Messing Up Magic

by Winnie Winkle

  “I am sorry,” she said, placing one taloned foot in front of the other and beginning her twirl.

  Zayn watched, confused as she turned to smoke, then back to herself. Grabbing him, she held his wings closed and twirled again.

  They were outside Magic, New Mexico. This is familiar. I’ve been here before. At least I thought so. Why can’t I remember who I am?

  Haseya released him, and Zayn pushed himself to shift, becoming a man as Haseya placed a foot forward. He kissed her as she turned, a trail of smoke on his lips as she vanished, leaving his arms empty.

  Zayn, the big strong Djinn, the shape-shifting badass genie Zayn, the thousands of years of women-having Zayn, the owner of the night, the day, and the time between Zayn, sat down, howled, and ugly-cried like a besotted teen. His heart blew into a million pieces, stuck in the space of time.

  3

  “Must have been one hell of a night,” Theo drawled, rummaging behind the seat of his truck, then tossing a pair of sweatpants at 6’8” Zayn, who pulled them up over his long, hard-muscled thighs with a snap. “Mind telling me how you vanished and come back buck naked?”

  Theo didn’t mention the tear stains. Zayn was big and Theo didn’t need a fight, he needed answers.

  “Do I know you?”

  “Oh, great,” Theo muttered. Louder, he answered, “Yes, you do, and I can take you back to your place. Want a ride?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Theo. I’m the Sheriff around here. You’re Zayn, and you live in a town called Magic, New Mexico, and have for a long time. I reckon it’ll come back.”

  Zayn climbed into the truck, and Theo headed back towards town. He planned to stop at Topper’s first. She was, well, interesting. As in, powerful, sassy witch interesting. Her help would be handy in sorting out Zayn’s brain.

  “This is my house?” Zayn asked, looking around at the wind chimes on the welcoming porch. The house beyond, painted in bright colors and symbols, looked like a sixties throwback.

  “Nope. This here is Topper’s place. Headed here to see her when I found you. Official business. Set yourself on the porch. You’ve met Topper, maybe you’ll remember her.”

  Zayn settled on the rail of the shady porch, leaning his chiseled back up against a pillar. Tapping two long fingers on the kitchen door, Theo let himself in.

  “Topper, I need help. Zayn got into a mess last night, think it was alien-related, and they zapped him into next week. No clue who he is, sitting there in his birthday suit, and can’t remember what happened. Zayn has information about who is snooping around in his scrambled brain. Care to lend a hand?”

  Topper’s hair, bright pink today, framed an amused look. Compared to Theo and Zayn, she was trim and tiny. Somewhere in her fifties, she bounded through life with an attitude and feistiness of a far younger spirit. Topper exuded curiosity and loved with interest. Theo thought her unique in a town full of unusual.

  “Found him naked? Well, I’m sorry I missed that bit of fun. Sure, let me sit a spell with him and I’ll see what he needs.”

  Her hand waved towards the kitchen and a plate of cookies and a pitcher of fresh-brewed tea zoomed from their respective spots. Topper carried them outside through a door that opened itself. Theo followed with three glasses of ice that appeared, floating in front of him until he grabbed them. Zayn, staring across the desert, didn’t turn until Topper greeted him with the offer of a cookie. Belly perking up, she had his full attention.

  “Do you recognize me?” Topper asked, peering at a munching Zayn.

  He cocked his head, eyebrows wrinkling in confusion, and she laughed. Topper twirled a finger and her hair turned purple, the color it was when she last saw Zayn a month before. Recognition flickered across his eyes.

  “Stunned, and a recent memory wipe,” Topper turned away from Zayn, speaking to Theo in a low voice. “Djinns are tricky, but I don’t think he knows what he’s capable of while he’s in this state. I can help. I’ll have him back to being a pain in your butt in no time flat.”

  Topper murmured a spell under her breath, restoring Zayn’s wiped memory, disturbing nothing recent. Zayn blinked as a light switched on in his brain.

  “Zayn, I need information. Who zapped you? What are they up to? Where did you go? Did they take you with them?” Theo leaned in, ready for answers.

