Into the Fire

by Patrick Hester

  “Sam, as ridiculous as it may sound, I believe you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Because you’re right; you couldn’t make this up. You are many things, my dear, but you are not the kind of person who would make up wild stories about magic. Hell, I couldn’t even convince you to play D&D with me, remember?”

  I blinked. “So, just like that? You believe me? Believe all of it?”

  “There’s something in your eyes. If you say it’s true, then it’s true. Actually, it sort of makes sense.”

  My head spun. “How the hell does any of this make sense?” This, all of this? In the dictionary under “opposite of making sense” lived this story, next to the words marriage and politics.

  She picked her bag up off the floor and put it on the table before pulling out the smallest computer I think I have ever seen and flipping the lid open. “It fits with what I found about a man named Rosario.”

  * * *

  In all the excitement, I’d spaced on the whole “asking Jenni to look for Rosario” thing. If things went south for Pop, finding Rosario might be the last words he ever said to me. It had to be important.

  “There were a lot of Rosarios to choose from,” Jenni said. “So I narrowed my results to Denver, then to where we grew up, thinking it would be the most likely area your dad would’ve come into contact with someone named Rosario. Got a hit.” She hit a few keys on her computer. “Father Giosia Rosario, eighty-four years old, living in a church-owned house in the middle of nowhere, way up I-25. He was a priest at our parish but retired when we were just kids. Before I moved here, actually. I’d be surprised if you even remembered him.”

  Jenni typed on a laptop somewhere between the size of a paperback and a hardcover book and as thin as a smartphone.

  “Does that thing have the Wi-Fi?” I asked.

  With an expression somewhere between horrified and tortured, Jenni said, “This is a netbook. Yes, it has ‘the Wi-Fi,’ and with it, I can remotely access my desktop computer in the office over a secure private connection.”

  “Sounds very Star Trek,” I said.

  “Yes, Sam,” she said, deadpan. “It’s all very Star Trek.”

  “Eighty-four years old?” I said, changing the subject back. “Wow. Good run.” Very good run. “I don’t remember him. The only priest I remember is Father Thomas. He’s what, in his fifties now?”

  “Yeah,” she said, eyes on the tiny screen before her. “Here’s the weird bit, the reason he sort of fits in with everything you’ve just told me.”

  I couldn’t stand staring at the back of the laptop, so I scooched my chair around to get a view of the screen. She had a lot of files open, each tiny and difficult for me to read.

  Moving her mouse over one, it suddenly jumped up and went from tiny, unreadable text to full-screen document.

  “His retirement,” she said. “Not by choice. The Church made him retire due to a charge of child endangerment. Nothing ever came of that—like, it all just disappeared once he walked away. Except for this bit,” she said, bringing up another document with a short list of names on it. “Someone named him as an Exorcist.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s—wow.”

  “Yeah, right? So, sort of fits with the magic stuff?”

  “Maybe,” I said. My brain tried to catch up. Pop wanted me to talk to a priest who’d been what, outed as an exorcist? Could that even be a real thing? “I thought Exorcists were, I don’t know, not real?”

  “I suppose it depends on who you ask,” Jenni said. “A lot of people believe. And the Church has been training more people as exorcists in recent years than ever before.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I admitted.

  “What’s his connection?” Jenni asked.

  “Pop wanted me to talk to him,” I answered. “I’m not sure why.”

  Could my dad have, I don’t know, taken me to this man when the magic started for me? Is he the one who put this thing in my head? Ideas swirled around. Had my dad known what I could become?

  “He lives where?” I asked.

  “I-25 between Denver and Fort Collins. Maybe an hour north. I’ll write down the address for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Jenni rose, coffee cups in hand, and walked off to get us refills.

  In an hour, I could have answers. All I had to do? Jump in the car and go. I could even do it while Jenni got the coffee.

  But I’d promised to stay with Pop. The urge to go grew, and I had to shake it off. Again, a war raged on inside my head. I wanted to go, learn what I could learn, put an end to the mysteries. I also felt that soul-crushing guilt weighing me down with familiar responsibility.

