The Magic Shop

by Justin Swapp

  Direct and true, a streak of magical energy leapt from Marcus’s brim and connected with Sol. Instantly, energy coursed through Marcus’s body. It felt good. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this feeling.

  Sol staggered, not expecting a blow from a helpless boy trapped in a cage. Marcus took a certain delight in watching Sol weaken again as he depleted the magic in him.

  Then, somehow, Sol straightened up, as if Marcus’s power no longer had an effect on him, and in that instant Marcus felt like the thousands of volts of magical energy that surged through him suddenly came to a stop and went quiet.

  Then came the pain.

  First, Marcus’s back spasmed, and then he buckled over. He thought that the feeling of magic being extracted from him might be quite like reversing the flow of blood in one’s body, only many times worse. Finally, he collapsed, as there wasn’t much magic in him to start with. This had happened to him before, and he knew he didn’t have much time left.

  “Stop it, Sol,” Mirella said quietly, almost to herself. She seemed disconcerted.

  “I told you!” Winston shouted, pointing at Sol before his head fell back to the floor. “I told you this would happen.”

  “Stop!”

  Then, something Marcus never would have thought possible happened: Mirella leapt out and stood between Marcus and Sol, shouting “No!” She screamed as the beam connected with her. She seized up but stood her ground.

  Sol’s eyes widened, and then narrowed in what Marcus thought was confusion. For a brief moment, Marcus saw greed. He knew the feeling, but it was difficult to describe: the unquenchable urge to absorb all magic around him. He knew it when he saw it. Sol just might kill Mirella.

  A moment later, Sol shook his head, like someone had splashed cold water on his face. Marcus saw the conflict in his countenance when he shouted and cursed, then finally turned from Mirella, leaving her lifeless on the floor.

  Sol breathed deeply and replaced his brim back into the talons of his cane, then collapsed, looking as weak as ever. Then Marcus heard him whimper and cry.

  “Faustino,” managed Mirella as she stirred. The magician kneeled at her side.

  “Yes, my lady,” he said, helping her up.

  “Take Sol up to his room,” she struggled a little before getting back to her feet with Faustino’s help. “He needs time to recuperate from this… thing that has been troubling him. Give him whatever magic he needs, even if it’s yours.”

  Faustino hesitated.

  “Will you do it, Faustino?” she spat as she said his name, “or do I have to send—”

  “As you wish,” he said before she could finish. He turned around and cast a glance at Jason and Elizabeth, who both promptly found something interesting to look at on the ground. With a sigh, he made his way to his master, gathered him up with his things, and then carried him out of the room.

  Winston stirred on the floor, and Ellie shot to the bars of her cage. “Gr—,” she stopped, catching herself. “Uh, Mr. Fith,” she said as he sat up and rubbed his head. “Are you okay?”

  “Elizabeth,” Mirella reached out with a weak hand. “Do you still have the shard?” Elizabeth nodded. “Then take Winston back to his holding cell at once.”

  “What about me?” Jason asked. “I want to help too.”

  “You stay here and ensure that the children don’t go anywhere. This is of the utmost importance, Jason. I can’t convey that strongly enough.”

  “After all this, you want me to just stay here and babysit?” Jason asked, unable to hide the sardonic tone to his voice. ”What about you?”

  Mirella sighed. “I must see to my husband. And for him to survive, I must prepare the skull.”

  15

  A Promise is a Promise

  “You sure know how to pick friends, Jason,” Ellie said once Mirella had left the room. “With all the killing that seems to go on around here, you’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Shut it, will ya?” Jason snapped. He kicked over a pile of boxes by the door, and then sat down on a nearby chair. “Let’s just sit tight for a while until the others come back. I don’t understand why they want to keep you kids around anyway.”

  “Since when are you okay hanging out with a bunch of murderers?” Marcus asked then sighed. “What happened to you? You seemed so nice the night of the talent show.”

  “I was,” Jason said, staring at a wall a moment before continuing, “until I came to this place.”

  “What do you mean?” Ellie asked, pulling herself up on her knees and pressing her face against the bars with bated breath. “What did this place do to you?”

  Jason didn’t say anything but began to pace. He adjusted something in the room every now again, and kicked a box a little bit.

  Marcus watched him wander aimlessly until a thought popped into his head. “You wanted to be like them, didn’t you?”

  Jason stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he sighed, and then shook his head, “I’ve always loved magic,” he paused, “uh, stage magic, that is. That contest was my ticket to a crowd-pleasing career.”

  “I don’t get it,” Ellie said. “You participated in the magic show to win a place at The Magic Box, and you’re here now, working with the Great Faustino Forsyth. What’s not to—”

  Marcus’s eyes widened with understanding. “He was runner-up,” Marcus said, shifting in his cell. “Remember? Elizabeth won the contest.”

  “That’s debatable,” Jason said sharply. “She beat me by one judge’s score.”

  “What’s so questionable about that?” Marcus asked.

  “One of the judges was her father,” Jason said as he folded his arms. “Pretty questionable, huh? When I complained that the scores were rigged, they said they didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention, and that they’d take me on as co-apprentice.”

