The Page of Wands
by Eric Muss-Barnes

Copyright © 2015 Eric Muss-Barnes. All Rights Reserved.

All rights reserved under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, the Universal Copyright Convention and the Berne Convention For The Protection Of Literary And Artistic Works. The author of this book, Eric Muss-Barnes, secures all rights to this book, including the right to reproduce this book in whole or in part, in any form whatsoever, and extends such privileges to absolutely no other parties, individuals or companies. Not including eBook exemptions of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, in whole or in part, by any electronic, mechanical, or other means including, but not limited to, all existing and yet to be invented information duplicating, storage or retrieval systems, without specific permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages.

Published by Eric Muss-Barnes at Dubh Sith Ink

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Hardcover, paperback, and ebook editions of this book contain the complete and identical text. Not one word has been altered or omitted.

Address all correspondence and order inquiries to:
www.DubhSithInk.com

Cover designed and created by Eric Muss-Barnes

Cover model Amanda Baker

PRINTED AND MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

First International Printing: March 2015 (On Demand)

Table Of Contents

The Page of Wands

by Eric Muss-Barnes

Title
Copyright
Donations
Dedication
Books by Eric Muss-Barnes
Proem
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Biography
Other books by Eric Muss-Barnes
Colophon
Back Cover

Donations

Dear Reader,

As a writer, the most important reason I publish my books is so good folks like yourself can read and enjoy them. Therefore, in order to make my writing available to the largest possible audience, I have decided to make all of my ebooks available for whatever price readers think is fair.

Here is how it works...

You can download any of my ebooks for free and donate money for it later. Instead of having a set cover price, you can visit www.DubhSithInk.com and give whatever you think this ebook is worth. $1.00 or $5.00 or $50.00 or $18.63 or a nickel. Anything you want. Only you can decide how much value my writing brings your life.

If you can't afford to pay for this ebook, please share a copy with people in your life who would enjoy the story. Some friends. A few family members. A couple coworkers. Anybody you like. Or perhaps, you might be kind enough to write a glowing review for this ebook on the Internet? Whatever helps my writing gain a larger readership is just as generous as a monetary donation.

Perhaps I am naïve in thinking I can earn a living by giving away my stories and requesting donations, instead of selling this ebook for a set price. Nevertheless, in a world where greed and digital piracy has divided people into thieves and misers, I believe readers will gladly spend hard-earned money to support writers who pen worthwhile tales. I believe you are exactly that sort of reader, and I humbly hope you will regard me as that kind of writer.

Thank you for your time. May your few short hours spent with this story enrich all the remaining decades of your life.

Respectfully,

Eric Muss-Barnes

www.DubhSithInk.com

Dedication

The Page Of Wands

is dedicated to my two favorite writers

Harlan Ellison

&

Ray Bradbury

§

they say you should never meet your heroes

but in my case

it was a great honor

to have met them both

Books by Eric Muss-Barnes

Speculative Fiction & Novels

The Gothic Rainbow: Beginning Volume of The Vampire Noctuaries

Annwn’s Maelstrom Festival: Concluding Volume of The Vampire Noctuaries

The Page of Wands

Voodoo & Loveshadow

Grandpa Steiner Saves the World (from Illegal Aliens (from Space))

Non-Fiction & Memoirs

How You Can Get a Job at Walt Disney Studios Without a College Degree

Schooling Your Boss to not Suck

Short Story Anthologies

Tales from The Dark Tower: “Born of the Night”

The Skateboarder’s Journal - Lives on Board 1949-2009: “Origins”

Horrible Poetry He Wrote As A Teenager

Forever Loving You

Proem

Harlan Ellison, one of my writing idols, once chided me and said my introductions were too long and I shouldn’t “pad all this crap” at the start of my books. I’m only telling you this because I’m still so excited by the fact that I actually met Harlan Ellison, had numerous conversations with him, and was even invited to dinner by the man. I sure as hell didn’t argue with him. After all, he’s Harlan Ellison. The fellow has published 1500 more stories than I’ve ever written. I also didn’t point out that his compendium The Essential Ellison rambles on for 28 damn pages before the first story starts. Twenty-eight pages, man! Plus, there are TWO identical title pages. Two! Who the hell needs two identical title pages? And he says I ramble on too much? Pssh!

But I didn’t tell him that, because, hey, he’s Harlan Ellison.

And because I didn’t think of that comeback until hours later.

Nevertheless, I will try to keep this short.

When attempting to describe this book, I tell folks it’s like the movie Jumanji meets It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. Magic and craziness, but with an ensemble cast of wacky characters.

The story and the style is a bit of a departure from other stories I’ve written before it. Lighthearted and fun, The Page of Wands is intended to be a rollicking adventure and an enjoyable “what if” fantasy for people to dream about. What if you got The Wand? What would you do with it? Who would you try to give it to?

This one was a lot of fun to create. I am absolutely in love with the concept of this world. I’m very proud of this one. For me, writing this was was like playing a game of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and watching The Goonies all rolled into one. I had a blast with it. I hope you will too!

Hey, if nothing else, at least I didn’t pad a bunch of crap in the beginning.

- Eric Muss-Barnes

March 2015

Chapter One

Old widow McCreadle was never very good at remembering her dreams, until the fateful morning she dreamt of The Wand.

“Oh, my!” Her wrinkled hand rushed over her heart as she started up in bed. Her voice was neither upset nor loud. Just a stern cry of surprise in the tone that only old women can muster. Nothing frightful happened in the dream, she was just a bit startled by how real everything seemed to be.

Most people slumber in deep, vivid dreams when they are children, but their ability to recall such visions fades as they grow older. Mrs. McCreadle wasn’t even good at remembering them during her youth. But, on the extraordinary morning she found The Wand, the vision of her dream lingered so dazzling in the pale light of dawn, she could still smell the desert frost and feel the faint texture of wood beneath her fingertips. When the first drops of sun began to peek through her blinds, she couldn’t be sure if she was awakening or yet dreaming.

§

As she stands upon the hillside, Mrs. McCreadle is awestruck by the glory of the desert sunrise. She has never seen one before. She has heard relatives speak of how magnificent the sunrise looks in the desert. She has read about it in books and seen one or two on television shows. None of that has prepared her for witnessing such a sunrise for herself. Words can not do it justice. Like the birth of a child, or your first kiss, it is an experience in life which must simply be experienced to be understood. Dawn in the desert paints the breadth of the landscape and pours watercolors of such beauty across the sky, even the most staunch of atheist would be moved to imagine that only the hand of God could create such a vision of heaven on earth.

There upon the rock, overlooking the vast sands and the tiny outline of the city far below, was The Wand. A beautiful wooden staff, no more than six feet tall, the texture gnarled and smooth, like something polished over centuries of serving as a walking stick for immortal wizards. Mrs. McCreadle doesn’t understand how she knows this staff was called “The Wand” - it is simply one of those odd bits of knowledge one inexplicably possesses in the dreamscape.

Far near the ridgeline, she notices a mysterious young cowboy who seems to be watching her. Unable to make out his eyes, he tips a comfortable leather hat and grins just slightly. Turning from her, the cowboy slowly walks off and vanishes over the horizon.

The Wand seems held in place by magic. It is neither levitating nor staked into the ground, yet it stands upright and true - a balancing act which should be impossible. Mrs. McCreadle approaches The Wand and gingerly touches her finger to that glassy wood. The moment her hand comes in contact with the staff, green leaves of light sprout forth from the top, in a sizzle of sparks and faerie dust.

Gasping in shock and delight, Mrs. McCreadle draws her hand back over her heart.

“Oh, my!”

§

The desert sunrise fades to the white of light through the blinds.

Mornings were different for her then. She still missed him. He had only been gone for a year, so she still expected to find his weight next to her. We all fear growing old alone, but even more, we fear finding love and being the widow or widower. Unfortunately, at this point in her life, that’s exactly where Mrs. McCreadle found herself.

She sighed quietly and set her feet to the floor. Something in her heart was less sad that morning though. Maybe it was the strange dream about The Wand, maybe it was a little more light through the blinds. Who knows? All she knew was, her heart felt lighter that day, and she smiled to greet the dawn. Shuffling to the window, she opened it to the morning breeze. That window hadn’t been opened in years. Sure enough, Mrs. McCreadle was right. The day was brighter for some reason. And as the soft wind of morning tickled a blonde hair down her cheek, she relished the dew-sweet taste of daybreak.

§

“Morning.” Her daughter, Hanna McCreadle, smiled in the kitchen. Pretty and in her youthful thirties, Hannah was the spitting image of her mother, with deep green eyes and hair that bounced like the shy shrugs of schoolgirls. Hanna had come back home after her dad passed away. You know the story:

She wanted to be there for her mother.

Her mother pestered Hanna to go live with her “nice young man” of a boyfriend.

But, secretly, Mrs. McCreadle loved having Hanna around.

Widows and daughters have played those roles for eternity.

“Good morning.” Mrs. McCreadle answered warmly. “Up already?”

Hanna munched some toast. “It’s 9 o’clock.”

“Goodness! I overslept.” Mrs. McCreadle looked wide-eyed at the stove clock for confirmation.

“I know. You never do that. Everything okay?”

Mrs. McCreadle patted her daughter’s shoulders reassuringly and headed toward the coffeepot. “Fine. Fine, dear. Just tired, I suppose.”

She mentioned nothing about the dream. For someone who never remembers their dreams, one might imagine she’d be eager to bring it up. But, actually, quite the opposite was true. When someone fails to recall their dreams, they tend to keep quiet in talking about them, even on the rare occasion something amazing happens in one. Although, despite not talking about it to Hanna, Mrs. McCreadle wondered if her dream had anything to do with oversleeping, and reckoned it had.

“Paper?” Mrs. McCreadle asked.

“Didn’t look.” Hanna replied, somewhat apologetically. “I’ll get it.”

“No, no. That’s fine. I’ll get it. Eat your toast.” Mrs. McCreadle insisted.

Hanna had been back home for months, yet she still always forgot they even delivered newspapers anymore. Mrs. McCreadle lamented how thin the Saturday Morning newspaper had become, but she continued to subscribe diligently. Something about it just felt more tactile to her. In a world of advancing technology and electronics, there was something comforting in the smell of that old newsprint and the feel of scalloped paper edges beneath the fingers.

That morning, as she walked to the door, she carried with her a newfound joy and anticipation for getting her hands on those pages.

§

The jute brown of the woven Home Sweet Home welcome mat was covered by the Saturday paper. Laying atop the paper was The Wand, its gentle golden wood matching the color of the jute perfectly, as if it was always meant to be there.

Mrs. McCreadle’s eyes widened.

Her lips opened, as if to gasp in shock, but no sound came out.

She recognized The Wand immediately.

It looked exactly as it had in her dream, minus the magical upright pose, of course. Now, The Wand was just laying on her stoop like a plain old stick. Nothing special about it at all, other than the beauty of the wood.

She glanced back and forth over her neighborhood, half expecting this to still be a dream.

The day was nothing more than a typical, sunny, Summer morning. A few sprinklers were watering the grass. A lawnmower was buzzing merrily a few houses down. Mr. Starr was washing his car in the driveway. The Bettany kids zipped past on their bicycles, off to have another adventure following the creek in the park down the road.

Who could have left it here?

Little Noah, the paperboy, couldn’t have delivered the paper more than an hour or two ago. The Wand was atop the paper, so surely it arrived after.

Mrs. McCreadle bit her lip, hesitant to touch The Wand. She looked around the neighborhood one more time, hoping to see something, anything unusual which might tip her off to where it came from.

“Morning, Dorothy!” Mrs. McCreadle’s next door neighbor, Alice Szostak, had just brought her little dog out for his morning walk.

“Oh, good morning, Alice!”, answered Mrs. McCreadle.

For a moment, it occurred to Mrs. McCreadle to ask Alice if she had seen anyone unusual leave The Wand on her doorstep. Not wanting to explain herself, she decided against it. Instead, Mrs. McCreadle waved a congenial hello and waited until Alice started walking in the opposite direction.

Just then, far near the corner of her street, Mrs. McCreadle noticed a mysterious young cowboy who seemed to be watching her. Unable to make out his eyes, he tipped a comfortable leather hat and grinned just slightly. Turning from her, the cowboy slowly walked off and vanished over the horizon.

Mrs. McCreadle reached down for the paper and tried to act nonchalant. Holding the paper in front of her face, she pretended to skim the headlines for a moment or two. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want anyone to see her picking up The Wand.

Just when she thought it was safe to bend over and grab it -

“YIP!”

Buddy, Alice Szostak’s dog, announced his arrival in the driveway.

Poor Mrs. McCreadle got such a fright, she dropped the newspaper faster than her skirt on prom night.

Apparently Buddy didn’t want to walk in the opposite direction after all.

Alice tugged on his leash, “Stop it, Buddy. Calm down.”

Smiling up at Mrs. McCreadle, Alice asked, “So, how’s Hanna?”

“Oh, fine. Fine.” Mrs. McCreadle had no idea what to do. She scrambled for the newspaper. What could she cover The Wand with? Alice would surely see The Wand when she came up the drive.

Mrs. McCreadle decided to play it off. She quickly snatched up The Wand and leaned it against the corner of the porch.

“Did you hear about those poor girls on the news?” Alice asked.

“Oh, yes! Awful. Just awful.” Mrs. McCreadle answered.

The latest national scandal was a story about kidnapped young girls who had been trapped in a house for many years. Just the type of story that could keep old ladies gossiping for a half hour.

Sure enough, Alice and Dorothy started chatting about a whole bunch of nothing and before she knew it, Dorothy McCreadle had forgotten all about The Wand, perched not 3 feet away from her. Back inside the house, Hanna heard the low murmur of the two women talking, but had kept to herself, finishing her toast and cleaning the coffeecup.

“Mom?” Hanna eventually came to the front door. “Oh, hello, Alice.” Hanna never called her “Mrs. Szostak” because she never felt comfortable pronouncing the name.

“Good morning, Hanna!”

Turning back to her mom, Hanna said, “I’m going to get ready.”

The McCreadle ladies had planned a day of gardening and needed to stop by the hardware store to pick up some fertilizer.

“I’m sorry, dear.” Mrs. McCreadle said. “We just got to talking.”

“No, no.” Hanna replied. “Take your time. I’m not trying to rush you.”

With that, Hanna waved goodbye to Alice. “Nice seeing you!”

“You too, sweetie!” Mrs. Szostak replied.

As can so easily happen, being awake for a few moments and having conversations in the real world with yipping dogs and making plans for fertilizer purchasing, magic can start to fade.

The Wand didn’t seem so intimidating anymore.

Mrs. McCreadle grabbed it while Alice was still there and starting her farewell. Of course, as everyone knows, wrapping up a conversation between two old ladies can take longer than the conversation itself.

“Oh, that’s pretty.” Alice remarked. “Putting that in the garden?”

Where on earth you put a giant staff as a garden decoration, one couldn’t be sure.

“No.” Mrs. McCreadle shook her head. “I just found this old thing laying around on the porch.”

For the first time, as she turned the staff in her hand, Mrs. McCreadle noticed the finely wrought brass plate, strung to the top of The Wand with an elegant leather strap, woven like schoolgirl braids.

“That’s odd. What’s this?” Mrs. McCreadle noted.

Stamped into the brass, Mrs. McCreadle read the plate aloud.

§

You may use the magic wand for 3 days.

You may only use it in your profession.

You must secretly bequeath it to an anonymous stranger.

§

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alice asked.

“Who knows.” Mrs. McCreadle shrugged it off. “Must be some trinket from one of those swap meets. You know how David was always bringing home the oddest things. Kids probably found it in the garage or something.”

Now, one may think Mrs. Dorothy McCreadle was making this up, just so Alice would stop asking questions. But she wasn’t. Mrs. McCreadle was honestly convincing herself of the story she was telling. After all, it makes a lot more sense that she subconsciously saw this old staff in the garage, and coincidentally dreamed about it, after a neighborhood kid had went off playing with it when the garage was open, than to believe it was a magic wand she saw in a dream, materialized on her front stoop.

Yes.

Of course.

Just an old stick from a swap meet. Nothing more.

Dorothy and Alice said goodbye to each other and Mrs. McCreadle went back into her house with her newspaper in one hand and The Wand in the other.

§

Mrs. McCreadle and Hanna went to the hardware shop just up the road and Hanna was bemused by old Mr. Fisher being bashful around her mother. Dorothy wasn’t ready to entertain the thought of dating anyone, so she was rather oblivious to the affections of Mr. Fisher. Hanna wasn’t so oblivious though, and she thought Mr. Fisher was a kind and decent man. He helped pick out the best fertilizer and carried it out to the car for them.

Talk in the car on the way home wandered to decorations to put along the cobblestone path and the little tiki lanterns illuminating the way.

Mrs. McCreadle thought they could use The Wand, though she didn’t mention it to Hanna on the drive home.

§

Nearing the end of the day, Mrs. McCreadle had all but forgotten The Wand. As the sky began to glow with the golden hour orange and yellow of sunset, it reminded her of the dream, and she suddenly popped up to grab The Wand out of the corner of the front entryway where she’d left it.

“Oh! I’ll be right back. I have the perfect thing.” Mrs. McCreadle told Hanna, but half said just to herself.

When she returned, The Wand was in her hand as she prepared to tie it to a tikilamp, along with some reeds of bamboo.

“That’s beautiful. Where’d you get that?” Hanna asked.

“Oh, I think your father got it at some swap meet. Was in the garage somewhere.”

Hanna walked over and stroked the wood. It felt smooth and reverent like the back of church pews. All those hands touching so much energy of joy and sorrow. Marriages to funerals and all the blissful and agonizing tears polished into the grain.

Spotting the brass placard, Hanna read the rules. “You may use the magic wand for 3 days. You may only use it in your profession. You must secretly bequeath it to an anonymous stranger.”

“We can take that off.” Mrs. McCreadle said, working to untie the leather.

Hanna frowned. She didn’t like the idea of taking off the tag. “You think? I kind of like it.”

“Oh, that’s just kooky. Doesn’t even make sense. Magic wand? There’s no such thing.” Mrs. McCreadle scoffed.

“Well, no, but it’s kind of quaint.” Hanna scrutinized The Wand, admiring the shape of the wood, knurled like driftwood, yet undeniably strong and solid. Indeed it was the perfect walking staff. The end was capped in a sturdy weight of carved bronze, protecting the bottom from wearing out. The endcap looked incredibly old.

The brass plate removed, Mrs. McCreadle tossed it into the trash.

“Only use it in your profession? That’s a weird thing to put on a magic wand.” Hanna observed.

“Well, I’m retired anyway, so I guess it really wouldn’t work for me!” Mrs. McCreadle joked.

“But I bet you could have used a magic wand a few times.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, come on, mother. All those grumpy ladies, I’m sure you had your work cut out for you sometimes.”

Mrs. McCreadle chuckled, “Oh, Hanna! That’s not nice!”

“Well, it’s true! I bet you wished you could just zap those ladies with magic sometimes.”

Beside herself, Mrs. McCreadle laughed. She knew it was mean, but Hanna was right. As a beautician, all the beauty tips in the world couldn’t help some of those women. Giggling, Dorothy McCreadle reached for The Wand and said, “Yes, sometimes it would have been nice to grab my magic wand and say ‘ZAP!’ and - ”

In that instant, a green flash showered forth from the head of The Wand and swirled around Hanna’s face. Both ladies screamed and Mrs. McCreadle instinctively threw The Wand across the patio.

“Hanna! Hanna! Are you okay?”

Mrs. McCreadle immediately rushed to aid her daughter.

Hanna had tumbled backwards off the gardenstool, but she was unscathed. The Wand hadn’t harmed her, rather, she was so startled, the poor girl knocked herself off the stool in amazement.

“What, in the hell, was that!?” Hanna scrambled back to her feet, dusting herself off.

“Are you hurt?” Mrs. McCreadle asked. “Sweetheart, are you - oh, my goodness!”

Dorothy McCreadle’s eyes swelled with bewilderment.

Having been gardening all day, Hanna had been a mess. Unkempt hair. Dirt on her face. Sweaty. No makeup.

Suddenly, she looked radiant.

Hanna looked as if she’d just stepped out of a world-class salon. Her hair shimmered in the fading light, as though just washed by naked baby angels floating on clouds of unicorn farts.

Hanna’s skin was porcelain smooth, not one bead of sweat, not one speck of garden dirt. Her eyes were sparkling the same color as freshwater streams in the deep woods. What made the transformation all the more stunning was that this wasn’t mere makeup. The actual structure of her face had changed. Skin and underlying bone seemed to have been tweaked. She still looked like Hanna, make no mistake, only the most perfect version of Hanna one could imagine.

She was simply glorious.

Seeing her mother’s reaction, Hanna started to panic. “What?... What!? Mom, what is it?”

Hanna reached up towards her forehead. Fingertips scanned her face. “What? Am I bleeding?”

Mrs. McCreadle shook her head. “No. No, baby. You’re fine. Look at this. You have to see!”

Grabbing her daughter by the hand, she dragged Hanna into the halfbath by the livingroom, so Hanna could look in a mirror.

“What? What?” Hanna protested, fondling her face. “Did it burn my eyebrows off or something?”

Hanna let out an audible gasp when she looked in the mirror.

“Oh. My. God!” She stared at her mom, then back to the mirror. “Oh. My. God! Mom!... What the hell?”

Hanna leaned in towards the mirror, then back again. As if she kept expecting her image to somehow change and go back to normal if she looked in the mirror at a different angle.

“What. The. Hell?” She repeated.

Squinting hard, Hanna swiped her index finger over her forehead.

“My scar.” She said. “Mom! Where’s my scar!?”

“Scar?” Mrs. McCreadle asked.

Exasperated, Hanna explained, “My scar! Right here above my right eye. It’s been there since I fell off my bike when I was seven. Remember?”

Mrs. McCreadle looked close at her daughter. “It’s still there. It has to be.”

“Mom, no, it’s not. The scar is gone. Look at my skin!”

Hanna was right.

Mrs. McCreadle could see no sign of the scar.

In fact, her daughter’s skin looked just as luminous as it did when she was 12 years old.

“What the hell is going on?” Hanna asked.

§

Standing over The Wand, neither lady wanted to pick it up.

“Where did you say you found this? A swap meet?”

“Well, no. I found it on the front porch today. I just figured your dad picked it up at a swap meet.”

“You figured? So you’ve never seen this thing before? Mom, if dad got it from a swap meet, why was it on the porch? Who put it there?”

“One of the kids from the neighborhood must have gotten it from the garage.”

“Mom! Did you ever see this thing in our garage? I never have.”

“No. But where else could it come from?”

“What do you mean ‘where else’? You just said you found it on the front porch. It could have come from anyplace!”

“Well, who would leave it on our porch?”

In that moment, Hanna remembered the rules on the brass placard and retrieved the plate from the trashbin.

Shaking the placard at her mom, Hanna said, “This was never in our garage. You’ve never seen it before. What on earth makes you think - Ugh. Nevermind!”

“Well, I don’t know where it came from.”

“That’s exactly my point!”

Hanna was so irritated, she grabbed The Wand without the least hesitation and marched back into the house with it.

§

“You may use the magic wand for 3 days. You may only use it in your profession. You must secretly bequeath it to an anonymous stranger.” Hanna read again.

She and her mother sat at the kitchen table, scrutinizing The Wand and its rules.

“Why don’t you try something else with it?” Hanna said.

“I’m not touching that again. You saw what it did.”

“Yes! Look at me! That thing is amazing.”

“No, I’m not going to mess with that stuff.”

Hanna could tell from her mother’s tone of voice, “that stuff” meant Satanism. Mrs. McCreadle was always a God-fearing woman, so she’d say “that stuff” and never use a word like “Devil” or “Satanic”, but it was pretty obvious she was thinking exactly that, and it freaked her out.

“Fine. Then, I’ll try it.”

“No, you won’t!” Mrs. McCreadle scolded.

Before she could lift a finger to stop her daughter, Hanna picked up The Wand, pointed it at herself and said, “Zap!”

Nothing happened.

Pursing her lips, she shook The Wand as if it were a flashlight with dying batteries. “Abracadabra?”

Nothing.

“Sim sala bim!”

The Wand didn’t so much as flicker.

“Hocus pocus!”

The Wand just sat there.

Mrs. McCreadle was relieved. “Good.” She said. “See, it’s not a magic wand.”

“Mom!” Hanna yelled. “Look at my face! How can you say that!? You’re not making any sense! Just look at me! You saw the light shoot out of this thing! What’s wrong with you? How can you deny what you just saw with your own eyes!? I’m sitting right here in front of you!”

“No, we’re throwing it away.” Mrs. McCreadle stated plainly. Thrilled with her decision, she snatched The Wand from Hanna’s grasp.

“You can’t just say some little ‘hocus pocus’ and swing The Wand around and expect - ”

Hanna gasped. “ - Mom!”

Green light again erupted from the head of the staff. Swirling and glittering, it twirled neon whisps of cotton candy around the kitchen.

“Oh, dear.” Mrs. McCreadle groaned.

§

Mrs. McCreadle stared into the bathroom mirror for 2 or 3 minutes before a single word came out of her mouth.

Every liver spot, every wrinkle, every grey hair, was gone. All the signs of aging wiped clean off her face, as though she had only been wearing makeup in a movie of her life.

The Wand made her look 20 years younger.

Hanna was speechless too.

Mrs. McCreadle stared at her daughter. The expression on Mrs. McCreadle’s face wasn’t readable. It quivered somewhere between tears and terror; between rapture and fear. Her awe and confusion scared Hanna.

“Mom?”

Mrs. McCreadle uttered the first profanity ever spoken in her life.

§

Hanna burst out laughing and both women screamed in excitement.

Mrs. McCreadle covered her mouth for a moment, embarrassed by her cussing, but she didn’t say anything about it to her daughter. She knew that was half the reason Hanna was laughing so hard.

“This is amazing. Amazing!” Mrs. McCreadle had all the fervor of a child discovering Santa Claus is real.

“What else can we do with it?”

“What else?” Mrs. McCreadle hesitated. The thought of using The Wand still scared her a little bit, but her fears were fading fast.

Hanna smiled, determined to keep her mother feeling happy and not allowing her to grow paranoid again, “Yes! What else?”

Grabbing her mother’s hands, Hanna dragged Mrs. McCreadle back into the kitchen. Motioning to The Wand, Hanna said, “Go. Go. Try something else.”

Mrs. McCreadle paused, not with fright so much as confusion. She was willing to attempt working some other magic, she just wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Well,” Mrs. McCreadle stepped towards The Wand, “I suppose I could... um... oh, Hanna. What? What else can I try? Use it in your profession? I’m a retired beautician! What else can I do except a makeover or two?”

Hanna’s eyes clearly sympathized.

Then, with a flash of diamond glint, her eyes sparked and she snapped her fingers, “I’ve got it! Your salon.”

“My salon?”

“Yes! Fix up the salon out back.”

The “salon” had been a renovated part of their back garage. When Dorothy first started as a beautician, she worked out of the kitchen. Her husband, although a loving and supportive spouse, didn’t much care for a kitchen smelling of ammonia and peroxide. So, he fixed up the garage out back and set it up as a little studio salon for Dorothy.

Dorothy worked 5 years in that studio before she went on to a very successful career at local salons. Once that happened, the “studio” became a storage space, became a dusty eyesore, became nothing more than a shed and garage again. The place hadn’t been used as a salon in decades.

“Oh, Hanna,” Mrs. McCreadle said in that doubtful tone she seemed so fond of using, “That old salon is a mess. Besides, I’m retired. What would I do with a salon?”

“Come on, mom. Just try it. See what happens!”

Looking at her beautiful daughter, thinking of her own astounding transformation, Mrs. McCreadle could no longer deny what was happening. By golly, this really was a magic wand! And it really worked! And for 2 more days, it was hers. Where is the harm in using it?

That thought scared her again.

“Hanna? What if there’s a price to pay for using this?”

“Price?”

“Like our souls! What if this is a... devilish thing?” She whispered the word “devilish”, as if he might hear her say it.

“Mom. You really believe in devils?”

“Well, I certainly think this Wand proves there are some strange things in this world we don’t understand. Why couldn’t there be devils? If this magic staff can exist, why not a devil to go with it?”

Hanna shrugged, slightly worried herself, “Well, when you put it that way.”

Silence fell between them.

“But,” Hanna said, “if there’s a Devil, then there must be a God too. Right?”

“Of course there’s a God, Hanna.”

“Well, the Devil can’t take your soul if you never made a deal with him. Right? God wouldn’t allow that. You have to make a deal with the Devil. He can’t just take souls as he pleases. And you didn’t go signing any contracts in blood.” Hanna noted.

Mrs. McCreadle thought it over. She never really read much of her Bible, but that did seem to make sense. As long as she didn’t sign any contracts with the Devil, he couldn’t harm her.

Right?

“Your guardian angel wouldn’t allow that.” Hanna reiterated.

Mrs. McCreadle smiled, nodded, and headed for the back patio. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

Standing in front of the garage, Mrs. McCreadle raised The Wand.

Biting her lip, she whispered to Hanna, “What if the neighbors see?”

“Why are you whispering?” Hanna asked at normal volume.

Mrs. McCreadle hushed Hanna down with a waved palm and lowered The Wand. “Shhh! Because we don’t want them seeing me looking 50 years old, waving a green glowing staff around my backyard! They’ll think I’m some kind of witch or something.”

“Oh, mother! This isn’t 1692. No one will see us and no one will think you’re a witch even if they do. You tell them it’s fireworks and plastic surgery and they forget all about it.” Hanna flicked away the topic like a gnat.

Mrs. McCreadle knew her daughter was right. In a world where no one believes in magic anymore, people will rationalize it away, even when it explodes in a green fireball next door.

“Now try it!” She excitedly ordered her mother, pointing at the shed.

“Okay. Here goes.” Mrs. McCreadle raised The Wand again. She wasn’t sure what sort of magic words to say. Every other time she used The Wand was a mistake. This was her first attempt to do something intentional.

Did she need to use a magic word?

Hocus pocus?

Abracadabra?

Sim sala bim?

What other magic words were there?

Didn’t she say, “Zap!” the first time? That’s not even a magic word!

Why couldn’t that placard have given more instructions?

“Well?” Hanna said.

Mrs. McCreadle glanced over her shoulder, annoyed by Hanna’s impatience, “I’ve got it. I’ve got it.”

Squinting at the garage, Mrs. McCreadle said, “Bibbidi. Bobbidi. Boo!”

Nothing happened.

Hanna looked at her mom sidelong. “Mom. Cinderella? That’s the best you could come up with? It didn’t even work.”

Defensive, Mrs. McCreadle said, “Well, I didn’t know what else to - ”

Green leaves of light exploded from the tip of The Wand, knocking both ladies off their feet. Snaking into the garage, the whole of the building glowed with the pale hue of sunlight through maple trees.

As the energy from The Wand flowed into the salon, what happened next was far more astonishing than either of the McCreadle women could have dared imagine.

The humble garage grew two stories.

Simple brick pathways leading from the yard transformed into finely crafted cobblestone meandering through a glorious garden replete with fountains and a pond and exquisite topiary.

Within the multiple floors of the salon, the place didn’t remotely resemble what it had been 30 seconds earlier. Majestic windows of leaden crystal let in dazzling light from the garden lanterns. The hardwood flooring was embedded with a delicate array of koa and rosewoods in deep red oak and jatoba with purpleheart highlights. Every chair and every station in the salon was made of handsome leathers and polished stainless steel.

An ironwrought spiral staircase lead from the first floor to the balconied second level where guests would be able to sit quietly in a waiting lounge, that was covered by an ivory trellis drenched in ivy.

Even the junk which had collected in the garage was now tucked away in a basement below the salon. Just as beautiful as the upstairs, the basement was modern, inviting, well-illuminated and perfectly arranged. Nice and neat. Clean. Organized. Not a speck of dust or dirt on any of the old tools or bits of broken furniture.

Mrs. McCreadle and Hanna stared at one another in shock.

No. This was certainly not what they had expected.

The ladies had become two little girls again, playing in the most wonderful dollhouse any little girls have ever dreamed of owning. They stayed up late into the night, exploring, laughing, dreaming and never worrying if there would be a devil come to collect a payment for this amazing fortune.

§

Dawn was only a couple hours away when Hanna spun around in one of the salon chairs, admiring the texture of the leather and looking over at her mother, who was staring out one of the windows. They had been toying with their new playhouse all night.

Hanna observed. “I guess you’re not retired anymore.”

Mrs. McCreadle didn’t wait long to reply. Obviously, the same thoughts were already on her mind too. “Oh, I don’t know, sweetie. I left this life behind. I mean, this place is beautiful. Don’t get me wrong. It’s the place I would have always wanted as my own salon. I’m just not sure it’s what I really want to do anymore.”

“Oh, mother. Why not? What would you rather do?” Hanna was about to say that dad was gone and her mother needed something to occupy her time, but she decided against it. Her mother missed Mr. McCreadle everyday. She didn’t need to be reminded of his absence. Instead, Hanna simply said, “It would be good for you to take up a hobby again. Why not just do it for fun? You don’t need to make it a full time business. Just work by appointment only. Only do it when you feel like it.”

Mrs. McCreadle hadn’t thought of that.

Having her dream salon materialize in front of her eyes made her feel obligated to run the business again. But, of course, Hanna was right. Why do that? She’s under no obligation. Why not just do it when she sees fit?

“Do you suppose it will last?” Mrs. McCreadle says.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it says The Wand has to be passed along to a stranger in 3 days. Will this still be here, do you suppose? Does everything The Wand creates vanish after 3 days?”

Hanna touched her hand to her face. She didn’t want the beauty of her changed appearance to be temporary. “Oh, no.” Frightened, Hanna said, “I hadn’t even thought of that. You’re right. What if?”

Mrs. McCreadle reassured her daughter, “Well, there’s no use getting upset over it now. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens come Monday morning.”

“Maybe you should keep the salon a secret then.”

“What do you mean?”

Hanna shrugged. “Well, it’s going to be hard enough explaining to the neighbors where this thing came from. If it suddenly vanishes in 2 days, it’s going to be even more impossible to explain. Until we know for sure that it’s going to still be here, maybe we shouldn’t go telling anyone about it.”

“Hanna,” Mrs. McCreadle said, “it’s 2 stories tall. Half the backyard has turned into an English garden. I think the neighbors are going to notice it.”

Hanna’s head wiggled in agreement, “Okay. You’re right. But, still, I’m just saying maybe we shouldn’t tell tons of people and draw extra, undue attention to it. Like, don’t go booking appointments for Monday afternoon is all I’m saying. Not until we know for sure.”

“Yes. Of course. You’re right. We’ll just keep it to ourselves for now.”

§

Mrs. McCreadle was correct.

When a two-story Tudor-style salon from a faerietale appears in your backyard overnight, it only takes a few hours for neighbors to notice.

Oddly enough though, it caused much less commotion than one would imagine. After all, only neighbors directly surrounding the McCreadle house could see the salon, tucked away as it was, behind hedgerows and homes. One neighbor thought it strange, but figured it was added while they were on vacation. Another found it mysterious, but didn’t make any fuss. After all, there had to be a logical explanation for it, right? Maybe it was just trucked in, early that morning.

“Hey, maybe the McCreadle women conjured it out of thin air with a magic wand!”, was not a thought that would cross anyone’s mind, save for a few of the 10 year old boys in the neighborhood. Naturally, they’d think of that, because that’s what young boys do. But, who would take them seriously?

Mr. Ellsworth peeked over the fence and was astounded, but when he knocked on the front door of the McCreadle house and no one answered, he figured he’d just come back later.

The McCreadle ladies were home, of course. They were locked away all day on Saturday, wondering what kind of explanation they’d give the neighbors, once they were brave enough to answer the door again.

While Hanna ducked out to the grocery store that afternoon, Mrs. McCreadle tried to brave a few other magical experiments.

She tried turning water into wine. No luck.

She tried to make some kitchen appliances levitate. Nothing.

She tried rearranging the furniture in the livingroom. Nope.

She tried cleaning the toilet. Pointless.

But, the moment she tried to conjure up some fresh nailpolish, a whole new rack appeared in the display cabinet of the salon, stocking colors she didn’t even know were possible.

Use it only in her profession?, she thought. No fooling.

Beyond that, Saturday was rather uneventful.

Hanna shopped at a grocery store two neighborhoods away, just to make sure she wouldn’t bump into anyone she knew. Afterward, she came straight home and quickly scurried back into the house before any neighbors noticed.

As it turns out, the only neighbor who really got nosy was Alice Szostak, but she didn’t show up until Sunday morning.

§

Mrs. McCreadle knew she still had to get the morning paper on Sunday. She tried to grab it a little later in the day, but sure enough, Alice happened to walk around the corner with Buddy just at the same time.

Sometimes, the universe just seems to enjoy toying with us at the worst possible moment.

“Morning, Dorothy!” Alice called.

Mrs. McCreadle gasped and turned her face away faster than a prepubescent boy avoiding eye-contact with girls at a school dance.

“Morning, Alice! Gotta run!”

“Dorothy? Did you do something with your hair? You look - ”

The front door slammed as Mrs. McCreadle zipped back in the house.

“Mom?” Hanna called.

“Oh, shoot!” Mrs. McCreadle said.

“What?”

“Alice! She saw me! While I went out to grab the paper!”

“She saw you!? Did she say anything?”

“I think she noticed.”

Hanna tiled her head, “Mom. We talked about this! Why did you go outside?”

“It was just for a second! I couldn’t leave the paper on the front stoop all day. That would have - ”

The ding of the doorbell stopped Mrs. McCreadle.

“Who is that?” Hanna whispered.

“Oh, darnit! Go home and mind your own business, Alice!” Mrs. McCreadle whispered to the front door.

The bell rang again.

“You answer it!” Mrs. McCreadle said.

“Me? Why me?” Hanna asked.

“Because you still look like you. I haven’t looked like this in 20 years.”

Hanna went to the door.

Mrs. McCreadle heard the whole conversation from the kitchen.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. - Alice. How are you?”

“Hanna, dear. Oh, my, you look lovely today! You get your hair done?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Just a bit.”

“Your mother around?”

“Uh, she just jumped in the shower. Anything I can do?”

“Oh! No, dear. You just let her know I stopped by to say hello.”

“Sure, Alice. I’d be happy to! See you later.”

“Buh, bye!”

“Bye.”

Hanna rushed back to her mom and announced, “I’m staying home.”

“No, no. She’s gone. I’ll stay in the house the rest of the day. Today is day three. We should be fine by tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“Go. Have fun!”

Hanna had plans to see her boyfriend Sunday afternoon. She was tempted to break them, wanting to make sure all this weird magical business wouldn’t vanish in a puff of smoke. How would he react if she was far more beautiful than he had ever seen her, for just one day? But, then she figured, why not? She can just attribute it to makeup. Plus, if her good looks were to vanish on Monday morning, what an awful waste it would have been to have them in the first place. What was the point in having a beautiful makeover if no one ever sees it? If you’ve got it, as they say, flaunt it!

Mrs. McCreadle naturally encouraged Hanna.

“Are you sure?” Hanna asked. “Maybe I should just stay with you until we know this is all safe.”

“Nonsense. Go! Have fun!”

“Okay, momma. I’ll be home in a few hours. I’ll have my phone on me if you need me to come home.”

“I won’t need you to come home. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m serious. Call if you - ”

“ - Stop. I’ll call if I need you. Now go.”

§

“Mom? What are you doing!? I thought we agreed not to tell anyone about this until tomorrow!”

Cars lined the street for 10 houses down and there must have been 20 people in the backyard salon by the time Hanna got home late in the afternoon.

Women exiting the salon looked miraculously beautiful. As if everyone walking in was 45 years old and everyone walking out was 25 years old. The transformations were amazing.

“Oh, there you are sweetie!” Mrs. McCreadle said, “Now don’t be upset.”

“Mother! May I speak to you?” Hanna lead her mother back into the house, past the people waiting on the benches by the fountains.

Shutting the patio doors, Hanna laid into her mom.

“Are you crazy!? Where did all these people come from?”

Mrs. McCreadle calmly explained, “Well, after you left, Alice saw the salon over the fence. So, she rang the bell again and I didn’t know what to do, so I answered the door. She saw what I looked like, then she started asking about the salon, so I showed it to her.”

“Did you tell her about The Wand?”

“No, no. Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

“How did all these people get here!?”

“You know Alice. One phonecall and the next thing I knew, gossip spread like wildfire!” Mrs. McCreadle swirled her hands in circles which were somehow representative of how old ladies think wildfire spreads.

“So how did you explain where this came from?” Hanna squinted.

“I claimed it was a bonus life insurance policy from your father which got lost in the initial paperwork. Then I said most of the salon was prefabricated and just assembled in a couple of days. Thankfully, she believed it and didn’t ask much after that.”

Hanna gestured, “What about these makeovers? What if they vanish tomorrow with The Wand?”

“Oh, the ladies won’t know. They’ll think it was just a fluke or a great styling.” Mrs. McCreadle explained.

“Where’s the fun in having a magic wand if you can’t use it?” Mrs. McCreadle shrugged.

“You were the one who was afraid of it. Now you’re just swinging it around like some schoolgirl throwing... Tinkerbell dust!”

“Oh, no, Hanna. That’s the beauty of it. I don’t need to worry about that.” Mrs. McCreadle grinned.

“Mom, if people see glowing green mist shooting from The Wand, people are going to start asking questions!”

“I have them close their eyes.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

Mrs. McCreadle tittered, both pleased and bemused by the concerns of the daughter. “Of course, I’m serious! It makes things easy. How many times do ladies come and get facials and have to shut their eyes in a salon? Happens all the time! It’s perfectly normal. I just do it then.”

Hanna conceded, “That could work.”

“Absolutely, it does work.”

Mrs. McCreadle sat Hanna on a loveseat. Her countenance was serene - a woman speaking the conversation she already rehearsed in her head many times over. “Look, if everything vanishes tomorrow, no harm done. The ladies had a day where their makeover made them feel wonderful about themselves. And if the salon vanishes along with it, I can just play it off like it was a dream.”

Hanna jerked her head, unexpected, at her mother’s words. “What!?”

“A dream.”

“A dream!? Mom, be serious.”

“I am being serious! What’s more reasonable? That a magical salon sprouted up in our backyard for three days and I gave supernatural makeovers to the ladies in the neighborhood, or, they all had a very similar, very strange dream? Trust me, Hanna. If everything disappears, people will rationalize away the oddity of it all, in no time flat. Heck, I’ve made it all happen and I barely believe any of it myself! I’m still expecting to wake up from a dream!”

Mrs. McCreadle threw her arms back and regarded her daughter.

The prepared speech was at an end.

“Fine. Just be careful.” Hanna ordered.

What was there to be careful about?, Mrs. McCreadle wondered.

But she knew. The role of parent and child had reversed and like any authority figure, saying “be careful” always meant the same thing - Hanna had to concede that her mother was right, and was making sense, but Hanna had to get in the last word, to save her pride.

The phone rang as the mother and daughter went back outside.

They wouldn’t notice the voicemail message until Tuesday morning.

“Hello, Mrs. McCreadle? This is Willma Andretch from ABC News. My Aunt Margret just came back from your salon this afternoon. She sent me photos and I was amazed by your work! I would love to book an appointment and possibly do a feature story on your business. Please give me a call back at your earliest convenience. My number is 413-497-0167.”

§

“Where do you intend to leave The Wand?” Hanna asked.

Sunday night. The salon was empty and they were getting ready for bed. The next morning would mark three days. The moment of truth.

Mrs. McCreadle had spent everyday thinking about where to leave The Wand. At first, she naturally thought of friends she might give it to. Then she remembered the stipulation of “anonymous stranger” and decided she didn’t want to risk putting any of her friends in danger for disobeying the instructions.

Her next thought was to give it to someone who did something positive in the community. Someone who could use the power of The Wand for “the greater good” - after all, making a salon and doing a few makeovers wasn’t exactly the most noble of uses for the capabilities of The Wand. Yes, the more she thought it over, the more she wanted to leave it with someone who could do some significant good with it.

“I was thinking of leaving it at the firestation.” Mrs. McCreadle answered.

“The firestation?” Hanna repeated. “Yes. That’s a great idea! Or maybe a hospital? Like at a pediatric wing? Or among terminally ill patients! Maybe it could cure cancer if a doctor got hold of it!”

“I thought of that.” Mrs. McCreadle explained. “But then I realized that only research doctors could do that. A general practitioner doesn’t develop cures. Since I don’t know where I’d find researchers, I figured a fireman was still a good choice.”

“Yeah. But what if there are no fires for the next 3 days?”

Mrs. McCreadle was stern. “Hanna. I could second-guess this ten ways ’til Sunday. I’m leaving it at the firestation.”

“Okay, mom. Okay. Okay. It’s your choice. Sorry.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

§

Hanna awoke to her mother screaming.

She lept out of bed and rushed into her mother’s room.

“Mom! Mom! Are you okay? What’s... wrong?”

Hanna immediately saw.

The Wand was floating horizontally above her mother’s bed and glowing white with the brightness of being covered in Christmas lights.

Mrs. McCreadle was laying down, with squinted eyes, rubbing her forehead.

“Mother?”

“Oh, Hanna. I hit my head on this darn thing!” Mrs. McCreadle grabbed The Wand and the second she did, all the light it was emitting, stopped.

“Mother. Your face!”

Mrs. McCreadle popped up in bed, faster than her old bones typically moved, and looked in the mirror. She still looked 20 years younger.

Hanna still looked radiant as well.

Rushing to the window, Mrs. McCreadle looked into her backyard.

The salon was still there.

“Everything is still here. It is permanent.” Mrs. McCreadle laughed.

Hanna rushed to her mom and embraced her, joining in the laughter. The full implications sunk in and they reveled in their good fortunes. Perhaps, thought Mrs. McCreadle, she should embrace aging with more grace and dignity. Perhaps she was reveling in something shallow and petty. But then, she thought about how good those ladies in the neighborhood felt when they left her salon. And in those thoughts, she realized it wasn’t about shallow or petty values, rather, it was about bringing some joy into their lives. When she looked at it that way, it didn’t seem so bad after all.

Glancing at The Wand, Mrs. McCreadle said, “Sunrise. I have to pass it on now.”

“What? Right now? Sun is just up, mom.”

“I know. But I know that’s why it woke me up. Three days. Time is up. I have to pass it on.”

Mrs. McCreadle started to put on her slippers.

“Mom, it’s five-thirty in the morning!”

“I know, dear. But it’s just like the dream. I know what I have to do now. I understand.”

“What dream? What dream? What do you have to do?”

Mrs. McCreadle kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Sweetheart, it’s a magical wand. The rules say three days you can keep it, then you must pass it along. Sunrise is the new day. So, I must pass it along. If I don’t, it’s just going to keep floating over my bed until I do.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can’t explain how I know. I just do. Trust me, sweetie.”

“Where are you going?” Hanna asked.

“Just like I planned. I’ll drive it over to the fire department.”

“Well, I’m coming with you.”

“No, dear. You stay here. Go back to bed. Later you can call back Willma Andretch for me and let her know I can see her anytime. Fix us some breakfast for when I get back. I think I’m going to have a busy day at my salon.”

Chapter Two

Fireman Frank Thomas typically woke up before everyone else at the firehouse. He always loved going for an early morning run at the local park, a block away from the firestation.

As he opened the side door to the firehouse, The Wand tumbled to the ground. It had been propped against the door and rattled hollow on the asphalt as it rolled.

“Ward. Your friends.” Frank mumbled.

Ward Kimball was one of the other firefighters. He was brilliant but geeky. Ward would often have Advanced Dungeons & Dragons gaming sessions at the firestation and his friends would always forget dice or character sheets or cloaks or something weird that would be left laying around the station someplace. Once there was a full metal kite shield in the bathroom. Looks like this time, one of them forgot a staff.

Frank took The Wand and placed it by Ward’s locker.

He hadn’t even noticed the brass plate of rules.

§

After he had completed two-thirds of his run, The Beachgirl Bodyrock fitness team arrived in their van at the park that morning.

“Morning, Frank.” Julia Riseborough, the head coach, waved at Frank.

“Morning, ladies.”

Frank didn’t finish his run.

He returned to the firehouse much later than he had intended.

§

“Where were you, buddy?” Ollie Johnston asked. He was another firefighter and Frank’s best friend.

“Out doing my run.”

“You’re supposed to be working on breakfast. Your turn today.”

“Right! Sorry.” The last thing Frank was thinking about was kitchen duties. By the time he got back, all Frank was thinking about was Julia Riseborough’s phone number in his pocket.

He had certainly forgotten all about The Wand.

The moment he walked in kitchen, he saw Ward.

“Hey, Ward. You get that staff?”

“What?”

“The staff. I left it by your locker. One of your friends forget it? I found it outside by the door this morning.”

Ward looked puzzled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What did you leave by my locker?”

“Just go look. It’s a staff. Like a wood staff. Looks like something a wizard would carry around. Figured it belonged to one of your gaming buddies.”

Frank and Ollie chuckled after Ward left the room.

All the guys thought he was a pretty big geek, but they were respectful enough to never mock him too severely behind his back and they were always polite to his face.

§

“I’ve never seen this before.” Ward was carrying The Wand back into the kitchen as he handed it back to Frank.

“It’s yours now, Frank.” Ward said.

Absently taking hold of The Wand, Frank said, “Mine? Heck, I don’t want it. Why don’t you give it to one of your gamer buddies?”

By this time, most of the other six men in the firestation were awake and gathering around in the kitchen.

Frank told everyone the story about finding The Wand outside the door as he was jostling to work on breakfast. The other men agreed with Frank and joked about the likely gaming-geek origins of The Wand as they chatted and drank coffee while watching the morning news.

Ward asked Frank, “Did you see the placard?”

Frank noticed it now. “Placard? This placard? What of it?” Frank rotated The Wand around and took hold of the worn brass.

Ward read it, “You may use the magic wand for 3 days. You may only use it in your profession. You must secretly bequeath it to an anonymous stranger.”

“Too bad it won’t help me make breakfast.” Frank joked.

The moment he finished the sentence, green leaves sprouted from the top of The Wand and light like sun through a canopy of oaks dazzled the entire kitchen in a kaleidoscope of endless shades of cool grass.

Frank shouted, “Whoa!”

Ward rushed for the nearest fire extinguisher.

Ollie gasped.

Plates and glasses flew from cabinets and set themselves at the table. The refrigerator slammed open and quarts of milk and orange juice splattered through the air and every drop landed perfectly in glass pitchers. Serving trays of eggs and French toast and pancakes and bacon and sausages swirled onto the dining table. Within seconds the entire kitchen smelled of syrup and toast and gourmet jams.

“What in the hell!?” Les Clark, captain of the station nearly fell out of his chair.

Marc Davis and Eric Larson, two of the engine drivers, did fall out of their chairs.

John Louns stood there with his mouth agape.

Wolfgang Reitherman rubbed his eyes.

Milt Kahl was the only gentleman who had missed the whole thing. As he came into the kitchen from the lavatory, he asked, “Why is everybody so quiet? Wow. That breakfast looks amazing! Frank, you do all this yourself? Why haven’t you boys dug in yet?”

Milt walked to the table, ready to serve himself.

“Hold on, Milt. Don’t eat that.” Captain Clark ordered. He didn’t look at Milt when he said it. He started right at The Wand the whole time.

