Red Witch: Book Two of the Wizard Born Series

by Geof Johnson

  “I’ve been working on some new material lately. I took my dummy with me to my church youth group last Sunday and did a little ventriloquism… tried out some new jokes.” He held up one thumb. “I think it’s gonna be good.”

  “Maybe you’ll win.”

  Rollie poured food into the bowl inside the cage. “Hope so. Fifty grand is a lot of money.”

  * * *

  “Dad, can Jamie and I watch a movie in the basement tonight?” Fred asked that night as she and her father stood on their concrete patio.

  Larry threw a match on the charcoal, watched it flare up, and turned to face her. “No, not during the party.” He opened the back door and Fred followed him inside, where Lisa was making hamburger patties at the kitchen sink.

  “Why not?” Fred said.

  “Because I want you upstairs with us so I can keep an eye on you.”

  “But the party is gonna be boring. It’s just all you parents. Rollie told me he’s not coming.”

  “His parents are,” Lisa said from the sink.

  “Whoopie.” Fred held up her index finger and twirled it. “Well, how ’bout if we watch at Jamie’s house?”

  Larry pulled buns out of a paper grocery bag on the kitchen table. “Not without a chaperone.”

  “What do you think we’re going to do, Dad? We’re just going to watch a movie or something.”

  Larry stopped and gave her a steady look. “It’s the something I’m worried about.”

  Fred pouted. “You treat me like a baby.”

  “Honey,” Lisa said, “it’s not that we don’t trust you, it’s just that it’s not appropriate, that’s all.”

  Larry pulled out more buns. “I don’t trust them. I was a teenager, once.”

  Fred scowled. “Yeah, back in the dark ages.” She could tell that her father was trying to pretend the matter was settled by turning his back to her, taking paper plates out of their packages. “Okay then. Jamie and I will go riding around in his car.”

  Her father turned to face her. “No, you won’t.”

  “Am I grounded?”

  “Well…no.”

  “Then we can go, right?”

  “Larry,” Lisa said, “I’d rather they stuck around. Then I wouldn’t worry about them.”

  Larry stopped and looked at Fred, then Lisa, then back at Fred. He made fists with both hands and gritted his teeth. “Fine. Watch a movie in the basement.”

  “Thanks, Daddy!” Fred threw her arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  He shook one finger at her. “But don’t do anything your mom and I wouldn’t do.”

  Chapter 6

  Evelyn set her coffee cup down on the table and wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

  “The toilet must be backed up again.” Connie turned in her seat and looked at Ray, who was watching the baseball playoffs in the living room. “Honey, did you call the plumber?”

  Ray kept his eyes glued to the television. “It’s Sunday night. All I got was their answering service.”

  “Do you need to borrow my bathroom?” Evelyn said. Her condo was close to Connie’s, less than a stone’s throw away.

  Connie frowned. “We may have to. But I don’t know what we’ll do in the middle of the night. Ray gets up all hours to pee. He’ll never make it ’till morning.”

  “You could put a big pot under the bed.” She laughed. “A chamber pot.”

  “Like we used to use at Grannie Sarah’s.” Connie turned around again. “You hear that, Ray? We’re gonna put a pot in our bedroom for you to go in during the night.”

  “Ha ha,” Ray said.

  Evelyn fingered her cup. “Did you call Carl?”

  “Rachel said he’s working.”

  “Hmm.” She rubbed her chin with the knuckle on one finger. “I bet Jamie could fix it.”

  “Does he know anything about plumbing?”

  “Probably not, but he could use his magic.”

  Connie lowered her eyebrows and took a deep breath through her nose. “I don’t know.” She raised her voice. “What do you think, Ray? Want to ask Jamie to do his magic on the toilet?”

  “If it’ll get you to leave me alone so I can watch the game.”

  Evelyn pulled out her phone and called Jamie.

  A few minutes later, Jamie stepped through a glowing doorway into Connie’s living room. “Hey, Uncle Ray,” he said as the door winked out.

  Ray grunted a greeting.

  “Whatcha watchin?” Jamie glanced at the TV. “Oh, baseball.”

