by Ian Fortey
“You don’t have a number?”
“No. I don’t have a phone.”
“How is that even a thing?”
“I’m on a road trip of cosmic importance with my friend Vincent and we never picked up phones.”
“Oh. Well, that explains it,” she said. Dezzy nodded.
“So, if you give me your number then, when I get a phone, you can be the first person I call.”
“I’m honored,” Casey said. She gazed at him for a moment and scribbled something on her order sheet. She then tore off the piece of paper, handing it to him.
“That’s my number. When you get a phone, you can call me. But I suggest you make it quick before I lose interest,” she said.
“Oh, for sure, man. I’ll get a phone as soon as I get to a phone... store?” He looked at Vincent. Vincent shrugged.
“Right. What’s your name, Hungry Man?”
“Dezzy. Um, Desmond Walker,” he said, holding his hand out. Casey shook it with a grin.
“Nice to meet you, Dezzy. I’m Casey Abernathy. Don’t stand me up.”
Vincent put cash on the table. Casey took the bill and the money and stepped back to allow Dezzy out of his seat.
“For sure. Thanks,” Dezzy said.
“You boys have a good time on your cosmic road trip,” she said. Dezzy smiled at her.
“Already the best one I’ve ever been on,” he said. He turned and followed Vincent out of the diner to where the Mustang awaited them outside.
“You see that, man? I still got the magic touch,” he said. Vincent laughed.
“Yeah, you got something.”
“You leave her a good tip?” Dezzy asked. Vincent nodded and unlocked the car. They both got in, and Dezzy popped the mint into his mouth.
“We need a phone store.”
“We’ll find one,” Vincent said. He turned the car on, and the engine growled to life. He raised his hand to the rearview mirror. Selena’s face looked back at him.
“Is your life always like this?” she asked.
“Like what? Wait, what?” Dezzy asked. Selena’s voice had come from Vincent’s mouth.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Vincent said.
“Stupid. Wasteful. We need to find my sisters quickly. I can feel something in the land. Primal magic swelling in the earth there. I’m telling you, something is wrong.”
“Is that you, Miss Selena? It’s nice to meet you,” Dezzy said.
“Yes, hello, Desmond,” she said, looking at him in the mirror. Dezzy looked at the reflection and pointed.
“Vincent, you’re a girl!” he said excitedly.
“Goddess, grant me strength,” Selena muttered. Dezzy looked from Vincent’s face to his reflection and back.
“That’s a wild trick, man.”
“We’re going to Burnham,” Vincent said. “You can figure out what’s wrong when we get there, okay?”
“Be quick. This magic is not pure,” she said.
Vincent was not sure what she meant, exactly. The feeling was not necromancy, but he did sense something. There was a familiar buzz in the air. He wasn’t sure if it was just a holdover from one of his memories or not. But there was something that nagged at him.
“Blood magic never is,” Dezzy said, doing up his seatbelt.
“What do you mean blood magic?” Selena asked. Dezzy looked at her reflection.
“Um. Magic based in blood ritual and the power of life bargains? It’s a branch of mystical—”
“I know what blood magic is! But you sense it here?” Selena said.
“Yeah,” Vincent said. That was what he was feeling. Those pops of energy. The same bursts of power that came from Stanley Crisp’s magic in Alder Falls.
“You can sense blood magic as well?”
“I came across them before. There was someone at the ritual in my memory who could use it, too. It’s like...a smell in the air, almost? I feel something else. It’s really subtle. But there’s blood magic mixed into it.”
“Necromancy?” Selena asked.
“No. Not that I can tell. I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
“Primal magic and blood magic should not mix. It is forbidden,” Selena said.
“Yeah, that’s definitely primal,” Dezzy agreed. “Tastes earthy.”
“Tastes?” the woman in the mirror asked.
“I don’t know how to describe it. I can’t use magic, it’s hard to put into words. Primal magic tastes like mushrooms. Like root vegetables and dirt. Blood magic tastes like pennies and wax. Necromancy tastes like hot garbage. Biomancy tastes like rose hips and cream. Everything has a taste.”
“How very interesting,” Selena said.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Are we heading into another cursed town?” Vincent asked. Dezzy shrugged.
“I can’t sense a curse.”
“There is no curse. Someone is casting impure magic. My sisters are in danger. Can we go now?” Selena said.
Vincent shifted the car into gear. Dezzy leaned forward and clicked the radio on.
“She’s got a smile that it seems to me…” sang Axl Rose. Dezzy cheered.
“I love this track, man,” he said to Vincent.
Vincent pulled the car out of the parking lot and back onto the road. Dezzy was lost in Sweet Child O’ Mine and air drummed along except for a brief guitar solo. Any time Vincent looked in the mirror, Selena’s face stared back at him. He had never wanted to get somewhere so quickly in his life; that he could remember, anyway.
Chapter 2
The sign announcing the town of Burnham featured the image of a sprawling, blackened tree with no leaves and what appeared to be a woman burning at the base of it. Not exactly what Vincent thought was a welcoming image for visitors.
“Burnham. Home of the final witch burning in America,” Dezzy said, reading off a smaller sign. “That’s dark.”