  “What’s wrong?” Jenni asked, returning with a couple of steaming cups of coffee. “You look like you swallowed a bug.”

  I opened my mouth. How do I explain this one? Say the wrong thing, and she’ll be pushing me to go see one of the doctors here or something.

  “You can tell me anything,” she said, reaching across the table to take my hand in hers. “What can be crazier than what you’ve already said?”

  Her smile warmed the sudden chill I hadn’t even noticed.

  “I think,” I said, and stopped. I freed my hand from hers and took a sip of coffee. “I feel off. Different. Difficult to explain it, but I’m wondering if maybe the magic is doing something to me. Something, I don’t know, bad. Changing me, somehow.”

  Jenni sat up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s hard to put into words,” I admitted. “I’m off.”

  “Off?” she asked.

  “I never should’ve left my dad yesterday when he had a fit,” I said. “Never should’ve ignored everything going on with Jorge. Or let things get so strained with my family. I don’t know.” I touched my temple. “Something in here feels different.”

  As if on cue, pain spiked in my head, and I winced.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Headache,” I said. “Never seems to go away.”

  “How long has the headache been bothering you?”

  “A few days,” I said. “Maybe a week.” The edges of my memory were ragged and fuzzy.

  “Tell me about the magic,” she said.

  “What?” I asked. The pain grew to a constant throbbing.

  “Your nose,” she said, coming out of her seat.

  Jenni gently tilted my head back and shoved paper napkins against my nose.

  “Another bloody nose,” she said.

  “Another?” I asked.

  “You had one this morning,” she said. Eyes narrowed, she said, “Do you remember?”

  “No,” I said.

  “I want you to try something,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “Think about Simon, or your dad,” she said. “Focus on them.”

  Focus. The word echoed through my brain in a gravelly voice. I needed to focus, stop trying to juggle so many things at once. The more I thought about it, the more my head seemed to clear. The pain subsided.

  “That,” I said, “worked. I feel better.”

  She smiled down at me. “Keep pressure on your nose. Can I borrow your phone for a second?”

  “Sure,” I said digging it out.

  Jenni grabbed the phone and stalked out of the cafeteria.

  I kept the pressure on my nose. The blood trickled and stopped.

  Jenni returned and took her seat opposite me. She put the phone down between us and picked up her coffee.

  “Who did you call?” I asked.

  The scent of cigarette smoke and sulfur wafted in.

  “Me,” said a familiar voice.

  Jack Mayfair walked up to the table.

  * * *

  “You told her everything?” Mayfair asked.

  He’d pulled a chair up and sat between Jenni and me.

  Jenni had disappeared when he’d shown up; returning now with an extra cup of coffee, she set down in front of him. A large bottle of wa
ter went down in front of me.

  “What’s this for?” I asked.

  “Drink,” she said. “I think you need something other than coffee. Drink.”

  “Yes, Mom,” I said, taking a sip. Actually, it tasted pretty good, so I swallowed a couple of gulps.

  “How did you get here so fast?” Jenni asked Mayfair.

  Rather than answer, he asked me, “Why did you tell her everything?”

  “Because,” Jenni said before I could, “she needed to tell someone. It was eating her up inside. And I’m her best friend. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

  “Oh,” Mayfair said, “I don’t know, maybe because it’s supposed to be a secret? Because telling you puts you in danger? Do I really need to go through the entire list?” Mayfair tasted the coffee and nodded to her. “Thanks.”

  “Welcome,” she said. “And if she hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known to call you, and she’d be off having a seizure or something right now.”

  “I don’t have seizures,” I said.

  Neither paid any attention to me. It was like I was back in Captain King’s office again.

  “And I appreciate that part,” Mayfair said. “I just hope you appreciate the seriousness of the situation. If you know, you’re a target. People will use you against her.”

  “Good thing I put on my big girl pants today, then,” Jenni said.

