The Magician's Blood

by Linda G. Hill

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Is there a certain point on the ladder where you need to be when your body meets up with itself?” She looked to Stephen for the answer.

  He nodded. “At the same place you came apart. If you missed that point …”

  “What?” both women asked.

  “Let’s just say it could get complicated.”

  Margaret rolled her eyes and turned to go. “I have press to talk to,” she said over her shoulder, and she disappeared around the corner.

  Herman turned and faced Stephen. “Two questions: why didn’t you look up at me when you spoke to me on the ladder?”

  “Where would I have looked? At your real face or the face that everyone else saw?”

  With that, Herman felt her nausea return and she vowed to herself to devise a way to keep track before the next performance.

  “And what did you do to me when I got off the ladder?” The thought of it sent a shudder down her spine. His ability to attract members of the opposite sex was part of his innate magic; Herman had discovered this about him early on in their acquaintance, and though she trusted him completely, it was something she was still coming to terms with.

  He smiled. “I brought you back to me.”

  “Is that part of the connection you insist on having with all your assistants?” she asked, referring to the fact that every one of his assistants had also been girlfriends.

  “No, I can do that to anyone. I simply don’t … do it to just anyone. At least I haven’t in a long time.”

  At the sound of a woman squealing, he turned toward the backstage entrance. Margaret had returned, and with her stood a tiny, plump red-haired lady in a long black dress. She ran to Stephen with her arms held out. Herman watched, taken aback, as her boyfriend rushed forward and scooped the woman up in his arms and spun her around.

  “Bryce,” he exclaimed. “Where did you come from?”

  “I’ve been living here in Ottawa for a year,” she said as he set her back on her feet. “I saw you’d be here, and I couldn’t resist.”

  Stephen turned to Herman and said to the other woman, “I’d like you to meet my assistant and the love of my life. Bryce, this is Herman.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Herman said, smiling.

  “Bryce and I knew each other in university,” Stephen went on. “She and Margaret and I were in a few classes together.”

  Bryce reached out and placed her hand on Herman’s arm with a feather-light touch. “It’s so lovely to meet you.” She turned to Margaret. “And I’m amazed the two of you are still together!”

  “Yeah, well, some habits die hard,” Margaret said with a smile. “Stephen’s one hell of a habit to kick.”

  “Listen, why don’t Herman and I get out of our costumes, and we all go out for a drink,” Stephen suggested.

  Margaret gave him a frown. “I’ve got work to do. But you guys go have fun. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gave Bryce a hug and said goodbye, then left.

  “I’ll have to bow out too,” Bryce said. “But I want to ask before I go—why is Margaret still around?”

  Herman was surprised by the bluntness of the question, and Stephen looked confused.

  “She’s my agent,” he said. “And my best friend.”

  Bryce said to Herman, “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Yeah. Shouldn’t I be?”

  Bryce ignored the question, oddly, and moved on as though the exchange hadn’t happened. “Now that you’re back in the country, maybe we can get together,” she said to Stephen.

  “I’m afraid we’re heading out to B.C. soon. But it was great to see you again. I’ll be sure to get in touch when our tour is over.” He bent almost double for another hug.

  Bryce whispered something into Stephen’s ear before she let him go. She said goodbye to them both and walked out through the stage door with a wave.

  “Dare I ask what she said to you?” Herman asked with one eyebrow raised.

  “She congratulated me.”

  “For your performance?”

  “No. For finding you.”

  * * *

  Herman woke to a fine slice of sunlight shining on her cheek. She’d been dreaming about the conversation they’d had with Bryce the evening before, which was something to contemplate; since she met Stephen, her dreams usually had meaning. She rolled over to face him, nuzzling into the back of his neck with her nose. His natural scent awakened her desire. She reached over his hip to grasp his morning erection, and he moaned and shifted onto his back. Just as their lips met, there was a sharp rap on the door.

  “Room service already?” she groaned.