“Why not?” Milt asked, confused.

“That’s an order Kahl.”

“Yes, sir.” Milt set the plate back down, frowning.

Frank dropped The Wand on the floor. Trembling, he pulled back his hands, his body language showing he wanted nothing to do with it.

“May I?” Captain Clark asked as he motioned to The Wand.

Frank nodded.

Captain Clark grabbed The Wand and held it toward the table.

“More pancakes.”

Nothing happened.

He tried again. “Orange juice.”

The room was dead silent.

Milt looked at everyone like they were crazy and started to chuckle. “Okay, what’s going on? You guys pulling some kind of weird prank on me? Captain Wizard?”

No one said a word. Not even the Captain.

Handing The Wand back to Frank, Captain Clark said, “You try.”

“Oh, no.” Frank replied. “I’m not touching that thing again.”

Captain Clark grabbed the placard and read, “You must secretly bequeath it to an anonymous stranger. Looks like you’re the stranger. You found it. Looks like it was bequeathed to you. Try again.”

Something about the way Captain Clark said it was reassuring. He didn’t seem to have any fear of The Wand. He sounded like a little boy who had hoped to find this kind of thing all his life.

Frank may have been scared, but he was honestly a bit excited too.

Taking hold of The Wand, he said, “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

Frank decided to try the same thing the Captain just had, “Orange juice.”

The Wand sparkled green. The pitcher of orange juice spun on the table at a blinding speed and split apart in a green light and two more pitchers of orange juice suddenly appeared beside it. Three pitchers now sat on the table. Not a drop had been spilled.

The firefighters scattered.

“Whoa!”

“No way!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“What the hell is going on!?”

His fear gone, Frank pointed The Wand to the trucks in the garage.

“Wait! No, no, Frank!” Ollie said.

Frank simply said one word. “Clean.”

In a single flash of green, the trucks were suddenly spotless. Not only were they cleaned and waxed, but every millimeter was sterile enough to pass a white glove test. They were more immaculate than when they had come off the assembly line. Even the wheelwells and tiretreads exceeded the hygiene of surgical instruments. Every nook and cranny of the undercarriage was shining. Oxidized metals were polished to chrome brilliance. Although the men had no way of knowing it, depths of the engine that would be impossible to reach unless disassembling the entire motor were instantly gleaming.

The men walked over to the trucks and admired the work in awe. Not one ding. Not one speck. The trucks didn’t merely “look like new”, they looked like museum pieces.

Milt frowned again. “Wow. Magic wand. Cool.”

Looking back at the food, Milt asked, “Captain! Can I eat this now?”

Captain Clark nodded. “Sure. Y - Yeah, Milt. Go ahead.”

“Alright!” Milt grabbed his plate and started to load up.

The other men didn’t know what was more astonishing: What they had just seen with The Wand or the fact that Milt acted like he sees it every week?

§

“This is amazing.” Eric ran his hands over the fireengine tire.

“Unbelievable.” John Louns said.

Marc looked at Frank. “What else can we do with this thing?”

“What about the barbeque? Tonight at Louns house? We can use it to get some supplies. Make the food!” Wolfgang suggested.

“It won’t work, guys.” Ward said.

“What do you mean it won’t work?” Ollie wondered.

“The rules on the placard are very specific. Says it has to be used in your profession.”

“So?”

“So, food at the firehouse is part of our profession. At someone’s private barbeque at their house, it won’t work.” Ward repeated.

The other men seemed to think it over and begrudgingly agree.

“It might.” Wolfgang observed.

“We can try it.” Milt said, chomping on some bacon.

“Why not make the food here then? Just take it to the barbecue.” Frank suggested.

The Captain snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Try it, Frank.”

Frank pointed The Wand toward the kitchen.

“Barbecue!”

Nothing happened.

“Ribs! Barbecue sauce!”

Nothing happened.

The men did notice that they should probably grab some of the amazing breakfast instead of staring at the trucks all day. Since Milt hadn’t dropped dead from eating magically conjured food, they figured it was probably safe to grab a bite.

“I guess Ward was right. The barbecue thing doesn’t work.”

“You think?” Ward said.

Frank frowned at The Wand, disappointed that it wasn’t able to summon some barbeque food.

He got a different idea instead.

He pointed it towards the lockers.

“Clean uniforms!”

Light blazed from The Wand, snaked around the floor, burst into the lockers and flung open the doors.

Every firesuit, every boot, every hat was spotless. Just as clean as the trucks, their uniforms looked as if they had never been worn in a single fire. Every speck of dirt, every singed thread, every smoke stain - gone.

Biting his lip, the Captain spoke up.

“Gentlemen! Gather around.”

The men stepped away from breakfast and admiring the wonderment of The Wand. Captain Clark said, “Okay, now listen up, boys. Frank, I want you to be careful with this thing. Clearly, this staff has been entrusted to you and you alone. I may be your Captain, but I’m not your daddy and I can’t tell you what to do with it. However, it does specify that you can only use it in your profession and since you are a firefighter under my command, what you do with the staff reflects upon this entire station. Therefore, I am ordering all of you that we keep this thing a secret. If anyone finds out about this, you know what will happen. Most people will say we’re crazy. And those will be the people we need to worry about the least! Anyone who believes this is real will be even more dangerous. Some of those people will worship this as a miracle. Others will curse it as evil. Government agents will want to interrogate us. Now, I don’t know about any of you, but I don’t want my life to take that kind of turn. Do you?”

The other men nodded their heads in agreement and mumbled.

“No.”

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, the Captain is right.”

“That’s true.”

“Yeah, he’s absolutely right.”

The Captain continued, “Okay. So, we’re agreed. We keep this between us. For the safety of everyone in this room, knowledge of this staff doesn’t leave this firehouse. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Understood.”

“Aye, sir.”

The breakfast was the most delicious any of them have ever had. Milt kept on saying it was the best French toast he had ever eaten. This was all the more amazing because Milt had taken a vacation with his wife in France last summer, and wouldn’t shut up for a week about how great the French toast was. He said the food from The Wand made what he ate in Paris taste like a frozen waffle.

§

Later that afternoon, Frank, Mark and Ward headed out to the store to get some barbeque supplies for that evening. Ollie spotted a bank and the idea hit him immediately.

“Salaries.” Mark whispered.

“What?” Frank asked.

Mark spoke louder, “Salaries, Frank! That’s work related. What if we go to the ATM and add a little to our salaries!”

“We can’t do that!” Ward said as the voice of consciousness.

Frank asked, “Why not?”

Ward explained, “You mean other than being illegal and unethical? Well, how much do you intend to add to our salaries? There’s not much point in giving ourselves an extra $100. And if we put $100,000 in our accounts, someone will start asking some very uncomfortable questions.”

“True. Well, I guess an extra $1000 won’t hurt.”

“You remember what the Captain just told us. We need to be careful.” Ward noted.

“And we are being careful.” Frank acknowledged. “$100,000 is being stupid. $1000 is being careful. We’ll just put in enough that no one will pay attention.”

Frank had brought The Wand along. When the guys asked him why he was bringing it, Frank said, “Look, when a magic wand appears on your doorstep, I don’t think it’s a good idea to ever leave it out of your sight. Besides, I only get to keep it for three days. Right? Not like I have to carry it around forever. I’ll just make due.”

§

The bank had two teller machines. One was on the sidewalk of a busy main street, the other was around the corner, in a quiet parking lot. Obviously, they opted for the lot.

Frank approached the ATM casually. At least, as casual as a fireman can look while carrying a giant wizard staff.

The other two men stood near the ATM, glancing over their shoulders.

Frank chided them, whispering, “Seriously? You’re going to stand guard? Why don’t you just get some trenchcoasts and black sunglasses? Can you make yourselves look more suspicious?”

“Sorry.” Ollie said, shuffling and staring his feet.

“Sorry.” Ward apologized and suggested, “We’ll stand by the truck. Don’t forget the camera. The machine takes pictures of everyone, you know. Stand, kind of, off to the side and - ”

“ - Yes, of course, I know there’s a camera. Everyone knows that.” Frank whispered.

Mark asked, “Why are you whispering? The camera doesn’t record sound and there’s no one within 100 feet of us.”

Speaking in a normal voice, Frank said, “Just get back to the truck! Stop staring. Act normal. We’re firemen, not secret agents.”

The men left Frank alone.

Suddenly, Frank felt really guilty for this whole thing. After all, he was a firefighter. He’s supposed to be an upstanding citizen with morals. He has this amazing gift of magic and what is he using it for? Bank fraud? But, he decided he’d just give it a try, now that he’d come this far. This wasn’t really about the money. At this point, his curiosity had gotten the best of him. He just wanted to find out if it would work or not. Besides, it’s not like he’s stealing anything. He’s not physically removing money from the possession of anyone else. He’s just creating some for himself.

This wasn’t theft.

He told himself it was a “supernatural counterfeiting experiment”.

§

Mark had turned away from the ATM and was lost in a text conversation on his phone. Ward had gone into the bank to use the bathroom.

As the men looked over at Frank, he was walking back to the truck with an angry grimace and a black eye. The Wand was limp by his side.

“Dude! What the hell happened to you?”

“Let’s just go to the store!” Frank snapped as he climbed in the truck.

“But did it work?”

Frank chuckled in exasperation. “No. No, it didn’t work, genius. Ward was right again. Happy? I couldn’t add a dime to our accounts. Then when the old lady came around the corner, she got startled. Stupid woman thought I was going to attack her with The Wand, so she hit it with her purse, and the top of The Wand flew back and cracked me in the eye.”

“What?” Mark said, a snicker bursting from his nostrils and he tried holding his lips together.

“Seriously? You got a black eye from an old lady?” Ward teased.

“Just drive, Mark!”

Frank fumed in the back seat while Ward and Mark laughed the whole way to the supermarket.

§

None of the men made it to the barbeque that night.

Half an hour before they planned to start the grill, the alarm rang in.

As the men leaped up from card games and television shows and out of showers, Frank stopped everyone, “Hold on!”

“Hold on? Are you -”

“Suit up!” Frank pointed The Wand at the lockers. Within 10 seconds, uniforms and boots and hats were on every man in the station. It happened so quickly, no one was sure if the clothing flew onto their bodies or simply teleported onto them.

Excited by the magic, the men ran to the trucks.

“Don’t slow down.” Frank said. “I’ll take care of the traffic.”

“I can’t approve of that, Frank.” Captain Clark said.

“Trust me, Captain.”

The Captain shook his head. “No. Remember the light? We can’t have green flames shooting out of the firetruck as we drive down the road. People are going to shoot video of that with their cellphones and post it on the Internet. How are we going to explain that?”

Frank knew he was right.

Could he just ask The Wand to emit no light?

Holding up The Wand, Frank pointed at dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. “No light. Dishes.”

Dishes fumbled and swept through soapy water in the sink as invisible hands rinsed and dried everything within a few seconds.

The Wand never emitted a drop of light.

Frank shrugged and his pursed lips asked, Well?

The Captain looked at The Wand and sighed. “Fine.”

As they flew down the street, Frank used The Wand to make sure every single traffic light was green in their favor. They drove at 50MPH and never slowed down once. Despite their unsafe speeds, every stray car and bicyclist and oblivious skateboarder in headphones was instantly and safely diverted by The Wand. The glow of leaves never shone once.

§

A gargantuan fire at the historic university library had engulfed most of the building in flames by the time they had arrived. Two other stations were already on point.

Students and teachers were cordoned off by police as they cried and panicked, staring at the fire. Most students were on cellphones, reassuring families and friends they were safe. News crews were reporting live from the scene.

“East Wing!” A professor called from a gurney. He had suffered from smoke inhalation and was barely awake as the paramedics wheeled him to the nearest ambulance. “Students. Get - East Wing.”

Captain Clark and Frank both looked back at the truck.

The Wand was safe in the back seat.

Captain Clark nodded at Frank, “Go get it.”

“Ollie! I want you and Frank to take the East Wing of the building!” Captain Clark ordered over the roar of sirens and cinders. “Find the kids.”

Tucking The Wand under his arm, Frank ran towards the East Wing of the library.

“Frank?” Ollie called. “Hose?”

“Don’t need it!” Frank yelled back. “Come on. Hurry up!”

“No hose?” Ollie asked rhetorically.

As they got around the corner of the building, they approached the East Wing doors. This far side of the building had less spectators and the fires weren’t burning as high.

Getting around the inside of the doorway, Frank looked at Ollie.

“Ready?”

“Ready? Ready for what? What are you planning to do?”

“Let’s see what this thing can really do.”

Ollie peeked back out the doorway, to make sure no one was coming near the building. “Okay, Frank. All clear. It’s now or - ”

The sound of roaring fire was instantly replaced by the sizzle of smoldering ash. “ - never?”

This time, Frank didn’t even speak any words. He merely pointed The Wand towards the fire within the building. Every flame was instantly extinguished. The entire building was saved in a millisecond.

Firefighters continued to douse the building with water, so stunned at the vanished fire, they nearly dropped their firehoses.

The crowd gasped in shock.

Confused murmurs rippled through the people.

Then, a moment later, cheers erupted. Laughter and tears of joy. Looks of complete bewilderment, yet gratitude, swept over all their faces, young and old alike. News reporters broadcasting live were thrilled. The news crews who were recording delayed feeds were thrown into a frenzy. Police, firefighters and civilians all looked equally baffled by how the fire ended so fast.

Frank knew exactly how, and he looked more stunned than anyone.

Frank called to Ollie, “Come on!”

They ran inside, frantically searching corridors for the students trapped. Eventually, they heard a loud metallic banging coming from down a stairwell. People caught in the basement were pounding on a firedoor, shouting for help.

Within 5 more minutes, everyone who had been trapped was on their way to the hospital.

Not one casualty.

Frank shuddered. The basement hallways were completely charred. There was no other way to reach them. Without using The Wand, at least 14 people would have been killed in that blaze.

The men of Fire Station #115 celebrated long into the night that evening, as The Wand sat in the corner like a trophy, the candelabra of all their joy.

§

The next dawn was thick with morning mist and the kind of silence that makes a neighborhood cling to slumber. Before sparrowsong tingles the day, the sort of morning when even a big city is silent but for the cooing of doves.

Frank thought he was the first person awake in the firehouse, but Ward and Captain Clark were already up. They had paperwork scattered all over the kitchen table and were chuckling and murmuring in quiet but mirthful conversation.

Ward spotted Frank and nodded the Captain toward him.

Turning in his chair, Captain Clark said, “Frank! Good morning.”

“Morning, Captain.”

“Pull up a seat. Ward has something to show you.”

“Okay.” Frank complied, as he grabbed a bagel.

Ward grinned and shoved some of the paperwork in front of Frank. “I was thinking we might use The Wand to create these.”

“Firesuits.” Captain Clark explained.

“Yeah, but not just any firesuits. These are my engineering fantasy suits. The ones I would design if money and technology were no object.”

Frank looked over the images. He wasn’t an engineer, so he didn’t understand everything in the blueprints, but clearly Ward did. Every bolt, every joint, every servo was all laid out in exquisite detail. Even the schematics for electronics and the composition of motherboards was planned down to the last circuit.

Ward explained, “They are fire suppression suits using titanium/rhenium alloy exoskeletons and halon/atmospheric-nitrogen-draw - or (eHAND) - systems plus pure-rhenium flying quadcopter with char-proof camera glass and a surveillance truck.”

Frank had absolutely no idea what any of that meant.

He wasn’t sure he’d have understood it at 2 in the afternoon. He sure didn’t have the mental capacity to grasp it at 6am.

“What? Slow down. Say that again.”

Ward repeated it. Frank still didn’t get it.

“What the hell is a rhenium quadcopter?” Frank asked.

“Oh! Well, in addition to the suits, there are remote controlled quadcopters which are operated from this special surveillance truck.”

“That way, some can scout ahead into a burning structure and we don’t have to send men down deadends.” The Captain explained.

Frank slowly nodded, taking it all in. “And the suits. Titanium whats?”

“Titanium and rhenium alloy. Rhenium is one of the rarest metals on Earth. It’s so rare it costs over $150 an ounce and only 3% of it is used to make alloys in jet turbines. I designed these quadcopter out of 100% pure rhenium. The suits are an alloy. What’s the average temperature generated in a building or chaparral fire?”

The information was so ingrained in him from firefighter training, Frank rattled off the numbers without even thinking about them. “About 2000 to 3000 degrees Fahrenheit, at most.”

“Precisely. And it turns out that rhenium also has one of the highest melting points of any known metal and can withstand temperatures up to 10,000 degrees. In other words - ”

“ - We can send it into the hottest fires and it won’t be destroyed.”

“Exactly.” Ward said.

“These things will be totally indestructible?” Captain Clark asked.

“Pretty much. Not unless a building collapses on them. We can use them in any fire we ever encounter.”

“And what was that hand thing you mentioned?”

“Hand? Oh! eHAND - it’s short for exoskeleton halon/atmospheric-nitrogen-draw. It actually draws nitrogen from the atmosphere to use as a fire extinguisher. Since the atmosphere is 80% nitrogen, we’ll never run out! We can walk into burning structures and don’t have to take the hose. Units on the forearms can fire the gas mix right onto the blaze and put it out.”

“Pretty impressive.” Frank said. “But, how do you know these things will work?”

Ward smiled, “That’s the beauty of it. Don’t you think if we create these with The Wand, they’ll have to work? Years of research and development can be avoided. All the little bugs and problems and mistakes can be eliminated right from the start. I mean, yeah, if we built these things by hand, they won’t work. They’d need years of trial and error and tweaking. But if we use the magic of The Wand - ”

“ - They should be perfect right away.”

“Exactly.” The Captain said.

“So what do you think?” Ward asked.

“I think it’s fantastic. Plus, those suits make us all look like superheros.”

The men all laughed.

Captain Clark quieted them down and said, “Now, fellas, these are great. But, Frank, I suggest we create these for everyone.”

“Well, of course. The whole station would - ”

“ - No, I don’t mean just for our men. What I mean is, not just for our firehouse. Think about it. Remember what I said about drawing attention to The Wand? If this kind of advanced equipment suddenly appears in no other firehouse but ours - ”

“ - Right. I gotcha, Chief. People are going to ask a lot of questions. But, if they have an entire city full of firehouses to question - ”

“ - You got it.”

“Takes the suspicion off of us. But what about me?” Ward asks.

“What about you?”

“Well, these are all my designs. Once people figure out I’m the one who invented this stuff, they’ll start asking - ”

“ - How many people have you shown these to?”

“I showed them to our Battalion Chief.”

“Walt Elias? Anyone other than him?”

“No. I was going to patent some designs, but never got around to it.”

Frank spoke up. “Don’t do that. Not yet, anyway. If I may make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“Sooner or later, this equipment is going to break down. When that happens, there won’t be any replacement parts, since there’s no such thing as a company who manufactures this stuff. My suggestion? Quit your day job.”

“Excuse me?”

“Quit your day job. Stop being a firefighter. Go into the business of manufacturing this stuff. Don’t claim you invented it. Claim you reverse-engineered it. When the time comes to make repairs or create new gear, you’re going to become a very wealthy man.”

Ward thought about it. He was naturally excited, but didn’t want to count too many proverbial chickens yet. “Well, we don’t even know if this Wand thing will be able to pull this off. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s see if The Wand can even create the stuff first.”

§

The decision was to build the eHAND system underground, so as to not alter the outside appearance of any firehouses. But first, they had to test if creating it would work at their own station.

Walking to the corner of the firehouse, the plan was to install a stairwell and a hydraulic lift to a basement-level garage.

The three men didn’t say a word, but they smiled at each other like children who had just found hidden birthday presents.

Frank pointed The Wand at the floor.

The men blinked, and everything was suddenly in the room. The stairwell. The lift. All of it.

The men were all startled.

Despite all the astounding things they had witnessed, they were not prepared for this latest magic from The Wand.

No sparks flew with the green leaves. No fanfare. No swirling mists to conjure the changes. No rush of wind. No shine of light. Not even a sound to accompany the miracle. Nothing.

One moment the things weren’t there.

The next instant they were.

As if they had existed all along.

The men all looked at one another and murmured a bit. Each was as stunned as the other - mystified that everything had quite literally appeared in the time between blinks of an eye.

Slowly, they made their way down the staircase.

Everything was in place.

Just as they had dreamed it.

Better even.

The eHAND facility looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Everything was steel and glass and built on terraced levels. There were things far beyond what Ward had designed in his blueprints.

There was some sort of map system on giant projection touchscreens which were wired into all police and fire alert bands, monitoring the entire city. Energy monitoring systems indicated the entire facility was off-grid and using roof-mounted solar cells to power the entire bunker. They had nine alcoves, containing the nine suits, each one already labeled with the fireman’s name - Clark, Davis, Thomas, Johnston, Kahl, Larson, Kimball, Lounsberry, and Reitherman.

Parked upon the lift was the surveillance truck, only it was far more massive than any of the schematics had imagined. Ward intended for the surveillance truck to me little more than an oversized van, but what towered before them was more like a Ford F650 EarthRoamer. The surveillance truck even had an eHAND logo painted on it, along with a beautiful fireengine red paintscheme and the Station #115 prominently displayed on the side.

Inside the truck was another incredibly advanced control center. It appeared to be running constantly, using solar panels on the roof of the truck which were further integrated into a electrostatic induction system and wirelessly powered off the internal grid when parked. There were a dozen quadcopters inside the truck which could launch out of hatches on the roof, the walls, the floor, or the rear of the vehicle. Video feeds captured visible light, thermal signatures, and X-ray frequencies while all signals were not only recorded to solid-state RAID arrays on the truck, but simultaneously satellite-fed back to the station.

“Wow,” was all Ward managed to say.

“Tutorials.” Captain Clark said.

“Excuse me, sir?” Frank asked.

Ever the practical man, Captain Clark explained, “Tutorials. We need to get on these computer systems and find some sort of instructions, tutorials, educational materials on how to use all this stuff.”

He may have been practical, but he was still grinning like a schoolboy.

“Yes, sir!” Frank said.

“No, Thomas,” the Captain answered. “Not you. Ward should work on the tutorials. Frank, you need to come with me and we’ll ride to the other firestations with The Wand.”

“But, sir. We can’t just show up and say, ‘Hey, I have a magic wand I want to use to upgrade your equipment. Do you mind?’”

“No. You’re right. I’m hoping we can do it from outside the stations.”

“Why not just try it from here?” Ward asked.

“From here?” Frank wondered.

Ward nodded. “Sure. It’s magic, after all. Who knows what kind of range it has? Maybe it could change the whole city right from this spot.”

The Captain thought it over. “Okay. Good point. Here’s the new plan. We try to change all the stations from here. Then, we drive over to Station #97 and see if it worked. If it worked, great. If not, we try it from outside Station #97 while we’re in the truck.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Frank wondered.

“If that doesn’t work, we abort the mission. We can’t enter each station and do it from inside. Too suspicious. They might figure out we had something to do with it. Assuming it does work, we’ll then go to the other stations one at a time.”

Frank replied, “Sir, with respect, I doubt they’ll figure out it was us, even if we do show up at every station. ‘Hey, I bet that staff Frank Thomas had with him was really a magic wand!’ No one is going to say that.”

“You’re right, Frank. I’m just being cautious. Let’s just see what happens. Hopefully, we won’t need to resort to that anyway.”

Frank and Ward both nodded. “Excellent, sir.”

“Sounds good, sir. But, what sort of excuse do we use to drop by Station #97 for 2 minutes?”

The Captain shrugged. “We just tell the truth. We ask if anything weird happened to their garage. They’ll either look at us like we’re crazy or they’ll have the hydraulic floor in place. If it’s not there when we arrive, it will be after we leave. So, we won’t seem so strange after all.”

Ward nodded, “Good thinking, Captain.”

“Great. Ward, get to work on those instructions. Frank, do your thing. I’m going to wake up the men and let them know what’s going on. Then, we’re off to Station #97.”

§

Captain Wells of Station #97 frowned. “Weird? No. I can’t say anything weird has happened at the station lately. Can you be more specific?”

Their question was answered. Attempting to use The Wand from inside Station #115 to add an eHAND system to every firestation in the city didn’t work. Apparently, they had to be closer.

“Well,” Captain Clark explained, “this is going to sound crazy, but there was a whole new room in our firehouse this morning.”

“A new room? What do you mean?” Captain Wells asked.

“Oh, you know, it’s not important. We just were wondering if you had any - ”

“ - Waterleaks.” Frank said. “Ruined the whole office room.”

“Yeah. Your station is the same kind of layout as ours, so we thought your room might have issues.”

“Oh, I thought you said a new room.” Captain Wells replied.

“No. No. Ruin. Ruined room. Not new.” Frank said.

“Yeah, ruined room.”

“No. Nothing ruined here. Sorry to hear about the leaks.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Well, we need to get going. Running some errands. Just thought we’d check in with you as we were passing by.”

“Sure thing. No problem. Good seeing you!” Captain Wells said.

“You too!”

“Take care now.”

As Frank and his Captain walked through Station #97 to leave, Frank whispered to The Wand and the eHAND stairwell appeared in the corner and the hydraulic lift materialized under the fireengines in the garage.

No one at Station #97 even noticed the changes until Frank and Captain Clark were a mile away.

One of the rookie firefighters spotted the stairwell first.

“Captain Wells!” The rookie shouted. “You need to come see this!”

§

As Frank and Captain Clark drove up towards Station #60, Frank pointed The Wand toward the building. Located on a corner, they waited to make a left turn in front of the station.

The garage was open.

“Can you see inside?” Frank asked, leaning over the seat.

The Captain craned his head, “I think so.” He grinned triumphantly. “Yeah, I think so! I think it worked!”

The light changed and they turned in front of the station. Driving slowly, so they could peek in the doors, they peered into the garage.

Sure enough, a hydraulic lift was in the floor and a new stairwell was in the floor, just behind the trucks.

“All right!”

The men gave each other high fives.

“It worked!”

“Yes! It worked!”

“Okay, so that means we just need to be close to the stations! We’ll start driving around the city and go past every one.” The Captain said.

“Awesome!”

By the end of the day, every firefighter in the city was baffled by the mysterious new addition of advanced eHAND systems in every garage. The top news story on every channel that night - where did these things come from?

§

“The last day with The Wand. What do you want to try?” Ollie asked Frank over breakfast.

A few of the other men were awake and just as eager to hear the answer.

“Yeah, Frank. What will you do?” Marc asked.

“Yeah. One more day. What will it be?” Louns wondered.

“I was actually up late last night, thinking about it.”

“And?” Ollie said.

“I want to go to all the hospitals. Every burn unit. See if The Wand can heal them.”

Ollie was skeptical. “That’s a beautiful idea, Frank. But, well - ”

“ - No, no. It’s okay. I know. I know what you’re going to say already. That’s not really our profession. We’re not doctors.”

“No, actually, I was going to say - well, wait. You’re right. That’s a problem too. What makes you think you can heal people with it?”

“Look,” Frank said with a tone that was more gentle than defensive, “The Wand says it can only be used in my profession. But, I was thinking, those burn victims, that is our profession. If we could have been there, if we could have saved these people in time, they’d be okay. I just feel like I have to try it.”

Ollie patted Franks shoulder. “Frank, that’s a great idea.”

Truth be told, Ollie had no idea if it would work or not, but Frank was right - he had to try.

“So, what were you going to ask?” Frank wondered.

“Huh?”

“Your original question, before I interrupted you?”

“Oh, that!” Ollie took a sip of orange juice. “I was going to ask about taking The Wand to the hospitals. How do we explain you walking around the hospital carrying a big old wizard staff?”

“Let me think.” Frank sat down for a good 5 minutes.

Everytime someone tried to make a suggestion, he would shush them up and say, “Hold on. Just let me think.”

Finally, Frank stood up and said, “I’ve got it.” He started limping around the room, using the staff for support. “It’s not a staff. It’s a walking stick. Hurt my foot on duty. Broke my cane. This was stashed away in a closet from a costume party at the firestation. Just using it until I grab a new cane tomorrow.”

“That should work, buddy.”

“First stop is the toystore.” Frank said.

“Toystore?”

“Delivering some stuffed animals to the kids. That will be the excuse for why we show up. By the time everyone is healed, they’ll forget all about the toys. We can reuse them at every hospital.”

§

Sally MacNamara was only 4 years old when the old gas grill caught fire in the camper. Her daddy saved her and broke through the back window to get her out. But, not before half of her bed had gone up in flames.

Like most little girls, Sally used to like playing with dolls. But ever since the accident, she knew she’d never be pretty like those dolls again. She never wanted to play with them anymore.

She was worried that kids at preschool would make fun of her, because she didn’t have all of her fingers anymore. They’d call her names for sure. Most of all, Sally was scared to see her own face in the mirror. Everytime she looked, a monster was staring back at her. A monster with half a face like hers and half a face burned like chunks of broken asphalt on her playground. She never wanted to see that monster again.

Sally was the first burn unit patient Frank met with The Wand.

“Sally. You have a visitor.” Her nurse announced.

Sally was shyly hid her face away.

Frank closed his eyes and prayed The Wand would work.

“Don’t you want a visitor? He has a present for you.” The nurse announced.

As the nurse walked around to the front of Sally, she gasped and fell to her knees. “Oh, my God!”

Her eyes swollen to the size of golfballs, she looked at Frank, then back to Sally. Putting her hand over her mouth, the nurse started to cry.

“Sally? You’re okay!” The nurse pulled up the sleeve of Sally’s gown, showing Sally her mangled arm was no longer mangled. Her missing fingers were all back too.

Sally squealed with joy when she looked at her arm.

She wiggled her fingers and they all worked perfectly.

She touched her face and the skin was smooth and tender.

Turning around, Sally looked at Frank. Even though she looked directly at him, in her state of excitement, she didn’t see him. Running over to the bathroom, Sally stared in the mirror. She immediately started screaming and jumping up and down. Her nurse rushed to her side and hugged her.

In that moment, Frank thought Sally had to be the most beautiful little girl in the whole wide world.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Frank slumped in the doorframe.

It had worked.

He slowly moved away from the doorway and walked down the hall. As he made his way past the rooms of other patients, one by one, more shouts and screams of joy began to burst out of each door. Patients fled their rooms like some old movie depicting a riot in jail, where cells would fly open, releasing the convicts into the world. Only this time, the prisoners were trapped by anguish and disfigurement. As they were each released of these horrible bonds, they found themselves elated beyond imagining. Where there had been only pain and horror and despair, Frank and The Wand brought joy and healing and peace.

§

“Frank? You’re not going to believe this. The eHAND database systems actually have,” Ward chuckled over the radio, “well, something that is kind of totally illegal for us to have. Um, Frank, we have hospital records of every single burn victim in the city, going back 40 years. I can’t explain how we have this information, but it’s in here. I can actually send all the map and address data directly to you in the truck.”

“What?” Frank laughed with the smile of a child getting his first puppy. “Are you serious?”

“Uploaded now. Go check the screens.”

Frank clamored out of the passenger seat to the rear of the eHAND surveillance truck and saw it.

Sure enough, Ward was right. Countless pinpoints on the city map, all mixed with routing data to plot the most efficient course from their current location, to pass in front of the most possible homes and apartments. Frank immediately forwarded the data to the front windshield heads-up-display as he and Marc set out to travel the city.

Marc snickered, “Damn, this truck is amazing. I’m not going to want to drive any of the engines anymore!”

They were actually on their way back to the station. They had already visited the burn units of every hospital in the city and healed every single man, woman and child. Limbs regrew. Scars vanished. Every injury and disfigurement was wiped away.

Knowing that they only needed to park outside each house or apartment, now they could heal people who were back home. Sunset was approaching as they began their mission and they spent a majority of the evening driving around the city.

The 11 o’clock news was filled with reports of miraculous healing all over the city, in every hospital.

When they finally got home, it was a couple of hours after midnight. Much to their surprise, all the men were still awake. The entire station gave Marc and Frank a standing ovation.

Deep inside, these men all became firefighters in order to make a difference. To help people. To protect people. To save people. To do some good in the world. That day, they were all a part of something that went far beyond their wildest dreams.

They didn’t just look like superheros.

They really were.

§

The blinding light from The Wand awoke Frank at sunrise.

“Wha?” Flicking up in bed, his forehead cracked into the wood.

“Ow! Jeezus!”

Since he had been up so late, he was even more disoriented than usual. He’d only slept about 3 hours at most. Massaging the welt and half blinded by the light, one arm covered his eyes while the other rubbed his face. Falling out of bed, all the other men began to wake up from the commotion.

“What the hell?”

“Fire?”

“Turn out the light, dude!”

Regaining his bearings, Frank finally realized it was The Wand. His heart racing, he grabbed for it blindly. The moment his hand touched The Wand, the light was immediately extinguished.

With the room again drenched in darkness, the men quickly simmered down and fell back to sleeping.

Frank rushed downstairs, back to his locker.

He threw The Wand inside and locked it. He went back to sleep.

The second he closed his eyes, a painful light blazed above his bed.

“Turn out the light!”

“Again!?”

“What are you doing!?”

“Owww!” Frank screamed, his vision blurred to red through closed eyelids. Reaching up again, his hand touched The Wand, hovering above the bed. The second he grabbed hold of it, the light went out.

“Frank, what are you doing?” Ollie yelled.

“It’s not me. It’s The Wand. It’s doing it all by itself.”

“Three days, Frank!” Ward yelled.

“What?”

“Three days! The rules. You have to get rid of it. Bequeath it to a stranger.”

Frank threw off the covers and marched back downstairs.

He stood in front of his locker again, holding The Wand like a schoolboy resenting the textbooks in his hand.

Sighing, he thought about what Ward just told him.

Confused and frustrated, just before he was about to toss it inside, he debated locking The Wand back up again, or following its instructions.

The directions won out.

“Fine.” Frank mumbled to himself.

Hopping in his car, he drove a few streets away.

§

He jumped out of the car, quickly glanced up and down the road to make sure no one was around, then nonchalantly tossed The Wand over some hedgerows, hearing it clank with the hollow sound of Lincoln Logs on the bricks of a front walkway.

Chapter Three

Erica Riley was running late for school again. Sucks that she still had two more years of this crap to go. Best to not think about it. “Coral Fang” by The Distillers was blasting from her headphones as she rushed out her door. Trying to adjust her backpack as she threw her skateboard onto the front walk, she began hurtling toward the sidewalk to catch her bus. As she rounded the bushes, like she had done a million times, her front trucks hit The Wand and she went flying.

Cussing as she fired across her yard, Erica landed on the treelawn.

A little bruised. A little road rash. Nothing she hadn’t felt slamming on her board a thousand times before. Of course, she usually didn’t have a big backback on all those other times. That hurt a bit more than usual.

“Damnit!”

Looking back at The Wand, she yelled at it, “Stupid stick!” She grabbed it and mumbled, “Would have done a primo kickflip darkslide ollie over you if I had seen you!”

There’s no such trick in skateboarding as the one Erica described - a “primo kickflip darkslide ollie” doesn’t exist. She was pointing out the fact that she would have done an impossible trick to avoid falling, if only she had known The Wand was there.

She threw The Wand across her lawn.

As it left her hand, green leaves of light sprouted from the top and a bolt of energy blasted from The Wand. The vibrations whacked through her torso so hard, it knocked Erica off her feet.

She hurtled backwards and landed in the grass.

Physically, she was completely unscathed.

Mentally, something had changed in her. The very fibers of her skin felt different.

She was no longer thinking about being late for school.

§

Erica was laughing, laying at the bottom of her empty backyard pool, completely exhausted and covered in sweat. She had been skating for the past 2 hours straight and needed to tell someone about this before she burst. As she headed back into the house to get something to drink, Erica pulled out her phone and texted her best friend Ashley.

§

ERICA: u need 2 come over

ASHLEY: where r u? i’ve been texting

ERICA: home

ASHLEY: y aren’t u in school?

ERICA: i need u 2 come over!

ASHLEY: why r u home? u ok?

ERICA: i’m fine. come over.

ASHLEY: 2nite? sure i can come

ERICA: no. now!

ASHLEY: now? i’m at school jackass. why r u home? sick?

ERICA: no.

ASHLEY: r u ok? what’s wrong?

ERICA: i’m fine! have 2 show u sumthng

§

Ashley groaned. She was walking between classes and had a little time to talk. She dialed Erica. “Ridiculous,” Ashley muttered under her breath.

Erica answered within two rings.

“Hey.” Erica said. “Get over here.”

“Erica! I told you, I’m already at school.”

“Aren’t you in class? How are you calling me?”

“Between classes. And why aren’t you here? How am I supposed to get to your house? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I told you I’m fine! I just need to see you right away. Take a bus.”

“A bus!? No. I’m not taking a bus. Why are you being such a freak? If you’re not hurt or in trouble, why can’t it wait until after school?”

“Because it can’t!”

“I can’t just skip school. Okay? My parents will freak out.”

“Ashley! Get over here!”

“I will!”

“Thank you!”

“Right after school!”

“Uuuugh, you jerk!”

“Hey, I’m sorry I care about my grades. Slacker.”

Tossing her hair in irritation, Erica grumbled. “Fine. Whatever. Trust me though, this is like only the most important phonecall I’ve probably ever made in my life. What I have to show you will blow your mind like you can’t believe.”

“Right. Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me what is going on! If it’s really so mind blowing - ”

Erica thought about it. Obviously, she couldn’t tell the truth. Ashley would never believe her. “I found a magic wand that has made me the world’s greatest skateboarder.”

Yeah.

Right.

Erica was ready to give up and just tell Ashley to come over after school. Looking at the kitchen countertop, Erica spotted an old lottery ticket from her dad and before she could reconsider, she found herself saying one of the dumbest lies she ever told, “ - Ashley, we won the lottery.”

Erica silently clenched her fists and drew in a hissed breath between her teeth. She immediately regretted saying that. Crap. Now what?

“What?”

Erica forced a smile. “We won the lottery! My family won the lottery!” Erica faked being excited. It was pretty easy to allow herself to be excited by The Wand and pretend the source of her excitement was something else.

“You did not.”

“Yes, we did!” Erica nodded, not realizing that Ashley couldn’t see it.

“Seriously!?”

“I swear.”

There was a slight pause. Ashley was clearly trying to read the tone in Erica’s voice. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes!” Erica said.

“Holy crap! You’re not messing with me?”

“No. I’m totally serious. Why do you think I didn’t want to say this on the phone!? Yes, I’m serious. You can’t tell anyone! Understand?”

Ashley squealed in a tone that made dolphins 100 miles away swim in circles. “Oh my gosh! How much!? Like the super lottery!?”

“Ashley! Shut! Up! I just told you not to tell anyone!” Erica gritted her teeth. “Screaming about it in the hallway isn’t exactly the way to keep a secret in high school!”

Ashley immediately gathered herself, whispering, “Right. Right. Sorry.” She moved around a corner, trying to have a bit more privacy. “So you still want me to come over now?”

“Yes!” Erica said. “I’ve been trying to tell you for 5 minutes to get over here!” Honestly, she was so irritated at that point, she was half wondering why she even called Ashley anymore.

She trusted Ashley though. Erica just wanted someone else to witness what was happening, so she wouldn’t think she was losing her mind.

“Wait. Can’t your mom pick me up?”

“She’s at work.” Erica said, not thinking. She caught herself right away. This lie was such a bad idea.

“At work? Why is she still working?”

Erica responded quickly. “Well, she had to quit. Um, I mean, she went in to quit. So did my dad. So, uh, they can’t get you. Just take a bus and get here. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be there in like 45 or 30 minutes. You better not be messing with me! If this is a practical joke or something - ”

“ - I assure you, it’s not a joke. I’m serious.” Erica stared at The Wand, realizing it really wasn’t a lie after all, and said, “I have most definitely hit the jackpot.”

§

Ashley squealed again as soon as Erica opened the door.

“Oh, my gosh! This is amazing! How much was it? How much? How much?” Ashley was jumping up and down.

Erica grinned. “Well, it’s pretty amazing. Let me show you something. Come here.”

Erica led Ashley back to the pool.

“Holy crap! Where in the world did this come from!? What happened to your miniramp? When did you get a freakin’ pool!? You buy this with the lottery money? How’d you have it installed so fast!? This wasn’t here yesterday!”

Without a word, Erica stood at the top of the deep end, dropped in from a one-armed handstand, rode down the transition on one hand, then did a 50-50 grind on the coping. As she came down in a revert, she flipped the board under her feet and came down one-footed into a primo grind on the opposite coping of the deck.

Ashley was speechless.

Erica grinned, “You see that?”

“That,” Ashley sighed. “Uh. That - That’s not possible.” Ashley said, sitting in a lawnchair, her hand groped as though she were about to pass out. She was staring at Erica as if all of this was a dream. “You won the lottery and you learned to skate like that?”

Erica smiled, “Good. I’m glad you saw it. Okay, now check this one out. Tell me what you think.”

Erica grabbed a second skateboard and threw it down the transition, so it rolled into the pool and flew straight up into the air on the opposite transition. Then, she dropped in normal, but as she rolled across the flatbottom, she did a kickflip into another handstand. Sailing up the opposite transition in a handstand, she blasted a 12 foot air, grabbed the second skateboard as it was falling, and did a 900 with both boards in her hands. Throwing the boards under her feet, she landed on both decks simultaneously, like a pair of skis.

Flying back up the transition, she landed on the deck.

“Holy crap!” Ashley said, shaking her head and jumping back to her feet. “How are you doing that!? That’s not even possible! I’ve never seen anything like that before! Never! No one can skate like that!”

“I’m doing it. So I guess it’s possible.” Erica laughed.

“That’s like, against the laws of physics, or something. I’ve never seen anyone skate like that. Not even close.”

Erica nodded. “Good. I’m just glad you’re seeing it too.”

“Of course I’m seeing it! No one can blast 12 foot airs off a pool and do a 900. Winning the lottery inspire you that much?”

Erica grimaced. She knew it was time to confess the truth. “I’m sorry, Ashley. I lied. We didn’t win the lottery. My parents are still at work. They’re not out quitting their jobs. The real reason I wanted you to come over was to see this.”

“You had me leave school to watch you skate a new pool? Where the heck did you get this pool if you didn’t win any money?”

“No, no. I didn’t ask you to leave school to watch me skate. Not exactly. I had you leave school to show you this.” Erica walked over to the edge of her patio and held up The Wand.

Ashley nodded. “Oh? What’s that? The magic wizard staff that made the pool and turned you into a crazy good skater?”

Now Erica was the one who looked astonished. “How did you know that!?”

“What? Erica, I was kidding.”

“Oh.” Erica relaxed. “Well, I’m not. This thing really is a magic wand that made me a great skater. I made the pool with it too!”

Ashley looked at Erica like she was an idiot. “Riiiight. You’ve gotta be kidding me. You think I’m stupid?”

“No, really!”

“Right. I’m going back to school. I can’t believe you made me leave school for this.”

“Wait! Just let me show you. Come on. You came all the way over here. Let me show you.”

“Show me what?”

Erica lead Ashley into her room. Her closet had fifty new boxes of skate shoes.

“Where did you buy all these sh - ”

“ - SHAZAM!”

Erica yelled and pointed The Wand into the other corner of her room. Twenty complete skateboards appeared in a flash of green.

Ashley didn’t say a word.

Her lips silently mimed a phrase her grandmother wouldn’t have approved of her saying. She looked at Erica and forgot to keep breathing.

Erica apologized. “I’m sorry. If I told you I had found a magic wand, you never would have come over. So, I’m sorry that I lied about winning the lottery.”

“Are you kidding? This is even better than winning the lottery! A real live magic wand!? Oh, my, gosh! You can just make all the money you want with a magic wand! Oh, oh! Make me some shoes too! Can you give me, like, a whole new wardrobe? Oh, my gosh. This is so cool! How about making, like, a new car and - ”

“ - No, no, no. Hold on. It doesn’t work like - ”

“ - lovespells? Can it cast lovespells? Like you can make Ryan finally notice that I’m totally - ”

“ - Ashley! Shut up! Listen to me! Will you listen?”

“What?” Ashley pouted. “You don’t need to be rude!”

“Well, I’m trying to explain and you keep babbling. Just, shut up for a second and listen to me. I already tried making money and stuff. The Wand doesn’t do anything like that. Look here.” Erica showed Ashley the placard.

Ashley read the rules, “You may use the magic wand for 3 days. You may only use it in your profession. You must secretly - what’s that word?”

“Bequeath. It means something that you give to somebody. Like an inheritance.”

“Oh. Secretly bequeath it to an anonymous stranger.” Ashley crinkled her nose. “Well, that’s gay.”

“Well, I’m sorry you don’t approve of how the magic wand works. I didn’t make up the rules. Okay?”

“But it says use it in your profession. You don’t have a job. How did you do all this skateboarding stuff?”

Erica was a little offended and defensive. “Duh. I’m a sponsored amateur. Maybe I’ve never had a regular job, but I’ve won prize money for skating and stuff. I’ve placed in contests. That’s still legit. I guess that makes skateboarding my profession.”

“Well, you keep skating like what you just showed me and you’re not going to be an amateur for long!”

“No doubt.” Erica grinned, appreciative of the compliment.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

“It was literally just laying on the front walk this morning. I was headed out the door to come to school and I hit it with my skateboard and biffed it. I have no idea where it came from.”

“Bequeathed from an anonymous stranger?”

“I guess so.”

“So, you zapped yourself with the magic wand and now you can do impossible skate moves?”

“Yeah! Well, that was an accident. I swore at The Wand and said I would have done an impossible trick to ollie over it and it zapped me. All of a sudden, I could do almost any trick I could imagine. Then I just started playing around with it.”

“Wow. So, what are you going to tell your mom and dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are they going to be happy to come home and find a skate pool in the backyard?”

“Too late now.” Erica laughed. Then, seriously, she added, “No, I don’t think they’ll mind. They’re always so supportive. I know they wouldn’t build me a pool, but having one appear for free? I doubt they’ll give me a hard time for that.”

“You think?”

“They totally would have built one for me. We just couldn’t really afford it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I asked my dad like months ago and that’s what he said.”

“Did he mean it though?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“You know how parents are. Since he couldn’t afford it, he’d say he’d make one, knowing he’d never have to follow through. But, if you had won the lottery - ahem - ”

“ - Sorry - ”

“ - he wouldn’t have built it, because he didn’t really want to make one.”

“Well, like I said, it’s too late now.” Erica chuckled.

“You’re crazy.” Ashley said.

“This is awesome.” Erica said, looking up at The Wand.

“Totally.” Ashley’s tone was a little disappointed. She was happy for Erica, but jealous too. She really wanted a new wardrobe or something too. Plus, maybe Erica didn’t win the lottery, but the way she can skate now, she was going to be wealthy in no time. Trying to be upbeat and supportive, Ashley said, “So, what else are you going to try to do with it? Oh! And can I have some of those Vans?”

§

“Are you recording?” Erica asked.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m going.” Her father answered, holding the videocamera as he stood in the backyard.

Early in the day on Friday morning, Erica had five skateboards positioned around the deep end of the pool coping in a 50-50 grind.

Erica dropped in the shallow end, launched out of the opposite side, and did a cartwheel across the five skateboards, dropping back in when she reached the final deck.

Her mother and father both cheered. Her mom clapped and nearly knocked over her lemonade.

Erica had been right.

Her parents didn’t mind that their daughter had created the pool.

Once they went through all the expected emotions - skepticism, disbelief, shock, awe - they finally realized the same thing Ashley did; Erica was going to be wealthy.

They let her stay home from school.

They both took the day off work.

The plan was shoot some video of her skateboarding and post those videos on the Internet.

Sweat was pouring off Erica’s brow.

“I need a break.” She sighed, as she brushed a few wet brunette strands off her face.

“You need a break?” Her mother asked. “Take a break.” She patted the lawnchair next to her. Erica flumped down and took off her helmet.

“I bet you don’t even need that.” Her dad pointed to it as he set the camera down.

“Michael!” His wife chided, “Don’t encourage her!”

Erica nodded. “No, dad is right, mom. I don’t need it. I’m not going to fall. But I’m not wearing it for me. This video is totally going to go viral and millions of people are going to end up watching it. I want to be a good influence on the kids who see it.”

Her mother kissed her cheek.

Erica shoved her away. “Ew. Mom!”

Her mom looked at her dad, “See, honey? We raised a positive role model.”

“You’re right. You’re right!” He waved his hands over his head. “Erica is right. It’s a good thing to show kids to skate with gear on.”

Erica squinted in the sun at her dad. “You think we need anything else?”

He frowned. “Not really. I mean, keeping it short, like 2 or 3 minutes, I think we have plenty. Besides, you want to save some surprises for the contest tomorrow. Right?”

Erica nodded.

The next day was the annual contest at Venice Beach “Dennis ‘Polar Bear’ Agnew” Memorial Skatepark being put on by the Venice Skateboard Association. Thousands of spectators. Hundreds of video cameras and cameraphones. That would be the place to expose her skills to the world.

The Riley’s sat quietly in the yard, sipping lemonade and looking at the pool.

Erica reached over and absently touched The Wand.

How did she get so lucky?

This would change her life.

She suddenly understood why lottery winners and celebrities become philanthropists. The truth is, we’re all just people. We all have the same fears and insecurities and uncertainties in life.

Erica realized that when good fortune smiles upon you, it makes you want to “give back” to the world. Return some of that positive energy. Share the good karma. You almost feel obligated to do it. Compelled.

After all, there are plenty of people out there who are not only struggling and suffering the same as you, but not so long ago, you were one of them. You were in their shoes.

Who could endure the struggles of life and not feel compassion for those who are suffering from the same?

“I wonder,” Erica muttered, “If I could make some donations with this.”

“What was that, sweetie?” Her mother asked.

“That’s it!” Erica jumped to her feet. “Dad, you have to take me to some skateparks!”

“Sweetie, I can’t. I have that meeting this afternoon. I told you I could only take off half the day.”

“What for? I thought you were waiting until tomorrow.” Her mother asked.

Erica shook her head, grinning at how happy this idea made her. “No, not to skate. To fix them up! Don’t you see? If The Wand can make a pool in our backyard, I can go to all the crappy skateparks around town and fix them up! Give the kids real places to skate. Not those lame street plazas and metal ramps.”

Her parents looked at each other. They shared a silent agreement and cocked their heads at each other.

Erica’s mom said, “Sweetie, that’s a wonderful idea. But, I’m not so sure it’s a smart thing to do. What with all that green light flying out of The Wand and whatnot. People are going to freak out when they see you doing that.”

Erica thought about it.

They were right.

She couldn’t think of a way to show up at the skateparks without looking like something out of a fantasy movie.

“Well, I’d like to do something with it that isn’t selfish. I only have one more day left.”

A pile of skate magazines sat on the rack beneath the patio endtable. As Erica was thumbing through issues of Concrete Wave and Juice, she got the perfect idea.

Checking the time, she saw Ashley would be getting out of school for early dismissal any minute now.

“We got some great footage.” Her dad announced. “I’m going to start putting it together.”

“I thought you just said you had to go back to work.” His wife said.

“I do. But, I have a little time before I have to go.” He kissed her and went back into the house.

“Cool. Thanks, dad. I’m going to go hang out with Ashley.” Erica announced.

§

“Do you think this is going to work?” Ashley asked.

Ashley stood on the mountain road with Erica. They were way up in the San Gabriel Mountains, on one of the less used streets. They hadn’t seen another car for 5 minutes.

“I have no idea.” Erica said.

