by Sarina Dorie
“Yep, perfect.”
As soon as Yamil left, I stuck the bird under my tutu and rubbed myself up against it. Nothing.
He ducked back in. “Oh, another thing… .” He looked me up and down.
I froze with the wooden bird between my legs.
Craptacular. He probably thought I was a freak. On the other hand, I was a freak.
“Never mind,” he said. “You do what you need to for getting ready.” He left.
Ten minutes later, I set up for my performance, the wooden bird on my table in plain sight. The Raven Queen had resumed her perch on the ten-foot-tall fence.
Thistledown, the handsome man who had come to my show the previous day, sat in the front row. He wore a red velvet cape and a pair of tie-dye shorts. He looked at home with fairgoers in all their unusual attire. He waved at me as I set up my table. I waved back. More witchy-looking people poured into the walled off area, crowding the space between children and parents and blocking the view with their tall hats. They kept glancing back at the Raven Queen, their anxiety palpable.
Yamil waved at me from backstage. “This is the best turnout yet. There’s a lot of people from yesterday who came back. Hey, are you going to do that juggling dildo trick again?”
They were vibrators, but I didn’t correct him.
“We’ll see.” I returned to my prop table.
Thistledown whispered none-too-quietly to the witch sitting next to him, “Did you see her yesterday? Isn’t she terrific? I can’t wait to see what she has in store for us today.”
Great, I was about to get snatched by a bunch of evil raven people and some hot guy I had been hoping I would go on a date with—in my fantasies—was going to see my epic fail. I couldn’t just fail in obscurity like normal people. The entire world had to see my doomed demise. Well, not the entire world, but a crowd of spectators. This was as bad as a public execution.
“I was the one who discovered her yesterday,” my fantasy boyfriend said.
A cool monotone slithered over the murmur of people waiting for the show to begin. “Do you think someone is going to give you a reward?” Thatch elbowed his way up the aisle and squeezed himself between my admirer and the witch beside him so that they had to scoot aside and make room for him.
Ugh. I wouldn’t put it past Thatch to sabotage my show. Considering the punch to the eye he’d received from my rescuers the night before, the slight puffiness could have been worse. He glared at me, a major chip on his shoulder.
This just kept getting worse and worse.
First, I had to keep from accidentally killing anyone, so I would be accepted into a magical school like I’d always wanted, and all my dreams would come true. Second, I had to fix the bird. Third, now that Thatch was here to get his revenge on me and ensure I failed, I had to somehow keep that from happening too. What else did I need to add to my list of miracles? How about turn Pinocchio into a real boy while I was at it?
The audience quieted as I greeted them. The music from Stage Left down the Sun Path was louder than the day before. I used the acoustics of the stage to help amplify my voice in the closed-off area. Without a microphone, I had to pretend I was a P.E. teacher shouting across the vastness of a school gym to be heard.
I turned on the portable radio and played my neo-circus music. The ring toss act flowed smoothly. I used my sleight of hand and tricked the audience with my usual illusions. I worked the bird into the disappearing/reappearing act, hoping that some unexpected magic might happen. It didn’t. Children volunteered as assistants. Even the witches—or Witchkin as I was learning they were called—smiled at my act. Some continued to glance at the ravens and Fae queen.
I fixed my gaze on the hot guy in the audience—Thistledown—who was smiling at me. I knew my magic was somehow related to sex or pleasure. Aside from having an orgasm on stage in front of all these people and traumatizing their children, I didn’t have any bright ideas. I was probably going to die.
Still, I had to try something.
I stared at Thistledown, tried my best to think sexy thoughts as I waved my handkerchief over the bird. “Presto chango,” I said.