  “Haseya!” Zayn hollered, shifting to an eagle and flapping off the porch rail, heading back towards the hill of rock.

  “That was unhelpful. Typical.” Theo grabbed a few cookies. “Thanks for getting that cantankerous Djinn back to his normal cooperative self.”

  “Anytime, Theo,” Topper said, arching her brow and shooting him a saucy look. “You can come play lawman on my porch whenever you’d like.”

  Theo picked up his sweatpants and trotted back to his truck, a grin playing with the corners of his mouth. Topper wasn’t his age, but she was still a fine-looking woman, bold, savvy, and amused with the world.

  Another time. I have an eagle to track. One who’ll need pants.

  Haseya lay next to her fire as her spirit folded into itself.

  “Am I dying? It this my time?”

  In her heart, she knew this wasn’t death, but a choice. She assembled a bowl of specific leaves and added them to her fire, filling her hut with aromatic smoke. Silent, she watched the pictures in the smoke assemble, waver, and drift, replaced with new pictures.

  Here was herself as a child, healing her first bird. There she was with her mother, crying because she did not understand what she’d done. She’d become a bird to heal the bird, without thinking. The stern faces, calling her to choose and lay down the path of the Skinwalker; their disapproval frightened her. Did they not understand she loved the light of being a healer? She was tiny, six-years-old, an antelope in a circle of coyote faces.

  “I did not understand this was the way of the witch,” she told her fire. “Once the bird told me of its pain, I could heal because I could be like the bird, know of the bird, and pull from my own bird body to heal it.”

  The fire pictures showed her mother, kneeling, begging her to use the plants, to never call the animal itself to her, to never make the change.

  “There is no light in the Skinwalker, Haseya, they are darkness and despair. We turn from the darkness as healers, we seek the light of love for our Mother, the Earth, and those who dwell within her beauty.”

  “I promise, Mother.”

  She meant it, too. Haseya studied the ways of the plants, helping each member of the earth be well until it was their time to leave for the spirit world. She spent each sun-filled hour in study, learning at a rate that pleased to borderline astounded the elders. Haseya spoke to no one of the dreams that overtook her in the night, and the teaching she received while walking in the dreamworld.

  “It was like being two different children,” she murmured. “I did not want to be a Skinwalker, but I was one from birth, taught that witches are dark, scary, and hurting of the people and animals of the earth. It was impossible to be both light and dark and be Navajo.”

  The fire picture shifted to the reckoning where two of the oldest and most revered women in the tribe laid their accusations out for the elders.

  “Haseya,” the oldest one said, “is both light in the ability to heal, but despite that, is a Skinwalker. She leaves her body in the night in the form of an owl and flies beyond our seeing.”

  “She has tried to remain in the light, and this is her true heart,” the other woman spoke up, “but we say here, to all Navajo, that she cannot stop being who she is.”

  Haseya looked across at her Mother’s stoic face. She must have seen, but her love and belief for Haseya gave her the hope she could dwell in both. It was not to be. After a passionate discussion, the elders rendered her verdict.

  “Haseya, whose name means She Rises, you are banished from our Nation. We will not destroy you; we will allow you to exist as both Skinwalker and Healer as you were born to be. But, Haseya,
you are no longer Navajo. The dark cannot dwell in our Nation. If you accept this, you must live without a mate, never make a child. If you vow to heal, you may dwell in her spaces beyond and protect the earth in your way.”

  “I so vow.” Expecting death, the council handed her life. Eyes cast downward, Haseya left the council, took up her medicine bag, and walked into the night. She would never return.

  “I am capable of darkness,” she admitted, seeing the picture rise of the massacre of her people and her own wrath against the white and Mexican men who slaughtered the innocents, feeling once again her smoke slicing through their hearts, dropping them from horses and laying them there for the vultures. “I killed for twenty years, sweeping through the camps of men, killing any who stepped from the safety of their fire.”

  It was only when they gathered her people, stuffed them into a space in New Mexico and made them stay put, victims of the white man’s bold and naïve belief that the earth had borders, that she stopped her murderous spree. Haseya sighed at these stupid humans who believed the Mother’s bounty had walls.

