The Canvas Thief

by P. Kirby

  “Wimp,” he said to himself after he hung up the phone. Already he’d decided that he’d put off the burglary until later that afternoon. And he felt a sense of relief at the postponement.

  He occupied the rest of the morning by rereading a fantasy novel that had no romantic subplot and practicing a spell called Fist of Air, the latter spent knocking over, when the spell worked, an old lamp. He’d probably still have his magical ability in EverVerse and it wouldn’t hurt to have an offensive spell on hand.

  At eleven-thirty he slumped into the bathroom, took a shower, shaved and shrugged on his comfortable black jeans and a black, long-sleeved crew shirt. Because he liked the contrast, he put on white running shoes. He also put on his light green jacket, but as soon as he stepped out of the house, realized it wasn’t necessary. Once again, the New Mexico winter weather felt like spring. After tossing the jacket on the passenger seat, he started the car and headed for his meeting with Roland.

  Margot’s, the diner where he was to meet Roland, was disconcertingly close to Maya’s house and Benjamin took a long route that kept him as far as possible from her neighborhood. The strategy threw him into the midst of an obstacle course of orange road construction cones. He sat in stalled traffic, watching a group of construction workers who seemed to be doing little more than contemplating a sinkhole in the middle of the street. The delay was going to make him late, but it wasn’t like he was in a hurry to meet with Roland. Although he’d agreed, he’d only done so in the event Maya needed his help in some way. Given Roland’s tone, however, it was more likely that Roland was playing big brother and running him out of Maya’s life for good.

  Ambushed, he thought as he entered the café and saw not just Roland but his partner Eric.

  “Benjamin,” Eric said with a curt nod of his bald head. “Have a seat.” Roland said nothing, his dark, hawk-like profile looking especially fierce.

  Benjamin hesitated, irritated by Eric’s tone. He felt like a kid summoned to the principal’s office, not that he had any experience with that sort of thing. He couldn’t continue standing by the table, so he relented and sat. “I feel about as welcome as a fart in an elevator.”

  “What did you do to Maya?” Roland said.

  Eric lifted a hand. “Roland—”

  “I’m sorry, Eric. But he’s right. This isn’t friendly. It’s not supposed to be. Maya’s a mess and it’s his fault.” Roland shook a finger at Benjamin. “We trusted you with our Maya. And look what you did to her.”

  “What I did to her? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Repressed anger started to seep from his broken heart. All right. Yes. He admitted it to himself. She broke my heart. Trying to keep his voice down, he said, “The only reason I’m here is that you said Maya needed help. If all you’re going to do is accuse me of…I don’t know what, then I’m leaving.” He pushed his chair back.

  Roland spluttered and started to speak, but Eric spoke first. “Benjamin, wait. Please.”

  “This is a waste of time,” Roland said, eyes boring through Benjamin.

  Eric gave Roland a long look. “This was your idea.” With a tiny shake of his head, he turned and said to Benjamin, “Maya’s behaving strangely. She’s not herself.”

  A suggestion of concern tightened Benjamin’s voice. “What does that mean?”

  “She’s not taking our calls and the last time Roland saw her, last night, she seemed to be having some kind of mental breakdown.”

  “So? She’s an artist. Artists are unstable, aren’t they?” Benjamin said with a harshness that he instantly regretted.

  “No! Not Maya,” Roland said, leaning toward Benjamin, anger burning in his deep brown eyes. “Maya’s usually the toughest person I know. She’s a rock.” He darted a look to the side and straightened.

  The cause, the waitress moved to their table. Because they were taking up a table and it seemed the decent thing to do, Benjamin ordered a soda. Eric and Roland already each had coffees.

  “Look,” he said once the waitress left, “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

  “What did you do to her?”

  “What Roland is trying to say,” Eric began, his words careful but his expression no less thunderous. Benjamin recognized the control of a business owner who was used to dealing with difficult situations. “We’re trying to figure out how to help her. We’ve never seen her like this and if we understood what hurt her so much, maybe we could help her deal with it.”

  “You broke her heart, didn’t you? Jerk,” Roland said.

