“Huh.”
The Coach had a point. Jude did have an uncanny ability to avoid getting hit. Like so many things, before David knew about magic, he hadn’t thought twice about it. He didn’t question the fact that Jude usually remained unscathed during the game. Had Jude done some kind of football magic? Or did Amanda knock over the poor boys from other teams from her spot on the bleachers?
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” the coach asked.
“Yeah, I’ll talk to him.”
“Listen, I didn’t take his name off the roster. I marked him as injured for now. I don’t want him to make a big life decision on a whim. The scouts don’t need to know about this.”
“Thank you.”
That night, when David headed toward his office-slash-bedroom, he felt a pull toward the kids’ bedrooms. He didn’t know how else to explain it, as if some extra gravity had accumulated there. A cool blue light emanated from under Emmy’s door. If he believed in such things, he might have guessed alien abduction.
He opened the door and saw the coolest thing he had ever seen. Samantha lay on the floor making white droplets of light drip upward from her palm like slow upside-down rain. Emmy sat on the bed, watching. The light droplets faded and popped when he opened the door. Darkness bathed the room again. David turned on the light.
Samantha sat up as if prepared to run. “I’m so sorry,” she spluttered. “It wasn’t serious magic. Just a little light.”
Emmy stood, ready to come to her defense.
“It was, uh… cool,” David said. “You’re a witch? I suppose I should have guessed.”
She nodded. Emmy and Samantha stared at him, perhaps waiting for a punishment. However, David was unprepared to distribute punishments for things like making light rain upside-down.
“Good night,” he said and shut their door again.
David had last seen Samantha’s parents, Penelope and Aaron Carthage, in August. He had never met any two people who could make him feel so uncomfortable so fast. He didn’t go over to their house unless he absolutely had to.
He had dropped off Emmy for a sleepover, and when the girls ran upstairs, Penelope ushered David inside. She had the body and tan of a beach volleyball player, large, but very real, breasts, and a toothpaste model’s smile. None of this really tempted David. He couldn’t call himself a one-woman man, but he certainly could call himself a two-woman man. He didn’t sleep with anything with breasts for the hell of it. But any woman that beautiful and that friendly had some inherent risks.
She welcomed him to her home as she would welcome Santa Claus bringing presents. Four thick candles burned on the coffee table. From what he could tell, each candle had a different scent, and the combination made his head spin. She picked up the first one.
“What do you think?” She put the candle right under his nose, practically singeing his nose hairs.
“It’s uh… nice.”
“Does it remind you of anything?”
“Um… vanilla?”
“No, vanilla is wrong,” she said dismissively. “Breathe deeply. Relax. What does it remind you of?”
An image of the green moss that grew behind his childhood house popped into his head. But he didn’t say it out loud because it sounded crazy.
“I really don’t know.”
She put the candle down and held up the next one.
“Try this one. What does it smell like?”
This one made his heart race and his stomach ball up into a fist. He pushed it away.
“I don’t know,” he said with a nervous chuckle.
“You reacted to that one. What did it smell like?”
“Fear,” he said.
She nodded as if he had said something normal such as ‘cinnamon’ or ‘pine trees’.
“Very interesting,” she said. “Anything else? Any images?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. Listen, I have got to get going…”
“No, wait. Please stay. Have a drink.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Come on, David. Stay,” Aaron Carthage said, who had appeared through the patio door. He had dirt all over his jeans and twigs in his hair. He had a deep tan on his bare chest—and a few red patches from sunburn. His brownish red hair had become streaked with blond from too much sun.
“What have you been doing outside?” David asked. “It’s 110 degrees.”
“The heat doesn’t bother me. Good for the soul.”
Then Aaron proceeded to kiss Penelope as if he hadn’t seen her in a year. He tugged at the little knot on the back of her halter-top as if he planned to take it off right then and there. David backed toward the door.
Penelope giggled and pushed Aaron away. “Stop it. You’re making David uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s fine. I just have to go.”
“You have got to try Penelope’s Sangria,” Aaron said. “It’s amazing. She uses Texas peaches and Texas wine. It’s worth a taste; I promise you.”
“I made it without strawberries just for you,” she said with a pout.
Well, if she still wanted him to have a drink with her husband there, at least that must mean she didn’t intend anything inappropriate. Unless they were both coming on to him, an idea too distressing to consider.
“Okay,” he said, cautiously.
They looked way too pleased.
“Have a seat,” she said and pointed to their couch, a morbidly obese version of a regular couch. David sank into it so deeply, he knew he couldn’t get up quickly if he wanted to. Penelope went into the kitchen, and Aaron sat in the armchair across from him. Personal space. That’s better.
“Smells interesting in here, huh?” Aaron asked.
“Interesting is a good way to put it,” David said.
“Smell the green candle,” he suggested.
“I can smell it from here.”
“What does it remind you of?”
