by J. A. Areces
Tuesday
The next morning, Jesse woke up extremely early and tired. He spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed unable to sleep. For some reason, the chilling story clung to him. When he did manage to fall asleep, he would have the same nightmare; standing at the bus stop waiting to be murdered. Finally, Jesse endured enough and decided to take an early morning drive, hoping that he could clear his head. Jesse slowly drove by the Deli, but it was not open. Not surprising, he thought, but nevertheless, he peeked through the windows only to find the store completely dark. It was still too early in the morning. Cindy would have to wait until later. Disappointed, Jesse mounted his bike and went on his way to meet the wizard. He knew that he would arrive first and would have to wait, but he didn’t mind. He looked forward to a nice hot cup of coffee and sitting alone. Surprisingly, Jesse found the wizard sitting outside of the coffee shop on a small round table adorned with a pink rose in a small glass container. He wore his pointy, grey hat and black wizard’s cloak. His staff leaned against the table.
They greeted each other with a handshake, and Jesse took a chair across from the wizard placing his motorcycle helmet on the floor next to him.
“I took the liberty of ordering you breakfast,” said the wizard as he sipped hot, dark coffee from a mug.
“Thank you.” Jesse murmured.
“Bad night?” asked the wizard as he took another sip. The smoke from the coffee whirled about as he spoke.
“Yeah, nightmares.”
Breakfast arrived. It consisted of scrambled eggs, hash brown potatoes, bacon, sausage, buttered toast, pancakes and a large glass of milk. “I hope you’re hungry,” said a heavyset waitress.
Jesse smiled, “I am,” and he began to eat.
“How did you know I would be here early?” Jesse munched on a spoonful of potatoes.
The wizard smiled.
“And how did you know I would be starving?”
“Now, when can I test fly that broom?”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother”
“I mean to buy that broom, but I first need to fly it. Let’s go back to your store and give it a try.”
“Mr. eh, huh, what is your name?”
“Beifar Mahgo”
“Buffer?”
“No, it’s Beifar.” He took another sip from his coffee. “Let’s try to get it correct. It is pronounced Bay-Far.”
Jesse made one of those what-a-peculiar-name faces and then slowly repeated, “Bay… far”.
The waitress came by the table and refilled the mug.
“Thank you.” The wizard sat back in his chair. “Jesse,” he paused, “I need to tell you something. I haven’t been completely honest with you, but I think you need to know. I am a wizard.” He spoke slowly and firmly. Jesse didn’t respond. The wizard took another sip. “And a forty-five year old wizard also goes through a mid-life crisis. Now, isn’t it better to buy an expensive broom and relive my youth, rather then go and do something my wife wouldn’t like? I want to buy that broom. It’s the best on the market, and I got my wife’s okay. Well, sort of … I mean, I hope so.”
“Prove it. Prove that you’re a wizard.”
Beifar was silent. The divulging process reached its climax; he was expecting it. It was common whenever a Wizardry revealed him or herself. All Folk asked to substantiate their claim of magic. He experienced it many times throughout his career in the Department. It was a critical moment in the bonding process between Wizardry and Folk; if he handled it incorrectly, the relationship would be broken, and in this case, that would be terrible for Beifar. If accepted, and if Jesse could find it in himself to trust him, then the wizard would be able to continue and hopefully find the person he was searching for. The divulging process always required proof, wizarding. When Beifar was a rookie in the Department, he would perform some great feat of magic or special effect, but that usually frightened Folk away. He discovered that the purpose was not to scare them, but just to get their attention. The magic, he later came to learn, was in making Folk feel comfortable. He looked right at Jesse and slowly took hold of the blue amulet that hung from his neck. He held it tightly as the clear glass emanated a slight green glow. Jesse blinked and stopped chewing. “Nightmares,” stated the wizard. “Fear, scared, terrified; dead people on sidewalks clutching their chests; there were six of them in front of your store.” The wizard softened his grip on the stone. “Did I pass the test? Or do you require that I divulge personal facts and history?”
Jesse said nothing. He sat starring at the wizard. He took the tall glass of milk and drank it down fast, then placed it back on the same spot on the table. “I’m sorry,” he said politely, “but I’ve seen that kind of stuff on TV.”
The wizard smiled. He then twitched his index finger with the same hand that held the amulet and the empty glass of milk slid across the table towards him.
Jesse’s eyes followed the glass as it slowly moved across the table into the wizard’s hand.
The wizard released the glass and it slowly slid back to where Jesse originally placed it. Jesse’s mouth dropped, some of the breakfast still not swallowed.
“Can you really fly on brooms?”