  Benjamin felt his eyes widen and mouth fall open. “I broke her heart? She blew me off.”

  Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Blew you off?”

  “Yeah. She said she didn’t want to see me again. Ever. Her words, verbatim.”

  “Maya’s never that cold. You must have done something.” Roland shook his head in stubborn denial. “That night, after we left you two together, what happened?”

  Benjamin arched an eyebrow at the man. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “My best friend is moping around her house, not eating, apparently not sleeping, and muttering crap about failing you.” Roland poked a well-manicured finger at Benjamin. “Damn straight it’s my business.”

  “You didn’t sleep together?” Eric said, distracting Benjamin from his urge to grab Roland’s finger and snap it backward.

  “No. I kissed her, that’s it.” Seeing Roland’s jaw drop, Benjamin added, “And she wasn’t an unwilling party.”

  He turned Roland’s description of Maya’s behavior over in his mind as the waitress arrived with his drink and freshened Roland’s and Eric’s coffee. A tense silence settled in between the men before Benjamin finally spoke again. “She was fine the next day at lunch.”

  “Was she?” Though his expression remained wary, some of the rancor had faded from Eric’s face.

  Scrubbing his hand through his hair, Benjamin ran through the lunch in his head. “I don’t know her that well, but she seemed happy, adjusted, you know, her usual self?”

  Roland, unlike his partner, still seemed ready to stake Benjamin out on a hill of fire ants. “Yeah, and now she hasn’t been to work in two days. She didn’t even remember to call in sick. I had to cover for her. She’s going to lose her job if this keeps up.”

  “Wait.” Benjamin held up a hand. “A second ago, you said she said that she had failed me.”

  “Yeah. That was one of the longest sentences she spoke when I was there.”

  “I don’t know what she could have meant by that.” Benjamin took a sip of the soda, not tasting it. Was this over the unlock spell? There had been nothing about her attitude at lunch to suggest that she was that disappointed.

  “‘I’ve failed him, I’ve failed him.’ Maya kept muttering that over and over,” Roland said, his eyes brimming with heartbreak at the memory.

  “Him?” Benjamin set down the glass. “She didn’t say ‘Benjamin,’ she said ‘him’?”

  “You’re suggesting she might mean someone else?” said Eric.

  Assuming the speculation in Eric’s eyes meant he might be a more rational ally than Roland, Benjamin nodded grimly. “Adam.”

  “The ATF agent who looks just like the fictional Adam Sayres?” Eric’s voice indicated flourishing disbelief.

  “Well, hon,” Roland said, with a weak smile at his partner, and a finger pointed at Benjamin, “it’s a possibility. I’ve never met Adam, but Ben here is a dead ringer for the redheaded pretty boy in her comics.”

  Eric rubbed his bald head. “You’ll understand if I don’t just jump on the magic bandwagon.”

  “Rational guy,” Roland said with a fond smile at Eric. “Maya had a date with Adam, right?” he asked Benjamin.

  “She did?” After a brief skirmish, jealousy won out over alarm on his face.

  “I think they went out the night before last,” Roland said.

  “So your partner in comic book crime is to blame for Maya’s situation?” Eri
c turned a grim and condescending smile on Benjamin. “You’re insane, you know?”

  “I understand why you’d think that,” Benjamin said. “But it gets worse.”

  “How could it get worse?” Roland said. He dumped two heaping spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee and stirred with ferocious vigor. A brown tide surged over the cup’s white rim and down to the table, but he didn’t notice. Eric, however, looked at his partner in astonishment.

  While Eric tore a handful of napkins from the dispenser in the middle of the table, Benjamin explained. “I think Adam used Mesmer power on her, although I don’t know why or how.”

  “Mesmer?” Roland said, his attention split between Benjamin and the spilled coffee. He took the napkins from Eric and started to mop up the mess.

  “Mesmer power. It’s what some magical nonhumans use to hide themselves from humans, especially if their glamour fails.”

  “Oh, boy,” Eric said, “suspension of disbelief, overloaded.”