  “It sounds like Margaret.” Stephen climbed out of bed and vanished down the hallway to the door. Moments later she heard it open. She assumed it was Margaret—she didn’t think he’d open the door to anyone else wearing nothing but a hard-on.

  She reached for a t-shirt and slipped it over her head, somewhat annoyed at his lack of modesty, even though Margaret had seen him in that state many times before Herman came along. They’d never been more than friends, but their time spent together years ago in a witches’ coven, where they performed sexual rituals, had made them friends with benefits. Stephen returned, however, wearing the pair of loose, shiny black track pants he sometimes slipped on to lounge around in.

  “How did you …” she asked staring at them, sure he hadn’t taken them out of the drawer.

  “It’s magic.” He smiled, palms shaking in the air.

  Margaret followed him into the room and dropped a newspaper on the bed. “You should read your review.”

  Herman felt her heart leap in her throat. She knew it. She’d ruined the show. “Oh no, it’s bad, isn’t it.”

  “Not at all,” Margaret said with a flick of her wrist and a smile. Stephen picked up the paper and dropped it again at the sound of a second knock. Breakfast had arrived.

  The trio ate pastries and drank coffee while Stephen read and re-read the article; the women sat on the end of the bed beside him, looking over his shoulders. The show had everything, the paper read: comedy, drama, horror, and a spectacular ending. Stephen was praised for his “grace under pressure” when something obviously went wrong. The show was a hit, the reporter said, warmly appreciated by both himself and the entire audience. The article ended saying that the reporter looked forward to The Great Dagmaru’s performance in Ottawa next March at the Annual Magician’s Conference.

  “People love it when mistakes happen,” Stephen said. He drained his cup of coffee, placed it back in the saucer with a clink, and looked at Margaret. “You talked to the reporter after the show, didn’t you.”

  “Damned right I did. I batted my eyelashes a few times, and what you see is what you got.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “What are you going to do when I finally get tired of getting your ass out of trouble?”

  “But it was my fault that the show wasn’t perfect,” Herman said. She turned to Stephen. “It’s not fair that you should be the one in trouble, and Margaret shouldn’t have to get you out of it.”

  Stephen put his hand on hers. “Don’t blame yourself, my love. I should be in control at all times. If anyone is responsible, it’s me.” Turning to Margaret, he said, “And to answer your question, I’ll probably get my ass out of this business. I’m afraid you may be irreplaceable.” He kissed Margaret on the top of the head as he passed her to go to the bathroom.

  “He’s such a suck-up,” Margaret said when the door closed behind him. Herman nodded in agreement. She returned her half-eaten croissant to her plate and scooted back to lean against the headboard. Margaret joined her, coffee cup in hand.

  “You must be looking forward to seeing your mom,” Margaret said. She’d been as shocked as anyone when she heard about Herman’s discovery of her family’s whereabouts. There was no love lost between Margaret and George, either.

  Herman n
odded again. “We’ll go around lunchtime. Are you going back home to Kingston right away?”

  “I was going to, but I can hang out a bit and travel with you guys. I won’t be seeing you for a while.”

  “What will you do while we’re on our mini-vacation?” Herman asked.

  “I’m meeting Mark later. We’re catching a plane to Vegas tomorrow.”

  “That sounds like fun. It’ll be good for the two of you to get away for a while.”

  “Yeah, it’s been years since I was there last. And I can’t believe how much I’ve missed him, even though I’ve only been here a few days. But you know what new relationships are like, right?”

  Herman smiled. “Oh yeah.”

  “You guys are going camping on the island for two weeks?” Margaret asked, referring to the Dagmar’s private getaway on Lake Ontario, adjacent to their property.

  “Twelve days,” Herman said. Her frown must have told Margaret what was on her mind.

  “Nina’s not scheduled to work at the house until you come back.”

  “But she’ll be all smug and pregnant still.”

