by Rose, Rhea
George obliged.
“Astounding, Malcolm.” George’s eyes changed from furrowed to bright and delighted. Soon, everyone in the room sipped from their individual tumbler. They turned to each other and toasted, carefully clinking their glasses together. They seemed positively giddy and two men even intertwined arms, like a wedding couple to sip from their glasses.
Malcolm surveyed the scene with the eyes of a keen observer.
Ted’s head was the first to hit the table top, still attached to its shoulders. The man became unconscious without much drama. Next came George and no one even had time to comment on the unconscious states of their colleagues because each was at the threshold of his own loss of awareness and the next thing I knew, I was Alice in Wonderland at a table full of sleeping door mice. “What the eff,” I said, aloud, but if Malcolm heard me he wasn’t letting on, and I had the sense that this man rarely missed a trick, or an opportunity.
He certainly didn’t miss a beat.
He ran around the table and exchanged the poor quarterly rate sheets, pulling them from their folders with a snap, like they were mini table cloths and he performed a magic trick, then he replaced these with the new ones he’d prepared earlier, the ones that indicated a good quarterly profit. He spoke to each sleeping man at the table like they were colossal idiots. And maybe they were.
“Water's good, but your dreams are gonna be rotten!”
Look carefully, Maisie’s voice in my head said. I thought I was looking carefully. I watched every move Malcolm made. Not at Malcolm, you silly girl, at William! William? The skinny, youngish looking dude? He looked as unconscious as the rest of the heads-down dudes. Yes, he’s the man following you! He’s from the Cheshire society.
That got my attention.
I tried to move in closer, or zoom in closer, but when I tried to get close to William, he’d go out of focus. I squinted, but nothing helped. I saw him clearly only when I was a distance from him.
To tell the truth, I was glad to be disembodied. There was nothing to do about William except observe him.
I thought Maisie brought me here to see that Malcolm was a major; that was probably true too, two birds with one disembodiment.
I would have drunk from Malcolm’s water-well in a heartbeat, and I’d be having my own nightmare. And then I remembered that I was I having a nightmare back in Devon’s house, tied up on Devon’s bed. And with that memory my consciousness rushed back to Devon’s bedroom.
*
Apparently spells have a time limit, or the one’s I utter seem to. Devon lay in the fetal position, arms over his head, face buried, kicking spasmodically at non-existent snakes and occasionally scratching at his private parts.
Meanwhile, I was still tied to the bed. I yelled at him. “Devon! Snap out of it! The spell's worn off. The snakes are gone! Get me out of here.”
Devon peeked out from under his arms.
How'd you do that?”
“Do what? Tie you up or set you free? I don’t know.” While I talked and tried to keep him distracted, he got up from the floor and crept around his bed, cautious of snakes and wary of me.
The image of Devon cowering on the floor made me laugh and a fit of giggles overwhelmed me. “You were screaming like a little girl,” I said, and probably shouldn’t have because Devon went over to a big heavy dresser sitting in one corner and opened a drawer. He pulled out a long, white sock. He came back to me and gagged me with the sock.
“Laugh into this,” he said, like a petulant child.
“Devon, come on -- Argghaphimm –“Now, I couldn’t utter my spell! I heard Devon’s cell start singing Phantom of the Opera’s Music of the Night. The strange sounding ring came from his pocket.
He and I both stared there.
“Aghathitahg –“
He answered it.
“Busy!” he barked into the cell. It was Maisie. Her voice came through loud and clear. Devon had put his phone on speaker and she was very loud and clear.
“You got a lot a balls, demon,” she said.
“Glad you like them.”
Suddenly, Devon looked very uncomfortable.
“Wadja do, Maisie?” He had a look of terror on his face. Devon twitched like he’d been shot with a taser and rubbed fiercely at his crotch.
My eyes got very wide as I watched Devon do his little crotch hop all around the room. His hands were deep down the front of his pants and he was doing some serious scratching and groping.