  “And from what I’ve seen, this apprenticeship isn’t what you thought it would be. They give all the exciting jobs to Elizabeth.”

  Ellie looked confused. “I don’t get it. If it’s so bad, why don’t you just leave?”

  “Look, I shouldn’t be talking to you guys about this, okay?” he said. “Just shut—”

  Marcus’s eyes widened. “Because they won’t let him leave. It’s the only explanation. He knows too much, and they won’t let him go.”

  “You don’t know what you are talking about, not one bit. If you had seen half of the stuff that I—”

  “That was kind of my point,” Marcus said.

  “What have you seen?” Ellie asked. “Maybe we can relate.”

  Jason leaned against a stack of boxes and considered her for a moment. “What’s the point?” he asked, raising a hand. “It’s not like you two can help me. I already know what you’ve seen, and it wouldn’t help me at all.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a mess. “I knew you recognized us when we took the old man. You even called out Elizabeth’s name. And, while we’re opening up, why do you care so much about this place, anyway?”

  “That was you?” Ellie said through gritted teeth. “You sick… lunatic. How can you kidnap a helpless old man who has never done you any harm?”

  “Didn’t you hear Sol? The old man is not as innocent as you think he is.”

  “Really? What does that even mean? And, isn’t this is the same Sol you just said that you were trying to get away from?”

  Marcus felt the tension in the room starting to rise. He wanted to flatten Jason just as much as the next person, but Marcus needed him to sympathize with them, not turn on them. Without his help they would never get out of there in one piece.

  “Look,” Marcus said after clearing his throat, “we need each other to get out of here, Jason. If you keep us in here, we won’t be able to help you escape.”

  Chuckling, Jason plopped down on the chair and sighed. “You’re in no position to help me escape. I thought we covered that.”

  “I’ve still got this,” Marcus said, cracking a smile as he held u
p his brim, “and this puts us in a better-than-average position to help you escape.” Marcus hoped that Jason’s understanding of the brim was at least as limited as his was.

  On what seemed like instinct, Jason stepped back, and then he paused. “Wait, you can’t do anything with that, you were just drained.”

  Marcus’s smirk fell from his face. He hadn’t considered that before but he knew that Jason was right. He had been drained of his magic, and the only thing he knew how to do with the brim was drain magic. Now the crystal sphere was virtually worthless.

  “Not so fast.” Ellie reached into her pocket and pulled out the small vial she had received at The Magic Box event earlier that day. She wiggled the vile between two fingers in a sassy sort of way. “I have this.”

  “Where did you get that?” Jason asked, taking another step back. “You shouldn’t have that.”

  “Mirella gave it to me. And I’ll use it if I have to.”

  Jason seemed to consider her for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or not. Still, he became very calculating, very quickly.

  “If I were to let you out they would kill me for sure,” Jason said. “You heard Mirella; she said it was extremely important that you don’t go anywhere.”

  “She’s mistaken, Jason,” Marcus said. “They don’t want to keep us around. They want to kill us. You saw Sol. He tried to kill me. I’m lucky to be alive.”

  Jason considered this and furrowed his brow. “How do I know you won’t turn on me? How do I know you will keep your word and help me escape?”

  “We swear it on our parents’ graves.” Marcus regretted saying it almost as quickly as Ellie could give him the nasty look that she did.

  Jason put his hands in his pockets and stood still. “Your parents are dead?” he asked. Marcus and Ellie nodded.

  Jason shook his head. “On your parents’ graves, then,” he said as he retrieved the cage key from the top of an old crate and walked over to Marcus’s cage, bending down on one knee.

  “Say it into the crystal,” Jason said, his tone becoming serious.

  Marcus glanced at Ellie, who returned a confused look as he raised the brim, now the only thing between his face and Jason’s besides the bars of the cage, and said, “We swear on our parents’ graves that we will help Jason escape from The Magic Box.”

  As Marcus was finishing his sentence, Jason stuck his hand between the bars and grasped both the brim and Marcus’s hand in his own, and then continued, “Else the living die, or the dead live again to haunt and torment the oath breakers.”

  As Jason removed his hand, Marcus felt like their hands had been superglued together and then ripped apart. “Ow,” he began, but stopped as a purple strand of energy left Jason’s hand and wrapped around Marcus’s wrist, only to disappear into his brim a moment later. Marcus stared in distress as the single wisp of purple light darted around in his crystal, looking hungry and violent.

  “Now then,” Jason said, getting back to his feet, “let’s get out of here.”

  “What did you do?” Marcus asked, still staring at the active magic that had invaded his brim.

  “If you keep your promise, you will never have to find out.”

  “Where did you learn that?” Ellie asked. “That was no card trick.”

  “I’ve learned a thing or two since being here. Let’s just say that this magic will bind us to what we agreed to. I needed some insurance that you wouldn’t double cross me.”

  “But our parents are dead,” Ellie said. “What could you possibly do to them?”

  “How am I supposed to know if you were lying?” Jason unlocked each of their cages. “So I made sure my wording covered the living and the dead.”

