Magi Legend

by Andrew Dobell

  “What security checks? Did I fail something?” Amanda asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

  “We’ll talk more soon. I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about,” he said, brushing off her concerns.

  Amanda frowned again. This whole thing seemed wrong. They soon reached the door and the man pulled out a key. He unlocked it easily enough and directed Amanda through to the other side. The man followed her, shutting the door behind them.

  “This way,” the man said.

  A man in an airport uniform was approaching them from the other direction. Was this one here for her as well? Amanda wondered. Glancing sideways as they set off up the hallway, she noticed that her captor was taking pains not to look at the approaching man, and in fact, seemed to be trying to hide his face, if anything.

  The airport worker was frowning at them and watched closely as they passed each other. Two steps beyond the worker, Amanda heard him speak up.

  “Hey, what are you doing back here?” he asked.

  “Just dealing with a security issue,” her captor said without stopping or looking back.

  Amanda glanced back, though and saw the man frown at them as they continued walking.

  “But security isn’t that way,” the man said.

  This really wasn’t right, Amanda thought. Something was very wrong here, so she slowed down and looked up at her captor. “What’s your name?” Amanda asked. “Who do you work for? Where are you taking me?”

  The man stopped too and looked at her through narrowed eyes that flashed with annoyance and possibly anger.

  “Fine,” the man said and reached into his inside coat pocket. She hadn’t thought to ask for I.D. while they were in public, which was bloody stupid, she thought. That should have been the first thing she should have asked for back when there were way more people about.

  The man withdrew his hand from his coat, but he wasn’t holding identification. Instead, he pulled out a handgun with a very long barrel on it. Amanda had never shot a gun in her life, even during her time in America. She just didn’t like them and had no idea what type of firearm it was. Her captor aimed the weapon at the worker and fired a single shot.

  “No!” Amanda yelled.

  She braced herself for a loud bang, but instead, the noise was more of a dull mechanical sound and surprisingly quiet. Amanda realised that the long barrel on the handgun was a silencer. For a moment, she wondered why they were called silencers when the gun wasn’t actually silent. It was quieter than usual, for sure, but not silent.

  The worker dropped to the floor. Amanda felt rooted to the spot and could only stare at the worker as he gasped for breath for a few seconds before falling still. She raised a hand to her mouth as realisation dawned.

  “You… You shot him!” she stammered.

  Her captor grabbed her by the arm and marched her over to a side door labelled maintenance. He had a face like thunder and seemed more than a little annoyed. He opened the door and looked inside. It was dark in the small room. Backing up, the man pointed the gun at Amanda. She sucked in a breath and raised her hands.

  “Put him in there,” he said.

  “What?” Amanda asked, not really registering what the man had said to her.

  “That guy, drag him into the closet. Now,” he demanded.

  Amanda looked at her captor’s gun, and then at him. He’d shot the airport worker, so he might shoot her as well. She had no choice. She kicked off her high heels and walked up to the man’s body. She’d never seen a dead body before and as she approached, she felt a little sick. Without realising it, she slowed down, delaying the moment that she’d have to touch him.

  “Hurry up,” the Italian man ordered her.

  With a gulp, she stepped up to the body and reached down, grabbing his wrists. He was a lot heavier than he looked, but she put all her weight behind it and pulled, dragging him slowly towards the door of the maintenance closet, leaving a small trail of blood in their wake. Once inside the closet, Amanda let go of the body’s wrists and took a moment to catch her breath. She felt shattered, but now she knew the truth. This man was not a part of airport security. In fact, she had no idea who he was or what he wanted with her.

  This was all very strange, but then, her barometer for what was or wasn’t strange had shifted somewhat recently.

  What she did know for sure now, though, was that she needed to get away from this man as quickly as she could. He was dangerous, and she was likely to end up dead if she wasn’t careful.

  She frowned as she realised that right at that moment, the man was nowhere to be seen. Thinking she might have an opportunity here, Amanda padded silently over to the door, stepping over the corpse as she went, and tucked herself in beside the door. She glanced down at the body again, feeling suddenly very sorry for this man and his family. But now wasn’t the time to get emotional, so she looked away and suppressed those emotions.

  Amanda balled her fists as she waited and listened.

  She heard footsteps approaching the door. He sighed and didn’t sound too happy about something—probably how long it was taking her.

  “Amanda,” he said walking up to the door. “When you’ve finished in th…” he began as he stepped into the doorway. The second he appeared and hesitated upon seeing what looked like an empty room, Amanda stepped out and punched him hard in the face.

  Her years on the street had taught her something about how to fight, and she knew how to throw a solid punch. She just hoped it was enough.

  The man dropped his gun with a metallic clatter as Amanda stepped around the corner. He took the blow well, though, and immediately went for her. This clearly wasn’t his first time getting hit. Amanda moved back, stepping nimbly over the body, but the man had forgotten about it and caught his foot on the corpse. Her captor staggered into the room and fell to his knees.

