Underground Magic

by N. R. Larry

  I barely heard him or the screech of the tires as the vehicle tore through the Birmingham night. No, I was too busy allowing myself to cook in my hate so that it could make me stronger. Then I replayed everything Aubrey had said that led me here.

  My book of shadows was open on the bed. She said it was for a protection spell, but it wasn’t for that. Not at all. It was to weaken the magical barriers, something only I or the book could do.

  No one even knew about it, apart from Aubrey. I never would have believed…

  And all that going on about my mother. Just the memory of her speaking of her made my skin tingle with rage. I sat there with that memory until the truck came to a stop and Alpha yanked me off the bench and told me to step down.

  Then we were walking uphill on what felt like a gravel path. Bright lights beat through the sack on my head. Slowly, I felt the presence of other people in front of me, and then almost all around me. Footsteps padded toward me. Alpha jerked me to a stop.

  “Sir,” a gruff, male voice said.

  “Any sign of them?” Alpha asked.

  “No, sir. Perimeter is clear.”

  There was a tense silence. “Are you certain?” Alpha asked in a deliberate tone.

  No one said anything. I assumed whoever he was addressing had nodded.

  “Fine, fine. Make sure it stays that way. We can afford no interruptions tonight.”

  I was jerked forward slightly as Alpha whispered something to whoever he was talking to. I caught the words, “him,” and “immediately,” and something about not harming him. Then I was being dragged again. Faster this time. More urgency in the movement.

  Up a long flight of stairs we went before stopping again. This time, Alpha addressed a female. I didn’t pay attention to the words they exchanged. I was too busy feeling out all the energies around me. I knew Alpha was a shifter, and now I felt how strong he truly was.

  Power rolled off him in warm waves. There were more subtle, weaker energies around him. Witches. Weaker ones. Under my hood, a smile twisted my lips as I planned how to best make them sorry for turning on their own kind.

  Alpha started to lead me again, this time down a drafty hall that my bare feet slid over. Marble, or something similar. Then my toes dug into soft carpet. Scents were all around. Lilac. Rose hips. The heady scent of sandalwood.

  I was jerked to a stop again. Alpha muttered something. A voice from far away, like over an intercom responded. There was a crackle, and then a loud knock. A series of beeps, and then the rush of chilled air into my face. I shivered and was then thrown forward.

  I landed in a heap on a hard, cold floor.

  The sack was ripped from my head.

  Light rushed at me. It was so bright, I tried to blink it out. A door whooshed closed. I sat upright and darted my gaze around. White, glaring walls met my vision in all directions. Slowly, the lights started to dim down, and a black screen replaced the wall right in front of me.

  I stared at it in confusion, when a door opened in the middle of the screen and a figure stepped through. I squinted, trying to make out who it was.

  My heart shot off when I realized it was him.

  I was in the Mayor’s home.

  * * *

  His shoes clacked as he sauntered over to me, a calm, almost triumphant expression on his face. I expected to be overcome with rage, out of control from it, but I was as calm as a green sky before a tornado hits. He stopped right in front of me, his pale blue, almost gray eyes scanning me up and down for a moment. Without saying a word, he reached into the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a long, silver key.

  He uncuffed me and stepped back.

  I stared at him, taking in his tailored, white suit and his thick, curly blonde hair. I knew he was at least in his fifties, yet he looked no more than thirty, with broad shoulders and a full mouth.

  I flexed my hands and lifted an eyebrow. “Why would you do that?”

  He smiled and took a phone out of his pocket. It took me a while to even realize what it was, having been so long since I’d seen or used one. Turning away from me, he spoke to whoever was at the other end in a low voice. When he was finished, he turned as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. I stared at him as he cupped his hands behind his back, and turned in a circle, examining the room as if it were foreign to him.

  For several minutes, there was just silence and him looking at the walls like he was at an art gallery. Finally, a knock came at the door.