  “Hush, Scully.” Roland patted Eric’s arm. A fraction of the anger faded from his eyes, replaced with bright-eyed curiosity. “How does it work?”

  “Mesmer can alter a person’s memories. It can also force someone to do something they don’t want to. Usually it has to be cast just like any other spell. But in Adam’s case, it’s a natural ability. He doesn’t have to speak any spell words to mess with someone’s mind.” Benjamin grimaced in frustration. “I don’t know exactly how he does it, but the power just flows out of him. No ordinary human can say no to him.”

  “You’re saying this Adam character scrambled Maya’s brain?” Eric scowled. “Okay, I’ll play along and pretend I believe all this mumbo-jumbo. Why would Adam do this to her?” Stopping Benjamin’s reply, he added, “And how do we know you aren’t the one who did this to her?”

  Benjamin stared at the two men, clenching his teeth, dull anger turning to fury at Adam. “I don’t know.” Had Adam gone behind his back in an attempt to speed up the process of assuring his immortality and sending Benjamin on to EverVerse? He pulled himself back from his thoughts and felt the men’s withering, suspicious stares.

  “I’d never do that to Maya. I wouldn’t use Mesmer power on anyone. It’s not right. Besides.” He shrugged. “I’m not that good at magic.”

  “Again, assuming all this is possible—” Eric’s expression indicated he thought it was anything but possible, but had no better explanation at the moment “—what do we need to do to fix Maya?”

  Benjamin had nothing to say. What could he do? Confront Adam? Adam was supposed to give him time to work up a solution to the EverVerse problem. If Adam had already broken the deal, he probably wouldn’t be helpful, especially not after Benjamin broke his nose.

  Rubbing the bump on his own nose, Benjamin drew in a breath of coffee- and pastry-tinged air, reining in his frustration. He could defend himself when necessary, but violence wasn’t a comfortable habit.

  “Maya should be immune to Mesmer spells,” Benjamin said. “Her own magical ability should protect her from Adam’s power.”

  “You said Adam’s version of this power is different,” Eric said. “Maybe that’s why he was able to put the whammy on her.” He rolled his eyes. “Listen to me. Like I believe any of this crap.”

  “Maybe,” said Benjamin.

  “Maybe we should call her parents,” said Eric.

  Roland cringed. “Oh, God, her mother. Maya will kill us.”

  “Wait,” said Benjamin. “I might be able to do something.” An idea, a dully, unpleasant idea, coalesced in his head. “Give me until tomorrow morning. If Maya isn’t herself again by then, you can call her parents.”

  Eric cocked his round head at Benjamin. “What are you going to do?”

  Benjamin bit his tongue, tasting blood and cursing his “brother.”

  “In a manner of speaking, sell my soul.”

  “No,” said Breas.

  “Why not?” said Benjamin, braving a scowl at the vampire. He stood in Breas’s living room. Breas sat in his customary spot on the couch, the blue light of the television playing across his pale face.

  “Because I’m not in the fairy godmother business.”

  “I’ll pay you. Everything in my account. It’s close to eight million and my investments—”

  “Are a fraction of what I’m worth. I don’t need your money, Red.” He grinned. “Eight million? You’re a clever little squirrel, Black. Either that or I’m paying you too much.”

  “I think I’ve read every book on investing that’s ever been written.”

  The bottle in the vampire’s hand was empty. “You need another beer,” Benjamin said with forced brightness. He hurried into the kitchen and got the vampire another cold one. “You need a servant, then, a familiar,” he continued, handing Breas the beer and trying to look as subservient as possible.

  Breas made a face that required more muscles than Benjamin thought the vampire’s face possessed. “You? If I wanted a familiar, she’d be tall, blonde and damned near better-smelling than you.”

  “Then what? Blood?” Though he tried not to hide his revulsion for the idea, his face betrayed him.

  Breas didn’t care. “You’re not my vintage. Besides, I ate well last night.” His smile chilled Benjamin to the bone.

  “There has to be something. Everyone has his price.”

  “Fix it so Brazil wins the World Cup.”