  Amanda rushed over to him and channelled all her rage into her fist as she wound it back. She might not know this man’s name, but she knew enough to know she didn’t like him. She swung her fist and smashed him in his face, noticing a crackle of blue and golden energy around her hand that had not been there a heartbeat ago.

  As her punch connected, the energy in her fist appeared to jump between them and wash over the man before fading away.

  Amanda jumped back in surprise. “What the feck?” she muttered to herself as the man dropped to the floor, his eyes rolling back into his skull. She’d seen this curious golden energy before, but this was the first time she’s seen it on or around herself.

  Feeling flustered, she wanted to run but forced herself to check on the man she’d just hit. He was unconscious. With a brief nod, Amanda stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind her. Hopping over to her shoes, she slipped them back on and regarded the bloodstain on the floor. It was a small smear, and it appeared that the Italian had made an attempt to clean it up a bit while she’d been moving the body.

  Amanda paused. Should she tell someone? Should she inform security? As she stood there thinking what to do, she heard the voice on the loudspeaker announce the last call for her flight to Ireland. Although she felt terrible for doing it, she made her choice. She headed back the way she’d come, back out into the busy terminal, and jogged up to her gate. She needed to get to Ireland. Someone else could clear up this mess. Anyway, the Italian was only unconscious and would likely wake up at some point soon. She didn’t want to be here when that happened.

  - Manhattan, New York

  Vito stood on the New York street and rubbed his face. It was still sore after that bitch had punched him in the airport. He felt incredibly frustrated by that whole affair. He’d nearly had her, but now he felt like an idiot. He hadn’t checked where she was flying to or what the name on her—no doubt fake—passport was, so he had no way of finding her that way.

  So, here he was, in the middle of New York surrounded by more infuriating Yanks, watching the girls who, according to their eyewitness, had been working the streets with Amanda
. He wasn’t sure which of them were Amanda’s friends, but he would find out, and he would make them talk.

  He was looking forward to finishing this mission as soon as possible and getting back to Rome. He despised the USA with its garish, ungodly culture. The sooner he was back in the Vatican, the better.

  Still, there was always a silver lining in every cloud, and today's would be the enjoyment of getting these girls to tell him what he needed to know. The fact that his targets were not only prostitutes, but also American ones, just made the idea even sweeter.

  If this Amanda-witch had any sense about her, she wouldn't have left a forwarding address with any of her former heretic friends after her summoning of the demon in the alleyway. But, you never knew your luck, and it would be fun finding out.

  He’d also pay a visit to the alleyway to see if there were any clues there, too. Maybe the grace of God would reveal something useful to him.

  A chance meeting

  Donegal, Ireland

  It was early July and the sun was shining through the windows of the cottage with an inviting, golden glow. She’d take a walk shortly and get some fresh air, but for now, she was just enjoying her mug of hot chocolate. She wanted to focus on the little things, the small joys in life and try to forget some of her other, larger problems.

  Not that they were problems or even concerns any more. The only issue now was, how she would move on with her life. What she’d do next. But that was a question she didn’t have an answer for.

  When she’d arrived here over a month ago, she’d found Georgina in a much worse state than she’d expected. She was a shadow of her former self and completely bedridden by then. Amanda could see that she was fading fast and wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

  Days later, she passed away. It was almost as if she’d been waiting for Amanda to come to her bedside. Georgina had told her how happy she was to have Amanda there and away from the streets. She made Amanda promise never to work the streets again, ever.

  She had the sense that Georgina felt guilty that Amanda had ended up as a working girl, but Amanda had reassured her that it was her choice and not Georgina’s. She probably would have ended up doing it anyway, or something similar, or worse. Besides, she was alive, she’d survived, and she was never going back.

  Georgina asked after Stuart and the others. Amanda had lied. She couldn’t face telling her that Stuart was dead, nor could she bring herself to tell Georgina about the strange encounters she’d experienced. It was just more stress that Georgina didn’t need. Amanda spent her time trying to keep Georgina’s spirits up and helping the nurses who visited to care for her now that she was in the final stage of her life. There was nothing that could be done. Her body was shutting down. She would die, no matter what.

  The money Georgina had gained from the inheritance paid for everything, including this cottage and her care. She was as comfortable as she could be, and Georgina had already put the remainder into Amanda’s name. Amanda could live here for as long as she wanted and never need to worry about money.

  Amanda had never found out who this long-lost family member was who had given Georgina the cottage and the money. But then, Georgina hadn’t seemed to know who it was, either. It was something of a coincidence that the cottage was here, in Donegal, just a few miles away from where Amanda had grown up in the orphanage, but life was full of coincidences that only gave you a headache if you thought about them for too long.

  The cottage felt so quiet now, out here in the countryside of Ireland, with Georgina gone. She’d been rattling around in the house for a few weeks, trying to force herself to go out, to enjoy the countryside and the weather as much as possible.

  The funeral had happened quickly and only Amanda and the nurses attended. Georgina had been cremated, as per her request. That had been a sad day. Amanda had come back to the cottage that night and cried herself to asleep. In fact, it was only in recent days that she’d started to get through a whole day without shedding a single tear.