  The mayor went over to the door and opened it. Inside swept a petite, black girl with short, curly hair, and a plain white uniform on. She stood to the side while two men brought in a table, and then she started setting a plate of fruits and cheeses up. When she was done, the mayor gestured toward one of the two chairs.

  Lifting an eyebrow, I sat down. He sat across from me, poured two glasses of wine the color of blood, and sat back in his chair. By this time, we were alone.

  “This is better.” His voice was as smooth as the whiskey my mother used to drink after a long day when he finally spoke. He picked up his wine and swirled it like a yuppie in a wine tasting documentary. Reaching across the table, he offered his hand, “Eugene Wallace. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I squinted at his hand. “I know who you are.”

  He sat back with a smile, unaffected by my refusal to shake his hand. He finally took a sip of wine, and then nodded toward my glass. “Please. This is from my private collection.”

  I almost laughed. “I don’t drink.”

  He set his glass down and gestured to the plate between us. “Do you eat?” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

  I flicked my gaze toward the food, and back up, ignoring the sudden twist in my stomach. Slowly, I shook my head.

  He smiled. “I pegged you for a difficult nut.” He popped a cheese cube into his mouth and chewed slowly, regarding me.

  My patience was being pulled tight. I pressed my lips together and said, “What do you want from me?”

  He brushed his hands off. “Did you know that Birmingham is the city the whole nation models itself after when it comes to purity politics?”

  I narrowed my eyes. I did know that. Everyone did.

  “It’s because we are the most efficient. We’ve got things so under control that we can afford to hire a few magical types to strengthen the party, rather than try to dismantle it.” He paused for another sip of wine. “There has always been a flaw in the vision I’ve created here. A blemish people all over the nation call the Underground.” For the first time, a hint of annoyance crossed his face. It was in the way his features pinched. It only lasted a second, but for some reason, it was nice to see. Bad guys, after all, should look like bad guys.

  “Witches disappearing in the night. Trucks blown up. All at the hands of a group we weren’t even sure existed. I’ve told the people it was a myth, that you were a myth. It was a better narrative, that is, until now.” He picked up a grape and skinned it with his thumbnail. Before popping it into his mouth, he added, “Tonight, the country, heck, the world, will hear a much better narrative. Thanks to your little friend Aubrey.”

  Just hearing her name pushed some of the rage back into my system. Something on my face must have shown that, because he smiled.

  “That must sting a bit.” He laughed. “You know, had Aubrey gone along with the new politics, she would have had something like a 93 percent purity rating.” He shook his head. “At least she’s seen the light. She’ll still have to be punished, but she’ll become a part of this great moment in history.”

  My nostrils flared. “Will you get to the point?”

  He considered me for a long period of time and then clapped. “What I want is for you, Lawrence, to play a part. I’m here, tonight, to crack the nut, so to speak.”

  Before I could ask what the hell he was talking about, he pulled a rolled up paper from inside his coat pocket and slid it across the table. I stared at it and glance
d back up as he took another sip of his wine.

  “Go ahead.”

  Hesitating for a second, I snatched up the paper, unfolded and read. When I came to the end, I started to laugh. Not just a chuckle, but a rolling-on-the-floor laugh that brought tears to my eyes. When I was almost under control, I balled the paper back up and tossed it at him.

  He didn’t even blink.

  “If you think I’m reading that crap, you’re out of your mind.”

  He smiled and then pointed at the walls of the room. “You know all the special security announcements that go out across the city?” He stood, placed his hands out, and turned in a slow circle. “They’re all taped in this room.” He grinned. “Most people know that. What they don’t know is what else I control from this room.” He produced a remote and clicked a button.

  Slowly, the white walls were replaced with thin panels lined in silver. Monitors. He clicked another button and slowly, images flickered across every screen in the room.

  For a moment, all I could make out was individual body parts. A hand. A leg. Three toes of one foot. Then I realized they were people. Thousands of them, naked and pressed together like the layers of a sandwich. I stood up, almost drawn by terror, to one of the monitors.

