The Magic Shop

by Justin Swapp

  “Only you can save him now. Duty calls me to investigate your father’s tomb. What your grandfather needs now is you, disciplined and focused.”

  “What can I do?”

  “As for now, nothing,” she replied, “but if you will vow not to drain another person of his magic unless it is done in self-defense, and instead promise to seek your magical ambition the way we will teach you, then it will be well with you. Break this vow, and the next tomb I show you in the catacombs will be your own.”

  He didn’t know how he would be able to resist; he couldn’t before, why would he be able to now? What would happen if he slipped up and lost control; how would she know?

  “How do I resist the urge?”

  “Discipline,” she said firmly, and then with a smirk, added, “and something your grandmother discovered for us.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Licorice root.”

  “Licorice?”

  “Not the kind you are thinking of, but rather licorice root. It has healing and calming properties that have a significant effect on us. You’ll want to keep it handy. Your grandmother will show you how.”

  Elba moved across the room and stood behind the stone stand like a preacher behind a pulpit.

  “Marcus Fith, do you vow to push aside the nature of the Dun-Bhar that has awakened in you, and take a higher path to magic?”

  Marcus thought for a moment. This was sudden and he didn’t feel prepared. He was still unsure of himself. While he didn’t know how he would do it, he knew what was right.

  “Yes,” he answered firmly.

  Elba put her hands on top of the small box in front of her. As had happened with the tomb, Marcus heard a gasp and the lid popped open. She lifted it, and before Marcus saw the blue glow, he felt the magical power contained therein, and knew what it was.

  “Then I present you with the last of your father’s magic,” she lifted a small, transparent sphere filled with active energy out of the box, “and his own brim.”

  “Brim?” Marcus asked. His eyes fixated as he stepped forward, reaching slowly for the sphere. “It has a name?”

  Marcus was fascinated by the sphere, not only because it was his father’s, but because it seemed different somehow. On the surface, the color was slightly different and brighter, but he felt that there was more. As he stepped closer, he felt its power draw him in.

  “You honor your father by guarding his magic properly,” Elba extended the brim to him. “And by adding to it appropriately, you will not disgrace him.”

  Marcus cupped the brim. His hands tingled, his hair stood on end. He gazed down deep into the magic. A bright light flashed and then in his mind he saw terrible things. He saw images of war. He heard deafening screams and sobs, followed by laughter, then wailing, and then more laughter. He simultaneously sensed pain and exhilaration; overwhelming emotions. Just when he thought he would drop the brim, he heard a baby’s cry that washed everything else away into silence. No images, no other sounds. Nothing but the cry mattered anymore. He felt remorse; he felt happiness. He heard another baby with a different cry, and the joy was complete. No more wailing, no more sobs; just joy and love.

  Marcus looked up to Elba as she turned her back on him. In a moment, he had understood at least a portion of his father and that was indeed a gift.

  “Come with me,” she said.

  Questions and thoughts raced through his mind as he followed Elba out of his father’s chamber. He had seen powerful images and heard awful things, but what did they mean? Was his father responsible? And the babies…

  Marcus followed, staring at the brim, transfixed. He followed from the tomb, and as they entered the catacombs he felt the heat rise. He wiped his forehead.

  Marcus thought he heard whispers all around him… an echoed muttering. His first assumption was that the brim was trying to communicate with him again, but he became aware that this time the sound came from outside his mind.

  With considerable effort, he ripped his gaze away from the brim. He blinked hard several times. Before him, along the outside of the circular, narrow path of the catacombs, stood a line of alternating spirits and servants standing rigidly, staring blankly at the walls. The servants held torches over Marcus and Elba’s heads, giving the path an almost tunneled effect. The random murmuring continued as they advanced.

  “The Shar-Din hold life sacred,” One servant said in a low, measured tone of voice.

  “What’s going on?” whispered Marcus. The constant murmuring didn’t stop, even when he spoke.

