by R M Gauthier
“What do you think they want?” Mr. Wolf’s expression remains neutral, not what Aaron was expecting at all.
“I’m not sure, but I think it has to do with magic,” Aaron responds.
“I see,” Mr. Wolf replies, then stands from his stool. “Come with me.”
Mr. Wolf walks to the back of the room and through a curtain.
Aaron stares at his retreating form before he follows him. He pushes the curtain aside and steps into the back room.
Mr. Wolf keeps walking toward a set of stairs and begins the climb when he reaches them.
Aaron trails behind, curious about what the old man has on his mind.
They arrive in an apartment at the top. Aaron glances around, noting the living room’s sparse furnishings of a recliner, side table, an older model television set, and an old bookcase stuffed with books.
Mr. Wolf strolls across the room, “Have a seat,” he calls out before disappearing through another doorway.
Aaron glances around the room, spotting an old chair in the corner that he missed on first inspection. He makes his way over and has a seat, while he glances around the room, waiting anxiously. In all the years he’s been coming to the store, he’s never been invited up here, and his mind is running wild with all the possibilities for this unusual meeting.
Mr. Wolf calls out from the other room. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Sure. Thank you.” Aaron feels obligated to accept.
He hears a kettle whistle, some opening and closing of cupboard doors, then the rattle of dishes. After a few minutes, Mr. Wolf wanders back in with a sliver tray in his grasp, which he places on the coffee table. He waves a hand over the display.
“Help yourself,” he offers, then wanders off again.
Aaron stands and moves to the table, picks up the teapot and pours some tea into a cup. Next, comes a dash of sugar and a little milk. He picks up the cup and saucer, making his way back to his seat.
Mr. Wolf returns, holding an old wooden box which he places on the floor at Aaron’s feet.
Aaron stares at the box, while Mr. Wolf prepares himself a cup of tea, turns to his chair and groans as he ungracefully plops down his seat. He takes a sip before glancing up Aaron.
“Years ago, your father brought me that box,” he begins, then takes another sip.
Aaron’s focus remains on the wooden chest a few seconds longer before peeking up.
“What is it?”
“I haven’t the foggiest. He never told me.”
“And you’ve never looked?”
“No,” he responds, offended. “I would never break his trust. If he wanted me to know, he would have told me.”
“What did he tell you?” Aaron’s eyes flick to the box then back to the old man.
“He asked me to give you that if you ever got into trouble.”
“And you think I’m in trouble now?”
“I’m not sure, but this seemed like the best time.”
“I can’t believe he did this,” Aaron mumbles as he glances at the box again, then looks up at Mr. Wolf. “And I can’t believe you’re only giving this to me now.”
“He was very specific, Aaron. I was not to give you this unless—”
Aaron cuts him off. “I was in trouble. I heard.”
“Look, we all have things happen to us in life, but it’s what we do when those things happen that make all the difference. Perhaps, your father saw this coming. Maybe not. What I do know is he thought you may need this, for some reason, and he asked me to give it to you. I have. It’s in your hands now.”
“Well, thank you,” Aaron replies, his glare stuck on the box.
The two finish their tea before Aaron makes his way out of the apartment and into the street, box in hand.
7
Aaron walks into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He strolls over to his bed, sets the box down, then sits down cross-legged and pulls the box closer. He stares at it for a moment before reaching out and lifting the lid open—slowly.
He sits back for a moment, his gaze never leaving the box, then he leans over and peers inside. On top sits a piece of paper. He reaches in with a shaky hand and pulls it out. He unfolds it and glances at the words, immediately recognizing the handwriting as his father’s.
At the first line, tears well in his eyes.
Dear Aaron,
The first tear rolls down his cheek, drops off his chin and hits the page. He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, then begins reading.
If you’re reading this, that means I’m gone. I’m sorry, Son, that I wasn’t there to see you grow up and become the great man I know you are. I wish things had turned out differently. I wish my father had left me a note like this, but sadly it wasn’t meant to be. What I can do is make certain you aren’t faced with the same fate that so many of us were dealt. What I’m about to tell you will come as a shock and you may not want to believe me, but it’s all true. So, please Aaron, take what I say as gospel because it’s going to save your life—I hope.
Aaron takes a deep breath, peers up at the ceiling as more tears fall. Again, he wipes his eyes, then goes back to the letter.
There are angels among us.
Aaron rolls his eyes, then continues.
These angels act as our guardians, essentially protecting us as we walk our path through this life. The thing is they’re not all good. That’s where our kind come in. Not humans, but magicians. When people talk about dark magic, I always figured they meant the magician was practicing bad magic. How wrong I was. What they really meant was magicians were used by these other angels. They need us to do certain things on this earth. Without us, they’re rendered powerless. By the time I figured out what was happening it was too late. I tried to stop him, but if you’re reading this I failed.
Inside the box, you’ll find evidence to back up everything I’ve told you. Please read it all carefully and make certain you don’t fall into the same trap I did.