Downhill skateboarders were always looking for good streets to ride. Finding mountain roads that were smooth enough to skate often proved to be a challenge. Old and chunky asphalt made it extra dangerous to be pushing 40 and 50 miles per hour on a skateboard.

What if those roads could be repaved with glassy smooth pavement?

Not only that, but even change the camber of the curves and the guardrails. Perhaps something constructed of a high impact carbon fiber? Guardrails that would not only protect cars and trucks from hurtling over cliffs, but also have the correct properties to gently absorb the impact of human bodies without instantly breaking bones.

Erica held The Wand high overhead and pointed it down the mountain.

“SHAZAM!”

In an instant, the green flash splashed from the crown of The Wand and sent ripples down the pavement in both directions. Up and down the slope of the mountain, the road waved like water and changed color to a deep and heavy black. The divider and safety lines were polished to a sheen like they had just been created.

“Wow!” Ashley sighed. Her face crinkled at the street, trying to see it better. She squatted down onto her knees. “Erica?”

Ashley touched the pavement.

Her face was still contorted in a perplexed grimace.

“Erica, what did you turn it into?”

“Huh?” Erica was grinning, stunned at her own handiwork.

“Feel this.”

Erica got down on her haunches too. “What? I fixed the asphalt.”

“This doesn’t feel like asphalt.”

Erica touched the surface. Ashley was right. The texture was somehow harder and smoother. Not only was the asphalt modified by The Wand to be rubberized, but the carbon fibers used in the guardrail technology was integrated into the road surface as well. No street had every been constructed this way as the materials would have been massively expensive to even invent. The internal mesh would allow the road surface to remain extraordinarily pliable and thereby prevent the street from cracking with age.

“Whoa.” Erica ran to the car. “I gotta skate this!”

Grabbing her longboard, Erica threw The Wand in the car and took off down the hill. Ashley brought her deck with her too, but she waited by the car. Ashley was the type who longboarded on the boardwalk or over to the library. She was a far more casual skater than Erica. She wasn’t about to drop into pools or hit Mach 10 down a mountain road like Erica could.

Erica quickly hit speeds she never would have attempted two days prior. The surface of the road was astounding. Smooth as hell, yet still grippy. Later, as they drove back down the mountain, Ashley would comment on how she even felt a change in the way the car handled. Everything felt more solid. Firm. The car felt like a hovercraft.

As Erica spun her body and threw the board into a stylish Coleman slide, the wheels hushed like a gentle rain. She never felt such a smooth slide before.

Erica hadn’t intended to go very far down the road, but she was having so much fun, the next thing she knew, she was nearly to the bottom.

Snatching her cellphone out of her pocket, she called Ashley.

“Please work. Please work. Please work.” She mumbled.

The signals didn’t travel too well in the mountains.

Thankfully, Ashley got the call.

“Hey. You okay?” Ashley asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. I thought you biffed it. Where are you?”

“Come back down. I’m at the bottom. Near the offroad park.”

“Okay, I’ll be right down.”

“Cool. We have a lot more roads to do!”

§

“I just got an idea.” Erica said. “But I need your opinion.”

The sun would be down in another hour. She and Ashley had spent all afternoon driving across the San Gabriel mountains and the Santa Monica Mountains, altering the asphalt on every single mountain road. Eventually, Erica even got the idea to change some of the dirt fireroads into downhill skateboard tracks. No traffic. Perfect berms. They were extraordinary. Even skaters who weren’t adept at downhill could ride them. They were like luge chutes.

Now, they were on their way to Venice.

Maybe they couldn’t go upgrading all the skateparks, but they were going to try one of them.

“What idea?” Ashley asked, headed down the 10 from the 405.

“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. What if I donated money to some skateboarding organizations? You know, like the non-profit ones. Like the ones that help get skateparks built in ghetto neighborhoods and the ones who send decks to kids overseas and stuff.”

“You mean use The Wand?”

“Of course. Not like I have any money.”

“Why not just put money in your bank account and donate that?”

Erica rolled her eyes, “I already told you. That doesn’t work!”

“So, you just want to make anonymous donations?”

“Well, yeah.”

Ashley moaned, “Hmm.”

Erica wasn’t sure if it was a disapproving sound or a contemplative one.

Ashley asked, “Well, how can you use The Wand to just zap money into their bank accounts? I mean, do you need to be at their banks or something? How do you know which banks their accounts are at?”

“I honestly have no idea. That’s why I wanted your opinion. I have no idea how to make this work.”

“Could you just do it online? Donate money through their websites or something?”

“I guess that would work better, huh?” Erica thought it over. “Yeah. That totally might work! Thanks, Ashley! See, I knew you’d come up with something!”

“You gonna try it when you get home?”

“Get home? Heck, I can just try it with my smartphone. Log onto the websites from there.”

“Well, wait until we stop.”

“Why?”

“Because! I don’t want all that crazy that green stuff zapping out of The Wand, inside my car, while I’m driving! I don’t feel like crashing.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay. Good point. I’ll wait.”

When they got to Venice, they parked a few blocks from the beach on a quieter sidestreet.

“Well, give it a shot.” Ashley said as she turned off the ignition.

Erica visited about three of four websites for various non-profit skateboarding advocacy organizations. Each time, she would get to the “donate” buttons and touch The Wand to her phone.

“SHAZAM!”

The green magical light would buzz around the phone and the confirmation messages would come back that $100,000 was successfully donated, but she still wasn’t sure the funds were actually working.

“How will you know?” Ashley asked.

Erica shrugged. “I bet they’ll be on the news tomorrow if it actually works.”

Ashley shrugged too. “I guess.”

Erica looked up from her phone and paused before she grinned. “You ready?”

“Totally!”

§

Erica walked onto the beach with Ashley. She wore her hoodie up and had sunglasses on. Tourists galore wandered the sand and the boardwalk.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea.” Erica whispered.

“Why not?” Ashley asked.

“The light!”

“Light? What light?”

“Dork. The light you were just complaining about in the car! The crazy green light that always comes out of the magic wand, dummy. It’s not like people aren’t going to see it. There’s like a million freaking tourists here. I don’t want people to know I’m the one who did this. You know people will totally try to jack this thing if they see me using it.”

“Why didn’t you say so before we got here?”

“I didn’t think of it until just now!”

“Ugh. Idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot. How many times have you had to use a magic wand? Huh? I’m not exactly experienced with this. I forgot. Okay? Give me a break!”

Ashley stopped walking.

“What?” Erica asked.

“Hold on.” Ashley thought about it.

“Hold on for what?”

“Just shut up a minute and give me a chance to - I got it!”

“Got what?”

“Come on.” Ashley started running off the beach toward the boardwalk.

“Ashley? Where are you going?”

“Come on. I have the answer.”

The girls made their way to the closest tourist shop and bought the cheapest t-shirts they could find.

“What the heck are you doing?” Erica asked.

“Have you ever made a ninja mask out of a t-shirt?”

“Ninja mask?” Erica chuckled. “No. That’s nerdy.”

“Yeah. My little brother showed me how you do it. Here, slip it over your scalp and - no, not all the way on. Just put the neck around your eyes like this. Then tie the sleeves behind your head... Yeah. Just like... No. No. Stop. Here. Watch me do it.”

Ashley demonstrated how to tie the shirt and Erica got it right away.

“Ohh! I see. Brilliant!”

“We go on the beach, put these on, do your magic, then rush back to the car. No one can identify us.”

“That’s genius. But won’t we look suspicious running down the street with ninja masks on? People will think we robbed a bank.”

Ashley scoffed. “Please. It’s Venice. No one is going to look twice. Running down the boardwalk with a wizard staff and ninja masks in Venice? We’ll be the least suspicious people out there.”

Erica shrugged. “True.”

Minutes later, Ashley and Erica were back on Venice beach. Standing hundreds of feet away from the skatepark, they stared at the transitions in the distance.

Smiling, Erica turned on her headphones. “Metroland” by OMD began to play. Bopping her head as she stood in the sand, she pointed The Wand down the beach.

“SHAZAM!”

Ashley wondered, “I’ve been meaning to ask you - what happens if you don’t say ‘Shazam?’”

“I don’t know. I just said that everytime.” Erica laughed.

“Did you say it the first time?”

“The first time?”

“When you tripped over it.”

“Oh. No.”

“So why do you say it now?”

Erica giggled, “I have no idea.”

§

Light dazzled forth and hopped across the sand like a dancing water fountain. Every arc and curve of light drew a dozen new pools and bowls and twisting, turning snakeruns into the beach.

Laughing, Erica and Ashley spun and danced and as they twirled. As they moved, the light grew more intricate and elaborate and spiraled farther and farther down the shore. People began pointing and tapping friends on the shoulders. Within seconds, hundreds of people were watching the magical display of fireworks that were sculpting the very sand. As the luminous dragons and glowing rivers poured and roared, they crashed into the existing skatepark like waves. Each splash of light evolved and swirled into a new transition, a new shape, a new cradle.

Two minutes after they began, the light started to fade. The original skatepark had grown twentyfold. What had been a mere 16,000 square feet now extended from Brooks Avenue to Venice Boulevard. More than a quarter million square feet of perfect, flawless, meticulous cement now billowed before the girls. Laid out like a magic carpet of glorious curves. Within a few seconds, Erica had just built the largest skatepark in the entire world.

§

“That was amazing!” Ashley yelled as she opened her car door. “Get your board!”

Erica took off her makeshift ninja mask. “No. No, I’m going to wait until tomorrow.”

“Are you crazy? You just made the most amazing skatepark ever and you’re not going to skate it!?”

“I want to blow everyone’s mind tomorrow. If I skate tonight, people will know what I can do. I’d rather wait for the contest tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you want to wait. Even I want to skate it! And I barely skate!”

“So get your longboard and carve some snakeruns.”

“Ride with me?”

“Of course! I’ll take some mellow runs with you.”

§

As they flowed down the seemingly endless snakeruns, the girls laughed with delight. The concrete of the skatepark created by The Wand was flawless and dreamlike. Every corner, every pocket, every transition flowed effortlessly into the next. The natural flow of the lines guided you to exactly the right spot to maximize your speed and let you glide effortlessly through the hips and over the decreasing radius bowls.

Neither one of the girls had ever ridden anything like it.

Ashley had no idea just how much Erica was holding back.

Erica knew blasting 8 foot airs over some of these hips would be simplistic. She couldn’t imagine not knowing how to skate so well, it just seemed so natural to her, thanks to The Wand.

§

“Hey, let’s change some skateparks after sunset.” Erica grabbed Ashley’s shoulders.

“What?”

“We do it at night! Keep our ninja masks. Total ninja mission! Come on! It’ll be awesome!”

Smirking, Ashley said, “Didn’t your parents tell you not to?”

“They didn’t want me to get caught. We do it at night, wearing masks, and it’s a lot less likely we’ll get caught.”

“True. Okay. Cool! Let’s go!”

By midnight, there wasn’t a street plaza (or a tennis court dotted with prefabriatced ramps that cities placate skateboarders with as makeshift skateparks), left anywhere in the Los Angeles basin. From Chatsworth down to Irvine, the girls changed over a dozen skate spots into epic and magnificent skateparks replete with pools, snakeruns and insanely massive cradle bowls dotted with oververt pockets and capsules. Hit and run. In and out. Quick as outlaw bankrobbers. Zap the park, hop back in the car. Off to the next one.

§

“Erica!” Her mother called her. Erica spent all morning getting ready for the contest and was just about headed out the door.

“Erica Ann Riley!”

Erica cringed. Uh, oh.

“Yes?” Erica jogged into the livingroom.

Her mother pointed at the television. “Do you mind explaining this?”

The local news was airing a story talking about the fact that skateparks all over the city had mysteriously changed and the park on Venice Beach was now massive.

Erica had no idea how to respond.

She stared at the television in shock. Not shocked that the story was on the news, but shocked that she hadn’t thought of the fact something so obvious would happen. She thought there’d be a news report on her donations to skate organizations, but it never occurred to her that there would be morning news reports on the altered skateparks. How did Erica and Ashley never think of that? She felt like an idiot. “Um. Well. That. Uh. Gosh. Wow! Look at that! What?”

“What? You know very well what, young lady! Your father and I specifically told you not to do that!”

Just at that moment, Erica’s dad walked in the room. He had no idea what had been happening. “What’s going on?”

“Your daughter changed all the skateparks in town after we told her not to!”

“Not all of them.”

Casting her a disapproving glace, her dad said, “We told you not to do any of them.”

Erica nodded. “I know. I know. You did. But, well, now, mom, I figured you just didn’t want me to get caught doing it? I mean, that was your reason for saying I couldn’t do it. Right? So, I figured as long as I didn’t get caught, you’d be okay with it.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t think so. What is the news report saying?”

“The news report? So, you don’t even know?” Her mom’s eyes slitted.

“Well, I’m pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure?”

“I don’t think anyone saw us, mom. We were careful.”

“Mike?”

Mike cleared his throat and looked at his daughter, “Honey, your mother is right. We did tell you not to do this.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.” As a way to try getting out of this, Erica quickly changed the topic to something that might redeem her. “I donated money to skateboard charities last night too.”

“You did what?”

“I used The Wand to help give donations to some charities too.”

Her mother rolled her eyes, deflated, and stood akimbo to her husband. “When you get home from the contest, you’re grounded for the rest of the weekend.”

“Mom! Come on! I did something good! Something helpful!”

“Yes, sweetie. You did. And I’m happy that you did what you felt was the right thing. But the fact remains, you disobeyed something we specifically told you not to do. We told - ”

“ - But if you just said it was a good thing!”

“Erica! Let me finish! We told you not to do this because we were afraid you’d get caught and have to answer for having a magical wand in your possession. How would you explain that? How many authorities do you think would want to take you away from us and start doing some kind of experiments on you to find where you gained these powers?”

“I don’t have any powers! It’s all The Wand.”

“I know that. But do you think they’d know that? You think they’d trust you? Just take your word? You want people to take you away from us and turn you into some kind of guinea pig?”

“No.” Staring shamefully at the ground, Erica knew her mom was right and she felt stupid she hadn’t thought of that herself.

“No. Now, we were just trying to protect you. And you disobeyed us. However, you are right. You did do a good thing. And I’m proud of you for that. That’s why you are only grounded for the reminder of the weekend, instead of all month. Understood?”

“Yes, mother.”

§

Despite the size of the skatepark having grown exponentially overnight, the Venice Skateboard Association decided to hold the annual skatepark contest in the original pool. Since no one was expecting the park to suddenly and inexplicably grow to such a massive size, they reasoned that it was only fair to have the competitors use the pool everyone was familiar with riding.

There was some initial talk of shutting down the expanded sections of the skatepark, since none of it was sanctioned by Parks & Recreation and the local government was concerned about safety issues if the park didn’t meet up to building codes.

However, once word got out across the Internet, there were so many skaters in all the newly modified skateparks that the authorities just let it go. They’d inspect the skateparks when they had a budget - which meant never.

§

“Next up in the Girls Division, we have Erica Riley from Sherman Oaks. Just over the hill. A Val in Venice. Let’s see what Erica has for us today!” The announcer said over the loudspeakers.

Hundreds of people were on hand to watch the event. Dozens of skateboarders from all around the country had come to participate on the beaches of Venice. Tourists from all over the world stood around the perimeter of the pool, snapping photos, shooting videos, thrilled at seeing spectacular skateboarding up-close-and-personal in a way they had never witnessed before.

What they were about to see from Erica was unlike anything anyone had ever seen in the history of the sport.

Erica pointed at the DJ and spun her finger in the air. While all the other skaters just rode to anything the DJ decided to play, she gave him a special request.

“Vision Thing” by The Sisters of Mercy began to blare.

The song was totally out of place. This wasn’t punkrock. This wasn’t reggae. This wasn’t rap. This was a genre of music that skateboarders in a beach community hadn’t ever heard before.

The song was perfect.

Erica ran across the deck, full speed towards the deep end of the pool. Holding her board over her head with both hands, she dove headfirst into the pool. The temperature dropped 10 degrees from the collective gasp of the crowd.

Erica slammed into the transition and rolled down in a handstand. The crowd went crazy. It was the most amazing drop-in ever attempted and her run was just starting. Over the next three minutes, she did nothing but trick after trick that no one had ever done. She spun double McTwists to one-handed handstands. She had Ashley throw a board to her so she could do a daffy 50/50 grind across the coping where both boards were up on one truck each. She blasted 9 foot fakie airs over the hip and darkslide boardslides across 30 tiles while doing 4 kickflips. She did a rollout on one front wheel into a one-armed handstand on one back wheel. Primo grind handstands and back to back to back airs 12 feet over the crowd. She soared. She decimated. She could do no wrong.

Everything she did was impossible.

Everything she did was flawless.

Everything she did was glorious.

The announcer was going crazy.

The other skaters were going crazy.

The crowd was howling like no other skate contest crowd has ever cheered. With that one contest, with that one run, in 3 short minutes, Erica Riley established herself as the greatest skateboarder of all time. She did tricks that no one else had ever attempted. Tricks no one else had ever even thought of trying. Not only did she do things that seemed to defy the laws of physics and human agility, but she pulled off every move with grace and steeze the likes of which no living being should be able to do.

She finished her run by launching out of the pool, landing on the spectators rail, and going a nosegrind across it while in a backwards handstand. She came off the rail with a backflip and landed on her board as smoothly as an Olympic gymnast sticking a dismount from the uneven bars.

“WHAT!? NO WAY! Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer yelled, “History! You have just witnessed skateboarding history here on the beaches of Venice. The single most amazing run anyone has ever performed on a skateboard! Erica! Erica!? I have no idea how you did that. That was amazing! Ladies and gentleman, those tricks don’t even have names! I can’t tell you what we just saw! Folks upload your videos to the Internet tonight. No one is going to believe what just happened here today!”

He was right.

Thanks to the Internet, word of Erica’s skateboarding would spread easier than butter on hot pancakes. By this time tomorrow, Erica knew her name will be spoken by hundreds of thousands of people.

Erica was mobbed after her run with fans wanting her autograph, spectators handing her business cards, asking if she was sponsored by any major companies, where she learned to ride, how long she had been skating.

For a few moments, it was quite overwhelming.

She started to wonder what she may have gotten herself into.

But then she remembered, this is what she wanted. This would come with the territory. She knew she was setting herself up to be sucked into the whirlwind. The next few months would be astonishing. Sponsors. Contracts. Endorsements. Interviews. Television guest spots. Cameos in movies. Signature videogames. She knew it was all inevitable. It was all going to happen.

This is what she wished for.

From this moment forth, her life would be changed forever.

Yes. She knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

Suddenly she was grateful that she was grounded all weekend. After all, this might be the last restful weekend she has for years to come.

Sitting on the funbox next to her dad, she swigged a mouthful of water, smiled and closed her eyes. Erica rested her head on her fathers shoulder while the next girl took her run.

§

“So, can I use it when you’re done?” Ashley asked, sitting on Erica’s bed.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Why won’t you let me use it?”

“The last rule says I have to give it to an anonymous stranger. Secretly.”

“So?”

“So? So first of all, you’re not a stranger. Second, if I just give it to you, it won’t be secret. Sure won’t be anonymous either.” Erica said, putting her board in the corner.

“Well, maybe, if you, like, hide it in the woods or something, and I can go find it.”

“Hide it in the woods?”

“Yeah.”

“Heck, I’m just thinking about keeping it.” Erica touched The Wand as she said it.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not? It might just keep working.”

“Yeah. It might. But what if it, like, totally backfires on you? Like what if using it for more than 3 days means all the stuff you made will disappear or something?”

“Oh.” Erica almost gasped at the idea. She hadn’t considered the possibility that she might revoke her skateboarding skills. “I really hadn’t thought of that. Maybe you’re right. Like a punishment if you don’t follow the rules? You think that could happen?”

Ashley nodded confidently. “Totally. Why not? Hey, I’ve just watched enough movies and stuff to know that if a magic wand has some rules, you probably shouldn’t screw around with breaking them.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“Yeah, come on. Every horror movie in the world is like that. It’s always some stupid teenage girl who goes breaking the rules and the next thing you know, her face melts off or she gets raped by a vacuum cleaner or something. I’m just saying, don’t be that girl.” Ashley popped her gum.

Erica flicked an index finger at her. “But what about you then?”

“What about me?”

“You’re a total hypocrite! You’re trying to cheat and get me to give you The Wand when I’m done with it, when it specifically says I can’t do that. You’re trying to break the rules yourself!”

“Fine. We are no longer friends. Our friendship is over. Leave it in the woods.”

“Ashley. That’s not going to work. Renouncing our friendship in front of The Wand doesn’t turn you into a stranger. I still know who you are! Dork.”

Ashley pouted. “Damnit. It’s not fair. I want a magic wand too!”

“Careful what you wish for.”

“Ha, ha. Can I stay over?”

“Sure. I’ll just ask my mom. But I’m grounded, so she might say no.”

“Grounded? Since when? What for?”

“Since this morning. Because we - ” Erica glanced over her shoulders. “ - Because of our little... ninja mission, last night.”

“Ohhh. That. You got grounded?”

“Just for the weekend.”

“Lame. I’m surprised your dad let me come over.”

“I know. I think he was so excited about the contest, he didn’t even think of it.”

“Well, maybe she’ll change her mind.”

“Hope so!”

§

“Heyyy!” Erica moaned at sunrise, shielding her eyes.

“Turn out the light!” Ashley whined.

Once again, as it had done to all of its past owners, The Wand was floating overhead above Erica, illuminating her bedroom as bright as desert sunlight, and the moment Erica touched it, the light went out.

She rolled back over to go back to sleep.

The light turned back on, and blazed twice as bright.

“What is that!?” Ashley asked, still covering sore eyes.

Erica threw up a hand, smacked The Wand, and the light vanished.

Sitting up, she grabbed it. “Stupid thing.”

“Just put it outside.” Ashley muttered into her pillow.

Erica already intended to do exactly that before Ashley even suggested it. She got up and took The Wand in her backyard, tossing it in the grass.

When she shut her eyes back in bed, it was floating above her again.

“OH MY GOD!” Ashley groaned. “Just cover it up!”

“What the hell?” Erica covered her eyes again.

Again she took it outside.

This time, she wasn’t going to toss it on the lawn.

Groggily, she hurled it over the fence.

She didn’t really mean to chuck it down a mountain. She was so tired, she wasn’t really paying attention to what she was doing.

Turning back to her house, Erica crawled under the covers and went to sleep again. She grinned at her First Place medal from the contest, draped over the corner of her dresser. Poor girl had no idea her alarm would go off in another 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, The Wand tumbled and flipped down the hillside, gaining speed as it bounced past chaparral and rocks, sailing down cliffs.

Hundreds of feet below Erica’s backyard, The Wand came to rest in a puff of dust on a well-traveled fireroad hiking trail.

Chapter Four

Michael Jackson was in his thirties, a blonde-haired, green-eyed, struggling musician, with a sound reminiscent of Frank Sinatra or Barry Manilow. He was quite talented and an excellent singer with a vocal range that might not make an opera singer jealous, but would make them proud. Critics used words like “mellow” and “warm” and “smooth” and “golden” to describe both his voice and his fashion sense. If you didn’t know they were talking about a young troubadour, you’d think they were describing whiskey. But, unfortunately, the voice he had a talent for was in a musical style which simply wasn’t so popular anymore. The fact that he was a white man with the name “Michael Jackson” didn’t help matters. Not at all.

“I thought you were dead.”

“You’re not as white as I expected.”

“Hide the kids!”

Yeah. He heard every stupid joke you could imagine.

Over and over.

And over.

And over.

His girlfriend kept telling him to just adopt a stagename. Didn’t matter what he called himself. Anything was better than a Big Band crooner named Michael Jackson.

He didn’t want to change it though. He grew up with a great relationship with his parents, and his extended family, and it felt disrespectful to change his surname. He didn’t want to pursue his dream under a name that didn’t belong to him.

Although, to curb the ridicule, he did go by “Mike” to most people.

Mike was out for a morning run on a hiking trail, just above the 405 freeway, when he saw The Wand come flipping down the hillside and land on the path in a puff of dust.

Peering to the top of the mountain, he saw an extended series of little telltale wisps of dirt fleeing with the morning breeze. This stick had obviously fallen a very long, long way down the cliff.

Bits of rock are always crumbling down cliffsides and critters like squirrels and lizards are always popping out from the underbrush onto the trail. You just tune those things out and keep jogging. When a huge staff nearly beans you in the head, that kind of catches your attention. Ordinarily, he would have kept right on running. Had this been a few rocks, he wouldn’t have paid them any attention beyond a quick glance of curiosity. This time, he walked over to The Wand and picked it up.

The craftsmanship was beautiful. Gnarled and twisted it wound up into itself as though it were the bones of arthritic old wizards. It didn’t look like any hardwood he recognized. Reddish like cherry, maroon like oak, deep dark browns like walnut or sapele. Highlighting the colors, the surface was slightly glossy. Glossy not from any form of varnish, but clearly from years and years of being touched and handled. The gloss caught the rising sunlight and tickled sparkles deep in the grain like reflections off a pond.

The brass plaque wavered in a gentle wind and tinked a warm ring as it tapped the wood.

Mike read The Rules.

He smirked.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” He said aloud to no one.

He still had a good distance to run, but he decided to take The Wand with him. Clearly whomever dropped it off the cliff wasn’t going to come looking for it, not after it had fallen so far away. Plus, the craftsmanship was so beautiful, he figured his girlfriend might like it for decoration or something.

Wrapping a sweaty hand around The Wand, gripping it firmly so as to not let it slip out of his fingers, Michael Jackson continued on his morning run.

§

“Hey, babe! I’ve got something for ya!” Mike yelled into the apartment as he set down his keys.

His girlfriend, Brandy, didn’t answer.

Mike heard the shower going.

He needed one too, so he decided to join her.

Typical of most boyfriends, he could be a sneaky bastard. Jumping into the shower unannounced would have effectively scared the bejezzus out of her and given him a good laugh, but he decided against it. Last time, she almost kneed him in the groin on reflex.

At least, she pretended it was a reflex.

This time, Mike knocked first. “Baby! Baby, I have something for you.”

“Oh, I bet you do!” Brandy yelled back, over the sound of the water.

Mike climbed in with her.

She was a musician as well. Brandy Rawlins had been a rather successful rockstar a number of decades ago in a band called The Devonlees and had a hit single overseas. Over a dozen years older than her boyfriend, it took her a long time to be comfortable with this young, dashing, cutie pie seeing her naked in the shower.

Various bits of her body were not as tight and firm as they used to be and despite the blue highlights in her hair and her childlike vibrancy, she was self-conscious about her physique.

Mike worshiped her.

He thought her every curve was alluring and was rather aroused by a little wrinkle here and there. He was thrilled that a worldly, successful and sophisticated woman saw anything in him.

They were not together long before her self-consciousness began to melt away.

Having a lover regard you as a deity eventually lifts your esteem.

“I brought you a magic wand.” Mike smiled, knowing Brandy wouldn’t understand the double-meaning until they got out of the shower.

“Oh, God, you are so corny.” Brandy grinned, the water tricking over beautiful curves Mike loved so deeply.

“I’m almost done.” Brandy said.

“No, you have to start all over. See?” Mike shook his head and post-jogging sweat flung from his hair and sprayed all over Brandy’s face.

She screamed and threw up her hands, “Ewwww! Cut it out! You little bastard! Respect your elders! Respect your elders!”

They both started laughing as she blindly swung limp palms, smacking at his cheeks.

As he restrained her, they began to kiss and he showed her the magic wand she had seen many times before.

§

Heading out the door for their Sunday morning breakfast, Mike absently grabbed The Wand near the front door. “Oh. Here. This is what I wanted to give you.”

Brandy looked at him quizzically. “What?” She laughed, “You really did bring me a magic wand?”

Taking it from him, she turned it in her hand and stared up and down the shaft. “It’s beautiful. But, why did you buy me an old wizard staff?”

“Oh, I didn’t buy it. I found it.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it. The thing is beautiful. You found it?”

“Yeah. Someone apparently dropped it off the cliff when I was out running.”

Brandy’s mouth hung open. “So you stole it.”

“I didn’t steal it. It fell off the cliff! What, I’m going to march up a 500 foot cliff and try to find who dropped it?”

“Well, you could have left it there for the rightful owner to retrieve it.”

“Maybe they bequeathed it to me.”

“Bequeathed it to you?” Brandy laughed at his use of such an antiquated word.

“Yeah, look.” Mike flipped over the brass placard and Brandy read The Rules of The Wand.

“Ah. Yes. Bequeathed. So have you used it yet?”

“Used it?” Mike asked.

“Sure. It says you can use it in your profession for three days.” Brandy mocked with a playful twist in the corner of her mouth.

Mike laughed, “Nope. Didn’t try using it. I think real magic wands tend to appear glowing over your bed or something. Or get thrown out of lakes. Not falling down a dusty Los Angeles cliff by the 405.”

Brandy agreed with a snicker. “Good point. That was a sword though, by the way.”

“What?”

“The Lady of the Lake. She drew Excalibur out of the lake for King Arthur. Not a staff. King Arthur’s sword.” Brandy explained.

“Oh, whatever. You know what I meant.”

“Well, thank you for it. It’s lovely.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll find somewhere to put it later. Let’s go. I’m starving.”

“Me too.”

With that, Brandy Rawlins set The Wand against the door and headed out to breakfast with her boyfriend.

§

The Wand remained untouched for the rest of Sunday.

§

On Monday, the couple didn’t touch The Wand until they had come home from work in the evening.

“Honey, you still want this thing?” Mike asked Brandy as he took off his shoes.

“What thing?” Brandy called from the dining room.

“This magic wand thing.”

“You’re not even in the door and you want me jumping on your - .”

Mike laughed, “ - No! I meant staff I found when I was jogging.”

“No? So you don’t want me jumping on your body? Fine!”

“I’m being serious.”

Walking into the livingroom, Brandy saw Mike holding The Wand and said, “Oh, that! Yes, of course, I still want it!”

“You sure? Where should we put it?”

“For now, we can put it by the terrariums.” Brandy walked toward the glass arrangement by the bay window. “I still say you should have used it.”

“Right,” Mike chuckled, waving The Wand as he walked, “My three days of magic? Make me a multiplatinum recording artist with the voice of an angel!”

The green bolt of light frightened Mike so much, he threw The Wand across the room, nearly hitting Brandy and shattering the terrariums.

Spinning around to face Mike, she saw the light spiral out of The Wand, fire straight through his throat, sail across the room, ooze into the bookshelf, spilling across his albums, then vanish.

“Mike!” She screamed, rushing back to him.

Her boyfriend was clutching his throat. He wasn’t in any pain, he was simply terrified. His hands clamored over his skin, feeling for scars or marks. Was he bleeding? Why didn’t the green fire burn him?

“Am I?” Mike asked in a panic.

“Are you what?” Brandy said, grabbing his shoulder.

He realized he hadn’t spoken all of his thoughts aloud. “Bleeding!” He said. “Am I bleeding?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know! Move your hand. Let me see. Let me see!” Brandy gently eased his hand away.

Not a mark on him.

“No.” Brandy sighed. “You’re fine. Not a scratch. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

Mike was trembling and looked back over his shoulder, expecting to see green fire levitating in midair. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Brandy said.

“Did you see what that thing did!?”

“Of course I saw it! The light went straight into you and into the bookshelf!” Brandy ran to the shelf, throwing books over her shoulder, fearing the possibility that a fire may have sparked within the bookshelf.

There was no sign of anything.

No fire.

Nothing on the bookshelf had changed.

Until she looked at one of Mike’s albums.

Confused, she stared at the cover.

“Baby?” Mike asked. “You okay?”

Brandy cocked her head at the image. She didn’t recognize it. The album was the same year and self-titled debut as had been on the shelf for the past 2 years. But the cover artwork was completely different.

Brandy didn’t say anything. She just turned the album towards Mike so he could see it.

Walking toward her, he gingerly took the album from her hands. Holding it like some cursed thing, something enchanted and dangerous that would somehow explode like a grenade or suck his soul out of his eyesockets, he stared.

Softly flipping it over, he looked at the back cover.

The song list was the same, but everything else has changed too.

In a frantic scurry to the mantle, he grabbed his other albums off the shelf. All 4 of his releases were different, with fancier artwork, better graphics, and far more handsome pictures of himself.

Without a word, he scrambled upstairs.

“Mike? What are you doing?” Brandy questioned the empty staircase. Rushing after him, she asked again, “Where are you going? Mike?”

“Hold on. I have to see something!” Nearly falling over himself, he ran to the computer and logged into his album sales account for a popular download site.

He had just checked yesterday.

His balance was $45.36.

It was now $19,854,310.55.

He didn’t react. He said nothing. His jaw fell open and he stared at the screen in disbelief. He reloaded the page. Something had to be wrong.

After the reload, nothing changed.

$19,854,310.55.

Brandy came up behind him, asking, “Baby? What are you doing?”

Mike still didn’t speak.

He just looked at his girlfriend and nuzzled his head toward the monitor. She followed his gaze, reading the same data he was seeing.

Brandy caught her breath and held her fingertips over her mouth.

Mike scrolled through the previous transactions, seeing thousands of sales pages, after pages, dating back months.

Brandy was silent too.

Mike wiped tears from his eyes.

He wasn’t crying from joy or shock.

He simply hadn’t blinked for the past 3 minutes.

“The voice of an angel.” Mike whispered so quiet he could hardly hear himself speak.

Brandy thought he said something, but she wasn’t sure. “What?”

“Myyyyyy giiirl,” Mike sang to Brandy, “is violinsss and candleliiiight. My girl, is starshine, on a suuuummer night.”

Carrying on through the whole song, he leapt out of his chair and spun Brandy in his arms. His voice soared to octaves he could never hit before.

The entire rendition of “My Girl” he sang with a harmony that would have filled Bing Crosby with envy.

As he neared the end of the song, Brandy was in tears.

Never had she heard such a voice come out of another human being.

They looked at each other and both thought the same thing.

They looked at the doorway to the staircase.

They raced each other back down the steps, laughing and squealing like children rushing to the Christmas tree.

The Wand was laying on the floor by the terrariums.

The moment Mike got within a foot of The Wand, he paused. Now that it was inches from his grasp, he feared it again.

“Really is a magic wand.” He said, to no one and to The Wand, as if asking it.

“Wow,” was all Brandy could manage to say.

“Damnit!” Mike spun to look at Brandy.

“What?” She stepped back from him.

“Three days!” He said angrily. His fear gone, he grabbed for The Wand.

“Three days?” Brandy questioned.

“The Rules. Remember?” Mike spun The Wand and read the placard and showed it to Brandy. “Look. See? You may use the magic wand for 3 days. I already wasted two days! Today is almost over. Tomorrow is the last day I have left!”

Brandy’s face was tense. She was finally understanding what he was getting at. Trying to reassure him, she explained, “Well, maybe it’s three days of using it, not three days of having it. So, since you just used it for the first time, maybe you still have three days left.”

That seemed logical, Mike thought.

Maybe she was right.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Mike said, “You really think it might work that way?”

Brandy shrugged. “Heck, I don’t know. How am I supposed to know how a magic wand works? Do I look like a witch?”

Mike smirked.

“Don’t you dare answer that!” Brandy joked.

“Nineteen million dollars!?” Mike said. Even though he saw the numbers minutes ago, it was still hitting him in waves of disbelief. His mind was racing all over the place. His voice. The money. A magic wand. Only one day left to use it. He didn’t know where to begin. Spend money? Sing some more? Create more things with The Wand? The sense of everything that happened within those 3 seconds was finally starting to sink in and he was completely baffled by what to do next.

“I need to sit down for a second.” Mike took The Wand into the livingroom and set it on the couch next to him.

“Are you okay? You want me to get you something? I was in the middle of dinner.” Brandy half stepped into the kitchen, awaiting his answer.

“No. No baby, I’m - Hey, yeah. Glass of water?”

“Glass of water? You got it. Anything else?”

“No, sweetie. I’m fine. Thank you.” Mike replied. He sat in a chair, trying to make sense of everything.

Maybe Brandy was right.

Maybe The Wand would still work for three more days. But, why take that risk? If he was right, and he only had one day left, it was best to plan how to use it for just one day, at the risk of squandering it.

Brandy came to him with the water.

“Here you go. Anything else?”

“No. I’m good. Thank you.”

“I should get back to dinner.”

“Baby, I have $19 million dollars now. I think we can go out to eat.”

“I don’t want the food to spoil.”

“Honey? Seriously? Dinner can wait. Let it spoil. We’ll order a pizza. Dealing with a magic wand kind of takes precedence. I really think you can drop cooking for right now.” Mike was rather condescending, but Brandy knew he was right.

“Sorry. You’re right.” Brandy apologized.

He affectionately patted her leg as she sat next to him.

Brandy looked at The Wand. “How is this possible?”

Mike had no idea, but he was thinking a lot more about that money he just saw on the site.

Sipping his water, he asked, “Do you think I can get in trouble for that money?”

“How so?”

Mike sighed. “Well, where did it come from? Don’t I have to pay taxes on it? Have taxes been paid? What if the government is after me for tax evasion?”

Brandy shrugged. “If it was an evil genie lamp, I’d be worried. I don’t think The Wand would screw you over like that.”

Mike chuckled. Where on earth did she get that idea? “Why not? Are you pals with it? You’ve been friends with the magic wand since high school?”

“Very funny.”

Mike wasn’t angry, just bemused. “Well, listen to yourself! How do you know to presume the personality of an inanimate object? I don’t know if it’s good or evil or malevolent or mischievous or benign. But you’re making statements about the morality of the motives it has.”

“Okay. You’re right. You’re right. We don’t know.”

“I’m just saying, I should play it safe with the money. Not run out and buy a house or something. Just in case I have to give it all back.” Mike nodded in a way which requested her affirmation.

Brandy agreed, “Yeah. I think you’re right. We should be careful. Maybe talk to an accountant.”

“Right. What do I say? ‘Excuse me, what’s the tax policy for suddenly conjuring several million dollars with a magic wand?’” Mike laughed.

“Look, what is more important is the opportunity to use it for other purposes. Right? You only have a limited time to use it. So, I think you should worry about money problems later and spend this time to focus instead on what you’re going to do with The Wand for the next 3 days. Or one day.” Brand ordered him in a tone that was very blunt and firm.

Mike took a bug gulp. “Yes. Of course! You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. I’m just a little freaked out right now. You’re right. Focus on what else to use it for.”

“Or,” Brandy sighed, taking the glass from Mike and setting it aside, “I can finish dinner, we can relax, and spend the night celebrating your wonderful good fortune. And you can sing to me some more.”

Brandy kissed him, soft and slow.

Melting under her touch, he kissed her back. His frantic thoughts and swirling mind slowly began to unwind and ease into the simple pleasures of holding his lady.

§

“What’s wrong, baby?” Brandy set her napkin across her lap.

“Oh, nothing. I just - Well, I feel like an idiot for waiting so long to use The Wand. And I feel like even more of a fool because I don’t know what else to do with it.” Mike stared out over the Santa Monica mountains from the terrace of The Getty Museum. The sunlight burned crisp across mountainpeak shades of brown and green and set the morning sky to an inferno of blue. Deeper than the blue of Brandy’s eyes, the sky was the very tone of Heaven itself. Mike and Brandy decided to go out to breakfast again, this time to his favorite French restaurant.

“What else do you want to do with it?” Brandy asked.

He had barely slept. Tossing and turning most of the night, wondering what else to do with The Wand on his final day with it.

Maybe Brandy was right.

Maybe there were still two days left.

But, he didn’t want to take that chance. Best to prepare for the worst case and plan for only using it one more day.

Mike looked at the mountains and said, “Well, that’s my whole point. I don’t know. I mean, I’m almost questioning if being a musician is a waste of time.”

“How can you say that?” Brandy was shocked to hear him say such a thing. “Making music, sharing the gift of song with the world, how is that a waste of time?”

Knowing his girlfriend had success in music, he realized it was an unintentional insult to her own career. Turning to her, he reached for her hand. “Oh, no, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I love my music and I love what you accomplished in music. I meant no insult by it. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I improved my voice and I magically increased my record sales, but what else is there? You get what I’m saying? Music itself is not a waste of time. I just feel like my contributions to music have been.” Leaning back in his chair, he sighed, “I have this astonishing, miraculous opportunity at my fingertips, I can create anything I want for my career, and,” he paused, “I can’t think of anything else to do. I feel like an idiot because I’ve been given this amazing gift and I’m just wasting it as time ticks away. After tonight, I probably won’t be able to use it anymore. It said three days. So what do I do with it for this last day? What else can I do with it? What can I create that is beyond myself? Can I do anything relevant for the world?”

Brandy smiled tenderly at her boyfriend. His sensitivity was touching and it made her love him all the more. The fact that he was trying to think beyond himself made her truly admire him.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a tiny notepad and popped off the cap of a pen with her teeth. Mike was slightly embarrassed that she did that, biting the pen cap, in a nice restaurant, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked, furrowing his brow at the notepad.

“You want to know what else to do?” Brandy asked. “Let’s figure it out together. Start brainstorming some ideas. You can do anything you want as a musician. What do you do?”

Mike thought about it. “A recording studio would be nice.”

Brandy nodded and wrote it down. “Studio. Good. What else?”

“Um, more gigs, I guess.”

“Shows. What about people?”

“People?”

“I mean, you want to be playing 500 seat clubs or 20,000 seat arenas?”

“I don’t think I could fill a 20,000 seat arena.”

“Duh. Magic wand, remember?” As Brandy said the words, she realized maybe she should keep her voice down when taking about magic wands. She whispered, “Who knows how powerful it is? Maybe you could fill stadiums.”

Mike didn’t speak for awhile. Thinking about what Brandy just said, he whispered slightly too. “Where is The Wand going to conjure people from? Will it create people? Like ghosts? They won’t be real. They’ll be some kind of apparitions. Or will it bring in real people? Just zap them out of bed and - POOF! - they’re at a concert?”

“Well, I don’t know how it works.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah. Me either. That’s why I think I should be careful with some stuff like that. Making a boost in record sales is one thing. Forcing people to physically appear at a concert? I dunno. That just seems kind of wrong to me.”

Brandy rolled her head back and forth like a little kid, thinking over what Mike said, “Well. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Good point. Maybe we should be careful about some things.” You could see the thoughts in her eyes suddenly change before she even spoke. “Hey, how about a school?”

“A school?”

“Yeah, like a music school!”

“You mean, like, make a school?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Mike wrinkled his lips and finally said, “Yeah. Okay. If we’re just brainstorming, why not? A music school.”

“Cool. What else?”

“A stadium?” Mike suggested.

“A stadium!?”

“Not like a football stadium. I mean like an outdoor amphitheater. Like my own concert venue. Like the Hollywood Bowl.”

“Okay. That works. A concert venue.” Brady scribbled that on her list as well. “Alright. What else?” Brandy wondered.

Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. What else could a musician possibly want?”

“Maybe your own music store?”

“Sure, I guess.” Mike wasn’t too enthused about that one at all. But, it was just a list. Writing it down didn’t mean he’d have to actually do it.

“Anything else?”

“Let me think.”

Within moments, he was back in the same frustrating place he had been most of the night. What would any artist do if they suddenly had the power to do anything?

The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became.

What if he had been a writer?

What if he had been an actor?

A painter?

A dancer?

No matter what creative profession he could imagine, it seemed like the only things such artists could conjure all involved something selfish. What could an actor improve but their own acting skills? Their profession isn’t very altruistic.

A police officer could solve crimes.

A doctor could cure diseases.

A teacher could improve the school system.

So many other professions had obligations to assist the world. Their jobs were to help people.

What was he as a musician?

For the first time in his life, he started to doubt the worth of his chosen profession. He began to question his true value, even if he did have a glorious voice.

Then he remembered something.

His voice.

Music.

Words.

Could it be so simple? Was this his answer?

When he was a little boy, Mike remembered reading a novel called A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay. All these years later, he never forgot it. The book was wonderful and strange and had the most surreal landscapes in it. The main character goes to another planet and in the story, he describes the existence of two new primary colors - something as vivid as red or blue or yellow or green, but unlike any of them at all.

As a child, Mike found this concept so compelling, so evocative and imaginative, it remained with him all his life. Now, sitting there with Brandy, he realized he might have the same opportunity with music - to create a tonal range unlike anything anyone has ever heard. A deep and emotional connection to the music, wherein every note of music would sound like a color no one had ever seen before.

That’s what he would create.

Only this time, it would be real.

This wouldn’t be a color in an old novel.

This would become a real facet of music itself.

He would create a sound no one had ever known. A melody, a tone that didn’t exist within normal human frequencies. Music that could be felt reverberating in your marrow as well as heard. Notes and harmonies that never existed in the history of the world. Sounds that would be beautiful and soaring and lilting and would uplift the heart of any listener to a place they didn’t know existed, because music so glorious had never been composed before. This would be his gift. This would be his legacy. Not album sales or music schools. Not merely new venues to record or play music, but a shift in the very nature of music itself. This would be his way to give something altruistic to the world. The gift of music beyond any other music ever written.

This was beyond emulating Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin.

He would become a veritable master.

The next Mozart.

The next Beethoven.

The next Bach.

In three hundred years, people would still marvel at the music of Michael Jack - er, David... David Arcturus!

That’s as good a stage name as any.

He didn’t tell Brandy of his plan.

He decided he would keep it a surprise.

Although he chose not to speak of it, his girlfriend saw the change in his face, the slow smile that crept across his lips, which grew wider and wider as he became clouded deeper and deeper into his fantasy. He was so excited, he wished they weren’t about to eat. He just wanted to rush home and try this! See if it was possible! Could the magic of The Wand actually create something like this? Can it be done?

“What, baby? What’s that smile?” Brandy asked, still holding her pen, eager to jot down whatever he was thinking.

Mike shrugged it off. “Oh, nothing. I’m just thinking about that amphitheater idea.”

“Your pain perdu.” The waitress said as she placed a plate in front of Mike. You haven’t had French toast until you’ve had it prepared by a French chef.

“Thank you.” He smiled.

Brandy set her notepad aside, thanking the waitress for her plate as well.

Their meal was wonderful and their conversation was filled with all the joy and excitement that only winners of $19 million lotteries can understand.

§

On the drive home, Mike announced some of his plans.

“Okay, so here’s the thing. Let’s presume that the whole money thing will work itself out. I think I’d like to make a studio and school someplace. Plus, I’ll also make the amphitheater.”

He failed to mention the idea of revolutionizing music. He was still keeping that secret.

Brandy nodded, “That sounds great. So, what will we do first?”

“Well,” Mike said, steering the car away from their ride home, “first let’s head out to Malibu. I’d like to put the school out there. Then we can go back to the Valley and put the amphitheater somewhere in the Verdugo Mountains.”

“Why two separate places?”

“I just thought it would be nice to have two different mountain views. Besides, I figure the Valley is easier highway access for large groups of people coming to see concerts.”

“I guess. But you might spend a lot of time in both places. Right? Do you really want them to be 30 or 40 miles apart?” Brandy raised her brow.

Mike hadn’t thought of that.

“Why not put both in Verdugo?” Brandy wondered.

“I just want that ocean view.”

Brandy couldn’t blame him for that.

She thought about it and said, “Then maybe put it close to Kanan. That should ease the traffic a bit.”

“That’s an idea.”

“Sorry, babe. Maybe I’m over thinking things. Maybe just make the school and see if that works first.” Then, as if it were an afterthought, she asked, “You think this will work?”

“Why not?”

“Well, making record sales and voice changes is one thing. Making entire buildings is something else. Plus, you were worried about taxes on money. What about property ownership on an amphitheater? What about all the legal paperwork involved in that? Will that exist too? How do we know The Wand is even powerful enough to create a whole amphitheater? Maybe test it on something smaller.” Brandy suggested.

The moment she said that, Mike was hit with an idea he never had before. He grinned and said, “Okay. I know just what to test it on.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.” Mike’s voice squealed up into an effeminate octave, he was so excited to share this with Brandy. It wouldn’t really help confirm the ability of The Wand to build a school, but it would be a hell of a lot of fun to make happen.

§

Parking the car on a sidestreet next to the biggest music store in Hollywood, Mike looked at Brandy and said, “Okay, come with me.”

He walked around to the trunk of the car, where he had stashed The Wand while they went to breakfast.

Looking timidly up and down the street, he waited patiently for a dog walker to pass by. Then he double checked for traffic.

“What are you doing?” Brandy asked.

“Just wait. Just stand there.”

Once the coast was clear and there weren’t any cars or people on the street, he said, “Okay. Stand still.”

Raising The Wand over his head, he closed his eyes and pointed the end of the staff at Brandy.

“What are you - ?”

Light flashed from The Wand and gently spilled over Brandy’s body.

She screamed.

Mike opened his eyes. “Shhh! Don’t freak out! It’s okay! It’s okay!”

Brandy felt the strangest sensation from the green light. It was warm and soothing, like being naked and covered in a blanket fresh out of the drier. The visceral tingle was wonderful vanilla and cream.

“What did you do?”

Mike quickly locked The Wand back in the trunk.

Brand looked a bit dazed. Like a person high on marijuana who got slapped in the face by a professional wrestler and was trying to figure out what just happened.

“Baby? You okay?” Mike asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Brandy sighed.

He took her by the arm and lead her towards the main street. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

By the time they reached the doors of the music shop, she had regained her composure. Knowing she had never been able to play keyboards, that was the first place he took her.

Sitting Brandy down at one of the consoles, he simply said, “Play.”

“What?” Brandy looked puzzled.

“Play.” Mike said, his arms crossed and a huge smile on his face.

“You know I can’t play the - ”

“ - Just. Play. Trust me.”

Brandy shrugged.

The first song that came into her mind was “Watermark” by Enya. Her fingers found the keys and played every note flawlessly. Melancholy and flowing like the waves of the wild Irish sea, the music washed so beautifully as to be the first song anyone ever heard.

Members of the staff began to gather.

Customers gathered.

Brandy discovered she could not only play, but she began to improvise and go off on musical tangents that blended and meshed into the original song with perfect grace and harmony. Some listeners began to weep at the beauty and majesty of what she created.

When the song was finished, everyone clapped.

Mike was misty and Brandy was breathless at what she had just conjured from her fingertips.

“Sounds like you’ve played before.” One salesman joked.

“I’ll say!”

“Beautiful.”

“That was amazing.”

“Daddy, I want to play like that someday!”

People dispersed and the salesman tried to gauge their interest in purchasing the keyboard.

“Well,” Mike explained cryptically, “there may be other instruments she wants to check out as well.”

Brandy saw the twinkle in his eye and knew what he was hinting at.

“Come here.” Mike motioned.

He took her to the string section.

“I can already play guitar.” Brandy said.

“I know.” Mike replied as he lead her past the guitars to the violins.

“What? I can’t - ”

Mike glared at her sternly, but kindly.

“ - Okay.” Brandy said.

Delicately, she took a violin off the wall and her fingers found their place on the fret as though she had been a virtuoso all her life. Without thinking, she simply began to play. The song was an original song with a tone like “Sad Romance” by Thảo Nguyên Xanh and again, like her piano performance, was so moving and heartfelt, people came to listen.

Only this time, after carrying them into misty shores and tragic lost loves, they did not clap. They simply walked away slowly, swimming in gray thoughts and the choking of nostalgic yesterdays.

Brandy set the violin back with a sigh.

“Michael?” Brandy said, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

“You can play anything.” He explained.