  “Magic feeds on life,” hissed one spirit.

  When Elba didn’t respond, Marcus grew frustrated, yet he said nothing as they continued. It would be out of place to talk anymore, he thought. He clutched the brim tighter.

  “And life feeds on magic,” uttered another.

  Marcus was getting sick of the voices. He wanted to shut them up. They made him feel crazy inside.

  “Magic is one eternal round.”

  Round, he thought. He looked down at the brim. The energy it contained, the magic, was alive with excitement and action. His eyes widened as he felt strength and anger fill his chest. He could end this murmuring himself, couldn’t he? He could shut them—

  “To master the magic, one must master himself.”

  Marcus squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Something about that last phrase struck him. He looked up to see that they were rounding the path to the catacombs. Not too far away a bone staircase led down to the bottom of the skeletal pit he had seen earlier.

  They finally walked past the ghosts and servants lining the path and met silence, except for the crackling torches. As they stepped down the stairs, the bones creaked and moved slightly. In the center of the pit; a large stone slab looked like a table.

  Taking her place on the opposite side of the stone slab, Elba turned to face Marcus for first time since they had left his father’s chamber.

  “Marcus,” she said, “the challenge before you is great, but it is noble and good. You can be a force for good or for evil in this world. Every man has this choice. You have passed the final test. You walked the path of the catacombs with the brim, and have harmed no one. Did you feel it?”

  Marcus hadn’t thought of it but she was right; he had held the very thing that had willed him to do harm. Now he had resisted that urge, despite the brim in his hands the whole time.

  Elba didn’t wait for his response. “You have proven yourself able, now prove yourself willing. Place yourself on this altar.”

  Marcus looked around, hoping if he looked hard enough he would find someone who could explain what he had just heard. He had read about altars in school, and didn’t like where this was going.

  “What?”

  “Will you honor your parents’ sacrifice on your behalf and shrug off the Dun-Bhar and become Shar-Din, like your father before you?”

  “I’m confused, Elba, and scared.”

  “You have nothing to fear; fear is for the living. Here we deal only in death.”

  “That didn’t help,” Marcus said under his breath. He didn’t know what else to do. It wasn’t like he could run away. He knew she was powerful and this was her lair. He had to obey. If she were going to kill me, she would have done it already, he thought.

  Marcus approached the stone slab. “What do I do?”

  “Do like your father before you,” she raised both hands slowly. As she did, small steps made out of bones arose from the ground, leading to the slab, “and lay on the altar of the Shar-Din.”

  Marcus had no choice, so he lay down on the stone slab with his new brim cupped in his hands and placed on his chest. He prayed that everything would be all right.

  “Good,” Elba the Crypt Keeper said. She snapped her arms wide like an orchestra conductor, and with a note of finality in her voice, said, “Marcus Fith, I bind the brim of your father to you, and you to it.”

  As she said it, she waved her arms over him. Ghosts and servants turned to watch
as the slab on which he lay began to radiate hot light that tingled his back, and then penetrated his skin. He screamed. The burning light became a cool blue as it rose up through his body, up through his arms, and gathered inside the sphere in his hands. The brim grew brighter with each passing moment.

  “Life feeds on magic and magic feeds on life. This is the way of the Dun-Bhar and the Shar-Din,” Elba said. “You must protect your brim, for its contents are now bound to you, and you are bound to them. You hold your life in your hands.”

  Elba extended her brim over Marcus and mumbled something. A great light flashed and huge, jagged energy tendrils shot up from the stone slab and through Marcus as if lightning bolts launched their way back to the sky.

  “Now!” yelled Elba, “I send you to meet your keeper!”

  Marcus’s pain was brief, for it was swallowed up in darkness.

  13

  A Gypsy and a Bottle

  Marcus felt something hot and slimy moving across his face. He became aware of pressure on his chest, and his nose began to itch. In an instant, he wondered if he had died and been buried in the crypt. Survival instincts kicked in, and Marcus opened his eyes wide only to see his… ceiling. He was on his back, and looking down on him, tongue dangling, was Tofu.

