The Magician

The magician stood at the edge of the stage, tall, regal, imposing. He wore a silk suit and top hat, and a swallow-tailed coat like something out of The Music Man. His face was blank but elegant. He spread his arms wide.1

The crowd jabbered before him.2

Chris, front row center, stared up at the magician. Chris’s friend Sam was narrating some schoolyard experience from last year. It seemed very interesting to Sam, but Chris was consumed with the magician.3

“Ladies and gentlemen—”4

The magician’s voice boomed from the stage, but was drowned in a sea of conversation and squalling children.5

“Ladies and gentlemen—”6

Chris motioned for Sam to shut up. Sam looked annoyed.7

“I am the Great Langdon!” declared the magician. “And I will make all the lights in this theatre… Go out!”8

He threw up his hands and suddenly all was dark. A few teenagers mock-screamed. Chris thought he heard sloppy kissing somewhere. The lights came back on, and all was quiet.9

“That,” boomed the Great Langdon, “Was not magic.” He took off his hat. “But this,” pulling a rabbit from it, “And this,” tossing the rabbit into the air so that it seemed to burst into confetti, “And everything else I’m going to show you tonight, is.”10

Sam leaned over to him. “He had a mirror in the hat. And then there was a mirror or something that he threw the rabbit behind, and a stage hand took it off. Something like that.”11

The Great Langdon did a few more tricks, then asked for a volunteer. “I promise not to cut you in half,” he said, smiling.12

A young girl came up. The magician asked if she knew him. She answered that she did not. He then said her name, including the two middle names. She grinned and said he was right. The Great Langdon fanned a deck of cards in front of her, asking her to pick one and show it to the audience, but not to him. She did, and put it on the bottom of the deck, as instructed. The magician began shuffling the cards—13

“Egyptian shuffle,” murmured Sam. “The deck doesn’t really move.”14

The Great Langdon fanned the cards out again, then chose one, seemingly at random. He held it up to the girl. “Is this your card?”15

She laughed and nodded.16

The magician did a few more card tricks. Sam knew all of them.17

Soon the Great Langdon thanked them for being a wonderful audience, and made his exit. There would be a vaudeville act next, and then the movie. Sam wondered—a little too loudly for Chris’s comfort—why they had to have all this stuff before the movie.18

“Because it’s an old movie,” Chris said, remembering something one of his teachers had told him. “And that’s how people used to watch old movies. It’s historical.” 19

The first song started, and Sam squirmed uncomfortably. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go walk around.”20

The song was getting to Chris too, so he followed Sam down the aisle and out into the lobby. There were three teenagers out there: a girl with a ponytail working the counter, and a boy and girl, sloppily dressed, talking to her. As Chris and Sam emerged from the theatre, deliberately avoiding eye contact with these dangerous creatures, the girl behind the counter said, “Are you Chris?”21

“Y-yes,” Chris said.22

“You’re in my sister’s grade,” she said.23

“Oh,” Chris said.24

“He’s too young to care about girls yet,” said the teenage boy, laughing. “Aren’t you?”25

Chris was, but somehow he resented this boy. “No,” he growled.26

The three teenagers laughed. The girl behind the counter surveyed him. “You’re cute,” she said. “The girls are gonna like you.”27

Chris was blushing now. Sam tapped his shoulder. “Come on,” he growled. “Let’s get out of here.”28

Chris looked at the girl. “We’ll be back,” he said.29

“Okay,” she said.30

They wandered down Main Street. It was an old town. The buildings towered over them, imposing. Chris and Sam emerged from the theatre and turned down the alley, threading past piles of garbage bags that smelled of grease and rot. There was an open door through which the sounds of the vaudeville act drifted faintly.31

They went through the door and were shrouded in darkness. They threaded their way among the hanging curtains offstage. They found a small hallway, which Chris realized must run behind the screen. They emerged, and were offstage on the other side; and there was another hallway before them. Chris started for it, but Sam grabbed his arm.32

“We should go back,” he whispered. “Before somebody catches us here.”33

Chris looked longingly down the hallway, started forward, then turned back. “You’re right,” he said. Sam started to lead the way back, but Chris stopped suddenly. “No.” Sam turned to face him. “It’s not right…Something. I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling. You… You go back. I’ll be there soon.”34

Sam opened his mouth as if to object, then caught Chris’s eye. He turned back wordlessly.35

Chris went cautiously down the dark hallway. The only sounds were his footsteps, loud on the wood, and the vaudeville act, strangely muted from here. He didn’t know what he was looking for until he saw it—an open door, with soft golden light trickling from it.36

He stopped in front of the door and peered around it. The first thing he noticed was the candle racks. Two of them with four candles each, and one with a single candle. They stood haphazardly, as if whoever had arranged them thought nothing of symmetry. The light they gave was deep and substantial, unlike electric light which was thin and reedy and seemed always on the verge of collapsing.37