  “It won’t be forever.” Margaret put her arm around Herman. “No relationship is perfect, and yours and Stephen’s started out spectacularly unperfect. But once Nina has her baby and her hysterectomy, you can get on with your lives.”

  Indeed, there was no escaping Nina Curry and her family for the time being: she and her mother, Lotta, were servants in Stephen’s house. The Currys lived in a house on a parcel of land on the Dagmar’s property. Nina’s father, Hawkins, worked as the administrator for the estate, and Reed, her half-brother, looked after the horses. All were bound by a curse to remain in servitude of the Dagmars—even Reed, who was the product of Lotta’s affair with Tarmien Dagmar, Stephen’s father—until there was no chance that a Curry could be born whose blood wasn’t mixed with a Dagmar’s.

  “I have to keep reminding myself that it’s no more Nina’s fault than it is Stephen’s that they had to …” It was no good. She still couldn’t say the words out loud. Make a baby together to satisfy the terms of a sick curse placed on both families generations ago—a curse that could have disastrous, perhaps deadly, consequences should they try to break its rules.

  “But no one can blame you for feeling the way you do about it. I’m proud of you, and happy for both of you that you chose to stay with Stephen and get past it. Just do your best.” She squeezed Herman’s shoulder in support.

  “Anyway, I’m sure Stephen will make sure Nina is closely watched while you’re on the island,” Margaret continued.

  “Maybe I’ll ask him to bring all the boats with us.”

  “Or he could just lock them up.”

  “That would make more sense, I guess,” Herman said. “Stephen was right about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You are irreplaceable.” Herman rested her head on Margaret’s shoulder.

  “Aww.” The older woman pulled her closer.

  Just then, Stephen walked out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.

  “Hey, you two,” he said, smiling. “None of that unless I get to watch.”

  Herman whipped a pillow at him.

  “Want to join me in the shower?” he asked, holding a hand out to Herman.

  “Okay, I’m outta here,” Margaret said as she got off the bed and returned her cup to the table. “Three train tickets to Kingston for later this afternoon?”

  “Text me with the time,” Stephen said without looking at her.

  “Okay, see ya.” She left with a wave.

  The moment the door closed, Stephen dropped his towel, plucked Herman off the bed, and led her to their watery enclosure of love.

  CHAPTER 4

  The nursing home was nestled into the corner of a large parking lot and surrounded by a few mature trees, making the mid-century building look like it had been planted amidst an existing forest.

  Herman had called to make arrangements to see her mother after lunch. They were met at the entrance to the secure facility by Doreen Anderson’s nurse.

  “Your mother goes in and out of lucidity quite suddenly at times,” said the petite, older woman. She wore a traditional white uniform and a name tag reading Mary Holloman, RN. “She’s been better since she arrived and we can monitor her meds. At home she either forgot to take them or she was overdosing.”

  Herman stared at the gray floor tiles, feeling guilty again.

  Stephen placed his arm around her shoulders. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

  “That’s true. Not unless you were with her 24/7,” Nurse Holloman agreed as they followed her down a pale pink corridor. “She needs constant supervision. And here we lock up the medication.

  “Anyway, she’s in and out. Unfortunately she seems a bit out of it today. She keeps talking about magic—it’s one of the indications that she’s exiting reality for a while. But you can see for yourselves. She was quite happy to hear that you were bringing your boyfriend with you.” The nurse stared at Stephen’s face and blinked a few times. “Your mom’s looking forward to your visit.”

  Nurse Holloman stopped at the second-to-last door on the left and applied some hand sanitizer from a dispenser. Herman and Stephen followed suit. She opened the door a crack.

  “Doreen, your visitors are here.”

  “Come in,” called a familiar voice.

  “Mama!” Herman said, stepping close to the bed. Doreen held out her arms and Herman hugged her gratefully. She felt thinner, though she was still solid, and her hair had more gray than before—but she smelled the same.