  Marcus couldn’t believe it. He grabbed Tofu and gave him the biggest hug he had ever given anyone. In fact, he nearly squeezed the dog to death, he was so excited.

  Then, fully realizing where he was, Marcus bolted up, knocking Tofu back on his bed. His bedroom was in the same condition as it was when he had left it: socks on the floor, TV broken, and closet door open. His grandma and Ellie stood by the doorframe, watching him. The last thing he remembered was…. No, he didn’t want to remember.

  “What’s going on?” Marcus asked, running a hand through his thick, brown hair. He had disturbing images flying through his mind. He tried to think of something else. Had he been dreaming? He felt like splashing cold water on his face. “What’s with the crowd at my door? I should charge a door fee.”

  “How are you feeling?” his grandma asked in a measured voice. Marcus thought she looked more cautious than concerned.

  “Grandma fixed some homemade tea for you,” Ellie said, approaching him with a saucer full of something that smelled very familiar.

  “How long have I been asleep?” he asked, stretching out his sore joints. He smacked his lips and took a sip of tea. It made him feel better, so he drank more.

  “Apparently a few days longer than Elba thought it would be,” Ellie said. “We were starting to get worried.”

  “A few days?” he asked. His question was met with blank expressions. “Was I hit by a car or something? I’ve never slept that long before. Is something wrong with me?”

  Ellie laughed. “Not more than what I’ve been saying all these years.”

  “Your visit with Elba was,” his grandma said, putting a finger to her chin as if pausing to consider the proper wording, “draining.” The word seemed to recall a flash of memories to his consciousness, and he gasped. “Oh, and,” she added casually, “she left this for you.”

  Marcus took an ordinary-looking brown envelope from his grandmother. He flipped it over to reveal a blood-red seal of wax, stamped with a skull mark.

  “She said to give it to you as soon as you woke up,” his grandma said.

  Marcus grabbed a pencil from the top of his dresser, ran it through the fold of the envelope, and ripped it open.

  “Marcus,

  For your eyes only.

  You’ve managed not to die thus far, but not for a lack of trying. You’ve proven to be reckless and irresponsible. You’re lucky to still be topside.

  Stay at the shop. Don’t leave. You still have much to learn, and there isn’t much time. There is someone you need to meet before we can save your grandfather. Stay put.

  -Elba”

  Marcus put down the letter. “Stay put”, she said. Like he was some kind of dog or something. He didn’t understand her.

  The mention of his grandfather jarred Marcus’s memory further and stirred his feelings. His grandpa was gone. He had been gone for some time, and they had no idea where he was, or how to save him. He had hoped to get that information from Elba, but boy did that turn out differently than he had thought. His grandpa had been like a father to him, and he had to find him.

  Marcus took a deep breath. “Thanks, Grandma,” he said, folding the letter and putting it back inside the envelope.

  “Well, what did it say?” his grandma asked, reaching out for the envelope.

  Marcus shook his head, pulled it close to his chest, and said, “she said ‘my eyes only’, Grandma, sorry.”

  Grandma retracted her hand slowly, considering Marcus. “Very well then. I suppose I will let you two catch up.” She left the room.

  Ellie sat on the bed next to Marcus. He explained what the letter had said, and then, before she could even ask, he described everything that had happened with Elba.

  “Skeletons and spirits back from the dead, still lusting for magic?” Ellie asked. “That sounds a bit—”

  “True,” Marcus said. “Please tell me you are going to say true, Ellie, because you are the first person I have told this to, and I need to not be crazy right now, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. “True. I suppose that’s the kind of story you just can’t make up.”

  Marcus nodded, showing half a smile. “Now we have to find Grandpa.”