The bird changed from dark wood to neon pink, bright green and vivid blue. The trick was met with tepid enthusiasm. It wasn’t as impressive as when I’d made the bird vanish into thin air—a.k.a. under the table five minutes before—but this was real magic. I waved my wand, muttering made up magic words, and the bright colors shifted and danced. The color coating the wood wasn’t paint, but butterflies fluttering their wings. The insects lifted away, the bird changing shape and shrinking. The entire form was made of butterflies. They flew into the air, dispersing into the tree.
I clapped my hands, quite pleased with myself. The audience’s reactions were mixed. The general public laughed and cheered. The wizards exchanged worried glances. The queen grinned, but not in a sheepish “Oh, look, you really are a witch. I guess I don’t get to steal you away” kind of smile.
One of the ravens snatched up a butterfly in her beak and swallowed it. Not a good sign.
The queen beamed with wicked delight.
I tried to look on the bright side. I had done magic. It was an improvement. Things were going as well as could be expected under the circumstances. I would just work butterfly collection into my next trick while looking at the hot guy and thinking naughty thoughts, and maybe I could do something fantabulously magical. I had the sexy thoughts part down now. Only, I wished I wasn’t so tired. That last bit of accidental magic had fatigued me.
On the other hand, when I thought back to the strongest encounters of the witchy kind in my life, the most powerful and dangerous spells hadn’t been because I’d been thinking about sex. It had been when I’d come into physical contact with a man. My gaze shifted to Thistledown, Mr. Sex Appeal.
“How about a volunteer from the audience for my next trick?” I asked.
People waved their hands.
Thistledown smiled pleasantly, but he didn’t raise his hand. I pointed at him anyway. He looked around, pointed to his chest, and shook his head.
I nodded. “Yes, you.”
“Heh, no, no, I’m not—” He glanced back at the Raven Queen. “No, thank you.” He leaned forward and whispered just loud enough for me to hear. “No offense, but I don’t want you to change me into butterflies.”
People around him chuckled.
Thatch stood up. “She wasn’t talking to you anyway, you imbecile.”
My eyes went wide. “Yes, I was.”
The audience laughed like it was a joke. Thatch stepped forward. He was going to ensure I failed.
“How about someone else, that lady in the back,” I said. I pointed to a woman dressed in a belly dance costume who had raised her hand. Belly dancers were sexy. It didn’t have to be a man. It had been a woman grinding up against me in the mosh pit orgy the night before. That had given me plenty of magical vaginal rainbows I could have used if I hadn’t been so distracted.
Thatch stepped onto the stage before I could select someone else. Even if he hadn’t tried to sell me to the Raven Court, I would have distrusted him. Baba had said my mother had done something to him, and that was why he wanted revenge. He’d told me himself that he hated me. From the evil eye he gave me, I was pretty sure hate was an understatement.
Still, he was what I had to work with. He was good looking in that sulky, emo sort of way. He had beautiful hair, and his face had a nice bone structure.
I went through the motions of making him pick a card, watching his every move. If I could, I would use magic—his magic?—my magic?—to solve my bird problem.
“We better prove to the audience you aren’t a plant,” I said loudly. I made him turn out the pockets of his dark slacks to prove there was nothing in them.
He turned out two more pockets in the breast of the slate-gray vest he wore over the high collared shirt. How he wore such dark colors and so many layers in the sun, and managed not to s
weat, was witchcraft in and of itself. I held up one of his arms and I showed nothing was up his sleeve and then did the same with the other. There was something up his sleeve, though. He carried his wand. I was so good at sleight of hand he didn’t notice me palm it.
If one magic wand helped me focus my magic, I could only imagine what two might do.
“What about your neckerchief?” I asked. I stood on tiptoe and tugged at the navy-blue cravat. I also took that moment to plant a card on him in his breast pocket. He ducked back and untied the cloth around his collar without my help.
“Wait a minute! Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” I asked, gesturing to his pants.
He drawled out with indifferent boredom. “You’ve already made me turn out the pockets in my pants. Nor would I keep—”
I pretended to untuck something from his pants’ pocket. He stepped back, frowning. He scowled even more when he saw I held his wand.