“They use it to fleece tourists,” Selena said. “A legacy of torture and murder has become a cute method of profiteering. They sell bobbleheads and t-shirts while walking on the ashes of dead women.”
“That’s messed up,” Dezzy said.
“Yes, it is. And I could have fixed it if not for you,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror.
“I did this?” Vincent said.
“You killed me before I could undo the damage done. Or maybe I never could. Maybe your words were all a lie, and the power was never in my grasp. None of it matters now.”
Vincent didn’t respond as he kept driving. There was nothing else he could say, really. He knew nothing of what happened. And he couldn’t honestly argue with her. She remembered being murdered by him. He remembered nothing at all.
“Head to the Black Tree Bakery. It’s on Main Street,” Selena said.
“A bakery?” Dezzy asked.
“My sister, Abigail, owns it. It’s where we need to be. If anyone knows what is wrong in Burnham, it will be her. Can you feel the power now that we are in town? It is so much stronger.”
“Yes,” Vincent said. There was a base of power all around the town. It was like a blanket that had been laid down and the town was settled on top of it. Not like the Font in Alder Falls. This wasn’t a power source. It was just an expression of power. Power in use for something. But the nature of it was unknown to Vincent.
With Bogdan’s necromancy, he had learned to see the threads of power. He could see how it weaved through the Earth itself, and how it animated the undead. It was like threads in the weave of a shirt. But this power, the primal and blood magic Selena and Dezzy spoke of, was different. He could feel it in the way he felt the breeze. But he couldn’t point it out or touch it. He couldn’t manipulate it the way he manipulated necromancy.
For a small town, the streets were surprisingly packed with people as Vincent drove down Main Street in search of the bakery. At one point they passed a fairground that was loaded with booths and rides, includin
g a giant Ferris wheel. People streamed in and out of the gates carrying snacks and giant stuffed animals and bulging plastic bags.
“Is this like a festival or something?” Vincent said.
“Yes, every year people come to eat candy apples and corn dogs in honor of the twelve women murdered by the town elders of Burnham back in the late sixteen hundreds.”
“They burned them on that tree?” Vincent asked.
“Yes,” Selena said.
“Not all of them,” Dezzy said. Selena looked at him in the mirror. “They burned seven of them on the tree. Three were hanged from it. One died of thirst in prison before she could be executed. The last one died while they were torturing her because she would not admit to being a witch.”
“How did you know that?” Selena said.
“I know how everyone died,” he answered, as though that made sense. In his job as the Jeweled Scion for the Prince of Nothing, he had ushered the souls of the dead beyond the Veil. And even though Dezzy had died in 1987, the Jeweled Scion had existed for all of time so, technically, Dezzy had always been the Jeweled Scion and knew everything the Scion knew. Vincent didn’t understand the logistics of it at all.
“You are correct,” Selena said. “You were truly dead once?”
“Oh, yeah. Car wreck. But Vincent brought me back.”
“With biomancy?” she said. Dezzy shrugged.
“You know, I don’t know. It’s like a thing that can’t happen but it did happen. And when can’t happens happen you just gotta roll with it, man.”
“I see,” Selena said. “The bakery is ahead.”
There was no place to park on Main Street. Vincent passed the bakery and looked at the black and green sign hanging over the shop. There was a line of customers stretching out the door. Many of those who left carried black and green striped boxes with them.
“Popular place,” Vincent said.
“So it would seem,” Selena agreed.
“Not that popular when you were here last?”
“Find a parking space,” she said.
They had to take a side street and then turn down another street before Vincent found a place they could stop. He parked in front of a small bungalow with too many rose bushes out front.
“Man, this whole town smells like popcorn. I dig it,” Dezzy said. The sounds of the fair several blocks away filled the air. Whistles and bells, screams of delight, and overlapping music from several sources.
“Weird reason for a celebration,” Vincent said. Without a visible mirror, Selena remained silent.
“Let’s head to that bakery, man. I bet a witch can make some seriously good pie,” Dezzy said as he started walking.
“Why would you think that?”
“Magic, man. Like a fully magical pie. That has to be good. It’d be like grumbleberry pie.”
“What’s grumbleberry pie?”
“I don’t know man, that’s why it’s going to be awesome to try it!”
Dezzy bounced on his toes with unconcealed excitement and continued down the street.
“Stay alert,” Fix said. Vincent knew Selena could hear Fix, and so did Fix, for that matter. But it was good advice. If Selena thought he was her killer, she probably wouldn’t be too worried about anything bad happening to him.
The crowd on Main Street was huge. Dezzy and Vincent had to weave through groups of people carrying bags and boxes of prizes and food and other treats they had picked up. Some were dressed in witch costumes while others looked like latter-day hippies decked out in raw stone jewelry and long, flowing robes.
They reached the bakery and its considerable line. Vincent stood outside the large window and looked in. Selena was reflected back at him in the glass.
“Abigail,” she said, looking inside. Vincent could see the woman Selena was focusing on behind the bakery counter. She was tall, with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looked up as soon as Vincent laid eyes on her, staring back at him.
“She sees us,” he said. The woman, Abigail, said something to a shorter blonde woman. She also turned to look out the window.