The scene illuminated was no less mysterious. Top hats and bowlers, cards of various kinds, caged birds, a saw, rope, a pair of free-standing mirrors, and other debris lay scattered around the room. A large, long box like a casket stood on a seeming altar against the far wall. Two armchairs looked as if they’d been placed at complete random in the midst of the debris. One held a large black cat. The other held a man.38

He was a tall man, and he didn’t see Chris because he was bent over, head in hands, crying. His body shook all over, and soft sobs floated through the gloom. The boy was frozen. Fear and fascination and wonder and terror washed over him—he had never seen a grown-up cry before. He knew you despised older people who cried; but he somehow couldn’t get himself to feel disgust.39

He took a step backward, then another. He was about to turn and flee when the man looked up.40

It was the Great Langdon. His face went hard immediately, and he raised his hands, which glinted in the candlelight. Then he caught sight of Chris and the mask was removed and the face sank back into despair. The hands returned to their lap.41

“I suppose this seems wrong to you,” the Great Langdon said, wiping his cheeks. “The grand magician dissolved in tears. But I am not a magician.”42

Chris snorted. “I saw you up there. You did all kinds of tricks. How could you not be a magician?”43

The Great Langdon raised a finger, and he wore an expression teachers sometimes got when about to reveal something earth-shattering. “But, you see, they weren’t tricks.”44

“What?” said Chris.45

The Great Langdon sighed. “Your name is Christopher, and you dislike your last name. Your father used to drink and then he ran off. Your mother continues to drink, quite heavily, and you pretend not to care, but it is only pretend.”46

Chris was speechless, but he knew there were lots of ways to know or at least guess… all that.47

The magician beckoned. “Come here.” Chris approached warily. The magician held up his hands, spread his fingers. He rolled his shirtsleeves back to his elbows. He reached behind Chris’s ear, pulled out a coin. It gleamed in the candlelight, golden and new.48

Chris shrugged, but pocketed the coin.49

The magician held his palm out. Chris looked at it, wondering if he was supposed to do something. A coin appeared on the magician’s hand. It did not pop, nor did it slowly materialize. But it was most certainly not there a moment ago, and it was most certainly there now.50

Chris’s mouth formed an O.51

The magician held out a deck of cards. “Name a card,” he said.52

“Eight of clubs.”53

The magician drew the eight of clubs. He let it fall to the floor. “Pick another,” he said.54

“Ace of spades.”55

The magician turned over the ace of spades. He dropped it to the floor. “Pick another.”56

“Nine of hearts.”57

The magician drew the nine of hearts. He dropped it. “Another.”58

“Three of diamonds… no, clubs.”59

The magician drew the three of clubs. He dropped it to the floor.60

The four of hearts. The jack of spades. The king of clubs. The four of spades. The eight of hearts. The five of this, the six of this, the seven of that. King, queen, jack, ten… one, two, three, four. They all turned over, until Chris forgot what was there, and began repeating himself. And those cards were always there too.61

Chris stared at the Great Langdon’s face in awe. “Teach me.” 62

The magician shook his head sadly. “Mine is not a talent to be learned. Indeed, by the time you acquire it, you will discover you do not want it.”63

He searched Chris’s eyes. His own were a dark blue. They were wide, and hurt, and vulnerable. But behind them lurked something more dangerous—a flash of teeth, the glint of knives.64

“Your stop here is done,” the magician said. “Time to be on your way.” He turned Chris around, gave him a light push between the shoulder blades. “You must return to me some day,” he said. “Pray it is in this world.”65

Chris walked slowly back through the hallways and out into the alley. He was deep in thought, trying to process all that had happened, to divine meaning from the magician’s words. He didn’t see the tall man until he almost walked into him.66

Chris looked up. The man was wrapped in a black trench coat, and he had a top hat that seemed ridiculously high, higher than the Great Langdon’s. It made the man appear even more the giant. His face, peering out between hat brim and coat collar, was pale white, with a dark moustache perched on his upper lip. His eyes were small and black.67

“Hello, child,” said the man. “Perhaps you can help me. I am looking for a friend of mine. A magician. Are there any magicians around here?”68

Chris found the man’s words and the sneering way in which he delivered them repelling. He looked at his feet.69

The man grasped him by the collar, and put his face by Chris’s, so Chris had no choice but to stare him in the eye. His breath was foul, and some of the strands of the moustache were too long, brushing the man’s pale lip. “You must look at me, boy,” he said. “When you look at me, I know if you are telling the truth.”70

Chris stared defiantly into the man’s eyes. “There aren’t any magicians around here.”71

The man stared at him a few moments, eyes darting around Chris’s face. He let Chris go and stood aside, and Chris rushed down the alley and back into the theatre.72

The movie was starting. 73

*74

Years passed. The old movie house played its weekly matinees. The old organist, who was also the owner, finally passed on, and his movie theatre went to his sons. They sold it to the highest bidder, a company that decided there was no profit to be made showing movies there, and immediately closed it down.75

