The Magician's Blood

by Linda G. Hill

“It’s time to get dressed,” he said to her quietly.

  Silently, obediently, she began to search for her clothes. Once dressed, she sat with her hands folded in her lap. Margaret obeyed as well.

  “What are you, a fucking woman whisperer?” George asked.

  Herman had almost forgotten he was there. Stephen ignored him.

  “Where do you live?” he asked the woman. She opened her mouth, but Margaret answered.

  “I can bring her to my room.”

  “Are you sure? I can help you find someone less carnivorous.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Stephen leaned back and put his arm around Herman. She lifted her leg over his and straddled his lap, facing him. Palms on her cheeks, he kissed her.

  “I just want to be alone with you,” she said, feeling exhausted, fed up with the world, and ready to go home.

  “Soon, my love,” he whispered.

  She curled up on his lap and began to doze.

  When they arrived at the hotel, Margaret and her new friend sprinted out of the car and straight into the building.

  “Will your limo take me to my hotel?” George asked.

  “No, you can stay here,” Stephen said. “I’ll get you a room.”

  “But …”

  “No buts. I want to talk to you first thing in the morning. You can go to your own place after that.”

  “As long as you’re paying, I don’t give a shit.”

  Stephen made the arrangements at the front desk and they walked to the elevator. Once inside, George turned to Stephen. “Why don’t we talk tonight?”

  “Because Herman’s tired, and I’m going to put her to bed.”

  Herman expected her father to say something derogatory at Stephen’s deliberate choice of words, but he stayed silent. When the elevator stopped on George’s floor, he looked up at Stephen once more. “What room are you in?”

  “Don’t call us, George, we’ll call you.”

  “Goodnight, Dad,” Herman said. She saw him wave as the door slid shut.

  * * *

  Herman’s nightmare closely resembled the scene she had witnessed on the dance floor, only this time she was chained to her chair being forced to watch. Margaret, Charlie, and Bryce knelt in front of Stephen, and Nina and the woman from the limo stood at his sides. He stopped kissing Nina, turned to Herman, and laughed.

  “Tits and pussies,” he said. “Take your clothes off; you’re next.”

  She opened her eyes and saw the ghost of the white roses her father had given her, in a vase on the table beside the bed, and she squinted back a fresh set of tears. Turning from the wet spot on her pillow, she reached for Stephen. The slickness of his semen between her legs reminded her they had fallen asleep making love. He stirred and wrapped her in his arms, and she curled her body around his, sobbing on his shoulder.

  “Bad dream?”

  She nodded. “I dreamed what my dad made me see.”

  “I’m sorry, Herman.”

  “It’s not your fault. Just love me.”

  “I do,” he said. “So very much.”

  He held her until she fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER 13

  “There’s a reason people’s thoughts are their own. I never want to be able to read minds like that,” Herman told her father the next morning in his room over a cup of coffee.

  She sat between George and Stephen at the small table that held the remnants of their room-service breakfast. Margaret still hadn’t made an appearance, even though Stephen had made multiple attempts to call and text her. He was beginning to worry.

  “Like your mother told you, it’s a curse,” George said. “But it’s not just the ability to read minds, and it’s not that easy. I can’t simply read your mind. I can only do it by touching someone who knows you.”

  “So that’s how you were able to see what Stephen was thinking? You used me for that?” Herman asked, curling her lip in disgust.

  “Believe me, it wasn’t my intention to show you what I can do that way. I wasn’t even sure it was possible: only people with the power of sight can see what I’m seeing. I guess you have it. Anyway, I sometimes do things I end up regretting after I’ve had a few drinks. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s what you were trying to do with Yuka in Japan,” Stephen said. “But I don’t understand. Why me? Why do you have it in for me?”

  George looked into his coffee cup and drained it, then he refilled it, stalling for time.

  “Okay, here’s the thing,” he said finally. “When I read a person, I catch glimpses of their present thought, but I always see something of their future. That’s how I can tell what they’re capable of doing.

  “For instance, everyone, no matter who, really is capable of killing. Especially if it’s for someone they love. But I didn’t need to see that through reading your mind to know it’s true for you,” he said, turning to Stephen. “I know there are several people you’d kill for, and Herman is one of them. In that regard, I was wrong about you.”

  “Apology accepted,” Stephen said.

  George scowled. “Anyway, when I met you I had no problem with you. Then one night when we were partying, I caught something from your Japanese assistant about you. I saw you with Chad.”

  “With Chad?” Herman frowned. “Not me?”

  “Not at first, no. It wasn’t until I really entered Yuka’s subconscious that I found him with you. And you were an adult. Just like you are now.

  “When I saw you with him I saw you in danger, and I believed it was Dagmar here who was a danger to you.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I know it’s not him. It’s the pregnant woman. She’s a fucking nutcase.”

  “We knew that,” Herman muttered.

  “You’ve got to get rid of her,” George said to Stephen. “Send her somewhere where she can’t be a danger to Herman.”

  “I’m not going to get rid of her. She’s carrying my baby. And anyway, she’s not a danger to Herman now. She’s in Ontario.”