I love you, Son. I know I’d be very proud of the man you’ve become. Take care and give your mother a kiss for me.
Love Dad
Aaron stares at the paper, his hand shaking as he sobs quietly. To think that old man had this the entire time. What if he moved away? What if he stopped going into the shop? He shudders at the thought. That shop has been there his entire life and that old man has been like a replacement father. His father knew exactly what he was doing when he left this with Mr. Wolf.
Aaron places the letter carefully down at his side, then leans forward and begins pulling the other things out of the box, piece by piece. A lot of old newspaper clippings, along with photos of other magicians that Aaron spreads across the bed. There are also two older looking books, leather-bond with a strange looking symbol on the covers. There’s no title or author which gives Aaron pause, but he puts them down and turns to the clippings.
One after another, they’re about former magicians. Aaron looks at each clipping carefully and every one of them is about a magician who died while performing their act, including his father.
Aaron places the last clipping on the pile and glances at the books. It’s a lot to take in, but he must know the truth. He reaches for the first book, picks it up and studies the cover, running his finger over the embossed symbol. He’s seen it before, somewhere but can’t remember where. He flips the book over, but the back is blank too.
Finally, he places it on the bed and flips the cover open.
A tornado of wind swirls around Aaron, picking up speed as it moves through the room.
Aaron raises his hands in front of his face, attempting to protect himself.
The storm moves to the middle of his room where it speeds up creating a huge gust, which suddenly gets smaller and stronger.
Aaron struggles to keep watching.
A huge burst of flames blinds him for a moment. Once the flame diminishes, a figure remains in the middle of the room.
When Aaron’s eyes adjust to the light, the fig
ure comes into view. Aaron scoots back on the bed to the very corner, pressed up against the wall, cowering in fear.
“Hello, Aaron.” The dark angel smiles. “Miss me?”
8
The dark angel causally wanders around Aaron’s room, glancing and touching several objects. He stares at the posters on the wall, all of them magicians—Aaron heroes.
Aaron remains as far in the corner as he can get, recoiling in fear as his gaze travels around the room, his eyes constantly shifting back to the dark angel.
The angel picks up a wand from the top of Aaron’s dresser and turns to him.
“Does it really work?” He smirks at Aaron.
Aaron stares in shock and bewilderment.
“Don’t worry, I already know the answer,” the angel says as he places the wand back where he found it.
“What do you want?” Aaron asks, finally finding his voice once more.
“It’s not what I want, but what I can do for you.”
Aaron stares, his mouth opening and shutting, until he finds his voice. “Who are you?”
“I know it’s been a while, but I thought I made a lasting impression.” The angel places a hand to his heart, acting hurt. “Fallen Star, at your service.” The angel waves a hand in front of himself then bows deeply.
“Why are you here?”
“That’s a little harder to explain.” Fallen moves across the room and glances in the full-length mirror, smiling at himself. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen one of these.
Suddenly, a bright white light fills the room, causing Aaron to shield his eyes, once again.
Fallen simply rolls his.
Nevaeh shimmers into existence and glances around the room.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I reckon, the same as you,” Fallen says dismissively.
“I’m on official business,” she replies in disgust.
“Same here,” he snaps.
“I’ll bet,” she says under her breath.
“You know I can hear you, right?” Fallen deadpans.
“Oh my God. You’re real?” Aaron blurts out.
Both angels’ heads snap to Aaron and they stare at him.
Aaron’s gaze flickers between the two. After a long moment he jumps up from the bed and starts pacing.
“They’re right. I’m crazy. I didn’t believe them, but there you have it. Crazy as a mother—”
“Calm down,” Fallen interrupts Aaron’s rant. “You’re not crazy.”
Nevaeh steps forward, placing her hands-on Aaron’s shoulders, stopping him in his tracks.
He peers up at her with a bewildered expression on his face.
“We’re real, Aaron,” Nevaeh explains in a soft manner. “We’re here to help you.”
“How?” Aaron whispers.
Nevaeh glances at Fallen, looking for help.
“Oh, for heaven’s—”
“Fallen, watch yourself,” Nevaeh chastises him.
He steps closer to her, coming face-to-face, although he’s taller, so Nevaeh must look up to him.
“I can do and say whatever I like. I don’t have the same rules. So, quit telling me how to speak,” he snaps.
“Fine.” Nevaeh puts her hands on her hips and stands a little taller. “Just don’t do it in my presence.”
“Fine.” Fallen glares down at her.
“I hate to interrupt, but what the hell is going on?” Aaron snaps.
Nevaeh gasps.
Fallen bursts out laughing, as he throws an arm around Aaron pulling him to his side and glancing down at him.
“We are so going to get along.”
Nevaeh throws daggers at Fallen through her glare.
“Why were you at my show last week?” Aaron asks.
Fallen drops his arm from Aaron’s shoulder and knits his eyebrows, creating creases in his forehead.
“What?” Fallen asks.