“Maisie, aaaah, this won't work, you witch.” He spoke into his cell, which also seemed to be down the front of his pants. He pulled it out and looked like he was trying to check the time on his watch. Looking worried, he said, “Oh, oh,” then the lights went out on his cell and he quickly shoved it into a back pocket.
He looked at me, all vulnerable and tied to the bed. He wanted me, badly, the lust in eyes turned to tears and his agony became obvious when he squeezed his knees together to stop the itch, bent over, but not down and out. He still managed to squeak out a few words, “Jane, babeeek. I gotta go. Go make a deal. I'll be back. Don't go anywhere.”
He turned in circles like a dog chasing his tail, but in his case he tried to scratch without me seeing where his agony was. I yanked on the ties around my ankles. “Aggfrrga –“The effing bastard was going to leave me here for who knew how long!
*
What Devon did next, while I remained incapacitated on the bed is a report that came to me later on from Maisie, whom I found possessed a crystal scrying orb she’d collected from a previous major. That ex-major arcana character was able to buy her freedom from the cursed deck with the viewing orb. Note to self.
Maisie likes powerful trinkets.
Devon hurried across the town square, still itching as he headed back in the direction of Koldwell. He ran passed the bank. He looked for someone. The mess from Devon’s robbery and Emilia’s sword throwing was still evident on the street, police tape everywhere. But that didn’t stop him. He ducked under it, scanning the crowds.
*
The paramedics were removed the head and body of Emilia's victim, the dead smoker from the street corner. Devon happened to get there in time to see that the head they placed on the stretcher next to the body happened to be the very guy Devon had rushed downtown to meet. He recognized the head. He spoke to it. “Screw you, Sam. You're dead. Now who delivers the drugs?”
When Emi threw her sword earlier that day, Devon had witnessed the murder of his drug mule.
*
Devon’s itch kicked in more severely than ever. He stamped his feet and that seemed to give him some temporary relief. He straightened up and noticed Malcolm Press across the street climbing into his black Jag. He hurried over to Malcolm, toy gun in hand.
“Hey, magician, I need a ride across town.”
Malcolm stared down at Devon's concealed gun, unfazed. “Hop in.”
“You’re one of Maisie's tarot slaves,” Devon said, politely.
“How'd you know?” Malcolm asked.
“I work for that bitch.”
“I don’t anymore. I’m free. Right. Seat belt, please,” Malcolm said.
“For real?”
“For real.”
“Effing, crazy bastard.” Devon’s itchy writhing started up again. He kept hitting the automatic locks which made them click on and off.
“You trying to get comfortable?” Malcolm asked.
Devon, concerned with relieving his itch, ignored Malcolm as he reached over and slid the gun down between the seats.
“That effin' witch Maisie gave me itchy balls.” Malcolm remained quiet on the matter, started the car and drove out of the lot. He stared at the writhing Devon. His eyes got a lot wider as he realized who exactly was in the car next to him
“What you staring at? Take a picture. It lasts longer. Ooooh,” Devon said, but pressed hard on his crotch.
“You need a doctor?” Malcolm asked, coolly.
“Screw that. She cursed me or something.
”
“Someone probably gave you herpes.”
“Oh, I effing wish,” Devon choked out.
“Was she worth it?” Malcolm was careful to drive the speed limit through town, although every cop in the place was still occupied with the shoot-em-up at the bank.
“Effin’ Maisie did this with magic, idiot.” Devon was curled up in the fetal position with his seat belt on.
Malcolm was quiet for a moment as he took in the situation. “I can help.”
“ Ooooh, f#%k.”
Malcolm reached over the seats into the back of the car and pulled his brief case into the front seat. He clicked it open with one hand and pulled out his magician's robe. “Trust me on this one. Slide under the robe and take your pants off.”
“Effing, no way!”
“If it doesn't work you can have my car. If it does, then let’s make me a deal.”
Devon gave Malcolm an "are-you-for-real?" look.
Then the itch really bit into him. He had it all over. He slid out of his jeans quicker than a stepped on banana pops out of its skin. He pulled Devon’s robe across his lap then pulled his tightie-whities out from under the robe and threw them out the window.
