King Midas' Magic

by Amorette Anderson

  “Nice to meet you, Polly,” I said with a nod. Skili hooted out her greeting. Blueberry gave a sharp yap.

  Polly shielded her eyes from the sun and looked at my van. “That’s what we’re going to drive in?” she asked unhappily. “Goodness, it looks ancient. How old is that thing?”

  “Red Rover is a ‘69 Volkswagen,” I said proudly. I loved my van. Some of the guests were walking toward it. I’d left the side doors open and I’d transformed the interior into shuttle seating for the trip down to the retreat center. “Welcome, everyone!” I called out. “Load up; there’s plenty of room for all of you and your luggage. We’ll depart for the Greene Center for Magical Living in five minutes!”

  One of the guests caught my eye. He was tall, handsome, and looked to be in his early thirties. He whistled a tune as he carried his duffle bag toward the van.

  King Midas pulled my attention away from the handsome stranger.

  “A vintage VW! What fun!” he said with another jolly laugh. Unlike his wife, he seemed to have an upbeat attitude. “Polly, doll, just go take a seat.” He waved her toward the van. “June will manage your suitcase. Won’t you June?” He turned toward another of his travel companions. This one, I was sure, was the family’s dog walker. I could tell because she had a little white dog in her arms.

  The dog, a fluffy Pomeranian, was perfectly groomed. June stroked the pup’s fur and smiled. “Happy to help,” she said in a quiet voice. She lifted her hand from the dog and nudged up her thick glasses on her nose.

  She looked as though she was in her early twenties. Her slender form was clad in a striped sweater and jeans. She had short, dark hair and thick bangs. I wondered how she got a gig like being a dog walker for King Midas. I also wondered how she was going to manage holding the armfull of dog and managing Polly’s massive suitcase.

  I watched her put down the dog and then drag the suitcase along the dirt road after the king and his wife. It seemed to me that she was used to juggling tasks.

  “June really is the best,” King Midas said to me. “I don’t know what we’d do without her. She’s worth her weight in gold, really.”

  “That’s going a bit far, don’t you think, brother?” a gruff voice just behind us said. “Her weight in ounces times the value of gold these days... that would put us at quite a hefty sum. Let’s not exaggerate.”

  My attention turned to the last of King Midas' entourage. A man that was about the same age as King Midas and had the same gray wavy hair and bulbous nose looked at me through narrowed eyes. He was much thinner than King Midas, but just as short. Instead of a fancy silk shirt, he wore a threadbare brown jacket with patches on the elbows. On his head was perched a tattered top hat. He had to look up slightly to make eye contact with me from under the wilting brim.

  “Your contract with King Midas stated that our meals would be included,” the man said in a gruff, surly voice. “It’s now two o’clock, which is lunch hour in the Spirit Realm. I’m hoping that you have a meal prepared for all of us at this center of yours.”

  “You must be The Miser,” I said, as I extended my hand. “King Midas' brother?”

  He eyed my hand for a second or two, and then reached out and shook it. His hand was cool and knobby to the touch. Though I could definitely tell that this man and King Midas were brothers, The Miser didn’t have nearly the same amount of flesh on his person that King Midas did.

  “Yes, that’s me,” he said to me with a nod. “Now, about lunch...?”

  “I’ll come up with something,” I promised. “Plus, we’re going to go to town for happy hour. There’s a fun historical reenactment that’s going to happen at our local watering hole. I think everyone is going to like it.”

  “And you’re paying for drinks?” he asked.

  “Yes, don’t worry,” I told him. Then I headed for the van, too. He followed, rolling his bedraggled, ancient suitcase along behind him. “Good,” he said. “I hate going out to eat or drink. Big waste of money if you ask me. Much cheaper to do that at home. Oh, and you’d better not shake my brother’s hand, like you just shook mine, you know. Even with gloves on, there’s still a chance...”

  “A chance of what?” I asked.

  “A chance you’ll be turned into a statue of gold!” The Miser exclaimed. We reached the van.

