Magician's Muse

by Linda Joy Singleton

  With a whoosh of cold air, Zathora soared toward me, the glittering Muse in her hand like an avenging sword. “Foolish girl!” the ghost shrieked, no longer a shadowy fog but as solid and as real as a living person. From the cries in the audience, I knew others saw her, too.

  “Stay away from me!” I cried, backing up.

  “Kill her now and be done with this nonsense!” Zathora hissed.

  Genevieve looked in bewilderment from me to the ghost, so pale she could be a ghost herself. Her gaze swiveled to the men in the audience—some were pointing but most were sitting still in their seats, shocked. Zathora’s rage made her visible to everyone.

  “You’re ruining everything!” Genevieve wailed. “This was supposed to be my night and now they’re all laughing at me.”

  “You shouldn’t have lied to me!” I retorted. “You can’t make me drink poison!”

  “The show must go on, and if you won’t do it, then I will.” Genevieve’s gaze was focused on the goblet and her next words were so low I almost didn’t hear them. “Zathora will tell you how to bring me back—after I’m dead.”

  Then Genevieve put the goblet to her lips.

  And fell to the floor.

  Dead.

  Shouts rang from the audience, and the first to reach the stage was Arturo.

  Sobbing, he cradled his wife in his arms. “Gen, oh why … why?”

  “She wanted respect,” I said softly.

  “I respect her. I love her. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.” The balding man looked up, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I don’t know what to do … she’s not breathing. Oh my god! Please, if you know how to help her … do it!”

  Darkly garbed magicians were rising from their chairs, coming to the stage. I could escape now, and no one would stop me in the pandemonium. But Genevieve looked so helpless, so broken. And I remembered her last words.

  “Arturo, I can help!” I said quickly, fear rising as I noticed Grey coming toward the stage. “I can find out how to bring her back, but not if the others crowd the stage.”

  Arturo didn’t hesitate, waving his arms high and whistling for quiet. He ordered them to return to their seats. He spoke powerfully, with tears still falling from his eyes. The audience obeyed. Even Grey backed up, his hands concealed under his cloak.

  “Do whatever you can,” Arturo said, turning back to me.

  “Even if it involves a ghost?”

  “There’s no such … oh, damn it. I know what I saw. Just save her!” His reply showed that if he had to choose between his wife and success, he chose his wife.

  “Zathora,” I called out, shivering in the ghost-cold air. She’d faded, but her wand still glittered brightly so I knew she was there. “Can you hear me?”

  The air whirled with flickering shadows, one shape solidifying in the air mere feet above me. “I care not to hear from you.”

  “This is your fault,” I accused her. “Tell me how to revive Genevieve.”

  Her dark eyes flashed. “Why should I?”

  “Because you owe it to her.”

  “I owe no one,” she said haughtily.

  “She’s dying because of you!”

  “I beg to differ. She’s already dead.”

  Her tone was sharp and petulant, so distant from compassion that I knew appealing to her conscience would never work. I tried a different tactic.

  “If you let her die, you’ll never get another chance to reclaim your reputation. Look around—this audience is full of magicians who didn’t believe ghosts exist, but they see you now. They can’t deny the truth. Revive Genevieve and you will be respected as a master magician.”

  Her form darkened, but I could tell I had her interest. I continued. “Don’t you want to be famous as the only magician to bring the dead back to life?”

  “I am the only one with that knowledge,” she boasted. “But I won’t help you, not after you spoiled everything.”

  “I didn’t take the drink, but Genevieve did. If you bring her back, you will have proved you can achieve miracles. You’ll be famous!”

  “Famous isn’t enough!” Zathora snapped. “Foolish girl, do you not realize that my goal is not fame? I wanted you!”

  “Me?” I stumbled back a step.

  “Your lovely, youthful body. Once your soul had left, I planned to slip in and bring myself back to life as I meant to a century ago. In your body, I would have a long life ahead as the most powerful magician in this world. The secrets I can bring to the magician world are astounding.”

  “So you really were going to kill me?” I demanded. “Did Genevieve know?”

