by Gary Jonas
What did I want? Not a fish, of course. I’d just eaten. But I had to want something more than a nap. I waded deeper into the water. A fish bumped against my leg then swam away. It occurred to me that I was just an obstacle to others. I stood in the way without making any real difference. People bumped into me like that fish, then went on with their lives unaffected.
I didn’t want to engage with life because as long as I didn’t, I couldn’t fail at anything. I took few chances, and only acted when I was forced. In spite of the other Brett saying I might be in danger, I didn’t take him seriously. I just took his money because it seemed like the thing to do.
When the Ringo Twins came onto me, I went with them because they were hot, and I try not to turn down hot women even if they’re dangerous. And they are usually dangerous, truth be told. Hot women tend to have jealous boyfriends or husbands. In the old days, those were my riskiest plays, and they were worth it for the immediate gratification.
A wave splashed over my head, and I stopped walking. I was shoulder deep in the sea. What was I doing?
Another wave crashed into my face.
I backed up a few steps until I was waist deep.
When I turned around to look back to shore, I was farther out than I realized. A few people stared at me from the shore, probably wondering why some dude thought it was a good idea to walk into the ocean in his clothes.
The horizon called out to me, and I spun to face the water stretching away to a few ships and then across the Gulf. Maybe I could get a raft and float all the way to Florida then look back toward Texas and see nothing. All my troubles left behind.
The other Brett could take his stupid test, sign that stupid accord and become a stupid wizard. What difference did it make?
Everyone preferred him anyway.
If I walked away now, no one would care. Hell, odds were good no one would even look for me. Maybe the other Brett was right. Maybe I’d crumble to sand and be washed out to sea and spread around on the ocean floor, leaving the world as I found it.
No worse for wear.
No better.
No worse.
And my life would be meaningless.
And I’d be forgotten.
And the other Brett could go make a difference somehow.
It would be easy to just walk into the sea, let the Gulf swallow me up. I didn’t need a raft. I could be shark food. No one would notice.
Or I could go meet Gideon at Moody Gardens tonight. Kick the shit out of the other Brett, take the damn test myself, and become a full-fledged wizard.
Who was I kidding?
I could get in my car, drive to Colorado, get a job in a dispensary and smoke my life away.
I could go to Nashville, use my magic pick to get a job playing with a band.
I could fly to London. I could go to France or Italy or the Bahamas. I could do whatever the hell I wanted.
But what the hell did I want?
One thing was certain. I wasn’t going to find an answer standing waist-deep in the Gulf of Mexico.
I walked out of the water, reached into my pocket, and pulled out my phone.
Salt water and iPhones don’t go well together. The screen wouldn’t power on.
A little kid laughed at me and pointed. “You took your phone in the water? You’re retarded.”
“Thanks, kid,” I said.
Well, if nothing else, I managed to amuse a child.
As I walked toward the stairs that led up the seawall, I tossed my phone in one of the many trash cans. I could always buy another if I survived the night.
My shoes were where I’d left them near the stairs. I grabbed them, but didn’t bother to put them on. Instead, I carried them up the stairs. There was a bench with drawings on it relating facts about the way dolphins accompanied ferries across Galveston Bay. I sat on a dolphin and watched traffic drive by.
The wind picked up and chilled me.
It was time to go back to the hotel for a shower and a change of clothes.
Bigger decisions could wait.
I got up, walked to a crosswalk and waited for the light to change.
A limousine pulled up and stopped in the middle of the crosswalk right in front of me. A window buzzed down. Gideon leaned over.
“Brett?”
“Gideon?”
“Get in,” he said.
“Okay.”
And I did.
He drove down Seawall.
“You’re getting my seat wet,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“You smell like salt water.”
“You smell like Old Spice.”
He laughed. “I was surprised to see you.”
“You weren’t looking for me?”
“Nope. Just going to see a friend about a gun.”
“You planning to shoot me?”
“Do you want me to shoot you?”
“Not especially.”
“Then I won’t shoot you.”
“You going to ask me why I’m all wet?”
He shook his head. “None of my business.”
“I walked into the Gulf.”
“Okay.”
“You were looking for me, right?” I asked.
“No.”
“A little coincidental for you to find me.”
“My friend lives off 8th Street and Seawall, so I had to come this way.”
“Right.”
“You want me to drop you somewhere?” he asked.
“Let’s go to your friend’s house. Get that gun.”
He stopped at a light and turned to look at me. A grin split his face. “All right, you got me. I was looking for you, but I didn’t expect to find you.”
“You tracked me.”
“How? You have my ring.”
“You went to my hotel, didn’t you?”
He shrugged.
“I found the tracker inside the ring.”
“Which means I couldn’t have tracked you out here.”
