Deep magic second coll.., p.59
Deep Magic - Second Collection, page 59
part #2 of Deep Magic Collection Series
Gerald’s eyes widened a bit. “What do you mean ‘isn’t what it appears’? You’re not as successful as everyone thinks? How can that be with this house, your car, and everything else?”
Percy smiled at that. “No, nothing like that. If anything, I’ve got even more work than what anyone realizes. It’s just that I’ve decided to specialize a little bit.”
Gerald shook his head, still confused. “You’re specializing your orthodontics practice? To what? And how does any of that have to do with the fact that you’re sitting here, on a Tuesday, without a care in the world?”
Percy sighed, took a sip of his drink and sat down on the couch. “A few years back, actually almost right after I got out of school, I had someone ask to meet with me. I tried to direct him to my receptionist but he told me he wanted to meet with me, in person, without anyone else around.”
Gerald startled at this small revelation. Percy didn’t seem to notice as he was still trying to figure out how to tell Gerald the rest of his story.
“I was a little nervous about meeting him. At first, I thought it might be something sketchy. I mean, who wants to meet with an orthodontist alone? I actually had a letter written on my computer with an explanation of what I had been doing and the name of the man who I was meeting with for the police to find in case something did happen to me.”
Gerald chuckled at this. But not for long. He wasn’t sure where Percy’s story was going but the similarities between his experience and his brother’s was beginning to frighten, and intrigue, him.
“So after the office had closed for the day and everyone else had left for home, the mystery man came to the back door of the office and knocked. He basically told me he had a very large family and group of friends who needed orthodontics work. Unfortunately, they all had similar genetics that caused their teeth to grow in crooked.
“But he told me this wasn’t just a matter of pride. The fact that the teeth weren’t growing in right was a matter of living and dying for his family.”
Gerald’s eyes got bigger and he quickly set his glass down before he dropped it. “What do you mean it’s a matter of living and dying? How can that be?”
Percy didn’t answer right away. He sighed, swirled his drink around and finally looked up. “I don’t know that you’ll believe me. But I promise that everything I tell you is true. This man and his family are werewolves.”
Gerald startled and stood halfway up from his seat. Percy misunderstood why, however, and kept talking before his brother could say anything.
“I know. It doesn’t sound like it’s real. I could tell you a bunch of stories that you’ll believe before you’ll believe this one. But I can’t live this life any longer without at least someone knowing. The vast majority of my clientele are werewolves. And because of that, I can really only work 3 weeks out of every month. As it gets closer to a full moon, like it is now, none of my patients will schedule appointments. So I’ve just started closing my office for that week.”
Percy stopped talking and waited for Gerald to soak in what he had told him. He had a very worried look on his face - as if he knew Gerald was about ready to call his parents to take him to the hospital. Instead, Gerald stood up and smiled.
“Come on. I need to show you something,” he said, and began walking toward the door.
Percy didn’t get up. “What do you mean you have to show me something? I tell you most of my patients are werewolves and you have something to show me?”
“Yep, come on.”
The brothers walked out the door and began walking to where Gerald had parked his car. As they got close, Gerald pulled the key fob out of his pocket and unlocked the car. As the horn sounded and lights flashed, Percy did a double take. And then another double take at Gerald’s smile.
“Wait…I’m confused. This is your car? But how?”
For Gerald, he felt like he could finally breathe for the first time in a long time. He had felt like he was alone for so long. Tears pricked his eyes as he smiled at his brother. He knew he finally had someone he could confide in. And he could actually tell someone his secret.
Gerald was an orthodontist for vampires.
ABOUT DAN HILTON
Dan is a voracious reader who won a writing contest in 4th grade and decided to cap his pen and never write again so he didn't taint his win-loss record. Dan's three favorite things growing up were the Phoenix Suns, books and juggling. He's currently found a way to make money at two of those working as a Digital Consultant with the Phoenix Suns and also proofreading and editing for independent authors. He's still looking for a way to get into professional juggling. When he's not working or reading, Dan is spending time with his beautiful wife and three wonderful kids.
