The Magic Shop Read online

  “There’s nothing out there,” she said, furrowing her brow, then biting her lip.

  “So let’s go then,” Ellie said, pushing her way forward. Anabell held her back with a stiff arm.

  “Shh,” she said with a wave of her hand, peeking out again through the cracked door.

  “What’s wrong?” Ellie asked.

  “It quiet,” Anabell said, “too quiet.”

  “It’s a mental hospital,” Marcus said. “It’s not like it’s a carnival or something.”

  Anabell ignored him, and slowly opened the door. She took one cautious step at a time. Marcus thought she looked like a burglar sneaking about, but he and Ellie followed anyway.

  The dark hallway was empty. The only motion Marcus saw was the flickering of the overhead lights. The strobe effect reminded Marcus that he didn’t feel well.

  Anabell didn’t walk down the middle of the hallway, but rather crept against the walls. Marcus thought her behavior was a little odd. After all, wasn’t she the one that was in such a hurry to get back to Caleb with the skull?

  They rounded a corner, and for the first time, Marcus recognized where they were. Across the dimly lit open space were several windows that beamed a few streams of light. Opposite the windows stood an old wooden table, and for the first time that Marcus could remember, it was empty.

  Anabell stood up straight.

  “Where’s Uncle Caleb?” Ellie asked.

  Again, Anabell didn’t answer, but she moved quickly into the common room and examined the table. Marcus and Ellie followed. He didn’t see any strange marks or signs of a struggle. Everything was as if no one had ever been there.

  Taking a deep breath, Anabell said, “They must have taken him somewhere,” and she opened her backpack, rummaging through it a moment before pulling out the ornate gold ball she had used to find the Phoenix in the forest.

  She held the device close to her lips, and whispered, “find Caleb Fith.”

  The carvings on the globe illuminated briefly, fading away a moment later. Then, new lettering appeared, replacing the other words, and Anabell held out her hand as the sphere began to float and the two rings began to spin as they had before. The intersection of the two rings met in a glow and indicated the way they should go.

  “So, that’s like an ancient GPS or something, isn’t it?” Marcus asked over his shoulder to Ellie. “Doesn’t it talk to you too?” His sister smirked dryly and then followed their aunt.

  She took them down another hall they hadn’t been through before. Anabell looked down at the device every few steps, as if she couldn’t believe what it was indicating. As they got closer, Anabell’s lips quivered.

  “Do you know where it’s taking us?” Ellie asked, a concerned look on her face.

  Anabell nodded as tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Where?” Marcus asked. Then he thought heard a murmur from somewhere down the hall.

  But she didn’t have to answer. They rounded another corner, and for the first time that night, encountered people. Marcus recognized most of them. They were the same people he had always seen at the hospital since he had visited there the first time as a young boy. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was different about them. A group of them gathered around a large glass window where they watched something.

  “Let us through,” Anabell said suddenly, pushing people aside.

  Then Marcus heard a voice he had heard his whole life, though never quite like this.

  “Anabell?” Charlotte called out, raising her voice over the crowd. There was something shrill and wild about it. A moment later she lanced her way through the crowd, and stood face to face with Anabell, her fists bunched up in balls.

  “What took you so long?” she snapped. Marcus thought her face looked screwed up and bitter.

  Anabell looked angry. “What—?”

  “He’s dead,” she said, “and you weren’t here for him. She began slapping Anabell’s chest and shoulders. “We needed the skull.”

  “What?”

  “That’s enough,” a shaky voice said from behind her. Winston surfaced from the crowd, and grabbed his wife by the shoulders and pulled her away. “Stop Charlotte, please.”

  Anabell dropped to her knees, clutching at her chest and gasping for air. She buried her face in her hands, and her backpack fell to the ground. The golden ball rolled out onto the floor, followed by a tumbling skull.

  Winston’s eyes opened wide, then he bent down quickly and picked up the skull. He raised his voice. “Do you still have that recipe handy, Pat?” he asked.

  Marcus scoured the crowd. He hadn’t seen the warden anywhere.