  “In here, Jamie,” Evelyn said.

  Jamie walked into the kitchen, and Connie said, “That was fast. Did you fly?”

  “No ma’am, I made a doorway. I’m in the middle of studying for a big test, and I didn’t want to take the time to drive.” He frowned. “Don’t tell Mom. She doesn’t want me doin’ stuff with magic that I can do the old-fashioned way.”

  “She’s starting to sound like you, Evelyn,” Connie said.

  Evelyn nodded. “I think that’s a good policy. I don’t want you getting lazy, either, but I think it’s okay that you made a doorway.”

  Connie shook her head slowly. “I’m still trying to get used to that. Sure is convenient, though, isn’t it?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Jamie said. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to get this done and hurry back.”

  Evelyn led him to the bathroom, and he knelt by the toilet, closed his eyes and put one hand on the bowl. After a moment he looked up and said, “There’s a clog about five feet down.” He closed his eyes again and furrowed his brow. He stood and pushed the handle down, and it flushed with a satisfying whoosh.

  “There you go. Good as new.” He turned the water on in the sink and spoke as he washed his hands. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll head back home.”

  Jamie and the two sisters walked back into the living room. Jamie said to Ray, “Enjoying the game?”

  He looked at Jamie and scowled. “When these two biddies aren’t pestering me, I am.”

  “Why don’t you watch in your bedroom?”

  “This is our only television,” Connie said. “It’s wasteful to have more than one in this little condo.”

  Jamie looked at Evelyn. “She sounds just like you, Gramma.”

  “That’s a good thing, Jamie.” Evelyn kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

  “My pleasure.” Jamie looked at Ray. “You want to come watch at my house? We have a nice TV in the basement now. I could bring you back as soon as it’s over.”

  Ray’s eyebrows lowered. “Through a doorway?”

  “It’s fast. Express service.”

  Evelyn could tell from Ray’s expression that he was seriously considering it. Funny how our attitude about magic has changed so fast, she thought, now that we know how convenient it is.

  Ray gave his head a tight shake. “Maybe some other time.”

  “Okay. See you later.” Jamie outlined the doorway, stepped through and was gone.

  * * *

  Evelyn lay in bed later that night, pondering what had happened: Her grandson had performed an astounding feat of magic, making a doorway and crossing miles of space as if he were walking from the bedroom to the hall, and he’d acted as if it were an ordinary, everyday thing.

  When I see his reaction to the magic, it seems almost normal…almost…but when I really think about it, it’s unbelievable.

  Then Jamie had performed the most mundane chore of fixing a stopped-up toilet, just by touching the bowl. Amazing. She chuckled and thought, I wonder if Merlin ever had to fix any plumbing.

  * * *

  Jamie gasped as he vainly tried to make up the gap between him and Bryce on Monday afternoon’s workout. Bryce stopped at the edge of the football field, which was their usual finish, looked at his watch and scowled, shaking his head.

  Jamie finished and glanced at his own watch. That’s a pretty good time. Bryce obviously doesn’t think so. Jamie caught up with his f
riend, who was staring across the field with his hands on his hips, his dark eyes hard. Bryce turned to Jamie when he neared. “Too slow,” he said.

  “What do you mean, too slow?” Jamie said, still breathing heavily. “That was probably our best run this year.”

  “Sill not good enough.” Bryce walked toward the locker room without looking at Jamie.

  “Are you crazy? That was a good time, even for a college workout.” Jamie wiped sweat from his face. “Besides, it’s not like we’re shootin’ for scholarships or anything.”

  Bryce continued to walk, wordlessly.

  “Bryce?”

  Bryce stopped and turned to face Jamie. “I am.”

  “I am what?”

  “Shooting for a scholarship.”

  “Why?”

  Bryce shrugged and opened the door to the locker room, stepped in, and closed it behind him.

  Jamie stared at the door, mouth open. What was that all about?