Chris was unconcerned by this. For he was in middle school, and had his own problems—most of them female. As if in fulfillment of prophecy, he had indeed become “cute.” But it was more than just looks—he seemed to have the ability to make any girl blush within a minute of talking to her. He could win hearts with a glance, win bodies with a single touch. Chris sometimes, though not often, thought this more trouble than it was worth.76

He went back to the old theatre often, and often Sam went with him. They went when they each had a girl, and didn’t want to be around squawking friends.77

One night in early November they took a pair of girls down to the theatre, using the door off the alley. Chris held it open, then jammed it shut when the other three were inside. He turned in time to see Sam pinching both girls on the butt. They squealed and giggled and Chris punched Sam, good-naturedly, on the arm.78

They sat on the edge of the stage a while, laughing hollowly, joking about unfunny things. Chris couldn’t help looking out over rank upon rank of abandoned seats, and hearing the whispers and the laughter of the ghosts. He and Sam reminisced about the movies they had seen here, adventures they had had. Sam mentioned a night when Chris had gone away and not come back for a long time, and looked at Chris as if hoping to hear the story, but Chris pretended not to remember.79

Soon the girls grew bored and began poking their respective dates, prodding them and feeling them. Then the kisses began, and they lasted longer and longer until, by wordless agreement, Sam and Chris rose, took their dates’ hands, and went their separate ways.80

Chris led her through the dark hallway. He knew every step, but she didn’t, and he kept stumbling when she hesitated. Soon they were in another hallway, and they could both see because moonlight and streetlight filtered through a window above their heads.81

Chris pressed her close, pressed his lips to hers. They were clumsy at first, then they molded to each other. He pressed her back, opening his mouth a little. She bumped against a door, and it swung open. Suddenly they were falling…82

They hit the ground with a dull thud as the door slid away. She squeaked a little, then disappeared, and Chris was suddenly on the cold wooden floor, alone.83

He looked up. One candle blazed, on a brazier built for four. It cast a dim buttery light on the room, on a form in a chair. Chris rose and went to stand in front of it.84

The Great Langdon was older, the lines on his face more pronounced, his eyes sunken. He smiled at Chris, an old smile, brittle and filled with dust and old bones.85

“What did you do with her, you son of a bitch?” Chris whispered.86

The smile disappeared, but the magician spoke as if Chris had not. “Christopher. You are in grave danger.”87

Chris snorted. “From what? Unprotected sex? They gave us that fucking lecture in school.”88

Langdon’s eyes widened. “Well, yes, but that is the least of your concerns.” He produced a deck of cards, fanned it expertly. “Choose me the eight of hearts.”89

Chris pulled out a card and turned it over. The eight of hearts. He dropped it to the ground. “You did that.”90

The magician shook his head, handing the cards to Chris. “Try it yourself. Choose your own cards.”91

Chris narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Ace of spades. Jack of clubs. Three of diamonds. Four of hearts. Shit.” He threw the card deck aside. It spread itself over the floor. “You’re still doing this. It’s nothing to do with me. You could get any kid in here and do the same.” His words were angry, but also desperately hopeful.92

The magician shook his head. “I wish it were that simple. For your own sake, kid.”93

Chris was angry. “Don’t call me kid, you patronizing old bastard! What are you, my father? And what in hell did you do with her?”94

The magician started, as if he’d forgotten about the girl. He snapped his fingers behind his back, and the coffin-like box at the back of the room began to shake. A thin voice emerged from it.95

Chris stepped over a pair of ventriloquist dummies and a rather bland female mask. He heaved the box open and the girl’s voice was suddenly loud. After a moment she leapt from the box and tumbled to the floor. He picked her up and wrapped his arms around her. He looked at the magician for a moment, but she was crying and seemed hardly able to stand. He kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked from the room.96

He called for Sam a few times, but she was still sobbing, and he finally took her hand and led her home. She quieted down once they were on Main Street. He walked her to the door of her house, and she turned and faced him, her mouth slightly open. Her eyes were red, and her thick eyeliner was all down her cheeks. Chris had a wild urge to wipe it away, to hold her close and whisper comfort in her ear. He turned and walked away. 97

*98

Chris had to cross Main Street again to get back home. He wondered whether his mom would be sober enough to realize he wasn’t back yet, and whether she would care. Probably no to both questions. He wondered which of the guys from the bar would be in her bed tonight.99

The wide street was empty as he crossed it. A few cars sat like slumbering beasts. A good prod would wake them, Chris thought, and they would charge about in alarm and drive into walls, and the false fronts of the shops would crumble and reveal small sad sheds. The dust and dirt of everyday use lay in the road.100

There was, Chris realized, a man in the street. He had not seen him until just now, partly because he had not expected to, and partly because the man stood in a pool of shadows, in the exact spot several streetlights failed to reach. Chris tried to ignore him, but found himself drawn unavoidably closer. Soon he was standing in front of him, gazing up.101

Chris recognized the face. It was white, and sported a poorly kept mustache, and the eyes were black. They scowled at Chris.102

“We need to talk.”103

“So talk,” growled Chris.104

“Three years ago, I asked you a question. Your answer wasn’t very helpful.”105

“It was true.”106

“I know! That’s the thing of it. I know there’s a damn miracle-man in this town. And I know you know about him.”107