  “Herman, how have you been?” She smiled politely, making Herman wonder if she had only remembered her daughter’s name because she’d been told who to expect.

  “I’m fine, Mama. This is Stephen,” she said, looking up at him. “He’s my …”

  “Magician,” her mother finished for her.

  There was a quiet pause.

  “You can leave us alone, Mary,” Doreen said.

  “Call me if you need me.” She showed Herman where to find the button to ring the nurses’ desk on her way out.

  “You’re Stephen Dagmar, aren’t you?” Doreen said, as soon as the door closed. She pulled her floral cotton robe tighter over her bosom and folded her arms in front of her. “I’ve seen your picture. You’re even prettier in person.”

  “Thank you,” Stephen said with a smile, bowing slightly.

  She turned to Herman. “You found him. It was bound to happen. It was your destiny.”

  “Why do you say that?” Herman asked. It was the most lucid she had seen her mother in years. She hoped it would last long enough to get some answers.

  “This is why your father didn’t want you to know what he did. What he is. About Mona Lisa. He didn’t want you to start looking for whatever it was that he passed on to you. Not Chad, he doesn’t have anything of it, but you … The ghost of Aunt Aggie is only the tip of the iceberg. It’s why we named you ‘Herman.’

  “But now that you have Mr. Dagmar …” She looked up at Stephen again. “Please sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

  Stephen sat in a chair beside the bed as he was told.

  She turned to Herman again.

  “He can show you,” she told her daughter.

  “Who can show me what? And what do you mean, that’s why you named me Herman?”

  “Mr. Dagmar here. He can find what you can do. Your own powers. He can help it out of you. If you want to know. Looking at you, I’d say he already has.”

  Although she was desperate for answers, Herman forced herself to let her mother focus on one question at a time, lest she slip away. “Should I pursue my powers, Mama?”

  “Your father always called them a curse,” her mother said.

  I hate that word, Herman thought.

  “Think carefully before you go down that road,” she advised Herman. “I think your father was ri
ght, making you wait until you were older.” She flicked her eyes in Stephen’s direction. “Has he been treating you well?”

  “Very well,” Herman said, taking her mother’s hand.

  “He looks like a good man, I’d argue with George over that one.”

  Herman glanced over at Stephen, who looked abashed. He shrugged.

  “I’ve heard enough rants about Mr. Dagmar to last a lifetime.” Doreen smiled; it was the first genuine smile Herman could remember seeing from her mother in a long time.

  “I love you, Mama,” Herman said.

  “I love you too, Herman. Tell Chad when you see him again that I love him, too. And your father. For all his faults.” Doreen looked down at her hand in Herman’s. “His work is important to him. We decided together that I should come here. Don’t hold it against him.”

  “I won’t,” Herman said, though it wasn’t a promise she thought she could keep.

  “You didn’t find Mr. Dagmar by accident,” Doreen said, looking at Stephen. “He knew. He knew.”

  “Who knew?”

  “George knew. It’s why he hates him so much; because he was going to take you,” she looked at Herman. “He was going to take you to the magic.”

  Herman felt her mother’s agitation. “It’s okay, Mama.”

  “And he made you into a woman, didn’t he? That will make a difference to you. You’ll start to see changes in yourself. Your father knew …”

  Herman could see the downward spiral coming, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  “Mrs. Anderson,” Stephen said. She looked at him as though she was surprised to see him. “Doreen. I promise I will take good care of Herman.” He spoke calmly and evenly. Hypnotically. “I love her, and I will protect her with my life, for as long as I live.”

  “I know,” Doreen said, tears coming to her eyes. “I know, and thank you.”

  She turned back to Herman and squeezed her hand. “Go now. I love you. Go.”

  “Okay, Mama,” Herman said, trying to smile.

  “Goodbye, Herman,” her mother said happily, turning to fluff up her pillow. In the few steps it took them to reach the door, it seemed she had already forgotten they were there.