Brandy sat down on the floor, just so she wouldn’t fall over.

§

“What about you?” Brandy asked as they got back in the car.

“What about me?”

“Don’t you want to give yourself the same ability? To play any instrument?” Brandy’s eyes were glittering, as the whole idea of what just happened to her was still filling her with awe.

“No, no.” Mike said, “I’m a singer, my love. You’re the one who loves to play. This is my gift to you. I kept saying I wanted to do something less selfish. Something that wasn’t all about me. So, I’m giving this to you.”

Brandy melted, “Oh, baby!”

She kissed him as a little tear trickled out of the corner of her eye.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are you sure you’re happy?”

“Yes! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I know half the joy of making music comes from the process of learning to play it. Since you don’t have to learn now - ”

“ - No. No, not at all. This is fantastic, because now I can just skip all the time spent learning and I can just create! No, this is fantastic. Yes, learning is a wonderful process, that’s true, but creating is even better. This frees me up to be endlessly creative! Of course I’m happy!”

“Sorry I tricked you.” Mike wriggled his lower jaw.

“Tricked me?”

“This doesn’t exactly test the ability of The Wand to create an amphitheater.”

“Oh. That. I totally forgot!” Brandy laughed.

“When you said I should test it on something else, this is what popped in my head.”

“You have an odd little head.”

Mike looked at his crotch, “Shall I use The Wand to make it bigger?”

Brandy hit him, “Not that head you pervert! That one is just fine. The only problem is, it seems to control the one above your shoulders!”

“The burden of being male.”

“You’re so corny.”

“You ready to go try it out?”

“We’re not making your junk bigger with a magic wand! Besides, it says it has to be used in your profession. You’re not a porn star.”

“I’m a rockstar.” Mike laughed.

“No, you’re not!” Brandy rolled her eyes. “You sing standards and Big Band songs.”

“Crooners were the rockstars of their day.”

“Yes, but, okay, can we just drop the idea of using magic to change your cock?”

“Okay, I just said let’s try it out.”

“No!”

Mike laughed, “No, I meant try out making the school and the amphitheater.”

“Yes. Daylight is a wasting, buckaroo. Malibu, here we come! Freak.”

§

“Oh my God!” Brandy yelled, smacking the dashboard.

Mike jumped as he turned onto the Pacific Coast Highway. “What!? Jeezus! Scared the wits out of me!”

“The skateparks!” Brandy said, as if it were the most obvious response in the world.

Mike had no idea what she was talking about.

“What?” Mike asked.

“The skateparks! The fire departments! Remember? On the news! All the skateparks in town got bigger overnight and those crazy firetrucks got added to all the fire departments? Right?” Brandy said, her eyes lit with the plea for Mike to understand.

Mike suddenly realized exactly what she was saying, “My God. The Wand!”

“The Wand!”

“Other people must have been using it!”

“Exactly! Firefighters. Maybe a Parks & Recreation manager.”

“Or a skateboarder.”

“Right. Or a skateboarder. That’s where all this crazy stuff is coming from!”

Mike slowly nodded. “Yeah. Yeah! It has to be! Bequeath to an anonymous stranger. Random people are just getting it.”

“We better be careful,” Brandy clarified, “or you better be careful who you leave it to. This could be really awful in the hands of the wrong person. Like what if a killer or a gang banger gets ahold of it?”

“Damn. I hadn’t thought of that. Well, maybe I shouldn’t pass it along at all. Just lock it away someplace. Put it in the closet and just leave it there.”

“That might be risky too.”

“Well, you know what?” Mike nodded, happily. “I’ll just put it right back where I found it. How’s that? Not many killers or gang bangers going for hikes around Beverly Glen at sunrise.”

Brandy was uncertain. “You think that’s best? Maybe leave it at a hospital. Give it to a doctor.”

“Sweetie, that does sound like a great idea, but when a gang banger gets shot, where does he go?” Mike asked.

Brandy, concerned, furrowed her brow. “Oh. Good point. Might fall into the wrong hands even easier at a hospital.”

“Exactly. Look, ‘put it back where you found it’ is age-old advice for all sorts of things in life. Right? I say we trust in some grandmotherly wisdom and I’ll just do that.”

“Okay. You’re the bequeathee.”

Mike laughed. “Bequeathee?”

“Bequeathee to give it to the bequeathest.”

“I really don’t think those are words, baby.”

They both laughed as they continued their drive.

§

Mike picked a spot off Latigo Canyon and walked high up a firetrail into the mountains.

“Kind of off the beaten track, isn’t it?” Brandy asked, sweating.

“So?”

“Well, I can understand making an amphitheater up in the mountains, the acoustics of a valley and all that, but shouldn’t the school maybe be over in Hollywood or in the Valley someplace?” Brandy suggested.

“You could have offered that suggestion before we drove out here. This will give it character. Besides, it’s quieter here. You want secluded and quiet for a music school too.”

“I guess. But it doesn’t need to be in Bigfoot country.” Brandy waved her arms at the mountains.

“Hey. I just made you a virtuoso of every instrument you can buy. Stop bitching and march.” Mike ordered snidely.

Panting, Brandy said, “Yeah, well, being a musical prodigy doesn’t help me scale mountains. Why couldn’t you have been a personal trainer? Then you could have zapped me with The Wand and made me a world champion triathlete.”

Mike laughed and kissed her and they continued their hike.

§

As with the salon created by Mrs. McCreadle and the eHAND system conjured in the fire departments, the musical school made by The Wand was glorious and more grandiose than Michael had envisioned.

Perched atop the mountain, it looked like a science fiction enclave of elaborate wood and stainless steel and glass. Sophisticated fire suppression systems protected it from chaparral fires and flawless acoustics blended with the wood and metals and glass in every conservatory room to simultaneously create the ideal soundproofing from the outdoors and amplification of the slightest whisper within the glorious chambers.

Brandy and Mike were delighted. Everything they dreamed and more was in the school. Even an underground parking structure, and a new asphalt road leading up from Latigo, suddenly came into existence.

They could have spent the whole day playing with the recording studio and the instruments and exploring the rooms.

But, Mike had far more work to do.

By the late afternoon, the couple had abandoned their musical conservatory and headed off to another canyon so Mike could create the amphitheater.

Brandy was right.

The amphitheater should have been built by the school.

Every shred of logic dictated they should be close to each other.

But instinct often trumps logic, and the only place the amphitheater felt right to Mike, was in the Verdugo mountains.

Like every structure before it, the amphitheater conjured by The Wand was beyond measure of any other musical venue on earth.

Seating 25,000 people, the very stone of the mountain creaked and groaned under the green light magic of The Wand. As the foundations of the earth were reshaped, the natural acoustics of the canyon were molded into an impeccable resonance.

When Mike stood upon the stage and spoke in a normal voice, Brandy jumped in the back row, startled that it sounded as though he were quite literally seated next to her.

The tiers of the valley made every seat in the house amazing. The view. The acoustics. The most discerning of theatre goer would never complain about any of it. This was the amphitheater of which all other amphitheaters aspired to be, but even the finest of antiquity never quite attained.

Warm and comforting, Brandy and Mike sat in the center of the arena, admiring their handiwork under the stars. The grand stadium lights were all turned off, so they could see the starlight unhindered. As night rolled on and the busy day had taken its toll, Brandy fell into a deep and serene slumber in Mike’s arms.

Easing her down to sleep, Mike slipped away and stood upon the stage.

The moment had arrived.

The Wand may stop working at midnight. Mike couldn’t be sure.

He raised it above his head and whispered, “Conjure me the music of which I have dreamed. The beauty of notes no one has ever heard before, the wonderment of sounds that have never existed on earth.”

The light which emanated from The Wand was the softest it had ever been. Gently and delicately, it rippled out like a tender splash in a tranquil pond. The glow was faint as fireflies - so pale it almost couldn’t be seen at all. Had it not been so stark and black in the canyon, Mike may not have noticed it.

Moving in the strangest way, the light appeared more alive than it ever had before. There was a playfulness to it. Almost as though it were a magic that had been waiting to be unleashed. A giddy spirit of life which wanted more than anything the simple opportunity to exist in the world.

As the light spread out over the mountains, it suddenly collapsed back, all at once, into Mike. And when it hit him, the sensation was the most humbling grace Mike had ever felt.

Center stage was a grand piano.

Mike stepped towards it.

Far in the recesses of his mind, he heard the music. Down from the starlight it came, rippling in waves even more faint than The Wand light.

And that’s when he knew.

These were the sounds.

These were the melodies that had never existed before.

His fingers found the keys of the piano.

As the music rose in his head, he could suddenly hear the harmonies. Notes timed with notes, striking at just the right moment, built a resonance that no one had ever played before on any instrument known to man. The technique was so simple. So beautiful. So flawless.

Mike’s greatest fear of this wish was that he would be the only man alive to play such music. Now he heard it with his own ears, his ultimate wish had come true. This was music anyone could learn. The notes were not complicated. Simply the way chords were played created the reverberation into a sound that was heretofore unknown in all the history of mankind.

As he played, Brandy stirred.

Within her slumber, she had been carried aloft in the most magnificent of dreams. Something so splendid and wondrous, she had no words to describe the sensations she was feeling. The dream was far more sound than vision.

As she woke, she found herself dazed in dreammusic not ending.

In fact, as she woke, the wonder of the music steadily became even more spellbinding than the tones she had heard in her sleep.

When her mind finally felt the cold stone of the bleachers under her cheek, the brisk tickle of a summerwind on her hand, she skipped a heartbeat to sit up.

This was real!

How was this possible?

Down upon the stage, her boyfriend was playing the piano.

Only the way he was playing was unlike any playing she had ever heard before. The notes spiraled together into chords which intertwined into harmonies that were sounds she never knew were possible.

This was like hearing a violin for the first time.

No.

More than that.

This was like becoming the incarnate music of the violin itself. The soul of the listener woven from the very fabric of the sound. Somehow, these notes, this music, resonated in her like nothing else ever had. No harmony in the universe had ever sounded like that.

Long ago, it was said that the universe was created by a sound.

Brandy wondered if these were the tones responsible for conjuring all of existence.

Just when it seemed the music could become no more heartbreaking or inspiring, Mike began to sing.

Only this time, he wasn’t singing an old Frank Sinatra song.

This time, he sang tones. Notes. Musical phrases.

And he was able to sing a harmony with the piano in that same range as the sound which gave birth to the earth and stars.

Brandy wept.

She wept like a child. Like a bride on her wedding day. Like a mother holding her newborn for the first time. Like a grandmother who has lost her lifelong husband. Every joy and sorrow of humanity was encapsulated in this music. Nothing she had ever heard in her life was more moving, more heartfelt, more magical.

As the notes faded, she could not cease crying.

Mike saw her in the seats, terrified that something awful had happened to her.

He jumped away from the piano bench, leapt off the stage, and sprinted up the bleachers, calling her name.

“Brandy? Brandy! Are you okay!? Brandy!”

She nodded and waved him off, but still trying to regain her composure.

At last, he made it to her side, “Brandy?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Give me a moment.” She managed to say between gulps of air.

“What happened?” Mike asked.

She started catching her breath, “That music. Mike, that music. How did you do that? I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

Brandy was still sobbing between her words.

Mike wiped her tears.

“Shhh. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I, well, that was my last gift to mankind. I wanted to make something no one had ever heard before. A sound that never existed.” Mike explained.

Brandy shook her head in awe. “That will change the world, Michael. What you have done will change the world.”

Mike beamed. He had done it. The Wand had done it.

In that moment, he decided he’d donate $16 million to charity. He’d keep only $3 million for himself to run his studio and amphitheater. This was all he needed. Anything more was frivolous.

§

If The Wand had a personality, it would be thinking, “Oh, not again.”

Mike and Brandy screamed as it floated above their bed and lit up the room.

“What is that!?” Brandy yelled.

As with all the previous owners, Mike grabbed it, the light went out. He carried it to the closet and stuffed it in the back.

The moment he laid back down, light blared into the room again.

“Jeez!” Brandy groaned.

“Okay. Okay. I get it!” Mike said, grabbing The Wand.

Brandy sat up. “What’s going on?”

“Three days. I have to get rid of it.”

“Now?”

Mike shrugged at The Wand in his hand, “It’s apparently kind of insistent.”

Brandy began to get up, “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. You want to be nice to me, make me breakfast for when I get home.”

“You coming right back?”

“Right back. I promise.”

“Where you taking it?”

“Like I said, I’m putting it right back where I found it.” He kissed her and walked out of the bedroom as he scratched his butt with one hand carried The Wand with the other.

§

“Oh, crap.” Mike whispered.

The coyote had come out of nowhere and stared at him on the hiking trail. Anyone who knows even a little bit about wildlife can tell you, a coyote will typically run from a human being. Only when they are starved do they get a little psychotic and a lot more brave.

This one wasn’t running.

“Crap. Crap. Crap.” Mike whispered. He stood firm.

The coyote growled.

“Damnit.” This whisper the quietest of all.

Mike clutched The Wand with both hands, ready to strike in case the coyote came after him. Coyotes usually travel alone, but he didn’t want to take a chance. He glanced up and down the hill, a quick gaze over his shoulder using his peripheral vision. No other coyotes as far as he could tell.

Thinking Mike was distracted, the coyote charged.

Mike bent his knees, ready to fight. “Oh, crap!” He didn’t whisper that time.

As the coyote ran towards him, Mike swung The Wand. Not to hit the coyote, just hoping to frighten it away. The coyote stopped only a few feet away. So close, Mike could smell his musk and the dust in his fur.

The coyote lunged.

Again, Mike swung The Wand.

As it arced in front of the coyote, the animal jumped and bit The Wand, locking it in his jaw.

“Damnit! No!” Mike yelled.

The coyote ripped it from Mike’s hands and it fell to their feet.

Mike was defenseless.

He backed away. Slowly. One step.

The coyote grabbed The Wand in his maw and ran off down the trail.

“Crap! No! Get back here!”

But it was too late.

The Wand had vanished down a steep chaparral trail that only a coyote could descend. Mike never saw the coyote or The Wand again.

Chapter Five

The coyote carried The Wand less than a quarter mile away from the trail where he had stolen it from Mike.

As he trotted proudly down the path, The Wand brushed up against rock and chaparral and nearly came dislodged from his mouth multiple times.

Finally, rounding a bend, The Wand whacked a boulder, was pulled from the coyote’s grip, and tumbled down the mountainside. The coyote stood on the hilltop, pacing back and forth, looking to see where his prize had fallen. However, try as he might, the coyote couldn’t see any sign of The Wand. The cliff over which it had plummeted was far too steep and high for even a coyote to climb down.

§

The Wand landed next to an earthmover driven by Julio Sanchez, who was part of the construction crew on the 405 freeway, only one minute before he arrived at work that morning.

Julio always liked to get to work early.

He took great pride in his job.

To some people on his crew, it was just a paycheck.

To him, it was much more.

You see, to Julio Sanchez, building that highway was his small part of changing history. With that road completed, more people could travel the route from the Valley to the Basin. It would carry ambulances to save the life of a child who grows up to be a great leader of men. It would carry workers to jobs where they would innovate new technologies to enhance the life of all mankind. It would carry police vehicles to stop terrible crimes. It would carry firefighters to save a home.

All of that would happen faster and safer thanks to Julio doing good work at his job.

He knew he was a very small piece in a very big puzzle, but he was grateful for the opportunity to play a part and that is why he took his job seriously and did it with great pride.

That’s why he came to work early each day.

He loved the serenity of the mountains before all the morning rush hour traffic began. He loved the majesty of the massive walls they were constructing to hold back the gargantuan hillside and widen the lanes of the highway. When the sun had just come up, he could savor the sights and sounds of this glorious valley and imagine how tribes walked this land centuries ago. He wondered how much of it they would still recognize. Which ridges hadn’t changed versus the ones molded by hundreds of tons of steel and thousands of pounds of torque and horsepower.

The construction process would still take another two years, hauling behemoth quantities of rock and stone away from the carved mountainside and laying endless truckloads of concrete for mile after mile of highway. Good job security for years to come.

Sipping his coffee, he spotted The Wand, propped against the ladder of his Caterpillar.

At first, he thought it was just some stick, a treebranch that had perhaps fallen off the cliff above. Then he spotted the placard and The Three Rules.

That seemed like a weird thing.

One of the guys must have left it there as a joke.

“Wouldn’t that be sweet?” He said aloud. “Could use you to finish the whole road.” Holding it over his head, he joked, “Sim sala bim!”

Coffee shot out of his cup and dumped on him like rain as he threw The Wand from the terrifying burst of green light.

What happened next was beyond anything Julio could have imagined.

The earth rumbled like an earthquake.

The entire width of the 405 highway doubled in size, the two mountain ranges physically pulling further away from each other and new earth magically appearing between the peaks.

All the unfinished retaining walls built themselves. Within seconds, light of neon green blazed over the hillsides, leaving perfectly wrought concrete and steel structures to secure the mountains.

Sepulveda, the road which ran parallel to the highway, slid over and widened as well. The bridges over the highway extended themselves and all became reinforced to exceed safety specifications that wouldn’t be invented for another half a century. Cars screeched to a halt and drivers watched in awe as the road grew of its own volition. Vehicles upon the 405, although there was little traffic at that time of the morning, also slowed to a crawl. Drivers pulled off the road, whipping out cellphones to capture images of the self-constructing mountain walls and the road which expanded as effortlessly as the mountains breathing in a sigh.

Every meter of the road was equipped with pressure plates designed to generate electricity and were wired directly back into the main grid of the city providing hundreds of thousands of kilowatt hours of power each day - a technology that was never supposed to be incorporated into the roadway.

The entire process, from the moment Julio touched The Wand to the moment everything was finished, took less than 30 seconds to complete.

The entire 405 freeway was now 10 lanes wide on each side.

Every inch of every square foot of roadway and retaining walls and signage were all built of meticulous quality and brilliance.

Every piece of construction equipment vanished, including Julio’s earthmover. He was left standing all alone at the side of the road, covered in coffee, a magic staff in one hand, and a spilled cup at his feet.

Staring at The Wand, he threw it at the mountain and ran towards his car.

Wait, he thought.

If anyone saw what he just did, they might track down his fingerprints on The Wand!

Moments later, he ran back, grabbed The Wand, and took it with him to his car. Racing home as fast as he could, he took the sidestreets. No way he was driving on that freaky magic highway.

§

“Julio? Is that you, papi? Wa happin’? Why you home so early? You forget you lunch?” Marie, Julio’s wife asked from the living room.

Her husband didn’t even hear her.

He was in a panic, closing blinds, pretending he wasn’t home. Scurrying around. Freaking out.

“Julio? Julio! What are you doing?” Marie asked again, this time with a bit more concern in her voice for she could see his consternation.

By the time Julio got home, he knew his wife would never believe him. He had already planned to fake being ill.

“My stomach. I’m not feeling good. I threw up when I got there. See the coffee all over my shirt? I think I just need to stay home and rest.” Julio felt awful lying to his wife, but telling her the truth, she’d think he was loco.

“Oh, baby. Why you close the blinds?” Maria asked.

“Uh, headache too.”

“Oh, migraine? You want me to stay home with you?” Maria rubbed his shoulder affectionately.

“No, no, Maria. I’ll be fine. You go to work. I’ll just lay down awhile.” He patted her away, but gingerly.

“You sure?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Go. Your papi will be fine.” He clasped his forehead in his hands, faking a headache.

“Okay. I come home at lunch to see how you doing?”

“Okay. That would be nice.” Julio kissed his wife and his lips burned a little for his lies, but they were little white lies, so it was only like mild cilantro.

§

Julio really did go back to bed. That wasn’t a lie.

He had no idea what else to do.

He called work and left a message that he wouldn’t be in. It was still early enough that no one was in the main office at his company.

He just wanted to pretend this hadn’t happened. The entire crew would kill him when they found out! The contract! Two years of work! They would all be out of jobs now, thanks to him and that crazy wizard staff. How was he supposed to know it was real!? He was only kidding when he told The Wand to finish all the construction. How was he supposed to know it would work!?

“Julio!” Maria yelled for her husband from the livingroom.

He stirred, slowly waking to her voice.

“Julio!” Maria burst into the bedroom. “Julio come see the news! Quick!”

“What?” Julio asked, still half asleep.

“It’s about your construction site on the 405! You have to see!” Maria rushed back out of the bedroom, not wanting to miss a moment of the noon news report. “Come on, Julio! It’s important!” Her voice called, muffled down the hall.

Julio was half hoping it had all been a dream.

It hadn’t.

Sure enough, every local news channel was reporting the same thing, an astonishing transformation of the 405 and Sepulveda Pass.

Not only had more than 2 years of work been completed overnight, but extra lanes, that couldn’t possibly have fit in the width of the pass, were somehow created too.

Geologists and cartographers had mapped out the expansion more than a dozen times since the reports were first taken seriously at about 9:00am. Their report was the most astonishing of all.

Apparently, the entire city of Los Angeles had actually shifted east by nearly 100 feet, out into the Mojave desert. That is where the extra space came from between the mountains. Thousands upon thousands of square miles of land actually moved.

Oddly enough, this caused no earthquakes or damage to any known structures. But most perplexing of all, every single connection in and out of the city, from irrigation conduits to electrical lines to sewage pipes had all grown in size as well, shifting as far as 100 feet to compensate for the movement of the ground.

“Dear God.” Julio cried. “What have I done?”

“What have you done?” Maria asked, uncertain of what her husband meant. “Did you see? There’s no more construction. And all the trucks are back at their garages. Did you drive your earthmover back?”

“No! I didn’t drive it.” Julio was about to add, The magic wand did it.

He kept his mouth shut instead.

“Baby?” Julio said. “I have something to tell you.”

“What? I’m making you a sandwich for lunch. You feeling better? You want one too?”

“I, no, honey. Let me show you.” Julio went back out to the car and brought The Wand inside.

Maria was eating a sandwich, but still glued to the television. “Julio, this is amazing! You feeling better? You should get down there. You going down there?” Seeing The Wand, she asked between sandwich bites, “What is that?”

“Maria, now, you must promise me you will not get scared.”

“Scared of what? Are you feeling better?”

“Maria, I did what is on the news.”

“You did what? What do you mean?”

“I changed the highway. This morning. Before everyone else got to work.”

“You changed it?” Maria laughed, “Julio. Don’t be silly. How did you do all the work by yourself? You didn’t change it.”

“I can prove it.”

“Prove it how?” Maria was amused, but didn’t understand where he was headed by making such a weird joke.

Julio had an unfinished patio out in back of their house. The classic case of a husband who began a remodeling job which he never completed. Maria was on his case to get it done all the time.

“Okay, honey. You know how you want me to finish the patio?”

“Yes.” Maria said, standing by the kitchen doorway, confused by Julio’s behavior.

Julio raised The Wand and said, “Finish the patio. Sim sala bim!”

“What?” Maria laughed at him and his silly theatrics.

Then, the moment she laughed, green light burst from The Wand and flooded the Sanchez family yard.

§

Maria Sanchez felt the smack on her cheek and got a whiff of smelling salts Julio had under her nose. “Wake up, baby!”

Maria blinked and the patio was still there.

Marble. Fountains. Garden paths. Her favorite flowers. A white gazebo sprinkled with ivy.

“Maria? Are you okay?” Julio asked.

“No.” Maria said, her voice growing stronger, “No, Julio! That is the Devil’s staff! God does not make things like that!”

As she rose to her feet, she backed away from The Wand, frightened.

“Maria! No. Don’t talk crazy. It does good things! It’s no Devil staff.”

“Yes it is! I want that evil out of my house! You hear me, Julio Sanchez!? You get that out of this house right now!” Maria stormed off out of the kitchen and slammed the bedroom door.

“Maria!” Julio knew better than to chase after her, lest he have something hurled at his head.

As Julio checked out the patio, his wife stormed through the house.

He chased after her as she ran to the car with a suitcase.

“Maria! What are you doing?”

Maria pointed an accusatory finger at her husband. “You need to put everything back the way you found it! I’m not using no gazebo made by the Devil! Until you throw away that Devil staff, I’m not living in this house!”

“Maria! Maria! Come on, baby! Don’t be like - ”

With that, she already raced out of the driveway, headed off to stay with her mother. Julio didn’t even ask. He knew that’s where she was going. She always packs the same suitcase everytime.

Julio went back in the house.

Maybe his wife was right.

Maybe he should just put everything back the way it was and throw that crazy staff in the trash. After all, what about all those men who would be out of work since he finished the highway?

From the kitchen, the newscast was wrapping up their special report as the field reporter said, “One thing is for sure, lots of residents are happy and grateful that the 405 highway has gone from one of the most congested in the nation, to one of the most pleasant drives on the Los Angeles roadways. Back to you, Ron.”

Julio looked at the project proposals on his kitchen table.

He didn’t take long to think about what he needed to do next.

§

Julio parked his car along the Pacific Coast Highway just after sunset.

Checking the coast was clear, he walked out to the cliffside and down a steep path to the beach, finding a secluded outcropping of rocks where he could hide.

The Wand in one hand.

In his other was the prototype proposal for a desalination plant. The Holy Grail of public works projects for Los Angeles since the founding of the city. How to make a desert no longer rely on imported water? Impervious to droughts? Instead, just use the largest water source on the entire planet - the Pacific Ocean.

The Wand was pointed at the sea.

I hope this works, Julio thought.

“Sim sala bim!”

§

By the time the green light had faded, not only had The Wand created more than a dozen underwater oceanic inlets for the desalination process, it built automated pumping stations and underground rainwater cisterns at multiple decommissioned sites all around the city.

In addition to reworking the entire water system, every single pipe, from main conduits and sewage systems right back to the smallest copper tubing in every building, hundreds of thousands of miles, were turned from old metals and concrete into pure titanium - some main conduits with walls as much as 6 inches thick.

The upgraded system was created in seconds, and would easily last for two more centuries, if not longer. Unlike traditional desalination plants which require two gallons of brine to produce one gallon of drinking water, this system was a perfect one-to-one ratio which only output a waste material of sea salt, resalable for cooking or road maintenance in cold climates. Not only could the system run itself, it could earn a profit. Since all the pipes were underground and buried within walls of buildings, and the pumping stations were all at isolated locations, citizens of the city were oblivious to the fact that Los Angeles suddenly had the purest and most endless supply of drinking water, of any city, on the face of the earth.

Julio saw the light flash into the ocean, but wasn’t sure what else was changed. Once he jumped back in his car and drove to one of the pumping station plants, and saw brand new equipment there which he had never seen before, he knew.

The Wand had worked again.

§

Julio was torn by his actions.

He was proud of having done something so good for the city.

Yet, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed, knowing how unhappy his wife would be with him.

Then again, she would never have to know about this.

Maybe he could just put the highway and the patio back the way they were and leave the water system intact?

He wasn’t really sure.

One thing he was certain of was the politics of the city would never allow the desalination plants to be constructed. By doing that project, he wasn’t taking jobs away from any construction firms, because no one would ever be contracted to build such a thing anyway.

Standing at the edge of Mulholland, overlooking the 405, he was still flabbergasted by what he was seeing.

Leaving The Wand in the trunk of his car, he stopped in the local bar for a nightcap. Or two. Or three. Or four.

§

On Thursday morning, Julio awoke to the sound of a trumpet being shoved into his ear by a 17 foot tall gorilla.

Within a few seconds, he realized it was just a hangover and the alarm clock.

He didn’t remember much from the night before.

Beach.

Highway.

Bar.

Not sure how he got home.

He checked the answering machine. No messages.

Made him sad that his wife hadn’t called.

Headed into the bathroom, shuffling his feet as only a hungover gentleman can, the world titled with each step. Flicking on the light, he groaned at the brightness and immediately shut it off. As he sat on the toilet, he thought he was seeing things when glancing over at the piping under the freestanding sink.

The hue of the metal was slightly different.

The copper tubing seemed to be something else entirely.

He shrugged it off.

Eyes playing tricks.

As he prepared his morning coffee, he began to seriously consider calling off work again. His head was throbbing and half the time he was standing in the kitchen, he kept thinking he was still back in bed.

Perhaps driving to work was a bad idea.

Then again, he shouldn’t take too much time off, especially if he’s not genuinely ill.

Since there was no longer a job for him to report to at the highway, he decided to travel to the main offices in Van Nuys and find out if he’d be reassigned to another project.

§

“Julio! How are you feeling?” Selena, the office secretary asked.

“I’m feeling better.” Julio lied. “I saw the news about the 405 yesterday. I was wondering what I’d be assigned to do today.”

From inside the offices, a lot of arguing could be heard. The voices were muffled and unclear. Julio wasn’t sure what the fighting was about.

Selena nodded, “You’re still on the 405 project. Kenny is still the foreman and he had a new trailer brought out to the site to act as homebase. All the gentlemen on the crew are still reporting to work, but they are now doing inspections of the elements they were responsible to construct, to make sure all the construction is still up to code.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. The news made it seem like everything was done, but due to our legal obligations, there’s still a ton of work to do. We still need to make sure no walls fall down and no bridges collapse.”

“Are there closures then?”

Selena jerked a thumb toward the office where the raised voices carried from. “Yes. The city planner and the lawyers and everyone are fighting about that right now. The city obviously doesn’t want to pay for work that’s already done, but the company doesn’t want to be liable for work we didn’t supervise. So, the whole thing is a big mess right now. We’re doing minimal closures, but the public obviously won’t stand for very many.”

Julio was starting to panic.

Maria was right.

This was all his fault.

He should have put things back last night.

Rushing back out of the office, he made a noise at Selena that vaguely sounded like, “Thanks.”

§

When Julio reached the site, Kenny assigned him to check on some exit and entrance ramps near the 405/10 interchange.

Driving to the site, the panic grew worse.

He was going to get caught.

His wife was right.

He had to get rid of this thing.

Once he parked, he took The Wand out of the trunk of his car. He had to bring it with him. If he had left it at home and Maria came back and found it, who knows what she would do?

He was going to wedge The Wand between the two bridge rails and try to snap it in half, then he’d throw it in the ocean after work.

“Julio? You okay, man? You look like crap.” His buddy Sergio asked as they walked up the edge of a ramp.

Julio jumped about 25 feet in the air.

“Jeezus! Where’d you come from?” Julio asked.

“I parked right over there. Kenny wants me to help you inspect the end of ramp 3A over here.” Sergio squinted, “I was calling you. Didn’t you hear me?”

Julio was so hungover and paranoid, he hadn’t even noticed.

“You don’t look so good.” Sergio commented again.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Julio lied again.

“Did you see what you missed yesterday!? It was all over the news!” Sergio asked, waving his arm at the completed construction, “This is loco, no?”

Even half-drunk, Julio knew that was a stupid question.

How could he not know?

“Yeah. I saw. I saw, Sergio. That’s why I came to the offices first.”

“Oh! Right. Right. Crazy, huh?”

“Pretty loco.” Julio acknowledged, his brow already sweating as they walked.

“What’s with the big stick?” Sergio asked.

The men didn’t even make it 50 feet before a news van showed up.

Damnit.

This was why Julio didn’t want this assignment. The berth on the sides of the highway as the spaghetti mix of ramps converged made this one of the easiest and safest places for traffic to stop at the side of the road. Perfect place for a news crew ambush.

They would know.

They would find out.

Maybe someone saw him leave the scene yesterday.

Maybe someone saw him last night at the beach.

Why did he go to the beach and cast another spell?

That was stupid!

“Sir! Excuse me!” The woman reporter called out.

Julio ignored her and kept walking.

Sergio patted his shoulder, “Julio. Check it out!”

“Excuse me! Gentlemen! Cable News Team! Can we ask you gentlemen a few questions?” The lady yelled out.

Sergio stopped.

Julio tried to keep walking.

This was a nightmare.

Should he just throw The Wand over the bridge? No. Might hit a car. What was he going to do with it?

“Julio. Check this out, man!” Sergio called.

Sergio walked towards the reporter.

“Sir!” The reporter called to Julio. “You too. May I ask you something?”

Turning back to face the reporter, Julio smiled.

“I wanted to get your reaction to this strange incident of the highway being finished overnight.”

“Our reaction?” Sergio said.

“Yes. Do you have any explanation?”

“No. No. I don’t have none.”

“Well, there has been some outlandish speculation among the public and in the media. Upgrades to the fire departments. Changes to local skateparks. All projects that would take months of work, seemingly happen overnight. Some are saying this is magic.”

“Magic? There’s no such things as magics.” Sergio chuckled.

Julio didn’t know it at the time, but the hangover he was experiencing would be the last one he ever had. Because, what he decided to do next, he doesn’t think he would have ever done if he hadn’t been drinking. No, had he been sober, he never would have done something so stupid.

In the years to come, Maria would be sure to never let her husband forget, this was truly the most “estúpido” thing he had ever done.

As he stared at the news reporter, she reminded him of Sister Mary Jane - one of the young, beautiful nuns he had back in parochial school.

“Confession is good for the soul.” Sister Mary Jane would tell him.

Everytime there was an incident where Julio was being a little brat, and there were many of them, he’d hear that same phrase.

“Confession is good for the soul.”

“Confession is good for the soul, Julio.”

“You know, confession is good for the soul.”

“Pardon me?” The newscaster asked, her microphone pointed at Julio.

“You know what Sergio?” Julio wriggled his finger in the air, “There actually is such a thing as magics.”

The newscaster was a former schoolteacher and wanted desperately to correct them for making the word “magic” plural.

She said nothing.

Instead, she said, “So you think it was magic?”

“I can prove it.”

“You can?” The newscaster wanted a serious story, not some half-in-the-bag Latino man mocking her. This was clearly a mistake to start talking to these guys.

“Yes, ma’am. You see that building over there?” Julio pointed.

Some frat boys drove past in a sedan. “Woohoo! Nice boobs!”

The comment bounced off the woman like a jelly candy. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t leave a mark. But it always left that slight stickiness which was gross until you cleaned it off.

“Yes, sir. I see it.”

Julio pointed to a dilapidated auto repair shop. Only a few dozen feet away, just below the onramp at Sepulveda. They were clearly still in business, but they were doing extensive remodeling. Scaffolding was up and partial walls and roofs were missing. A job that was obviously going to take many weeks, if not months, to finish.

“Okay, watch this.” Julio said, raising up The Wand. At the last minute, he said to the cameraman, “You getting all this in your shot? Get me and the building?”

The cameraman gave a thumbs-up.

Sergio was smirking.

The newscaster was about ready to thank them for their time and leave.

“Sim sala bim!” Julio yelled.

Light blasted out of the end of The Wand in the most spectacular display of pyrotechnics it had ever exhibited. Looking like some sort of massive cannon blast from a science fiction film, the light broke over the auto shop like an ungodly wave exploding on a rocky coastline.

Cars on the street and highway skidded to a standstill.

The metal crunch of a few bumpers slammed. Horns blared.

Within seconds, the entire auto shop was completed. Scaffolding vanished. The roof and walls assembled themselves. Every speck of dust was washed away by invisible waters.

The cameraman trembled. His face pulled back from the eyepeice.

Were his eyes playing tricks?

He had to see this without a camera lens.

Realizing, yes, it was actually happening, he quickly reframed the image. He almost missed the shot, so shocked by what he was seeing. Sergio let out a noise that was half-scream and almost-a-word and tripped backwards, away from The Wand.

Her jaw on the ground, the newscaster said nothing.

Julio looked directly into the camera. “That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you repair the 405 freeway with magic!” Then he turned to Sergio. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Did you get that!?” The reporter asked the cameraman.

“I got it. I don’t know what the hell I got, but I got it!”

The reporter glanced around. She smirked. Steam hissed from the smashed radiator of the car driven by the catcalling boys.

§

Maria Sanchez came home to a quiet house.

Julio was passed out in the bedroom.

She had seen the news broadcast from earlier that day. The clip had been rebroadcast all night in syndication. Every newspaper was talking about it. Even national news programs. This wasn’t odd local news anymore. The story was everywhere.

The Wand was nowhere to be seen. Convinced Julio wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, Maria started searching the house to find it.

Kitchen. Patio. Car trunk. Under the sofa.

She finally found it, nonchalantly propped against the wall in the hallway closet.

Quietly, carefully, she carried The Wand out to the garage.

Finding a hacksaw, she shoved The Wand into a bench vice and quickly chopped it up into four pieces.

There were a few old iron plates for a long-neglected weightlifting set in the corner. Gathering up all four scraps of wood, she roped each one to a little 2.5 pound dumbell plate.

Stuffing the weights and broken pieces of The Wand into a duffelbag, Maria got in her car and drove out of the Valley to the beach.

Once arriving at the beach, she parked, walked out to the furthest end of Santa Monica pier, opened the duffelbag, and hurled all four pieces of The Wand into the Pacific Ocean.

Crossing herself, she said a little prayer to protect her from any devils seeking retribution, and drove back home.

Climbing into bed, Maria smiled, knowing she just saved her husband from anymore terrible decisions with The Wand.

Julio continued to sleep, none the wiser of what his wife had done.

§

The knock on the door came at 6am on Friday, the very next morning.

Already getting ready for work, Maria couldn’t imagine who would show up so early at the house.

“Yes?” Maria opened the door. “May I help you?”

“Mrs. Sanchez?”

“Yes.”

Badges were flashed. “Good morning, ma’am. Agent Trappett. Agent Miller. FBI. We’d like to ask your husband a few questions.”

“My husband? What for?”

“Is he available, Mrs. Sanchez?” The agent seemed perturbed, but wasn’t rude in his questioning. If anything, they really didn’t seem like they wanted to be there.

“Certainly.” Maria said. “He’s here.”

“May we come in?”

“What’s this all about?”

Agent Miller shut his eyes and waved her off, apologetically. “Ma’am, I understand it can be unsettling to have the FBI knocking on your door at this hour. We assure you, your husband is not in any sort of trouble. We just want to ask him some things about the news broadcast he was in yesterday afternoon.” Agent Miller explained, still sounding almost embarrassed to talk about it.

“I understand. Yes, please, please, come in.” Maria stepped aside and led the FBI agents into her kitchen.

Maria excused herself and woke her husband.

“Maria! You’re home! Oi, I’ve missed you.”

“Julio. Listen to me!”

“I’m so sorry about what I did. I’m being stupid. I - ”

“- Shut up, Julio!” Maria commanded in a whisper through gritted teeth. “Listen to me! There are FBI agents here to see you.”

“FBI agents!? For me? What for?”

“I don’t know. They’re in the kitchen right now.”

“The kitchen!?” Julio whispered back, his eyes flaring to balloons. He started to panic. He was going to be arrested. Not by the police, but by the FBI. This was even worse! Federal agents? Oh, no! They would lock him away and no one would ever see him again. A magic wand? Of course the government would want to get their hands on that. And he just showed off with it on a local news broadcast!? Probably international by this point!

What was he thinking?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He was still hungover when he did it. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

That stupid guilt trip about confession rattled in his head.

Oh, why did he do that!?

He should have kept his mouth shut and listened to his wife!

Now he’ll be locked away in a federal prison for life!

Julio was stone cold sober now, and he was terrified.

What was he going to do?

“Get out here!” Maria backed out of the bedroom and motioned from the hallway.

Time to face the consequences.

Confession is good for the soul.

Not so good for staying out of jail.

§

Julio met the men in his robe.

“Good morning. What is this all about?” Julio asked.

“Good morning. Mr. Sanchez? I’m Agent Trappett. This is Agent Miller.”

Handshakes all around.

“I’m going to be blunt with you, Mr. Sanchez,” Agent Trappett explained. “We don’t even want to be here.”

“May we sit?” Agent Miller asked, motioning to the chairs.

That made Julio relax, slightly. If they were sitting, they wouldn’t be slapping cuffs on him and arresting him. Yet.

“Of course. Make yourself comfortable, gentlemen.” Julio said, trying to sound magnanimous.

“Would you like some coffee?” Maria asked.

“No, ma’am. Thank you. I’m sure you know why we’re here, Mr. Sanchez.” Agent Trappett said.

“Please, call me Julio.”

“Sure. Julio, as I’m sure you know, there have been some very strange things happening around the city these past few days. Lots of reports on the news about unexplained... changes, to the city parks and some fire departments.” Agent Miller explained.

Agent Trappett added, “Yes, and now, of course the 405 highway has been similarly ‘changed’ overnight. The highway which you were working on.”

“Yes, I’ve seen a few things on television.” Julio tried to sound clueless.

Agent Trappett nodded, “Okay. And you’ve been on television. Well, my partner and I have been assigned to investigate some of these incidents.”

“While none of the things can be explained, your appearance on the news last evening raised a lot of questions.” Agent Miller said. The way they were bantering was making Julio nervous again.

Agent Trappett, seeing the fear in Julio’s eyes, quickly reassured him, “Now, Julio, we have no plans to arrest you. Nothing like that.”

Maria visibly relaxed.

“Okay. That’s good to know.” Julio said, his posture also softening.

Agent Trappett added, not unkindly, “Ordinarily we would be taking you in for questioning, regarding the incidents at the 405 highway.”

“Yes, but we’re not even going to do that.”

“Frankly, the whole thing was so outlandish and impossible that we know it’s clearly some kind of hoax. Special effects. We don’t know. Frankly, we don’t much care. We just need to prove that we’re taking every lead seriously. That’s why we’re here today, Mr. Sanchez.” Agent Trappett lapsed back into the formal surname.

Julio finally realized what was happening.

He wasn’t in trouble at all.

Just like those times with Sister Mary Jane, he confessed to everything, but no one believed him! He showed The Wand on the news, but no one figured it was real. Everyone thought it was some kind of trick. This was perfect!

Agent Miller joked, “We aren’t going to spend the rest of our careers being known as the agents who brought the Mexican ‘wizard’ in for questioning.”

Everyone in the room laughed.

Julio looked at Maria, exchanging glances of relief with one another.

He still didn’t know what his wife had done with The Wand.

“I presume then, you know nothing about how the expansion of the 405 was completed so quickly, Mr. Sanchez?”

Julio didn’t lie when he shook his head and said, “I don’t understand it either. I’m just as shocked and confused as everyone else.”

“So, your claim of being responsible was not true. And that crazy stunt on the news was a hoax?”

“Of course!” Julio lied. “There was no magic. I just didn’t know people would take it so seriously!” Julio forced an awkward laugh, trying to sound lighthearted. The agents were confused. Julio was obviously lying, but the alternative was so outlandish, they couldn’t imagine The Wand was real.

“Do you still have The Wand?” Agent Trappett wondered.

Julio tensed. What if they asked him to perform magic with it? Could he “fake it”, so The Wand wouldn’t do anything? Wait. Maybe he didn’t have to worry about it. As long as the request wasn’t “in his profession”, he was sure it wouldn’t work. Maybe they’d just ask him to conjure some strawberries, and it would fail, and he’d be fine. He took a step to leave the room. “Uh, yes. It’s just over in the hallway closet. I can go grab - ”

“ - No, baby. It’s not there.” Maria corrected him, stopping him by his arm.

“Where is it?”

“I threw it away.”

“You did what!?” Julio said in a panic. “Where? When!”

“Last night while you were sleeping. At the Santa Monica pier.”

Julio glared, furious, but toning down his anger. He didn’t want to scream at his wife too severely. There were a pair of FBI agents in the room after all. “What!? Why did you do that!?”

“I knew after last night on the news, that thing was nothing but trouble. I didn’t want anyone bothering us, trying to find it.” Maria explained, then glanced at the FBI agents, “No offense.”

Agent Miller looked at Julio, “Mr. Sanchez, this was all an elaborate hoax anyway. Right? We need to question the reporter and her cameraman next, but it will make our day a lot easier if you can confirm none of this was real.”

The tone in his voice was exhausted and irritated. Clearly, the agents were tired of getting nowhere in this case. They didn’t want to waste their time with some prankster trying to make all these weird construction feats seem like magic.

“Yes,” Maria interjected. Nodding at her husband.

Julio got the hint. “Yes, of course. I mean, I wanted to, uh, keep the prop. I can’t believe Maria threw it away!”

“I figured the publicity would be too much. I didn’t want people breaking in our house trying to steal it or something, after they saw the news.” Maria lied. She was smart enough to pretend it was a hoax too.

“So, we can tell our boss there was no magic wand.” Agent Trappett smirked, his disbelief clearly tempering his voice.

“No.” Julio said, “No magic wands.”

“You don’t think I’d throw out a real magic wand!?” Maria thought fast and gave a convincing laugh. “I’d keep that for myself!”

The agents managed a few chuckles as well and excused themselves, “Thank you both for your time.”

“Yes, thank you.” Agent Miller said.

They never asked what the hoax on the news was all about. Promoting a movie? Some kind of marketing campaign? A new viral advertising effort for a magic act or the construction company? They didn’t want to know. All they knew was, they didn’t want to order the Coast Guard to start dredging the Santa Monica coastline for a magic wand. This whole thing was so preposterous. Being ordered to follow up on this was a task the agents regretted every step of the way.

“We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.” Agent Trappett held out his hand, “My card.” The navy blue business card was from the main Federal Bureau of Investigation offices on Wilshire Boulevard.

Julio took the card, thanked the agents, and saw them to the door.

§

“How did they find you?” Maria whispered angrily.

“How did they find me? They’re the FBI! Why did you throw away The Wand without telling me?” Julio whispered back, wanting to yell, but not daring to do so until the agents were out of earshot.

“I told you to throw that thing away! You didn’t listen to me. Now look what you did! The police are coming to our door! I told you that magic staff come from the Devil! Bringing bad things into our home!” Maria was shaken. Her fear of The Wand, the stress of destroying it herself, the terror that demons might come pouring out of it when she cut it in half, all was too much for her to handle.

She spoke of none of those fears.

Julio saw them in her trembling hands.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. You were right. You were right all along. I never should have touched that thing. From the second I found it, I should have left it alone. I’m glad you got rid of it. You did the right thing.” Julio tried to reassure her. He didn’t want her storming off to her mother again.

Maria was having none of it, “I know I did the right thing! You are the one who did something bad. Not me!”

“Honey, I’m sorry!” Julio implored her and was truly heartfelt. He wasn’t apologizing just to be nice or diplomatic. He genuinely regretted disobeying her and all the trouble he caused as a result.

He should have restored the highway and gotten rid of The Wand himself. Just like she told him.

“Don’t ‘honey’ me!” Maria stomped out of the room with all the grace and decorum of a spoiled child.

Julio didn’t argue.

Didn’t chase after her.

He knew this was time to just let her be mad. The simple fact that she came home and slept in the same bed next to him meant, she was already forgiving him. He just had to let her be angry for awhile longer.

Another knock at the front door.

The agents must have forgotten something.

Julio opened the door. “Yes, can I - ? - ”

It wasn’t the FBI.

These were two different men. Large men with red hair and berets. One man held a breifcase.

“Mehster Sunchez?” One man spoke with a thick Irish accent. “My name is Connor MacDougal. This is my associate, Mehster Duncan. May we be taulkin’ with ye a moment?”

Julio was having a hard time understanding Connor. These men didn’t have the same demeanor as the FBI agents. Julio knew Connor and Mister Duncan were coming into his house if he invited them or not.

“What can I do for you?” Julio asked.

“Oh, it’s reghardin’ the little spot of you on the news the ohther evenin’. Just wanted to have a bit of a chat, ’tis all.” Connor stepped forward and Mister Duncan rested his hand inside the door jamb.

Julio got the message.

“Oh, that! Certainly. Come on in.” Julio motioned for the men to enter and made sure he let them walk in first. He didn’t want them at his back.

Damn, he thought, Maria was right.

Why didn’t I listen to her?

“Just head right on back to the kitchen.” Julio pointed.

The men walked back and stopped at the patio doors.

“Mister Sanchez,” Connor said, his accent getting much easier for Julio to understand, “We’ll get right to the point.”

Mister Duncan set the briefcase on the kitchen table and opened it.

Inside was an enormous sum of money. Julio wasn’t sure how much.

“Mister Sanchez, that is $10,000. My employer would like to pay you this money in fair exchange for the staff you used on the news the other day.”

“The staff?”

“Yes, Mr. Sanchez.”

“Well, I don’t have it.” Julio explained, his heart starting to pound. He knew they wouldn’t believe him. According to The Three Rules, it wouldn’t work for someone if he sold it to them either. But, Julio wasn’t about to explain all of that to them. Trying to explain The Three Rules would just sound like some other poor excuse.

“You don’t have it?” Connor sighed. Mister Duncan closed the briefcase. Connor put his arm around Julio’s shoulders, “Mr. Sanchez, do you know who my employer is?”

“No. No, sir.” Julio didn’t much care what happened to him. Now, he was only worried about Maria.

“My employer is Mr. Dennis McHan.”

“Dinny McHan?” Julio knew the name well. Anyone involved in construction in any given city knows the names of prominent leaders of unorthodox organizations.

“That’s right,” Connor nodded. Julio noted his cologne smelled too sharp. Needles in your sinuses. “Now, Mr. McHan, he wants that staff. He saw what it can do. He told us to come over here and purchase it from you. Like civilized people.”

Mister Duncan smiled warmly at Julio.

Julio smiled back. “I see.”

Connor stepped away and continued, “However, Mr. McHan also made it very clear that we would be returning with your staff by any means necessary.”

Julio’s smile fell.

The back of his neck was getting hot and his eyes felt like they were shriveling to raisins inside his head.

“But I just told you,” Julio stammered, “I don’t have it. It’s not here. My wife threw it into the ocean last night. It’s not around anymore. I would be happy to sell it to you, but I can’t.”

“I see.” Connor replied.

Julio couldn’t read his tone at all. He didn’t seem pleased or upset.

“Personally, Mr. Sanchez, I think this whole thing is a big waste of time and money. I’m sure you’re some kind of charlatan. Some sort of swindler. Whatever happened on the news clearly couldn’t have been the genuine article. But, you see, Mr Sanchez, it doesn’t matter what I think of you. What matters is what Mr. McHan thinks. He says when he was a child, his grandmother told him stories about seeing a wand very similar to the one you had. And he thinks what he saw you do was real. And he wants it.”

“But I don’t have - ! - ”

“ - Do not interrupt me when I’m speaking.” Connor ordered. “Don’t you damn wetbacks have any manners?”

Julio was born and raised in California.

But, he wasn’t about to argue that point with the angry Irish mafia thug in his kitchen.

“Now the easy thing would be for you to hand over the so-called ‘magic wand’, we give you this generous payment, and we are on our way. If you do not agree to these terms, then Mister Duncan and I will be forced to search your home to confirm your story. Let me assure you that we will search your home thoroughly and without regard to keeping your property intact. So, I will ask you one last time, will you please sell us the staff?”

“I’m telling you the truth! I don’t have it. Please, don’t - ”

Connor snapped his fingers.

Mister Duncan ran into the livingroom.

Julio yelled, “What are you - ”

Connor pulled a gun from his jacket and put it to Julio’s head.

“No! No, please!” Julio cried out.

Mister Duncan ransacked the livingroom, throwing furniture to look underneath, tearing pictures off walls in search of safes.

Maria heard the commotion and came bursting out of the bedroom. “What the hell are you - ? - AIEEEEEEEEE!”

Maria screamed and ran back down the hallway.

“The hell was that?” Connor asked.

“Maria!” Julio yelled.

“Get her!” Connor shouted into the livingroom. Mister Duncan ran after Maria.

“No!” Julio begged. “Don’t hurt my wife!” He dared not move, as Connor still had his gun digging into Julio’s temple.