  “Don’t be foolish! Of course not, or she never would have helped me. She thought you would be safe. But now it’s all for nothing. I refuse to begin again as a middle-aged woman. Let her die.”

  “No! Bring her back!” I begged.

  “I see nothing in it for me.” Zathora floated higher, her essence moving the crystals so chimes sang with her laughter.

  I wasn’t sure how much Arturo could hear or see, but he seemed to know that his wife was slipping away with the ghost. He clutched my gown. “Do something! Please!”

  What could I do? I had no power over a ghost.

  But I do, a voice spoke in my head.

  “Opal!” I cried, ignoring the puzzled look from Arturo.

  I have told you I am never far away, I merely allow you to discover your own path. But I won’t allow another spirit to interfere with my duty toward you.

  “So you’ll help?”

  As you might say, it’s time to kick some ghost butt.

  “So let’s kick it,” I told her.

  “What is that disturbance?” Zathora called out, wavering closer to me. The jewels on the Muse glowed brighter, as if it were solid enough for me to reach out and grab it.

  Do it! Take it! Opal urged.

  “Take what?”

  Do you remember the message I passed on to you?

  I started to say no, but then it came back to me: Hold close the crystal staff to save heart or the old soul seeking to command death will steal beyond life.

  The old soul was Zathora, and the crystal staff had to be the Muse.

  So I jumped into the air and grabbed hold of Zathora’s Muse. I wasn’t sure who was more surprised when the wand slipped from her hand to mine. And it was real, solid, and blazing with power. As Zathora reached out for me, a wave of cold air swept her like she was caught up in a tidal wave. A tidal wave named Opal. Go, Opal!

  “Help my wife,” Arturo pleaded.

  I looked at the wand, unsure for a moment, and then I just knew what to do. I held the Muse purposefully and visualized Genevieve, radiant and alive. I pushed aside my anger toward her and remembered her laughter and kindnesses. She’d never meant to hurt me, after all, but had been tricked by the lies of a twisted ghost.

  Lightness flowed around me as I embraced all the loving, wonderful things about life. Very carefully I brought the tip of the wand down to Genevieve and touched her heart. Save heart.

  Electricity surged through me, as if lightning was mixing with fireworks. Pushed backwards, the world spun for a moment, then slowed. Stars burst around me and I came close to fainting for real. But then I heard a sound that shocked me back to awareness. A moan … from Genevieve.

  “Gen!” Arturo cried joyfully, as his wife’s eyes flickered open. “You’re alive.”

  She lifted her head, smiling. “Did you ever doubt me?”

  Sobbing, he buried his face in her blond hair and embraced his wife. The audience sprang to life, chairs scraping and men shouting.

  This was my cue to get the hell out of there. I tucked Zathora’s wand in my back pocket and hurried to the door at the side of the stage, which in fact opened to the outside. The night had calmed—no breeze, only sparkling stars and a moon sliced into a curving smile.

  I’d only taken a few steps when a voice called, “Wait! Sabine.”

  I turned to see Josh hurrying toward me, look
ing a little like Harry Potter with his black cloak flapping behind him.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, bending slightly to catch his breath.

  “Far away from here. I’ve had enough.”

  “I know … I mean, what happened on the stage … it was … unbelievable!” He started to reach for me but stiffened. “Are you all right? Were you hurt by that … well, whatever it was?”

  “I’m fine. But I’ll be better when I’m at home where I belong. Sorry I won’t see your performance.”

  “As if that’s going to happen—definitely not tonight. Everyone’s too freaked out.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

  Josh rubbed his forehead, frowning. “When Genevieve started breathing again, Grey acted really strange. Instead of going to see how she was doing, he took off.”

  “He ran away because he knew that Genevieve would tell the brotherhood how they’d conspired with a ghost. Grey pretended not to believe in ghosts, but he supported Genevieve’s plan to bring one back from the dead in exchange for influence with her husband. Grey was determined to win the competition at all costs.”

  “You don’t have any proof of that,” Josh argued.

  “I heard him. He threatened me and Jade, and like I told you, he even threatened you—he said he’d kill you if Jade tried to leave.”