  * * *

  Fred glanced at the clock high on the wall of Angela’s Dance Studio, Room B, where she taught a beginner’s tap dance class — all five-year-olds, six girls in black leotards and one reluctant boy in short pants. The large mirror on one wall seemed to multiply their numbers, doubles in the glass mimicking their every move. A long ballet bar stretched across the opposite wall, and the floor was a tough wood laminate that gave their taps a satisfying crack when they struck it. A wheeled plastic cart stood in one corner with a boom box on top.

  Fred turned off the music and clapped her hands. “It’s six o’clock, kids, time to go.” All of the children stopped and clapped for her, a tradition at Angela’s, then ran to get their bags against the wall near the door. “Good class, everybody. I’ll see you Saturday. Hurry now. Your moms are waiting.”

  She was swarmed at the knees by girls offering goodbye hugs. “Oh, thank you!” Fred said. “Bye now.” The lone boy waited until the girls were through before offering his farewell. He stood sheepishly next to Fred, one thumbnail between his teeth, before throwing his little arms around her and saying, “Bye, Miss Callahan.” He looked up at her and grinned, arms still around her knees. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mathew.” He’s so cute. She patted his dark, curly-haired head and he ran to the open door, where his mother stood, waiting patiently. “Thanks, Fred,” his mother said. “See you Saturday.”

  Fred waved goodbye and watched the door close behind them. Then she pulled the CD from the boom box and put in one of her own. Now I need to work on my routine. I want to be good for the talent search show. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, then she pressed the play button and began moving.

  She’d begun her dancing career in that very same room, years and years ago. How old was I? She tried to remember. Six? Seven? She whirled and tapped across the floor. How many classes has it been since? Over a thousand, she realized. Wow. She tried a multiple turn move that took her from wall to wall. It doesn’t seem like that many.

  She danced — shuffle toe toe step heel flat, shuffle toe toe step heel flat. She streamlined the moves — shuffle toe toe step, shuffle toe toe step, side to side, increasing the speed, watching her reflection in the mirror until her feet seemed to blur and the clack of her shoes became the rapid rattle of hail on a tin roof.

  I think this routine will do it, she thought as she danced. Fred — and Rollie and Jamie, too — had an advantage other contestants didn’t: All the experience from the shows that Jamie’s grandmother had arranged for them, shows at hospitals, Elks Clubs, retirement homes, and many other places. She hardly ever got nervous in front of an audience anymore.

  But I’m not gonna get cocky. I‘m gonna work hard. Jamie might not want to win, but I do. And if I don’t win, Rollie will. We’ll show ’em what the Crew can do.

  * * *

  Carl sat at the kitchen table, trying to read the paper while Rachel made dinner, but he was having trouble focusing. He kept stealing glances at Jamie and Fred, sitting on the couch, playing some kind of game. Jamie was making colorful magic glowing balls float through the air as if he were juggling them. Fred seemed to be trying to pick a certain one by touching it before it disappeared. The rules were unclear from where Carl sat, but the kids were laughing and having a good time.

  He’s so amazing, Carl thought as he watched Jamie gesture theatrically and produce a string of bright blue balls, little azure suns, while every third one would be yellow, which seemed to be the one Fred was supposed to touch, though Jamie was obviously trying to trick her some of the time. He can do the most fantastic things. Jamie laughed as he changed a yellow ball into a red one before Fred could get to it.

  He can fly, travel to distant worlds in an instant, talk to animals, and blast mountains to rubble, among other things. A disturbing thought occurred to him. He’s the most powerful person on the planet. Then Fred, apparently fed up with Jamie’s tricks, reached down and pinched him hard on his bottom. Carl could read Jamie’s lips from across the room…Ow!

  Well, maybe the second-most powerful.

  Chapter 7

  Rita sat at the bar with Cassandra at The Rusty Screw. The familiar bar top that she rested one elbow on was old and worn, carved with the initials from past patrons — B.D. had a phone number below it — and it smelled vaguely of rancid beer from too many past spills. A haze of smoke blanketed the air, making the pool players in the adjoining room appear fuzzy and greyish.

  The stool she sat on was covered in ancient brown vinyl, with a split on top where the stuffing tried to escape and the foot rest squeaked from a loose screw. Neon signs on the walls spelling out various beer brands supplied the only illumination, aside from the occasional cigarette lighter, and the pale wooden floor was in dire need of a refinishing that it would never get.