Mister Duncan jiggled the bedroom doorknob. It didn’t open.

Maria screamed inside the room and shouted her husband’s name.

“Maria!” Julio yelled back.

“Shut up!” Connor pistolwhipped Julio, knocking him to the ground.

Mister Duncan slammed his shoulder into the bedroom door, knocking it in.

The second he burst through, a gunshot rang out from the bedroom.

“Maria!”

“Jeezus!” Mister Duncan came running back into the kitchen.

Maria fired two more shots from the .38 caliber revolver they kept on the nightstand.

Mister Duncan grabbed the briefcase and Connor dragged Julio to his feet, keeping the gun on him as he dragged Julio towards the front door.

Maria, still armed with the .38 revolver, peeked out of the bedroom, ran down the hall, looked into the livingroom, and found Connor and Mister Duncan headed toward the front door with Julio their hostage.

“Don’t move!” Connor ordered Maria.

“Julio!” She yelled.

“Drop the gun or I kill your husband.” Connor said in a tone that was far too calm for the situation. He had obviously been in this kind of predicament before and said those words many times. Julio had no doubt the muzzle at his temple had been wiped clean of blood many times.

Maria dropped the gun.

Mister Duncan retrieved it.

Keeping his pistol on Julio, Connor explained, “We have no intention of harming you or your wife, Mr. Sanchez. We know the FBI just paid you a visit. There’s no need to draw their attention to us and thereby to Mr. McHan. We simply want The Wand.”

Connor ordered Mister Duncan to continue.

Ransacking the entire house, they found nothing.

“Thanks for your cooperation.”

Connor threw Julio into the livingroom.

Maria ran to her husband, laying in a heap on the floor.

Taking the briefcase with them, Mister Duncan and Connor MacDougal calmly walked back to their car and sped away from the Sanchez home.

“Julio! Julio, are you okay!?” Maria embraced her husband.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I got the gun right away.” Maria began weeping. “I’m okay. Oh, my love. My love. I thought they would kill you! I thought they would kill my love.”

“I’m okay, corazón. I’m okay.” Julio hugged his wife and kissed her face over and over.

In an instant, Maria pulled back and slapped Julio across the face.

Hard.

Maria yelled, “¡Ay, caramba! Next time I tell you throw away a magic wand, you throw it away! I told you it would bring the Devil to this house!”

§

The very next morning, Saturday, at sunrise, the blinding light of The Wand appeared over the bed of Maria and Julio Sanchez.

Maria’s bloodcurdling scream nearly gave Julio a heart attack.

They both shot up and scrambled out of bed.

Maria stood frozen. Averting her eyes, she was wailing and cussing in Spanish, sheets pulled tight over her chest.

Julio fell back against the dresser, his feet shuffling like a cartoon and spilling him onto his butt.

“You said you threw it in the ocean!”

“I did throw it in the ocean!”

“Why is it back here!?”

“It’s the Devil’s staff! I told you!” Maria began crying, her eyes shut tight. “Señor Jesús, me protege. Tome este mal de nuestra casa!”

Over and over she repeated it.

Lord Jesus, protect me. Take this evil from our house!

Julio grabbed a bedsheet and threw it over The Wand. The moment he grabbed it, the light vanished.

Maria was crying.

Julio set The Wand in the corner with a jolt. Expecting it to start levitating again, he trembled as his hands moved away.

He rushed over to his wife. “Shh. It’s okay. It stopped. Baby, it stopped. Everything is alright. Shh. Calm down, baby. Calm down.”

Maria shrieked between sobs, “Okay!? No, Julio Domingo Sanchez, it is not okay! You get rid of that Devil staff right now! You take it to the church! You give it to the pastor! I want it out of this house right this second!”

Julio did not argue.

“Yes, my love. Right now!” Julio gathered to his feet, stumbling over to The Wand.

“Right this second!” Maria called out. “Do you hear me!? You don’t have breakfast. You don’t get dressed! You don’t put on your shoes. You take it away right now!”

Julio did as he was told.

He grabbed The Wand, rushed downstairs, snatched his car keys, and was out the door in less than 30 seconds.

Maria sat back on the bed, clutching her chest and calming her tears.

§

The closest Roman Catholic church was St. John Baptist de la Salle. As Julio barreled down the road, he decided to take The Wand to Our Lady of Good Counsel instead, a parish located further away. He didn’t want to drive to the opposite side of the city, but he wanted The Wand as far away as he could take it.

He wasn’t sure, but it looked like someone might be following him. Glances into his rearview mirror were sheer terror. FBI? Gangsters? He couldn’t be sure. He was sure if the mafia guys caught him with The Wand, they’d probably kill him.

Flashing back to their assault, a little heartburn kicked up in his stomach. Maria called the police after their attack, but of course they didn’t do much of anything other than take a report. Calling the authorities made Maria feel better, but Julio knew it was a waste of time. Even if Connor and Mister Duncan were arrested, Mr. McHan would bail them out five minutes later.

As he screeched to a halt in the rectory parking lot, Julio ran out of his car, and up to the doorstep.

Just as he was about to ring the bell, he stopped.

What would he say?

“Hello, Father. This magic wand comes from The Devil. Can you please destroy it? Oh, by the way, the FBI and the Irish mafia might come looking for it. Bye!”

Right.

He looked at The Wand.

He read the placard again.

§

You may use the magic wand for 3 days.

You may only use it in your profession.

You must secretly bequeath it to an anonymous stranger.

§

No.

He would follow the directions.

That was the only way to get rid of this thing.

He circled around the back of the rectory.

Within a minute or two, he found an unlocked door by the Parish Center Hall.

Sneaking inside, his bare feet ticking on the linoleum tiles as he nervously hoped no one would spot him, he set The Wand on a table, and ran back to his car as fast as he could.

§

Connor MacDougal swore as he wiped away coffee which Mister Duncan had spilled in the carseat.

They watched Julio rush back to his car, without The Wand.

“Where the bloody hell is it?” Connor said in a panic, clutching his steering wheel and snapping his gaze back and forth across the parish grounds. “He had it with him when he walked up to the door!”

Mister Duncan glanced back at the rectory. “He must have left it with the church.”

“Damnit.” Connor wiped his chin. “Fine. Let’s go talk to a pastor.”

“What about Sanchez?”

Julio had pulled out of the parking lot and was already racing back home to Maria.

“Forget him. He doesn’t matter. We need to find The Wand.”

“We can just ask him where he left it!”

“Did you see the unmarked car on us?”

Mister Duncan turned back in his seat. Peering down through traffic, he saw it. Beige sedan.

Connor continued, “You know those wetbacks called the cops the minute we were out their door. They couldn’t prove a damn thing. But the cops spot us grabbing Sanchez off the street and they’ll be on us faster than shite through a goose. We leave Sanchez go.”

Mister Duncan nodded and adjusted his gun as he reached to open the cardoor.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked. “Leave that here.”

“What?”

Connor pursed his lips. “We’re going to a bloody rectory.”

“So?”

“So? So, leave your piece in the car. We’re not pulling guns on nuns and priests. You insane, man? Want to assure your seat in Hell?”

“Devil’s been coming for us for a long time now.” Mister Duncan noted, grimly.

“Well, let’s not make it any easier for the bastard.”

Chapter Six

Douglas “Mr. Electrico” Bradbury found The Wand, courtesy of a cafeteria lady at Our Lady of Good Counsel church.

As he exited the lavatory, and was making his way back to the stage for his magic show at the school carnival, the woman called out, “Oh, Mr. Electrico! You left your wizard staff on the table.”

Mr. Electrico turned, puzzled, “That’s not mine.”

The woman shrugged, “Well, it can’t stay on the table. I have to set up cupcakes there. You just inherited it!”

Built like one of her fluffy pink cupcakes, she flashed an affable grin.

Mr. Electrico smiled back, “Thank you, ma’am.”

He carried off The Wand.

Thus, Mr. Electrico became the next owner.

§

Connor MacDougal handed a screencapture printout of The Wand, taken from the news broadcast, to Father Daniels. All the news watermarks were removed, but The Wand was clearly visible. “This is an old walking stick that belonged to my grandfather. Was accidentally sold at a garage sale to our neighbor and we think the buyer may have donated it to the church.”

“Well, we are having a raffle and white elephant sale for our carnival today. Lots of people are donating all kinds of things early this morning.”

“I see.”

“It may be here.”

Connor continued, “We stopped by his house before work, to try to catch up with him. Just as we got there, we watched him leave with the stick, and he came here. We saw him walk up to the rectory with it, then he got in his car and drove away without it. So, clearly he left it here somewhere.”

Father Daniels barely glanced at the image. “Well, I’m sorry. As I said, today is our carnival and everyone in the parish has been very busy. I think if someone dropped off a walking stick, it could have easily gotten lost in the shuffle. Feel free to look about.”

“Carnival, you say? Yeah, I can see that. Looks like a nice day for one. Well, you don’t mind if we ask around for it?”

“Not at all. I understand if it belonged to family, it’s important to get it back. Enjoy the carnival, gentlemen. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

§

“Boys and girls! Ladies and gentlemen! For your entertainment, direct from the grand Magic Mansion in Hollywood, we present the charms, the wonderment, the dazzling extravaganza of... Mr. Electricoooo!”

All the lights in the theatre were doused and dropped the room into darkness. The audience hushed.

Blue electricity sparked across the stage a second later, revealing Mr. Electrico in his full suit and tophat. His arms outstretched, he was illuminated by lightning crackles.

Giddy, the audience was a hundred beaming faces of every age.

Cheers and clapping erupted.

From his sleeve, he produced a sword, sparking with light. Touching the tip to the nose of a boy in the front row, he commanded, “Live forever!”

That single moment would inspire the boy for a lifetime.

In the years to come, the boy would do as he was commanded.

“Good afternoon! My name is Mr. Electrico.” He flourished. “Are you prepared to be - amazed?” He asked, as the sword vanished and flashpaper blazed from his hands.

Adults laughed at the old gag.

Children sat in awe at grandeur they had never seen in their lives.

Mr. Electrico bowed and continued his show.

Twenty minutes later, the houselights came up and the first group of kids and parents walked into the sunshine of the carnival, awashed in the showers of delight and wonder, as only magicians can provide.

§

“Oh, wait! I think I did see that earlier today. It was on the table, just over there.” The cafeteria lady told Connor MacDougal as she was cleaning up cupcakes at the end of the day.

At last.

Mister Duncan was ready to give up an hour ago. He was prepared to just go back to Julio Sanchez and beat the location out of him.

Connor insisted they look instead, before someone else snatched it up. Heading back to the Sanchez house would take too long.

Connor was starting to think he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t there. Maybe it was sold. All hope was lost until the cafeteria lady became the one person who finally recognized The Wand.

“Where is it now?” Connor asked, trying hard to sound cordial.

“That nice magician has it. I gave it to him.”

“Magician?”

The cafeteria lady pursed her lips, trying to squeeze the memory back, “Ohh, what was his name? Jeepers, if that don’t beat all. Memory ain’t what it used to be. Too many cupcakes today!” She giggled.

Connor smiled politely, just to mask his rage.

“Well, ma’am, how many magicians were here at the carnival today?”

“Oh, just the one!” The lady nodded. “Now what was his name?”

“Would anyone else know his name?”

“Well, yes. The rectory would have a record of all the vendors we hired. He was performing in the theatre upsta -”

“ - Boss.” Mister Duncan interrupted, pointing at a poster tacked to the wall.

“Oh!” The cafeteria lady startled. “Silly me! There you go!”

Showtimes for that day’s performances of Mr. Electrico.

§

Mr. Electrico was exhausted by the time he got home to his cramped one-bedroom apartment. He smelled like peanuts, cotton candy and reception halls.

After a shower, he switched on the television and flopped onto his couch. Springs squealed a gratifying noise that tells a person they are home safe. The Wand was leaned against an armrest. He’d forgotten all about his cafeteria inheritance. Spotting it laying there, he figured he should find a place to stash it.

As Mr. Electrico picked up The Wand, he noticed the amazing craftsmanship for the very first time. Being in such a rush to start his show, he hadn’t paid much attention when he first picked it up off the cafeteria table. Throughout the day, it just sat backstage. When he was packing up to head home, he nearly forgot all about it.

Now, relaxed, in the nighttime quiet of his bachelor apartment, he noticed the beauty of The Wand in a way he hadn’t seen before.

The wood was almost iridescent in the way it caught light and weaved it into the grain. Reflections sometimes appeared a little deeper inside the wood than should be possible. Amazing, he thought, that the mere texture of wood could be such a wonder to behold.

For the first time, he began to question if he might find a good use for it in his magic act. His fingers twirled the leatherbound brass placard and he read The Three Rules.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Mr. Electrico uttered to no one but the fish in the aquarium of his empty apartment.

Pointing The Wand at his tophat on an endtable, he joked a “Pew!” noise.

A dollop of green fizzing light, smaller than the glob of a popcorn ball, bubbled out of The Wand and splashed into his hat.

A white bunny rabbit hopped out.

Mr. Electrico clamored backwards on the couch and dropped The Wand on the carpet.

“Jeezus!”

As the little bunny scampered onto the couch by Mr. Electrico’s toes, another emerged from the tophat.

“Oh, my God.”

Mr. Electrico jumped to his feet.

The first bunny was now in his spot on the couch, savoring the warm of the cushions. The second bunny jumped off the endtable onto the floor.

“No!”

Mr. Electrico reached for the tophat.

A third bunny jumped out, frightening Mr. Electrico so bad he dropped the hat.

“No! No! No!”

As the tophat hit the floor, it popped out two more bunnies faster than a trailertrash hooker pops out children.

“No! Stop!” Mr. Electrico pointed a stern finger at the tophat and spoke in his stage voice. “I command thee to cease!”

What the hell was he doing?

Command thee to cease?

Where did he get that from?

He didn’t know how to stop this.

Another rabbit emerged.

“NO!”

There were now six rabbits hopping around his couch and knocking things off the table and running off toward the kitchen.

He finally dropped to his knees and grabbed hold of The Wand.

Pointing it at the hat, he yelled, “Stop!”

Green light hit the tophat. A seventh bunny poked his head out, looked at Mr. Electrico, shrugged in a way only a human being should be able to do, and went back into the hat.

Mr. Electrico dropped The Wand, grabbed for the hat again, and it was empty. Just a plain old tophat.

Some dishes clattered in his sink.

“No! No, bunnies!” He yelled, scurrying to grab them.

§

Twenty minutes later, hair unkempt and wet with perspiration, he slumped against the outside of his bathroom door where he had successfully imprisoned the six rabbits.

As he panted to catch his breath, he began to snicker.

A magic wand?

A real magic wand!?

A REAL MAGIC WAND!?

He began to repeat the words out loud. “A magic wand! A real magic wand! Okay. Okay. Calm down. Just calm down. Now... What do I do with this?”

Remembering the placard, he asked, “What did it say? Three days? Was that right? Three days?”

He picked himself up off the floor and scuttled over to The Wand to read The Three Rules again.

When he looked at the display case, containing the sword he used in his stage performance, he got a new idea of something to try with the tophat.

Gingerly setting the hat upon the table, with a sigh, he tapped The Wand to the black felt.

Only a peek of green light trickled out and rolled into the open hat like a droplet of ink into water.

Mr. Electrico stepped back.

Slowly, a glint of silver emerged.

From the hat rose the delicate and dripping wet hand of a fair-skinned woman, clutching a golden hilt. Around the hilt snaked two chimeras ensnaring a blade mighty as man had ever seen, moist with droplets of water. Inscribed in the most ancient of Welsh runic letters burned a single name, “Caledfwlch.”

Mr. Electrico gasped.

“Return!” He commanded.

Instantly the Lady of the Lake withdrew her hand back into the hat, taking Excalibur with her.

Again, the hat was empty. Only a little spot of water remained upon the brim and tabletop.

Mr. Electrico touched the water in amazement and quickly crossed himself, knowing this water was surely more holy than any in a church cistern.

Mr. Electrico knew better than to claim that blade.

But he smiled, knowing it was still out there. Somewhere. Awaiting the return of the Once and Future King.

Outside in the hallways, he heard his neighbor, Leah, getting ready to walk her dog, Nara.

He always had a huge crush on her. She was a petite little fitness trainer with a tight body and short hair. She was polite to him in an aloof and disinterested way, as only women of a certain youth can be.

Mr. Electrico got an idea.

“Nothing up my sleeve.” He muttered.

Quickly throwing on a jacket, he waved The Wand at his own hands and green light swirled up and into his coat.

The Wand was set aside and he hurried out to the hallway.

“Oh, hey, Leah.”

“Hey!”

“You have a minute?” Mr. Electrico asked as Nara wagged her tail and he pet her panting head.

“Sure, what’s up?” Leah wondered.

“New trick. You ready?”

“New trick?”

“Yeah. Magic trick.”

She knew he was a magician, but didn’t really think about it. He was nice and all, but being a magician was the same as being out of work, wasn’t it? She thought he was okay, and worried he had a crush on her, but otherwise, never gave him much thought at all. Disinterested, she replied, “Oh. Sure. Let’s see.”

Mr. Electrico reached behind her ear.

But instead of doing the classic “coin trick”, he produced an entire bar of gold.

“Huh!” Mr. Electrico sighed in shock. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Wow!” Leah was impressed. Obviously the gold wasn’t real, but how did he hide something so big up his sleeve?

“Whoa! Let’s try the other side.” Mr. Electrico reached behind the other ear and produced a diamond the size of a grapefruit.

He nearly fell over.

Leah grinned and clapped, figuring the diamond was certainly glass.

“That was awesome! How did you hide stuff so big?”

“Hold on!” Mr. Electrico requested.

He proceeded to pull out three more bars of gold.

Leah’s expression slowly changed.

She went from smiling, to looking confused, to taking a few fearful steps back down the hallway.

“Okay, how are you doing that? Are those real!? They can’t be real.”

Mr. Electrico was even more frightened than she was, but the moment she asked him how this was possible, and he saw the look on her face, he knew the answer he had to give.

He quickly put on his stage smile and bowed, “Magic, my dear! An illusionist never tells!”

Mr. Electrico laughed, warmheartedly and kind.

Leah relaxed.

“Well, that’s pretty awesome!” She nodded.

“Thanks! I’m glad you like it. I’ve been working on this trick for a long time. I’m glad it worked so well!” He lied, trying to ease the tension.

Nara was growing impatient. Her bladder wasn’t impressed unless Mr. Electrico could make pee vanish.

“Cool. Well, I have to get her outside.” Leah tugged at the leash.

“Yes. Sure. Sure. No problem. Sorry to interrupt. Thanks for helping me out with the trick.”

“No problem. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Catch you around.”

Leah and Nara walked out the door as Mr. Electrico picked up a few million dollars in gold and diamonds off the hallway floor.

He went back in his apartment, locking the door behind him and falling against the wall, his mouth agape with laughter.

The wealth wasn’t relevant to him.

Oh, he knew it would be in three days, when he had to give up The Wand. But for now, all he cared about was the power of The Wand and what else it might bring him. He knew he had to be smart. To think about it. Plan. He couldn’t squander this limited time.

Three days.

What to do with three days of magic at your command?

A noise thumped from the bathroom and for a split second, he feared an intruder, until he remembered.

“Damnit! What am I going to do with all those rabbits!?”

§

The sun was just beginning to rise over the beaches of Venice when Mr. Electrico arrived the next morning.

Tourists from all over the world knew the eclectic Venice Boardwalk of street performers as a place you must see when visiting California.

Mr. Electrico was determined to put on a magic show unlike anything anyone had ever seen in the history of the beach. Unlike anything in the history of the world. For the enchantment of The Wand to empower the wizardry of a wizard, the magic of a magician, the illusions of an illusionist, meant for the next few days, the power of Mr. Electrico would be nearly limitless. All he dreamed could become real.

During the early morning hours, when only a few dog walkers and homeless were on the beach, Mr. Electrico walked toward to sand.

With a wave of The Wand, a tent appeared. Small and rectangular, it was trimmed with a frill of carnival brocade and capped with a sign in old Vaudeville lettering, announcing:

Mr. Electrico & The Green Town Legion Circus Festival

Satisfied with the dusty tan trappings of the exterior of the tent, Mr. Electrico stepped inside.

Within stood an old theatrical ticket counter, far too large to fit inside the canvas. Bookending the ticket counter were two sets of double doors, carved and ornate visions depicting a diverse array of circus acts from clowns to trapeze artists to lion tamers.

Mr. Electrico slowly opened one of the doors.

A light and cool breeze, fresh as the ocean next to which the tent had appeared, blew across his face. The stadium within was gargantuan. He stood at the very top of the grandstands.

He was expecting something magical, but nothing like this.

Trapeze bars swung at dizzying heights above the circus floor.

Lions and elephants and cartwheeling clowns filled the three ring stage below, which sprawled the size of a football field.

Unlike the traditional gloom of most circus tents, whole of the scene was lit with a soft and tender sunlight, diffused through the canopy like muslin gauze.

Quickly, he dashed back outside.

Sanity check.

Yep. Tiny camping tent outside.

He ran back in.

Yep. Three ring circus football stadium inside.

If he hosted every tourist in all of Venice, he wouldn’t be able to fill that thing. Closing the doors beside the ticket booth, he whispered to The Wand and waved it, “Make it a little smaller? Enough to accommodate the crowds, but not so small to make it any less wondrous.”

The ornate door carvings changed from circus acts to theatrical ones, brimmed with comedy and drama masks.

As the doors clicked open, a grand vaudeville stage appeared in place of the football stadium circus.

Outside, the sign changed.

Mr. Electrico & The Green Town Legion Theatre Festival

Although there were very few people on the beach, a family of Australian tourists were already beginning to gather and consider checking out the unassuming little tent. They couldn’t possibly imagine what they were going to see inside.

§

Word about the tent spread quickly up and down the beach.

The tourists were so blown away, simply by poking their heads inside and seeing the lobby, they started grabbing strangers off the boardwalk.

“Crikey! You have to see this!”

“You’re not going to believe this!”

“Blood hell, it’s amazing!”

“How did they do that?”

A small handful of people, corralled as they walked by, quickly grew into a crowd. The crowd, clamoring and jostling for a glimpse at what was so impressive inside this little tent, soon expanded into forming a line. Finally, a mass of murmuring people were astounded to see dozens of patrons entering the canvas flaps, one by one, and never exiting.

All the while, exclamations of awe and astonishment could be heard once people stepped inside.

Where were they going?

How was that possible?

They had to see this for themselves.

§

Upon the theatre stage, a magical host appeared. To each member of the audience, he happened to look like their favorite Hollywood actor. The moment he stepped before the footlights, the crowd went mad with cheering.

“Boys and girl, ladies and gentlemen, welcome one and all to The Green Town Legion Theatre Festival! This day shall dazzle you with flying trapeze aerialists, high above the stage. You shall witness the wonders of the Five Lions of Timbuktu, the eerie splendor of the Invisible Man, and of course, the act you have all been waiting for, the world-famous, the legendary, the spectacular, Mr. Electrico!”

More clapping and cheers from the crowd. Even though none of them had any idea what any of these acts were about, the emcee was so enthusiastic, his excitement so contagious, the crowd simply ate it up. Conflicting conversations about what he or she looked like made for bizarre dialog on the walk back to the parking lots.

“But before we get to all of that,” the emcee continued, “please welcome to the stage, the charming, the sensual, the breathtaking, Demitria DeLaGarza!”

As the room magically dimmed and the emcee departed, a young woman appeared behind a backlit curtain.

Teasingly, the curtains raised as Demitria DeLaGarza stepped forward and sauntered onto the stage in a backless white cocktail dress that swayed across her hips like silk curtains in a New England breeze. Smoky brown eyes melted every man in the crowd and equally chocolate tresses cascaded down her shoulders. The center of her chin had the cutest dimple and the range of her voice could slam you back in your seat with its power or caress your cheek softer than a mother’s touch.

Mr. Electrico never believed in Love At First Sight, until that moment.

Demitria DeLaGarza was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He watched her entire performance, from torchsong renditions of “Skyscraper” and “In Case” to “Nightingale”.

After that, he had to go back outside and get some fresh air.

He wanted to run backstage and talk to her. Who was she? How did The Wand create this person? Was she even real? Did she have a life outside of this?

Demitria left his heart beating so fast, he felt like he was 15 again.

He’d talk to her later.

Yeah.

Later. Not now. No. No. Best to wait a bit first. After all, it would be far too easy to say something foolish when introducing oneself to a girl you conjured out of thin air.

Perhaps that was his biggest fear of all.

What if there was no backstage?

What if she never existed beyond her performance?

§

Outside the magical tent, Mr. Electrico barely had to sell the show. There was no reason to invite people to “step right up” when a line of sixty people was already stepping up and growing larger by the minute.

Unknown to Mr. Electrico, the local police were on orders from the FBI to report any “bizarre activity” happening around the city. Specifically “acts that defy ordinary convention” - guidelines which the local police obviously laughed at, especially in Venice. What the heck is “ordinary convention” anywhere in Los Angeles? Especially on Venice Beach and Ocean Front Walk?

Some beach officers took note of the crowds near Mr. Electrico and all the people entering the tent and not exiting. Murmuring to each other, the officers agreed, that seemed to surely qualify as “defying ordinary convention”.

“Good afternoon.” The first officer said to Mr. Electrico.

“Good afternoon.”

“This your show?” The second office circled a hand towards the tent like a papal blessing. Mr. Electrico’s face was prominently displayed on posters to either side of the entrance.

“Yes, sir.”

The first officer noted, “Looks like quite a show you have going here.”

“Thank you, sir. For a pair of fine officers like yourselves, a show free of charge.” Mr. Electrico motioned to open the tent for them.

The second officer grinned, “No. No, thank you. We’re on duty. But afterward we - ”

“ - Wow! Would you look at that?” The first officer interrupted.

Both officers peeked in and saw the impossibly big lobby.

“Holy mackerel!”

“Yeah, we’re definitely coming back for this!”

“Can I get a picture?” The second officer asked Mr. Electrico.

“Sure! Please do!” Mr. Electrico gestured dramatically.

The officers were savvy.

The FBI instructed them not to question or arrest anyone, just get their information. By the time the officers left, they had numerous photographs and a business card from Mr. Electrico.

Mr. Electrico was suspicious. He’d seen the news, same as everyone else in town. Maybe they were looking for The Wand, but what else could he do but cooperate?

At the end of the day, just before sunset, Mr. Electrico packed up the magical tent, smiling as he thought about going out to dinner tomorrow evening with Demitria, who had graciously accepted his invitation.

§

Mr. Electrico drove away from the beach to perform in his recurring show at the Magic Mansion in Hollywood, and that night would be the greatest performance he had ever given. His audience was bewildered. His fellow magicians were flabbergasted.

Mr. Electrico burned his name into the walls of the viewing rooms, only to have the walls patch themselves and turn flawless again.

He passed a hula hoop around his body, proving he was not attached to harnesses or wires, then walked above the crowd on invisible stairs.

He produced not simply a rabbit out of his hat, but a voluptuous female assistant who sauntered through the crowd as she pulled raccoons and ferrets and chihuahuas and kittens out of the hat.

With a word from Mr. Electrico, they all ran back on stage, into the hat, and vanished - including the voluptuous woman!

He made the walls of the room disappear and the audience found themselves on the nightime grasslands of Nebraska, rolling hills of green stretching into the dark, and the Milky Way sparkling in a dusty band overhead. A moment later, the walls lifted back into place, and they had returned to Hollywood.

No one had any idea how he was doing any of this.

Truly, he was the greatest magician anyone had ever seen.

Unfortunately, the mansion had a policy of no video recording, so no one would be able to prove these allegations of astounding sorcery. Nevertheless, those who had seen it for themselves, would talk of it for the remainder of their lives.

Later that evening, Mr. Electrico returned to the prop room in the basement of the mansion, putting away the things he had used in his shows. Sure, he could have used The Wand to do that, but he always loved the process. The tactile nature of the chore itself was rewarding. Setting things back in place always reminded him of seeing programs when he was a child, about clowns taking off their makeup. There was something even more magical about the routine of stripping off the mantle.

Standing in the prop room, he suddenly found himself tempted.

The world famous prop room at the Magic Mansion in Hollywood.

With a real wand.

And no one was around.

If you were a person who remembered that magic of childhood so clearly, what would you do in that moment?

Mr. Electrico grinned.

With a wave of The Wand, a mummy came to life and began an act of standup comedy. Bird cages levitated and danced in the air. Boxes of magic wands marched across the hardwood floors like tin soldiers. Rabbits flew out of hats and proceeded to kick in a chorusline. Playing cards tore themselves in half and reassembled, burst into flames and reemerged from the ashes, and the ink itself melted off and changed places with other cards. True to his namesake, lightbulbs unscrewed themselves from marquee signs and rearranged themselves in midair, sparking to life to spell, “Mr. Electrico!”

Laughing at the fun he was having, Mr. Electrico panicked when he heard the door to the prop room unlatching.

Everything collapsed with a wave of The Wand.

Lightbulbs crashed.

Wands tumbled.

Bunnies were swallowed by hats.

Even the mummy died.

“What the heck? What’s going on in here? Hello?”

Nathan “Mr. Magicpants” Reynolds was another magician at the Magic Mansion and a close friend of Mr. Electrico. He was arriving late for a private show and hadn’t heard all the buzz that evening about what spectacular magic Mr. Electrico had performed. Nevertheless, he recognized The Wand the second he saw it. “Douglas!? Where’d you get that? What was all that noise?”

“What?”

Stepping over the enchanted magic wands scattered across the floor, Mr. Magicpants asked, “What are you doing in here? It’s a mess!”

“Oh. Uh. Nothing. I don’t know. It was like this. Somebody must have dropped something.” Mr. Electrico lied terribly. He was just caught so unaware, he wasn’t sure what to do.

Shrugging it off, Mr. Electrico added, “I’m sure the cleaning crew can take care of it.”

No non-magicians were allowed in there.

Not even the cleaning crew.

“What are you talking about? If you didn’t make this mess, who did?” Mr. Magicpants asked, “And where did you get that?”

“Get what?”

“The staff! That looks just like the staff that construction worker had on the news.”

“What construction worker?”

“Have you been living under a rock?”

“Well, you know, I’ve been keeping to myself.”

Mr. Magicpants knew that Mr. Electrico was alluding to his recent breakup with his girlfriend Caroline. Mr. Magicpants didn’t want to get into that. “Oh, I’m sorry, man. You know, it’s just... is that really The Wand?”

“The Wand?”

“That’s what it’s being called on the Internet and stuff. The video is all over the place. How did you get it? That’s not the same one, is it? It looks just like it!”

“Wait. Let me get this straight. You know this is a real magic wand?” Mr. Electrico knew there was weird stuff on the news, he didn’t expect Mr. Magicpants to immediately recognize it.

Mr. Magicpants scoffed. “There’s no such thing as a real magic wand. Nobody can make a replica that fast. See, I knew those news reports were all fake. You order it from the same place? But, man, that video sure looked real.”

“It’s real.”

“Right.”

“No, seriously.”

Mr. Magicpants shook his head. “No, no, no. The simple fact you’re telling me is why I don’t believe you. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t be blabbing to people if I had a real magic wand.”

“Yeah, you would. If you thought you’d go crazy if you didn’t tell anyone.”

“So prove it.”

“Huh?”

“Prove it’s a real magic wand.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay... You asked for it.”

In one blinding green flash, Mr. Magicpants found himself standing on a sandy tropical beach under a swiftly setting afternoon sun.

Jumping around as if being attacked by invisible ninjas, Mr. Magicpants yelled, “What the goddamn?... Where are we!?”

Mr. Electrico smiled, “We’re on a little speck of land just south of Pula Gunange in the Molucca Sea in Indonesia.”

“Indonesia!?”

“Yep. Hungry? You had dinner yet?” With another wave of The Wand, a table appeared. Covered in a delicate linen tablecloth it presented a bouquet of lobster and fine wine.

Mr. Magicpants took it all in. He sniffed the food. Touched the wineglass.

“Holy. Freakin’. Crap.” He touched the sand, and squinted up at Mr. Electrico. “This is real.”

“Damn right.”

“We’re in Indonesia!?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s a real magic wand?”

“Real magic wand.”

“Jeezus.”

Mr. Magicpants looked around the beach of the deserted speck of land at the dazzling blue waters. “This is fantastic! You’re set for life!”

Mr. Electrico replied, “Well, hold on. Not really.”

“Not really!? Look at what you can do! You’ll be the greatest magician of all time. No more card tricks and illusions. You can do real magic!”

“No, no. Hold on. There’s a catch.”

Mr. Magicpants frowned. Then his eyes got big and he scrambled away, “Oh, God. You have to kill me, don’t you? That’s why you brought me here. That’s why we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Gesturing at the table, he shouted, “What is this? My last meal? Oh, God! It requires human sacrifices to keep working it’s magic, doesn’t it?”

“What!? No. No. No. Calm down. I’m - No! I’m not going to kill you. Are you crazy? No. Chill out. There’s no human sacrifice.”

Panting in the sand, Mr. Magicpants was more than a little embarrassed. “Oh. No human sacrifice?”

“No human sacrifice. No.”

“Damn. I’m sorry, I just thought - Nevermind. Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak out. This is all just... a little overwhelming.”

“I totally understand. Let’s go back to the mansion. Okay?”

“Okay.”

A moment after the flash of green, a hunting spear flew through the space where Mr. Magicpants had been standing and sent an explosion of lobster off the table.

Oombatta of the Lost Cannibal Tribe of Palau, cursed at his missed shot. He had seen these strange men appear out of nowhere. Now, his dream, of bringing his tribe the magic men to feast upon, was shattered.

§

“You better be careful with that thing. How on earth did you get it?” Mr. Magicpants sipped a glass of water. He needed it after his little episode.

As Mr. Electrico swept The Wand over the room, the broken glass and mummy and magic wands all went back together in their proper places. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. There’s a catch to it. I inherited it.”

“Inherited it?”

“Well, no, not like from a dead relative, but I found it at the church yesterday. And look, see here?” Mr. Electrico showed The Three Rules to Mr. Magicpants.

Mr. Magicpants murmured, “Use the magic wand for three days. Only in your profession. Secretly bequeath to anonymous stranger.”

Letting go of the placard, he said, “Well, that sucks. Only three days? When did you get it? What day is this?”

“The second.”

“And the day is over. So you only have one day left?”

“Yeah. Just tomorrow. But I was thinking of using The Wand to create some extra days or freeze time or something. That way, I can keep using it. Maybe if I change the calendar.” Mr. Electrico said, as he walked near one tacked to the wall.

Mr. Magicpants shook his head and set the water down, sternly chiding his friend. “Ohhh, no, man. Don’t - You crazy? You can’t do that. That’s like, like using wishes to get more wishes. Man, that’s a big forbidden wish. Everyone knows that. Those wishes always backfire. You’re doing that same thing. I wouldn’t try that if I were you, man.”

“You’ve watched too many Twilight Zone episodes.”

“I’m serious!”

“What do you know? Magic wands aren’t real! How can you say what the consequences are? Why, because you’ve watched some movies and television shows? Read some faerie tales?”

“All legends are based in some reality, dude. Why do you think the ideas are repeated so much? Don’t you get it? Maybe some of those old fables are based on that very staff you’re holding! Ever think of that, smartguy?”

“Whatever. Look, I’m not going to base my usage of a real magic wand on some possible consequences learned off of a fictional television program. Okay?”

Mr. Magicpants looked graven. “Dude. Seriously. I wouldn’t.”

At that point, Mr. Electrico was irritated and ready to prove he could add extra days to the world successfully.

Without another word, he raised The Wand and spoke, “Alter the time! Change my three days to more!”

In a green flash of light, Mr. Magicpants vanished.

Mr. Electrico was confused.

“Hello?... Nathan?... You still here?”

Slowly, he began to panic. Did he just kill him? Did he disintegrate!? Where the hell is Nathan?

Oh, God.

“Nathan! Yo, Magicpants! Where are you, man?”

Mr. Electrico began to wonder if Mr. Magicpants had been right.

Was it human sacrifice?

Was that the fourth rule?

Did this damn magic wand just eat Mr. Magicpants?

Trembling, he looked at the backside of the placard. No. Nothing. No fourth rule.

What the hell just happened!?

Mr. Electrico’s phone suddenly pinged five new messages. He absently hit ignore. He quickly gathered his things, scurried up the stairs and fumbled for the lock on the door.

Just as he got the door open, he found Mr. Magicpants nonchalantly trying to open the door from the other side.

“Douglas!? Where have you been!?”

“Nathan!? What have I been? Downstairs. You just saw me. You’re the one who disappeared! Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

“I disappeared? No, buddy, you’re the one who disappeared.”

“What?”

Denise, one of the bartenders, came walking through the room.

“Oh, hey boys. You found him?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, yeah, Denise. He turned up.”

Denise grinned, “Great show last night, Mr. Electrico!”

“Thanks. You mean tonight?” Mr. Electrico corrected.

“Tonight? You performed tonight? No, I meant last night.”

“I wasn’t here last night.”

Denise knew better than to argue with an eccentric magician. That’s why she never dated them anymore. “Oh. Well, whenever it was. It was cool. Well, have a good evening, gentlemen. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Denise. See you tomorrow.” Mr. Magicpants called.

“Thanks! Goodnight.” Mr. Electrico was confused. Denise didn’t work on Sunday nights. “What’s she doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t work Sundays.”

“Douglas, it’s Monday.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes it - holy crap!” Mr. Magicpants put his hand over his mouth.

“What?”

“I told you!” Mr. Magicpants punched Mr. Electrico in the chest with a soft fist. “Didn’t I tell you? You didn’t listen to me!”

“Listen to what?”

“You have a phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Pull out your phone. What’s the date?”

“The date? I don’t remember. It’s Sunday something.”

As Mr. Electrico took his phone out of his pocket, Mr. Magicpants said, “The day. Check the day. You think it’s Sunday?”

Looking at his phone, Mr. Electrico spoke in a voice of quiet bewilderment, “Monday. 11:56pm.”

“The Wand.” Mr. Magicpants explained.

“The Wand?”

“Douglas, don’t you see? I didn’t disappear. You did. You tried adding extra days to using The Wand, like I told you not to, and instead it took away the only day you had left! It’s Monday, dude. After you vanished last night, I’ve been looking for you all day! I called you like four or five times. I was afraid The Wand had killed you or something.”

Mr. Electrico suddenly remembered his phone again.

Looking at the display, there were seven new messages, five from Mr. Magicpants.

“Damnit!” Mr. Electrico cursed The Wand. “That’s not fair!”

“I told you. I told you not to mess with it. You tried cheating and look what happened!”

“That’s not fair!” Mr. Electrico repeated, still staring at his phone, as though praying the date would change back or the message notifications would all vanish.

They didn’t.

“Damnit.” Mr. Electrico started to march out of the room.

“Where you going?”

“Home!”

“Home?”

“Well, my time is up! You don’t think I’m going to teleport to a tropical island and get marooned there by this stupid wand, do you?” Mr. Electrico blustered.

§

As he drove home, Mr. Electrico punched his steering wheel.

“Damnit! Damnit!”

Sighing at a redlight, he looked at The Wand in his passenger seat.

He had his magic hat.

He had his spectacular tent.

Maybe he better quit while he was ahead.

The more he thought of it, Mr. Magicpants was right. Mr. Electrico broke the rules. He got what was coming to him. He wasn’t going to break the rules again. He was instructed to bequeath it to a stranger and that’s just what he would do.

But to whom?

A carhorn blared him out of his daydream.

As he continued his drive, he remembered he was only a few blocks away from Starship Earth, the magic shop he used to visit as a kid.

Yes.

That was it.

Let some young boy or girl at the magic shop find it.

Won’t they be thrilled?

Imagine being 9 years old and buying a real magic wand at the magic shop? That would be a dream come true for every kid who sets foot in that place!

That was perfect.

It would be bequeathed to the magic shop.

Swinging around at the next intersection, he circled up to the next road, on his way to the old store.

At this time of night, this part of town was fairly deserted.

Located in an old stripmall, the weathered Starship Earth sign looked completely out-of-place, still having the styling of signs from 30 years ago. The retail space was the smallest shop available, the glass fogged like a bathroom mirror that hadn’t been cleaned in ages. Which reminded him, Mr. Electrico needed to do that when he got home. Too bad he couldn’t have used The Wand to do some spring cleaning. Why didn’t he think of that sooner?

Checking that the streets were empty and there was no nearby traffic, Mr. Electrico used The Wand to pull the brick wall aside like a curtain and entered the locked store.

Standing inside, he felt the waves of nostalgia.

Old costumes. A wall of rubber monster masks. Cheap magic kits. A glass cabinet of theatrical makeup. The place still smelled like it did in gradeschool. Nothing had changed.

Walking into the back of the store, among a display of wizard robes, he found a box of staffs. He slipped The Wand into the box.

The thought never occurred to him until that moment...

Could he teleport himself back out of the store without bring The Wand along with him?

He was about to find out.

He just prayed it didn’t drop him back in Indonesia.

Closing his eyes, a little frightened, he tapped The Wand to his head.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing outside on the sidewalk in front of his car. Inside the store, a tiny glow of green faded from deep in the back of Starship Earth.

§

Arriving home late the next evening from his first date with Demetria (oodly enough, she lived in an apartment in Santa Monica, not a magical netherworld), Mr. Electrico was giddy with the euphoria of young love, until he saw the strange men standing by his stoop.

“Mr. Electrico.” Connor MacDougal said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes?” Mr. Electrico answered nervously as his Demetria-induced smile faded.

Mister Duncan stepped behind him and put a gun to his back.

“I’m sick of screwing around, so you’re going to give us the magic wand right now.” Connor said.

Unlike in the movies, Mr. Electrico had no way of knowing there was a gun in his back until he turned around and saw it. Feeling the metal of the barrel pressed against his spine, he panicked, “I don’t have it!”

“You expect us to believe - ”

“ - It’s true! It’s the rules! It’s part of the rules!”

“What rules?”

“Three days! You can only keep The Wand for three days. Then you have to give it away!” Mr. Electrico was breathing ragged.

Connor squinted. Was this real? Mr. Electrico didn’t even argue about The Wand. He didn’t deny having it. He didn’t ask what The Wand was. He was being completely forthcoming. Not hesitating at all, the way men do when they’re lying.

“You gave it away?” Connor asked. He would have been shocked, but it was starting to make sense. No wonder Julio left it at a church.

“Yes. I had to. The Three Rules are written right on The Wand. It’s written right there. It says you can only keep it for three days. So I don’t have it anymore! I left it to Starship Earth. I gave it to them. Starship Earth! Over in Hollywood! It’s at Starship Earth. I - I don’t have it anymore.”

“Starship Earth?” Connor grimaced, thinking Mr. Electrico was mocking him with a phony name.

“The magic shop?” Mister Duncan asked.

This time, Connor was shocked. How the hell would Mister Duncan know that?

Mister Duncan explained, “I take my nephew there. He loves monster makeup.”

“You left it at this store?” Connor asked Mr. Electrico again.

“Yes. Yes! It’s a magic shop. Costume shop. I don’t have it. It’s at Starship Earth. I stuck it in the back with the prop wizard staves. The FBI wants it too!”

Connor cocked his head. “The FBI?”

Mr. Electrico was saying everything about three times faster than normal. Rattling everything off with Gatling cannon speed. No one had ever put a gun to him before and he was terrified. “Yes. Two FBI agents came asking me about The Wand at the beach today. I told them the same thing. I told them I left it at Starship Earth last night. So, if it’s not at Starship Earth, they may have gotten to it first. The FBI might have it already. I don’t want you to get to the store, and not find it, and think I’m lying. So, if it’s gone, maybe someone bought it or - or maybe the FBI guys picked it up already. Please. Please, just let me go. I told you everything I know. I’d give it to you, I really would, but I don’t have it.”

Connor chuckled. “Not to fret, Mr. Electrico. We’ll let you go. But you didn’t tell us everything. You said giving it away was one of the rules. What are the other rules?”

Mr. Electrico explained The Three Rules.

As Connor listened, he started to quiver. Mr. Electrico didn’t notice, and he had no idea how much this information terrified Connor MacDougal.

Knowing this magic wand was not only real, but if he were to find it, there was no way his boss would be able to operate it. How was the notorious Dinny McHan supposed to be given The Wand by an anonymous stranger?

For a split second, he thought of dragging Mr. Electrico to Dinny and have Mr. Electrico explain it. But, in all likelihood, if Connor tried to save his ass that way, Dinny would string up Connor for wasting time and not getting over to Starship Earth.

Mr. McHan wasn’t the type who went for excuses.

Connor MacDougal no longer knew what scared him more.

Not finding The Wand, and having to face his boss.

Or finding it, and having to face his boss.

Chapter Seven

Amanda Baker arrived at Starship Earth first thing in the morning. She didn’t usually shop there, but they opened at 7am, she was totally out of skin primer, and her calltime for makeup at Walt Disney Studios was 8 o’clock that morning.

Everyone knows the talent is never on time, but Amanda absolutely needed to be. She had done nothing but little independent direct-to-video movies up to this point and Disney represented her first gig for a major studio, so she didn’t want to screw it up.

Petite and muscular, Amanda was sprinkled with sleeve tattoos and flowing blonde locks with brunette undertones. She was the sort of girl who knew the power of her beauty gave her special privileges in life, but she was reaching that odd time in her mid-twenties when a woman slowly begins to realize she won’t possess that power forever, yet doesn’t realize she will remain breathtaking for many more years than she believes.

“Hi!” Amanda bounced up to the kid opening the store, Gary, as he was unlocking the door.

“Hey.” Gary was a disheveled stoner with stringy long hair, no more than 18 years old, in an unkempt blue and white flannel shirt. He was the type who was unimpressed with a girl like Amanda unless she had weed.

“Skin primer?” Amanda asked.

He jerked a thumb, “Back wall.”

“Thanks!”

Unimpressed, yet he still snuck a glace at her butt when her back was turned.

The old store was a bit dim and moody on the brightest of days, but since Gary still hadn’t turned the primary lights on, it was even darker than usual. Amanda had a hard time seeing anything on the shelves.

“Hey!” She called out, “can you turn on - ”

The lights flicked on.

Amanda’s eyes jumped to the ceiling. “ - Nevermind.”

A few more seconds of looking and Amanda had what she needed. It wasn’t a brand she preferred, but it would do for now.

Just as she was about to head up to the counter, Amanda noticed a tub of wizard staffs. Her boyfriend was dressing as a wizard for an upcoming masquerade ball and he was having a hard time finding a cool staff.

The Wand instantly caught her eye.

There was no price tag, but the others were all pretty inexpensive.

She grabbed it.

Thus, Amanda Baker became the next owner of The Wand.

Standing at the counter, Gary was nowhere to be found. She was going to be late! Where the heck was he?

Finally, an old man, Stephen, came out from a back room. He was the owner of the shop. Sparkly blue eyes which betrayed his age to a man 30 years younger and bristly bits of white hair above his ears like egg rolls made of cotton. Amanda liked him immediately.

“All set?” He asked.

“All set.” She announced.

“Okay.” Stephen began to ring up her order on an old punch register. Did they even make those anymore?

“Let’s see. Skin primer.” Glasses came out of a pocket to read the pricetag. Head tipped back for the bifocals.

“You work in makeup?” Stephen asked.

“Is it obvious?” Amanda smiled.

“Well, hobbists don’t use skin primer.” He winked.

That word - “hobbist” - caught Amanda’s attention and jumped at the chance to brag about her job. Her parents still saw her as a hobbist.

“I’ve worked on a few small films. You wouldn’t have heard of them.”

“Try me.”

“Oh, they’re just obscure independent movies.”

“Try me.” Stephen repeated. He had an endearing gravel to his voice that only old men who have lead good lives possess.

“I worked on one called CL.ONES.”

“Oh!” Stephen perked up. “Jason Tomlin? He’s a very talented young man.”

“You know CL.ONES?” Amanda was shocked and actually took a step back.

“Our store has been here a long time, ma’am.” Stephen flashed that smile again. She liked it when cute old men called her “ma’am”.

“Well, today is my second day at Disney. I’m on a feature over there!”

“Disney? Well, congratulations! That’s wonderful.”

“Thank you!”

“Well, let’s get you out of here then. Don’t want to make you late.” Stephen moved a bit faster and motioned for The Wand.

“There was no price on it.” Amanda told him.

“Looks like that one on the news.” Stephen observed. “I don’t remember getting these. Gary or Tina must have ordered it.”

“On the news?”

“You didn’t see? The weird magic trick the construction worker did on the news? He had a staff looked just like this. Same shape at the top.”

“Oh. I was up in Palmdale on a shoot, then I was right on the Disney set. I haven’t seen the news.”

“Well, the others are $20. Let’s call it $15 to celebrate your Disney gig.”

Amanda brightened as she reached for some cash and paid Stephen the total. “Really? Thank you so much. It’s for my boyfriend. Wizard costume.”

Had Stephen been younger, or sleazy, she would have mentioned her boyfriend just to make sure he didn’t hit on her. But this time, she had no such ulterior motives and was sincerely just happy that she found something nice for her boy.

“I think he’ll love it.” Stephen said and reached to a cardholder on the counter. “Here. We have workshops once a month and always need guest teachers. Anyone who worked on a project with Jason Tomlin and moved on to Disney is going to have some talent. You should think about giving a class.”

Amanda chuckled and took the business card, “I just came in for supplies and you’re offering me a job?”

“If you’re interested. Once you’re off the Disney job.” Stephen said as he handed Amanda her change.

“Thank you. I’ll think about it.” Amanda reached into her pocket and handed Stephen one of her business cards in return.

Stephen accepted the card and wished her well on set.

With a departing farewell, Amanda left Starship Earth and headed over the hill to Burbank. She made her calltime with time to spare.

The talent was 45 minutes late.

Of course.

§

Amanda pulled out her cellphone and called her boyfriend, Scott, when the crew broke for lunch. Having just finished eating at the Commissary, Amanda sat on the bench in front of the Animation building, next to Pluto’s Corner.

“Hey, beautiful.” He answered. He always called her that.

“Hey, baby. How’s it going?”

“Good. Good.”

“Can you talk?”

“For a little bit. J.J. is back on set.”

J.J. was the director of the film Scott was working on. Scott Greer was a motion picture editor. Oddly enough, he and Amanda didn’t meet working on a movie. They met at a bicycle shop where she used to work.

“What’s up? How’s your second day at Disney?”

“Freaking awesome! I wish I was just on staff here permanently.”

“Well, you never know. That might happen.”

“I hope so!”

“Hey, I have good news.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll be home in 2 days.”

“Home? What? Why? I thought you were wrapping Pennsylvania at the end of the week.”

“We were. We’re ahead of schedule.”

“You’re kidding. When does that ever happen?”

“When you have a director who knows what he’s doing.”

Amanda chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth? Well, that’s awesome! When did you find out?”

“Like an hour ago.”

“Aw, baby. I’m so happy. I’ve missed you!”

“I miss you so much. There’s still a ton of work to do, but at least I get to sleep in my own bed and see you.”

“Oh, no! The heck with that. You’re not sleeping in your own bed for a long time. You’re sleeping in my bed, mister. What’s this your own bed, nonsense?”

“Be careful. You’re at Disney. Don’t want to be obnoxious.”

“Obnoxious? Disney is about families. How do you think babies get made?”