  They were in a room, so cramped that they had to pile on top of each other. There was no audio, but I swore I could hear the screams on their faces. Not only were they piled on top of each other, they were naked.

  “Would you like to see a trick, Miss Kincaid?”

  I turned around to find him smiling. Smiling like we were at the theater together. The combination of the almost childlike smile on his face and being surrounded by the images of thousands of suffering people made my insides go cold.

  He pressed a button, and I wanted to stop him, but I was rooted in place. I whirled around to stare back at the monitor.

  Panic.

  A greenish gas was filling the room. Just like that, thousands of people were trying to escape, only there was nowhere to escape to. People climbed on top of each other, crushing bodies underneath them, trying to get away from the gas.

  Behind me, Eugene laughed. It wasn’t a cruel laugh. It was light as air. That made it even worse. “It won’t hurt them. Would you like to see more?”

  I didn’t answer. I stared into all those twisted, horrified faces. A big bear of a man stepped over a child, trying to get to the air vents set high into the ceiling.

  “No.” I banged my fist against the glass. “Stop this!” When I turned back around, Eugene had pulled out a microphone.

  “As the lady wishes.” He pressed a button on the side of the microphone and said, “Stop.”

  Everyone on the monitor went instantly still. It was almost as hard to watch, those scared masks frozen in fear.

  “Line up,” Eugene said in his low, smooth voice.

  They did, like puppets attached to string.

  “Now for the prestige.”

  There was a crackle. “Bring in the gas cans and matches.”

  I turned around at his words.

  He wore the face of a child on Christmas morning. “Don’t look away, Miss Kincaid. This is the best part.”

  I refused to turn around. In that moment, a flash of anger crossed his face. He stormed toward me, grabbed me by the arm, and jerked me around. I tried to pull my arm away from him, and he tightened his grip.

  “You will watch, Miss Kincaid. And if you don’t, your little friend will pay the price.” He produced a tablet from his pocket and showed me a room with a pacing figure.

  A bundle of dread fell into my stomach.

  “Ty-Von.” I narrowed my eyes and resisted the urge to pull my arm away again.

  “Yes, so any magic or difficulty out of you, and I make my wife a panther skin.”

  I gritted my teeth. “At least now you sound like the evil shit you are.”

  He struck me across the face. I didn’t even see him move. With a gasp, I grabbed the warm spot on my cheek and blinked at him.

  “My goodness, I’m sorry.” He straightened his coat and tucked his tablet away. “Now please, I went through a lot of trouble to put this together for you.”

  I dropped my hand and panted. As he nodded his head toward the screen, I saw him. Really saw him. He was a bomb seconds from going off.

  With dread in my heart, I turned back to the monitor.

  “Very good. Now…” There was another crackle. “Pick up the gas cans.”

  It was the cruelest game of Simon Says I’d ever witnessed.

  “Pour it over yourselves,” he commanded.

  With blank faces, they dumped the gas over their heads.

  My gaze flickered to the matches still at their feet. I knew where this was going.

  “Now,” Eugene began.

  “Stop!” I said, closing my eyes.

  Silence.

  I felt tears form at the back of my eyes, but I was too beaten up to build the energy to let them fall. “I’ll do what you ask.”

  “Ah, wonderful.” He laughed, and then went back to the table, motioning for me to join him.

  On wooden legs, I sat across from him, the horrible images of his human puppets still on the monitors.

  “Aubrey knew about this, you know,” he said lightly, taking a drink of his wine. “She was given the option to betray you, or see the death policy reinstituted in the camps.” He smiled. “So, you probably should be more upset with us, than her.”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

  He shrugged. “Why beat a tame horse?” He sat his glass down. “No, she was loyal. Unlike my wife.” He laughed and pulled out a bundle of bloody, blonde hair. The anger once again took charge of his features. “Can you imagine, living under the same roof as a race traitor? They’re worse than all of you devil-fucking whores.”

