And yet, the fifth model walked in, and nothing happened.
But the gowns were – well, maybe not terrible, but bland. Boring. Uninteresting. The models – unattractive. All of this seemed a ripoff of something else. Unoriginal. Was this supposed to be this creative Warsaw fashion scene? He found himself increasingly bored, jaded, lulled to sleep.
‘Aren’t they just beautiful? And the gowns are so spectacular!’ whispered Zu with her usual excitement. ‘Adelaide is really going to make a splash with this collection!’
‘What are you talking about? They’re bland, terrible, tasteless.’
Zu looked at him as if he had fallen on his head.
‘Are you all right? They’re exactly what you like. What got into you?’
The last question strangely echoed in his head. Like a slap in the cheek.
What got into me?
The sixth model walked in, and she really looked spectacular. Hugo couldn’t take his eyes off her.
This is the worst dress I have ever seen.
He had to act quickly.
‘Please hold my hand.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s the tampered champagne. Did you drink it?’
‘Finally I didn’t, with Jean-Claude and all this excitement.’
‘I thought so. Hold my hand, I must neutralize this spell inside my veins. I need a hook in reality. Whatever happens, don’t let it go.’
‘I don’t understand anything, but sure.’
She held his hand fast and strong. He could go inside.
His consciousness entered a different, molecular plane, and entered his veins to look for the molecules of spell that was floating inside him like a virus. For support, he visualized a stream of light from above, voicelessly encanto-ing help from heavens for purity and clarity. He had to overpower that spell. Anchor his normal self in Zu’s hand, stay there, gather his power, create the spell, and then flush his veins with it.
The other spell was fighting with him. Not only had he to use some of his energy to create the spell, but also had to counteract the malicious one.
It was an illegal, vicious spell aimed at subtly modifying human perception, opinions, feelings. Vicious, as it – upon entering a human body – dispersed itself into little pieces (and as such, was hardly traceable, except for a highly skilled wizard), and you had to basically operate on a quantum level and ensure a cooperation from the quantum field to get rid of all the molecules. And operating directly on a quantum level is energy-consuming. And it was evening, he was tired, and the Nazi erasing spells weakened him.
He began to pray. To pray for a little more power, power to overcome the vicious spell. He just needed to stay on this side of his consciousness. Just a little.
Plus, the flower magic from the opening was distracting him.
Just stay fucking focused! Zu’s hand!
The eerie song of the flowers were getting stronger. Like a siren song. Zu’s hand was his rope tying him to his mast.
A few moments more. He already felt the spell purging out of his body. Just a few moments more.
Zu’s hand.
Golden light. God.
Focus.
Purging. Going down.
Good.
Stay strong.
Zu held him a bit stronger. Good girl.
Silence. Quantum field silence.
He opened his eyes. It’s done.
‘Are you all right?’ Zu was still holding his hand.
‘I have to go to the bathroom. If anything begins to happen, think very intensely about me. I will know.’
She just nodded.
He left. Drawing attention to himself, but he didn’t care.
*
He needed a physical purge to remove the material residue of the spell. It was very unpleasant, but he finally felt pure.
He had a slight headache, but it will pass in a few minutes.
But the worse thing was, he knew it was not the end. To save this show, he had to somehow purify the minds of all the attendees, and it was barely possible. This show was doomed, everybody was already hating it. Even if they loved it.
He already felt rage at the person that resorted to this kind of spell-casting. Besides the fact that it was illegal, Hugo vehemently opposed any form of mind-altering on ethical grounds, as it was actually encroaching on the territory of personal freedom.
There’s no fucking way I’m letting them get away with it.
Saving this show, though, was a breakneck enterprise. He had to act quickly.
He took out his phone and messaged Zu. She appeared after a while.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ she asked, emerging from the auditorium.
‘The champagne had a perception-altering spell. People are hating this show in spite of themselves.’
‘Who the fuck did it? Klara? Jean-Claude?’
‘No idea. We’ll get to that later. Now we need to stop it and wait until it subsides.’
‘How long?’
‘Half an hour at least. But with some people it might even take one or two hours. We must change the dresses into something they can easily hate without thinking of Adelaide’s collection.’
‘Power outage? It’s easy to hate the darkness. There’s nothing else to hate then.’
‘That sounds totally crazy, but…’
‘We can spin a sabotage story or something. Plus, this is an old building. Many possibilities.’
‘Oh God, you’re so brilliant. And it would win us some time. Go find Adelaide, her PR manager and the MC. We need to let them in on what’s going on. Tell them to stop the models going out onto the catwalk. Let the MC spin the pause as part of the show. The audience absolutely cannot see anything else. I’ll take care of the power outage. Plus, we need to immediately exchange this shit into something else to drink. When you find them, can you coordinate a swift delivery of good champagne?’
She nodded and rushed off backstage.
Hugo quickly sent a message and went off to look for the power box.
But how do you do a power outage without any technician around?
Hugo was exhausted from the purge spell, but a bit of invisibility spell could still work, if need be.
He had no time to look for the power box, so he focused deeply, contacted the Source, visualized his target and asked to be led the right. A bit more magic energy used, but there really was no time.