Chris thought of the girl—what was her name again? Courtney?—wriggling out of the coffin, of the terror in her eyes. “There’s no miracle-men here.”108

The tall man narrowed his eyes. “You’re telling the truth again. But I know you know something.”109

“I don’t know anything… Nothing unusual, at any rate.”110

“Ah,” said the man, in a disappointed tone. “Now that was a lie.”111

Chris shrugged. “Least, nothing you’re gonna get from me.”112

“And that, dammit to hell, was the truth.” 113

*114

He learned a lot that year. A lot of what you couldn’t learn in school. A lot about making out, and about dating, and about girls, and about himself. He learned how far you could go. He learned what girls expected—more or less, to be treated like dirt. He learned what to expect from them, which was more or less the same. He learned to watch out for their traps, and to bludgeon his way into their hearts, but mostly into their pants.115

Everything seemed correct. He was growing up, becoming a man, learning all the things a man should. That lasted until one night in early June. 116

“Sunday’s child is fair of face,” recited the girl, Jennifer. “Monday’s child…” she stopped, looking at him. “I’m a Sunday’s child. What about you?”117

Chris laughed and settled his arm more tightly around her. “No idea. But you do have a pretty face.”118

She laughed, and blushed, and leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. “Do you know how long I’ve liked you?”119

Chris grunted, knowing what this really meant. Not yet. Not quite yet…120

They were seated on the wet grass, in the darkness behind the park shelter. A few feet away, Sam and his current girlfriend were making out noisily.121

“There’s something behind your ear,” Chris said.122

She huffed and felt around. “No there isn’t,” she said.123

With the arm that was around here, Chris reached behind her ear and pulled a gold coin out of the air. He pressed it into her hand. She gasped. It was an old-fashioned coin, emblazoned with designs and words neither of them recognized. It gleamed as if fresh from the mint.124

A cold wind crossed his face, and Chris looked up. The darkness was dense around him. The moon was on the opposite side of the shelter, and no streetlights reached this far. He realized he hadn’t heard anything from Sam for a while.125

As if sensing his thoughts, Jennifer said, “They’re awful quiet over there.”126

“Yeah,” said Chris. “Think I should go check on them?”127

“Maybe…”128

Chris got up and shuffled toward them. “Sam?” he said, and his voice sounded very loud. There was no answer. He bent down, squinting in the darkness. His eyes adjusted, and he caught his breath. Sam and his girlfriend lay in the grass, stiff, like wax dummies. Their eyes were wide with terror, glassy with unconsciousness.129

He turned around, and was not surprised at what he saw. A tall man in a trench coat, with a ridiculous top hat that, in the darkness, made him more menacing. Jennifer dangled from his arms, like an old rag doll. She seemed to have neither bones nor joints.130

“You screwed the pooch, boy,” said the tall man, looking at Jennifer reflectively. “You gave me an in.” He looked at Chris then, and his beady eyes pinned Chris to the spot. “I want you to tell me,” he said. “Who gave you the gift.”131

“I wasn’t given it,” Chris said. “I was born with it.”132

The man shook Jennifer, and she flailed helplessly. Chris resisted the urge to jump toward her. He thought of ways he could use his gift. He tried conjuring guns, crowbars, a police car, or at least a police siren.133

The tall man laughed. “You can’t use that trickery to save people,” he said. “Not even to save yourself.” He paused, studying Chris. “Maybe I wasn’t clear just now. Tell me who gave you the gift, or I’ll do horrible things to her.”134

Chris snorted. “You think I care what happens to her?”135

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”136

A new voice boomed through the night, one that sounded accustomed to speaking to an audience. “As do I. And I want you to leave.”137

Chris and the tall man turned to look at the newcomer. Also a tall man, and also wearing a top hat. The Great Langdon.138

“Ah,” growled the man holding Jennifer. “Now we have a party.”139

“Leave,” said Langdon again.140

The tall man’s eyes widened. He threw Jennifer aside, and she lay in an unnatural heap on the grass. The tall man stepped closer to Langdon. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this, old man?” he said. “Do you think I’m just going to leave him for you?”141

The tall man’s eyes had filled with tears, but his gaze was cold.142

“Yes, that is what I think,” said Langdon. “Or, you’ll fight me, and you’ll lose because you still don’t have the power I do. And you’ll still leave him to me. So I say for the last time, leave!”143

The tall man turned and walked away. He gestured carelessly at Jennifer as he passed her, and she began shaking and twitching violently. Her mouth opened, and she screamed in anguish. The tall man disappeared in the night.144

Chris ran to Jennifer’s side, and held her against him. Tears streamed down his face and pooled on her back. This seemed to quiet her. He lay her down in the grass. She was still jerking and muttering, ill-at-ease. Langdon rose from where he had been tending Sam and his girlfriend.145