  “You know, I’ve looked into your whereabouts these past months, Dagmar, and I know you came back to Canada days before you met Herman. So how is it that you got this Canadian girl pregnant?” George pointed at him. “Did you do it before you met my daughter? Or were you stringing them both along at the same time?”

  “It’s not like that,” Herman said.

  “And you,” he said, redirecting the accusing digit. “Why the hell do you not only put up with it, but you defend his actions? I know you know the woman. And you already knew he got her pregnant. Where is your self-esteem? Why do you stay with him if you know what he is capable of doing? When there are all these women tripping over each other to get their hands on him? Don’t you think he’ll eventually give in to temptation and fuck around on you? Again?”

  “It’s complicated,” Herman said, biting back her defense, which was born as much from her own self-doubt as the reality of the curse she couldn’t explain. “And no, he won’t give in to temptation because he loves me.”

  “Pfft.” George rolled his eyes.

  “You should know that, anyway,” Herman continued. “Haven’t you seen his future?”

  “Not enough of it. Which is why I want to go through either you or his other girlfriend to see what might happen to you.”

  “What other girlfriend?” Herman snapped.

  “His agent.”

  “She’s not—”

  “No way,” Stephen said, interrupting her.

  “Well then, I’m going to have to go through you,” he said to Stephen, “to see what your pregnant bitch is going to do to my daughter. Otherwise, I’ll take matters into my own hands. If you won’t get rid of her, I will. And I won’t just send her away.”

  “You will not touch Nina!” Stephen snarled and stood, almost upending the table.

  George sat back and smiled. “You see?” he said, turning to Herman. “You can see
for yourself what kind of animal you’re with.”

  “He’s protecting his child! The same as you’re trying to do.”

  “Exactly. And I’m not going to let something happen to you for the sake of an unborn baby.”

  “I will protect Herman,” Stephen said.

  “I need to make sure of that,” George said. “And in order to do that, I need to see into the future. Otherwise, the threat needs to be eliminated, by whatever means is necessary. Are you going to get rid of her, or am I?”

  “She won’t leave Ontario,” Stephen said. “As long as Herman isn’t there, she is safe.”

  “And what about when you do go back there?”

  “I’ll deal with it then.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “You don’t already know?” Herman asked.

  He stared at her, waiting to speak, choosing his words.

  “Your boyfriend keeps his life very private,” he said at length. “But I’m guessing it’s somewhere around Kingston.”

  Herman looked down at her lap so as not to give away how close he was. Then she had another thought. “How sure are you that what you see will actually happen?”

  “I saw you with Dagmar two years ago. Who could have predicted that?”

  “Okay, but have your visions of the future always been accurate?” she asked.

  “They’ve rarely been wrong. And they’ve never been completely wrong. Sometimes it’s just a matter of interpretation, like it was with you and him,” he said, pointing at Stephen. “I thought I had years before you would meet him. I didn’t realize you were going to grow up this fast.”

  “So isn’t it possible that you’re misinterpreting what Nina will do to me?”

  He winced. “No.”

  “In other words, you don’t know when this attack will supposedly happen,” Stephen said.

  George shook his head. “I haven’t seen it that clearly yet. I need more details. For that I’d need to get into the head of the person closest to her, which I assume is you, since she’s having your baby. I won’t be able to find out anything about you that she doesn’t know. So, I’m not going to get into your deepest darkest secrets. I’ll only know what she’s capable of, and what she is thinking.”

  Stephen shook his head. “I won’t do it.”

  “You know what to do then. Because if you step one foot in Ontario, I’m hunting her down.”

  “I need to talk to Margaret,” Stephen said, getting up abruptly.

  George looked up at him. “Your tour is taking you back to Ontario at the end of November. You have four weeks off through Christmas. As long as you stick to your tour, I have plenty of time to find your bitch.”

  Stephen stared at him, his nostrils flared.

  “Anger management issues?” George asked him with a smirk.

  Stephen turned away. “Herman, let’s go.”

  She got up and followed him out the door without saying goodbye to her dad.

  “Go back to our room,” he said more gently once they were in the elevator. He handed her the key card. “I’m going to find Margaret. Make sure she’s okay. If I’m not back in ten minutes, come and find me.”

  “Okay. What are you going to do about Nina?”

  She was taken aback by a flash of mahogany in his eyes as he looked into hers. Must be the lighting, she thought as she brushed it off.

  “I’ll think of something,” he said.

  They reached their floor and stepped out of the elevator. She stood still as he walked in the opposite direction from their room. He got five steps away, stopped, and came back to kiss her on the lips before turning toward his agent’s room.

  * * *

  Stephen knocked on Margaret’s door and waited. He knocked again and put his ear to the door, but he couldn’t hear anything. He tried her cell phone—he could hear it ringing inside the room—but there was no answer. Just as he was about to pound on the door one last time before transporting himself to the other side, Margaret opened it wearing nothing but a long, over-sized t-shirt.

  “I need your help,” she said, stepping back to let him in. The upended room smelled like sex and feminine sweat.