He heard the music fading and the MC starting to spin some silly story. At least they managed to stop the models. Ade must really trust Zu to give in to the story that must have seemed idiotic to her. But good. We have a bit more time. Maybe we can save the rest of the dresses.
Off he went, letting the intuition guide him.
‘Ah, sir, where are you going?’
‘Hi, I’m the show’s manager, as you can hear there is some lighting trouble, I need to check the power, can you tell where the power box is?’
‘Sorry, that’s for technical personnel only.’
‘Don’t be silly, you really want to get in trouble? A lot of journalists are here, you want them to know how incompetent the staff in this venue is that they can’t even ensure proper power supply? Just tell me, and nobody hears a word. I’ll take care of it.’
‘Down these stairs and to the left. But please don’t do anything stupid. It’s my first week and I really need this job.’
‘Thanks. Rest assured. Everything will be fine. We really must save this show. For the sake of everybody. Whatever happens, stay quiet.’
And off he went, without really waiting for a reply.
He wasn’t happy about how he treated the poor guy, but there really was no time.
He found the power box, opened it and looked at the labels. Ok, maybe there’s no need to do the outage for the entire building.
There was a label that said “Auditorium”. He gathered a bit of blocking spell in his fingers and directed it at the auditorium switch. Nobody investigating it later will know the switch was turned on purpose.
He heard a short crack and left.
Back at the foyer, Zu and the rest were already there. Adelaide was sobbing.
‘Hugo! Did you do it?’
‘Yes, auditorium only. This should make it easier for us to operate here. Did you manage to order the champagne?’
‘Yes, it’s on its way.’
‘And who are you exactly, sir?’ asked the PR manager.
‘Hugo Czartoryski, wizard, historian and magical consultant. I know this sounds pretty idiotic, but trust me, Zu and I are doing everything to save the show.’
‘It was going so well, and now you destroyed it.’
‘That’s only how it looks like. But the champagne was really tampered with. Everybody right now is hating the collection. We need your input in how we can spin all that, wait for the spell to fade out, and make people watch the show again, with clean perception, and love the rest of the dresses. Ade, how many dresses do you have left?’
‘Twenty.’
‘Is this enough to show as the entire collection?’
‘That’s not a lot, we already showed ten.’
‘Can you quickly redo the first ten in some way, I mean, add a shawl, drape something over, whatever?’
‘We can try. I have a few seamstresses here for emergency. How much time do we have?’
‘At least half an hour.’
‘And tell the MC to play some music. Re-do the flower illusion, whatever. Let him tell some idiotic story about troubles in the fairy realm or something.’
She nodded and went off.
‘Now, how do we spin it so that people stay here and re-watch the show?’ Hugo asked the PR manager.
‘Oh God, that’s tough.’
‘Can we do it the thrilling way? Tell people about a sabotage, rally them to support young Polish fashion industry, ask them to wait, drink more champagne, eat the tartines?’
‘That’s risky, but if it worked well, it could work really well.’
‘People would feel they are part of something important, of an adventure really,’ added Zu.
‘On the other hand, it’s highly tricky legally. If we spread the rumours about sabotage and there has been no sabotage – ’
‘But there has been sabotage. The champagne proves it.’
‘But we are not sure if we want to spread this news. I’d prefer a quieter approach.’
‘Let’s spin the story about how old buildings have souls and an independent life and this one is the case in point. A haunted manor or whatever. So the electricity failed,’ posited Zu. ‘Let’s make the models stand with candles to show the way out.’
‘Yeah but if the spell put them in a bad mood, they will simply want to leave,’ said the PR manager.
‘She’s right. The spell needs at least half an hour more to start wearing off. Let’s keep people there for about fifteen minutes with models walking around with candles. Let the MC spin this haunted manor story or whatever. After fifteen minutes, they can start going out,’ Hugo said.
‘Can we discreetly boost their mood somehow? Though you will probably tell me how unethical that is.’
‘You’ll be surprised, my dear, in this case it’s different. I am even waiting for someone to do this. He should be here any minute.’
He should have said that he would be here that minute.
‘Hugo, my friend, what can I do for you?’ a loud voice roared in a bit of a distance.
‘Artem, so glad you’re here,’ they hugged.
Artem was a Ukrainian wizard and a friend of Hugo’s from their times of studies in the desert.
‘I need your help. My energy is exhausted and we need to boost the moods of circa a hundred people here.’
‘No problem. But that doesn’t sound exactly legal, does it?’ he asked, but with a twinkle in his eye. Artem was they guy you could count on when you needed to operate in the… let’s say grey area. He loved the grey area. He found it fun.
Hugo explained the situation to him. Then he turned to Zu and the rest.
‘All right. So in ten minutes we are letting people into the foyer. Let the models stand in line with candles to point the way towards the door. Let them leave one by one through one entrance only. Artem will be standing by the exit and will perform an invisible spell. It won’t be a very strong spell, we need it for a hundred people, but it should be enough to make them stay.’
‘And then what?’ asked Zu.
