And according to King Midas and The Miser, that was a good thing.
I thought of the workshop I’d attended. I remembered doing the role playing with Hal—or whatever his name was.
What is his name, anyway? I wondered.
And is he a recruiter? If so—is he going to recruit me?
Suddenly, I missed Justin even more than ever before. My ex was a grounding force for me, here in the Earth Realm. He reminded me to laugh. He reminded me to enjoy the simple pleasures.
I sniffed, and looked up through my blurry eyes in time to see a blue-winged butterfly flit past.
It was a beautiful sight.
And as I watched it, a thought flitted through my mind, as if carried by the butterfly.
Is Penny right? Is it possible for me to heal myself?
I wasn’t sure, so I placed my head back into my hands and sobbed some more. I cried until my throat and eyes ached. With puffy eyes and a weary soul, I made my way back down the trail.
I figured I’d better go back to the center. If the government was going to take it over and sell it, or whatever they planned on doing, things were going to get messy. A bit of magic had helped my witch sisters and I bypass a bunch of red tape that had to do with the center. Now it looked like the government was going to get involved, and I dreaded the consequences.
We’d better work some magic to make the building look like an old dilapidated mine again, I thought as I hiked back toward the center. So I’d better clear out some things, first. I wanted to take the crystals out of the mud bath rooms, and pack up some of my massage oils. It looked like I might be back to my one-woman massage business after all, and I thought I might need them.
I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I was barely conscious of the scenery passing as I walked. I arrived back at the center in a daze, and didn’t even notice Geoff down the hall in the spa until he called out my name. He was so dark that he blended in with the slate-gray walls, especially given the dim, ambient lighting.
“Miss Marley!” he called out. Splat, splat, spat. He walked toward me.
“Marley!” I heard the cheerful voice of Margie, who flew right behind my mud monster friend, wiping up his footsteps as she went.
My heart sank at the sight of them. If the center closed, I’d have to fire them, too.
“King Midas wants to see you!” Geoff said. “He’s in private mud bath room two, and he’d like a crystal grid set up. I had no idea what stones or flowers to use. We’re so glad you’re here!”
Margie zipped up behind me, and nudged me forward. Geoff reached for my hand with his own muddy paw. Together they dragged me toward room two.
“You guys, I’m not really in a great headspace for this right now,” I said. “It’s been a really bad day. Bad week, actually. I—”
“Just follow your instincts!” Margie said.
“You’re so good at setting up crystal grids!” Geoff said.
“Work your magic!” Margie said.
I resisted their nudges and pulls by digging my heels in. “Maybe you guys could just come up with something for him?” I suggested. “There’s nothing to it. I don’t think my grids are all that special. You both have done it before. Just spread some stones and a few random flowers out around the bath. It doesn't really matter which ones.”
They weren’t having it. The more I resisted, the more they pushed and pulled me toward the door.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Margie said. “We’ve only set up grids by following your lead. You’re a natural! Your instincts are stellar!”
“You have the magic touch,” Geoff insisted. They opened the door. I saw King Midas inside, using his rubber-gloved hands to pull off his white terry cloth robe. Beneath it he wore tropical swim trunks that barely contained his girth. “Wonderful! Perfect timing!” he said happily. “Just getting ready to hop in!”
With one final shove, Margie managed to get my feet to cross the threshold. “You’re going to do great!” she said.
Geoff gave me a muddy pat on the back. “Perfect timing, Miss Marley!” he said. They closed the door behind me.
“So,” King Midas said. “You’re a whiz at setting up crystal grids I hear.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said humbly. I wasn’t feeling too confident about my healing powers at that moment, given the mire and muck I was immersed in emotionally.
I wandered over to a shelf of stones. As if on its own volition, my hand reached out to citrine, which is known for its healing powers in the area of money and finances. “Interesting,” I muttered as I felt guided to walk to the end of the bath where King Midas would lay his head.
I’d noticed before that the stone I placed at the head of the bath was the most influential in the entire grid. It struck me as curious that King Midas, who could turn any object to gold just by the touch of his hand, would need help with his finances from a citrine stone. I eyed him, and found he was looking at me expectantly. He had his big toe held over the tub.
“Is it hot?” he asked. “Is it going to burn me? I’m going to keep my hands out, of course. I might need a little help getting in, just for balance, you know.”
He held his hands up and out to his sides and wobbled on the foot he balanced on. “Let me know when it’s ready,” he said.
“Just give me a minute,” I said, as I walked back over to the shelf of supplies. I plucked a handful of petals from a bouquet of pearly white roses. Then I gathered up half a dozen more stones: malachite, clear quartz, green aventurine, jade, amazonite, and tiger’s eye. As my energy focused on setting up the most healing bath I possibly could for King Midas, my own problems seemed to fade away. I felt a sense of space around them that I hadn’t felt before when they were all I was thinking about. It was nice.
I immersed myself in setting up the grid, until I felt that it was exactly right. Then I helped King Midas in. I placed two soft towels on either side of the bath, so he could rest his arms on them and wouldn’t worry about his fingertips slipping into the tub and transforming the whole thing into solid gold by accident.