“Will they be all right?” Chris said.146

The magician nodded. “They’ll wake with a headache and not much of a memory of what happened. Jennifer, on the other hand…” He looked at her face, tenderly, and his eyes filled with tears. “Beauty is corrupted so young these days, isn’t it?” The tears cascaded down the magician’s face. Chris began to cry too, though precisely why, he could not say.147

The magician wiped his tears and smeared them horizontally across the girl’s forehead. Chris wiped his own, and smeared them vertically. Jennifer stopped twitching, stopped moving at all, and settled into a deep sleep. The magician gathered her up in his arms, and started walking. Chris followed.148

“Where are we taking her?” he said.149

“Home,” said the Great Langdon.150

They walked swiftly through town. Things were dead, lights off, doors shut. There didn’t even seem to be any police cars out. Chris wondered if this was Langdon’s doing.151

Soon they were in Langdon’s room, and the magician laid the girl in his coffin-like box and closed the lid. Chris looked at the box dubiously. “She’ll be fine in there,” Langdon said. “You, however—I think you need to sleep.”152

Chris shook his head, curling into one of the magician’s overstuffed chairs. He gestured absentmindedly at the candle, which sprang to life. It seemed to cast more shadow than light.153

“I’ll never sleep now,” Chris said. “I need some explanation.”154

“Very well,” said the magician. “What would you like to know?”155

“Um… Well, who was that guy, and what does he want?”156

Langdon shook his head, as if there were no real answer to that. “He was the old enemy, and he wanted what the enemy always wants—the destruction of all that we love.”157

Chris thought about this for a moment. “That doesn’t make any sense. But I think I know what you mean.” Langdon smiled.158

“So what am I supposed to do about it?” Chris said.159

The magician shrugged. “That’s always the question, isn’t it? I’ve been hiding out here thirty years, when I could have been out, helping people, saving them, bringing light to their lives. But maybe in staying here, I will be used to save you, and maybe you will do many thousands of times more than I ever could. But this doesn’t help you,” he paused. “I find that often, the answer to questions like that is right in front of us.” He glanced toward the coffin.160

“But, we’re healing her,” said Chris. “Aren’t we?”161

The magician shook his head sadly. “We’re mending her body. It’s the rest of her we’re really concerned about.”162

Chris lowered his head, stared fixedly at the floor. “You were wrong when you said I cared for her. I don’t. She was just someone to kiss.”163

“No,” said Langdon, bending down to stare at his chest, as if he could see into Chris’s heart. “It’s in there. You know it is. It’s just repressed.164

“There’s a part of you that cries for her, for the little girl she was. Yes, you can see it. Wide-eyed, wanting only to bring joy to those around her. So deeply in love with her parents, back when love meant something. So enraptured by their every word. She was beautiful.165

“But that was before—before she had to grow up, before she found that one of her parents could hit and the other could bleed. Before she was taught that nobody cared for her, that all affection was false. Before she learned that there was always an ulterior motive, that you had to play the game or you’d… get screwed over.166

“The beauty in her festered, twisted, ran amok. It became something flashy, a tool to get people to do her bidding…”167

Chris was in tears now. He knew you didn’t cry, not at this age, not if you had any self-respect. But the tears flowed, hot and shameful.168

The Great Langdon whispered in his ears. “This is what you must do, son. Fill your heart with sadness, that you may know the sadness of others. Empathize, sympathize. Serve. This is the responsibility that comes with your power.”169

At some point Chris fell asleep. He awoke and his eyes were still wet. He somehow knew that dawn was breaking outside. He turned to the coffin, made a gesture with his hand. The lid raised, and Jennifer climbed out, her eyes wide and dry. She went to Chris, and he hugged her tightly, and whispered, “I love you.”170

She shook against him, and her tears were hot on his cheek. 171

*172

Chris walked her home, then headed for home himself. He got there in time to get ready for school. Opening and closing the front door as quietly as he could, he was surprised to find his mother sitting upright in the overstuffed chair facing the door, asleep. There was an empty beer bottle in her hand.173

He tried to sneak past her, but she woke up, glaring groggily at him. “Where whu’ you last night?” she said.174

Chris shrugged. “I was… Out.” He started to edge away.175

“Sleeping with some girl?”176

“No,” Chris said resentfully, though any other night it could easily have been true.177

His mom stared at him a moment longer, then shrugged. “Go get ready for school before you’re late.”178

Chris left, and she went to the back door, opened it, and threw the beer bottle hard into the recycling bin. It shattered. “It starts so young today,” she muttered. “So damn young.” 179

*180

Chris wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act at school, now, or how he wanted to act, or how he could act without getting called a pansy or a Baptist. But he found it wasn’t hard to know, once you got down to it. You just went against what you had been taught, against what had become instinct.181

Jennifer sat with him at lunch. Though no one was terribly jealous, not like when he was dating Courtney or one of the “really hot” girls, Chris thought he had never been so happy. Sam sat next to him too, of course. If he noticed Chris behaving oddly, he didn’t mention it.182

“What-What happened last night?” said Sam at one point. Chris looked at Jennifer, and she gave him a secret smile.183