  “I just can’t believe that. He’s my friend …” Josh sounded a little less sure this time.

  “He’s not a good guy, Josh, but you are,” I said softly. “Did you know that’s why Jade came here? She wanted to rescue you.”

  “Why?” He blinked. “We hardly know each other.”

  “She couldn’t figure it out either.”

  “I never even saw her while she was here. I wish I could thank her.”

  “She’s dating Evan, so you can thank her when you get home.”

  “I will.” He shifted uneasily. “But I wonder about …

  well, what now?”

  “I’m out of here—even if I have to hike for miles in the dark.”

  “You won’t have to do that. I’ll give you a flashlight.”

  “Modern technology in this place?”

  “Hey, it gets dark at night. You should see what the other guys have stashed—video games, iPods, cameras, and one dude even has a mini battery-operated refrigerator stocked with energy drinks. The old guys like Arturo and Henry are strict about rules, but the rest of us enjoy our secrets.”

  “You don’t have to stay here,” I told him. “Come with me.”

  Josh shook his head. “Tonight was weird, but these guys are my friends and I want to learn from them. I’ll stay until the initiation ceremony so I can do my performance. Then, whether I’m chosen or not, I’ll be home for Christmas like I promised my parents.”

  “They’ll be glad to see you.”

  “Not only them.”

  I tensed, afraid of what he might say.

  “Horse, too,” he added, which made us both smile.

  I touched his hand softly. “Josh, I really am sorry … for everything.”

  “After what I think I saw tonight, I owe you an apology … things I was so sure about, well, I’m going to have to think about them.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you think we … I mean … we could … ?”

  I put my hand to his lips. “Don’t say it. Let’s just …”

  “Be friends?” He groaned. “Please don’t say that.”

  “I won’t. I respect you too much.”

  He sighed, looking deep into my eyes. My heart stirred for a moment, until an image of Dominic came to me. Josh was a great guy … just not my guy.

  I wasn’t sure what to say, knowing we’d see each other at school and not wanting to lose him as a good friend. So I stepped back and simply asked, “Are we okay?”

  “Sure.” He gave me a wry smile. “We’re cool.”

  “But that isn’t.” I pointed to the small inked PFC on his arm. Performers against Frauds and Charlatans. “That tatt has to go.”

  “Why? Doesn’t it make me look dangerous?”

  I laughed. “Not even.”

  “What if I change the meaning?”

  “Performers For Clairvoyants?” I joked.

  “Don’t push your luck,” he teased. “I’m not sure what I saw or believe. It could have been an elaborate trick.”

  “Ghosts are real and you know it now, even if you’re afraid to admit it.”

  “I’m not afraid … just confused. But I can’t deny I saw something … a ghost?” He looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. “So ghosts are real?”

  “Not just ghosts.” I pointed to myself. “Psychics, too.”

  *

  Having a flashlight made hiking along the trail much easier, but it was scary being alone in the woods at night. Every time I heard a sound, I jumped nervously and shone my flashlight around. I never saw anything … but I was sure the night creatures saw me.

  When I neared the dam, so close to freedom, I started to relax—until I saw the lights.

  Two bobbing orbs, floating like ghosts, came down the path toward me. I was too exhausted to deal with any more ghosts tonight. Just go away, I thought. But the lights grew brighter, and then were so close I could see the shapes behind the orbs.

  A voice shattered the night. “Stop right there, whoever you are!”

  And I started laughing, crying, and running all at the same time.

  “Dad!” I cried, throwing my arms around him. “Oh my god! I never expected to see you here!”

  “Sabine! It really is you!” Dad squeezed me tight and whirled me off the ground like I was still a little girl.

  “How did you get here?” I asked him. “And who’s with you?”

  The other figure stepped out of a shadow, her black hair making her blend in with the night except for the streak of pink in it and her pale face makeup. “You sure cause a lot of trouble,” Thorn griped.

  “I’ve been told that before,” I said, giggling.

  “We came to rescue you, but it looks like you rescued yourself.”

  “I’ll tell you everything once we’re out of here. How did you find me?”