“Oh, I guess it was a wand.” I held it up for all to see.
The audience roared with laughter. I waved it at the butterflies, but they didn’t come together and transform back into the bird.
“Merlin’s balls!” His nostrils flared. “You already have one of my wands. You needn’t steal two.” His voice was dangerously quiet. He snatched his wand from me and tucked it back into his sleeve.
I spread out a deck of cards and had him select one. It was a standard trick. After shuffling again, I selected a card that I knew was wrong.
“Is this your card, sir?”
He crossed his arms. “No.”
“Huh. Where could it have gone?” I was ready to wipe that smirk off his face. “Maybe you should check your breast pocket.”
He did so, pulling out a card. He frowned.
“Well?” I asked.
“That’s not my card either. My card is the ace of spades. If I’m not mistaken, this is a two of diamonds.” A smile twitched at his lips as he handed the card back to me.
Craptacular! How could he not have the ace of spades? I’d done this trick a hundred times. Surely he’d switched the cards with magic to make me look bad.
I subjected him to the next trick I had up my sleeve. Literally up my sleeve. I had a pair of red and black lace panties for obstinate volunteers like him. I had no idea I would need them to get my mojo going today, so it was handy I had them.
“Maybe we should check in the, ahem, you know,” I said, waggling my eyebrows suggestively, “same place we found your magic wand.”
“I think not.” His pale cheeks actually flushed red, which made the audience laugh.
I strode forward. He took one giant step back. We played cat and mouse on the stage and the audience laughed like it was an act.
A woman’s shrill voice screamed out from the audience. “Oh my God, it was in my pocket! It’s the ace of spades!”
Not exactly where I’d intended for the card to end up, but I would take it. And what do you know, it was the belly dancer. She’d wanted to be my volunteer in the first place. How nice it had worked out for her. Though, I did wonder where she had a pocket in the scant amount of clothes she wore.
Thatch’s expression turned dour. “That is indeed my card.”
All eyes were on the woman, including his. I reached into the side of his pants and he squealed, drawing the audience’s attention as I withdrew a pair of red and black underwear, seemingly from his pants.
He stared at me in horror. The audience looked back at us.
“Oh, I guess that wasn’t the ace of spades in your pants after all,” I said.
The audience erupted into a roar. I grabbed his hand and bowed. He remained rigid and stiff.
He glared at me. “Do you know why I volunteered?” His voice was almost too quiet to hear under the cheers of the audience.
“To kill me? Make sure I failed? Help out the Raven—”
“To rescue you from the Raven Queen.”
I stared at him, uncertain he was saying what I thought he was.
“We must act quickly, before she steals you away as her tithe,” he said quietly. “Do you understand what I must do?”
He was the one who didn’t understand. He still wanted to drain me of my powers. But he didn’t know about my bargain with the Raven Queen. No matter what, she would have me, with or without magic. And if I failed to reanimate her bird, the queen would choose someone additional as her tithe. Possibly him.
I shook my head, trying to draw away.
He grabbed me by the arm. “We need to activate your powers like last night.” He turned his back on the audience, muttering the same incantation as the night before.
The cheers of the audience died down into an uncomfortable silence. People craned their necks, trying to figure out what he was doing.
Like last night, he’d said. Was I supposed to kiss him? On purpose? I thought he hated me.
I glanced at the Raven Queen. She tilted her head to the side, her gaze curious and bird-like. She leaned forward with interest. I did not want to go with her.
“Look at me. Focus,” he said.
His fingers became a caress on my wrist. Energy spiked inside me.
Forget draining me of my powers. I was going to use my powers, and he was going to help me, like it or not.
I jumped up into his arms and kissed him. This was a feat in itself considering how tall he was. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist like a monkey. My lips touched his and the kiss was nice, but not magical. I ran through the list of sexy thoughts in my brain again: the last book in Game of Thrones I was pining for, light up Star Trek shoes, naked firemen with tattoos, and … Derrick. That was the thought that had turned the knives into vibrators, I realized. What if it wasn’t random sexy thoughts? What if it needed to be more? Love? I concentrated on Derrick’s face, imagining I was kissing him.