“Jeez. You're gonna want your undies when you put your jeans back on,” Malcolm said.
“Oh, feels so good.” Devon's face changed from agony to relief. “F#%k. Feels sooo sooo much better.”
Malcolm looked at Devon and pointed at his jeans. He wanted Devon to put his clothes back on. “What's my deal? Malcolm asked like he was on a TV game show.
“What the eff? Do you know who I am?” Devon asked back as he settled comfortably into the passenger seat.
“Yes.”
“Still want a deal?
“I'm a business man.”
Devon snickered. “You’re a magician. Screw it. You gotta give me your soul. You willing?”
Malcolm smiled, but looked unsure about what he might be getting into. “Well, I’d rather give it to you than Maisie. Steady rise in profits makes it worth my while.”
“Okie dokie. You got a deal. You’re my first.”
“A virgin, eh?” Malcolm said.
Devon choked out a laugh.
“I won’t be the last soul you collect, I’m sure,” Malcolm said.
Devon pulled at the magician’s robe trying to gather it back together, but it seemed have to become as large and silky as an unraveled parachute and threatened to take over the front seat of the car, a real menace. If Devon was trying to hand him back the magician’s robe in a nice neat bundle that wasn’t about to happen, but Malcolm refused to touch the robe. “Keep it,” he said. “I’ve got more where that came from.”
*
Meanwhile, I still struggled to free myself from the ties on Devon’s bed. I had to pee and if it weren’t for the fact that I’d have to lie in it, I’d pee right here, on the bed. But the full bladder was a big motivator. I pulled with all my pent up strength at the ties on my wrists but it was useless. I then had the uncontrollable urge to put things in order to line up the rope around each wrist, so that they were exactly parallel to each other, same with the ropes around my ankles. I still had this stupid sock in my mouth.
I got that feeling -- a huge sneeze rising from deep down inside of me. I made minute shifts and adjustments to my body position on top of the bed. I tried to create a kind of picture, a story of sorts, that had me envisioning myself getting up off this bed, then I chewed my lip until I felt what I can only describe as a body stutter, almost a sneeze but more of a nasal raspberry. When all reached a perfect alignment my nose twitched and a small but intense force blasted out of me like a stifled ahchoo. I sneezed into the sock. I muffled the words. “Sanctum safe, rank ‘em in place, quarter moon shine bright, can’t hold me, set me free, can’t hold me, can’t hold me. Set me free.” And one of the ropes around my ankle untied itself.
I was elated, overjoyed and very surprised.
I couldn’t do much with a free ankle, but at least it was something and if Devon came back, I’d kick him anywhere I made contact I worried about Sia, but I figured my beer drinking buddy Glendie would check on her and give her some food, if somehow Sia got away from Maisie, otherwise Sia would be out there terrifying the neighborhood, hunting for food. If she was even out there at all.
I used my freed toes to try and loosen the other ankle tie, but that didn’t seem to be working. If only I hadn’t trimmed my toes nails, a long one might have set me free. I tried aligning things, once again, but I couldn’t get that gut feel. I tried the spell anyway but it didn’t work. While I struggled I heard the knob on the door being tested. Devon had locked the room before he left, but it sounded to me as if someone used a key.
“Uuufferrrhhellmmme.Who’s there? Help. Help me. Devon’s got me tied up in here!” But all that muffled yelling was useless because I still had the sock in my mouth. Then the door opened and I didn’t know who the hell the guy was standing there. It was too dark to see.
“Uhhhmmmbbffffmmm. Uh, I’m busy at the moment. Come back later,” I tried to say, thinking this was one of Devon’s street friends looking for a place to crash.
“Deliciously delighted to find you still tied to the bed,” said the mysterious man.
“UUooaaallphrg.Who the hell are you?” I asked, as politely as I could, knowing he didn’t understand a word. He stepped out of the shadows and came towards me.