TIME PIECES
By Kristin J. Dawson | 6,700 Words
Prompt (Wulf Moon): You live in Des Moines, Iowa. You open Facebook. A notice appears. “Kristin. The weather in Chichen Itza today will be 92 degrees farenheit and 98 percent humidity. Have a nice day!” Odd. You haven’t been doing travel research, and you’ve never been to Mexico. Another fail on their personal data collection. You dress for a job interview, put on a little luscious ruby lipstick, and decide today is a great day to wear that gold necklace you just bought at a pawn shop. As you reach in your jewelry box, you decide gold earrings would be nice as well. And how about that bracelet you got on your anniversary? And wouldn’t all your rings look nice on your hands? You are compelled to wear it all, it just feels right. You step out your door into blinding sunlight. Mayans in feathered headdresses stand all around you. “You will be a great offering to Chac’ Mol,” they say, and, what’s more, you understand them. “Come. The honor awaits you.”
ANNIE’S ALARM BUZZED but she was already awake and staring out her window, which overlooked the venerable brick tower in downtown Springfield, Ohio. The pre-morning light cast the gray shadows into muted relief. The old iron arms on the clock still worked, probably because it had been engineered by a shipping magnate back in the mid-nineteenth century when people seemed to take particular interest in how things were constructed. That, or the industrialist had gobs of money to throw around. Annie marveled at how long it must’ve taken an engineer to fiddle with the guts and gears of the clock to make it whir just so, defying time itself.
At the moment, Annie stared at the clock out of more than simple appreciation of the craftsmanship; it helped her breathe. Alone, in her tiny studio apartment in a town where no one knew her, the deep clicking represented home. It was safe.
A notification dinged on Facebook and for a second, excitement prickled inside her. She snatched her phone, hoping to see a message from one of her surviving brothers or sisters. She scrolled down the feed, past the video of funny kittens, the weather in Chichén Itzá, and a “must see” Frank Lloyd Wright open house. A sigh escaped Annie’s lips. No messages.
She rolled out of bed and started to prepare for the day. She still had bills to pay. Annie’s stockpile of food and cash from her last stint here was almost gone. If only the witch made meals appear like she made requests for rent disappear.
Through the cracked window, the spring rains left a scent of rich soil, a hint of mildew, and wet pavement. Annie reached for her favorite pair of jeans, but before she could grab them her hand jerked over to a flowing wrap skirt in mint green, then to a lightweight blouse relegated to the back of her closet. She brushed her thick, black bangs to a shine and decided to punch up her outfit with a bold, coral lipstick. The gold necklace she had bought at a pawnshop years ago would compliment it nicely. Annie paused before clasping the hook behind her neck, trying to think through the million reasons she could be compelled to put a necklace on.
A revered Hawaiian matriarch? A noblewoman in the middle ages? She’d been happiest as a high ranking servant in Egypt during Cleopatra’s reign; the combination of staying in one place for a year and learning shocking insights into the royal family made for a stellar trip.
No, no. It was best not to imagine her next placement. She never guessed correctly anyway, and it was all the more disconcerting when she had to re-adjust her plan. Annie released a breath and let the magic take over, doing its work to prepare her.
The jewelry box called her attention, subduing the twinge of nerves at the periphery of her consciousness. A pair of hoop earrings, yes. She stacked the bracelets, the more the better. Her fingers looked so nice all adorned with rings, plus two on her knuckles. Chunky jewelry, not the dainty items she normally preferred.
She stepped out her door into blinding sunlight. Mayans in feathered headdresses stood all around. Annie forced herself to stand tall and take a slow breath. Even after so many trips, each gate-jump was still a shock to her senses.
“You will be a great offering to Chac’Mol,” the elderly man nearest to her said. Of course, Annie understood him – that was part of the magic.
“Come. The honor awaits you,” the graying Mayan continued.
Annie stood on a ledge, high on a dizzying pyramid. The cool morning air had the distinct promise of sweltering summer heat. On the grounds surrounding the pyramid, thousands of people stared up at her, filling the flat, open space below. Straight ahead was a structured stone and canvas city. Beyond the cleared area, a magnificent jungle sprawled as far as Annie could see, so dense it threatened to engulf the stone courtyard, homes and other structures on the fringe of the city.