Chris shrugged. “Nothing, really. You had too much to drink and passed out. Couldn’t wake you up. If we were meaner, we’d have drawn on you.”184

“Also we didn’t have a pen handy,” said Jennifer.185

Sam rolled his eyes. “But usually I remember something. Last night… it’s just blank.”186

Chris shrugged, and Jennifer stifled a laugh. 187

Chris and Sam spent last period (gym) hiding in the bathroom, as they often did. Mr. Williams never missed them.188

“Chris,” Sam said, and he was using his talking-about-something-serious voice. Chris looked at him attentively. “I lied when I said I didn’t remember anything last night. I do have this one memory—I must have dreamed it when I passed out.”189

“You don’t dream when you pass out,” said Chris absently.190

Sam’s eyes widened. “I know.” They both stood there a moment, then Sam continued. “I went to this place. I was locked in some kind of cell, all by myself, and I was away from everybody, everything I had ever known. It was like I knew nobody could see me, and nobody knew about me or cared about me.191

“You remember what that one guy we heard speak said? ‘If there is a God, then that’s awful, because it means you’re supervised from the time before you’re born to the day you die and after.’ Well, it was like the opposite of that. I was completely unsupervised, and completely alone.”192

Chris stared hard at the grubby tiles of the bathroom floor. There was a long pause. “What do you think it means?” Chris said.193

Sam snorted. “Means? It was just a dream.” 194

*195

That night they went to the theatre again. Sam and his girlfriend went off and found the usual dark corner, but Jennifer was fascinated by the old stage. She clomped around, listening to the hollow sound of the boards, looking out over the cobwebbed mildewy seats and imagining an audience out there, waiting, expectant. Chris started to wrap himself in one of the curtains, but she took his arm, gently tugging him away.196

“There’s… stuff, on those. Burns your skin if you get it on you.”197

Chris nodded, took her hand. “There were bluebirds singing…” he started softly, but he couldn’t remember the words. He'd seen the movie once, here, long ago.198

“But I never heard them before,” her voice was like… like jumping into cold water on a hot day. “No, I never heard them at all, till there was you.”199

She looked at him. “We’ve turned into a couple of old people,” she said.200

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”201

She grinned.202

He clasped her hand more tightly, pulling her after him. She hesitated, as if reluctant, but then she followed. They went through the tunnel and down the hallway, and stepped softly into the room of the Great Langdon.203

He was sitting in one of his chairs, and half a dozen candles were lit. He seemed to be waiting for them.204

“Good evening,” he said, and he sounded as grandiose and theatrical as Chris remembered him.205

“Hey,” Chris said, grinning.206

“Hi,” Jennifer said softly, looking at the floor.207

“And how are the two of you, this fine evening?”208

“All right,” Chris said. “Considering.” He looked at Jennifer, who nodded in agreement.209

Langdon turned to Jennifer. “Do you understand what happened to you, kid?” he said gently. “That was quite an experience.”210

She nodded, still looking at the floor. “I-I understand enough. I saw things… Some of them were horrible. But some…”211

“Some things,” said Langdon, “Are better left unspoken.”212

She nodded.213

“Who was that basta- that guy?” said Chris. “The one who did that to her? What did he want?”214

The magician shook his head. “A servant of the old enemy, the oldest enemy. As to what he wants, it is the same as ever—he wants us. He would prefer if we joined with him, but he will settle for our destruction.”215

“But… But you said you were stronger than him, right?” said Chris. “You said no matter what happened, that… that you would defeat him?”216

The magician nodded. “That is as it ever was. Thus, he will be sneaky. He will not engage in open battle, for that would lead to his destruction. He will approach us at side angles, try to ruin us by ruining others.”217

Jennifer had seated herself on the floor, against the wall. “What can we do?” she said.218

“Do?” said the Great Langdon. “There is nothing to do. All has been done. You may yet have roles to play, but worry not about them. You will know when they have been appointed for you.” He sat forward in his chair. “There is one thing that any wise man worth listening to has asked of his followers—love. And to love is to serve.”219

Chris absorbed these words carefully. He wasn’t sure he understood them, but he decided to let his subconscious mull it over.220

“There is one who loved as fully and deeply as any man can—in fact, moreso. You will find out about this eventually.221

"We are children of light," Langdon said, reflectively. "And as such, the darkness clusters all around us. We speak of high-minded things, of good versus evil, of slaying dragons within and without. But we forget, sometimes, that our doppelgangers do exist; we forget that there is truly evil in the world. And when it comes roaring out of the shadows, fangs bared, and tears us and scars us with unspeakable horror, sometimes we lose sight of the good that, in the end, is really the victor. 222

"And sometimes, lost in Misery, in the dark wood of Despair, there is nothing to do but sing, a song of light in the darkness, and wait for others to answer our call. And soon, oh soon, that song will be ended, and its yearning--fulfilled."223

Chris only half-heard this last. The flickering candlelight, and Langdon’s sonorous voice, had lulled his eyelids shut. His head drooped. The magician reached over and shook him.224