  Benjamin’s frustration flowed in angry currents. “Something realistic, Breas.” He looked over the vampire’s shoulder at the thick blinds. A vengeful image of him pulling them back and watching the bastard fry flitted across his imagination.

  “I’ll rip your pretty red head off before you even get near the window.” Breas smiled and it wasn’t a pleasant expression.

  Wearied by frustration and helplessness, Benjamin sagged, shoulders slumping. “Then teach me how to do a Mesmer spell.”

  “You forgot to say please.”

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t get involved in the affairs of humans.”

  “I’m not human.”

  Breas scowled at Benjamin, eyes narrowing to dark slits. “If it quacks like a duck.”

  Benjamin stared at Breas, unblinking. Minutes passed; his eyes started to burn but he didn’t avert his gaze.

  “I can hurt you in ways you’ve never imagined,” snarled the vampire.

  “Then do it. Or help me help Maya.”

  The vampire’s eyes widened and Benjamin felt the air compressing with magical power. Oh, crap. He’s going to send me to some hellish demon world. But he held his ground, glowering at the blond vampire with fierce determination. Pressure started to build in his ears as the air moving into his lungs burned and thinned. Though he tried to hide the effect of whatever Breas was doing to him, after a minute his mouth opened and he gasped like Delilah out of water. Pain moved in his skull as his sinuses began to sear. Fighting the urge to run, to scream, he clenched his hands into fists, only to find that his muscles had started to hurt.

  “Fine,” said Breas and the air around Benjamin loosened abruptly and started to return to normal. “I’ll do it.”

  “You will?” Benjamin gulped, shuddering under the residual effects of whatever Breas had done to him. “For free?”

  “Of course not.” Breas set his beer on the coffee table and leaned forward, his gray eyes now yellow. “Someday I’m going to ask you for a favor. And you’ll say yes, no matter what.”

  Benjamin found himself nodding, too shaky to speak. What difference did it make? He’d probably be in EverVerse soon. If that little technicality had escaped the soulless smuggler, then Benjamin wasn’t going to remind him.

  Breas smiled. “I’m a Tempus Mage. I can follow you anywhere, even EverVerse.”

  Damn. “Deal. Now help Maya.”

  “What’s her address? I’ll pay her a visit.”

  “It’s…” Benjamin paused. “Don’t let her invite you in.
”

  “Rules? You’re in no position to be making rules.”

  “No invitations,” said Benjamin, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “All right, fine, no invites.” His gaze panned over Benjamin, pity and condescension on his face. “You’re too far gone, boyo. You were your own man until you met her.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Magic, like adrenaline, can only sustain the human body for so long. Maya worked most of the night before finally passing out and sinking into a restless, uncomfortable sleep on the tile floor. When she awoke around ten the next morning, she was consumed by an irrational irritation at the weakness of her body, at its need for rest. Thanks to her unpleasant nap, she’d lost several hours of time, time she could have used to make more people for Adam.

  Success, however, was elusive this day. Her magic felt sluggish and too watery to compress. When the doorbell rang at six in the evening, she startled, heart pounding, afraid that Adam had returned. Not yet. I still haven’t finished.

  Fearing it might be Adam—or perhaps worse yet, Roland again—she crept down the hall toward the front door. The bell goaded her, whoever was on the other side of the door merrily pushing every second. A dull ache began, spreading from her ears up to her forehead as she struggled with the lock, before she realized it had been unlocked the entire time.

  With an exasperated snarl, she yanked the door open and squinted into the darkness of her doorstep, frowning at the person who stood there. She reached out and grasped the door frame to steady herself, gusts of magical compulsion trying to drag her back to her studio. Her mouth hung open for a few seconds before she said, “I’m sorry, but whatever it is, I’m not buying.” Drained by the effort of speaking, she stared at the man on her doorstep.

  Sudden fear tightened her stomach. One of the predators—a vampire.

  Of all the magical beings she had seen over a lifetime, vampires were the most unassuming, not hiding behind a glamour because, appearing human, none was necessary. Despite that, they emanated such a complete lack of humanity, Maya never doubted they were more, or perhaps less, than human.