Sorcerer in DC Chapter 37: SDC 37

So. I didn't upload the second chapter I promised. That's totally on . But in my defense, I was so busy working through the plot of the second act that it kind of got away from . It was a lot more difficult than I anticipated. And introducing a new elent I'd been saving for down the line kind of threw off.

Anyway, I'll be compensating for it by uploading a spare chapter soti during the week. Don't know when. Yet.

If you want to read ahead or support , there's Patreon.The goal for the week is the sa.

300 for one extra chapter

500 for two extra chapter

Read ahead on Patreon/artandcreativewriting.

Now onto the show.

---

The knocks ca quick and sharp, and Shady Slim slid open the narrow tal window he used to deal with all his clients.

"Julius?" he whispered, squinting. Then he laughed, catching off guard. "After last night, I figured you'd be halfway to the Canadian border by now."

"I don't back down from a fight," I said. "You should know that about by now."

He peered at , asuring. "You give any more thought to my proposal?"

He still wanted to stir the pot with the Russians—blow up Black Mask's blooming relationship with them.

I peeled seven grand from the wad tucked in my hoodie and slid it through. "

For what I owe you. I'm not about to piss off a major faction over Soviet-era grenades," I said. Even if they had been excellent.

A frown tugged at his mouth.

"But our interests might align down the road," I added, and that seed enough for Slim for now.

"You're really doing it, huh?" he asked. "Taking on a cri boss. Alone."

"I'm obviously not," I said, smiling faintly. "Not when I have you as an ally."

Slim's lips thinned. "I think you misunderstand the nature of our relationship, Julius."

"And I think you underestimate ," I replied—and hit the rewind button on my tape recorder. Then play.

His voice echoed from the little speaker, cutting through the quiet. Slim didn't flinch—but I saw it. A flicker. A shift. Impressed, not angry.

"Blackmail, huh?" he said. "Didn't think you had it in you."

I exhaled. "I needed to buy your silence, and money was only going to take so far."

"You haven't even made an offer yet."

"Well, I'm making one now." I leaned in. "I need a new identity."

"Planning for life after?"

"Sothing like that."

He humd, ducked into the back, and returned a minute later with a card. "Shelim," he said. "He's helped everyone from murderers to white-collar criminals to rapists. Doesn't discriminate."

"How does a guy like that stay protected?"

Slim grinned. "Genius-level IQ and a private army in Blüdhaven."

I gave a low whistle.

"His services aren't cheap," he added. "But I doubt that'll be a problem for you."

I added a few more thousands to the pile. Slim jotted sothing on the card and handed it over.

"Best to call from now on," he said. "Wouldn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention."

"Right," I said. We made the exchange, and I disappeared into the night before he could look up again. He stood there for a long mont, muttering to himself.

The number on the card burned a hole in pocket. Eventually, in an alley far from my safe house and even farther from any caras, I dialed.

The ringtone was a blast of Japanese rap. Soone yelled in at least three languages before finally answering.

"What do you want?" The voice was sharp, Arican--young.

I blinked. "Shady gave your info. Said you could get a clean ID."

"ID, ID," Shelim muttered. "That's all anyone wants anymore. Nobody asks for anything exciting."

A pause. Then, he spoke again.

"Co to Blüdhaven. I'll send the address. And bring twenty grand."

"What kind of ID costs that much?"

"Mine," he said flatly. "You haven't heard much about , have you? When I do a job, I do it right. Credit cards. Birth certificates. School records. The works. Be grateful I'm only charging you that much. Noon. Don't be late."

The call ended. Five hours later, I was on my way to Bludhaven under a fishing transport that allowed slip past cops, opportunists, and bounty hunters.

I arrived before noon and checked into a motel within walking distance of the eting spot.

I knew better than to assu Shelim wasn't already aware of my arrival. After a long-overdue shower, I dressed comfortably and headed out. I stopped at a mom-and-pop grocery store, picked out one of those care packages, and slipped an envelope with twenty grand in large bills at the bottom.

Dropped it off at the post office, tagged and addressed to my mother's current location. It should arrive within the week.

Task one, done.

The address Shelim gave led to a four-star hotel. The mont I stepped inside, every pair of eyes followed. Two n walked toward.

One had a beer gut and deep-set eyes ringed in purple. The other was rail-thin and covered in tattoos. Neither of them looked like fighters.

Probably because everyone else in here was.

"Co on," Beer Gut said. "Boss doesn't like waiting."

No weapons check, no pat down. That struck as odd—until we reached the top floor.

Seven guards flanked the entrance to the suite, all of whom were visibly ard. A tal detector like the ones at airports sat dead-center. I stepped through clean, but the woman in front raised her hand, stopping cold. She patted down hard, zero hesitation, and gave the nod to let through.

Shelim's office looked like a teenager's dream—if that teenager had infinite money and no supervision. One wall was a kaleidoscope of screens: so displaying code that moved faster than I could track, while others ran video gas.

He lounged in a leather recliner that looked custom-made, surrounded by snack piles and two barely dressed won lounging in the corner like set pieces.

When he spotted , he hopped to his feet. Tall. Much taller than . But there was sothing unmistakably young in the way he moved and spoke.

"Julius Spencer!" he grinned. "The man, the myth, the legend. I made a killing off you, you know?" He crossed the room, knocking a knuckle against my chest.

His eyebrows rose. "Solid."

I didn't bother acting surprised. Of course, he knew. Apparently, everyone who was anyone did.

"Sha you didn't stick around," he said. "Would've loved to see you in a ta match."

He snapped his fingers. The won stood and sauntered out without a word. They were supermodel-pretty, except they didn't starve themselves, and had curves in all of the right places. He caught watching.

"I know, right?" he smirked.

"You're younger than I expected."

He shrugged. "Genius IQ. Was I supposed to wait until I was in my twenties to enjoy myself?"

He flopped back into his chair and reached behind it, producing a small leather bag. He tossed it to , and I threw the envelope of cash. He didn't count it. It went over his shoulder, joining the pile of junk food and magazines.

"Why handle this personally?" I asked. "You could've passed this off to any one of your people."

He laughed. "I could have. But how often do you get to et another sorcerer?"

My blood ran cold. My mouth opened—but nothing ca out.

He leaned in slightly, voice low but electric. "You heard ."

Everything in the room went still.

"You're a—what did you just say?"

He grinned wider, like a kid getting away with sothing. "A sorcerer. Just like you."