“You’d better get her home,” he said, nodding at Jennifer. “She can only use the ‘slept over at a friend’s house’ excuse so many times, you know?” he winked at Chris.225

Chris nodded. He gestured helplessly, unable to say what he wanted to say. “Thanks,” he managed, lamely.226

Langdon smiled and nodded. “Come by anytime.”227

He woke Jennifer from where she had also fallen asleep, and the two of them left the magician’s room and called to Sam that they were heading home. They walked slowly, hand in hand. Neither said much, deep in their own thoughts. They stood in a dark spot in her yard for a moment, then hugged each other tightly. They remained that way for about a minute before she said goodnight. 228

*229

The next day, at Chris’s insistence, they all met at the library after school. Chris had a stack of religion books on the table next to him, and was paging through them. Jennifer immediately started to help; Sam and the girl Sam was dating stood by, looking skeptical. Chris and Jennifer ignored them, and eventually Sam started to help. The girl wandered away.230

Chris turned a page and saw, spread before him, a man nailed to a cross. He was bleeding from a multitude of wounds. A circlet of thorns ringed his head, biting into it. There were nails through his flesh. The caption on the picture read, “The only man who need never have died.”231

He showed it to Jennifer, who bowed her head. 232

*233

He got home that evening, and his mother was there, sober. He asked her, “Mom, was I ever baptized?”234

She snorted. “Yeah,” she said. “Your father made sure, before he ran off. No idea why.” She looked at him. “You go to the camp meeting and get religion, or something?”235

Chris shook his head. “I dunno. Not really.”236

She snorted. “I guess it’d be better than my religion.” 237

*238

A week later, Chris noticed a new guy at lunch. He was tall, somewhat gangly—he looked awkward. Chris sat across from him. Jennifer and Sam and Sam’s girlfriend sat nearby, but Sam and his girlfriend were occupied with each other most of the time.239

“Chris,” he said, holding out his hand.240

The boy looked at it a moment as if unused to such a situation, then shook it. “Darren,” he said, glancing up at Chris’s face, then looking back at his lunch.241

“You new here?” asked Chris.242

Darren nodded. “Mom moved us here, to get away from dad.”243

Jennifer blinked. “Is your dad… well, is he going to come after you?”244

“Naw,” said Darren. “Too lazy. Just made life hell for us when we were nearby. Easy, I guess.” He shrugged, and stared harder at his food.245

Chris gave Jennifer a look, and said, “Like any of the teachers so far?”246

Darren shrugged. “Mrs. Needleman’s kinda hot.”247

Chris nodded. “Yeah.” Jennifer rolled her eyes.248

They made awkward conversation through the rest of lunch. The bell rang. “What’s next for you?” Chris asked Darren.249

“Math,” he said, grimacing.250

“Hey, me too,” said Chris.251

He said bye to Jennifer in the hallway, and he led Darren through the halls, and the two of them complained about math. They sat through math class, then found they had history together. Chris led him there, and afterward they complained about how boring the late 1800s were. They had football in PE, and found plenty to complain about there, too.252

They met Jennifer and Sam after school, and started for the library. Chris saw Sam’s girlfriend on the other side of the street. He called to her, but she glared at him and deliberately turned her head away. Chris looked at Sam.253

“You didn’t tell me about this.”254

Sam shrugged. “Only happened an hour ago.”255

“You don’t seem too broken up about it.”256

“She… She didn’t like you. Or Jenny.” He shrugged again.257

They got to the library, and Darren was asking Chris about his religious beliefs. Chris didn’t really answer, because he didn’t really know the answer. “You?” he asked.258

“It’s… complicated,” said Darren. 259

Jennifer’s mom picked her up at five, and brought Sam home. Chris and Darren decided to take a turn outside the building. The grass was soft under their feet. The air smelled of dead and dying plants.260

“You’re… You’re sad, aren’t you?” said Darren after a while.261

“What?” was all Chris could say.262

“I can see it in your eyes,” said Darren. “Some people go their whole lives without getting sad, not really sad. Some get real sad when they’re young. You’re one of them.”263

Chris shrugged. “I guess so.”264

“Your dad?”265

Chris looked sharply at Darren, whose broad features registered only concern, sympathy, deep thought—no manipulation.266

“Yeah,” said Chris. “My dad ran off when I was seven, eight, something like that. Never seen him since, never heard from him.”267

“You remember your dad?”268

“All I remember of him is him and my mom in these huge drunk shouting matches, and fighting. She’d hit back as much as he hit her. Ran off with some girl willing to be his slave, take his beating. At least that’s what my mom says.”269

“Mine up and left when I was three,” said Darren. “I mean moved out. Left my mom all beaten and bruised. Took weeks for the doctors to straighten her out, and then of course there was the huge bill she couldn’t pay…” He didn’t say anything for a while, then, “She still cries over him, sometimes.”270