  “So it’s true?” I said. “The stories about King Midas? Everything he touches turns to gold?”

  King Midas, who was overflowing in the front seat, lifted a gloved hand and wiggled his fingers. “Everything!” he said gleefully. “It’s only my fingertips that are enchanted. Hence, the gloves! But my brother is right, sometimes even the gloves aren’t even enough of a barrier to protect my fingertips from what I touch.” His smile faded. “So I try not to touch too many things. My poor Denise...”

  The Miser looked sideways at me. “Denise was his last Pomeranian,” he said.

  Polly, in the back seat, piped up in her reedy, wobbly voice. “Poor, poor Denise,” she said.

  “She does make a wonderful doorstop though,” The Miser said as he passed me and climbed into the van.

  Polly gave The Miser a disapproving look. “Oh, please don’t say that! Poor Denise.”

  King Midas looked out at me. “This is what happened, Marley my girl. It was a mistake: I just tried to give my dog, Denise, a treat. My gloves were worn, and there was a small tear in the pointer finger. That’s all it took. Denise, rest her soul, is now solid gold. She was fourteen, and she lived a long, happy life.”

  “Even still, we want to avoid the same fate for Snowflake,” King Midas explained. “So only June can touch her. I’m strictly hands off. I do get to enjoy Snowflake’s shenanigans from a distance, though.” He gave another jovial laugh.

  June, who had just heaved Polly’s overstuffed suitcase into the back of the van, came up to my side.

  “So you can’t touch your dog?” I asked King Midas.

  “It’s good job security for me,” June said quietly. Then she scooted past me and climbed in next to The Miser.

  “Right,” said King Midas. “I can’t touch my dog, my wife, or my food. Like I said, it’s just the fingertips that are blessed—or cursed, depending on how you look at it.” He chuckled and wiggled his fingertips again.

  I peeked into the van. “Everyone ready to go?” I asked.

  Everyone nodded. The back seats, crammed with wide-eyed and smiling guests, looked quite happy about listening to King Midas' chatter. Even the hot guy I’d spotted a few minutes before was peering up toward the front of the van attentively. King Midas' enchanted fingertips had earned him celebrity status in the magical universe. Even many non-magical folks in the Earth Realm had heard of his magical powers to turn anything he touched to gold. He was an archetypical being, which meant that his story seeped its way into myths and legends all over the universe. The guests were all going to spend good money to be in his company all week. I wasn’t sure where that money would come in, exactly, since Cora had handled all the payment scheduling, but I did know that their payments would be due eventually.

  “Let’s hit the road!” I said. “It’s just a five-minute drive down to the center.” I slid the back sliding door closed, and then quickly slammed King Midas' door before he could try to do it. I didn’t want him reaching for the door handle and turning my precious Red Rover into solid gold—though the money would be nice, I had to admit.

  After I got Red Rover’s engine purring and started rolling down the dirt road, I spoke in a loud voice so even those in the back of the van could hear me. “How is everyone doing?” I peered into the rearview mirror and saw smiling faces—except for Polly. She grimaced as we bounced over a bump in the road.

  After a few guests gave a positive response, I spoke again. “I’m really happy you’re all here. I think this is going to be a great week for us. When we get to the center, I’ll give you a little tour so that you know where to find everything, and then I’ll show you to your rooms. At four, I’m going to take those of you
who want to join me into town. There’s a little historical skit taking place at our local bar that I think maybe some of you will get a kick out of. Or, you can stay at the center and rest up. At six, we’ll all meet up in the lobby for dinner and a welcome speech from King Midas—our speaker!”

  A hearty round of applause rose up from the guests in the back. I felt pleased that the week was getting off to such a great start. I’d had a few successful workshops at the center so far, in its first few months of being open. However, I’d also experienced a few workshops that got off to rocky starts. I was relieved that this didn’t seem to be one of them.

  So far, so good, I thought as I steered us into the retreat center parking lot.

  Now, if only the rest of the week can go this smoothly.