  Rita and Cassandra watched a couple on the far side of the room by the dart boards. Cassandra snapped her gum and said, “Did you tell Beau not to wear the amulet ’till he got close to Bernadette? Don’t want some stray floozy throwin’ herself at him.”

  “Yeah, he knows,” Rita said, stubbing out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on the bar. “I told him what to do.”

  “Do you think it’s working?”

  Rita pulled out a fresh cigarette from a pack in her purse. “Bernadette should be rubbin’ all over him by now.” She accepted a light from the bartender, sucking in her cheeks as she inhaled, the end of the cigarette flaring red, then she turned back to Cassandra.

  “It’s kinda workin’.” Rita shook her head slightly. “Not our best charm, that’s for sure. I’m not sure that one hair he gave us was really Bernadette’s.”

  Cassandra took another drag from her cigarette, turning her head away as she blew the smoke out of one side of her mouth. “I hope it works. They would make a cute couple, don’t you think? I like their way their names sound together: Beau and Bernadette.” Her laugh was short, practically a grunt. “Bernadette and Beau. They might’ve ended up as an item even without our help.”

  “Yeah, well don’t spread that around." She tapped her ashes into the ashtray. “Bad for business.”

  Cassandra unfolded her long legs and stood, adjusting her black leather miniskirt as she said, “Keep an eye on my purse while I go to the little girls’ room.” She walked away toward the restroom with her cigarette dangling from one hand, knocking against a few barstools as she went. Rita watched her go for a moment before turning her attention back to the couple.

  Come on, Bernadette, she thought. At least squeeze his thigh or something. The skinny dark-haired woman in jeans and a halter top kept brushing up against Beau in between rounds of darts, but nothing more amorous than that. She’s warming up to him. Maybe he’ll be happy with that. She sighed deeply. As long as he thinks the amulet is doing its job. She squeezed her lips together. If Isabelle had been with us when we made it, I wouldn’t have to worry.

  She tapped a red-painted fingernail against the bar in time to the music and a couple started danc
ing by the jukebox against the wall. Wouldn’t mind dancing right now. She surveyed the room to see if any of her regular dance partners were there.

  “So what do you think?” She heard from behind her. She turned to see Alphonse, the short, stout bartender, grinning, his gold tooth glinting in the neon light, pointing to his chest. He wore a white T-shirt with a picture of a large rust-colored screw in the center, and over it in large letters it said Screw U. Underneath in smaller print it said The Rusty Screw, Thibodaux, Louisiana.

  “What do I think about the shirt?” Rita asked.

  “Just got ’em in,” Alphonse said, still grinning. “Wanna but one? Only ten bucks.”

  “Al, you know white’s not my color. Got any in black? Or maybe red?”

  Alphonse frowned. “We’d have to pay an extra charge for the printing ’cause the ink would have to be white.”

  “Print some black ones, they’ll sell.” She waved one hand at the room behind her. “Look around. Half the people in here are wearing black.”

  Alphonse scanned the room. “Yeah, probably shoulda’ done black in the first place.”

  “Tell you what: I’ll buy one of the white ones if you’ll help me sell some of my DUI powder tonight. I brought ten packets.”

  “Deal.” He pointed a thumb toward the end of the bar. “Derek’s probably gonna need some. He’s getting pretty wasted, and he’s already got a DUI charge on his record.”

  “And Deputy Fife might be lurking under the overpass again.”

  “Rita, you know John Paul hates it when you call him that.” Alphonse set a mug under a beer tap and pulled the handle down; a golden brown liquid poured into the glass.

  “John Paul is such a deputy do-right. He cramps my style.”

  Alphonse nodded toward the restrooms as he poured. “Here comes your partner in crime.”

  Rita turned to see Cassandra coming toward her, bumping against barstools again as she walked, a cigarette carelessly waving in one hand.

  Cassandra plopped on her bar stool and said, “There was a line in the ladies’ room. I think Zoe was doing something naughty in there and holding up the show.” She chortled and took a drag from her cigarette.