They walked along in silence. They were at the back of the building now, walking past a row of windows. The sun reflected off them, so Chris couldn’t tell whether anyone was watching the two of them. He was digesting Darren’s story, and there was a gnawing hole in the pit of his stomach.271

“Sometimes,” said Darren, “it just makes you mad, doesn’t it?”272

Chris nodded, needing no explanation.273

“Sometimes,” said Darren. “Sometimes I want to track down my old man, give him a good hard smack in the jaw. I wanna punch him and kick him and tell him ‘that’s what you get for fuckin’ over my ma!’…274

“And all the others in the world. Your dad, and the people who hurt Jenny…”275

“How do you know about that?” said Chris.276

“Pretty obvious, what she said about her dad, that he’s the type to hurt a pretty little girl if he had one. I’d… I’d take a rock to their skulls. All of them.” 277

Chris felt the bile rising in his throat. He could only nod.278

“And us! We’re the worst,” continued Darren. “You seen how we act in school. All the shitty things our parents taught us, we repeat to each other. We act out all the little dramas, and we learn our lines and we’re good in the roles we choose. A girl who’s been hit at home can look forward to being hit again at school. A boy who’s had to see his ma hit can look forward to hitting his girlfriend. Your parents come home drunk every night? Easy enough to go on your own bender, with your friends from school.” 279

Darren lowered his voice, and the growl plucked a string deep in Chris’s soul. “They could use a little scaring straight. A little sacrifice.”280

Chris found himself nodding in agreement, not quite sure what he was agreeing to. He realized Darren was gone. 281

Chris set out across town, dark thoughts mulling around in his head. He pounded through the movie theatre door, carelessly, and hurried through the dark passageway, not bothering to conjure up a light.282

He opened the door to the magician’s room. Nine candles were blazing, as on the first night he had come in here. Both chairs were empty. No tall figure stood in the shadows by the wall; the Great Langdon didn’t seem to be anywhere. Chris went to the coffin, lifted the lid.283

A death’s head grinned at him, part of a skeleton in a magician’s suit. The Great Langdon’s suit, Chris knew, just as he knew the long, gleaming white fingers were of no wax dummy. Chris drew breath sharply, and began to let the lid fall. But one of the skeletal hands reached out and clasped his own. Something exploded across his field of vision.284

He saw the middle school, the faces of the students, each in turn. Some of them he knew; some he merely recognized. He saw, as an outsider, the dimension of time, and the path within it laid out for each of the faces he saw before him. He saw them fighting for a better world. Saw them building things up, sacrificing when sacrifices were needed. He saw them raising their children to be better than them… And he saw all of it reverse, snuffed out by a pair of middle schoolers.285

Chris shook free of the skeleton. 286

*287

Late that night, Chris was in bed not sleeping. The phone rang. His mother wasn’t home, but he hurried for it anyway.288

“Hello?”289

Darren’s voice. “It starts nine-oh-five tomorrow. The front entrance of school. Be on time, or I’ll do it without you.”290

“Okay,” said Chris. “I’ll be there.” He hung up the phone, his purpose set. 291

In the morning, Chris peered around the corner of the hallway, looking towards the front entrance of school. Darren was there, leaning on a pillar a few feet from the doorway, trying to look nonchalant. Chris glanced at his watch. Nine-oh-four. Darren stirred, reaching for a bulging pocket. Chris began to walk.292

He took long strides toward Darren. Not seeing him, the other boy pulled the gun from his pocket. He fired into the ceiling. Several girls screamed. Some people froze, in fear or shock, but most of them began to run. Chris did not break stride or change direction.293

Darren noticed him. He started to grin, then saw the expression on Chris’s face. His eyes widened.294

He turned the gun on Chris, fired. The bullet tore through his chest, and bits of flesh fell meatily to the floor. Chris continued walking. Darren fired a second time. The bullet grazed Chris’s side, and a stream of blood began to run down his leg. Chris was standing in front of Darren when Darren fired the third round.295

Chris tore the gun from Darren’s grip, pressed it to Darren’s chest, and fired. The two boys fell together, their limbs intertwined. Darren shifted; he was suddenly an older man with a pale face. He shifted again, showing his true form, a creature none dared to look upon.296

They were soon gathered around the bodies, the students and the teachers and the parents and the police. Their tears fell in unison, rivers of grief washing down their faces. Jennifer went to Chris and fell on him, weeping, and her tears pooled on his back.297

A tall man in a swallow-tailed coat and top hat made his way gently through the crowd. He bent and put his hand on Jennifer’s shoulder, and gently moved her aside. He gathered Chris up in his arms, and started toward the school doors. And he ignored the police, and at a word from him their cuffs fell away. He led the crowd through town, and it grew, and word spread. He led them into an old, broken-down theatre, and through a dark passageway. They watched at the door to a room lit by three candles, and the magician lowered the boy’s body into a coffin.298

The Great Langdon closed the door. 299

Three days later, they were all gathered in the old magician’s old hideaway, Langdon and Jennifer and Sam and all the rest. And their faces were turned toward the coffin, and soon joy dawned on them, like the rising of the sun.