It took a minute to recognize this dude. Malcolm Price the magician! The man my disembodied mind had observed changing the quarterly earnings at the bank.
“Fffrghabblrgh. If you’re here to rescue me, let’s get on with it.” He didn’t say anything but stood there like a vampire in his business suit. Then he sat down of the edge of the bed, and I lifted my free leg to kick him away, but he caught it like a short stop on a pop fly. Then he lovingly stroked my leg and worked his soft magician hands up my inner thigh. I pulled my leg away and stomped my heel a few times into the bed. That only stirred up a huge cloud of dust.
“Aaaghafaa –“
He ran his hand up my hip and stopped at my belly to make small circles around my belly button. He lifted my top and kissed my belly piercing. This guy was a lot smoother than Devon. Really, at another and place and time this might have been fun. Malcolm wiggled his fingers, showed me the back of his hand and voila, he turned his palm to me to see that he had my panties balled up there in the palm of his hand. He was having some fun with me. I’ve never dated a magician. It might be interesting. Then he leaned down close to my sock stuffed mouth and spoke.
“What's that? How did I know you were here? Devon, of course. We made a deal and you're part of it.”
Devon! I knew this was no rescue party.
Then it was Malcolm’s turn to recognize me.
“Oh, you're her, from the curio shop, the woman who set me free from the deck, my emancipator. It's not right to--play with you, I think.”
I agreed whole heartedly and nodded profusely to let him know, and of course I tried to speak.
“Argghaph –“
“I should free you, as you did me. Then we'll be even. No debts between us.”
Once again, I nodded profusely, but Malcolm wasn’t done.
“I have a confession to make,” he said. I rolled my eyes to try to let him know I wasn’t too interested, but he continued, even under protest.
Arnofonoph --
“I sold my soul to Devon. Now I've got seller's remorse.”
He looked genuinely despondent, but I didn’t trust him. This was another trick. He pulled the sock from my mouth and tucked it up his sleeve like a hankie from a magic trick.
With drool running down my chin, I came out spitting!
“You idiot! Maisie owns your soul. You can't sell it to that bigger idiot.”
Malcolm looked genuinely relieved.
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. Now untie me.” I nodded hard to try and emphasize the fact that he didn’t have anything to worry about
from Devon, at least not in the soul department. Then Malcolm looked like he was not so sure that what I told him was the case.
“Untie you?” he asked.
“Yes! Untie me.”
“Make me a better offer.”
“Then what?” I practically yelled.
“Then Devon.”
I had no idea what these two had cooked up. Now I had to make a better offer then Devon’s!
“Ohmygod. Look, I'll date you for awhile. We can get to know each other, you know, like a real couple. That’s my offer.”
Malcolm actually thought about this for a moment and even more surprising --
“Sounds good,” he said. He’d accepted my offer.
“The ropes, please.”
“That your best offer?” he countered.
I held back my exploding annoyance and frustration with the situation and said, “That's it. All I got at the moment.”
Malcolm paused and stared hungrily at my crotch.
“Alright,” I said, “I've got a few kinky things back at my place, too. We can play with those.”
That seemed to do the trick. Malcolm gave me a sly grin. He untied the ropes at my wrists and ankles carefully lining up the small bits of rope on the bed. He ran the loosened ties through his hands and between his fingers, and I felt my old shuttering surge building inside me. I wanted to desperately to chew my lip, but I knew if I did that I be releasing some kind of power for which I had no idea of the consequences, yet Malcolm’s need to organize and tidy that twine made my energy rise. Suddenly, the four pieces became one long strand in his hand. He folded the rope neatly and put it in his briefcase.
I felt my need to sneeze ease up. But my need to pee did not.
I pretended not to notice what Malcolm was doing and rubbed my wrists. They really needed some healing because that twine had rubbed them raw. Malcolm opened his brief case to get a business card with his number. I saw his magician’s cape all crammed inside. “Here's my card.” I took his offered card. I half expected it to disappear before I got my hands on it. Then I remembered Devon’s backpack with my purse inside of it and the fact that I really had to pee.