Scott laughed. She never told him how much she loves the sound of his laughter. “You’re awful. And wonderful.”

“I’m serious!”

“We’re not having babies yet.”

Amanda loved that he said “yet”. Smart man. He was one of the rare men who knew the right thing to say. Amanda always heard those men existed but never believed it until she met him. “No, but we can practice.”

“I’m all for that.”

“Lots of practice.” Amanda nodded.

“Yes, ma’am. Tons. Don’t practice and you’ll gimme a tard baby.”

“Scott!”

“What?” He chuckled.

“You’re terrible!” Amanda didn’t even want to repeat his words. Not while sitting on a bench at Disney.

“Yeah, well, you like bad boys.”

“Ha. I have more tattoos than you.” She observed.

“Just because I have no ink doesn’t make me any less badass.”

“This is true. You are pretty sexy without them.”

“Darn tootin’!” Scott smirked at the antiquated slang.

“Darn skippy. Okay, I gotta go. I need to get back to the stage.”

“Alright, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too, boo. Call you when I get home.”

“Okay. I look forward to it. Bye.”

“Bye.”

As soon as she hung up, Amanda remembered that she wanted to tell Scott about The Wand. She had gotten distracted when she found out he’d be home early and totally forgot to mention her find.

Then, she figured, keeping it a surprise might be more fun.

§

Amanda was home from work by 9pm that night. She carried The Wand out of her car and stashed it in the corner of her den. Exhausted from a long day on set, she took a quick shower, grabbed some food, and went straight to bed.

The Santa Ana winds bristled against her windowpane as she fell into a deep sleep. She only had a 6 hour turnaround before she had to be back on the soundstage.

§

Connor walked up to the counter at Starship Earth just before closing time and asked Tina, “Excuse me. My friend told me you had a particular style of magic wand in stock. I looked in the back there and didn’t see it. Would you know if you sold it already?”

As Mister Duncan looked at some hopping dentures on the display table, Tina smiled, “What did it look like? This particular wand?”

Connor showed her the image.

“Oh, the one from television? You know, the owner of the store was asking me about that yesterday. He said we sold one. He’s not in today. But, if you want, I can take your name and number and have him call you tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. I think we’ll just stop back in. He’s here tomorrow, you say?”

“Yes, sir. He should be in by 3 o’clock tomorrow.”

“Thank you. May I ask your names?”

Tina held out her hand, “Oh, I’m Tina and he’s Stephen.”

They shook. “Tina and Stephen. I see. Thank you, very much.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No. Thank you, very much. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

§

Amanda moved like the living dead on set the next day.

That was not enough sleep.

The only times she had any energy was when she started daydreaming about Scott. He would be home the next evening. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

The Wand had been waiting in her den for 2 days.

§

“Stephen Kloski?” Agent Miller flashed his FBI badge at the owner of Starship Earth.

“Yes?” Stephen asked from behind his store counter.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kloski. I’m Agent Miller. This is Agent Trappett. We’re representatives of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Certainly. I’m not in trouble, am I?” Stephen’s head bounced nervously back and forth between the men with the fervor of watching a tennis match.

“No, no sir. Not at all. We just need your help in tracking down a certain prop you may have here in your store. We have reason to believe it was stolen and is quite valuable.” Agent Trappett put the old man at ease.

“I haven’t stolen anything.”

“No, sir. We know you’re not the thief. We just think it may have been left here by the thief. You understand?”

“Valuable stolen prop, you say? Does this have anything to do with the staff?”

Agent Miller rubbed his chin. “The staff?”

“Yes. Some gentlemen were here earlier today, asking about a rather fancy wizard staff I had sold to a young woman the day before. They had a picture of it and everything. Claimed it was a family heirloom. They said it was valuable too.”

Agent Miller and Agent Trappett exchanged worried glances.

Who were these men? Who else was looking for the staff and why?

“Well, yes, sir. In fact, we are investigating the theft of a staff.” Agent Trappett explained.

“Did you happen to get their names? The gentlemen who visited you today.” Agent Miller wondered.

“No, sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t. But I did give them the young woman’s business card. I copied down her information. I can get that for you.” Stephen reached below the counter and found the scrap paper where he had written down Amanda’s email and address.

Slipping it across the counter glass, he said, “Here it is. Does that help you at all?”

§

Amanda kissed Scott long and deep, as they stood dripping wet, wrapped in towels in her bathroom.

Once they pulled apart, Scott’s eyed flared. “Okay! Go! Leave! Get out. I really gotta go!” Scott shoved her as he clacked his knees together. “Come on, before I pee on your foot.”

“Maybe I’d be into that.” Amanda winked.

“Get out! You freak!”

Amanda chuckled. “Okay, okay!”

She took one last admiring glance at his nude body before he shut the bathroom door on her.

Their evening had been wonderful.

She picked him up from the airport.

Sushi at her favorite joint off of Coldwater in Studio City.

Then back to her bedroom to make love for 3 hours.

Amanda was floating.

Walking to her den, she grabbed some sketches she had been working on for her next independent film. Looking like a prop shop at a movie studio, the room was filled with Amanda’s makeup and effects creations. Sketches. Maquettes. Models. Sculptures. Paintings. Action figures. Display cases. Laser guns. There were even two giant monster statues pushing ten feet in height, from thrillers she had worked on - the Alienoid and Dreadator. Took her a long time to find an apartment with ceilings high enough to accommodate them.

Her den was every little boy’s dream. And every tomboy’s too.

She always had to supervise her preteen nephews in the den when they came to visit, for fear they were going to break something.

The Wand sat in the corner.

Amanda smiled at it.

Scott had loved it. He couldn’t wait to use it with his costume.

She touched the wood and grinned. Grabbing it like she was standing off against the Alienoid, she shook it at him.

“Abracadabra!”

BUZZZZZZZZ!

Amanda turned to face her livingroom.

Who the hell was buzzing her apartment this time of night?

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a green glow come from behind her in the den.

That was weird.

Was there a green glow fading from the head of The Wand? She did a quick doubletake. No. Nothing.

Odd.

Absently, she took The Wand with her, shut the door to her den and walked toward the foyer.

“Who is that?” Scott asked, coming out of the bathroom.

Amanda shrugged.

As she stepped in front of the peephole, she saw Connor MacDougal and Mister Duncan outside her door.

Something clattered and banged from inside the den.

“The hell was that?” Scott puzzled at the den door.

“Miss Baker?” Connor smiled, seeing the peephole darken. “Sorry to disturb you so late. I got your name from Stephen Kloski over at Starship Earth. I was wondering if I might interest you in a film project for Warner Brothers.”

Amanda looked at Scott, her cheeks crinkled in disbelief.

“Just a moment!” Amanda called out.

Scott ignored the den and came closer to her.

Why the hell would these guys come over in person when it was almost midnight? That was creepy and suspicious. But they claimed to know the guy from Starship Earth, and he was a sweet old man.

Amanda opened the door a crack with the security latch still in place and peeked through the jamb. “From Starship Earth, you say? Kind of late to be making a housecall, isn’t it?”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Connor grinned a smile that looked genuinely harmless. He was good at such deception. “We just got off a shoot and were in the neighborhood.”

Connor handed Amanda her own business card, “We really are from Mr. Kloski over at Starship Earth. He gave me your card.”

“Well, hold on a couple minutes. We weren’t expecting company. My boyfriend and I need to get dress - ”

Connor spotted The Wand in Amanda’s hand and kicked the door in.

Amanda was knocked backwards, The Wand flying out of her grasp and sailing into the livingroom.

She screamed and Scott ran to her, his towel falling on the floor. “Amanda!”

Connor and Mister Duncan had their guns drawn.

“Alright, little missy! Hand over The Wand right now!”

Scott jumped between Connor and Amanda. “You get the hell away from her!”

Connor laughed. He raised his gun to Scott’s eye.

Scott stared down the gun barrel and felt color drain from his face.

Oh, God, no. Scott thought.

Amanda squealed. “No!”

“FBI! Drop your weapons now!” Agent Trappett and Agent Miller appeared around the doorway, guns trained on Connor and Mister Duncan.

Connor whipped his gun away from Scott and fired at Agent Trappett.

Amanda shrieked.

Bullets riddled the doorway and the two agents dove for cover in the hall.

A second later, FBI ammunition rained back, shattering the television and peppering the plaster of Amanda’s livingroom walls with holes.

Scott grabbed Amanda and dragged her to her feet, rushing her toward the bedroom and diving into the doorway.

In a deafening explosion, the den door shattered in a hail of fire and wood as the monstrous Alienoid lept into the livingroom. All four men stopped firing their weapons at each other and screamed, turning to shoot the monster.

“What the hell is that!?” Mister Duncan bellowed.

With two swift jumps, the Alienoid sprang across the livingroom, grabbing Agent Miller in one hand and Agent Trappett in the other. The FBI agents wailed in terror as the Alienoid jumped clear through the ceiling and ran across the rooftops, carrying the howling bodies of the FBI agents with it.

Scott and Amanda cowered against the bedroom doorway in shock. Connor and Mister Duncan trembled.

Spotting The Wand on the floor, Connor told Mister Duncan, “Quick. Grab it.”

As Mister Duncan grabbed for The Wand, a massive black boot stomped it back to the floor.

With a disgustingly wet and guttural cry, like a thousand shells being ripped from living lobsters, the Dreadator breathed hot, fetid breath on Mister Duncan.

Connor yelled and fired at the Dreadator who just smacked the gun from his hand and dragged him up by his ankles. The Dreadator took hold of Mister Duncan’s ankles with his other hand and let Mister Duncan fire his remaining three bullets into the side of the Dreadator’s head. The Dreadator reacted as if they were nothing but mosquito bites.

The two mafia men shouted as the Dreadator slung them over his massive shoulders and jumped out of the hole left by the Alienoid, in pursuit of his prey. Connor and Mister Duncan’s bodies could be heard splattering on the pavement four stories below after the Dredator dropped them.

Scott and Amanda were alone.

Her livingroom was a ruin of dust and bulletholes.

The air smelled like chalk and gunpowder.

Neighbors began filtering out of their apartments. “What the hell is going on out - Oh, my!”

People were staring up at the massive hole in the roof of their apartment hallway.

More noises came from Amanda’s den.

Amanda and Scott scrambled to their feet and ran to the doorway just in time to see random creatures in her den scampering out the broken window. Sketches and drawings swirled in the heavy Santa Ana winds as imps and ghouls and gremlins galore jumped out of the room. A few other beasts scuttled out the front. Neighbors in the hallway screamed, thinking they were rats or deformed chihuahuas. As a few of the demons ran off into the night out the window, Amanda saw the tiny maquettes growing larger and larger until some of them became the sizes they were originally designed to be. Trees crackled under the power of their grip as they shoved branches aside and scattered into the darkness.

Her den was ransacked. Half of her creations had vanished. Drawers askew. Display cases shattered. Most every maquette and sculpture was gone.

Everything was glowing with a strange green light that slowly began to fade as the fiends disappeared into the night.

Amanda and Scott just stared at each other. Both of them trying to catch their breath.

Finally Amanda just started to cry. Not in fear or anger or pain, just purely out of confusion and trauma.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Scott was still naked. Amanda had lost her towel as well. He spun her around and was feeling her up and down, checking her body for wounds. “Baby? Did they hurt you? Did you get shot? Are you alright? Are you alright, baby?”

Still unable to speak, she nodded faster and faster between her sobs.

Finally it burst out of her, “Yes! Yes! I’m fine. I’m fine. Stop checking me. I’m okay. Are you?” She spun him around the same.

“Yeah, I think so. I think so. Do I look okay?” His hands joined hers in patting himself down.

“Yeah. Yeah. You look fine. You’re okay.” Amanda sniffled and shoved a palm up her face.

“Hey, are you two - WHOA! I’m sorry!” A neighbor called from the shattered front doorway, then she turned away, embarrassed as Amanda and Scott were buck naked.

Looking down at themselves, they realized they needed to get some clothes on. More neighbors were gathering in the hallway and Amanda no longer had a front door to shut.

Grabbing some couch pillows, the young couple covered themselves. Amanda called out as she and Scott rushed back to the bedroom, “Uh, yes, Mrs. Sinatra. We’re fine.”

Once they locked themselves in the bedroom, Scott turned to his girlfriend. “Baby? What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know! How am I supposed to know?”

“Your sculptures came to life! And are running down the goddamn street!?” Scott’s voice cracked as he slipped a t-shirt over his head.

“I - I don’t know.” Amanda nearly fell over, trying to step into a pair of underwear while she was still trembling in utter horror.

“Who were those guys? And why was the FBI here? Were those really FBI agents?”

“Scott, I don’t know! I’m just as confused as you are! Would you stop asking me questions!?”

“I’m sorry! I just want to know what’s going on!”

“I don’t know either! I’m just as confused as you are!”

“What are you yelling at me for!?”

“Because you started yelling at me!”

Scott sighed. With a deep breath, he held his palms to her. His tone became gentle. “Okay. Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I just had a door kicked in on me! Fucking aliens jumping out of my den! And you think I know what’s going - ” Amanda froze. Realization flashed through her eyes.

Scott remained calm. “I know. I know. Let’s just figure out what the hell is - Sweetie?”

Amanda stopped crying and looked at her boyfriend. “Oh, my God.”

Fully dressed, she ran out of the bedroom.

“Amanda!?”

When she got to her livingroom, Mrs. Sinatra was nailing up a black blanket over Amanda’s front doorway. “To give you some privacy.”

Amanda frowned, touched by her courteousness. “Mrs. Sinatra, you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s not much, but it’s something.”

A few other neighbors kept poking their heads in.

“My God, what happened?”

“Are you both okay?”

“Everything all right?”

“Is anybody hurt?”

“Did somebody call the fire department?”

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE CEILING!?”

Scott and Amanda assured everyone they were okay.

When she thought no one was going to poke their head in the blanket anymore, Amanda grabbed The Wand off the carpet and rushed back to her den.

“Amanda? What are you doing?” Scott asked.

Amanda nervously glanced at the blanket. She didn’t want any neighbors to see this. Amanda was muttering under her breath, “Please don’t work. Please don’t work.”

She pointed The Wand at a laser gun in a display case and said, “Abracadabra!”

Green light piqued out of The Wand and swirled around all six guns in the case. Amanda gasped and dropped The Wand.

“Jeezus!” Scott startled and fell back against the wall.

Amanda lunged up to the cabinet and pulled out one of the guns. Her palms tingled fear the second she touched it. No longer a lightweight prop of painted styrofoam and plastics, this weapon had become real metal and carbon fiber. Leaping over to the broken window, she pointed it at the patch of grass in the yard below. Checking that no one was walking around or carrying out their trash to the dumpster, she squeezed the trigger.

“Amanda, what are you ? - ”

The laser blast fired a crater two feet deep and three feet across in the grass. That was the lowest setting.

Amanda screamed and nearly dropped the gun.

“Holy crap!” Scott sprang over to the window sill, then spun to his girlfriend, “Amanda!?”

“The Wand.” She said solemnly, as she looked at it across the room.

“The Wand?”

“That’s what those two guys were looking for. You heard him. He was being all nice until he saw it. That’s when he kicked the door in. And that one guy told the other guy to grab it before the Dreadator came out.”

There was a long and silent pause between the lovers.

Scott slowly nodded and replayed the events himself. Gradually, he understood. He had read The Three Rules on the placard. She was right. “A real magic wand. It made all your stuff come to life! Even - ”

“ - Even the laserguns.”

Scott staggered back, bracing himself up against the wall. His mind was racing over the connotations. One thing confused Scott. “Okay. Holy shit. Okay. But, hold on. First of all, who were those guys? How did they know about The Wand? How did they know you had it? And how did the FBI know about it!?”

“How am I supposed to know? They must have found Starship Earth had it. The guy at the store is the one who led them to me.”

“Well, how did they know a magic store had a real magic wand!? And why on earth would the store sell a real magic wand to the public?”

“I have no clue! Why do you keep asking me stuff that I have no way of knowing!? Besides, the guy in the store didn’t seem to have any idea it was there. He acted like he’d never seen it before.”

“So maybe someone stole it and hid it in the store?”

“I have no idea!”

In that moment, Scott realized the oblivious question he hadn’t asked. “Amanda? Why did you do this? You made all this stuff come to life! How did this happen?”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t do it on purpose. I was screwing around with The Wand when you were in the bathroom! Playing with it. And I pointed it at the Alienoid and said ‘Abracadabra’ and then I closed the door and went to answer the buzzer. I didn’t know! I didn’t do it deliberately!”

Amanda started to cry.

“Oh, God.” Rocking back and forth, she dropped the gun. “I killed them! I killed all those guys! It’s all my fault!”

Scott suddenly felt awful for being so accusatory.

He was so stressed and panicked, he didn’t stop to consider the full ramifications of what he had just said to her. But she was right. He was pointing out that what she had done was tantamount to murder. At least “involuntary manslaughter” anyway. That wasn’t his intention. He was just stunned at the turn of events and was blown away by the fact that his girlfriend caused this astonishing thing to happen.

For a moment, he was going to apologize for what he said, then he stopped himself. He didn’t want to call attention to the fact that he inadvertently called her a murderer. Best to just drop it and console her. “Baby, no. No, you didn’t. You didn’t kill them.”

“Yes, I did!”

“Baby, it was an accident. You didn’t know. How could you possibly know your sculptures would come to life when you’re playing around with a staff you bought at a magic store?”

When he said it out loud, the ridiculousness of it really sank in for Amanda. Scott was right. There was no way she could have known. She didn’t know the aliens would come to life. She didn’t know the Irish mafia, or whoever they were, would kick in her door 30 seconds later, or that the FBI was right behind them. This was all happening too fast. There was no reason to feel guilty. Besides, she was clearly the only person in history to kill mafia thugs and FBI agents by accidentally animating gargantuan alien sculptures with a magic wand. Right? This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing people warned you to be careful about.

She wiped her tears and started to pull herself together.

“Of course. You’re right. You’re right.”

In the distance, outside the window, they heard screams and explosions. A few apartments away, it looked like a demon was running across a rooftop.

As Amanda watched the shadowy figure, she shook her head. “Baby, it doesn’t matter. All the questions we have, it doesn’t matter.” She pointed out the window, “I have to stop this.”

She ran over to The Wand and brought it back to the window.

“Abracadabra!” She pointed it across the distance at the demon.

Green light blasted from the head of The Wand and slammed into the figure a quarter mile away.

It howled so loud, it sounded like it was in the next room.

Then it looked straight at Amanda and began to charge.

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit.” Scott repeated.

The demon began bounding over rooftops and trees, slamming through rooftop swimming pools and balconies. The noise made by the creature mixed with the tone of the gusting Santa Ana winds and all of the Los Angeles basin rang with the wail of being haunted.

It looked really pissed off.

Amanda tried again. “Oh, shit. Abracadabra! Abracadabra!”

Green bolts of sparkling light fired out of The Wand, but didn’t slow the demon an inch.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit!”

As the demon reached the building next door, a laserblast ripped past Amanda’s shoulder, exploding in the demon’s chest and sending his smoldering corpse crashing to the parking lot below.

Amanda turned around to find Scott holding the gun.

Scott sighed, grinned, and said smugly. “Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid.”

Amanda made a mental note.

If she and Scott ever break up, she will never date another person in the movie industry again.

Despite herself, Amanda chuckled.

She threw her arms around Scott and kissed him.

“That’s twice you saved me tonight.”

“Twice?”

“When those thugs burst in. You almost took a bullet for me! You didn’t hesitate to step right between us.” She kissed him again. Longer. The tickle of wet on her lips. In the craze of emotions, this was the first time the implications really hit home for Amanda. Scott didn’t hesitate to risk his own life to defend her.

In that moment, she realized she and Scott weren’t breaking up.

Not ever.

Amanda, mistakenly, never saw Scott as very brave or masculine, but now, she finally saw just how courageous he really was. Standing there with that laser pistol, he had become some mild-mannered superhero, ready to spring into action and save her the moment circumstances demanded it.

“Oh my God! Scott! That’s it! You’re a genius!”

“I am? I thought I was your hero. But, I’ll take genius too.”

“Baby, will you help me stop these things?”

“Are you kidding?” Scott cocked an eye towards the lasergun.

Amanda kissed him, “Okay. Come on, Captain Solo. We have to kidnap Superbman.”

“Whatever you say, bab - ... Wait. We have to do what!?”

Amanda grabbed half a dozen 1:32 scale models of battlecopters and gammatanks and mechwalkers as she snatched her car keys. Taking a few swords and making Scott go get her dufflebag to load up with weapons, she laid out the plan. “Obviously, I can’t undo the magic using The Wand. We just saw that isn’t going to work. So, we go to Hollywood and we find the guy who plays Superbman. You know? The street performers, outside Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. Don’t you see? A costumed impersonator of a superhero could become a real superhero with this wand! That’s his job. He can only use The Wand in his profession. We kidnap Suberbman and we give him The Wand. Then he can use it to stop the monsters.”

Scott stammered, “Uh. Oh. I. Um. Well... Okay?”

His girlfriend was either crazy or brilliant.

After the pair left the den, gusty Santa Ana winds grabbed ahold of Amanda’s ring binder, filled with sketches, and scattered it out the window. As the drawings hit the ground, residual sparks of green light fluttered like sequins over the pages and one of the monster illustrations began to move and crawl off the paper onto the grass.

§

As the two left the apartment, neighbors asked if they were okay. The lovers quickly replied they were fine and kept running towards the carport.

“What the hell are you talking about? His job? I’m - You’re losing me.”

“The Three Rules! Remember? This thing was sitting in my house for the last 3 days and you noticed that little placard thing before I did.”

“Oh. The rules! Okay. So?”

“So, what are the rules? Use it for 3 days. Use it in your profession. Pass it on. Well, it’s been three days! That means it’s going to stop working for me any minute!”

Scott understood where she was going. “Okay. That’s brilliant! There’s two big problems with your plan, my dear - we don’t know where Superbman lives. Plus, it says,” Scott grabbed The Wand, “‘secretly bequeath it to an anonymous stranger’. How do we give it to him without telling him about it?”

“That’s why we kidnap him. He won’t know who we are!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What? Kidnap him?” Scott replied sarcastically.

“We follow him after he leaves Hollywood Boulevard.”

“That’s a felony, Amanda. You understand? We kidnap a man, we are both going to jail for a very long time.”

“Fine. We’ll come up with something else.”

“It’s like midnight. There won’t even be anyone there on the street!”

“No, there’s a big Disney premiere at the El Capitan tonight. The costumed people always stay out late for that. He’ll still be there, but we have to hurry!”

As they jumped in her car and sped out of the apartment complex, the firetrucks began to arrive and bathe the street in the gore of flashbulb red.

When Amanda passed the entrance for the 101, Scott whipped his head around, “Baby! Where you going? You missed the highway.”

“We have a quick stop to make in Van Nuys first.”

“What? You just said we have to hurry!”

“Trust me. This is quicker.”

Moments later, the lovers peeled up to an old warehouse. Amanda jumped out, bringing the models with her.

“Grab The Wand.” She instructed.

Walking up to the warehouse door, she blasted it open with the lasergun.

“Amanda! What are you doing!?”

Carrying everything inside, she explained, “We shot parts of my last indy here.”

“Yeah, I know. I remember.”

“It’s the closest studio space I knew of, where we could hide this stuff.”

“What stuff?”

Amanda started to run into the giant warehouse space, setting models on the floor, forty feet away from each other.

Scott finally understood.

“Oh, no. No way! Are you serious right now?”

“What? Bad idea?”

“Bad idea? Are you kidding? This is awesome!”

“I just hope The Wand still works.”

“I just hope the old man got that tractor beam out of commission - ”

“- Shut up with the Star Wars quotes!”

Amanda held up The Wand.

“Abracadabra!”

Light flared and coiled around the models like a gymnastics ribbon. The vehicles pulsed two or three times each, growing larger each time.

Within 15 seconds, the warehouse was full of advanced tactical gunships, wartanks, and even a twenty foot tall bipedal mechwarrior exoskeleton.

“Wow!” Scott gaped.

Even Amanda was shocked. Building scale models was one thing. Seeing these vehicles for real was something else entirely.

“Are you sure we can drive these things?” Scott asked, scrunching his eyebrows.

“I invented them,” Amanda explained, “I’m expecting if they came from my own imagination, then they’ll operate however I imagine too.”

Scott gestured chivalrously, “Ladies first.”

Amanda grinned and headed towards the massive battlecopter.

Just before she climbed into the cockpit, she paused.

She looked down, hand on the latch, unmoving.

“Darlin’? What is it?” Scott wondered.

Lowering her head, she didn’t look at her boyfriend, but kept staring into the dark warehouse as she asked, “Baby? You really think we should do this?”

He gently turned to her, “Sweetheart, we work in the movie industry. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been waiting to do something like this all my life!”

“Yeah, but after the movies, you get to go home. We could actually die. Maybe we should just let the cops handle this.”

“Cops? Okay. Sure. What do you want to tell them? ‘Hey, guys, I accidentally made a few giant monsters who are going around the city killing people. Could you stop them, please?’ You really want to go to the authorities with a story like that? They either won’t believe you and lock you in an asylum, or they will believe you and throw you in prison.”

Amanda’s eyes darted back and forth, bouncing off the scenarios in rapid fire succession, realizing her boyfriend was right.

“Well, what if we just let other people call the police? I mean, you know people are calling the cops by now.”

“So you just want to bury your head in the sand? Amanda, I don’t mean to sound cruel, but you made these things. Every drop of blood they shed is on your hands. You really want to sit back and do nothing?”

“I know!” Amanda screamed. “First you tell me it’s just an accident. Now you’re blaming me!?”

Scott felt awful to lay such a heavy guilt-trip on her, but if he didn’t say something to snap her out of this, he knew she was about to go fetal on the floor. “Baby, listen to me. It was an accident. But that doesn’t absolve you from responsibility.”

“It’s your fault too! I bought that stupid wand for you.”

“Yes. I know you did, baby. And because of that, and because I love you, I’m in this with you. That’s why I’m standing here and why I’m at your side. You are absolutely right. I share a responsibility too. I won’t deny that. But sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves, or running away, or letting other people handle this, isn’t going to help.”

Amanda sighed. Damn. Her handsome boy was really manning up tonight. She was impressed. “You’re right.”

“Then let’s do something about this! Look, you already have The Wand. You have to give it away. Giving it to Superbman is not much more difficult than giving it to anyone else. Since you have to get rid of it anyhow, don’t you think you should give it to someone who can help us fix this mistake?”

Amanda paused long enough to grab two deep breaths. Her eyes still darted. “Yeah... Okay... You’re right. You’re right. Obviously. I’m just scared out of my mind.”

“Me too, baby. But don’t worry. It’ll all work out. Let’s just get - ”

SKKKKRAM!

The two demons came crashing through the wall in a cloud of dust and twisted sheetmetal.

“Oh, shit!” Amanda abandoned the battlecopter and sprinted towards the tank.

Scott immediately started running for the mech.

Growling, the demons stared at Amanda and began striding right past her. As he scaled the ladder up the mechwarrior toward to the cockpit, Scott shouldered his laser rifle and fired.

A flash of red light and a crater of concrete dust was blown into the floor of the warehouse.

Missed.

“Damnit!”

The laser blast made the demons howl and start charging.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Scott fired again.

Direct hit.

The demon was knocked clear off his feet and slid across the dusty floor in a ten foot trail of its own blood.

Scott clamored higher up the ladder.

The second demon charged faster.

“Why the hell don’t they chase her? Both have to come after me?” Scott mumbled.

As the demon got closer, Scott spun around to fire again.

The gun slipped out of his hand.

“HEY!”

Amanda had a pulsar bazooka on her shoulder.

Ignoring her, the demon continued to run towards Scott.

The shot from the bazooka slammed the demon through the wall and left his smoldering corpse sizzling on the street outside.

“That’s what you get for ignoring your creator, asshole.”

Scott was hyperventilating. “Holy shit.” Forcing a grin, he said, “They’re, uh, they’re a lot scarier up close. What was it you said about dying?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Where the hell did you get that?”

Glancing at the bazooka, Amanda said, “Oh, this? It was in the tank. Took me a second to go grab it. Sorry. Didn’t mean to leave you hanging.”

“No. No. That’s cool. Not a problem.”

Amanda grinned.

“Why did they totally ignore you?”

“You killed their brother.”

“Brother?”

“Out my apartment window.”

“Great! Triplet demons?”

Amanda chuckled uncomfortably. She didn’t have the heart to tell him those particular demons were a litter of eight brothers.

“Let’s get out of here.” Amanda said, rushing back to the battlecopter.

§

Scott snuck back out of Superbman’s apartment in Los Feliz to rendezvous with Amanda, their vehicles hidden by autopilot in Griffith Park. Scott had followed Superbman into his building, watched him enter his place, and left The Wand in the hallway outside his apartment door. Scott knocked on his door and ran, nearly knocking an elderly neighbor over as he bounded multiple stairs back down the staircase. The whole time, Amanda instructed him to be careful never to speak to Superbman, never to make eye contact, never to be seen. She couldn’t be sure what qualified as an “anonymous stranger”, so she was careful to never interact with Superbman in any way whatsoever. To assure he remained a truly anonymous stranger, Amanda didn’t even know what Superbman looked like. She made Scott do everything.

“I still say we should have kidnapped him.” Amanda whispered as they rushed out of the lobby.

“No, Amanda! We don’t know anything about kidnapping anyone. We’re not criminals! Too many things can go wrong. No. Kidnapping is crazy. Now what’s your plan?”

“Now we wait.”

“Wait?”

“Yes. Hopefully, he uses The Wand and does something with his powers. Then we come back and we knock on his door and tell him what happened.”

“What!? That’s it? That’s your plan!? What if he’s like you and just lets it sit around for 3 days? Meanwhile, we have demons and aliens terrorizing the city.”

“What else are we supposed to do? I told you we should kidnap him! Then we could tie him up alone in a room with The Wand and he’d have no choice but to play around with it.”

“Right. Because the first thing kidnapping victims want to do is play with a staff that might be a magic wand when they’re alone in a room with one. Amanda, that’s a terrible idea!”

As they exited the building and started walking back to the park, Amanda defended herself. “I don’t know what else to do! What kind of plan did you come up with?”

“Hey, I kept my mouth shut out of respect to you. I figured you’d come up with a great idea! If I had known your plan was just going to be waiting around doing nothing, I would have tried to come up with something.”

Superbman had gone out to a late breakfast with some of the other costumed heroes. Scott and Amanda were forced to wait for hours before they could track him home. Rumors of weird monsters roaming the city was starting to spread over the Internet and on early morning news reports. Many news channels were just ignoring it, until some reporters started listening to the police bands. No one had a clear grasp of what was happening. The sun was nearly up.

“How long you think it will be before Superbman tries using The Wand to - ”

“WOOHOO! YEAHHHH!” Out of a deafening explosion of wood and plaster, Superbman blasted through of the roof of his apartment building and went streaking across the sky faster than a speeding rocket and more powerful than a stampeding stagecoach.

“ - I guess not too long.” Amanda shrugged. “Okay, come on!”

The boyfriend and girlfriend ran back into his apartment building, scampered up the stairs, and waited outside his door.

Chapter Eight

Dan Christopherson gently glided back through the hole in the roof of his apartment, his red cape fluttering behind him while his black spitcurl fell back into place.

He couldn’t believe it.

He flew.

He actually flew!

When he explored his powers, he froze part of the ocean with his superbreath. He picked up The Queen Mary in Long Beach like it was an origami boat. He outran a jet taking off from LAX.

Standing back in his livingroom, he frowned.

“Golly.” He mumbled, looking at the hole in his ceiling. “All these powers, and no idea how the heck I’m gonna fix that.”

A loud knock battered his front door.

From outside, he heard a muffled voice. “Superbman? Are you home?”

Superbman froze in a panic, then stumbled over the rubble piled next to his couch.

He had to keep a secret identity! He couldn’t allow anyone to know who he was! Or where he lived! Every superhero story tells you that!

The voice came again. “Superbman, I can hear you walking around! I know you’re home! Open the door! My name is Amanda Baker. I left you the magic wand that gave you your powers!”

The door unlatched.

Amanda and Scott stood face-to-face with the world’s first superhero.

“We need to talk.”

§

All things considered, Superbman took the news really well.

Amanda created monsters by mistake.

Gave him The Wand to become a real superhero.

Will he help them save the city?

“Are you kidding? You’ve made a wish come true that I’ve had my whole life! Of course I’ll help you!”

Scott and Amanda smiled and jumped off the couch. “Awesome! Let’s go!”

“Whoa. Whoa. Wait a second. Hold on. Sit back down.” Superbman motioned.

Amanda looked irritated. Then she panicked. Was he going to turn her in? Take her to jail, then fight the monsters himself?

Scott cast up his palms. “We’re in kind of a hurry.”

“Please.” Superbman motioned to the couch again.

The couple sat back down.

“You say your ships are in Griffith?”

“We hid them in the valley behind the Batcave.” Amanda explained, still slightly worried about what he was getting at.

“Okay. I know where that is. Hang on tight.”

Superbman grabbed the couch and lifted it over his head.

Amanda shrieked, clutching the cushions. “Hey, what are you -”

“Hang on tight!” Superbman commanded.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no. We can walk!”

“Yeah. Yeah. Walking’s good!” Scott agreed, gripping the backrest.

“Watch your heads.” Superbman hoisted the couch through the hole in the ceiling as Scott and Amanda screamed and held each other, then immediately let go, and grabbed the back of the couch.

They were back to their ships in 60 seconds.

Plus they each aged 10 years.

§

Dusting himself off, Scott muttered, “Let’s make a superhero. That will be a great idea!”

Amanda sucked in her cheek and gritted her teeth. “Baby, I love you with all my heart. But we haven’t gone to sleep all night, I’m exhausted, I’m scared, I’m wracked with guilt, I’ve had guns pointed in my face, FBI agents and mafia thugs were murdered in my livingroom, demons have nearly killed us twice, I think I just pissed my pants flying over Hollywood on a couch, and now I have to go fight aliens that I created. So one more snotty remark and I’m seriously punching you in the mouth.”

Before Scott could apologize, Superbman spoke up, “So, what’s the plan, commander?”

She liked the sound of that.

As Scott and Amanda climbed into their ships, Amanda explained, “When we fought the demons in the warehouse, I used the scanners in the battlecopter gunship to record energy signatures off their corpses. Sure enough, these creatures have a weird and unique electromagnetic and infrared fingerprint. Homing in on those energy readings, plus scanning all the police bands, we should be able to find most of these things. All the data for tracking the monsters in my battlecopter is synched with the systems of Scott’s mechwarrior, so both of our ships are working off concurrent information. I suggest we start a sweep in a ten mile radius, centered on the point of origin - my apartment. Superbman, here’s a headset so you can stay in permanent radio contact with Scott and myself. Any questions?”

“I have one question.” Scott spoke up.

“What’s that?”

“Well, we’re going to be flying around Los Angeles in broad daylight with a fictional gunship, a giant mechwarrior, and a comic book hero. What do we tell the police when they inevitably start chasing us with helicopters?”

“Both of our ships have EMP tachyon cannons. You can harmlessly knock out any police vehicles. They’ll be forced to land and no one will be hurt. Try not to get arrested until after we kill all the monsters.”

“Cute. What the hell are EMP tachyon cannons?”

“They don’t exist. Science fiction. I made them up as part of the specification for these ships.”

“Cool.” Scott nodded. “They fire a concentrated EMP pulse?”

“Yep.”

“You know there’s no such thing.”

“Yep.”

“Okay. So you think they’ll actually work?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

“We all set then?” Superbman asked.

“All set.” Amanda nodded.

“All set.” Scott confirmed.

As he prepared the mechwarrior for takeoff, Scott was talking to himself in the cockpit. “I came home from 16 hour days on a movie set, eager to get home and go to bed. Instead, over the course of 8 hours I have sex with my girlfriend, get a gun pointed in my face, shoot a demon with a lasergun, create a superhero, and pilot a mechwarrior around the city, looking to kill aliens and monsters.”

“Welcome to Los Angeles.” Superbman replied over the radio.

“Did you have to mention the sex?” Crackled Amanda’s voice.

Scott was mortified. “Damnit! Baby, I’m sorry! Was the radio on? How the hell do you turn this thing off?”

Before Amanda could answer, a marrow-freezing howl echoed off the canyon walls and slithered through the Batcave. That was no bobcat.

“We need to get moving!”

§

The team wisely presumed the two largest energy signatures would represent the Alienoid and the Dreadator, although there was no way to tell which signature marked which creature.

Superbman traced one of the two largest energy signatures to Los Angeles International Airport. As he flew towards the airport, the smoke could be seen for miles.

The destruction at LAX was far worse than he would have imagined.

Planes torn in two. Craters in the tarmac. Police and firefighter emergency crews darting around like ants on a water-sprayed anthill. The firefighters even had those fancy eHAND trucks they showed on the news.

For all the chaos, there didn’t seem to be any trace of whatever creature had caused all the destruction.

Superbman circled again as he checked in with the others. “Amanda? There’s no sign of the creature at LAX. Can you retrack it for me?”

“Little busy at the moment.” Amanda announced, her voice crackling in the earpiece, explosions and demon roars shearing across the background.

Scott’s voice came over the com. “Superbman. I have it. The signature is moving east along the 105 near Crenshaw at about 70MPH. Must be in a vehicle.”

Flying a mile straight up, Superbman gazed in the direction of the 105 and Crenshaw interchange. Among the busy traffic of freight trucks and civilian vehicles, an armored SWAT truck was just passing that location.

“Target reacquired. Thank you, Scott.”

Superbman streaked through the air in a blue and red smear, reaching the SWAT vehicle in seconds.

The driver and his partner were clearly shaken. Whatever cargo they were carrying, they were freaked out by it.

“Charlie,” the officer in the passenger seat cowered to his partner, “I don’t like this, man. I don’t like this one bit. What if that thing wakes up before we get it to the station?”

Charlie replied, “Would you shut up? That’s the third time you’ve asked me that!”

“Well, I’m just saying! We don’t have any way to stop it if -”

“ - Gentlemen!” Superbman shouted and greeted the officers as he flew along side them, “I need you to pull over and exit your vehicle and turn your prisoner over to me!”

“What the f - !” Charlie looked below Superbman, wondering what the hell he was standing on. What was he strapped to? Glancing in the rearview mirror he wondered if there was a truck behind them with some kind of pole lance jousting in front.

Nope.

Superbman was strapped to no such thing.

“What in the hell is that!?” Charlie’s partner squeaked.

Clearly, they weren’t stopping.

“Gentlemen, please. We haven’t much time. For your own safety, kindly remain in your vehicle.”

Superbman then reached under the SWAT truck and picked it up into the air. The police officers screamed in a panic. Cars on the 105 blared horns and slammed brakes. Tires squealed rubber streaks as drivers looked up in the sky to see what some thought was a bird, or a plane, but was Superbman.

Because he didn’t want the panicking driver to hit the gas and go careening off somewhere, Superbman ripped the driveshaft off the truck before gently setting the vehicle down in an abandoned field just off the highway.

“Officers.” Superbman addressed the men. “Please, I must ask you again to exit the vehicle and - ”

The rear of the truck exploded in a massive laserblast, launching the cabin of the truck into the air.

Dazed by the blinding light and unexpected explosion, Suberbman was knocked backwards only to see the cabin hurtling twenty feet through the air, back towards the highway.

The flimsy cabin would impact the road in seconds.

The SWAT officers were again screaming for their lives.

Superbman didn’t envy the report they’d have to write today.

Firing into the air, Superbman grabbed the cabin moments before it slammed into the freeway. Setting it down by the Los Angeles Southwest College baseball diamond, he looked to their well-being.

“Are you alright?”

The officers nodded, palming their bodies. “I think so.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m okay.”

The next laserblast barely grazed him, but it knocked Superbman off his feet.

Looking up, he saw the Dreadator snarl and turn back towards LAX, growling just before he activated his cloaking device.

Clearly, the Alienoid must have gotten the best of the Dreadator and knocked him unconscious. There was no way the police could have possibly gotten the Dreadator into the SWAT truck otherwise.

Superbman felt his limbs tingling.

Going weak.

What happened?

“Amanda? Amanda, come in. Do you read me?”

“I read you Superbman, what’s up?”

“What the darn heck kind of lasergun does the Dreadator have?”

“Lasergun? It’s a Karbesium fusion reacto - wait. Who cares? Why are you asking me - ”

“Karbesium?”

“Yeah. Why ? - oh, crap.” Realization hit Amanda.

Superbman, Scott and Amanda all said the same thing, at the same time: “The one weakness of Superbman.”

“Damn. I’m sorry, Superbman! I didn’t think of - ”

“ - Hey, you wanna trade?” Scott asked right away. “You come take the Alienator, I’ll get the Dreadator.”

They may not have known which beast they were taking on at first, but once they realized Superbman had the Dreadator, it was obvious what Scott was hunting.

“No, thanks, Scott. I’ve got this. Superbman out.” Superbman climbed to his feet and dusted himself off.

Firing into the sky above a tornado of dirt, he blasted through the air after the Dreadator. Just had to make sure he never takes a direct hit.

§

Amanda had traced the smaller signatures to Griffith Observatory.

The demons and imps were all clustered atop the plateau. A few smartbullet Gatling rockets and it would be all over. As she circled the mountaintop in the battlecopter, the HUD locked on target.

Instantly she powered down her weapons.

The demons were gathering the first busloads crowds of screaming tourists and herding them onto the lawn in front of the observatory.

She couldn’t open fire.

The resulting explosions would surely injure too many civilians.

Hovering the battlecopter over the giant obelisk at the far end of the lawn, Amanda rappelled down to the grass, minigun laser in one hand, laserpistol in the other.

Civilians and demons alike, both turned to the sky as Amanda descended.

The demons charged.

Amanda began firing before she even hit the ground.

Civilians scattered.

As Amanda blasted three of the lead demons, an imp flashed a firewhip, sizzling the air and splitting her cable.

“Oh, crap!”

Amanda tumbled to the ground, thankfully only a few feet from touching down when the cable was severed.

She charged, the minigun ripping into imp and demon alike.

The mountaintop pulsed with red like a danceclub. Firewhips tore the ground as she dove for cover. Laserflashes barbequed demons left and right.

Hiding behind the obelisk, Superbman’s voice came over the commlink. “Amanda? There’s no sign of the creature at LAX. Can you retrack it for me?”

“Little busy at the moment.”

§

The mechwarrior traced Scott’s assigned signal to the top floor of 633 West 5th Street, a seventy-three story skyscraper in downtown Los Angeles.

The helipad atop the tower was coated in a strange glossy black material, clearly organic and formed into weird spiraled rows of grotesque honeycombs. The material oozed down the sides of the tower in an erratic mass of rivulets.

Landing his mech atop the helipad, his readings were off the charts.

Apparently, the organic shell of whatever the hell that stuff was gave off the same signature as the Alienoid itself. Whereever the creature was in that building, Scott wouldn’t be able to find it until it showed itself.

“Come on out, you freaky little beast.” Scott muttered, scanning the edges of the helipad. He glanced down in a panic. Whew! Good. Comlink was off.

§

Superbman landed at the airport only moments after the Dreadator.

With much of the terminal in ruins, most civilians had been evacuated while emergency crews still tried to quench fires and tend to the injured.

“Where did it go?” Superbman asked the nearest firefighter.

The fireman, stunned at just having seen one of his childhood comic book heroes drop from out of the sky, said nothing.

“Alright, hold it right there!” A police officer shouted from the mangled windowframe of the terminal, his gun poised on Superbman.

Superbman held up his hands, “Officer, I’m on your side. The creature escaped from the SWAT van and has returned to the airport.”

Another officer approached, rapping his buddy on the shoulder, “Hey, that thing is back! The other side of the terminal! The other side!”

The firemen scattered.

Superbman launched into the sky.

The officer at the window shouted, “I said don’t - !... move?”

Both cops stared as Superbman flew over their heads to the other side of the terminal.

The first officer holstered his gun. “Did you just see?”

“No,” his partner said, “we’re pretending this part didn’t happen.”

“Right.”

Standing near a destroyed passenger jet, the Dreadator used some sort of scanning device. Superbman noticed whatever it was radiated a distortion like heatwaves. However, nothing touched by the waves appeared to be suffering damage.

Dreadator was clearly looking for something.

That was when the realization finally hit him.

Dreadator didn’t destroy the airport for kicks. He was hunting Alienoid. This carnage was the aftermath of their fight. The Dreadator would have regarded the airport as incidental collateral damage, if he had any thought to regard it at all. The monster moved around the destruction, oblivious to the bloody tragedy of lost lives.

While distracted, Superbman landed behind the creature, hiding amidst the debris of a Boeing 737 passenger jet.

Locking onto a rerouted signal, the strange Dreadator scanner chirped and whirred when it found the Alienator track, leading back into Downtown Los Angeles. The Dreadator shouted a reverberating and eerie battle cry at the skyscrapers twelve miles away.

Superbman grabbed ahold of a forty-foot severed wing. Metal squealed across concrete. Superbman carried it airborne quick as a viper bite, but he was still too slow.

Hearing the noise of the wing being lifted, the Dreadator had already spun around to attack.

Superbman hurled the wing at the same time the Dreadator fired his Karbesium beam. The gunblast tore the wing apart. Light shattered the jet engine like toilet paper. Hitting Superbman in the right arm, the shot rocketed him into an uncontrolled spin slamming his limp body through the windows of the Theme Building.

Superbman felt his strength drain out of him like the paralyzed terror a child feels as they slowly awaken from wetting the bed.

One shard of the wing bashed the Dreadator directly in the chest, dragging him screeching across the tarmac into an already burning blaze of jet fuel.

§

Amanda dove out from her cover as a firewhip shattered the pillar of stone above her head. “Sunofabish!”

Rubble came crashing down towards her. As she leapt from behind the obelisk, a basketball-sized chunk whacked her left arm, knocking her handgun to the dirt. Amanda shouted in pain as the blood ran down her shoulder.

Demons chuckled in the smoke.

Amanda’s rage was no match for a mountain full of demons.

Screaming, Amanda ran full bore into the fray, minigun waves of fury tearing crater after crater into the ground like a hundred little meteor strikes. Dirt flew thick into the wind until all the air looked like chocolate powder.

Demons wailed and their dying voices echoed off the valleys and canyons like childhood nightmares.

Sizzling, a firewhip lanced through the smoke and coiled onto the end of the minigun. As the fire wrapped around the spinning canon, the imp at the other end of the whip was yanked into the air and twirled two dozen times in seconds as bullets strafed his arm and ribs. The monster shrieked a tone to split plate glass.

The end of the minigun sizzling red hot, Amanda threw off the bandoleer and bashed the imp across the head with the butt of her gun, killing the dizzy little demon instantly.

Amanda drew a sword she never needed to use.

Brandishing her blade in the dustcloud, she awaited the next attack.

It never came.

As the clouds of soot began to settle, not one demon remained standing. Amanda stood heroic and victorious over the battlefield.

§

Scott was tentatively peering into one of the eerie catacomb tubes on the roof of the skyscraper when he heard approaching repulsor engines of the Dreadator jetpack howling.

The Dreadator was charred and burned. The alien smelled like a septic tank full of decapitated Rastafarian heads with their dreadlocks on fire. Inside the mechsuit, Scott couldn’t smell this, but the Alienoid did.

As Scott turned to face the Dreadator, the Alienoid came bounding out of one of the honeycomb tunnels, hitting Scott in the shoulder.

The Alienoid and the Dreadator didn’t even pay attention to Scott being there. They were locked back in their epic battle.

Tracer laser blasts riddled the rooftop as the Alienoid bashed the Dredator in the face with bony clawed hands.

Scott focused a shoulder mounted laser at the two and fired.

The Dreadator’s gun was hit by the blast, exploding and knocking the Alienoid and Dreadator apart.

A streak appeared in the sky.

“Don’t have all the fun without me.” Superbman said.

“Still plenty of fun to be had here, Superbman.” Scott replied.

Superbman smiled. Not because he was excited by the fight, but because he still couldn’t get over the thrill of being addressed as Superbman. Sure, people called him that on Hollywood Boulevard for years. But it’s different when it’s not just a costume and you can actually live up to the name.

Plus, he always wanted to say corny one-liners like an action movie.

The Dreadator turned to see Superbman approaching.

Although the monster knew no emotions like fear or panic, and to read an emotion on it’s grotesque face wasn’t really possible, it was clearly intimidated to go against Superbman without the benefits of the Karbesium gun.

“Hey, buddy. Remember me?” Superbman asked.

Scott grabbed the fallen Alienoid and it shoved off the rooftop. Whipping around, it grabbed the ankle of the mech. Scott had no idea it was so strong. They flew off the structure and before he could reorient himself to fly, Scott and the Alienoid slammed through the plate glass of the skyscraper across the street.

The Dreadator locked an accompaniment of mini missiles onto Superbman and fired. They hit him square in the chest, exploding in a blinding flash. The Dreadator, naively thinking that had stopped his enemy, turned to retrack the Alienoid.

Superbman stepped unscathed out of the explosion and slammed the Dreadator in a tackle. The Dreadator shrieked as they tumbled off the edge of the helipad onto the roof of the 60th floor.

Office people screamed and ran from the room as the Alienoid and Scott plowed over cubicle walls and computer desks. An entire two floors were decimated from their impact. Scott turned and locked massive metal hands around the beast. Rocketing back out of the building, he spotted Superbman and the Dreadator on the rooftop below.

“Throw him!” Scott ordered.

Superbman complied.

As the comic hero gripped the Dreadator by the chest and hurled him skyward, Scott did the same to the Alienoid.

Both creatures cracked into each other in midair. You could hear bones snap in both of them as Scott fired a forearm rocket launcher into their tangled mass.

The rocket blast shoved their bodies into one of the holes of the honeycomb structure. Detonating seconds later, tendrils of fire snaked out of two dozen holes all over the rooftop.

Screaming death rattles, the flaming bodies of the Alienoid and Dreadator plummeted to the ground more than seven-hundred feet below.

Before their bodies even hit the concrete, Scott was rocketing towards his girlfriend on top of Mount Hollywood.

There was a brief crackle of static and Scott heard Amanda’s voice come over the radio.

§

Standing over the ruined lawn with the bodies of the devils and imps all around her, Amanda radioed her boyfriend, “Scott? You there? Everything okay? What happened?”

“Yeah, baby. We’re fine. The Alienator and the Dredator are dead. Superbman and I are 30 seconds away. You okay? Can’t see you in all the smoke.”

“I’m fine, baby. Mission accomplished.”

As the winds cleared the air, Scott came flying to her side.

“Check the scanners?” Amanda asked.

“Affirmative,” answered Scott. “The mountaintop is clear.”

Amanda’s posture relaxed. She hadn’t realized how tense she had been until she heard those words.

Hidden tourists who had scattered all over the grounds were coming out from behind trees and up cliffsides and the lee of cars.

The ground shook with a thud as the mechwarrior landed.

Superbman touched down gently, the tourists gasping and filming with countless smartphones and digital cameras.

Scott ran to Amanda. “You did it, baby!”

Laughing, she met him halfway and they crushed each other with hugs and kissing.

“Ow. Ow! Baby, watch the arm.” Amanda groaned.

Scott saw the blood and freaked out. “You’re hurt!? You need a hospital? We need to get you to a hospital!”

