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Excerpt from The Conservation of Magic
Being so physically close to people, even Mona, made him uncomfortable, like he was being inspected—like she could see through his public disguise and read his thoughts or even catch a glimpse of his true self that he sometimes saw when he looked in the mirror.
When he opened his eyes again, she had backed away, standing with her arms crossed and her lips pursed. She wasn’t going to take another step until they had the discussion that she wanted.
The two stood motionless, locked in a face-off that he knew he had no chance of winning. A young couple swerved by them like Mona and Merrick were concrete statues set permanently in the sidewalk.
He tried to stay focused on Mona, but he couldn’t help but watch as the happy couple walked away from them, arm in arm, laughing and smiling, sneaking kisses. It wasn't possible that they were in love as much as they seemed—it didn’t happen that way in real life.
Forcing a break to their stalemate, he took Mona’s hand and led her down an older, empty side street, away from the main boulevard. She half resisted, but reluctantly followed his lead. As they continued along the cobblestone, the lampposts suddenly went out, as another crack of lightning sounded, and they were left in the darkness of the night, illuminated only by the moon.
She stopped again and forced a smile that did little to cover her frustration. Her voice was level and calm.
“I’m not sure what’s going on up there in that head of yours, but I’m not going to beg. You have to open up to me, Merrick. I love you, but I have my limits.”
“I like you more than anyone I’ve ever dated before,” he said, “and I want to share with you…some of the things I’ve been feeling lately, but…”
She stared up at him. The breeze tussled her hair as she waited in silence. The word like was not the one she had wanted to hear, and he knew it.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could say a word, a beefy hand shot out from behind him and clamped down hard over his mouth. A large man started to drag Merrick down a narrow side alley, while another man pulled Mona along behind them by the back of her hair.
Merrick tried to shake loose, his arms flailing. His attacker spun around and pushed him into the brick wall. The back of his head made a wet smacking noise.
The other man pinned Mona to his chest with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. Merrick saw Mona’s eyes go wide with fright.
He redoubled his struggle, but a fist slammed into his stomach so hard that his feet lost contact with the ground, and he couldn’t breathe. He sank down to the cobblestoned street on his knees, sucking at the air around him.
As hard as he tried, he couldn’t make his lungs expand, and something sharp inside kept sticking him with each failed attempt. He wiped blood from his eyes and lost his balance, almost toppling. If he didn’t get a full breath soon, he was going to pass out.
The men were bragging about what they were going to do to Mona.
Still on his knees, he tried to pull out his wallet with a shaking hand. Maybe if he offered them money, they would leave her alone—leave them both alone.
Before he could force his hand to move, the man kicked him in the jaw, knocking his glasses to the ground amidst a rain of blood.
Merrick struggled to prop himself up, but he slipped on his own blood and hit his head on the stone street. Black flecks swarmed at the edges of his vision, and he knew that he was close to unconsciousness. His mouth filled with the pungent taste of copper while his attacker rolled him onto his stomach and took his wallet.
Struggling to find Mona, he could only see blurs of dark colors moving in jerky patterns, but the sounds that came from her painted a picture that was all too vivid for him. In his mind, he could see her frightened eyes peeking over the top of a brutish hand.
The thought of her being raped or hurt in any way by these animals welled up inside him, turning his despair to rage. He had to help her, but he had no strength. If only the men would just go away or, even better, die.
The stone pendant that hung around his neck burned again like it was made of searing coals. He reached for the stone automatically but stopped short as a combination of vibrations began to grow inside him—a humming so low that it shifted his internal organs and threatened to shake him to pieces.
Electricity crackled all around him, pulsing in time with the sound that rattled his core.
His ears popped, as every note of the all-engulfing chord was amplified ten-fold. He raised his hands to his head and knew that he was screaming in pain even though he could not hear his own cries.
His world had turned into one of pure sound.
Suddenly, in mid-howl, the vibration ceased, everything around him went silent, and the air reeked of sulfur.
He stood up on shaky legs, able to breath now but falling back against the brick wall, blinking, trying to clear his sight enough to find Mona.
As his hearing gradually returned, so did his balance and his vision. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. He could see the details of the alley better than when he had been wearing his glasses earlier—so much so, that his surroundings were surreal in their crispness.
A few feet away, Mona lay motionless on the ground, surrounded by a pile of restaurant trash. He moved closer and knelt beside her.
He spoke her name, first in a whisper and then louder, but she did not move.
He reached out to feel her neck for a pulse. It was there, but weak. Looking down at her still form, he realized somewhere in the back of his mind that he was no longer in any sort of pain—that he, in fact, felt physically remarkable.
The only thing that hurt was the sight of Mona.
He lifted his head as he heard the slapping of feet running away at the far end of the alley. A fleeing man scrambled over a tall wooden fence and disappeared into the darkness.
The wind turned direction, carrying with it the foul odor of burning hair and flesh. Merrick retched twice. Several feet away, the thug who had held Mona now lay motionless on his back. His arm jutted out from his body at an impossible angle, and a wisp of dark smoke floated up from his chest.
Certain that the man was dead, Merrick turned his back on him and brushed Mona’s hair from her eyes. He whispered her name again, but she still did not move.
NOTE FROM MIKE
Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed The Applicant, please leave a review. Even if it’s only a line or two, it would make all the difference and would be very much appreciated.
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Also be sure to follow Ohman, Cara, and Chris in the full-length novel, The Conservation of Magic. The second full-length novel in the series, The Equilibrium of Magic, is also available.
Thank you for reading! - Mike
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Special thanks to my mom for her keen eye and for her help fixing the rough draft of this story.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mike lives in the Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C. with his dog, Rocky. Mike has been a fine arts painter, a freelance illustrator, and has co-owned two Internet security patents. He is an avid runner and active in his local running club. He does not sleep nearly enough.
Mike is also the author of:
- The Conservation of Magic (contemporary epic fantasy adventure novel-Book 1 of the Science of Magic series)
- Running Club (dystopian sci fi short story/novelette)
- The Gate (fantasy horror short story/novelette)
- Whittier (supernatural suspense thriller-Book 1 of the Trent Walker series)
- Under Vegas (supernatural suspense thriller-Book 2 of the Trent Walker series)
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The Applicant Page 7