In the weeks we've travelled together
I've never seen him go into a bar. Not because he made any kind of
promise – magicians know better than to do that – but maybe
because he knew about my mother. Or just didn't feel the need to; I
don't know. He sent Jay off for hot dogs with a couple of hundred
dollars bills a good twenty minutes ago from an envelope found on the
ground, and at the rate the kid eats it should keep him busy for
maybe another ten minutes. He gave me sixty from it for smokes and
then walked into the bar without a word.
The bar is cheap, scuzzed-up to try to
seem upscale. I could go in, underage or not. I'm no magician but I
could make bouncers leave me alone with a smile nasty enough to leave
them wetting the bed for weeks. Probably. Doesn't mean I should. I
get cigarettes at the nearest corner ship and walk back across from
the bar to wait: the guy at the counter didn't ask questions and took
my money. Lucky him. I'm not old enough to buy a drink but I can but
cigarettes. So it's a good life.
No one tries to bum a cigarette or a
light off of me while I wait; that's the kind of mood I'm in. I'm
lighting the fifth cigarette when I hear a voice speak behind me.
"Sometimes there is no fault, no
one to blame and no lessons one has to learn."
"Get lost." I don't turn
around. I can smell must and old clothing, the voice is old without
being frail, closing in on me slowly. The god inside me stirs, a
seismic rumble felt more than heard.
"Who isn't lost?" the woman's
voice parries.
Great. I turn not-smiling to face an
old woman who looks held together by wrinkles and layers of grimed-up
clothing. "Do magicians send away for lessons on being
pretentious?"
"That's a big word," she says
without a pause, close enough that the smell of her blindsides me
like walking into a gas station bathroom without holding my breath.
Her eyes are mud-brown and cold, eyes like quicksand turned to rot.
I stumble back, eyes watering. "That's
some magic," I croak out, cigarette hitting the ground and
guttering out.
"Hardly that," she says,
blinking rheumy eyes.
"That's you?
Why?"
Her laugh is
toenails scraping over tiled flooring. "You know, not a one of
them has ever asked me that," she says, and there is a weight to
the world, to the age of her, that hitches my breath for a moment.
I'm no magician to see into her, but there is something terrible and
ugly in her, something she cannot guard or hide.
"Not even
him?" I parry back, gesturing behind me to the bar with a hand
that barely shakes.
"Not yet. He
might some day."
"That's why
you're here?"
"No. He
reminds me of me, in small ways and large."
"And
that's not a good thing." I don't make it a question. "Let's
see: he gets himself dead drunk, you smell like a diseased sewer.
Your children will be the envy of no one."
"Have a care,
Charlie," she says, though her smile never wavers, all gummy as
if she had no bark to her bite. "A magician is more than your
simply psychology can hold."
I don't see her
move. One moment she's looking at me, the next a finger prods my
chest to push me back a step. Her fingernails are clean. Somehow I
notice that even as I know she's too big for me to eat, her magic a
wall nothing can breach. He always says that a magician is magic; she
is proof of where that logic can lead.
Mary-Lee is not eternal, but you can
see it from her. The thought
isn't mine, slipping into my head as easily as the god's voice can
rise up from inside me. Magicians. I have no idea when he realized
she was here, or if this is some kind of trap or test. Or even who it
is for.
"I think you'd
like to believe that," I offer, remaining between her and the
bar.
She just smiles and
steps forward, only to stop as a hand grabs her arm even as I draw
the god up from inside me. Claws come slowly but they do come.
"Charlie?"
Jay says, not looking up at me, his voice small and scared, not
letting go of Mary-Lee's wrist.
The magician stares
down at him. Jay looks back up, his face drained of any colour, eyes
even paler.
The magician yanks
her arm free faster than even Jay could move and steps back to study
the both of us. No hints of magic from inside the bar, no aid, just
Jay shaking like a leaf and my claws little more than echoes of
themselves, the god inside me reluctant to come forth against this
magician.
Mary-Lee smiles
then and bows to us, folding in on herself to vanish from sight. My
eyes throb for a moment, like a toothache scraping the bone inside my
head, and then it clears. The dank street – even the bar – seems
cleaner and brightened by her passing.
I say several rude
words to broaden Jay's vocabulary of this world. He slinks over and
presses his body into mine as he shudders all over, panting for air.
I want to say: 'But
you're from outside the universe, kiddo: was she really that scary?'
but I don't. He has a good nose for danger and the fact that he tried
to help instead of shitting himself and running away says a lot.
"Cigarette?"
I say, saying enough.
He takes one,
sniffs it, shakes his head, and hands it back a moment later. I light
it as he relaxes a little.
"What –"
Jay waves a hand to where the magician was – "that?"
I pause. "You
forgot a word." He says nothing; I don't press him. "What
did you think it was?"
"A thing
pretending to be human?"
"Probably
that, then." I take a deep drag of the cigarette and eye the
bar, waiting. Jay has sense enough to ask no more questions.
He doesn't come out
for another half hour. half-weaving as he stumble-steps out the door.
Hahaha! I laughed hard at that last line :D
ReplyDeleteFlash fiction 14 is going to be next (edited and with some words added to it, iirc). Basically, the magician really screws up for the first time and the stories from here until the novella I am working on now are them patching that up. Among other things.
DeleteAlso, just noticed your post in your blog about that story :) And nah, Jay wasn't a conscious poaching at all. I went with "Jasel + other syllables" for a name the creature couldn't say, and the magician switching it to Jay because it's common and quick and Jay as a bird makes a metaphorical sense later on in the story.
(Plus, at some point Charlie will tell people it's short for Jason just to tick Jay off a little :))
I only figured it would be conscious if you were planning to kill him off or do horribly unspeakable things ;)
DeleteBut yeah, I think that's one of the most natural things... unconsciously borrowing from writing buddies, like I *might?* have chosen Seth as a name without thinking when you were writing a story with a character named Zeth :P
I like Jay... but (you said in another post about not writing from his viewpoint), I think the magician certainly works better as the primary viewpoint. If you did write an entire story from Charlie's viewpoint, I'd love to read scenes before she devoured the god in her closet... then enjoy the change/growth in her as the story progressed.
Okay, going to sleep now, catching up on the rest tomorrow :)
Yeah, the magician definitely works best as the viewpoint character for most of the story. I'm alternating between him and Charlie for the novella but likely won't do that as much for the novel [which will not be in present tense, either]. Charlie brings a fun (and human) touch the magician sorely needs at times; Jay adds a touch of comedy and other motives, but I've only managed one story from his POV and will likely not to another as humanizing him weakens the character.
DeleteStill working out change/growth in the novel itself, as I tend to be leery of the terms. I figure it will be more the characters coming to terms with themselves and their pasts (and the futures they've chosen) more than anything else. And I definitely want Charlie to wander off after it and do her own stuff for a time.