  “What’s wrong?” He saw the woman from the limo lying naked, faceup on the bed, and his first thought was that she was dead.

  Margaret, reading his expression, said, “I can’t wake her up, but that’s not the problem. The problem is the stupid bitch rammed a tampon up inside me, and I can’t get it out.”

  “So go to the hospital.”

  “And what, wait six hours and end up with toxic shock syndrome? I’ve been trying for the past hour and a half to get it out, and I can’t reach it.”

  Stephen glanced at the woman on the bed. She would be no help.

  “You’ve tried everything?”

  “It’s been up there since two this morning. I hoped it would just come out by itself, but no. I’ve tried pushing, I’ve tried … Yes, I’ve tried everything. You’re my only hope.”

  “Can’t you wait ‘til she wakes up?”

  “I’m panicking here, Stephen.”

  He thought about Herman. He glared at his best friend and saw nothing but anxiety. Fuck it, he thought.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “Just a sec.” She disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a towel. Lying on her back with her backside on the towel, she pulled off her panties, and with them, a heavily stained pad.

  He stood at the end of the bed and looked her in the eye. “I don’t have to tell you that we say nothing about this. Ever.”

  “Of course not,” she said.

  He rolled up his sleeve and knelt on the bed beside her. Without shifting his gaze from her face, he felt between her legs and inserted two fingers.

  “You’re bleeding a lot?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shifted his position and tried a third finger.

  “You need to relax,” he said.

  “I know.” The strain in her voice equaled the tightness in her vagina that wouldn’t allow him to insert a fourth finger.

  He looked up at the ceiling. He prayed for strength. Then he wiggled his fingers, and she groaned and arched her back. It did what Margaret, herself, had taught him years ago that it would: it enlarged her vagina for penetration. He inserted his pinkie and went as far as his thumb would allow.

  “I can feel it,” he said.

  He tried to find the string with his fingertips, but he couldn’t tell exactly what he was touching, other than that it was a foreign object.

  “I need my thumb to grab it.”

  “You want to put your whole hand up there?” she asked, lifting her head from the pillow. As she did, he felt her tighten again around his hand.

  “Do you want to go to the hospital?”

  Her head fell back and she stared up at the ceiling. “Can you get me more in the mood?”

  “Not without compromising my morals.”

  She lifted her head again. “You’ve got your hand inside my twat,” she said, pointing out the obvious.

  “Fine.” He pulled his hand out partway and wiggled his fingers again. At the same time, he grazed her clitoris with his thumb.

  “Oh fuck, I taught you well,” she said, her vagina spasming around his fingers. He didn’t let up until he felt her contractions coming in a rhythm that matched the pulse of his inevitable erection. Gauging the moment when her contractions were the strongest, he inserted his thumb and his hand went in past his knuckles, drawn in by her orgasm. She screamed at the same time he found the string, and the woman who was formerly comatose on the bed, sat up, fully awake.

  She went straight for Stephen’s crotch and finding him hard, whispered in his ear, “I want some.”

  With that, Stephen reached his limit. He grabbed the tampon string and pulled it out in one fluid motion, a rush of blood following it. Without pause he turned and stood, his bloody right hand at the woman’s throat
; his left moved directly, unerringly into her vagina. He lifted her by the chin and the pelvis and pinned her against the nearest wall, missing the mirror that hung there by an inch.

  “You want my dick?” he growled, his voice low and angry. His blood pounded steadily in his ears with a beat that seemed to envelop the room.

  “Your eyes …” the woman croaked, her own bulging from their sockets.

  He glanced in the mirror. His eyes glowed red.

  “Do you want my dick?” he repeated slowly, his voice deep with a deceptive calm, his control slipping.

  “No, yes,” she squeaked, and he felt warm liquid escape her.

  He felt a vague touch on his arm. Margaret’s voice, as though from a distance, pulled at his focus. “Stop, Stephen. It’s not her you’re mad at.”

  He turned on Margaret, and she jerked back, a small scream escaping her lips.

  “You don’t understand!” he yelled.

  He let go of the woman and she fell, slumped on the floor in a puddle of her own urine with Margaret’s blood at her throat. As his best friend backed toward the bed, the fear in her eyes shifted suddenly to longing, and she licked her lips, changing direction.

  In a fog of monstrous, violent desire, Stephen pressed himself against Margaret, his hands by his sides in a final attempt not to grab her. Then a voice on the other side of the door—Herman’s—stole his concentration. The modicum of control that remained in him widened, and he dragged his attention to the voice. He pried himself away from Margaret—his victim?—and opened the door to find Herman there, poised to knock.

  She saw the blood on his hand first.

  “Whose …” she started. She looked him in the eye and gasped, taking a step back.

  “I’m going to Antigua. I’ll be home tonight.” He pushed past her and down the hall, fearing that if he hadn’t been distracted when he was, he might have left a trail of blood that was not entirely menstrual.

  * * *

  “What the hell happened?” Herman asked.

  Margaret stood in the middle of the room in a blood-stained t-shirt, looking down at the woman choking on the floor. She bent down to ask her if she was okay, and that was when Herman noticed the blood running down Margaret’s leg.