“I don’t think that tracker even worked. I think you were using blood magic to find me.”
“Even if that were true, you don’t have that ring on you.”
“True. But you have other rings, and I suspect they work like homing beacons, drawing you to me by finding my blood signature after you stabbed me. You wanted me to think you couldn’t find me, but you drew my blood with your stupid needles, and now you can track me anywhere I go.”
“Lots of words for you, Brett.”
“I can use more than six words when I need to.”
“You’re not as slow as I thought.”
“Shoot straight with me, Gideon.”
The light changed and he started driving again. He changed lanes and signaled to turn left at the next light.
“Sure,” he said.
“Not with a gun.”
He laughed. “I ain’t gonna shoot you, man.”
“Why were you looking for me?”
“To make sure you’re at the pyramid tonight.”
“Why?”
“The truth?”
“If you don’t mind,” I said.
He made the turn, wheeled over to the curb, and turned to face me. “You didn’t return any of my Brett’s calls.”
“What do you care?”
“You’re not going to like this.”
“Hit me with it anyway.”
He gave me a shrug. “I’m supposed to make sure you’re the Brett who dies tonight.”
“Just not by shooting me.”
“That’s right. You have to die taking the test. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“I kinda like you, Brett.”
“That’s a new one.”
“You’ve got spunk. The other Brett talks a good game, but he’s a coward. Kinda rubs me wrong, but there you go. He knew things were escalating when you came back, so he put you in the line of fire because he was afraid he might get killed.”
“He was up front about
it.”
“Yeah, he wanted you to have a heads up.”
“Did he tell you to tell me all this?”
“No, but he didn’t tell me not to.”
“Give me the rest of it, Gideon.”
“He can’t pass the test.”
“So he wants me to pass the test for him?”
Gideon laughed. “You can’t pass the test either.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You can do some magic, and danger doesn’t scare you after the fact the way it does him. But he’s smarter and can do a lot more magic than you, and he’s got a way with people you ain’t got.”
“So?”
“People like him.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“He cares about them.”
“And I don’t?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “The other Brett shows that he cares. He pays attention. You’re more self-centered. It’s all about you for the most part. I mean, you have your moments, but mostly, you put yourself first.”
“So does he.”
“But he doesn’t seem to.”
“Cut to the chase.”
“I’m getting there, but I’m trying to break it down so you understand.”
“What if I give you more than six words?”
“Are you sure you can you follow?”
“I’ll concentrate real hard.”
“It’s simple, man. To pass the test is gonna take skillsets each of you have that the other doesn’t. But only one Brett will be able to advance.”
“So why can’t I help him then step aside?”
He shook his head. “I wish it could be that way, Brett. I really do.”
I nodded. “So one of us has to die.”
“Or both of you have to die.”
“One or both?”
“Can’t have two of you running around.”
“So I’ve been told. Why not?”
“Because you keep thinking one of you is the real Brett Masters, which means the other has to be a fake. The truth is that neither one of you is fake.”
My confused look made him laugh.
“Can’t give this to you in six words, m’man. You’re both part of the one real Brett Masters. Your father divided you in two when you gave up on trying to learn magic.”
“No way.”
“Yes way. I’ve been looking after my Brett for damn near fifteen years. Big difference is that he knew you existed, but you didn’t know about him.”
“You’re messing with my head.”
“I don’t want both of you to die, so I’m asking you for a favor.”
“You want me to volunteer to die?”
“Help him pass the test. Danger scares the shit out of him, but it doesn’t bother you.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because you don’t give a shit.”
“Sure I do.”
“Not really. You’re too lazy to care about life and death situations the way he does.”
“You think danger doesn’t scare me?”
“That’s not what I said. After it’s over, you don’t fret about it. When the other Brett faces something dangerous, he freaks out about it after the fact. You figure it’s over, so why worry.”
“Well, yeah. Waste of time to worry after you’ve lived through something.”
“Exactly. Your laziness helps you there. You’d rather take a nap than worry.”
“True enough.”
“Unfortunately, you’re also too lazy to take action unless you’re forced into it.”
“And that means I have to die?”
“Don’t think of it like that.”
“There’s another way to think about it?”
“Just get him through the dangerous part, and once the final section comes along where the magic matters, let him take your magic into him. Your magic is actually stronger, but you can’t control it. He knows how to use it because he’s spent his life learning.”
“Why can’t he give his knowledge to me?”
“Because knowledge requires years of study so it doesn’t transfer. But basic magic does. He’s worked out a spell to draw the magic from your blood. It will come through the Tarot tattoo where the blood price for magic has been paid, and has the added benefit of ancestor blood to power it. He can draw it out so it will flow into him, but you have to give the last of it freely or it won’t work.”