“No, no. It’s a scrape. It looks worse than it is.” Amanda moved her arm to prove it, but winced a little. “See? I can still move it. Nothing is broken. A little sore. A little bloody, but I’m fine.”

“I love you.” Scott was brokenhearted with puppydog eyes. He couldn’t stop staring at her. In all the time they had been together, he still felt like a schoolboy with a crush.

An old woman approached from the crowds and came towards Amanda, her frail body trembling, “Thank you. Thank you! You saved us.”

Clapping started soft and slowly grew louder.

The sirens announced the approach of police and emergency vehicles as the news vans began to barrel up the hill.

“We better get out of here.” Amanda said between gritted teeth as she waved to the adoring crowd.

“Agreed!” Superbman announced.

Scott kissed Amanda again, then scurried back to the mech.

Superbman launched into the air and a collective gasp escaped from the crowd. News crew cameras were just catching quick glimpses of the three heroes as they departed from the mountaintop.

The mech took off into the sky and Amanda dashed away from the people and towards the observatory staircase, recalling her remote controlled battlecopter and grabbing the frayed cable that wooshed her back up into the cockpit.

Within seconds, the three of them had vanished, flying back down towards Hollywood, with throes of people aiming cameras to the sky.

§

“This is the Los Angeles Police Department. You are in violation of civilian airspace. You are hereby ordered to immediately proceed due east to the Griffith Helipad and land your aircraft at latitude 34.123684, longitude -118.285305.”

Superbman still had his radio and told the young couple, “You two head on home and get some rest. I’ll clear the skies for you.”

The police hadn’t even noticed Superbman. He was so tiny in the sky compared to a giant battlecopter and a flying mechwarrior, they never saw him.

Superbman blasted straight up into the air over the police helicopter and came straight down into the rotorblades, catching them in his hands. Police officers screamed as the helicopter began to plummet out of the sky. Before they dropped more than three feet, as the helicopter engine made awful sounds of ripping itself apart, Superbman grabbed hold of the fuselage. He gently eased the broken vehicle onto the lawn of the Roosevelt Municipal Golf Course, just at the bottom of mountain, below Griffith Observatory. The police stumbled out of the smoking helicopter completely unscathed, but stunned at the sight of a Hollywood Boulevard superhero come to life.

“Sorry, gentlemen.” Superbman announced. “My friends need a little privacy right now. They’ve had a long night.”

One cop nodded, slowly.

“Good morning, officers. Have a great day.”

Superbman gave a quick grin and vanished into the morning sky.

Chapter Nine

Superbman flew back to his apartment.

As he landed in his livingroom, he stared around at the rubble on the floor, and smiled at the space for his missing couch.

He thought of going back to retrieve it, but decided against it.

This had been a long night. He needed some rest. He could get it later.

Looking at The Wand in the corner, he wondered what else to do with it. After all, this was still technically his first day with it. He had all afternoon and two more days to go.

When you have three days to make all your dreams come true, how do you use the remaining two, if they all come true on the first day?

He’d think more clearly after a some sleep.

Going into his bathroom, he removed his costume and took a shower. Staring at himself in the mirror, he chuckled. He looked amazing. He was always in pretty good shape, but nothing like this. He was ripped. Toned. Muscular. He looked... like a superhero.

He spent an embarrassing amount of time flexing at his reflection and flirting with numerous imaginary women.

“Superbman, how can I ever repay you? Would you like to come back to my place? I’m sure I can think of some way to... thank you properly.”

“Why, there’s no need to thank me ma’am, but I would hate to insult your hospitality.”

Bom-chicka-wow-wow...

Would he ever be mild mannered Dan Christopherson again?

Or was he forevermore Superbman?

He showered, so he could finally get to bed.

Once he finished, he realized he wasn’t tired at all.

Did Superbman ever sleep?

Obviously his alter ego slept in the comics.

Uncertain of what might happen without sleep, he decided to catch some winks anyhow. Even if he didn’t physically require sleep, he could certainly use some rest mentally.

§

Superbman was awoken by a knock on his apartment door.

“Hang on. Hang on!”

Superbman fumbled for some slippers.

A woman’s voice came from outside the door, “Mister Christopherson? Zorina Kitt. KTLA News. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Damn.

What were they doing here!?

He looked around the livingroom in a panic.

Within seconds, he used his superb speed to clean every speck of dust and turn the distorted hole in his roof into a perfect rectangle. When they asked about the hole, he would say he was having a skylight installed. Yes. That was it!

Superbman didn’t lie, but he reasoned it wasn’t deceptive, so long as he honestly installed a skylight later.

Hearing the bizarre commotion inside the apartment, Zorina knocked again. “Mister Christopherson?”

“One moment!”

Opening the door, a film crew was already standing behind the stunning blonde with a microphone.

“May we get a statement from you?” Zorina asked, her eyes studying him.

“A statement? For what? I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What is this all about?”

“Well, Mr. Christopherson, you’ve been the token Superbman on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for years now and with all the reports of a real Superbman flying around Hollywood, we were wondering if you knew anything about these incidents.”

Superbman didn’t lie when he laughed, “A real Superbman? What are you talking about? What reports?”

An assistant handed Zorina a laptop. She pulled up some Internet videos of the battle from Griffith Observatory earlier that day. “These images here, for example. There are dozens of accounts on the Internet showing this video from this morning. No less than ten clips from different observers have been uploaded so far. Many people are speculating whether these videos are real or a hoax. But apparently, the dead bodies of demonic creatures atop Mount Hollywood are still there on the lawn. Not to mention this footage of a skirmish that took place in Downtown Los Angeles where the bodies of two unexplained creatures are still on Grand Avenue?”

Superbman, although disturbed by the amount of video evidence on the Internet, played it cool.

“Miss Kitt,” he said relaxed in the doorframe, “You’re right. I’m a street performer on Hollywood Boulevard. But what you’re talking about is crazy. This is Los Angeles, after all. Clearly, whatever is happening is probably just a movie shoot or a crazy viral marketing campaign or something. Now, I don’t know what kind of weird joke this is, but I can’t explain anything about demons or smoking monsters on Grand Avenue. ”

“Smoking? I didn’t say anything about them being on fire.”

Superbman’s shoulder stiffened. “Yes, you did. You said charred. Er, monsters.”

“I said unexplained creatures. I said nothing about them being burned.”

Superbman pointed at the laptop.

A video was titled Flaming Alienoid killed by Superbman.

Zorina, feeling silly, backed off.

“Please, Miss Kitt. This clearly looks like some strange hoax. Playing a superhero on the street doesn’t make me an authority on people doing superhero hoaxes.”

Superbman began to close the door on her.

“Wait! Mr. Christopherson. These closeups clearly show you to be the one at Griffith Oberv - ”

- SLAM!

Superbman stood there frozen for a long time.

What was he going to do?

This was not going to be as easy as he’d expected.

§

Mr. Electrico burst into Starship Earth, running straight back to the display of wizard staffs.

Muttering to himself, he fanned through them, “The Wand. The Wand. The Wand. Come on! Where is it?”

“Can I help you?” Stephen Kloski asked.

“Yes!” Mr. Electrico rushed over to the counter. “I’m looking for a staff you had here a few days back. About so high with a fancy bronze placard on it.”

Stephen’s smile drooped and his shoulders rolled away. “Not again.”

“Pardon me?”

“Are you with the FBI?”

“FBI?”

“Wouldn’t you know I sold that staff to a nice young girl a few days ago and this is the third time someone has come in here asking about it, including the FBI. Are you with the family who owned it?”

The family?

Mr. Electrico realized the thugs who jumped him had been there too.

He decided it would be best to mask his panic. He took a steadying breath and explained. “Yes. Yes, sir. The staff was actually mine. Some of my family members said they would check here, for me, but I haven’t talked to them. Connor and Mister Duncan, right?”

“Yes! That was them! I let them know who I sold it to. Her name was Amanda. Hold on, I’ll get her contact information for you.”

“Thank you. You’ve never seen another staff like it, have you?”

“No. I’m afraid that was the only one. I’ve never seen another like it.”

“I really appreciate your help.”

§

Amanda’s phone displayed a call from Mr. Electrico Entertainment.

She never heard of them.

New special effects client perhaps?

“Hello?”

“Hello. May I speak to Amanda Baker, please?”

“Speaking.”

“Hello, Miss Baker, my name is Douglas Bradbury. I’m calling regarding, well, a, uh, a very special staff that you may have purchased? From over at Starship Earth? A few days back?”

- click -

“Hello? Hello, Miss Baker?”

§

“Who was that?” Scott asked, tossing scraps of plaster into a trashbag.

Trembling, Amanda brushed hair from her eyes. “We have to leave.”

“What? We just got here. You said you wanted to clean up this mess.”

Her shaking came harder. “Just - we have to leave! We can’t stay here. Can we just go back to your place? Please? Right now!”

Scott dropped the trashbag and walked over to her. “Sure. Sure, baby. No problem. What happened? Are you okay? Who was that?”

Amanda was nearly in tears. “I think it was those mobsters again.”

Scott felt cold shivers down his back. He was lucky he didn’t get his head blown off last time. He didn’t want to go through that again. “Mobsters?”

“Yes! He was some guy asking about The Wand.”

Scott’s fear faded and he wasn’t worried at all. Since the mafia thugs had come there in person the first time, they sure wouldn’t make a phonecall the second time around. That didn’t make any sense. “Did they say they were mafia?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized what a dumb question that was.

Amanda looked at him like he was an idiot. “Yeah, Scott. What do you think they said? ‘Hi. We’re with the mafia! Are you home? We’d like to kill you!’”

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. That was stupid.”

“Honestly! Sometimes! You’re just so - ”

“ - I know! I’m sorry. Dumb question.”

“I think it was them. I want to leave! That should be enough!”

“Okay. Okay. I understand. We can go back to my place. But, baby, I don’t think they’d send armed men one day and just call on the phone the next.”

“I want to leave! Damnit! Why are you such an asshole!?”

“Baby, I’m not - ”

“ - If I’m terrified, you should be helping me!”

“I am sweetie! Listen - ”

“- Don’t sweetie me!”

Scott bristled. “Damnit, listen to me! I’m not trying to belittle you. I know you’re scared. I’m trying to point out that you might be jumping to conclusions that aren’t true. We’ll go to my place. Okay? Just like you want.”

“No. Fine. I’ll stay here. Why don’t you go to your place?”

Scott shouted in his deepest voice, something her rarely ever did. “Stop it! Okay!? Stop with the goddamn melodrama! I nearly got shot in the fucking face for you! Don’t you dare act like I’m not trying to protect you! I’m scared of that happening again too! Now shut your mouth! Get your shit! And come with me!”

Amanda blinked. Her eyebrows shivered. “Wow.”

“How was that?” Scott smiled, his voice gentle again.

“That got me a little horny.”

“Good. Can we go now?” Scott grinned, his blood still pumping.

“I’m sorry, boo.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m sure we have nothing to worry about. But, you’re right. Let’s go to my place, just to make sure.”

The phone rang again.

Mr. Electrico Entertainment.

“Let the machine get it.” Scott told her.

As she went to the bedroom to get some clothes, Scott turned down the volume.

In a few minutes, they were out the blanket her neighbor put over the gaping hole in Amanda’s doorway. She’d have to vacate the apartment while management did repairs, but she would just continue to stay with Scott until then.

Better yet, she hoped, maybe they’d just get a new place together.

She didn’t want to keep living in an apartment that spawned demons and killer aliens.

§

Amanda loved sleeping over Scott’s place.

The place felt like him. Smelled like him. She was like a cat in fresh sheets. Sometimes she even caught herself purring. Thank goodness he never caught her doing that.

The next day, they went to a matinee. A romantic comedy.

Amanda’s suggestion.

Scott couldn’t agree more.

After what they had just been through, a morning spent laughing at empty-headed jokes sounded like paradise.

Eating her post-movie ice cream, Amanda asked, “Can we stop by my place? I didn’t bring enough blouses.”

“Blouses?”

“I need to go back to work tomorrow. I like dressing up a little.”

“Sure. No problem. But aren’t you still worried about people showing up and - ”

Amanda waved off the comment like a cobweb. “ - No, no. You were right. Creepy mafia guys with guns aren’t going to call ahead of time. I was being paranoid.”

“Okay. Well, we’ll be careful anyway. Just in case.”

Scott was rewarded with a freezing-cold, caramel-pineapple kiss.

§

As Amanda and Scott approached her building, two news crews were swarmed all around the property.

“Oh, crap.”

“I really hope that’s not for me.” Amanda noted.

“You want to leave?”

“No. No. Let’s just get in and out really quick. Maybe they’re just talking to neighbors.”

Scott threw her optimism a sidelong scoff. “Amanda, please. There’s a 10 foot hole where your door was at and half your den is destroyed. Two robbers or gangsters or who knows what they were, along with two FBI agents, were dropped from forty feet in the air two blocks from your apartment. I’m sure those FBI agents told someone where they were going before they came to your place. I don’t think the media is going to ignore talking to you, just because you try to remain inconspicuous.”

“Good point.”

“I’ll go in for you.”

“No. You won’t get the right blouses.”

“I’ll text you pictures with the phone and you can tell me which ones to bring.”

“Hey, smart man. I knew I married you for something.”

Scott leaned back. “Married?”

Amanda really wasn’t making a joke. That just slipped. Totally on accident. “Well, you know, figuratively.”

“Uh, huh.” Scott replied with an unreadable smirk.

Crap. What did that mean? Amanda wondered.

“If anybody sees me trying to get in your place, I’m not doing it. I’m not risking getting arrested for your wardrobe.”

“You won’t get arrested.”

“You think they won’t take me in for questioning?”

Amanda realized he was right. “Look, maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Don’t sweat it. I promise if it gets hairy, I’m out.”

Amanda gulped a big sigh. “Be careful.”

“Don’t park here. You go around the block and wait for me.”

“Good thinking.”

Scott managed to slip into Amanda’s apartment unhindered. The news crews were mainly outside and once he was inside, the one set of neighbors being interviewed didn’t know him.

Checking the hall was clear, Scott slipped into her unit.

As promised, he texted Amanda and found her the blouses she wanted. Once he gathered her belongings and was headed back out the makeshift door, he decided to listen to her answering machine on the lowest volume.

You have one new message. First message, sent, yesterday at, 8:37pm.

“Miss Baker, my name is Douglas Bradbury. I’m calling because I need to talk to you about The Wand from Starship Earth. I had it before you. I’m the one who - who left it there in Starship Earth. And if you, well, let’s just say if you are who I hope you are, then you know it’s real. You know what I’m talking about. And I’m afraid I may have accidentally, uh, done something awful with it. Please, if you know what I’m hinting at, I need you to call me back immediately. Many young children could be in terrible danger. Please. I need your help. 323-928-5381. That’s 323-928-5381. Please, call me soon.”

“Oh, no.” Scott dialed Amanda.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

“No. Baby, listen to this. This was left on your answering machine.”

Scott replayed it for her.

“You get that?”

“Oh, my God.” Amanda said, “What was his name? Give me that number again. I’ll call him right back.”

Scott replayed it and wrote it down at the same time.

“Got it?”

“I got it. Get out of there. And erase that message. I don’t need anyone else hearing that. I’m calling that guy back right now.”

“Will do.”

Amanda hung up.

Scott erased the message and peeked around the blanket that was a door. Hallway was empty. He made his escape and headed back for the car.

Mr. Electrico picked up on the second ring. “Hello? Amanda?”

“Yes. Is this Douglas?”

“Thank God. Call me Mr. Electrico.”

Amanda suddenly thought she’d called a crackpot. “Mr. Electrico?”

“Sorry. Stagename. Everyone calls me that.”

“What’s with the message you left me?”

“Did you find out what, well, what The Wand can do?”

“Yes.”

“Then we need to talk. But not over a cellphone. Can you meet me somewhere?”

“I’m not meeting you until you tell me what’s going on.”

Mr. Electrico sighed. Between confrontations with the mafia and the FBI he was sure his calls were being recorded and monitored by now. But he had to take that chance. This was too important. “Fine. I’m a magician. Okay? That’s my occupation. And I accidentally used The Wand to create real magic wands. I didn’t mean to do it. There were boxes of them at The Magic Mansion in Hollywood. I didn’t realize what I had done and the wands were given away to a bunch of gradeschool kids on a fieldtrip, as souvenirs. And now, the school is gone.”

“What?”

“Their school is gone! Their entire school. The kids who showed up on the fieldtrip. Their school just vanished! Along with all the kids and teachers and faculty. Everyone. Haven’t you seen the news?”

“I’ve been a little busy.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened. Do you still have The Wand? I don’t know how, but there has to be some way to reverse this!”

“I don’t have it, but I know who does.”

“Please, you have to put me in touch with them.”

Just to be safe, Amanda asked, “What are the rules?”

“Pardon me? I’m on the subway. I’m losing you.”

“The Th--- -ule-? On --e -and? What are ----?”

“The what? I’m sorry, you’re breaking up.”

“The Three Rules on T-- Wa--?”

“Oh! The Three Rules on The Wand?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Electrico told her.

“You really were the previous owner.” Amanda replied.

“Yes!”

“Okay. Hold on. Let me get you the number of the person who has it now.”

“Please, hurry. I’m on the Red Line near Union. Once we go in the mountain I’ll lose signal.”

Amanda searched for Superbman’s number in her phone and gave it to Mr. Electrico.

“Thank you, Amanda.”

“You’re welcome. Good luck!”

“Thanks. I’ll call him righ - ”

- click -

§

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Scott said to the front windshield.

“What?” Amanda traced his gaze.

Two newsvans were parked in front of his apartment building.

So were three police cars.

“Damnit!” Scott hit his steering wheel.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Scott said as he drove past his building, not even slowing down.

Amanda pulled out her cell.

“Who you calling?”

“Our partner in crime.” Amanda grinned.

Superbman picked up in two rings. “Hey there, Amanda!”

“Superbman! Still fighting for honesty, integrity and the American Dream?”

“Always. Well, no, actually, I just woke up. What’s going on?”

“We need your help.”

“Uh oh. What’d you do this time?”

“Very funny. It’s not us. It’s the media. Police too. They’re tracking us down. They’re at my place. They seem to have found Scott as well. We have nowhere to go.”

“Where are you now?”

“Driving. We were headed to Scott’s place and there are cop cars and news vans all over the place.”

“Same here.”

“What?”

Superbman poured himself some coconut water in his kitchen. “They found me too. They’ve been harassing me. Knocking on my door. Hanging out outside my building. No cops yet, but I imagine it’s only a matter of time.”

“Crap. What are we going to do?”

Superbman looked over at The Wand.

In that moment, he realized just how much a wooden staff can resemble a crystal shard.

“Amanda? You know Mulholland Dam at the Hollywood Reservoir?”

“Yeah, of course I know it. I go jogging up there.”

“I have an idea. Can you meet me there in, say, 30 minutes?”

“Sure.” Amanda nodded, needlessly.

“No, no. Make it an hour. Give me exactly one hour.”

“Alright. 3:45 right now. See you at quarter to 5:00?”

“Quarter to 5:00.”

“Oh, one last thing! Did Mr. Electrico call you?”

“Who?”

“You’ll probably be getting a call from a magician about The Wand. Name’s Mr. Electrico.”

“A magician?”

“Yeah. He just called me from the Red Line under the mountains and his phone cut out. That’s probably why he hasn’t called you yet.”

Amanda told Superbman the whole story about the gradeschool.

“Good God.” Superbman said, biting his lips in consternation.

“I know.”

“Meet me on top of the Mulholland Dam. We’ll sort all of this out.”

“Will do. See you in an hour.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Scott looked at his girlfriend as they came to a redlight. “Well?”

“He’s swarmed by media too. He said he has an idea and we should meet him at Mulholland Dam in an hour.”

“What kind of idea?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say. But he can still use The Wand until tomorrow. Hopefully he can come up with something.”

“If you ask me, the less anyone uses that magic wand, the better.”

“I won’t disagree with you there.”

Chapter Ten

Mulholland Dam was deserted when Amanda and Scott arrived.

Awaiting Suberbman, the two lovers saw only a skittish jackrabbit.

The marvel of engineering held back a 180 foot deep reservoir nestled in the Hollywood Hills. Quiet and serene, surrounded by gently swaying pines and the canyon walls holding in the sound of birds and wind, it was hard to imagine the chaos of the Hollywood freeway and the bustle of tourists was only a thousand feet away. Atop the dam, enjoying the tranquility of the lake, swelling larger than five football stadiums and lazily filling the valley, it felt like you were miles from civilization.

Amanda and Scott held hands and stared over the waters.

Scott peeked over the railing, enjoying the vertigo of the sheer drop to the deep currents below. There was always something undeniably creepy about the stillness of water behind gargantuan concrete dams.

Amanda thought about the dams she used to make as a child in her backyard, out of handfuls of mud and a garden hose. This, in comparison, seemed to be made by gods.

As a pair of trophy wives came past, jogging in their yoga pants and sports bras and talking about the latest neighborhood gossip, a strange looking man followed behind.

Amanda noticed him first.

She nudged Scott.

The man wore jeans with a dress shirt and dress shoes. That was not strange in itself, but this was a jogging path and dress shoes were certainly an uncommon sight. Weirder still, he was holding a tophat.

Appearing even more skittish than the jackrabbit, he called out to Scott and Amanda when he was still a safe distance away.

“P-Pardon me. You wouldn’t happen to be Amanda Baker?”

Scott put his hand on Amanda’s shoulder.

Her facial expression revealed nothing, but inside, that little touch made her smile. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mr. Electrico. The magician. I called about The Wand.”

“Yes, of course. I’m Amanda.”

“Superbman told me to meet him here.”

Amanda glance back at her boyfriend. “That’s weird. Us too. This is my boyfriend, Scott.”

They shook and Mr. Electrico thought he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you” but he was so tense, he didn’t actually speak.

“Hi.” Scott smiled.

“Yes. Superbman told me to look for you.” As if just remembering his hat, Mr. Electrico startled, “Oh! Here! I wanted to bring this.”

Setting the hat on the ground, he crouched next to it.

Sweat glistened on his forehead. The sun was blazing. He squinted up at the couple and said, “I wanted to prove my claims about The Wand were real.”

Waving a hand over the hat, a bunny hopped out.

“Oh!” Amanda jumped back in both fear and delight.

“Whoa!” Scott giggled.

Then another bunny came out.

And another. And another.

All four of them hopped around and explored the path, Amanda’s shoes, and each other. Petting the first one, Mr. Electrico said, “See?”

Amanda reached down to pick one up. Little pink nose wriggled oblivious joy. “Aw! Yes, I can see that. I guess giving The Wand to a magician lets you do all kinds of things!”

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to learn to get these guys back in the hat.” Mr. Electrico smiled.

Scott laughed. “That’s incredible!”

“Okay, boys. Come on!” Mr. Electrico snapped his finger and produced a baby carrot from his pocket. The bunnies all stopped instantly and faced him. He tossed the carrot into the hat and all four rabbits followed. The one in Amanda’s arms jumped away so fast, she nearly got kicked in the face by bunny feet.

“Doh!” Amanda exclaimed, flicking her head away.

Then just as fast as they had appeared, the bunnies had all vanished.

Mr. Electrico picked up the hat and put it atop his head.

“Amazing.” Scott clapped.

“Totally amazing!” Amanda joined him.

Mr. Electrico bowed with a grin, “Thank you. World’s shortest magic show!”

“To the world’s smallest audience.” Scott added.

Amanda twirled and laughed at his comment.

Just then, her eyes flew wide. Gazing over Scott’s shoulder, down the valley into Hollywood, she pointed at the sky. “Oh, look! Up there!”

Turning, Scott asked, “What? Where? Up in the sky?”

“What is that? A bird? A plane?” Mr. Electrico asked.

Scott and Amanda chuckled. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Mr. Electrico walked ahead a few paces to get a closer look.

The couple just grinned.

Superbman was just a speck, but all three of them spotted him. He came flying from the edge of rare Los Angeles clouds and settled gently on the damn beside them.

Amanda and Scott were still amazed to see him fly.

Mr. Electrico, on the other hand, having never seen Superbman before, reacted to the whole event like a 6 year old.

“Oh, my God! Superbman! So you weren’t kidding! I mean, you really did become a real superhero!? You can fly!”

“You must be Mr. Electrico.”

“Yes! Yes! I am!”

They shook hands.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“You too! You too! My gosh, that’s amazing!”

“I have these two to thank. Amanda. Scott.”

“Hey, buddy.” Scott smiled.

“Hi. So why did you want to meet us here?” Amanda wondered.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I was watching,” Superbman pointed skyward, “I wanted to make sure the park had no other visitors when I showed you this.”

“Showed us what?” Amanda asked.

Superbman gave the three of them a devilish grin and jogged a finger toward their right. “You see the building in the center of the dam?”

They nodded. “What about it?”

“Walk fifty feet east of the building and look down into the lake.”

The three shrugged and started to walk.

Muttering to themselves, wondering what the heck he was -

- WHOOSH! -

The three staggered back from the railing as a cylindrical black pod fired up out of the lake in a spray of water, an artificial rainbow flashing across the mist. Within seconds, a mechanical staircase billowed out of the doorway, over the railing of the dam, and planted itself on the road at their feet.

“Whoa!”

“What the hell is that!?”

Superbman calmly walked up the staircase and motioned to them. “Welcome to the Citadel of Isolation. Come in. Watch your step.”

Mr. Electrico stood agape, peering over the railing to see what was holding up the structure. “Citadel of Isolation?”

“Like the comic books.” Amanda grinned.

“Wasn’t it in Antarctica in the comic books?” Scott asked.

“The original Superbman might want to put his secret fortress in a frozen wasteland, but I prefer to keep it someplace warm.” Superbman chuckled at his own joke and rarely sounded like more of a 1950’s sitcom dad. “Come on. Check it out!”

Proceeding up the staircase, the three marveled at the surfaces. The stairs and pod were clearly made of a metal of some sort, but it was polished to such a sheen it looked like black glass. Perhaps even obsidian or volcanic rock.

As they stepped into the chamber, the elevator-style doors shut them into a pod that was completely transparent from the inside. Acting like a one-way-mirror, the exterior surface had been pitch black, but from the inside looking out, it was like being inside of a crystal wineglass.

The staircase folded back into the support column and the pod immediately rocketed back down the face of the dam.

“Whoa!”

“Holy crap!”

The massive height of the concrete wall whisked by as they plummeted into the lake.

“Oh, jeez!”

Superbman laughed, “You kids better get used to this if you’re going to move in here.”

“Move in?” Amanda looked down at the dropping pod.

“Where are you taking us?” Scott asked.

Dropping the nearly 200 feet below the surface of the water, a conduit opened in the lakebed and the strange elevator continued dropping into the earth. The passageway shuttered behind them in multiple layers of gargantuan sealing mechanisms as the water drained out of the conduit through unseen vents.

When they finally had plunged through thousands of metric tons of rock and earth, the dark shaft opened into a glorious chamber of light.

“Oh, wow!”

Shoulders relaxed as though their spines were jelly.

The three visitors were overcome with awe.

Before them spread an antechamber nearly the size of the reservoir above. Astoundingly, there was no roof of rock or stone overhead. Instead, it was a massive garden opened up to the pure blue sky. Light reflected and refracted through giant crystals and mirrored surfaces.

How was this possible? They had just traveled hundreds of feet below a lake that was as deep at a twenty story building.

Yet there it was - the gardens were riddled with ponds and flowers and streams and grottoes and waterfalls. Underground streams provided pure sparking water filtered through tons of carbon and charcoal and also served as conduits for ventilation.

The elevator pod was still descending through the scene as the garden floor must have been a 1000 feet below them.

Overhead, the sky appeared dotted with a weird spray of shrubbery levitating in the air.

Mr. Electrico looked again.

People!?

Were those people walking in the sky?

The elevator came to rest at the garden floor.

“Welcome home.” Superbman announced as he stepped out and bade the others to follow.

Mr. Electrico couldn’t take his eyes off the sky. “Are those people!?”

Superbman watched Mr. Electrico’s finger.

Looking back at his guests, Superbman said, “Ah. Yes. They are. Hikers on top of Mount Lee.”

“Hikers? Flying in the sky!?”

Superbman chuckled, “Oh, no, no. That’s not the sky. We’re deep inside the mountain. You’re seeing the bottom of the mountain surface.”

“What?”

Amanda stared at the sky which she now understood was the roof. “Molecular transluminesence.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Amanda explained it to Mr. Electrico. “In the Superbman comics, his Citadel of Isolation was deep under the ice in Antarctica. He used a crystal from his homeworld to create it. Inside the caves, the cavern was given something called Molecular Transluminesence - it’s described as a photonic transformation of matter.”

Mr. Electrico repeated the phrase, not having any idea what she was talking about. “A photonic transformation of matter?”

“Yeah. See, by rearranging the molecular structure of objects you, in essence, create conduits for light to penetrate the material it’s comprised of, down a single molecular chain. In other words, this slight rearranging of the molecular structure causes objects to look physically identical - ”

“ - Possess all the same physical properties.” Scott interjected.

“Exactly, but the material can become virtually invisible when viewed from the proper angle. You can literally turn an entire mountain transparent, from the inside out.”

Being the one who introduced Amanda to Superbman comics, Scott knew all of this too and added, “Exactly. And like I said, the properties stay the same. So, the molecular density doesn’t change with Molecular Transluminesence. Nine thousands tons of stone is still nine thousand tons of stone. Those nine thousand tons of stone just become as translucent as glass.”

Superbman finished explaining, “Which is exactly what I did here. From the outside, the Santa Monica mountains in Griffith Park look completely unchanged. From in here however, as you can see, despite living 500 feet beneath the lake and up to 1000 feet inside the mountain, we are blessed with a crystal cathedral of beautiful California sunshine over our heads instead of living like troglodytes.”

“And the bushes?” Mr. Electrico asked.

“Oh, well, it doesn’t work on organic matter. So, plants and any animals like bobcats or rabbits or obviously people who walk over these areas, are all visible. It just looks like you have flying bobcats and baby carriages now and then.”

“So to the people on the outside - ” Mr. Electrico asked.

“ - They still see a normal mountaintop and rock. The Molecular Transluminesence acts like one-way glass. We can see out of the mountain. No one can see in.” Superbman explained.

“Amazing. Absolutely amazing.” Scott said, still staring at the dizzying sky.

“Wait. There’s more to show you! Much more!”

Superbman proceeded to take his guests through the gardens to an enclave in the back of the cavern. There were private living quarters. A control room of monitoring equipment for police, fire and rescue teams. A swimming lake. A gymnasium. Even a cantina and kitchen area.

“Hold on,” Superbman smiled. “One last thing.”

Taking them into a chamber as big as an indoor stadium, giant doors slid open to reveal all of the fantastical vehicles Amanda had created with The Wand and left back at the warehouse.

Pointing overhead, Superbman explained, “A launch tube opens in the center of the Hollywood Reservoir to launch and to land. Buried under rock formations in the lakebed. They could send down divers and radar and never find it.”

“How did you find our vehicles?” Scott asked.

Superbman tapped an index finger to the corner of his eye. “X-Ray vision. Superbman, remember?”

Amnda wondered, “How did you do all of this!?”

“The Wand, of course.” Superbman motioned to it in the corner. “When you mentioned needing a place to stay, it made me think of this.”

“Hold on. That was an hour ago! You created this entire thing - ”

“ - Yeah. One hour!” Superbman laughed. “I tried to think of a good place to make it. At first I was thinking the desert somewhere. Then I realized, no, better to keep in close to the city, if I’m going to use my powers to defend it. What better place to put it so the general public can never get in, yet it’s still within the center of the city, than to drop it beneath a 200 foot lake?”

“How did The Wand do all of this!?” Scott, being the only one of the three who had not inherited The Wand, seemed the most stunned.

“I just thought of the comics. I came to the lake and threw The Wand into the water like Excalibur and viola!”

“You know this looks nothing like the Citadel of Isolation in the Superbman comics though.”

“Looks more like Die Hüterin Liga Headquarters.” Amanda noted.

“What’s the dee... whatever you said?” Mr. Electrico wondered.

“Die Hüterin Liga. German. From the comics. It means ‘The Guardian League’.” Amanda explained.

“Which is exactly what I was thinking,” Superbman noted. “But we can talk about that later.” Turning to Mr. Electrico he added, “I believe you need our help.”

§

Mr. Electrico insisted they drive to Treasure Trail Elementary School and that Superbman ditch the costume and dress as mild-mannered Dan Christopherson again. No need to draw undo attention.

Arriving at the site in Cahuenga Pass was a shock.

Just off of Woodrow Wilson Drive, at the edge of a field, was a sign for the school; but no school.

There was one news van and two or three families - it was hard to tell how many groups of people were related - placing flowers and wreaths at the perimeter of the field like the scene of a car accident.

Dan thought it was odd there wasn’t a big crowd of grieving families. Then again, why are you going to stand there mourning in an empty field all day? He noted there was no reason for sightseers, because there was nothing to see.

“See?” Mr. Electrico motioned to the field.

Exiting the car with Scott and Amanda, the four of them walked to the field. Stopping by the edge, it felt almost disrespectful to step on the grass where the school had been. Holy ground.

Dan noted, “Why is there grass?”

“What?” Mr. Electrico asked.

“Grass.” Dan flicked a finger at the ground. “Isn’t it weird that, I mean, shouldn’t there be a leftover basement or a foundation or a hole or something? Why is it grass?”

Amanda, Scott and Mr. Electrico puzzled the question and had no answer. Finally, Mr. Electrico conceded, “Yeah, that is weird.”

“Should have brought a ship.” Amanda said, kicking at a tuft of grass.

Mr. Electrico glanced a hush-hush look across his shoulder at the news crew. “Shhh. We don’t need to be getting interviewed about anything. Just keep it casual.”

In that moment, although no one said so, all three of them - Dan, Amanda and Scott thought the same thing - we wish we had met you sooner. Mr. Electrico seemed a lot smarter about keeping things quiet.

Amanda whispered as she explained, “I’m just saying, I could scan things. See if we note anything weird. Superbm - er, I mean, Dan, can you see anything?”

Dan stared at the spot with his superbvision and odd auras and colors sparkled in the air, “Ah, I can’t make out much of anything. There’s a weird, um, I dunno how to explain it. Almost like a ghost image? But not really. I only see faint sparks of an outline. Almost like fireflies outlining, I don’t know, like two-percent of a building.”

“What do you suppose that means?” Scott asked.

“I have no idea.”

Amanda sighed, “I don’t know what else we can do.”

“How much longer do you have The Wand?” Mr. Electrico asked Dan.

“Tomorrow is the final day.”

“Then we should come back tonight. See if we can break the spell.”

“Break the spell?”

“Maybe the school is still there. Maybe that’s why you can see remnants of the building.”

None of them thought that would work.

But poor Mr. Electrico looked so upset, so distraught with guilt for his inadvertent responsibility in this tragedy, that no one said “no” to him. Amanda especially felt compassion towards him, since she too had to live with the guilt of lives lost over an innocent mistake with The Wand.

“Good idea.” Dan put a hand on Mr. Electrico’s shoulder, “We’ll try.”

§

Later that night, they all returned.

They tried.

Nothing happened.

Amanda ran scans. Scott checked from the air to see if the school simply teleported somewhere else. Superbman even looked to see if it was buried and he tried to use The Wand.

Nothing.

Mr. Electrico finally conceded to call it off.

He went home dejected. Defeated.

Scott and Amanda offered words of compassion and encouragement that were appreciated, but useless.

Mr. Electrico went to bed sick with guilt.

§

Dan awoke early the next day, alone in the Citadel of Isolation.

Scott and Amanda headed back to their jobs, figuring news crews wouldn’t follow them to work, while Dan sat staring at The Wand, wondering what to do with it on his last day.

Dan suddenly sat up with a start.

What if his powers vanish!?

A split second later, he relaxed, realizing that the things Mr. Electrico and Amanda created with The Wand still existed, so he’d have nothing to worry about.

Nevertheless, just to play it safe, he decided it might be smart to not be flying or picking up locomotives after midnight. Just in case.

He knew he wanted to do more as a superhero. He wasn’t sure exactly how to do that. The best solution seemed to be what everyone does in the movies - listen to police radio broadcasts and try to intervene when needed. Finding criminal activity in the movies is easy. In the real world, you don’t exactly have a lot of alley muggings and cat burglars.

The thought of the vanished school haunted him too.

No one had any idea how or why it disappeared. Mr. Electrico didn’t even realize he was responsible at first, until the news reported the Junior High students had just returned from a field trip to the Magic Mansion and Mr. Electrico noticed the wands he had enchanted were all missing.

Superbman wanted to help. Bring the school back. But how?

Worst of all, what if the school was disintegrated?

In the meantime, it seemed a shame to waste his final day with The Wand and do nothing with it.

What else could he do?

After a long day of thinking it over, Superbman finally knew exactly what must be done.

Resolute, he sat up and said to the empty cathedrallic halls, “Yes. That’s it!”

§

“How much longer do you think we’ll need to stay here?” Scott asked Amanda as they sat down to dinner in the Citadel.

“How long until the media and police stop looking for us?” Amanda said, taking a sip of tea. “I was so freaked out at the Studio today that they were going to show up on the Lot.”

“Me too. They probably will. Tomorrow. The day after? We’re risking a lot by going to work.”

Amanda didn’t want to believe that. “But we’re freelance. How can they trace us?”

“Are you kidding? Bank records. Tax forms. There are plenty of paper trails. You’re working at the biggest studio in Hollywood. You really think they won’t find you?”

“Well,” Superbman interjected, “I was thinking maybe it’s time for a career change. For both of you.”

“Huh?” Scott mumbled.

“You both did pretty amazing fighting against the demons.”

“So?” Amanda scoffed. Realizing how bitchy she sounded, she said, “I mean, thanks, but... so?”

“So, why don’t the two of you join me? We can become Die Hüterin Liga for real!”

Scott stopped in the middle of chewing and talked with his mouth full. “Youh goffa be knidding.”

“No, I’m serious.”

Amanda laughed, “You want us to become superheroes? Like you?”

“Sure!” Superbman had clearly been thinking of this all day and was thrilled to finally be talking about it. “You have a hangar full of incredible equipment. We have a fortress as a base of operations.”

“We also have a need to eat!” Scott interrupted. “How do you propose we make money to keep food on the table if we quit our jobs and we’re running around as superheroes?”

Superbman nodded as he ate a french fry. “Fair question. Fair question. And, I thought about that. You see, before I made my living as a costumed superhero on Hollywood Boulevard, I was a CPA.”

“What’s that?” Scott asked.

Amanda stared at him like she was dating the biggest dork in the world, “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“How do you not know what a CPA is?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Smartypants.”

“God, you’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Kids!” Superbman put up his hands to block their bickering.

“Certified - ” Amanda explained.

“ - Public Accountant. I knew. I was just screwing with you.” Scott laughed.

“You!” Amanda reached in her glass and chucked ice at Scott’s face.

Just missed him, but droplets of water nailed him in the nose.

“Hey!” Superbman yelled, “I feel like I’m babysitting a couple in middleschool.”

The sweethearts stuck their tongues out at each other. As he wiped the water drops away, Scott mouthed, “I’m gonna get you for that!”

“As I was saying, I was a CPA and I was thinking, if we set up Die Hüterin Liga as a legitimate non-profit organization, we could get donations from the public and that money could pay for things like food. Of course, the downside means, we’d have to be a public entity. We wouldn’t be secretive.”

“So within about two weeks of crimefighting, every single gang member and bad guy in the entire city of Los Angeles is going to know who Amanda and I are? No thanks! You can get away with that. You’re invincible. Amanda and I are still just ordinary people. We might be tough when we’re running around in mechwarriors and battlecopters, but what happens when we go out for dinner and some thugs spot us in a restaurant? We’re dead.”

Amanda was nodding, “Yeah. Yeah, totally. I agree with Scott. You can do that. We try becoming vigilantes and we’re going to get killed.”

“We can’t just abandon our lives. We have friends. Family.”

Truth be told, they loved the idea.

Who wouldn’t welcome the chance to become a superhero? To do some genuine good in the world? To put an end to tyranny, not only in your city, but across the planet? To make a difference.

But they were also genuinely worried about all the things they said.

“I understand.” Dan resigned. “Those are all legitimate concerns. But my offer stands. Think about it. And if you ever change your minds, you’re always welcome to come back.”

“Fair enough. Thank you, Superbman.” Scott replied.

“Thank you both! You made my fondest dreams come true.”

Amanda perked up, “Speaking of that! Today is your last day with The Wand. What did you do with it? What are you doing with it? Anything special planned?”

Superbman wiped his mouth and hissed, “Oooh. Well, no. I’m afraid not. The Wand doesn’t exist anymore.”

In stereo: “Doesn’t exist!?”

“What did you do with it?” Amanda wondered.

“Destroyed it.”

“You did what!?”

“After all the trouble it caused for you, and for Mr. Electrico, and that poor gradeschool, I realized The Wand was far too dangerous. Even good people can use it with disastrous results. Best to make sure it never falls into the wrong hands. So, I crushed it into toothpicks and scattered it on the moon.”

“The moon!? You shredded a magical wand into splinters and left it on... the moon!?”

“I knew no one else could piece it back together up there.”

§

Scott and Amanda awoke to Superbman screaming.

Needless to say, the lovers were terrified.

What could possibly make him scream? Mr. Invincible. Mr. Feels No Pain. Mr. Knows No Fear. Why was he screaming?

Scott braved a peek out their bedroom door to see Superbman angrily marching down the hall, carrying The Wand in one hand and rubbing sleep out of his eyes with the other.

“Superbman? You okay? I thought you destroyed The Wand.”

“I did! I did. That. Stupid. Goddarn. Frubin-damnlousypeiceowood-scaringthecrapfloatingoverbed dumbthing...” Superbman continued to mutter as he walked into the main antechambers of the Citadel.

Scott and Amanda followed.

“Are you okay?” Amanda asked, arms folded in her robe, “We heard you screaming.”

“Well! Stupid Wand scared the jeepers out of me! Floating over my bed and glowing like a HMI!”

Scott and Amanda giggled, thinking the same thing, Only we movie crew geeks would ever make a HMI reference.

“So I guess leaving it on the moon isn’t an option.” Scott observed.

“The Devil’s Wand won’t stand for being left in the heavens.”

Superbman sat up. “That’s it!”

Amanda and Scott looked at Superbman as if he were speaking Swahili.

“That’s it! Amanda, you’re brilliant!”

“I am?”

“Go back to sleep you two. I’ve got this.”

“Where are you - ?”

Superbman, holding The Wand, flew up, up and away before Amanda could finish her sentence. As he soared into the sky over the Hollywood Reservoir, little did he know that Amanda and Scott never made it back to sleep. They were glued to the morning newscast with reports of demons in the sewers and a dozen or more aliens spawning from eggs atop a honeycomb nest at the top of a skyscraper downtown.

“Oh, God.” Amanda’s hand covered her mouth and her lips, always a beautiful cherry red, even without lipstick, drained to the powder white of a corpse.

“What!? Baby what is it?”

“My sketchbook!”

“Your sketchbook?”

Amanda was almost in tears, her arm trembled in front of her face. “Baby, it wasn’t just my sculptures and maquettes. My sketchbook. Some of those creatures on the news! They were only in my sketchbook!”

Scott, horrified, finally began to understand. “Oh, God. Amanda? Your sketchbook was over five-hundred pages.”

“Eight hundred thirty six. Last time I counted. That was 2 years ago.”

Amanda collapsed in the kitchen chair, slumped over, her head in her palm.

Scott tried to lighten the mood. “Well, I guess this looks like a job for Die Hüterin Liga.”

Amanda looked up and managed a laugh.

Then, looking at her boyfriend, Amanda said something he never would have expected her to say in that moment. In fact, if he could relive that moment 200 more times, imagining every scenario that might transpire, he still would never dream what she said next.

“Marry me.” Amanda smiled.

“I - what?”

“Marry me.” Amanda said, more firmly this time.

Scott noticed it wasn’t a question. “Marry you?”

“Yes, Scott. Marry me.” She stood up and took hold of his hands. “Baby, I love you. You’re the biggest pain in the ass I know and if anyone is going to get bored with me, and grow to resent me, and neglect me, and be stuck with me forever, I want it to be a jerk like you. I’m not going out there again, fighting some weird monsters, worried that I might lose you for the rest of my life. So marry me, you idiot. Marry me so no matter what happens, I will always have a husband to come home to, or be a widow.”

“Whoa. Wait. What? Excuse me, but why are you presuming you’d be the widow? What if you’re the one who doesn’t come home? Why are we presuming I’m the one who gets killed by monsters?” Laughing, he kissed her.

Amanda kissed him back, “Are you going to make me tell you again before you say yes?”

“Amanda, my love, I’ve never wanted to marry anyone but you since the first second I saw you.”

“Let’s get to the courthouse. We’ve got some demons to smite.”

“Wait. Now? Right now, you wanna get married?”

“I didn’t mean next week, knucklehead.”

“Should I put on one of your skirts? You gonna wear my jeans?”

“Very funny, Mrs. Baker.” Amanda slapped his ass as they went back to the bedroom to get dressed.

Chapter Eleven

Sister Stacey O’Keegan, a redheaded young lady at the cloistered Convent of the Immaculate Heart, thought she was seeing things when she stepped into the gardens for her morning walk and spotted a blur of color flying off behind the trees.

Making her way around the grounds, she noticed The Wand propped up against the pure white of a birch tree that matched the hue of the retaining wall.

Within a cloistered convent, things remained immutable. Much of the serenity and peace found in quiet prayer stemmed from the comfort of familiarity.

Thus, the appearance of The Wand was a strange thing.

Sister O’Keegan picked it up, thinking perhaps it was a misplaced rake from the gardeners shed. Once she saw it up close, it was obviously no such thing.

Turning it in her hand, she spotted the placard and read The Rules.

“Mrmph,” she tittered. “That’s strange.”

“Good morning, Sister O’Keegan.”

“Good morning, Sister Mary Ann.”

“What have you got there?” Sister Mary Ann asked. She was a much older woman, having been at the convent for close to 30 years. Sister O’Keegan had only been cloistered for a tenth of that time.

“I’m, well, I’m not entirely sure, Sister.” Sister O’Keegan replied.

“Looks like a walking staff. I reckon I could use one of those more than you.” Sister Mary Ann joked.

“Oh! Well, it’s not mine. That is to say, I just found it.”

Sister Mary Ann winked, “Then I guess that makes it yours.”

“But where did it come from? Things don’t just appear in the enclosure out of thin air. Someone had to leave it.”

“Well, perhaps one of the Sisters or gardeners left it. Come, dear. Bring it with you and we’ll ask the other Sisters at breakfast. It obviously didn’t fly over the wall by itself.”

Sister O’Keegan grinned and dared a peek back up at the sky where she had seen the blur of color. “No. No, of course it didn’t. Not... by itself.”

“What was that dear?”

“I said you’re quite right, Sister. Come. Let’s have breakfast.”

Sister O’Keegan offered Sister Mary Ann her arm and they walked back through the gardens to the kitchen.

Once back inside the convent, the questions began.

What was that?

Where did she get it?

In the gardens?

What was it doing in the gardens?

One of the nuns jokingly started calling Sister O’Keegan by the name “Sister Moses” and the name stuck. The whole rest of the morning it was “Sister Moses” this and “Sister Moses” that.

“Are you going to carry that thing around all morning?” Sister Josephine asked.

Absently, Sister O’Keegan eyed The Wand, not even realizing she was still holding it. “Oh. No. Of course not.” She began to set it in the corner of the kitchen.

As it came to rest against the wall, she joked, “Not unless I use it to multiply the loaves or change water to wine.”

Green leaves of light exploded a roomfull of ferns from the top of The Wand. Sizzling on the kitchen sink, the verdigris glow faded over the faucet, turning the waters into a rich red wine. Upon the table, a geyser of breakfast croissants poured out of their plate.

Screaming, poor Sister Josephine mistakenly thought the wine was human blood and she presumed the devil himself had suddenly possessed the convent. She slammed her hand down on the faucet so hard, she nearly snapped the handle.

When the flutter of croissants stopped piling onto the floor and the wine ceased to flow, the good sisters finally calmed themselves.

Mother Superior helped Sister O’Keegan back to her her feet, “Oh, my! Are you okay, my child?”

“I think so.” Sister O’Keegan grinned a smile that quivered.

“What happened!?”

“I don’t know! I touched the staff and this light came out of it. You saw it!” Sister O’Keegan looked at Sister Josephine.

Sister Josephine nodded, her eyes saucers of fear.

Other nuns chimed in.

“Yes, I saw it too.”

“I saw it.”

“Look what happened to the croissants!”

“How can that be?”

Sister Josephine screamed and dropped a pan in the sink when she saw Superbman floating outside the kitchen window.

Gasping, his voice was muffled behind the glass. “Oh! I’m sorry! I’m terribly sorry, Sister. I didn’t meant to frighten you. I’ve come to see Sister O’Keegan.”

Settling to the ground, the fact Superbman was flying went unnoticed. His presence itself frightened them so much, his levitating was overlooked.

Sister Josephine was still screaming and didn’t hear anything Superbman said. The only words she heard him say were, “crazy man” “rapist” “killing nuns” and quite possibly “eating babies” as she ran into the convent.

Superbman walked around the gardens and kept his distance from the door. He didn’t want to startle the nuns anymore, so he figured he’d stand far enough away from the entrance that they wouldn’t feel threatened.

“Hello!? Sisters? I, uh, I was hoping to talk with Sister O’Keegan!”

Sister O’Keegan came from the kitchen along with a few of the other nuns. She was holding The Wand as protection.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Sister O’Keegan questioned.

“Sister, don’t talk to him!” The Mother Superior chided the young nun. “Just who do you think you are?” The Mother Superior yelled across the garden. “Barging in here like this? How did you get in here? You’re trespassing! Sister Agnes, call the police right now. Don’t you dare come any closer! You just march right back out the way you came in here!”

“Mother Superior, I apologize.” Superbman called from the trees and walked closer. “I’m Superbman. I’m terribly sorry to startle you ladies. I meant no disrespect. But I must speak with Sister O’Keegan. You see, I’m the one who left her The Wand. The Moses staff.”

Sister O’Keegan stepped out of the doorway. Still apprehensive, she looked over the edge of the wooden weapon and said, “You? You’re the one who left this in the garden?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know my name?”

Superbman flew just above the trees.

The nuns screamed and cowered back in the doorway. Sister O’Keegan stumbled backwards, almost tripping. They were crossing themselves and rubbing rosaries.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Superbman held up his hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I was just showing you that, well, I was way up in the sky and I was sort of eavesdropping.” He pointed over his head and glanced up. “I apologize. I know that’s not the best manners, but please understand, I needed to do this. I heard your whole conversation. I heard you in the kitchen. I heard the Sister Moses jokes. I heard all of your names. So, that’s how I know.”

“You can fly!?” Sister O’Keegan shouted.

“Yes, Sister. And I need your help.”

“What do you want? Why did you leave this with me?” Sister O’Keegan said, holding The Wand toward him.

“May we sit? And talk?” Superbman gently floated back down into the garden and stepped closer to the nuns. Motioning to a nearby bench, he smiled. “I’m very sorry to have scared all of you and to barge into your gardens uninvited. But please, give me a moment to explain what is happening and you’ll understand.”

