fulfill a task he alone could manage. Saris knew him. Trusted him. Her opinion held more weight than the rest of Dhugach’s citizens combined. He’d not let her down.
The clerk returned his smile, barely tearing his gaze from Wycke’s face to check his… What was the thing called again? Ah… computer. Yes, he checked his computer. “Here we go. W. Bertillian, a suite on the tenth floor, room 1014.” A vacant smile replaced the clerk’s attentiveness.
Oh, dear. Time to turn down the charm. How easy to forget the impressionable minds of humans from this realm. The clerk jerked, released from Wycke’s spell. “Oh, sorry, sir. I have no idea what came over me. Let me get your keys. Will you be using the credit card you made the reservation with?”
As if someone of Wycke’s caliber made their own reservations in this world. “Yes.”
The clerk smiled again, handed him two plastic cards, adding a wink. “If there’s anything you need, dial zero and ask for Carl.”
