The Curse

“Power is in the world to be used!” The magician grins, snapping his fingers. Drawing on need and desire, bending the world to his will. A dozen car alarms go off down the street, at least six windows shattering. “You tell me to hide as if every star should be a candle!”

I sigh. This is the problem with some new magicians. Power runs through them, the ties that bind them to a place haven’t solidified their nature. All they feel is the magic, the possibilities opening up into probabilities they can twist. To be a magician is to have the universe on your side: it’s a heady experience, especially for those with ego problems.

I nod to Jay, who repairs each broken window with a binding, and walk toward the magician. “It belongs in the world to be used on behalf of the world,” I say.

The other magician rocks back at the force of the truth behind the words. He glares at me, waves a hand, speaks two words I don’t catch.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Charlie says. She must have caught them, or read his lips, because she walks toward the magician grimly. She can eat gods, but magic is just another energy at times and she absorbs whatever magic was about to be flung at me without trying. “Those are not words of power. Those words do not work,” she snarls, and the magician falls back from her tone.

Charlie never gets why Jay is sometimes scared of her. Some day I will remind her of this moment to help explain why. Charlie has a god inside her; she hasn’t even tried to call up its power and has terrified a new magician. Years of dealing with Jay have given the both of us an interesting skill set. If you can convince an eleven year old boy from Outside the universe with near-limitless power to not do things, cowing a new magician takes almost no effort.

“He tried to undo your telling him the truth by calling it fake news,” Charlie snaps, not looking over at me as I walk closer to her and the magician.

“Ah.” I smile at the magician, who takes a few steps back. “Please keep Jay from doing more to help the cars he’s fixing?”

Charlie nods, and heads over to find Jay. Who has stopped the cars from playing their warning alarms; two of them have racing stripes, however, probably because he asked the cars if they wanted that. At least one might be a time machine now.

“I am the wandering magician; you do not wanderer,” I say, and the magician feels the bindings holding them to his city. The power, and some of the cost of it. “And if you insist on not trying to abuse your magic, I am authorized to put a curse on you.”

“A curse.”

He’s older; it helps me decide. I reach out, borrowing power from Jay to help the magic, to make sure the magician cannot break it. The magician blinks a few seconds later, hands rising up to his face with an expresion of disbelief.

“The curse of the white beard. Go ahead: try and abuse your magic. Try and use it for personal gain, when every child is going to see you as Santa Claus.”

He runs his fingers through a beard that didn’t exist moments ago, stares down at his body. “I...”

“This is a dangerous time of year to be a magician. I think it might be best if you learn why,” I say, and I walk away before he can reply. He’s not the first magician whose arrogance I’ve destroyed with a beard, and he certainly won’t be the last.