  “The soufflé?” Pat asked as she emerged from amongst the crowd a moment later, tapping the side of her head. “Committed to memory.”

  “Then we have to try,” Winston said as he pushed his way back to where Pat was.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte said, reaching a hand down to the sobbing Anabell. “It’s just… I’ve lost my son.”

  “And I’ve lost my husband,” she replied indignantly between sobs.

  Marcus grabbed Ellie’s hand and followed after their grandpa. They weaved in and out of the crowd until they worked their way to the glass room.

  The room was cold, the ambient light giving off a subtle blue color. Stainless steel cabinets and appliances lined the room, encircling several men and women, all dressed in long, white, hooded robes, standing around Caleb. He lay on what Marcus thought looked like an operating table, only there were no operating tools nearby—at least, not the kind Marcus had seen on television.

  Colored steam ascended from wooden bowls of thick, bubbling liquid. Around them were piles of leaves and herbs organized in order of color. Odd stones and other items lay on the table at the feet of the people in white robes.

  For the first time, Marcus saw peace in his uncle’s face. The pain had left him. The wear and tear of the world’s cares; that defeated hospital look he always wore on his face; and that last glare of terror he had given Marcus when he saw the picture of Sol—all gone. Though he was very sad, in a strange way Marcus felt happy for him. His uncle was finally free.

  Winston made his way to one side of Caleb, and Pat made her way to the other. He handed the skull to Pat and hesitated for a moment, considering the large piece of bone. She took it from him a moment later and turned to the table of oddities behind her.

  She dipped her finger into the bowl of what looked, at this point, like bubbling mud, and then she muttered words quietly for a few moments. Bowing his head, Winston began uttering the same things too. Then she removed her finger from the bowl and began to paint odd symbols on the bony beak of the once glorious bird that Marcus had seen with his own eyes.

  “What is she doing?” Ellie whispered.

  Marcus couldn’t resist. This time Marcus elbowed her, and told her to be quiet.

  A sizzling sound suddenly emanated from the skull, and Marcus gaped in amazement as the lettering that Pat had painted on to the skull eroded until finally, as if it were some kind of acid, the mud-like script bored its way through the skull, leaving holes where the symbols had been.

  Pat lifted up the skull and gave it a bit of a shake so that the remaining bone dust could fall out, then she nodded.

  One of the white-robed people carried over a golden platter that bore the same type of lettering Marcus had watched Pat write on the skull.

  Pat took a golden feather from the table and swept the powder that the bones had left behind into the platter that the server held out under the table. She took the platter and then placed it on the table.

  She picked up an orange stone from off the table, held it above the platter, and mumbled again.

  The color in the stone began to drain and concentrate at its base, revealing electric-like orange tendrils. A moment later a bolt of fiery energy leapt from the stone and ignited the bone powder on the platter into flames.

  Pat put her hand into the flames and winced, then she t
ook a handful of the substance and sprinkled it over Caleb’s body.

  As the substance made contact with his body, flames broke out, moving across his body. Caleb was on fire, and Marcus covered his mouth.

  Ellie turned her head, gasping. The smell was horrid.

  “Is it working?” Anabell asked as she rushed into the room. Grandma was close behind her.

  “Why didn’t you say you were going to do this?” Charlotte asked.

  “Children,” Winston said, his eyes narrowing, “turn your heads.”

  Ellie obeyed, but Marcus didn’t. They had been through so much for their uncle that he wanted to take this like a man.

  They waited for what seemed like an eternity, but the fire only worked its nature, not its magic. Caleb’s body burned black like char. After some time he was no longer recognizable as a human, but rather a pile of ash.

  “When is it supposed to start working?” Anabell asked, swallowing hard.

  “It’s too late,” Pat said, taking a deep breath. “His body should have absorbed the flames.”

  “What are you saying?” Winston asked, his eyes bouncing back and forth from Pat to the ashes where his son’s body had been.

  Pat, not meeting his incredulous stare, said, “It didn’t work, Winston. I’m so sorry.”