“Sandra,” Selena said with some kindness in her voice. “It is good to see them again.”
“Should we go in?” Vincent asked.
“Of course,” Selena said. He turned away from the window and walked down the line of customers waiting to get in. He found Dezzy near the end of the line.
“Saved you a spot, man. This place is really popular. Gary here came all the way from New Jersey,” Dezzy said, pointing to the man before him. Gary, a short, middle-aged man, nodded his head.
“Hey,” Gary said over his shoulder.
“Hi,” Vincent replied. “The women inside are Selena’s sisters, I think.”
“Family business, that’s cool,” Dezzy said. “How are you going to explain everything?”
“I think maybe they know already. They were looking at me through the window like they recognized me.”
“You think they saw Selena?”
“Maybe. Maybe they can sense her or something.”
“Right. I suppose they’ll be happy to see their sister again. Even if she is a dude now.”
Gary turned around and looked at Dezzy, then Vincent. Dezzy shrugged.
“Gotta watch what you say sometimes,” Vincent said quietly.
“Yeah, I guess. I hear the cupcakes here are the best ever. We should snag a box.”
The line progressed at a brisk pace into the bakery. The sense of power that permeated the whole town was especially strong downtown where they were. Vincent felt like if he looked down, he’d see it flowing around his ankles like water. He couldn’t sense where it was coming from or even what it was for, however. If anything, it felt like errant energy. Like power overflow that was being wasted.
Vincent wished he understood more about primal magic, and blood magic for that matter. He couldn’t see any flows of anything anywhere. Not even those little red pops of blood magic that he was used to.
Gary stepped into the bakery, taking his place in line behind other customers. Vincent and Dezzy stood in the doorway, looking into the small shop. There was a cooler case that wrapped around two sides of the bakery, plus racks of unrefrigerated treats on the walls behind. Cupcakes, tarts, pies, and donuts were stacked all over. Abigail and Sandra tended to customers. A third woman who looked older than the other two brought out more stock from a pair of swinging kitchen doors and replenished the cases.
Abigail’s eyes were on Vincent the moment he stepped in the doorway. Her expression was unreadable, but she was clearly suspicious of him. Her gaze was fixed on him.
“You go ahead and order whatever,” Vincent said. “I think I need to talk to her.”
“Cool. You want cupcakes?”
“Yeah, whatever. I trust you,” Vincent said. Dezzy smiled and clapped him on the back.
“I trust you too, man.”
Vincent stepped out of the line to the side. Abigail whispered something to Sandra and cleaned her hands off on a rag before removing her apron. She walked around the display case and approached Vincent.
“Hi, my name’s—”
“Come with me,” Abigail said. She did not wait for him to answer, she simply left the building. Vincent nodded to Dezzy and followed her out. She was already crossing the street. He jogged to catch up.
“Hey, my name is Vincent Donnelly,” he said.
“I know who you are,” Abigail said. She reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street and continued walking, away from the bakery and the festival crowds.
“You do?”
“Of course. I’ve been expecting you,” she said. She had not turned to face him yet and her pace was brisk.
“Oh. How did you—?” Vincent asked.
“I can feel Selena’s power all over you. She was my sister, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Vincent said. Abigail turned down a street into a quiet neighbor
hood.
“Do you? I wonder—what did you come here for, Mr. Donnelly?”
“To find out what Selena wanted. Wants, I guess.”
Abigail turned up the path toward a small, yellow-sided house. There was a floral archway over the path. Vincent followed her under it and felt a chill as they passed through.
“That was some kind of magic,” Fix said. Vincent turned to look at the arch. He couldn’t see anything strange about it.
“What just—”
Abigail’s fist hit him like a brick. He fell back onto the lawn. She was a tall woman, but slender. She didn’t look particularly muscular. Her punch was brutal, however.
“You think you can kill my sister, steal her power, and then come do the same to me? To the rest of our coven?” Abigail said with disdain. She kicked him and his body lifted from the ground. It felt like getting hit by a moving vehicle.
“No, I’m not—”
She kicked him again, and he felt something crack in his chest. He coughed blood onto her lawn. No one on the streets seemed to notice as the woman continued her assault on him.
“Not what? You’re not a killer? You’re not a bad man? I can sense her power inside of you, Mr. Donnelly. I can feel her!”
The front door of the house opened. Another woman with short, curly hair stepped out onto the porch. She looked at Vincent and frowned.
“He feels like her,” the woman said.
“I know. I hate it,” Abigail said.
“We should bring him inside.”
“No one can see anything. The Dark Mirror enchantment is up.”
“Still. His blood will ruin the lawn,” the other woman said.
Abigail looked around and straightened the dress she was wearing.
“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Give me a hand?”
The second woman descended the steps and approached Vincent. She bent down to pick up his ankles. She dropped him almost as quickly as.
“He feels like her,” the woman said. Abigail nodded.
“I know. I don’t know how, but it seems like he stole all of her power. Didn’t you, Mr. Donnelly?”
She leaned down into his face. Vincent grunted. He was sure he had broken ribs. His jaw hurt as well, but it seemed like he could still move it.