The Mayans with the feathered headdresses stood on the narrow steps. Annie wondered how gravity didn’t plunge them down the side of the steep pyramid. In all the pictures she’d ever seen of Mayan temples, they’d seemed box-like, not these treacherous, severe angles. She swallowed, wishing for a firm handrail.
Annie had been through worse, only not so quickly out of the gate. Her cool head under pressure had kept her alive all these years. She raised her hand, flashing the “peace” sign high above her head. If any of her siblings were present and in disguise, they’d recognize their symbol and come to her aid. The witch didn’t usually allow her puppets to cross paths with each other this late into their journeys, but it was worth a shot.
To Annie’s surprise, the Mayans in the headdresses prostrated themselves on the stone steps. The crowd gasped and fell to their knees. Either that meant her death would be imminent or delayed. She hoped for the latter. A brother or sister who’d come before must’ve created a myth around their hand signal. Annie hoped establishing their symbol into infamy didn’t require anything too painful. She suppressed a shudder and instead raised her chin and widened her stance. Goddesses doubled down, or else they died like a mortal.
Annie regarded the nearest Mayans, likely influential spiritual leaders, through heavily-lidded eyes. She waved for them to stand.
When in doubt, let others fill the void, as her older sister, Hannah, had taught her. Annie waited for the Mayan leaders to speak first.
One particularly lean Mayan with a stately nose spoke. “I am Tikhama, High Priest of Chac’Mol. We have waited many seasons since a prophetess proclaimed you would reveal yourself. It is an honor to witness your sacrifice.”
Fantastic. So the sacrifice-event was still happening. Why couldn’t the prophecy be something helpful, like ‘feed the newcomer grapes and cheese with a side of historic storytelling’? Annie gritted her teeth and hoped she appeared more vengeful than nervous. One of her siblings had prepared an opportunity for her, but it was difficult to be appreciative while holding back vertigo-induced nausea.
None of her siblings were blood related. Their bond was tighter than that. Their mutual stupidity combined with the constant threat of death created a new type of nuclear family — Children of the Grim Witch.
As a teenager, Annie had gone to a small town fair, one of the traveling exhibitions that routinely broke down their tents and roller coasters, and moved from town to town. One of the tents had a curious fortuneteller. Annie had giggled, but beneath her humor, she had been intrigued. Accepting the stranger’s invitation, she stepped inside the tent, finding it less mystical than her imagination had predicted. The fortuneteller made small talk as she arranged crystals and crumbling incense on a cramped table.
“And what of you, child? Fancy traveling the world? A cure for a dull summer, surely.” The fortuneteller smiled, eyes bright.
“Yeah, sure.” Annie shrugged and nodded.
The fortuneteller held up a silver half-coin, twirling it between her gnarled fingers. “This is the first piece of your puzzle, child. Or rather for five dollars, it can be.”
“I already paid for my fortune.” Annie balled her hands into fists under the table, embarrassed. She shouldn’t have fallen for the old woman’s cheap trick.
“You paid for me to tell your fortune, and here it is: you will travel much and soon. But for you to have any chance of solving your riddle, you will need what I can give and for that, you must pay a price. An accord always has a cost.” The fortuneteller set the coin on the table with a dull thud and slid it so it was almost touching Annie’s fingertips. The piece looked like someone had punched a hole in the center of a silver disk, cut it in half, and etched an ornate pattern into the surface. Annie rolled her eyes and slapped a five-dollar bill on the table.
Annie had not known her agreement was real. Binding. And deadly. For only five dollars and a nod of her head, Annie was given the first piece of her formidable puzzle. The moment her fingers touched the silver, she was ripped away from everything and everyone she’d ever known.