  A niggling sense of apprehension in the pit of my gut tried to tell me that would not be the case, but I did my best to ignore it.

  “Here we are!” I said proudly as I put the van into park. “The Greene Center for Magical Living.”

  Chapter Three

  After giving the guests the grand tour of the center, which included a trip through the spa area on the first floor and the meditation halls and gathering rooms on the second, I showed them to their rooms on the third floor. King Midas and his wife shared a suite, and The Miser and June each got their own. Though King Midas, Polly, and June all decided to stay at the center for the afternoon instead of joining me for a trip to the bar, The Miser was eager to accompany me. I suspected that he was simply intent on cashing in on as much free food and drinks as he could. I left Skili at my campsite in charge of a pink-leash-tethered Blueberry and helped The Miser into my van. A handful of magical guests joined us, and together we arrived at The Other Place, or The O.P., at 4:15.

  I told everyone to find seats while I ordered drinks. They wandered into the dimly lit bar while I strode up to the counter where beverages were served.

  “I’ll take a glass of wine, and a pitcher of whatever local microbrew you have on tap,” I said to the bartender, a woman named Janine with crimped brown hair and a friendly smile.

  I’d known Janine for years, so I wasn’t surprised when she leaned across the bar and said, “Marley, hon, who are your friends?”

  “Oh... well...” I looked back over my shoulder. The beings that I’d just entered the bar with were fanning out, finding seats at the high tables that packed the room. They mixed in with the locals about as well as oil mixes with water. Of course, I knew all of the locals well so it wasn’t hard to tell which was which, but I swear even if I’d been an alien from another planet I would have had no trouble dividing the bar into two groups—the odd, eccentric clothing of my magical guests (which included various unique hats, flowing dresses, and capes) was quite different than the traditional plaid shirts and faded denim of the local Hillcrest folks. Then there was the fact that one of the guests was a vampire who didn’t bother to hide his fangs and was smiling broadly at everyone.

  I actually saw one group of locals at a table get up and leave after two warlocks sat down at the adjacent table. Warlocks are famous for their unique (some say repugnant) smell, and I wondered if that was what had caused the locals to leave.

  I looked back at Janine, who was frowning. “Are they from that healing center you’re running these days, up at the old mine? Oh! Is this the tab that Cora already talked to Mayor Haywater about?”

  Our town mayor also happened to own the bar.

  I nodded. “Yeah,” I said.

  I felt bad about the locals who had just left. “I know they’re kind of an odd bunch,” I said quietly, “but they really wanted to check out the town. I think that if I bring some of my guests into town once in a while, it could be good for businesses in Hillcrest.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Janine said skeptically. Then she turned her back to me to fetch the wine I’d ordered.

  As she poured it from the bottle, I heard a voice behind me. “Is it wine o’clock already?”

  It was my best friend, Penny Shire.

  Her husband, a handsome vampire named Max with dark, espresso-brown curly hair and almost-black eyes was at her side. He wore jogging clothes, and had little water bottles clipped to some sort of elastic belt around his waist.

  “It’s only four!” Max said to his wife. “Water will be just the ticket. A nice, tall glass, with a slice of lemon and a pinch of salt. Lemon juice is rich in potassium, calcium, and magnesium, and the salt delivers just the right amount of sodium so that the cells can absorb the water.”

  “Your cells can absorb water,” Penny said to her husband. “But my cells want to absorb wine.” She gave me a smile. “How’s it going with the new group? Did everyone get here okay?”

  She looked past me, and I saw her smile fade as she took in the scene. “Wow. They're not exactly mingling with the locals, are they?”

  I followed her gaze, and saw that my magical guests were talking amongst themselves. The locals, who were usually boisterous when at The O.P., dancing, laughing, and having fun, were rather quiet. I saw lots of whispering taking place. I mean, lots. And quite a few were not-so-subtly pointing at the various magical beings as they gossiped.

  Maybe bringing my magical guests into town wasn’t such a good idea, I thought.