  24

  Nevada State

  The crowd began to murmur just as a loud bang rang out from somewhere down the hall. It was like an explosion, powerful enough to demand everyone’s attention.

  “What was that?” Pat asked, lowering her arms after her initial reaction caused her to raise them defensively.

  “Call Roger on the radio,” Ellie said, turning back to the group. “I’m sure he can tell us.” Marcus watched his sister retch as she saw the table where her uncle had been. She was going to be sick.

  “Roger’s not available,” Pat said. “He’s not like us, so when something like this happens, we kind of knock him out.” After the shocked looks the children gave her, she added sheepishly, “He’s never been the wiser for it.”

  “So who is on security detail, then?” Marcus asked.

  They heard another loud crash, this time followed by screams echoing throughout the hall. Then Marcus heard a voice he had hoped he would never hear again in his life.

  “Where are they?” a shrill voice that was now all-too-familiar to Marcus shrieked. “We know they’re here.”

  Marcus watched through the door as the crowd of wary patients parted in the hallway and hugged the walls. Winston ran to the door, and then leaned on the frame for support. Upon seeing the intruder, however, he stood a little taller and drew in a deep breath. He looked numb as he worked his way into the hall, walking as if he had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. Marcus followed him cautiously with Ellie, still wiping her eyes, in tow.

  As they entered the patient-lined hallway behind their grandpa, Marcus saw Mirella and Sol, as mad and healthy as ever, very much in contrast to when he saw them on the ground, clutching their chests as Marcus and the others escaped The Magic Box.

  “You know why we’re here, Winston,” Mirella said, breathing heavily. She held up a crystal vial and waved it at him mockingly. Red tendrils bounced against its walls, changing shapes and evolving dynamically. ”We’ve come for the children. The blood potion has finally matured, and, of course, it’s conclusive. No mistakes.” She threw the vial at Winston’s feet. It shattered, spraying clumpy, purple liquid on the ground. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  “How could you?” Sol asked, shaking his fist and raising his voice.

  “No,” Winston said blankly, shaking his head, his voice cracking. “Not now. Caleb just died. You won’t take what’s left of my family from me.”

  “Did you really just say that?” Mirella asked, exasperated.

  For a moment, Sol said nothing. He stared coldly into Winston’s eyes, and then said, “Caleb should have never meddled in my business, but that’s between us.”

  “Marcus. Ellie,” Mirella said, focusing on the children, her voice sweeter somehow, “that’s what they’ve called you, isn’t it? Come along with us, and we’ll explain away all the lies.”

  Ellie gasped. “Why would we go anywhere with you… murderers?”

  “There you have it,” Winston shouted, pointing a rigid finger back the way they came. “Now leave, at once.”

  “You are a crazy old coon, aren’t you? We’re not going anywhere without the children,” Sol said. “Not this time.”

  Without warning, Charlotte darted out from the crowd and dashed at the intruders, screaming, “No!”

  Sol lifted his cane and fired a red jet of magic at Charlotte, connecting with her torso. She fell backward immediately, as if she had slipped on something on the ground.

  “Grams,” Ellie cried, and she ran over and kneeled at her grandmother’s side, tears welling in her eyes.

  “What a front you had going, Winston,” Sol said as he advanced. “All this time we thought that there was just some other magic shop down the street that we were taking business from, that these were just some ordinary kids.”

  “What does the Dun-Bhar care about children?” Anabell asked, surfacing from the crowd. Tears streamed from her eyes, and down her cheeks. “Other than to steal their magic and leave them for dead? That’s all anyone is to you, a vessel, to be overtaken and consumed. You take and you kill. No one is safe around you.”

  Sol took another step forward, like he would lunge at her. But, unless Marcus was mistaken, he thought he saw a tear in his eye and a shadow pass over his face. “What did you tell them?”

  “Enough,” Winston said as he removed his brim. “This ends now.”

  Sol seemed to gain his composure at Winston’s threats. Any humanity that Marcus had seen in his face was swallowed up in the anger that surfaced. “Then that doesn’t make us too different, does it, Winston?” Sol asked.