  “But the letter,” Ellie said. “Elba’s advice—”

  Marcus shrugged. “I don’t care what it said, I’m tired of doing nothing, and I want my grandpa back.”

  “Okay then, big shot, what’s the plan?”

  “We pick up where we left off,” Marcus said. “With the picture and The Magic Box.”

  “Do you mean we just waltz right in there and say: ‘hi, we’re here for our grandpa’?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” Marcus asked. It didn’t take long before Ellie shook her head.

  “Good, then let’s go.”

  Marcus hung his Do not disturb sign from his bedroom door, and closed it. They gathered their things, and then climbed through Marcus’s window once again.

  From their roof they could see The Magic Box down the street.

  “Are you sure this is the right approach?” Ellie picked up a football they had lost months ago and tossed it off the roof. “It seems dangerous. I mean, if what you say about those—what did you call them—brim, is true, then it would seem that Faustino has one too, right?”

  “I don’t know if this is the right approach,” Marcus said, “but it’s all we’ve got. If we can separate Faustino from his brim, then we have nothing to worry about.”

  “Other than the fact that he’s still a full-grown adult and that he could still squash us with one hand,” Ellie said, wiping the sweat from her forehead as the sun came down in full force. “What do you think we will find in there, Marcus?”

  “I don’t know,” Marcus said, “but it’s all we’ve got.”

  They climbed down the fire escape, one by one, and took to the street. Traffic seemed busier, both on the street and on the sidewalks, and Marcus wondered what was going on.

  “So the plan is just to walk in there and…” Ellie said, letting her last word hang.

  “And to just look around, like regular customers,” Marcus stopped suddenly, bumping into someone in front of him.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going,” a tall, skinny man said, standing in a line leading to The Magic Box. Marcus looked at Ellie in surprise.

  “What’s going on?” Marcus whispered to Ellie.

  Ellie shrugged. “Is this place always this busy?”

  They waited their turn, and a few minutes later a bell rang as they entered The Magic Box. Marcus’s first thought was how much creepier it was during the day than when they had visited the other night. The red velvet that covered everything seemed ominous somehow, and all the different magical products seemed to loo
m over them, feeling very authentic.

  “May I help you, sir?” a busy boy asked, engaged in stocking the shelf behind the front counter. He had his back turned to Marcus and Ellie.

  “No thanks,” Marcus said as they quickly moved toward one of the taller aisles. They passed a man pocketing something with an odd teal glow. “Just looking.”

  The shop seemed fairly busy as Marcus and Ellie navigated their way out of sight. Some customers were perusing the library of books for sale, while others were examining swords, or staring into crystal balls before putting them back on the shelves. They had never seen anything like this at The Magic Shop.

  “Something’s odd here,” Ellie said, scanning the room.

  “Like what?” Marcus asked, observing the people around him, “how everyone’s really tall?” He chuckled at his own joke.

  “No, not exactly. Everyone’s really… adult,” Ellie said. “Look, the only kid in here besides us is the one stocking the shelves.”

  Marcus took in the room again and realized that Ellie was right. “Yeah, when was the last time you saw a magic shop with no kids?”

  “Well, our shop,” Ellie said. “But that’s because we don’t have any customers.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” Marcus said. “Think of all the kids that were here the other night for the show.”

  “True.” Ellie shrugged. “So what are we looking for, anyway?”

  “There’s just something about this place, Ellie. I don’t know what I expected, a clue maybe. Maybe I thought we’d see Elizabeth, or the man from the drawing again, or even the great Faustino, and we could question them. I don’t know, but we just need something to point us in Grandpa’s direction, you know?”

  “Pardon me, but are you in line?” a voice asked from behind them.

  “Excuse me,” Marcus turned to see a tall, well-dressed man sporting a curly mustache.

  “If you’re not in line,” the man indicated that he wanted to get by, “may I beg your pardon?”

  “No, go ahead, please,” Ellie stepped aside. She pulled Marcus by the arm so he’d join her.