‘Now, you must come up with something to entertain them with. I don’t know, selfie time? Interviews? I’ll leave that to you.’
‘Zu, could you talk to a few of the most influential ones? Your charm will sway them over to stay.’
‘Oh, with her, you don’t need my spells,’ added Artem, looking at Zu.
‘I won’t take any chances. By the way, can someone finally remove this champagne? And close it somewhere. We’ll need to investigate it further at a later time,’ Hugo asked.
‘Ade, you should also give a speech. Improvise something about thinking on your toes, being flexible, you know, the startup way, we are creative, etc., and encourage them to post selfies. Can we conjure some kind of an illusion for an attractive selfie stand?’ asked the PR manager.
‘Illusions are tough to sustain. Artem?’
‘Oh, you know I’m not great at illusions, and not that imaginative.’
‘I will need a bit of your power then. Let’s do a combination spell. Ade, I need a vision from you. It’s your show after all. Grab Artem’s hand, come up with whatever you want for that stand, Artem will take it, amplify it with his power, and I’ll create the illusion.’
‘Thank you for saving my show,’ said Ade.
‘Thank me later, I haven’t saved it yet. But we must try. I won’t let some big bullies from abroad jeopardize it.’
Zu smiled. That was the Hugo she loved as a friend.
Then they created the most charming, enchanting, beautiful stand ever. The one Instagram influencers would die for. And that’s what they were hoping for. That they would really want to die for it. Forget about the collection and want nothing more than to have the most glamorous selfie ever. It was pure magic.
Adelaide almost had tears in her eyes. Zu took over and went backstage to tell everybody what to do.
Artem stood by the door ready. People started to go out. Everything went smoothly, even if people were really disgruntled and complaining. But after Artem’s work, and seeing the selfie stand, they took a gasp and began to get under a very different kind of spell.
And yet Hugo couldn’t stop thinking that it’s not quite yet over.
He watched people go out for a bit and then he suddenly realized that in all that madness he didn’t have the time to examine the tampered champagne.
Who could tamper with it? Klara, Jean-Claude?
He knew it was ridiculous. Of course, they might have had something to do with it, but it must have happened before the event. You can’t just magically tamper with fifty bottles unnoticed.
He went to the room, only to find an unexpected visitor.
‘Mr Jean-Claude?’
‘Yes, do I know you?’
‘I’m friends with Zu, she talked to you before the show. I should rather ask you first – what are you doing here?’
‘And who are you, to ask me that question in such an impertinent manner?’
‘Hugo Czartoryski, historian and security consultant. I’ve been hired to watched over the event.’
‘No, you didn’t. You seem a competent – if rude and arrogant – man, and this fashion show is far from looking like as if taken care of by competent people. Let me guess, you came here to examine this champagne, which obviously has been magically tampered with.’
Now, that came as a surprise. The man in pink stripes is a wizard?
‘Yes, I am a wizard. I don’t work as one, as I find it utterly boring. Moreover, I have quite a narrow set of skills, which come in handy sometimes, but altogether, my current line of work is far more sexy and interesting.’
Hugo couldn’t help but like this guy. Despite the pink stripes.
‘And which line of work it currently is exactly?’
‘Oh, you’ve heard the rumours? People have the wildest of imaginations sometimes.’
‘Why are you really here?’
‘I think the more important matter right now is – how to prevent anything else that can destroy this show. Yes, I really am a champion for the young, fledgling fashion industries. You see, in my line of work, you see so much that anything fresh and full of energy is much more interesting than big, stale behemoths.’
Hugo smiled.
‘Now, to assure you, there is not even a trace of a Frenchman’s signature in these spells. Of course, someone tried to erase the signature after tampering with the champagne, but even with what remained, I can feel it has none of French or Italian origin in it. Or anything I can recognize. And as Eastern countries are the ones I’m least familiar with, I’d say you should look East for the real perpetrator.’
‘Not bad.’
‘I’m an excellent signature tracker. That’s why the wanted me to be a hunting dog at the Interpol. Not very sexy. I turned down the offer.’
East. I need Artem.
A moment later, he materialized at the door.
‘Uplifting the moods of those people was exhausting. I’m going to bed,’ he said.
‘I need you to do one more thing.’
He introduced Artem to Jean-Claude, and then explained the situation.
‘I’m not a great signature tracker, but I know the East for sure. Of course, we can easily suspect the result.’
Yeah, I guess.
Artem opened one of the bottles, put his hands over it, and focused his mental energy for a few moments.
‘Yeah, a lot has been erased. I can’t pinpoint a specific person obviously, but I can for sure say it’s Russia.’
Of course it is.
‘That would explain it,’ said Jean-Claude, partly to himself.
‘Explain what?’
‘At first I didn’t really think much of it, I thought, maybe it’s some political refugee, but when I was going to the bathroom, and I lost my way, and went somewhere else, for a moment I heard someone speaking over the phone that might have been Russian. It certainly wasn’t Polish, I’ve been here before, I know how your language sounds.’
Hugo and Artem exchanged looks.
‘Oh fuck. This is far from over.’
To be continued.