“Shush,” Penelope said. “I already asked him. He doesn’t know.” She put down a tray with three glasses of candy apple red wine with bits of fruit floating in it. She handed one to David and one to her husband. To her credit, the Sangria was amazing. It took only a couple sips for the drink to spread warmth into all of his extremities. He felt as if he had had a two-hour massage.
“What’s in this?” he asked, putting the glass down.
“Just wine, brandy, juice, and ginger ale,” Penelope said. “Do you like it?”
“Yes. It’s delicious.”
“Drink up,” she said.
David took another sip.
“Tell me about your childhood,” Penelope said.
“Uh… like what?”
“What were your parents like?”
“Normal.”
“Normal,” she repeated, as if she’d never heard the word.
“Yeah.”
She sank back into the couch, looking defeated.
Aaron showed David a blue and green marble in the palm of his hand. “Do you know what this is?” Aaron asked.
“A marble,” David said.
Aaron dropped it into David’s hand.
“Now what is it?” he asked.
Okay. That’s enough. World’s greatest Sangria or not.
“A marble,” David said.
Aaron glanced at Penelope and shook his head. They looked at David as if he acted crazy.
“I really don’t think he knows,” Penelope said.
“Destruction,” Aaron said. “Has to be.”
After the Carthages’ Sangria, David had gone home, took the dishes Amanda washed out of her hands, and pulled her by the arm to the bedroom without so much as a hello. After having animal sex with her, he slept for twelve hours. Yes, very good Sangria.
He’d seen Penelope Carthage one more time after that, about a week later. This time, she had come over to their house just long enough to collect Samantha and Emmy to drive them to the movies. The girls dragged their feet getting ready, and Amanda had gone out shopping.
So, he had no choice but to make conversation with Penelope. She sat in the living room and looked around the room as if the cream-colored walls made her want to cry.
“So, it’s been pretty hot, huh?” David said. “Is your lawn dead too?”
“No.”
“Wow. That’s impressive. You must have a high water bill.”
“Samantha really likes it here,” she said in baffled tone, as if she couldn’t imagine why anyone would.
“She’s a nice girl. We’re happy to have her around. She’s very helpful.”
“That’s good.”
They nodded at each other awkwardly for a moment.
“Is anything new with you?” she asked him.
“No. Same old stuff. Still working in construction, of course.”
“So nothing new? Nothing different? Since I last saw you?”
“Uh… no. I guess not.”
She nodded grimly. “I know it’s not my place. I just can’t help myself. You’re like fireworks with no match. It bothers me.”
“Yeah, they banned fireworks because of the drought,” David said.
“May I show you something?” she asked.
“Okay,” he said.
She scooted closer to him, and David leaned away.
“Just real quick,” she said. “Don’t worry.”
She clasped her hands on his forearms. He tried to pull away, but she squeezed forcefully. He could only describe the sensation as invasion. At the time, he didn’t think much of it. A woman he didn’t know well had grabbed his arms for no clear reason and dug her fingernails into his skin. Invasion. Boundary violation. Excessively strange. A sense of violation seemed appropriate. Later, he realized the invasion had not been an illusion. Tiny needles poked his brain. It hurt. It troubled him. He remembered feeling defensive. He wanted her off him at any cost and instinctively focused all his energy on counterattack.
And it worked. At the time, he didn’t have the words to define what he had done. Now, he did. He did magic. He would never attack a woman, not with his hands. But he didn’t know he could do it with magic, so he didn’t know how to stop himself.
She gasped and shrank back from him as if she expected him to hit her. Her hands trembled as she pulled her keys out of her purse.
“I have to go home,” she said.
And she did. Right there and then, without another word. David tried calling her, but she didn’t pick up. He told the girls some nonsense about her having to go into work and took them to the movies himself. He never saw Penelope Carthage again.
Reflecting on his memories, he realized how much he had missed. The mind heard only things that made sense to it.
He didn’t really want to know more of the story. He had heard enough terrible things, but that didn’t stop him from pounding on his former bedroom door.
Amanda opened the door looking like she might pound him right back. She wore her stretchy gray pants, and he could see her belly button. He tried not to get distracted staring at her middle.
“What?” she asked.
“What happened to the Carthages?”
She sighed. “Come in.”
He closed the door behind him. She sat on the bed, but he couldn’t rest enough to sit and paced around the foot of the bed.
“I had wondered why you were waiting so long to ask. I wasn’t sure if you believed the skiing accident thing, but you didn’t ask me.”
“I might have but was distracted by the truck in the living room. They’re wizards?”
“Yes.”
“Why is she here? What did they do to her?”
“The Carthages are nice people. Do you really think I would let us associate with dark practicing wizards? Never.”
“So, they’re good wizards. I thought you said wizards can’t be good.”
“I did not say that. It is true that it’s less dangerous for some wizards to practice than for others. Everyone’s magic has a different… color… flavor… you might say.”
“Like how they say auras are different colors?”
“I guess so. Since when did you know about auras?” Amanda asked.
“I know about things like that,” David said. Or Crystal knew about things like that.