  Ellie and Marcus got to their feet and stretched out. Marcus put away the brim and Ellie put away the vial. “That whole dead thing was kind of strange, man,” Marcus said. “I mean, those were our parents you were talking about, but thanks for letting us out.”

  “Hey,” Jason said, “I’m not doing you any favors, remember? You’re the ones doing me a favor. Don’t forget that or things are going to get a whole lot weirder.”

  16

  Reservation

  The attractive woman entered the shop and was grateful to finally get out of the dry heat. She waved a hand in front of her when she encountered the thick smell of cigarette smoke. The old, wooden walls were adorned with Native American trinkets and keepsakes, and the shelves were laden with pottery and t-shirts. This place looks like a long shot for bones, she thought, but I have to try. This was the last shop on her list.

  She passed jewelry made of copper and silver. The stones they inlaid in their trinkets and charms were typically turquoise, or amber, like the color of her hair. She nearly tried on a bracelet but was determined to stay focused; she had no time for such luxuries. She made her way to the back corner of the shop, where a pile of cattle skulls caught her attention.

  “Shirts on sale,” an old woman said in a deep, heavily accented voice. She was clearly Native American and sat behind the only register in the shop, weaving something along a large plank that ran along most of the wall. “Hand-made rugs, too,” she added.

  The attractive woman tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and acknowledged the Native American with a nod as she continued to the back corner of the shop. She picked up one of the skulls and examined it. There were curious markings on the horns and down the bridge of the nose, but she wouldn’t fall for the local tribe’s attempt at pushing their mystique. This wasn’t what she was looking for.

  Not quite.

  The woman cleared her throat. “Excuse me, please,” she said, walking back to the register, “but, uh, may I see your other items?”

  The old woman’s eyes narrowed. “These not good enough?” She waved a hand across the store. “These are all. No more items.”

  “I don’t think you understand,” the young woman said extracting a folded piece of paper from her white blouse. With her other hand she removed a piece licorice from her suit coat pocket and took a bite. She managed to unfold the paper with one hand while she continued to work on her treat. “Is…” She stole a glance at the paper, “Is Alo here? May I speak with him?”

  “What do you know of Alo?”

  “I know Alo has other,” she thought a moment as to how best word it, “items for sale—special things for the right buyers.”

  “There is no Alo here,” the old woman said. “There—”

  The young woman heard a creaking behind her, and she whirled around as a portion of the ceiling opened up and folded to one side. A rope ladder fell from the hole, followed by a deep voice.

  “I am Alo,” he said. “They told me you were coming. Come. There is much to discuss.”

  The young woman followed Alo without looking back. She hiked up her suit pants as she stepped up the ladder and ascended to the top. As she climbed up, she took Alo’s outstretched hand and he lifted her into the attic.

  Incense burned somewhere in the circular room. She smelled it. Unique items hung on the walls and decorated the shelves; all backed by a beautiful orange light. She knew instinctively that each of these rooms were unique in their own way, yet they all had a magic energy necessary to contain and stabilize so many special items in one place. The warm ambiance this room created fit the setting well. Here she was at a Hopi Indian reservation, not too far from Four Corners, the magical place in the heart of the desert where the corners of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona touched; and she was relying on the extra magic.

  “I believe I have what you are looking for,” said Alo as he returned the trap door to its rightful place with a thud. He wandered off to another part of the room and sat on a circular bench that followed the shape of the room. The woman was reminded of some saunas she had used many years ago, or maybe a wooden locker room.

  She looked around at the curious items on display; tribal uniforms, spears and axes, various skins, and medicine bags, but no animal bones. It was alway
s interesting to her what the guardians reclaimed and kept in their collections.

  “Here we are,” Alo said, resurfacing a moment later. “Please handle this with care.” He handed her an ancient bow and a single arrow. The arrowhead was made entirely of turquoise, and the feathers were as fiery orange as the color of the glow in the room. The bow itself was made of what looked like an orange bamboo—flexible, but extremely strong. She had never seen its equal.

  “This is amazing, but I’m afraid it’s not exactly what I am looking for.”

  “But they told me that you were—”

  “I am looking for an animal skull with healing properties,” she said. “Not a bow and arrow, no matter how magnificent they may be. Do you have such a skull?”

  “No. These animals are our brothers, and we look to them for guidance. It is rare that they will give themselves to us for our own purposes, especially the animal you speak of.”

  “You know the animal?”

  “Yes, the Phoenix. We know it well here in Arizona.”

  “Do you know of no one with this skull?” she asked. “My husband—he’s dying.”

  I have only known of one in all of my many years.”

  “Where is it now?’

  “I sold it recently for a good piece of coin.” Alo rubbed his fingers along the feathers of the arrow. “to an old friend in Las Vegas. He needed it as badly as you. I don’t think you will have much luck with him.”

  She nearly gasped. “In Vegas?” she tried to keep her composure. “You said that you had only seen one skull. How did you happen upon it?”

  “I killed it,” Alo said thoughtfully, “with this.” He held up the bow and arrow. “This is the only weapon known to man that can slay a Phoenix.”

  “How did you find it; the bird, I mean?”