  Mayfair grumbled something about women I couldn’t quite catch.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “Why are you here? Why did you call him?”

  Mayfair turned to the mostly empty cafeteria, raised his hand, and did something. All I could make out was a blurry wall materializing around us. How he did it remained hidden to me. But the air seemed to shimmer in a half circle around us.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What did you do?”

  “What?” Jenni said, perking up. “Did he just do something magical? Oh, no fair! I want to see!” She positively hopped in her chair, so I threw a scowl in her direction. She settled down. Barely.

  Mayfair took another swig from his coffee cup. “Think of it like a privacy filter. Anyone on the other side of it can’t hear a thing we’re saying and will see three people quietly enjoying a meal together.”

  “I don’t see it,” Jenni pouted, flashing her eyelashes in his direction.

  Many a man (and woman) would melt at such a look from Jennifer Pena, but not Jack Mayfair. He gave a scowl that somehow encompassed both her and me. I had the distinct impression I’d be getting a talking-to very soon.

  “How did you do it?” I asked. Lord help me, I really wanted to know.

  “I’ll show you sometime,” he said, glancing at Jenni out of the corner of his eye. “But not now.” Turning to her, he said, “Now, tell me again about your theory?”

  “Can I see a little magic first?” Jenni asked. “Just to confirm it’s all true?”

  “No,” he said. “Talk.”

  “Come on,” I said. “Show the girl a little magic.”

  I nearly laughed. Nearly.

  Mayfair’s scowl deepened. “Are you drunk?”

  “No,” I said.

  “See what I mean?” Jenni said.

  “Pass the salt and pepper?” Mayfair asked.

  Jenni grabbed the little plastic shakers and slid them over.

  “This isn’t a game,” he said, dumping the salt and pepper into two piles on the table. Suddenly, they jumped up, spun, and swirled until the brain image formed in the air above the table. “But since you think it has something to do with this, I guess a little magic won’t hurt anything.”

  Jenni gasped.

  The brain turned slowly in the air. Salt gave it form and substance while the pepper created the net surrounding it. Mayfair touched my hand and closed his eyes for a moment. The net shifted, becoming shabbier than ever before. More damaged areas formed, flickering like a bad neon sign. Bits hung slack and listless, others had faded to pale shadows of what they’d been, and a few seemed to be digging into the flesh of the brain as if holding on for dear life.

  Mayfair opened his eyes, expression grim.

  “It’s degrading faster than I predicted,” he said. “I thought we had weeks, maybe months. At this rate, we have days at best. Maybe hours.”

  “What is it?” Jenni asked, eyes wide.

  “A complicated cluster of magical weaves,” he answered. “Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. And it’s breaking down.”

  Jenni sat with her eyes wide as saucers. “I wanted to believe, I really did, but I have to admit, until this moment, I thought it could still be some kind of hoax.”

  “It’s real,” Mayfair said. “And dangerous.”

  “I get it,” Jenni said with a small nod.

  “Then tell me again,” he said.

  “Tell him what?” I asked.

  “Little things,” she said, eyes fixed on the brain. “Today, Sam went off to take a shower, was gone maybe a minute when she started screaming. I found her on the floor having some kind of seizure, nose gushing blood. Now she doesn’t remember any of it.”

  “Because it didn’t happen,” I said.

  They studied me.

  “It didn’t happen,” I repeated. “I think I’d remember.”

  “I let it go,” Jenni said. “Maybe it really was a fluke thing. Maybe stress, what with everything going on. Then she starts telling me about you and the magic stuff, and she’s instantly in pain. Her nose starts bleeding. And she can’t remember things. And when I tell her to think about non-magic stuff, she suddenly starts feeling better. Like someone flipped a switch. Something is wrong.” She pointed to the salt-and-pepper brain in the air between us. “I think it’s this. Some sort of side effect.”

  Mayfair rubbed his chin. “I suppose anything is possible.”

  “Hello?” I asked. “None of that happened.”