“It’s not just about which spells you choose to use; it’s about the type of magic you use to do them. That can’t be changed. It’s like the color of your eyes. That’s why dark wizards can’t practice. Even if they want to be good, they can’t. It’s too dangerous. Dark magic is about destruction. Breaking things. Breaking people. Even my spell was destruction. I destroyed your memories. I didn’t create anything.”
“So you’re saying we’re dark wizards.”
She bit her lip. “It’s all on a spectrum. There are not just good and bad wizards; there are infinite colors of magic, and some are darker than others. You can’t classify everyone’s magic as good or bad.”
“I already know the answer, so you don’t need to tiptoe around it for me.” He couldn’t say why, but he already knew the color of their magic.
“Fine. We’re dark wizards. Both of us. And our kids. But that doesn’t make us bad. As long as we don’t practice.”
“If the Carthages are so good, then why do they have their daughter living with dark wizards?”
“They aren’t dark wizards, but I don’t know if I’d classify them as ‘good’. They’re… well… they’re practicing wizards. That should tell you enough.”
“It doesn’t. Although it does explain a lot. They definitely have their own way of doing things. Like when Penelope took her top off at the swimming pool. Was that a wizard thing?”
“I’m glad that’s the first quirk you noticed. Is that moment burned into your memory too?”
Her eyes looked angry, but she smiled. He didn’t know if he had gotten himself in trouble or not.
“I’m a man. If you want me to forget it when one of our kid’s friend’s mothers unexpectedly shows me her breasts, you are going to have to remove it on your own. And I’m not offering.”
“I’m just messing with you. I’m grateful all you’ve done is see her breasts… knowing what I know about you now.”
David ignored the jab.
“She wanted to get our attention… our magical attention,” Amanda continued. “In a lot of ways, they’re really tolerant of us being wizards who don’t practice. Practicing wizards and non-practicing wizards generally hate each other passionately. But the Carthages know it’s different for dark wizards and let it go for the most part, especially because Samantha and Emmy are so close. But they just can’t seem to help themselves. They’re curious about us. They want us to practice, if just to see what we can do. They’re like children: all about curiosity and immediate gratification. I think Samantha is the only reason they made any attempt to behave.”
“Come on. Give me the worst. Where are they? Do you even know?”
“Of course I know. Sort of. I did know.”
“Where?”
“Rehab,” Amanda said.
“Drugs? Alcohol?”
“Magic.”
“They’re in magical rehab?”
“No, of course not. It’s a regular rehabilitation facility for drugs and alcohol. They didn’t know what else to do. They thought the 12-steps might help them. The problem is, rehab works in part because you are separated from your drug. And when it’s a spell, you can’t separate. I don’t know much about the spell they got addicted to, but it’s some kind of pleasure spell. They did it so much they couldn’t stop doing it. Just like a drug. They lost everything. Their jobs. Their home.”
“They had been using all their energy trying to keep the spell going and eventually didn’t have the mental or physical energy left to do anything but stay home and cast the spell. I noticed Samantha was here a lot, but I didn’t think much of it. She worships Emmy. Then it’s like she ate dinner here every day. And I saw her taking food out of our pantry. Pop tarts and stuff. There wasn’t any food in her house. She was doi
ng her homework here because they didn’t have electricity anymore. Or Internet.”
“So, Samantha knows her parents aren’t really in Switzerland?”
“Of course.”
“How long has this been going on? The addiction?”
“Samantha told me her mom started acting funny right before school started. And then her dad did, too, not long after that.”
“August?”
“I guess.”
“Do you think… something could have happened to Penelope then… something that messed her up?”
“I don’t know, maybe. I suppose it’s like pain pills. She might have started doing the spell to feel better about something that had upset her and got addicted. I don’t know her well.”
David wondered if she could see his heart hammering through his shirt.
“Eventually, I did something,” she continued. “Although probably not soon enough. I gave them the money for the rehab. You didn’t notice it was gone. I should have told you, but I didn’t know what to say.”
“How long is the rehab?”
“It doesn’t matter. I called the place yesterday. They checked themselves out.”
“And…”
“And I have no idea.”
“So they took our money for rehab, didn’t even stay, and abandoned Samantha on our doorstep.”
“They’re in a bad place. They wanted to get better. Maybe they can’t.”
“You don’t think they’re… dead?”
“I really have no idea.”
“Does Samantha know they might not come back?”
“No. The last thing they told me was that they planned to be back before Thanksgiving. And that’s the last thing I told her. It could still be true. They’re so flighty. They could appear on our doorstep any minute, or never, or anything in between.”
“What sort of stuff did they do? The Carthages? What do good wizards do when they practice?”
“Like I said, they aren’t exactly ‘good’, just not dark wizards. But I guess you could say if dark magic equals pain and good magic equals pleasure, then the Carthages are really good wizards. They are hedonists. They like sexy magic.”
Destruction: The December People, Book One Page 10