“Ah... miraculous,” he said as he relaxed his head against the stone edge of the bath. “This is just what I needed. I really feel the effects already. Quite superb. Thank you.”
I eyed the stone at the head of the tub again.
“King Midas, could I ask you a question?” I said hesitantly, just as his eyes drifted closed.
He opened them and looked at me. “Yes, of course, Marley! Anything you want, my girl.”
“At the workshop yesterday, you said that we all have a bit of both energies inside of us—your energy, and your brother’s.”
“Yes, my brother and I are archetypes, my girl,” King Midas said. “That’s how it works. We represent parts of the psyche. Tough job, you know, but somebody’s got to do it.”
“Does that mean that even you have some miserly energy inside of you?” I asked.
He nodded. “Oh, ho, ho! Yes, yes, I do. Very little. Just a smidgen; but it’s there. I can feel it today, for sure. My wife’s news brought up some scarcity issues for me—fear of the factory closing down and all that jazz. The usual lack thoughts, I suppose. This bath is soothing my nerves.”
His answer helped me to understand why I’d been guided to the citrine stone, as well as the other crystals which had properties related to financial prosperity. Maybe even King Midas needed help with money issues, sometimes.
He went on. “Yes, yes, I do feel that miserly energy rise up some times, but usually it is very quiet in me. But it is there, I assure you. Allows for some good, healthy debate.”
I thought this over for a minute. Then I asked, “If you have two opposing energies inside of you, how do you ever make decisions?”
“Ah! Good question. I see you missed my day number four lecture—the finale of the weekend. It happened just this morning and it was a smash hit! Had everyone standing up with applause. Standing ovation, you know. The guests loved it. Why weren’t you there?”
“I was tied up in town at the police station,” I admitted. “Not that it did any good,” I added.
“Well—since you missed it, I’ll give you the key points now,” King Midas said. “It actually doesn’t take long to explain, but we really jazz it up just to give folks a little entertainment. You know—help them feel that they’re getting their money’s worth. But nonetheless, I can shorten it to two sentences. Those two short sentences will tell you all you need to know.”
I waited.
He smiled. “There are conflicting parts of the self,” he said. “When you get those parts to decide on something, that’s exactly when magic happens.”
He said it as if it was supposed to be some kind of big revelation for me, but I felt stumped.
He laughed. “It sounds so simple doesn’t it? That’s because most folks like to think about magic as the flashes of light and the spells and the potions. But no, no, no. Magic happens inside the mind first. It happens when you manage to get the warring parts of yourself to actually decide on something. That decision is the magic, you see?”
He leaned his head back against the tub and looked pleased with himself as he went on. “Most beings wander around at war... just constant, never-ceasing internal conflict. They can’t work magic because one part wants this, and the other wants that. Those parts are so loud, yet most people aren’t even aware of them. They’re not tuned in. They don’t listen to the dialogue, you see? They try to tie one part up and stuff it in a closet. I say—let it out! Let it out and let it talk. That’s the only way to reach a decision, and that’s the only way to work magic. You see?”
“I think so,” I said, though I didn’t really. “I hope you have a good soak.”
With that, I stepped out of the mud bath room.
Chapter Nineteen
I thought about King Midas' words as I walked down the spa hallway.
Is it possible that magic is all about decision making? I wondered.
It seemed almost too simple to be true.
I made decisions every day, even before I started to study witchcraft, and I never did magical things.
Or did I?
My feet slowed down. I paused, completely wrapped up in my thoughts. Is it possible that I’d been working magic my whole life, and didn’t know it?
Is it possible that my definition of magic was all wrong? Like King Midas said, I often thought about magic as flashy lights, elaborate spell rituals, and cauldrons bubbling with herb-infused potions.
But what if magic took other forms, too?
What if my massage therapy practice was its own little magical practice? And what if my everyday work here at the center was more magical than I was giving it credit for?
I can’t let it be shut down, I thought to myself.
And just like that—I felt a dialogue bubbling up inside of me.
You have no choice, one internal voice in my mind said. Your finances are a mess. You’re hopeless with money. You were given millions, and you squandered it all! You can’t manage your money, so you might as well not even try.
Now wait a minute, another part of me retorted. I didn’t squander my inheritance. I saved thousands—who knows—maybe more—of cute little seals that were almost killed by that oil spill off the gulf coast. And my donation led to a whole new wing at the wolf sanctuary in New Mexico! I think those were worthwhile donations. I may have gone a bit overboard—I’ll admit that.
The first voice continued its angry rant. You should have saved some, at least. It was so foolish to give it all away!
I could tell that the first voice was my inner Miser. I could almost picture her sulking in the corner, wearing a ratty top hat just like The Miser wore when I first met him. Look at the pickle you're in now! The miserly part of me growled.
You're right, I am in a pickle, the second internal voice said. So what should we do?
My inner Miser perked up. It was like she was happy to be consulted. You want my opinion? she said in awe. You’ve never, ever, ever asked for my opinion. Not even once.