  After her rage cooled, she entered a self-imposed exile, staying in the desert, avoiding human contact, healing the earth and the animals. At one point a call came, reaching her across the line of time, telling a story of a haven for the magical. Haseya turned the story over in her mind many times. She was a Skinwalker, welcome nowhere, feared by the Nation, a killer of men, a conundrum of purpose, alone and barren by choice.

  No good can come of this call.

  Decision made, the song of Magic, New Mexico slipped away unheeded.

  The last picture in her fire was the cat-man, fighting to hold her as she drifted into smoke. With a sob, Haseya kicked the log, sending the picture to the sky while her traitorous heart broke.

  4

  Cloaked, Moku and Andok headed down the ramp, arguing.

  “This grid is huge,” Moku grumbled. “I suspect Slodoon doubled it after learning you didn’t scan that predator. Should I assign you three-quarters of the work? Seven of this planet’s days to scan this space means we won’t see a sleep pod this entire mission.”

  “I couldn’t lie,” Andok said in frustration.

  Moku slid an eye, he had three, to Andok, taking in the slumped shoulders of his Junior Scientist. “Andok, what is our mission?”

  “We seek energy signatures that register as both solid and vapor within a single entity.”

  “Remember, anything solid, anything vapor, scan it. Don’t let your expectations cloud the mission. You made a mistake. If we find what we’re looking for, the mistake won’t matter.”

  Andok straightened and nodded. “Thank you, Moku. I needed reminding.”

  “We were all Junior Scientists once,” the Senior Scientist said, with a small smile. “Even Slodoon.”

  “I need to talk to you, Zayn,” Theo shouted at the eagle perched on the top of the rocky hill. At least, he hoped it was Zayn. Damned Djinns. “I brought pants.”

  The eagle lifted, soaring in a slow circle, once, then twice around the hill, before landing a few feet from Theo, who tossed the sweatpants as Zayn shifted back to human.

  “Thanks,” Zayn muttered.

  Keeping Djinn’s cocks covered seems to be my entire job description these days. “We had visitors last night,” Theo said. “Alien. Did you see them?”

  “No, I was close though. I could smell them. I’ll recognize that scent.”

  “Can you remember anything?”

  I remember everything about her.

  “They hit me with a stunner, direct to the head. If I’d been an actual cat, I’d be dead. I don’t think they know much about Earth. Once they kill a few things, they will realize I was not the norm,” Zayn said, thinking aloud.

  “Perfect,” Theo said. “That’s attention Magic doesn’t need. I plan to do a flyover tonight, see if I can spot a new landing spot for their ship, or verify they’ve left, but I doubt we’ll be that lucky. Care to join me?”

  “Alright. Sundown. Here.”

  If it kept his mind from blowing apart, it sounded good to Zayn. I need to think. How did she cross the interdimensional plane? I thought only Djinn could do that. Haseya is different. She is not Djinn. I don’t think she knows what I am capable of. Hell, to be fair, I didn’t remember what I was either after that alien episode. She thinks I won’t remember her, but crossing the line is child’s play for me. I was built for it. How can I get her back?

  Theo looked at Zayn, thoughts racing. Something else is up with him. He’s rattled, and I’ve never seen this Djinn as anything other than an arrogant, overconfident jerk. He moves through the world like he owns it. Now, he’s the poster boy for perplexed.

  “You sure you’re OK?” Theo asked, ready to move fast if the Djinn turned on him.

  “Yup. See you tonight.”

  The sweatpants flopped to the dirt as the eagle rose, higher and higher, circling the skies. Theo threw them behind the seat and climbed into his truck, shaking his head.

  “That was downright cordial, for Zayn. He is definitely not back to normal. At all.”

  Theo rolled his truck to a halt, stepping out into the cloud of dust and stripping, throwing the clothes on the truck seat. Naked, he stepped away from the truck, transforming as he moved. His wings pulled from his shoulder blades, feeling, as always, like an itch finally scratched. His neck lengthened, curving as his snout grew, with little puffs of smoke lifting away from large yellow eyes, now able to see everything for miles. Scales rippled across his skin, as his spine flexed, adding vertebrate extending to his spiked tail. Growing the tail is the best part. Once that counterbalance is in place, I’m unstoppable.