  “Duh,” Thorn said. “I’m a Finder.”

  “But Jade helped too.” Dad held me tight, ruffling my hair fondly. “We would have come sooner, but I only found out where you were a few hours ago. Jade called from Reno.”

  “Reno!” I started to ask what she was doing there, but then guessed she’d gone after her mother. Poor Jade. My mother might be bossy and annoying a lot, but at least she acted like a mother.

  On the way to the car, Dad explained that Nona called him, frantic because I was missing. They’d called my friends, and Manny told them I’d texted him about going to Arturo’s property. Thorn told Dad she had a feeling I was near a lake and offered to come along to help find me. But when they drove up here, they didn’t see my car and couldn’t get past Arturo’s security guards.

  They were ready to go to the police when Dad’s cell phone rang. It was Jade. After apologizing for not calling sooner, she told them how to get through the fence and follow the path by the dam.

  Then I was inside Dad’s car, inhaling the sweet lemon scent of the hanging air freshener. It was my turn for explanations, but suddenly I was so tired. One moment I was talking to Thorn, and the next I was waking up as the car pulled in at Nona’s house. Dad half-carried me into the house, which felt so safe.

  Thorn agreed to stay the night since it was so late, and Nona found a fold-out bed that Dad carried to my attic room. I sorted through my nightlight collection and chose a butterfly, not because it had any deep meaning, but because it had been a gift from Dad. Tonight he’d really come through for me.

  Thorn borrowed pajamas from me, then crawled underneath the covers.

  I tugged my covers over me, too hyped now to relax. My short nap had revived me and I wasn’t ready to go to sleep quite yet.

  “Thorn, now that we’re alone, I wa
nt to hear everything.”

  She turned toward me, propped on one elbow and looking about twelve without her makeup. “About what?” she asked, yawning.

  “You know,” I said impatiently. “Jacques? His murder? And what about that folder you saw in Jacques’ apartment?”

  “Oh, Pen and I found out a lot.” A slow smile played on Thorn’s face.” I know who killed Jacques.”

  Since she wasn’t a big talker, Thorn’s explanation was like a text—lots of details were missing. Still, I was able to get most of the story.

  While Penny-Love had been ready to forget about the whole “Jacques” drama, Thorn couldn’t stop thinking about it—especially that folder. “It seemed like such a coincidence to find photos of Josh and Grey in Jacques’ apartment,” she said. “I even dreamed about that folder. I had to find it. So I Googled everything I could about Oscar-aka-Jacques. From the memorial announcement, I found out names and addresses of his family, partner, and other police officers. Also, thanks to Manny’s hacking skills, I learned that a suspect was being sought for questioning in the murder.”

  She went on to describe the “suspect,” a guy in his twenties with a snake tattoo coiled on his cheek. Hoping to find the folder, Thorn drove to Jacque’s partner’s house and parked across the street. Just after she arrived, a car pulled up and parked in the driveway—driven by none other than Snake Tattoo.

  Thorn spied through her window and used her phone to snap pictures as Jacques’ partner—the guy with the sideburns they’d followed to the memorial service—came outside to meet Snake Tattoo. Once the men went inside, Thorn’s Finding radar led her to Sideburn’s car, which was fortunately unlocked. She found the boxes from Jacques’ apartment—and the folder. She took the folder home, and using an account Manny assured her was untraceable, emailed her photos of the meeting between Sideburns and Snake Tattoo to the detective in charge of Jacque’s murder.

  When she read through the folder, she discovered that it wasn’t a coincidence that Jacques had information on Josh and Grey. Jacques suspected Grey of several crimes, including the vandalism at Trick or Treats, and according to his notes, he thought Josh’s disappearance was suspicious. Since he was already working undercover at Sheridan High, he’d started to check into Grey’s background. There were notes in the folder on Grey’s disturbing history of violence—he’d attacked a girlfriend after she’d gone to a psychic who had warned her to stop dating him, and he’d been arrested for torching a New Age shop and nearly killing the owner. He’d jumped bail, and there was still an outstanding warrant for Thomas Greyson—which turned out to be only one of Grey’s aliases.