  Taking a breath, she tried her best to push those thoughts to the back of her mind. This was her birthday, and she didn’t want to spend the day moping about. Georgina wouldn’t want that. She’d want her to have a happy day.

  She felt like she’d been upset ever since she’d arrived here, but it wasn’t doing her any good, and her friend certainly wouldn’t want her to feel this way each and every day.

  Here she was, back in Ireland, her home country, with more money than she knew how to spend, but she had no clue what she wanted to do with her life and therein lies the problem.

  Something she’d started to do each day was to exercise. It felt good, allowed her time to think, and was infinitely better than being alone in the cottage day after day. She’d taken to going for a run every day and exploring the local countryside. On one such trip, she’d found a picturesque clearing in the forest. There was something almost magical about the place. It felt like the kind of place fairies might gather, or was that her overactive imagination again?

  She didn’t care, all she knew was that she liked it and in this weather, it was the perfect sunbathing spot.

  After she’d finished her drink, she got herself up properly, pulling on her running clothes—which in this warm weather, was only a sports bra and lycra shorts with socks and running shoes—before she stepped outside.

  It was mid-morning and the sun was streaming into the valley. The cottage was close to the Blue Stack Mountains in Donegal at the bottom of a wide depression with hills on three sides. From her front door, she couldn’t even see the next closest house. A single muddy track led out of the valley with her cottage at the end of it. Beyond that, a little way up the valley, was the forest that Amanda enjoyed exploring. But before she went there, she set off on her run. She took a wide arc around the valley, running up and down the slopes, pumping her legs and feeling the burn as she jogged. Her whitewashed cottage was an idyllic looking place. L-shaped, with a thatched roof and a modest garden surrounded by a picket fence. She found it hard to believe that this was hers now, but she had the documents to prove it. She owned it. This was her home.

  Close to an hour later, as the sun climbed to its highest point, Amanda made her way to the edge of the woods and slowed to a walk before heading inside. She loved walking in here, making her way through the long grass with the dappled sunlight playing over the landscape, lighting up parts of the woods while leaving other areas in the shade. The birds sang from the tree tops and she could hear the movement of wildlife in the undergrowth, always just out of sight.

  Soon enough, she found her clearing again and stepped out from the treeline. Just inside the clearing was an old tree stump, so Amanda made her way over there and sat down. Her muscles ached, but it was a good feeling. She knew she’d worked hard and pushed herself. She closed her eyes and concentrated on slowing her breathing, forcing herself to relax.

  She pulled the air in through her nose and out through her mouth, moving the life-giving oxygen through her body, slowly and methodically.

  As she sat there, feeling relaxed and calm, her cares floating away on the light breeze that caressed her skin and pulled at the strands of her hair, she started to feel tingling around her head and neck. She got it occasionally when she was relaxed, and when she’d looked into it she found it was called Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response, or ASMR for short. It was a feeling only some people experienced when they were in a state of relaxation and it could be brought on by lots of different stimuli.

  Amanda had felt it before when she’d been in Howie’s arms watching a film, and he’d been playing with her hair, or when she’d had someone be particularly gentle with her when doing her hair or makeup. It wasn’t in the slightest bit sexual—quite the opposite. It was calming and relaxing and made her want to fall asleep.

  Opening her eyes, Amanda could make out a strange glowing golden mist, rising up from the ground and hanging in the air. She could still see the world around her, it didn’t obscure anything at all
, but it was there, as real as the tree stump she sat on.

  She’d seen it a few times recently, but never when she’d expected to. She had no idea what it was. The first few times she’d experienced it she’d been shocked and recoiled from the vision, but she knew it wasn’t anything to worry about now, so she calmly accepted it. She hoped she’d find out what it was soon, though.

  Feeling totally relaxed, Amanda stepped off the tree stump and sat herself down in the grass, pulled off her trainers and socks, and then her sports bra and shorts so she could sunbathe in only her underwear. She didn’t like tan lines, and she’d never seen anyone come up here, so she wasn’t worried about anyone seeing her topless.

  She laid in the grass and enjoyed the feeling of the sun’s heat on her skin. She turned every so often, but she must have nodded off because she suddenly woke up, positive that she’d just heard something. Propping herself up, she spotted someone else in the clearing.

  It was a man, over towards the middle, quite a distance away from her.

  At first, she was offended. She felt like this was her clearing, her secret place, but she knew that was ridiculous. This was a public space; anyone could come here. The man was going about his business and seemed to be either ignoring her, or he was unaware that she was even there. What was he doing? she thought. But then, after a few seconds, it was obvious. He was doing Tai Chi or something similar.

  As she watched, the shock of seeing someone else here faded away to be replaced with a kind of fascination. The man looked to be in his fifties and was of Chinese descent, if she had to guess. His movements were calm and precise as he slowly worked through his routine, reaching and stretching. It was incredibly graceful and utterly fascinating.