  Then Marcus saw Mirella’s lips quiver, and then she burst out, “Give me back my children.”

  The room fell silent.

  “What?” Marcus asked, stunned.

  “Shut your mouth,” Winston said as he shot a bolt of energy at Sol that he deflected with a mere wave of his cane.

  “Of course, you never bothered telling them that, did you?” Sol asked spitefully. “What did you say when they asked you what happened to their parents, some stupid cliché, like a car crash? Or did you put a little more creativity into your story?”

  “Did you even tell them about us?” Mirella asked, swallowing hard.

  “Liar,” Ellie screamed, her eyes pleading for an explanation. “Grandpa, tell them it’s not true. Please tell them.”

  The kids’ grandfather wore a pained expression on his face, like he had a cut that wouldn’t heal. “I…,” Winston said through gritted teeth, “I can’t.”

  “It’s not true,” Marcus said, lashing out. He could feel hot anger welling up inside him that he hadn’t felt in some time. “Did he spell you to say that, Grandpa? Is this some kind of mind control thing he can do?”

  “No, no, my children,” Mirella said, getting down on one knee and opening her arms. “It’s the truth. Come see your mother.”

  “You’re not my mother. You tried to kill me,” Ellie spat, looking directly at her without breaking eye contact, “And even if you were, I wouldn’t want you.”

  Mirella clutched at her neck and gasped for air, like she had something stuck in her throat. Then Sol stepped forward, teeth gnashing. ”Never speak to your mother that way again,” he hissed. “You will show her some respect.”

  “Those are big words for a coward,” Marcus said. “You just shot an old woman to the ground; the one that actually mothered us. You have to earn respect.”

  “You’re confused, Son,” Sol said, his oily voice sounding softer. “You’re confused and upset. I’m afraid there is only one remedy for your confusion.” He lifted his cane, and with anger in his countenance, sent a furious barrage of electric mag
ic at Charlotte.

  She arched off the floor as if something had bitten her lower back, and then she screamed and writhed on the ground. “Make it stop,” she said, clawing at the ground.

  “This is your doing, Marcus,” Sol said. “You have but one mother, and now we will remove any confusion. Who is your mother, Marcus?”

  “No!” Winston exclaimed as he hurled a large bolt of energy at Mirella, sending her screaming in pain to topple to the ground behind Sol. Then she was silent. She didn’t move.

  Sol immediately turned his anger toward Winston, letting up on Charlotte, who continued to twist on the floor a moment, and then stopped.

  Pat motioned for her brim, but Winston waved her off seriously. “This is my fight, Pat. I started it, and I must be the one to end it now.”

  Back and forth, Winston and Sol fired wild bursts of magic at each other down the hallway. Everyone took cover where they could. The patients hid behind overturned tables and beds. Marcus and the others rounded the corner of the hall opposite Sol and Mirella.

  Then, just like that, a bolt of magic struck Winston in the shoulder, sending him toppling to the ground. He clutched his arm, seemingly unable to move, and then lost consciousness.

  Pat reached for her brim.

  “Grandpa,” Ellie shouted as she reached for him.

  Sol laughed and advanced toward the children. “Playtime’s over, kids. It’s time to go,” he said.

  Marcus was furious. He couldn’t sit by and let this happen to his family. He lifted his brim to attack Sol, but a burst of magic struck his hand just as he raised it, and he lost the sphere.

  Sol clicked his tongue. “Don’t tempt me, Son.”

  “Stop calling me that,” Marcus said as he cradled his hand, “I’m not your son.”

  Then, without explanation, Pat yelled, “Now!”

  The patients shot up from cover simultaneously, pulled out their own brims from their robes, and cast a barrage of magic at Sol. Completely surprised, Sol did the only thing he could do: he dove to the ground and scrambled behind the corner at his end of the hall, a stunned expression flashing across his face. He popped out from around the corner from time to time, and returned fire. He didn’t look nearly as confident as he had just moments earlier.