  My eyes widened. “Is she—”

  “Dead?” He smiled, the pleasant mask back on his face. “No. No, that would be too easy. And it serves me no purpose. Your death, however.” His smile was crazed, almost manic. “Well, your death will make sure a certain type of people control this country forever, and eventually, the rest of the world.” He lifted his wine glass. “Let’s get you ready for lasting fame, shall we?”

  * * *

  It was over before it even started. The lights splashed into my face, forcing me to shield my eyes with my hand. I stood in the center of the room. It was over because I had waited too long to fight.

  The camera was rolling. I stared past it, into Eugene’s face. He was a literary figure that actually caught his white whale.

  My mouth opened. It was dry, unable to form any words.

  I knew as soon as I was done saying everything he wanted me to say, it would be over for all of us. I was killing the will of everyone that held on to the Underground like a life raft of hope.

  I was killing the potential for revolution.

  Behind the camera and blinding light, Eugene licked his bottom lip. “Take your time, Miss Kincaid.”

  He was in no hurry. When the game was rigged in your favor, all you had to do was sit back and enjoy the gameplay.

  I opened my mouth again, and a small croak came out.

  Eugene snapped his fingers. “Lola. Get Miss Kincaid some water.”

  The same girl who’d put the cheese on the table earlier scurried in and handed me a glass. I downed it in one gulp, and then handed it back.

  “Don’t do this,” she whispered to me.

  I turned my gaze to her, eyes wide. I started to ask her what, but I knew she wasn’t supposed to speak.

  Her gaze was on the floor.

  “If you do, you’re killing us for generations.”

  Before I could register what she had said, she scurried off without looking back. Her words swelled inside of my head, freezing time. I wiped my mouth and looked into the camera again.

  Even my magic felt like dead weight inside of me.
No need to worry about losing control.

  Killing us for generations.

  At the back of my thoughts, the silent screams of the people in the gas chambers weighed me down.

  This was too much.

  It was always too much.

  “My name—” A shock rocked my body. Those two simple words hurt leaving my lips. But I had to speak them. I had to lie down and die.

  “My name is Lawrence Kincaid, and I am the former leader of the Underground.”

  I needed to make sure you could die if necessary.

  I shook away Aubrey’s thoughts.

  “I am here tonight to tell you, I was wrong. I have been wrong. We all have been, but we can still look to Mayor Wallace and the Party to guide us.”

  At that moment, a pale blue butterfly landed on my shoulder. I froze. Something inside of me shifted, and then my mother’s words came to me. It was stronger than a memory, it was almost as if she were in that room with me, whispering into my ear.

  There will always be one person brave enough to stand, and the human heart will rise up with them.

  I closed my eyes, remembering her embrace. Her bravery.

  Every part of me knew this was the wrong move.

  Did I kill the revolution, or did I risk all those innocent lives?

  Butterfly wings kissed my cheek.

  I squared my shoulders, the decision made. The matches lit.

  “My name is Lawrence Kincaid, and I am the leader of the Underground.” I smiled into the camera. “For years, we have been unsafe. Hiding in the shadows, being made to do things unfit for animals, let alone humanity.”

  Eugene grunted. “Cut the live feed.”

  I swung my hand out and stilled him with my magic. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find he couldn’t. The magic stormed inside of me, on the edge of slipping, but still in my control.

  “I am here to tell you, those days are coming to an end.” I crept toward the camera, my hair blowing back behind me. “None of you at home in your cozy beds are safe. Your leaders aren’t safe. This country is no longer safe.” I tilted my head. “We will rise up and fight. We will burn your checkpoints to the ground. We will burn your death camps to the ground. You will not be able to turn a corner without wondering if you’re taking your last step. And if we die doing all of this…” I leaned in closer to the camera and narrowed my eyes. “You will die with us.”