  Pretty sure I’d remember if magic somehow—the pressure crested again. The room grew fuzzy. I could taste copper in my mouth and struggled to swallow it away.

  “What’s happening?” Jenni asked. “Are you doing that?”

  “No,” said Mayfair.

  Through eyes nearly squeezed shut, the salt-and-pepper brain roiled before me. The web of magic spiked up and down and rippled across the surface of the brain. My brain.

  “It’s happening right now,” Jenni said.

  Mayfair’s hand on mine tightened. He cupped my chin and turned me to face him. “Sam? Stay with me,” he said. He snapped nicotine-stained fingers in my face, causing me to blink. “Hey. Jenni? Hand me napkins.” He let go of my hand to take the napkins and press them against my nose. “Sam? Focus on me, okay? On my voice.”

  The word ping-ponged in my head. Focus. The voice didn’t belong to Mayfair. I didn’t know who it belonged to, but the word grew in strength. I needed to push out all the distractions and concentrate on the important things.

  “Where are we, Sam?” Mayfair asked.

  “Hospital,” I mumbled.

  “More specific,” he commanded.

  “Somewhere cold,” I said, rubbing my arms.

  Thinking grew difficult. My head went from burning hot to freezing cold in a blink. The frost lay thick, and I couldn’t break through it.

  Snap-snap, Mayfair’s fingers in my face. He reeked of cigarettes.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “Annoying.”

  “Then tell me where we are, and I’ll stop,” he said.

  Through the fuzzy frost, I said, “Cafeteria.” Something cracked, I could hear it like thunder in my ears. Mom and Pop, Simon, Maria and Jorge, even Chase all flooded back into my head. The cold vanished, and I felt normal again.

  “What were we talking about?” I asked.

  Mayfair and Jenni exchanged a look that spoke volumes in a language I didn’t know.

  I rubbed my temples. “I think my headache is gone.”

  A pile of salt and pepper cut a line down the table.

  “Um,” I said. “Someone want to fill me in h
ere?”

  * * *

  For a few minutes, Mayfair and Jenni held a whispering argument just out of earshot. They’d insisted on stepping away for this, citing weird things happening. Since that seemed to be the norm for me lately, I didn’t take too much insult from the whole thing.

  I guess my best friend and new boss getting along could be a good thing. If they actually, you know, got along.

  Whatever they argued about didn’t last long, and they returned to the table with smiles, his grim, hers sickly sweet.

  “For the record,” Jenni said, “I think this is a bad idea.”

  “Noted,” Mayfair said.

  They retook their seats.

  “Sam,” he said, “I want you to listen but not focus too much on what I’m saying.”

  “How the hell do I do that?” I asked.

  “Hum a tune in your head,” Jenni offered. “‘Dancing Queen,’ maybe?”

  “You want me to hum ‘Dancing Queen’ in my head while he talks to me?” I asked.

  “‘You can dance, you can jive’?” Jenni asked.

  “Please,” Mayfair said. “Trust us?”

  “Fine,” I said. The first beats of the song begin... It has always helped me relax.

  “The bundle of magic in your head is doing something to you,” Mayfair said. “A side effect.”

  “What?” I asked, wincing.

  “Remember the song,” Jenni warned.

  “Oh, right,” I said. I have to start the song over, having lost where I left off.

  “It’s harming you,” Mayfair continued.

  Jenni took my hand in hers, smiling. She said something, but the room flickered and I stood outside, a tall woman with long blonde hair holding my hand in hers.

  “This is how he twists my teachings.”

  Everything flickered again. Jenni cocked her head.

  “Do you understand?” she asked.

  “Not even a little,” I admitted.

  “We have to be careful here, Sam,” Mayfair said. “Telling you or talking too much about it might trigger another event, and we don’t know how much damage they’re doing or how many more you can take before something serious happens.”

  I remember the first time I heard ‘Dancing Queen’. An old music show rerun. Something about it struck a chord. Just thinking about it now fills my head, clears it.