  I sighed. Janine placed my glass of wine and a full pitcher of beer down on the counter. I reached for the wine and took a sip.

  “Not yet,” I said, once I'd swallowed. “But I’m hoping when the historical reenactment starts up, and the beer starts flowing, everyone will kind of loosen up and have fun. I really want this little trip to go well. It’s an experiment, I guess. If this isn’t a hit, we’ll go back to keeping the guests up at the center during workshops, even if they do complain about the lack of Earth Realm cultural opportunities.”

  I lifted the pitcher of beer.

  “So I’ll count these drinks as paid for,” Janine said. I’d forgotten she was still listening in, and I grimace as I realized I’d mentioned the Earth Realm. Janine wasn’t a witch like Penny and me. Like most non-magical folks, she had no idea that other realms even existed in the first place, let alone that our little town harbored a portal gate to all four of them.

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” I said. “And I’ll take one more pitcher like this one, plus whatever these two want.”

  Max went about ordering a tall glass of water and a glass of merlot for Penny as I carried the pitcher over to one of the two tables in the bar that were occupied by my magical guests. I placed it amongst the two warlock men and the vampire gentleman, and they all thanked me heartily.

  I returned to the bar to pick up my other pitcher and a few glass mugs just as Max asked, “What is this historical reenactment about, anyways?”

  “Oh!” Penny said with excitement. “I totally forgot to tell you! You asked me earlier, but I got so sidetracked by that big bumblebee that flew into the house.”

  She turned to me with wide eyes. “Marley, you should have seen this thing. It was, like, the size of a small plane. And it sounded like a helicopter! And Turkey tried to eat it!”

  I imagined Penny’s dignified calico cat familiar, Turkey, trying to eat a bee. I laughed at the image.

  She kept on with her story. “Oh my goodness... I had to tell him, ‘Turkey, if you eat that thing, you’re going to have some serious indigestion.’ All that fur and those wings! Do bees have fur?”

  I wasn’t sure, so I couldn’t answer her. “Not to mention,” I said instead, “he’d be killing a bee. Bumblebees are so awesome and they’re endangered right now, too.”

  “I know!” Penny said. “Totally! I love bees! Save the bees!” She held up her hand and I gave her a high five.

  Max looked at the two of us. “So... the reenactment?” he said.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “It’s this thing that the town has been doing for years. The Historical Society and the Hillcrest Players drama club get together to reenact the scene when the Masked Bandit busted into the Miner's Saloon. That�
�s what this place used to be called way back before it became The Other Place, when this was a mining town. All the miners would come here to drink. The Masked Bandit was a robber who rode around the west stealing gold. He rode in here to Hillcrest, right into the Miner's Saloon one night and tried to rob the place.”

  “What happened?” Max asked. He accepted the lemon water that Janine handed him and took a sip.

  Janine, behind the bar, answered him as she grabbed an empty pitcher. “You mean you don’t know the story?” she asked. “Max, honey, you’ve lived in town for almost two years! It’s time you know the local lore. The Masked Bandit rode into the saloon on a horse.”

  “A real horse!” Penny jumped in with excitement. “The bandit had a mask over his face—obviously. He held his gun up and said, ‘Put ‘em up, pardner! I’m here for your gold!’”

  Janine leaned over the bar and grinned. “Well, you know how stubborn and independent folks in this town can be, and it was worse back in those days,” she said. “The pioneers who populated Hillcrest back then were a hardy bunch, I tell you. Those crusty old miners risked their lives every day to search for gold, and you can bet yer bottom dollar they weren’t about to just hand it over to some fool in a mask, even if he was armed.”

  I nodded, and jumped in. “The guy behind the bar was the owner of the saloon. His nick-name was Jake the Snake. He worked in the mines during the day and opened up his bar every night. He always kept a snake in his pocket when he was mining. If the snake died, he’d know to get out of the mine.”

  “Really?” Max asked. “You’re not just making this up?”

  Penny laughed. “It sounds made up, doesn’t it? But it’s true.” She sipped her wine.