“Of course!” Beifar took another sip. He allowed the divulging process to continue. It was going to be the only way to gain Jesse’s trust. “Broom flight is a piece of cake. Anyone can do it. If you can ride a bike, you can fly a broom.”
“But how?”
“The first, and most important rule is -- don’t sit on the handle of the broom; it hurts. No real flier sits on the handle. You sit on the back; the straw part, called the saddle. And most of all, you have to trust the broom. A broom does not fly unless you first trust it completely. No doubt; no insecurity; no fear; complete trust.” Beifar paused, his eyes turned to the clear morning sky, as he envisioned himself soaring above the clouds. “To go forward, you lean forward; to go slow, you sit up; to go fast you lean forward and get really low; the lower you lean, the faster the broom flies. A good flyer can get his entire body flat against the shaft, gripping the handle with one hand, cheek almost touching the shaft; that way the other hand is free for snatching. There is nothing like it.” His eyes grew wide and his eyebrows rose high on his forehead. Jesse watched Beifar attentively while eating his breakfast. He reached for the milk glass, not remembering that it was empty, and took an empty sip; Jesse was mesmerized. A gentle breeze came down the street and slightly pulled the brim of Beifar’s hat to one side. The autumn air was cool and fresh as it came up from the lake. “The grip is very important. The broom handle needs to be a perfect fit. The Stealth broom has a great handle, at least for me. I can hold on to it and keep my other hand free for my staff.”
“Why don’t you use a wand?” interrupted Jesse.
“Old school, I’m sort of a history fanatic, and, to be honest, I think it looks cooler. Besides, I’ve found that it could be useful for martial art moves,” answered the wizard. Then he continued, “You know a broom is flown very much like a motorcycle.” Jesse’s interest peaked when he heard motorcycle. “You turn by leaning your body to the sides. To go down, you push down on the handle, and to go up, you pull up, simple. To land, you push down gently, and then pull up as you approach the landing, running with it, until you’re completely stopped.” The wizard paused for a moment and drank more coffee. “I haven’t flown on a broom in years. To feel the wind rushing by and pulling on my cloak is a thrill. Dodging buildings and performing somersaults through low clouds; man it’s so awesome.” The wizard then turned his gaze towards Jesse, surprised to find him leaning far to his right. “Do you think you can do it?”
Jesse returned to reality. “No,” he said as he swallowed.
The wizard smiled.
“Is your wife a witch?”
He took another sip, “Nope, she’s a Folk.”
“Folk?”
“Well, that’s sort of a nic
kname for non-magic people. It’s also what they call themselves. Folks around here don’t like that; folks say; folks don’t like your kind. You know?”
Jesse laughed and Beifar smiled. The divulging process was going well.
“Do you have kids?”
“Yep, two boys. Andrew, the oldest, is sixteen and Brendan, the youngest is fourteen. They are both in high school at Marcellin; the same one I attended.”
“Are they wizards? Are they in a wizard school?”
“No, magic school is too expensive on my salary. It’s a local school for boys that offers special classes to wizards.”
“Everybody in that school knows of wizards?”
“No, that would be against the Salem Concord. Just a couple of teachers are wizards; they teach regular sciences, reading, and math courses to the Folks. They teach magic in secret. Classes are usually held everyday in a different room. As for my boys, I’m not sure; they seem to have some sense of magic, but no more than that. I have a cousin, Ana, who works in the Identification and Records Department in New York City. She came to visit the boys when they reached puberty but she said they showed no signs of wizardry. With no signs of magic, they never received a letter for Wizarding School.” Beifar looked concerned. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re just regular Folk like my wife, or maybe they’re late bloomers -- that can also happen. Neither one shows any interest in magic.” He complained. “This year they’ve been complaining about dressing up for Halloween and don’t want to take part in any Halloween events. I don’t get it. My family of Wizardry goes back many generations. There has always been at least one in every generation of my family. Where did I go wrong?”
Jesse didn’t know what to do or say. He felt as if he was sitting before his father and hearing him complain that his son was not going away to college. Jesse retained no interest in continuing the family tradition of becoming an attorney. For the first time, he understood how his father was feeling.
“So what’s the Salem Concord?” Jesse asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Good question. It’s the agreement between Wizardry and Folk that ended the Salem Witch War. You know it as the Salem Witch Trials, but it was much more than that, much more. History was purposely altered to keep us a secret. That was one of the conditions of the agreement. That’s why you don’t know about us.”
“So there are others like you?”
Beifar smiled, “More than you can ever imagine. We can be your neighbor, boss, or the butcher at the local supermarket. We’re everywhere, but we just live in secret.”