At first Annie despaired, bound to the witch’s fortune forever. But she learned that each of the witch’s victim’s also had an opportunity to escape. A piece to their individual puzzles was hidden in each location they visited. The pieces waited throughout time to be gathered one by one. Together, they formed a portal that only the one who constructed it could control. Annie was so close to finishing her portal, she could almost taste it. Until she found that final piece, finished the puzzle, and formed her own portal, the witch’s magic controlled Annie’s life. The siblings surmised it was an entertaining game for the witch. Who would live and who would die? They suspected in the witch’s estimation that a finished portal of their own to control was a generous reward for their folly.
Folly or not, the Mayans seemed intent on sacrificing Annie at their earliest opportunity.
The lean Mayan spoke again. “The prophetess who foretold of the Pinnacle Sacrifice appeared in our village when I was a small child.”
“What do you remember of her words?” Annie hoped the prophecies were carved into stone, exact phrases recorded. She narrowed her eyes for effect, staring at each man as if daggers would stab them. When in doubt, do dagger-eyes; it saves lives.
“The prophetess Hanaa spoke of a coming Pinnacle Sacrifice. She revealed the sign only to the priests, so we would recognize the One,” Tikhama said.
Annie suppressed a grin. Hanaa was clearly a variation of Hannah, the big sister who’d found Annie after her first gate-jump. Without Hannah, Annie would’ve been killed on her debut deer-in-the-headlights time travel “excursion.” True to her sister’s word, Hannah stopped being portal-jumped to Annie’s locations after a few missions. Also as Hannah had warned, each portal piece was progressively more difficult to obtain.
“Ah, Hanaa spoke wisely. What else did the prophetess foresee?” Annie asked.
“The prophetess advised that the Pinnacle Sacrifice be given anything they desired until dusk. At sunset, instead of being thrown down these steps, the Pinnacle Sacrifice must leap into the Sacred Well,” Tikhama said.
“So let it be written. So let it be done.” Movie lines came in oh, so handy when Annie was at a loss for words. Discovering a magical piece usually took months to find, even a year wasn’t unusual. Annie’s stomach twisted. Breathing deeply, she averted her gaze from the dizzying steps. Hannah must have prepared a way for Annie to find her portal before dusk.
“I desire time to meditate near the Sacred Well.” Annie held out her hand, confident Hannah specified that site for a reason.
The lean priest took her hand, escorting Annie down the narrow steps. What ‘Pinnacle Sacrifice’ meant exactly, she didn’t know. She couldn’t worry about it. Besides, once Annie had the artifact in hand, she’d vanish before their eyes.
“My name is Tikhama,” the priest introduced himself. But Annie merely nodded, all her energy focused on keeping her face neutral.
Annie’s foot slipped on a narrow step, but the Mayan escort’s grip was steady. Whatever seed Hannah had planted in the Mayan’s minds would be destroyed if that prophesied Pinnacle Sacrifice slipped and rolled headlong down the side of the pyramid in a distinctly ungraceful, unchosen, unGoddess-like manner. If Tikhama suspected her lies, he offered no indication. Feet safely planted on the packed dirt, Annie breathed a sigh of relief. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for Annie and the priests.
“The Sacred Well is not far.” Tikhama pointed to a path cutting through the jungle. “No one will disturb the Pinnacle Sacrifice. I will see to it.”
On the path, tree trunks, thick vines, and vibrant flowers burst through the ground with fierce vengeance, crumbling every surface not meticulously tended. Ahead appeared a clearing in the jungle, stones laid in an ornate pattern surrounding a chasm in the ground. A chill fell over Annie, goose bumps pricking her arm.
The sinkhole was over a hundred feet wide, and from where they stood, it was at least eighty feet down to the surface of the waters. Below, the blue-green water grew too dark to pierce past fifty feet deep. If gold glittered beneath the surface, any trace was swallowed. The well emanated power and death. Annie froze several steps away from the edge. This was no timid wishing well. And what was worse, Annie didn’t feel any of the witch’s magic nearby.
“Leave me,” Annie said, more crossly than she’d intended.
Her escort bowed and stepped back. Two boys who’d appeared on the path paused, looking from Annie to Tikhama. He waved and the two boys hurried to leave, their bundles still tucked under their arms and in their hands.