  Theo exhaled, forming the fog that would shield Zayn, in whatever form he chose and his own dragon form, from any prying eyes and scanners.

  “Ow!”

  “Zayn? Where are you? What are you?”

  “I’m a Djinn, dumb ass. I’m smoke. Stop whacking me with your stupid tail.”

  “The hell? Be something easy to see.”

  “Nah, smoke is better tonight. You flyover everything you have cover for, and I’ll do the rest.”

  “I don’t want to engage these Aliens, Zayn. I need to figure out their intentions. Can you stay in that lane?”

  “Yeah, I can, unless they try to zap me. Then I’m gonna mess them up.”

  “I can live with that. Just don’t kill them. Dead guys can’t say who sent them or why. Useful stuff to know if I’m taking care of Magic.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Hero. I hear you. See you before sunrise.”

  The smoke thinned as Zayn lifted, heading south. With a heavy whomp from his wings, Theo rose, hidden in his fog, and began a methodical grid search.

  “Moku! Look at these readings. I am picking up a vapor with real potential!”

  Moku reached for the recorder, his hand uncloaked.

  Zayn watched, amused, drifting around them as they clicked and chittered. Zayn noticed a hand, long-fingered, pass something to the other one. They are wearing special clothes to keep themselves hidden. How about I mess that up?

  Zayn drifted to the ground, gathering sands to create a dust devil. A little smile crossed his face as he upped his vibration, laughing at the reaction by the aliens to their recorder, then using the high vibration to compress the sand within the whirling devil into tiny diamonds. With a flick, he sent the dust devil into the creatures, covering their cloaks in sparkling dust.

  Hide from that.

  He watched them try to brush each other off with little luck as he drifted skyward. They turned to the north, heading, he supposed, to their ship. Zayn followed, seeing Theo’s fog ahead. This is fun. Looky what I found, Hero.

  From his vantage point, Theo watched the two glittery aliens scampering to the ship he’d located. Looks like Zayn’s been playing. At least they aren’t dead. I reckon I’ve been playing too.

  The two Aliens skittered to a stop outside their ship’s hatch, welded shut. Dragon fire. It’s a thing
. You won’t be getting that open anytime soon.

  “Good evening,” Theo drawled as the aliens whipped around at the sound of his voice. “I’m the law here. If you shoot at me, there will be consequences you won’t care for.”

  “Moku, what do we do?”

  “Shhhh. Say nothing. We must act like we don’t understand and learn as much as we can. Keep the recorder hidden in your cloak.”

  In silence, the aliens looked at Theo.

  “Y’all look real pretty in your sparkly gowns,” Theo continued. “Time to come along with me, and we’ll have a nice chat.”

  “I’m getting a Smoke energy above and this Solid registers an odd reading,” Andok murmured. “Preparing a containment chamber.”

  Zayn slipped into Andok’s cloak, made only his hands solid and tipped the box towards Andok and Moku, pressing the button as Theo stepped forward. A blinding flash erupted as two cloaks fluttered to the ground in a sparkling finale.

  “You’re welcome,” Zayn’s laugh boomed from his seat on top of the ship. “They were about to box your butt like a steer in a chute.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In the box. Check under their ball gowns.”

  Theo picked up the glittering cloaks, a flashing box, and the recorder. “You mind? I need to reopen this ship.”

  “Not at all. Want me to bring you your jeans? Seems only fair.” Zayn laughed as he jumped from the ship, shifting. Theo swallowed at the silverback gorilla staring at him. Djinns are happiest when they unnerve a human. Sheesh. Good thing I’m half-dragon.

  “No pants necessary. I’ll fly back and get them once I finish here.” Handing the gorilla the items, he watched him take off in a three-legged lope towards town, holding on to the boxed aliens and their gear in one huge hand. Shifting back to his dragon form, Theo released a stream of fire, unsealing the hatch of the ship.

  “Time to open a can of worms.”