Jesse wiped the plate clean with the last bite of toast finishing his breakfast. He sat back in his chair, stuffed. Jesse wasn’t really sure whether to believe Beifar or not. Yeah, the moving glass was a good trick and there was no way he could have known of his dream, but maybe he just possessed one of those sixth sense things. He could have used magnets or something to move the glass across the table. Regardless, he found the conversation very interesting; the breakfast delicious, and felt comfortable sitting and conversing with the wizard. “What about villains? Are there any real villain wizards?”
The wizard quickly sat up.
“Jesse, you have to listen to me very carefully. Yes, there are evil wizards and I’m concerned with your safety.”
Jesse sat up, “My safety, why?”
“I’m a secret agent.” Beifar paused.
Jesse’s expression changed. Now he really doubted the man sitting across from him. It was hard enough to believe Beifar was a wizard but adding secret agent to the mix made it more difficult for Jesse to trust him or take him seriously.
Beifar noticed Jesse’s doubt. This was a critical moment and he couldn’t afford to lose Jesse. The wizard squeezed the amulet again. A sharp, yellow light shot through his fingers, and quickly vanished. Jesse sat marveled. The waitress turned toward the table, the flash having caught her eye, but now it was gone. She looked down the street searching for a car; none could be seen. She shrugged it off and continued to pour coffee into someone else’s mug.
“I need you to stay focused, Jesse. If you start to doubt me, your life will be in great danger. Do you understand?”
Jesse nodded.
“I’ve been chasing an escaped convict. He’s a very dangerous man who has killed before and will kill again. My leads point to Alivan’s Wizards and Witches Corner Store. That’s why I’m here and I’m running out of time. By the end of this month something is going down. He works in six-month cycles. He kills someone every six months and he’s already been out of prison for six months so he’s due to kill someone soon.” He paused. “This man is sick and crazy.”
Jesse’s mind began to race. He worked at Alivan’s Wizards and Witches Corner Store for six months; the previous owner of the house where he worked killed someone every six months.
“What does it have to do with me?”
Beifar reached into his wizard’s cloak and pulled out a roll of papers tucked inside a pocket. “You tell me?”
Jesse took the roll of papers and looked them over. They were copies of legal documents dating back to May, shortly after his hire date. Ownership papers and corporation papers revealed that Jesse Alexander was the owner of Alivan’s Wizards and Witches Corner Store. All were notarized and signed with his signature. Jesse gave the papers back to Beifar. “What the heck is this?”
“Why are you the owner of the store?” the wizard took hold of his staff while Jesse re-read the documents.
“I’m not!” Jesse shouted.
The waitress turned and made her way towards them. Jesse’s outburst caught the other patrons’ attention. “Is everything alright?” she asked. Beifar held out his mug so she could refill it. He winked and she understood -- teenagers.
“Jesse, you are the owner of Alivan’s Wizards and Witches Corner Store.” Beifar leaned closer and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “There is a powerful spell on that building that keeps investigators like me from going inside. The only way to go around the spell is if the owner, and only the owner, invites me in. That’s why yesterday I was standing outside most of the day. It wasn’t until you invited me in that I was able to enter the store.” Jesse gave no response; he just listened. “These are legal documents evidencing a conveyance and bank loan to you. Everything has been properly executed and recorded. They also include corporation papers and insurance policies with your name on them. Whether you like it or not, you are the owner of Alivan’s Wizards and Witches Corner Store. You have been since May. Six months ago…”
“This is crazy… you are crazy… I’m leaving.” Jesse scooted his chair back to stand. Beifar slightly waved his staff and Jesse couldn’t get up. He attempted again, but still couldn’t stand. He was stuck to the chair, and the chair was stuck to the ground. The wizard smiled. “Listen.” The young man reluctantly settled back in his chair, pulled on his long sleeve sweater, and pouted.
“I’m only trying to help you. You have to take this seriously. Your life can be in great danger. Do you understand? This man is a known killer.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about Mr. Claw.”
Jesse stared deep into the wizard’s eyes in disbelief. “Mr. Claw? No way!”
“Jesse, you have to help me. I know this sounds unbelievable, but I have less than a week to find this criminal. I don’t even know what he looks like. All his records have been magically destroyed. Someone from the inside is working with him. I have never seen him. He has eliminated anyone outside of his personal circle that can recognize him. Jesse, I’m what you would call an undercover cop of the Wizardry world.”
“You’re undercover? With that pointy hat and staff, you’re undercover?” Jesse pointed to the wizards clothing and shook his head as he chuckled.
“Before he died, Nicholas said that he was at Alivan’s Wizards and Witche
s Corner Store. Instead of finding him, I found you.”
“Nicholas? I know a Nicholas; Nicholas Fidgewidge?”
“Yes, Nicholas Fidgewidge.”
Oh no, thought Jesse, this is for real!