“So you want me to sacrifice myself.”
“He can do good things in the world, Brett. He’s got the talent. You cut corners. He does the work.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you both die.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
As I showered the sea brine from my skin, I stood in the stall thinking, this may be my last shower. As I toweled myself dry, I realized it could be the last time I ever did so. My last use of a toothbrush and toothpaste. My last shave. My last dash of cologne. My last chance to stare at myself in the mirror to wonder what the hell I was doing.
As I got dressed, perhaps for the last time, I realized that I might never get laid again.
Gideon sat on the bed, waiting.
I walked over to him as I shook out the shirt I planned to possibly die in. “What time is it?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Can we delay things a bit? I want to go pick up a hottie in the bar, bring her back here, and have one last roll in the hay before whatever happens.”
He shook his head. “No time for that.”
“There should always be time for that.”
He shrugged.
I shook my head. “Not giving me much incentive for playing ball here.”
“If you want to play with your balls, maybe rub one out, I can step outside for a few minutes. You can afford the adult movie channel.”
“And at my funeral they’ll say the last movie I watched was Cock Knockers 4.”
“You won’t have a funeral, Brett. No one will know you died.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Just being honest.”
I pulled my shirt on, but before I did, I stared at my upper arm, which was blank. The other Brett had a fiery pentagram tattoo that read, Genuine.
“My dad labeled the Brett he liked best,” I said.
“Sorry?” Gideon said, not following me.
“The tattoo,” I said. “He labeled the other me as the real McCoy. Not that Star Trek has anything to do with it.”
“That’s not where the term real McCoy comes from.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Next you’re going to tell me that Mr. Spock didn’t know shit about caring for babies.”
He stared at me, not sure whether or not I was kidding. I didn’t clear it up for him because fuck him.
“How did Solomon King manage to tattoo the Tarot deck into my doppelgänger’s arm?”
“What?”
“I kept the Tarot cards, so how did Solomon reproduce them? Does the other Brett’s tattoo even work? You took him to the tattoo parlor, right?”
“No. The tattoo magically appeared on him some months back. Your father set it up so that magic you gained would also go to my Brett. He wasn’t allowed to cut his hair, which bothered him. He had to look exactly like you. It seems that you two are bound by your father’s magic.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Since when did magic make any sense?” Gideon asked.
“Good point,” I said. But something about that bothered me. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“We should get going.”
“I have a few stops to make on the way,” I said.
“What for?”
“Final goodbyes,” I said. “Just in case.”
He shook his head. “No time for that.”
“Even for the ones that are on the way? Michael, Sabrina, Lakesha, Demetrius?”
“Sabrina and Michael will be at the testing ground.”
&
nbsp; “Not Lakesha?”
“She declined. Said she doesn’t like being too close to wizards from the Council.”
“Tell me about the test.”
“I don’t know anything about it. I just know my Brett has prepared for it since I first met him.”
“Who administers the test?”
“You’ll see.”
“Great. You’re so helpful.”
“Time to go, Brett.”
We stopped at a comic book store to get some comics to take to Demetrius. I don’t think I got the right comics, but Demetrius was cool about it. If the kid’s ghost picked up on any finality there, he didn’t show it.
Our next stop was Lakesha’s shop, but we missed her, as the store was already closed.
“Pull around back through that alley,” I said, pointing.
“Why?”
“She parks back there.”
“Looks like she’s gone, Brett.”
“Just go to the back.”
He turned down the alley, and sure enough, Lakesha’s hearse was parked in the small lot behind the store.
“Park,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
I got out of the car before he stopped.
Lakesha opened the back door to the shop when I knocked.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She studied me. “And which one are you?”
“I’m the asshole,” I said.
She grabbed my shirt sleeve and rolled it up to reveal no tattoo calling me genuine.
“Come on in,” she said.
I followed her through a narrow room into the more familiar backroom where she kept a table, chairs, and a bunch of tapestries and such. Isis sat on the table licking a paw. The cat looked up at me, hissed, and hopped down.
“Right back at you,” I said.
Isis ignored me.
“Have a seat,” Lakesha said.
I sat.
She sat across from me and fingered her hooped earrings.
“Gideon tells me I’m not going to survive the test,” I said.
“You sure you don’t want to go home and take a nap?”
“I’d love to,” I said, “but I don’t really have a home these days. I’m not sure I ever did.”
She nodded and pursed her lips. She looked away without saying anything, though I suspected she wanted to tell me something.
“Well,” I said, “I just wanted to thank you for trying to teach me shit.”
“How eloquent,” she said.
I ran a finger over her silk tablecloth. We sat there silent for a time, then at the same instant, we both started to speak.