Someone in the audience hooted and snickered.
The wind rustled the trees, bringing with it the perfume of faraway places. The tension in Felix Thatch’s muscles melted away. His arms wrapped around me. He kissed me like Derrick had that night we’d been together. My eyes were closed, so I couldn’t see, but I felt a transformation. I was kissing Derrick. It had to be Derrick. He smelled like mint and butterscotch. I ran my hand through his hair. It felt like the color blue, like clear skies and blueberries.
That was the moment it happened.
Electricity raced under my skin. Energy burned inside as hot as lava about to explode out of a volcano. Fireworks went off in front of my closed eyelids.
People in the audience catcalled. Their voices grew distant under the rush of the wind in the trees. Wings flapped around me.
I groped my hand into Thatch’s sleeve and stole his wand. I pointed in the approximate area I thought the table was situated—my eyes were closed so I didn’t know for sure—and I said the magic words, the name of my true love: “Derrick Winslow.”
Albeit, my lips were still pressed to Thatch’s so it sounded more like, “Merritt Mimsow.”
Like an antenna, my other hand shot upward, holding my pink-striped wand, aiming it at the butterflies resting on the branches of the tree above the stage. Lightning shot through me.
I broke away to look where I pointed the first wand, praying I hadn’t just shot lightning at someone in the audience.
The butterflies fell from the tree and spiraled around the stage in a kaleidoscope of color. People from the audience gasped and stared in awe. I concentrated on what I needed to happen, visualizing the butterflies condensing and solidifying into a bird.
I turned to stare into Felix Thatch’s eyes. No longer were they the stormy gray I was used to, but an electric blue like Derrick’s. I said Derrick’s name again. For the briefest moment, I wondered if I could bring him to me, if saying his name loud enough, desperate enough, I would enchant him back to me.
The color confetti of wings swirled around us and descended toward th
e table. They pressed smaller and tighter as they tumbled together. They darkened and took shape. The space between them solidified. On the table before me perched a raven. She turned her head over her shoulder at me, cawed and lifted off.
The crowd clapped and shouted in a wild frenzy of excitement. The wizards cheered.
Thatch dropped me to my feet, disgust painted across his face. He spat on the stage like that kiss had been the most disgusting thing in his life. “Perhaps I should clarify. That was not what I meant when I said I would assist you. I did not say you could kiss me, nor steal my magic.”
I felt lightheaded and dizzy. Spots danced before my eyes, and I had to blink several times to clear them. I grabbed onto his arm to keep from falling over.
He shrugged me off. “Are you even listening to me? What is it with you?” He snatched one wand out of my hand and then the other. I was too distracted by the rush of relief to care.
I gazed across the sea of faces at the Raven Queen. She appraised me with open curiosity, the kind of look I got from any average Joe who wondered how I made a trick work. She shook her head and laughed. People clapped, and she did too. I wasn’t sure if I should be apprehensive about her delight, but no one else looked concerned. She twisted into a spiral of black feathers and transformed into a large bird.
“Caw,” she said as she departed. I took that to mean, “We’ll meet again.”
The flock of birds all left at once. I didn’t see them snatch anyone away either.
Thatch stormed off the stage.
I realized I still held the red and black underwear from the illusion earlier. I waved the underwear in the air. “Hey, mister, don’t forget about these.”
He ignored me as he stalked away.
Bumblebub, who I hadn’t even realized sat in the audience, stood and clapped loudly. “Incredible! Isn’t she simply incredible? I reckon that’s the best magic show I ever seen.”
“I was the one who found her,” said Thistledown. He was still good-looking, but I didn’t find him quite as attractive as I had before. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t come on stage when I needed him.