Well, I’m asking now, the second voice said.
She straightened her ratty top hat. You need to figure out who killed Two-Cats, she said. That way you’ll earn that bag of gold, and you can pay off your debts.
But I’m at a dead end with the case, the second voice said.
Are you? she asked. I can think of one avenue worth pursuing—you’re just too scared to do so.
I didn’t have to listen for an explanation. She was an imagined part of me, after all. I knew that she was talking about Hal. I had to talk to him. I had to know why he was in The Miser’s room, snooping through his things.
When I found him, he was sitting out on the deck in the sunshine. He had a folder out in front of him, with papers inside. As I approached, he quickly scooped up the papers, stuffed them into the folder, and picked the whole thing up.
I eyed him suspiciously as he tried to stuff the folder into a bag that he had nearby.
“What is that—a folder about me?” I asked. “My likes and dislikes or something? Is Sarin preparing you for another round of psychological warfare?
“What?” He looked genuinely confused. “Why would it be a folder about you?”
“You’re here to try to recruit me, aren’t you?” I said. “Sarin sent you. I’m guessing that’s why you lied about your identity...?”
“No,” he said.
I didn’t believe him.
He eyed me warily. “Are you okay? You sound paranoid, and your eyes are all red and puffy. Did you find the shooter last night? I came up empty-handed. I went to your van at midnight to tell you, but you weren’t there. I was worried about you.”
“I didn’t find the shooter,” I said. “And I’ve been crying all morning. But I’m working through it. I’m a healer, I guess. So I’ve been told. And what I’m trying to do is actually heal myself.”
As I said this, I felt warmth in my pocket. I placed my hand inside, and felt the heat of my necklace.
I took it out, and it was glowing with light. I smiled faintly. It seemed to me to be a pretty clear sign that my attempt to heal myself was actually working.
I pressed on. “Just because we couldn’t find the shooter, I’m not giving up on this case. I really want to figure out who wants The Miser dead. There've been two attempts on his life now. You were so helpful when he got shot—but I don’t really get it ... the night before, you were in his room snooping around. I’m trying to figure out why in the world you’re interested in The Miser if you’re actually here to recruit me.”
He looked left and right.
Then he leaned toward me and spoke in a hushed voice. “I’m really not here to recruit you, Marley,” he insisted. He looked left and right over his shoulder again, and then continued in a whisper. “I wanted to tell you this last night, but things got so crazy. Are you sure you can keep a secret?”
I nodded. I was dying to know what he was going to say.
“My name is Sam Lyons,” he said. He pulled out his wallet and then extracted an official-looking badge. He slid it across the table to me. “Spirit Realm Department of Financial Crimes Enforcement. SRDFCE.”
“That’s one heck of an acronym,” I said as I studied his badge. In his picture, he looked as cute as ever. My mind was racing. “So, you’re some sort of cop?” I asked him. I handed back the badge.
“In a way, I suppose,” he said. “I enforce the law. Our department is investigating the peanut factory that The Miser and King Midas run: Royalty Roasters. They’ve been on our radar for a year and a half, but we can’t seem to get evidence that they’re breaking the law.”
“What law?” I asked.
“The law about how much gold King Midas can create,” Sam explained. “After he nearly caused an economic collapse when he first came into his powers, our government had to put strict limits on how much gold he can make.”
“And you think he’s making more than he should?”
Sa
m nodded. “It seemed that way to us. Royalty Roasters makes a hefty net profit each year, which seemed extraordinary given that all they do is sell bags of peanuts. It seemed almost impossible that the profit that they reported was really coming from peanut sales.”
He pulled out the folder that he’d tried to hide from me.
“What I needed to do was go over their accounts. The problem was, The Miser sleeps every night with his accounting paperwork right by his side. I couldn’t figure out a way to sneak a peek at it. But then I heard he was coming here, and I knew it was a perfect opportunity; I figured a new healing center such as this one probably wouldn’t have tight security, so I could sneak into his room easily. And it was easy—I was able to get photos of his entire budget for this past year.”
“And what did you find?” I asked.
“It’s incredible,” Sam said, with a strange sense of awe in his voice. “It’s really, really incredible. I’m having a hard time believing it, but it seems to be true. I’ve gone over the numbers a dozen times now, and each time I get the same result.”
“Which is...”
“Royalty Roasters peanut factory truly earns all the profit that The Miser and King Midas claim.” Sam spread the papers out in front of me. “I mean, it’s all here, spelled out in black and white. They manage their budget immaculately. Every smidgen of profit is reinvested into the company. There’s absolutely no superfluous expenses. Their factory is extremely efficient.”
I nodded. “It makes sense to me,” I said. “The brothers work well together. They listen to each other. A guy who can create gold and a guy who obsesses over spending it wisely—it’s a winning combination.”
“I guess so,” Sam said. “I think I’m going to actually have to close the case against them. They’re doing everything by the books. This P and L statement could be used for teaching a class in business, you know. It’s the best one I’ve ever seen.”
King Midas' Magic Page 15