“My show last week. Why were you there?” Aaron repeats.
Fallen’s gaze shifts to Nevaeh.
“Were you there?” she asks, concern overtaking her features.
“No.”
“Are you certain?” she inquires.
“I think I’d remember if I were there,” Fallen snaps.
“You were there. I saw you. Spoke to you,” Aaron relays.
“What did I say?” Fallen’s gaze turns to Aaron.
“You were part of one of my tricks. You lied to me about your name,” Aaron answers.
Fallen glances at Nevaeh, raising an eyebrow, before returning his attention to Aaron.
“What did I say my name was?”
“Azrael Star,” Aaron offers.
“Damn,” Nevaeh cusses.
Fallen begins pacing the room. “You can say that again,” he blurts out.
“What are we going to do?” she asks.
Fallen stops pacing and glares at her.
“We?”
“Yes, we. I’m in on this, so we might as well work together,” she offers.
“Forget it. This is our problem. We’ll take care of it,” Fallen insists.
“I’ve been assigned by—”
Fallen cuts her off.
“This is our problem. It has no effect on you guys. So, thanks for the offer, but I think we can handle it. You can go now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The two angels face off with each other.
Aaron stands to the side openly gawking at the two. Memories flood his mind of the last time he met with these angels. An overwhelming fear washes through him as he takes a couple of steps toward his door.
“Just because he’s part of your team—” Nevaeh is cut off once again.
“He’s not part of our team and I resent the implication.” Fallen steps closer to Nevaeh breathing heavy, appearing ready to attack.
“Don’t try to intimidate me, Fallen. It won’t work.” She presses her forefinger into his chest.
Fallen lets out a breath of air and steps back.
“Look, we both have jobs to do, so let’s agree to disagree,” Fallen offers. “Let’s get back to the reason we’re here.”
He gazes around the room and sighs.
“How do we keep losing this guy?” he asks.
Nevaeh glances around the room.
“Damn,” she says under her breath.
“I heard that.” Fallen smiles before heading for the door. “I’ll find him.”
9
The two angels emerge from Aaron’s house looking down the street both ways, until they spot him running at top speed.
“See what you did now?” Nevaeh accuses.
She begins walking in the direction Aaron is heading.
Fallen falls into step beside her.
“Me?” Fallen points at himself. “We were getting along fine, until you popped in.”
“Yeah. Aaron cowering in the corner of his bed is getting along fine, is it?”
“It’s better than running after him in the streets like this…” Fallen stops talking.
“Don’t even start with that. I’m not listening to that argument again.” Nevaeh brushes him off.
“Look, we have to stop him. So, can we drop the crap and work on putting the world right again?” Fallen pleads.
“Fine.”
“Fine. Let’s catch up to him.”
Aaron is running, breathing heavy as his feet hit the pavement. He has no idea where to go, so he takes off in the direction of the one place he’s always felt safe. Before he can turn the next corner, the two angels appear on either side of him, keeping the same pace.
“Leave me alone,” Aaron cries out.
“Sorry. Can’t do that,” Fallen responds.
Aaron stops running, bending at the waist, trying to catch his breath.
The angels, on the other hand, come to a halt, breathing normally as if they haven’t run at all.
“What do you want?” Aaron asks, while his head is still down, refusing to look a
t them.
A man passes by, causing Aaron to peek up. The man gives a strange glance but keeps moving. Aaron begins walking further down the sidewalk.
“Aaron, we have to explain some things, but this really isn’t the place. Can we go back to your house, please?” Nevaeh requests.
“Fine, but no more arguing,” he snaps while his gaze shifts from one angel to the other.
He turns around walking in the direction of his house.
“Can you do that?” Nevaeh whispers to Fallen. “Because if you can’t, you should just leave now. I can handle this.”
“I’ll bet you can,” Fallen snarls. “But, forget it. This is my family, so that makes this my problem. You can back off any time.”
Aaron halts his steps and glares back at the two.
“Sorry,” Nevaeh offers.
“Yeah. Sorry,” Fallen replies.
Aaron carries on.
When the three are back in Aaron’s room they stand in silence for a few minutes before the situation becomes uncomfortable. Aaron waits anxiously for the explanation which has yet to begin. The two angels stand on either side of him, staring at him like he’s a puzzle they’re attempting to figure out.
“Well, you can begin any time,” Aaron finally says, breaking the silence in the room.
He wanders over to his bed and plops down.
“So, if it wasn’t you at my show. Who was it?”
The angels glance at each other before turning their attention back to Aaron.
“That was my brother,” Fallen replies.
“So, why did he show up at my show?” Aaron inquires.
Again, the angels glance at each other.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Nevaeh responds.
“Aren’t you guys just full of information,” Aaron snarls.
“Look.” Fallen roars as he stands to his full height.
“Fallen.” Nevaeh puts a hand on his chest, pushing him to sit down. “Let me handle this, please.”
Fallen knits his eyebrows together in response, but he sits and crosses his arms over his chest.