The Cloistered Sisters of the Immaculate Heart timidly emerged from the convent and sat with the superhero in the early morning sunshine. The Sisters listened to Superbman tell his whole story. He told them everything about Amanda and Scott and how Amanda came across The Wand. He told them about the aliens and the demons. About the young lovers giving him The Wand and his time spent as a superhero on Hollywood Boulevard. He told them about his futile attempt to destroy The Wand and how it came back to him. He told them about Mr. Electrico and the gradeschool.

The nuns listened carefully and asked questions when they didn’t understand. Finally, when he reached the end of his story, Superbman said, “We still want to help the children, and the teachers, and bring back that school. But we have no idea how. We don’t even know what happened to it! So, since it was finally my turn to pass The Wand along, I realized, maybe the answer wasn’t to give it to a superhero or a magician. Maybe I needed to bring it to a holy person. A priest. A nun. A shaman. Someone. Anyone who might be able to use The Wand to work miracles. So, I brought it here, to you good Sisters, and I left it against the tree inside your gardens. Since I had to leave it to a stranger, I decided to go away, and listen in on your conversations, until the person who found The Wand actually used it. Sister O’Keegan, once you used it to accidentally turn water into wine, I decided it was time to show myself. Which leads to us sitting on this bench.”

The Sisters were speechless.

“That’s an incredible story, Superbman.” The Mother Superior adjusted her habit, apparently thinking the story was outlandish enough to make the cloth slide back on her head.

Finally, Sister O’Keegan said, “But, Superbman, I’m cloistered. Do you understand what that means? You want me to go to the site of this gradeschool? I have taken a vow not to leave these walls. Ever. Without permission of the bishop, I may not venture outside.”

“I realize that, Sister. And I apologize for dragging you into this. But, I hope you can understand why I did what I have done. I’m only trying to help the kids at that school. I know you didn’t ask for this fate. But a woman of your conviction surely knows that God put you in this situation for a reason. Surely, to try and help save the lives of hundreds of innocent children, you can make an exception.”

Sister O’Keegan’s stomach knotted tighter than mooring lines. “No, Superbman. I can not. These are sacred vows.”

Mother Superior placed her hand on Sister O’Keegan’s shoulder, “My child, there is no edict from God that you must remain within these walls. The edict comes from the church. To remain or to leave, that is your choice. I will not tell you what you should do. But, surely God would deem it a greater sin to ignore the plight of endangered children, than to break your vow and venture out to make an effort to save them.”

The other sisters murmured among themselves, agreeing with the Mother Superior. Leaving the cloister under any circumstances was forbidden. But, this was certainly a miracle in the making. The Wand did indeed appear to be working through the will of God.

Mother Superior called the bishop.

When he visited the Convent and met Superbman and was told the story, the bishop immediately permitted it.

With the blessing of the bishop, Sister O’Keegan agreed to go.

Superbman told Mr. Electrico to meet them at the school.

§

Father Kitner agreed to drive Sister O’Keegan to the school. She was nervous about braving the streets of Hollywood behind the wheel, since she hadn’t driven in over 3 years.

Die Hüterin Liga and Mr. Electrico were all awaiting Sister O’Keegan when she arrived. Twilight would be upon them soon and families would likely return for nightly vigils. But until then, the field where stood the former school, was empty.

Mr. Electrico, still feeling responsible, approached the Sister.

“Sister O’Keegan? Hello. My name is Mr. Electrico.”

“Ah. The magician.” Sister O’Keegan held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“No, ma’am. The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for doing this.”

Despite being so young, Sister O’Keegan was well versed in human compassion. Squeezing his hand, she reassured Mr. Electrico, “I’ll do whatever I can. And if it doesn’t work, we still won’t give up.”

Mr. Electrico didn’t expect such a kind response. Not even from a nun. He turned a little misty-eyed and nodded his thanks over pursed lips.

“You must be Amanda and Scott?”

“Yes, Sister.”

“Good to meet you, Sister.”

Everyone, including Father Kitner, were introduced and Sister O’Keegan walked into the field. Superbman told her where his superbvision could see the strange outline of the school, so presuming it did rematerialize, the good Sister wouldn’t find herself embedded inside of a wall or anything.

Sister O’Keegan was understandably intimidated.

Use the power of God to bring back a school that was magically vaporized? Was the very implication of this act blasphemous?

Not only was she intimidated by what she was about to attempt, but the simple fact that this was only her first day with The Wand and she had three veteran owners watching her, made her all the more nervous. She had no idea how to work this thing. What happened in the kitchen was an accident.

Amanda, seeing her fears, smiled and said, “Just ask for the school back. You don’t need magic words or anything.”

Seeing a girl, near her age, give her some encouragement, helped relax her. Sister O’Keegan held The Wand in a very Moses-esque pose and spoke, “God, please return the school and the people...”

She choked.

Her sentence abruptly stopped. She was already uncertain of what else to say. She should have practiced in the car. She felt like an idiot.

Green light spilled out of The Wand gently. The glow of cascading dry ice vapors. As the leaves of light hit the grass, they began to follow the outline of the school.

Mr. Electrico held his fist to his mouth.

Amanda interlaced her fingers, then tightly held hands with Scott.

Massive shards of crystal and white fog suddenly exploded from the ground all around them. Random explosions of a dozen sizes burst in fountains of chrome. Some small as a breadbox. Some large as a locomotive. Each one engulfed in plumes of mist, rising into the sky.

Confused, no one knew how to react.

Die Hüterin Liga looked at Father Kitner for guidance.

The priest crinkled his nose, as baffled as they were.

Frustrated, Sister O’Keegan raised The Wand and tried again.

And again.

Each time she cast the staff towards the earth, she conjured the same reaction. Over and over.

“Smoke and mirrors.” Sister O’Keegan proclaimed.

Screaming, the young nun hurled The Wand at a pillar of crystal, completely shattering the chrome into needles.

She pounded her fists at the ground. Everyone stared at her, still not certain of what the hell just happened. Amanda rushed over to Sister O’Keegan, “Sister? You okay?”

“Smoke and mirrors!” Sister O’Keegan repeated, nearly weeping the words.

Amanda’s forehead was crinkled. “I - I don’t see, um, what was that?”

Sister O’Keegan knew exactly what happened.

The Wand clearly had a very mischievous, perhaps even malevolent, sense of humor.

Getting back to her feet, Sister O’Keegan walked across the field, kicking at crystals as she went. Smoky white billowing out of the mirrors as they cracked.

“I get it.” Scott walked to The Wand and picked it up.

The others stared, waiting for an explanation.

“Don’t you see? The occupation of the clergy can only conjure smoke and mirrors. The Wand can’t create miracles. Smoke and mirrors are all religions are.”

Father Kitner spoke up. “No! That’s not true. What about the loaves and turning water to wine? Sister O’Keegan did those things. Those were all biblical miracles of Jesus.”

Sister O’Keegan clarified what Scott was saying. “Yes. I can do small miracles from the bible. But anything beyond that, is just creating smoke and mirrors.”

Mr. Electrico was heartbroken, “What are we going to do now?”

“I’m sure we’ll find something.” Superbman tried in vain to reassure Mr. Electrico.

“You need another magician, Mr. Electrico,” said Sister O’Keegan. “This isn’t something we can just wish away with the will of God. The school was lost by magic. I bet it needs to be restored by magic. Simple as that.”

“Maybe she’s right.” Amanda noted.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group before Superbman approached the Sister, “I’m terribly sorry, Sister. I really thought this would work.”

“And I really hoped you were right.” Sister O’Keegan sniffled.

“I burdened you with a responsibility that was not yours to bear. I’m sorry.” Superbman apologized again.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. You were only trying to do the right thing. I’m sorry it didn’t work.” Sister O’Keegan almost added I’m sorry I failed you, but she kept those words to herself, because she knew she’d start crying if she said them.

“Thank you, Sister.” Amanda said, kissing her cheek.

“Thank you for trying.” Scott handed The Wand back to her.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Mr. Electrico told her.

Sister O’Keegan knew they were just being polite. Bringing the school back would make her worthy of praise. They weren’t grateful at all. They were merely trying to be compassionate to the pain she wasn’t hiding very well.

§

Naturally, every member of the Order was eagerly awaiting word from Sister O’Keegan when she returned to the convent. Dejected, Sister O’Keegan went back to her room with barely a word to anyone. Father Kitner, on the other side of the cloistered grate, explained to the good Sisters what had happened. He left out the details of smoke and mirrors for such blasphemy seemed disrespectful to suggest in a convent.

Mother Superior advised all the nuns to leave Sister O’Keegan alone for the evening, since she was clearly upset and not very talkative.

In her room, Sister O’Keegan began to pull out some boxes hidden away in her closet. Old journals. Keepsakes. A yearbook. A scant few scraps of her life before joining the church.

The only time she smiled was when she happened across her old comic books. She had forgotten she even had those with her. There were just a few of them, perhaps half a dozen, smushed in the bottom of a box. There were some Spiderman comics and XMen and Madame Fabulous and a few from Batman and Groo the Wanderer.

Sister O’Keegan didn’t look at her old life for very long, but she stayed up thinking about it, and tossed and turned for hours, before she finally fell asleep.

§

Sister O’Keegan didn’t say much the next morning. Quiet and withdrawn, she was uncharacteristically depressed. Here she was, on her second day with The Wand, and she could think of nothing to do with it. Nothing beyond that school.

The morning news broadcast did nothing to brighten her day.

§

“... The group calling themselves Die Hüterin Liga or The Guardian League continued fighting the onslaught of strange animals at the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica last evening, saving multiple tourists and local residents. No one knows exactly what these animals are or where they came from.”

“Based upon their size and form, they are clearly some type of undiscovered simian species,” said a representative from the Los Angeles Zoo, “but I’ve never seen or heard of anything like them on record.”

One of the witnesses from Third Street Promenade had a much different opinion. “Simians!? Them’s monkeys, right? These wasn’t no gorillas, let me tell you. These was demons! Plain and simple, baby. Straight up from the devil’s own hellfire demons! Gorillas my black ass!”

Shop owner Jack Thomas had this to say, “They destroyed most of my store! I saw these things up close. I got pictures of it on my phone. Look at this. Look at it! It had horns the size of cornucopias! Ever seen a gorilla with horns!? These were demons, I tell you. Look! Look at it! I have pictures of it right there! This one was killed by AmazingGirl right in front of my store. If it wasn’t for The Guardian League, I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now.”

After broadcasting images of Amanda Baker above the caption “AmazingGirl”, the news reporter went on to explain that not everyone saw The Guardian League as heroes. The Los Angeles District Attorney was particularly critical. “As far as the authorities are concerned, the members of this so-called Guardian League are considered armed and dangerous vigilantes. When they are found, they will be brought up on charges for vandalism, weapons possession, destruction of property, airspace violations, and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

The good Sisters of The Immaculate Heart groaned in disbelief. Even they knew that Superbman was a good guy.

The district attorney continued, “When there is a safety or security problem in the city of Los Angeles, it needs to be handled by the men and women of the Los Angeles Police Department. Not by private citizens behaving like terrorists and taking things into their own hands. Officials have determined these attacks are simians of some type, most likely a species of gorillas which were being kept as pets in Malibu or Beverly Hills that somehow escaped. We’re launching a full investigation - ”

§

Sister O’Keegan left the room and went out to the gardens.

Walking among the trees and gentle pathways made her feel a little better, but not much.

The Abbess saw Sister O’Keegan walk past the window and noticed she was late for her kitchen chores. Sister O’Keegan was never late in all the years she had been at the convent.

Looking at Sister Judith, the reverend lady saw everything in her compassionate eyes. Yes, she needs a talking to.

Sister O’Keegan had no idea she had been outside for such a long time. Lost in thought, the hour ticked by as though it were only minutes. After a long while by herself, the Abbess came out to join her.

“Hello, my child.”

Sister O’Keegan, so deep in thought, jumped and nearly toppled over the tiny railed bridge spanning above their fishpond, “Oh!”

“Oh!” Mother Superior shouted back, “I’m terribly sorry!”

They were both giggling as Sister O’Keegan put her hand over her chest, though she wasn’t giggling quite as carefree. “Oh, you startled me.”

“Forgive me, Sister. I just wanted to see if you could do with some company.”

“No, thank you, Mother Superior. I have to get to my chores and - Oh, my! The kitchen! What time is it?” Suddenly remembering her duties, Sister O’Keegan started to run off.

Mother Superior called her back to the bridge. “No, no, my child. They have all been taken care of. Come, sit with me.”

“Oh, Mother Superior, I’m so sorry. You know I’d never be deliberately lax in my duties.”

A tender and wrinkled hand pushed the thought aside, “I know. I know, my dear. You never are. Which is just what I wanted to talk with you about.”

“What do you mean?” Sister O’Keegan asked, joining her on the sunkissed bench.

Mother Superior studied the redheaded young nun and just when Sister O’Keegan thought Mother Superior wasn’t going to speak, she inquired, “My child, what is on your mind? Why have you been out here all morning?”

There was a look in her eyes that Sister O’Keegan had seen before, but not in the Mother Superior. That was the same look Sister O’Keegan saw in her grandmother, when she was a little girl, and her grandmother already knew the answer to whatever she was asking.

“This whole business with The Wand, Mother. I can’t get it out of my mind. I feel like God has given me this amazing gift and I am just squandering it.” With a sigh she rubbed her face, “Oh, Mother. There is so much on my mind. Failing to bring back the school. The smoke and mirrors. My place in the world,” she laughed in a tone that was far more pained than amused. “Were the smoke and mirrors a message from God? Or from the universe? Or is The Wand the work of the Devil himself? I just don’t know the answers to any of these things and on top of it all, time is running out. Over and over I keep asking myself, is this a gift from God and would it be a great sin if I didn’t use it? Or is it a test from the Devil and I would be wise to never touch it? I just don’t know.”

Mother Superior took it all in and looked deep into the pond waters. Like all voices of wisdom, she spoke slowly and only after carefully choosing her words. “My child, I’m sure The Wand is not an instrument of evil. After all, look at the good it has brought into the world. The Wand, it seems to me, is neither good nor evil. Like all trappings of great power, it simply amplifies the good or bad within us all.”

“Mother, I’m not so sure I belong here anymore. I shouldn’t remain a nun.” Sister O’Keegan just blurted it out. She had no intention of admitting that. The thought was so predominant and repetitive in her head, it just fell out of her mouth without her fully being aware of what she was saying. The second she said it, she was both mortified to admit it and somehow relieved for getting it off her chest.

“I know.”

As stunned as Sister O’Keegan felt for blurting out her thoughts of leaving the Sisterhood, she was even more shocked by the nonchalant response of the Mother Superior. “You know? How could you know? I’ve only been thinking it since last night.”

Mother Superior explained, “My dear child, when you have served the Lord as long as I have, you start to be able to see the signs of those who are going to depart the church. Your eyes say it. Your mannerisms. Not to mention neglecting your chores.”

“I’m so sorry about that! I really - ”

“ - Stop.” Mother Superior waved it off again. “All is forgiven. I was only teasing.”

Lost back in her consuming thoughts, Sister O’Keegan explained, “I just think I could do more good outside the church than within it.”

“I know, my child. And I noticed how you and Superbman were looking at each other.”

“Oh, Mother Superior. Don’t be silly! I’ve no interest in being involved with anyone in such a way. Besides, he’s too old. He looks like he must be over 40.”

The Abbess laughed and although she had reached a great age and her body had grown frail, her eyes sparkled like those of a teenage girl.

“What’s so funny?” Sister O’Keegan wondered.

“Sometimes, my child, I forget just how young you are. Trust me, one day, you’ll understand how funny it is to think 40 is old.”

“So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”

“You are the only one who can determine if this gift is a sign from God or not. I can’t interpret His will for you. But more importantly, it doesn’t even matter. As you said, time is running out, and you must choose what you think is best for you.” Mother Superior pointed a finger at Sister O’Keegan on her final words.

“This time is truly testing my relationship with God.”

Mother Superior shifted on the bench and asked Sister O’Keegan very seriously, “Sister, do you know why I believe in God?”

That was certainly never a question Sister O’Keegan ever expected to be asked. “No, Mother. Why do you believe in God?”

Mother Superior rested a hand on Sister O’Keegan’s knee and explained, “Because I don’t think the lifeforce mankind calls ‘god’ is aware of its own existence, outside of our own cognizance. You see, my child, in ancient times, when men tried to express a sense of awe and wonder for being alive, they had no words to describe their astonishment towards that divinity. So they invented a new word called ‘god’. The only allegory they could invent to articulate their sense of transcendence was to have the humility of a child in the embrace of a parent. A mother figure. A father figure. A goddess. A god. But the truth is, the incarnation of the universe is only aware it exists through the conduit of sentient beings. ‘God’ is simply a word synonymous with the energy of the universe. A word mankind created, when no others words were adequate.”

Smiling softly, Sister O’Keegan sighed, “That’s beautiful. I never looked at it that way.”

“You must understand,” Mother Superior continued, “every religion that has ever existed is a metaphor. None of them are truth. Religions convey archetypes for an emotion mankind is too inarticulate to express. When a person has truly taken God into her heart, as you have, you will never need scriptures or rituals or dogmas or prayers ever again. The grace of the cosmos is embodied within your own soul. By surrendering yourself to that grace, as you have, you have become more a child of God than I have ever been.”

§

Sister O’Keegan was terrified as she stepped out of the Hollywood & Highland mall, walked down the sidewalk, and staked out a place in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in her Madame Fabulous costume she had purchased at a costume shop down the street.

After more than three years as a cloistered nun, the hustle and bustle of the Hollywood Walk of Fame was terrifying to her. Add to that the awkward embarrassment of being a modest member of the cloth who was now suddenly wearing a revealing and buxom superhero outfit and Madame Fabulous was absolutely trembling.

She had a small easel with a sign offering photos with her for $1.00.

The Wand was propped up against the easel.

“What am I doing?” Madame Fabulous muttered to herself.

She left like the entire boulevard was watching her, even though they weren’t at all.

Madame Fabulous had a vague understanding that there was a rather stringent and unwritten code among the street performers, but she didn’t fully grasp the semantics. All she knew was, Superbman was no longer working the street, so there had to be at least one vacant spot opened up. Presuming, that is, it hadn’t already been stolen by Marilyn Monroe or Michael Jackson or Batman.

The longer Madame Fabulous stood next to her easel, the more relaxed she became. None of the other street performers approached her and most of the tourists were ignoring her. Obviously, she didn’t want to remain entirely invisible all day, but it was a good way to ease into her new persona. She suspected her uncomfortable body language was helping her turn into a wallflower, despite wearing little more than stylized lingerie on one of the busiest streets in America.

Slowly, she began to come out of her shell.

Starting with a few smiles. Mostly at children. Little girls who recognized Madame Fabulous, they were the easiest people for her to feel anchored to in the crowds. Making eye contact with them felt safe.

Within another half hour, the smiles evolved into slight waves.

The worst times were when the crowd thinned out. Strangely enough, she felt the most self-conscious when there were less people around. When the sidewalk was packed, it was easier to disappear. When she was wide out in the open, it became far more difficult to vanish. That’s when the teenage boys and old men started to catch her eye and she wanted to rush back to the convent in tears.

But no.

Think of the kids.

Remember the school.

She couldn’t give up.

Not now.

This was too important and she had come too far.

Besides, what would be more humiliating? Standing out there on Hollywood Boulevard or crawling back to her old life as a failure?

No.

She would not go back.

This had to work.

Putting on her best smile, squaring her shoulders, fluffing up her voluptuous chestpiece, she started to wave at everyone. She even started to say, “Hello” and “Welcome to Hollywood” to some of the tourists.

But no one stopped.

Some people smiled back. Most ignored her.

A few people nodded politely.

Teenage boys checked out her ass.

But no one stopped.

Madame Fabulous was starting to panic. As the morning turned to afternoon, she grew frustrated. She needed to make money! The Wand only helps in your profession. If she wasn’t making a dime as a superhero street performer, this certainly didn’t qualify as her new profession.

In another hour, she almost packed up her easel and headed to a nearby food court. Instead, she decided to tough it out and she just walked a few feet over to a hotdog cart.

By the early evening, she hadn’t made a single dollar.

Madame Fabulous had long lost her fabulous smile.

What was she going to do now?

A few feet away, there was suddenly a commotion in the crowd.

She could hear some gutterpunk transients and a colored woman bickering. Madame Fabulous could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation.

“ - a dollar - ”

“ - not going to - ”

“ - bitch, I said - ”

“ - who you calling - ”

Madame Fabulous rushed over to the shouting. Hundreds of people were still cluttering the sidewalk. All of them were ignoring the two black girls and the two gutterpunks fighting against the building.

“I said you owe me a dollar! Last chance, bitch!” Yelled the punk.

The woman, putting her phone back in her purse shouted back, “This is a public street. I’m not paying you no dollar for taking your picture on a public street.”

Just then, Madame Fabulous tried to stop the fight and stepped in front of the young black woman, Chris Alderon. But young Chris Alderon never got to thank Madame Fabulous for saving her life, because Chris and her friend ran scared down the Boulevard, as the switchblade the gutterpunk meant to stab into Ms. Alderon’s stomach instead buried itself in the back of Madame Fabulous.

The gutterpunks took off running in the opposite direction and Madame Fabulous slumped against the wall, a streak of her blood staining the concrete.

Tourists started to scream, realizing this was no Hollywood performance. This was real.

Madame Fabulous couldn’t move.

The pain was like nothing she had ever felt before. The pain was like floating on an ocean of endless anguish. Every pore of her being seemed to be screaming, though she was so paralyzed by pain, there wasn’t a single sound coming out of her mouth. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, it was as though it was an aura glowing far outside her body for her body alone could not contain a suffering this overwhemling.

She had a vague sense of people gathering around her.

Calling for paramedics.

Voices telling her to keep calm.

Perhaps someone held her hand?

She couldn’t be sure.

Then a glow.

Off in the distance, a soft green glow.

As the glow grew more intense, more voices started screaming. The presence of people around her began to vanish. Madame Fabulous felt the world emptying. “This must be death,” she thought. The world slowly fading away. The green light coming to save her.

Strange that it was green, she thought.

She had always heard the final light we see is white.

The screams of tourists faded farther and farther away.

The green light grew brighter and brighter and as it came closer it seemed to wrap around her body like swaddling clothes. The illumination flowed into her back where the blade had penetrated her skin and as the light touched her, all that overpowering pain instantly began to vanish. Like a blast of heat from a stove, it consumed her, then was gone.

§

Madame Fabulous fell face first onto the Walk of Fame, just a few feet east of Drew Barrymore. The thwack of her cheek cracking into the marble was like being smacked out of a deep sleep.

There was a strange silence around her, followed by a growing murmur. Scrambling to her feet, hundreds of tourists were staring at her.

And at The Wand.

The Wand which was levitating just near her easel as a sparking green light slowly recoiled into the wood and disappeared.

Reaching for her back, she felt her stab wound.

It was gone.

Not even a scar.

That was when she noticed her gauntlets. Then her boots. Her corset. No longer cheap plastics and vinyl from a dimestore costume shop. Her uniform was now carbon fibers and nanosteels and micromemetic polymetals, just like in the comic books.

Was she telekinetic like Madame Fabulous too?

A heavy sigh through her nose, she squared up those shoulders again and reached for The Wand. Within half a second, it shot 20 feet across the sidewalk and smacked into her open hand.

Slowly, the crowd began to clap.

A few people began to cheer.

“That was awesome!”

“When is the movie coming out!?”

“Mad-ame. Fab-ulous! Mad-ame. Fab-ulous! Mad-ame. Fab-ulous!”

Madame Fabulous was still stunned.

It had worked!

She didn’t need to make money to qualify as a superhero. She just had to do something heroic. There was an emotional tone to the light which had emanated from The Wand. Almost human. Empathetic. As she had started to lose consciousness, the green glow felt both apologetic for the smoke and mirrors fiasco and proud of her for saving the woman on Hollywood Boulevard. Madame Fabulous wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination or if The Wand seemed to have a conscience.

Then, from all the shouting and cheering of the crowd, who thought the pyrotechnics and stabbing were part of a movie promotion, came the voice of one little girl. One of the first little girls that Madame Fabulous had seen smile at her that morning. “Go get them, Madame Fabulous! The bad guys went that way!”

Madame Fabulous glared down Hollywood Boulevard.

The crowd began to part, giving her room to run down the street.

“Thanks, kid.”

Madame Fabulous wasn’t about to run.

Crouching down, she launched fifty feet into the air in seconds. The crowd went ballistic. Hundreds of camera phones were recording this.

Madame Fabulous was desperately trying to be cool and confident like any real superhero, but levitating to a dizzying height over a crowd of hundreds when she had never done it before, nearly made her pee herself.

Whispering under her breath, she mumbled faster and faster, “Oh, God. Oh, God. OhGod. OhGodOhGod.”

Then she saw them. They had run west towards Franklin and ducked down an alley off of North Orange.

Madame Fabulous took a deep breath.

Okay.

Here goes.

The moment she had been waiting for.

Levitating was one thing.

Flying was something else.

Hundreds of people were watching.

Don’t make a fool of yourself, lady.

One more deep breath.

Madame Fabulous rocketed towards the alley and the crowds erupted in the loudest cheers of all.

“How did they do that!?”

“The movie is going to be incredible!”

“They really made her look like she can fly!”

“Must be a huge crane behind the theatre or something.”

“Where are the wires!?”

More than a block away, the crowd couldn’t see Madame Fabulous when she reached the quiet alley where her assailants were hiding.

Laughing and joking, they were getting ready to share a joint. Totally unaffected by the fact they just stabbed and killed someone, they were neither celebrating their crime nor being remorseful for it. By the time they had run free of the crowd, they were giving the fate of Madame Fabulous no more thought than if she had been a spider on the wall squished in a tissue.

“Hello, boys.” Madame Fabulous called out.

Confused, they glanced overhead in the direction of the voice.

Seeing Madame Fabulous hovering twenty feet above them, they screamed and ran. They didn’t get ten paces before Madame Fabulous used her telekinesis to pick them up off the ground. They screamed even louder, feet flailing.

“What the hell!?”

“Put us down!”

“You need a bath and your mother dresses you funny.” Madame Fabulous mocked.

They didn’t get her joke.

She groaned at how awful her own humor was. Were terrible puns some sort of unavoidable side effect of becoming a superhero? Was bad enough to have the hero spout lame jokes in comics and movies, now she was making them in real life too?

For a moment, she was going to take them directly to the Hollywood police station on Wilcox and DeLongpre. Then, she got a much better idea.

§

“Let this be a message to all criminals, not only in the city of Los Angeles, but all around the world, The Guardian League is here to defend the ideals of liberty and integrity. At any cost, we will protect the freedom and security of all people from this day forth.” Madame Fabulous proudly announced in the middle of the street, back in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, as her two attackers were gagged and bound with their own shirts and hovering upsidedown, five feet above the ground.

She knew speaking on behalf of The Guardian League wasn’t the most ethical thing to do, but she also knew it would get their attention. Within minutes, there were dozens of videos posted on the internet.

As Madame Fabulous walked into the Hollywood Police Station, the gutterpunks floated in front of her.

“Officer,” she said to the policeman behind the counter. “These gentlemen attempted to stab a woman to death on Hollywood Boulevard this evening. I’m sure they will confess to a number of other crimes as well. Won’t you, boys?”

The shirts which had gagged them came unraveled and they started shouting, “No way, lady!”

“You can’t prove anything!”

Madame Fabulous telekinetically slammed their heads into the linoleum.

“Come again?”

“Ow!”

“Jeezus!”

Wack! Wack!

“Ow! Okay! Okay, lady! We’ll talk!”

“Damnit! Okay! The old woman two days ago at the convenience store! We mugged her.”

“And, and those kids outside the theatre!”

They confessed to at least half a dozen crimes in the Hollywood area over the past two weeks. Madame Fabulous finally turned them upright and the blood rushing out of their heads made them collapse and nearly faint.

The police sat dumbfounded and picked them up off the floor.

“Have a good evening officers.” Madame Fabulous announced.

“Hey! Hold it right there, lady! You’re with that Guardian League, we can’t let you go.”

“I’m sorry, officer, but you have no legal right to detain me. Your job is to uphold and defend the Constitution, not to enforce laws passed by bureaucrats. Keep in mind that you are an employee of taxpaying and law-abiding citizens. Therefore, as a law-abiding citizen, I am your boss. You are under my jurisdiction and you obey my orders, I do not submit to yours.”

With those final words, Madame Fabulous walked out of the Hollywood police department. As an officer tried to follow her, she telekinetically braced the door so he couldn’t open it and follow her outside.

Once she reached the sidewalk, she flew back to the Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.

Superbman was waiting for her.

“Hold it right there, lady!” Superbman pointed at her. “Where did you get The Wand you’re holding?”

Superbman feared the worst. Was this girl some kind of thief? Did she steal The Wand from Sister O’Keegan and give herself this power?

The crowds of tourists didn’t even notice them as they met in midair, a hundred feet above the theatre.

“I knew you’d come looking for me.” Madame Fabulous grinned. “Monitoring the police bands?”

Superbman kind of recognized her voice and the masquerade mask didn’t hide her face that well, but it couldn’t be. She was a nun!

“Yes,” Superbman replied, “as a matter of fact I was. And the viral videos posting all over the web. I don’t know who you think you are, but you are not a member of The Guardian League and you do not speak for us.”

“I was hoping I could be.”

Hearing her voice again, now he was sure. “Sister O’Keegan? Is that you?”

“Not anymore. Madame Fabulous now,” she said as she laughed and quite literally flew circles around him.

Superbman laughed too and watched her pirouette a hundred feet above the street. “What? But, you’re a nun. How - ? How on earth did this happen?”

“I’ll explain the whole story on the way back to your headquarters.”

“Yes. Yes, of course! Oh, thank goodness. Here I was terrified you were some kind of supervillain.”

Madame Fabulous was just proud of the fact that she was able to scare the only other superhero in the world. She noticed that he was pretty cute when he was nervous.

Maybe Mother Superior had been right about him after all.

Chapter Twelve

Madame Fabulous explained her entire story to Amanda, Scott and Superbman, back at the Citadel of Isolation. The three of them all mutually loved Sister O’Keegan, and welcomed her as a member of Die Hüterin Liga without question. There was no debate. There wasn’t even a vote. Just an instant acceptance.

She slept soundly in her chambers that night, watching the stars high overhead. For the first time in months, Madame Fabulous finally felt like she was home. At long last, she felt God had her on the proper path.

§

“Good morning! Any plans today?” Scott asked Madame Fabulous.

She was a bit startled to bump into him in the kitchen. Three years of living with nuns, it was a bit odd to have a man greeting her in the morning.

“Oh! Uh, yes. Good morning. Plans? Well, I presumed I’d be out with you three. Whatever missions you have?”

“No,” Amanda clarified, “Scott meant with The Wand.”

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed, “Today is your last day, isn’t it?”

“Oh! The Wand. Yes, it’s the last day.” Madame Fabulous gingerly took a seat, realizing she hadn’t given it much thought. “I don’t really know. Once I thought of becoming Madame Fabulous, I guess I didn’t think much beyond that.”

“You should.” Amanda observed, though with a kindly tone, not judgmentally.

“Yes. Of course. You’re right. Would be a shame to waste the final day.”

Superbman came into the room and greeted everyone before asking, “What would be a shame?”

“To waste the final day with The Wand.” Amanda explained.

“Well,” Superbman interjected, “I think Madame Fabulous has done plenty. Maybe planning who to give it to next is a better idea.”

The other three heroes agreed.

“Don’t worry,” Scott explained. “After today you can be 100% a part of Die Hüterin Liga and coming on missions with us. Today, just spend the afternoon deciding what to do with The Wand.”

Soon thereafter, the heroes were off to thwart a bank robbery in South Central while Madame Fabulous was going a bit stir-crazy.

She didn’t want to just stay cooped-up indoors, thinking. So, she decided to patrol the tourist traps where her costume wouldn’t get much attention. Venice. Third Street Promenade. Back to Hollywood Boulevard.

Madame Fabulous couldn’t help but laugh to herself in Hollywood.

No one was giving her a second look.

No one was paying attention.

One day after the entire street was watching her fly through the air and recording her on cellphones, entirely new sets of tourists were there and would stroll past her, entirely oblivious.

Chucking, she realized the old Hollywood cliché was true:

You’re only as good as your last picture.

Throughout the day, she kept thinking about the promise she made to Mr. Electrico at the gradeschool, “And if it doesn’t work, we still won’t give up.”

No.

More than “thinking” about her promise.

She was haunted by it.

As the sun went down on Hollywood, Madame Fabulous found herself returning to the site of the vanished gradeschool.

Once again, parents were starting to gather for a nightly vigil.

Once again, few people payed much attention to the fact she was dressed like a superhero. Even off the Boulevard, Hollywood never pays much attention to strange heroes in masked outfits.

§

“This is Ellen Daniels reporting live from the former site of Treasure Trail Elementary School; the school which inexplicably vanished mere days ago, along with the attending students and staff. There were no witnesses to the disappearance of the building, but school officials estimate the impossible event happened sometime between 12:00p.m. and 2:00p.m. that day. Tonight, I’m here with young Jason Lewis, a student at Treasure Trail Elementary School. While school district records show approximately half-a-dozen of the 487 children enrolled at Treasure Trail Elementary were home sick, Jason has the distinction of being the only student who was sent home early that fateful day. An early dismissal, as it turns out, that may have saved his life. Can you tell us what happened that day?”

Jason was about 12 years of age and looked uncomfortable on camera, but told his shoes the story. “Well, I didn’t feel so good when I woke up. But we were going on a fieldtrip over at the Magic Castle and I didn’t want to miss it. So I went, and they did some really cool shows for us, and gave us these magic wands and stuff, but I got sick after we had lunch and I started to throw up. So, Mrs. Petrowski sent me home. My grandma came and picked me up. My friend Nick sent me this text to see how I was feeling, and, well, then I didn’t hear from him anymore.”

“So the school was here that morning?”

“Uh, huh.”

Madame Fabulous rushed over to Jason and interrupted the broadcast. “Jason! Your name is Jason?”

The newswoman looked flustered, “Pardon me, ma’am, this is a live news broadcast.”

Madame Fabulous glared and telekinetically lifted Ellen Daniels and her cameraman off of the ground and stuffed them back into their newsvan amidst much screaming, flailing, and protesting.

Jason and his mother stared at Madame Fabulous in awe as others gathered for the vigil gasped and ran. Some just kept their distance and watched.

“Madame Fabulous?” Jason whispered. He had long been an avid fan of her comic books and the Mutant Generations series.

“Yes, Jason. I need your help. Now, did I hear you right? You say that you have one of the magic wands from The Magic Mansion fieldtrip?”

“You stay away from my son!” Jason’s mother stepped between them. She was shaking, glancing back at the newscasters.

Madame Fabulous rose back to her feet. “Ma’am, I’m not going to hurt your son. I just need to ask him some questions.”

“It’s okay, mom.”

The mother didn’t budge. “Jason, you be quiet.”

“Ma’am, please don’t make me ask again.”

“Mom! Please!”

“No, no. I’ve seen you people on the news. You’re all criminals!”

Madame Fabulous didn’t want to risk upsetting Jason, otherwise she would have thrown the mother aside too. But Madame Fabulous needed to keep Jason calm, so he’d hand over his wand.

Standing up straight, Madame Fabulous levitated into the air and reached a hand towards the boy. She telekinetically lifted Jason about two feet off the ground. “Jason, would you like to fly with me for a little bit?”

Gasping, Jason’s eyes flared, “Wow! YES!”

Madame Fabulous announced, “Ma’am? Since you refuse to let me peacefully have a conversation with your son in your presence, I’m taking your son to speak with him in private. We’ll be right back.”

“What!? You most certainly are not! You’re not taking my son anywhere!”

The woman protested at nothing, because Jason was already screaming with delight and excitement as Madame Fabulous flew into the sky, carrying the boy with her. Madame Fabulous and Jason flew high into the hills above the schoolgrounds as the shouts of his mother faded in the distance. The little boy was so excited about flying, he didn’t even hear his mom screaming.

Settling into the hilltop, Madame Fabulous repeated, “The magic wand. You still have it?”

“That was awesome!”

“Jason!”

“Oh, my mom’s gonna kill me though.”

“Jason! Listen to me!”

“Wha? Huh? Oh, I’m sorry.” Jason stopped staring down the mountain and looked at Madame Fabulous. “Uh, yes. Yeah. I still have the wand.”

Madame Fabulous kneeled in front of him, stared at Jason very seriously and asked, “Does it work?”

Jason looked uneasy. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Looking more upset, Jason started to panic. “I didn’t do it! I swear! I don’t know what happened. I think it was Paul.”

“Paul?”

Jason nodded quickly. “Uh, huh. Tony. Tony Todaro. A kid in my class. Nick said, Tony was messing around with his wand, trying to make the school disappear.” Jason had confessed none of this to anyone else. But in the face of a gorgeous redheaded superhero, he didn’t want to risk lying.

“Where is your wand now?”

“Yes, ma’am. At home.” Jason didn’t know why he said “yes, ma’am”. He was just nervous.

“Jason? How far away is your house?”

He pointed, “Just a few miles that way.”

§

Mr. Electrico and Die Hüterin Liga stood around the field with Jason Lewis and his mother. Madame Fabulous noted that Mrs. Lewis was much more cooperative this time.

“Now, Jason,” Mr. Electrico explained, “I suggest we try this very carefully. The way the spell is phrased could be very important to making it work. Maybe something like, ‘I wish the school and all the people who were inside when it vanished would come back from wherever they are.’”

The others nodded in agreement, all having experience with The Wand that started this whole mess.

Jason nodded, and waved his wand, “Bring back my school!”

Nothing happened.

“Oh! And everything that was lost with it!” Jason added, his smile melting once he saw nothing continuing to happen.

Everyone waited.

Still nothing.

Mr. Electrico chuckled, but with compassion, not mockery. “No, son. That’s what I meant. Breaking the spell might be very complicated. We’ll have to find exactly the right words and phrasing to make - ”

With a blinding flash of golden light, Treasure Trail Elementary School rematerialized. The blast of light knocked everyone off their feet including the reporters and observers. The police merely shielded their eyes inside their cars. They had been sent to arrest the superheroes, but thanks to the telekinesis of Madame Fabulous, none of them could open their cardoors.

“Yes!”

“You did it!”

“Oh, my gosh!”

“Good job, Jason!”

The Guardian League hugged each other and clapped at the sight. Parents broke down in tears and dropped to their knees. Everyone frantically scanned the school windows for signs of life.

Students and teachers moved within the building, smiles beaming across faces, fingers pointing, mouthing, “Look! Look! We’re back! We’re home!”

“Hooray for the Guardian League!” Mr. Electrico shouted, loud enough to make sure all the crowd heard him. Especially the police.

The multitudes cheered for the superheros as Madame Fabulous released the police officers.

Astonished, the officers approached, flabbergasted as everyone else at having witnessed the school reappear.

“See?” Superbman said to the patrolmen, “We are the good guys.”

The nearest cop, still awestruck and staring towards the building, shook hands with Superbman, “That you are, sir. That you are!”

As the school came back into being, strange tendrils of golden light rippled away from it, like ten thousand tentacles from a starlight squid. As the tentacles of light slithered into the city, they transformed the landscape. Odd bits of deep jungle and trees and foliage became slathered across the whole of the Los Angeles basin, across the Santa Monica Mountains, stretching as far west as the coastline and east as the San Gabriels.

With the vista came strange noises.

Things lurking far inside the dark underbrush.

Things no one dared to name.

Scott was the first to whisper, “What the hell was that?”

Before anyone could answer, students and teachers within the school ran from the classrooms. In a sudden clamor, parents and families attending the vigil began to run towards the doors of the building, while students inside cheered and began to rush down stairs towards exits just as quickly as their feet could carry them.

Chapter Thirteen

Mrs. McCreadle touched her daughter on the arm.

“Sweetie? Did you hear that?”

Hanna looked at her mother. “Hear what?”

A guttural roar and a low thud shivered in the distance. The two women moved outside of their hair salon to the balcony. That was when the women noticed strange things about the neighborhood. In the distance, some trees and foliage looked wrong. The change was subtle and difficult to notice, but the more Hanna looked around from that vantage point, the more she realized that in random directions, the landscape was slightly different.

The noise came again.

Louder.

Closer.

Like a dumptruck tumbling off a cliff.

“Earthquake?”

“Doesn’t feel like any earthquake I ever - ”

- BLAM! -

Hanna and Mrs. McCreadle both jumped and gazed around frantically for the source of the noise. Windows rattled it had been so loud. One street over, now came shrieks and screams from neighboring houses.

“Mom?” Hanna gulped.

“Maybe we should get back inside the house.”

“Okay. Good idea.”

Just then, as the two women dashed for the house, their next-door neighbor’s fence exploded in a blast of dust and splinters as a 40 foot tall giganotosaurus came crashing through the trees.

It roared louder than the sound of stadium loudspeakers.

The McCreadle women screamed.

And it looked right at them.

“Run!”

Run?

Poor old Mrs. McCreadle hadn’t “run” in decades.

Then again, she never had a better incentive.

The ladies dashed towards the house as the giganotosaurus came knocking through the fence and rushed at them. As the beast neared the swimming pool, it sniffed, and became distracted. Ignoring the hunt for the women, the giganotosaurus gulped a drink from the waters.

“What should we do?” Mrs. McCreadle snaked into the house, clamoring around furniture and doorways.

“Get the car. Get the car!” Hanna pointed towards the garage.

The women rushed into their garage and started the car as the giganotosaurus began sniffing around the perimeter of their house. When it reached the front yard, the screams of other neighbors and cars drew it’s attention again. Between the movement of car headlights and running people, the giganotosaurus was bewildered. These were all things it had never seen before.

When the McCreadle women peeled out of the garage, the giganotosaurus was already three houses down the road.

“Wait. Wait!” Mrs. McCreadle ordered her daughter as they screeched to a halt in the middle of the driveway.

Hanna quickly turned off the headlights and shifted into “Park” so the brakelights would go out.

The giganotosaurus continued away from the women as they sighed in relief. Hanna nodded, “It’s leaving.”

Moving down the mountainside, the creature continued into valleys and up into the east.

“It has to be The Wand. It has to be!” Mrs. McCreadle noted.

“What kind of job could make dinosaurs come to life?”

“Must have been an archeologist. Or maybe someone at the natural history museum?”

“I think you mean ‘paleontologist’, mom.”

“Whatever! Why would someone do that!?”

“I don’t know, mom!”

“Oh, this is terrible. I never should have given that Wand away. Look what happened!”

“Mom, it’s not your fault.”

Strange growls and cackles and screeches echoed from other parts of the neighborhood. Clearly, the retreating giganotosaurus wasn’t the only beastly thing in the dark.

“Come on, mom. Let’s get back inside.”

Suddenly, a thick mist fogged every window on the car.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! What on earth?” Mrs. McCreadle rolled down her window to clear the fog.

A row of massive teeth peered from under snarled gums as the second giganotosaurus stared at the two women.

“Hanna!”

Both women screamed at the top of their lungs.

Jamming the car into reverse, Hanna peeled out of the driveway. The rear window so fogged, she plowed over the mailbox.

Slamming the gearshift back into drive, Hanna peeled down the street.

Howling, the second giganotosaurus was chasing right behind them.

Hanna couldn’t see a thing through the steamed windows.

“Wipers! Wipers!”

“Oh! Damnit!” Hanna fumbled for the windshield wiper button.

She jumped the curb and plowed over three pink flamingos in the process.

“Look out! Look out!” Mrs. McCreadle screamed.

The wipers and headlights on high, Hanna tore down the street, catching up closer and closer to the first giganotosaurus.

Mrs. McCreadle pointed at the first dinosaur as their car was in danger of hitting it in the back of the ankles or being crushed underfoot. “Slow down. Slow down!”

“STOP TELLING ME HOW TO DRIVE!”

Alice Szostak had been watering her lawn and hadn’t stopped watering the same spot for the past 2 minutes as she watched the McCreadle women tear down the street in their car, sandwiched between two galloping dinosaurs.

Mrs. McCreadle’s passenger window still open, their screams could be heard as they careened past.

“I’m not telling you how to drive!”

“JUST STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!”

“I’M NOT TELLING YOU WHAT TO DO!”

Alice Szostak’s lawn had a huge mudpuddle in the corner.

The end of the street ended in a “T” with a stand of trees dead ahead.

“Hanna! Turn! Turn!”

“I’m turning! I’m turning! I see it!”

Cranking the wheel hard to the left, the McCreadle women barreled onto the next street. But as they made the turn, the car fishtailed and the tires bashed into the high curb, sending them up on two wheels.

The first giganotosaurus heard the noise and turned around as the second lunged for the car.

Slamming its snout into the McCreadle car, the vehicle was knocked on its side, wheels spinning in midair.

The women screamed as the giganotosauruses nipped at each other for rights to claim their metallic food. One sunk its teeth into the front half of the car. The other bit into the trunk.

Wringing back their necks, the battling monsters hoisted the car into the sky.

“Hannaaaaa!”

“Mommmm!”

Suspended twenty feet in the air, as the ladies shouted and held onto each other, the dinosaurs raised their heads and tugged on the car like a wishbone.

Chapter Fourteen

“Who did this?” Mr. Electrico asked, as he collected the last of the Magic Mansion wands from the junior high students.

“Paul Knight!” Stephanie Morgan, a tall and lanky girl, didn’t hesitate to snitch on her classmate immediately. “I heard him.”

“Paul Knight? He cast the spell?”

“Yeah,” Shelly Blanks said. “I heard him too. We were just starting to figure out that the magic wands really worked for real and Paul said, ‘I wish the school would disappear and no other wands in school can ever bring any of it back.’ So, when other kids tried to use our magic wands to get us back home, it didn’t work! That stupid jerk!”

Madame Fabulous asked, “You heard him? That’s exactly what he said?”

“Yeah. Well, something like that.”

Madame Fabulous understood, “Of course. Jason.”

“Jason?” Scott asked.

“Jason was sent home sick. Don’t you see? Paul cast a spell that no wands in school could bring the school back. Jason’s wand wasn’t in school. He was the only kid from the fieldtrip who was back at home.”

“Of course. Good work, Madame Fabulous.” Superbman grinned.

Amanda and Scott chuckled. “Good work, Madame Fabulous?” Who talks that way? He was really taking this superhero thing seriously. The guy was even talking like he was in a comic book.

“Which of you is Paul Knight?” Mr. Electrico asked the class.

Students stared guiltily at the ground.

No one confessed a thing.

Chapter Fifteen

Most of the men at the fire department were turning in for bed when the knock came on the door.

“Who in the world could that be?” Frank Thomas mumbled.

Shuffling to the door, smelling of smoke, he was tired from a long day of training.

The banging returned.

“Hang on. Hang on.” Frank muttered.

Opening the door, a man in disheveled clothing stumbled towards Frank. The man looked homeless, but his face was grotesquely deformed and bloodied.

“Braaaaains!” Growled the man, his arms outstretched.

“Oh, jeez!” Frank gasped. “Ward! We have a burn victim here!”

“Braaaaains!”

Frank turned back to the man who was still shambling into the firehouse. “Okay, buddy. Just calm down. Brains? You hit your head?”

“Braaaaains!”

As Frank tried to help the man onto a stretcher, he clawed at Frank.

“Whoa! Calm down buddy!”

As Ward Kimball came rushing over, the man lunged. “Braaaains!”

“Frank, look out!”

The man tried to bite Frank when his back was turned. Dodging at the last possible second, Frank spun around and avoided his teeth by inches.

“Hey! What’s the matter with you?” Frank looked at Ward, “This guy must have hit his head really hard!”

Another bang came on the door.

Then more bangs on the garage.

Moaning and guttural groans came from outside.

“Uh. Frank?” Ward stammered. “I don’t think that’s a burn victim.”

“Braaaains!”

Frank stumbled backwards as a mouthful of blood poured from the man. “Ugh. I think maybe he has a stomach injury.”

“Zombies!” Shouted Captain Clark. As he sprinted towards the hook and ladder truck, he looked at Frank and Ward with “why-are-you-just-standing-there!?” eyes. “Zombies!” He repeated, jerking a thumb towards the back door of the garage where ten more zombies had burst into the firehouse.

“Zombies? There’s no such thing as - ” Frank finally realized what was standing in front of him.

As the zombie lunged for Frank again, he twirled and grabbed a fire ax off the wall. “Zombies!” Cocking it back, the blade of steel hit the zombie full in the face, snapping his rotting neck backwards.

Dropping the ax and screaming towards the hook and ladder truck, Frank and Ward joined the other shrieking men of the firehouse. As the garage door opened, twenty more undead poured into the building. With them came a wave of stench like bad breath and rotten meat.

“Go! Go! Go!” Captain Clark yelled to Marc Davis as he gunned the engine and the truck blasted out of the gate.

Ward grabbed ahold of the siderail at the last second.

Frank barely caught Ward’s fingertips as he pulled Frank onboard.

Zombies tried to grab at the truck as it flew past.

Hurtling down the street, the entirety of the road seemed to be rife with the creatures. Blocking traffic. Shambling out of alleys.

As the firetruck blared lights and sirens and weaved dangerously through traffic, a larger swarm of zombies filled the next intersection.

“What do I do?” Marc sweated.

Captain Clark waved him on, “Keep going. Keep going!”

The men who had scrambled onto the truck began to rip the hoses off their moorings. Wolfgang jammed a lever into place, activating the onboard water tank.

Six firehoses, three on each side of the truck, began to simultaneously douse the approaching hordes, sending the zombies toppling across the road and into unwitting cars.

As the men desperately clung to the careening truck, they each struggled to hold the powerful hoses. With the deck rails getting wet, Ollie slipped off the rear of the truck.

“Ollie!” Frank shouted.

Thinking fast, Milt shut off the valve to Ollie’s hose. Losing water pressure, the hose went limp. Reaching for something to hold, Ollie accidentally unfastened the strap holding the spineboards. Tires screeching, the truck whipped around a corner. A pair of spineboards flung out of their compartments. One hit Ollie square in the chest. Another entangled in the waterless hose as Ollie plummeted backwards towards the street.

“Ollie!” Milt yelled.

Spinning around, Ollie grabbed onto the spineboard. Fifteen feet behind the truck, Ollie was getting dragged with the entangled hose like a wakeboarder.

A zombie dove for him.

“Help!” Ollie screamed. Kicking at the head of the zombie, he knocked it back into the fray.

Frank shut off his hose and climbed to the front of the truck. He pounded on the glass at the Captain and Marc. “Hey! Stop! Stop! We lost Ollie! We lost Ollie! He fell off!”

“Fell off!?” Captain Clark checked the rearview mirror. Between the spraying water, he saw the spineboard getting dragged. Ollie was knocking away zombies and screaming his head off. “Oh, jeezus! Marc! You gotta stop! Ollie is getting dragged.”

“Stop? They’ll all get us!”

“Stop the truck!”

Marc was weaving a left turn as he slammed on the powerful brakes.

Ollie and the spineboard slingshotted around the right side of the vehicle and kept right on going.

“Hellllllllllp!” Ollie’s voices echoed as he sailed past. The spineboard whacked into three zombies and decapitated them before coming to a stop in the road.

Ollie kicked a head off his legs. “Ew! Get off me! Off! Off! Off!”

The water started to run out and the zombies began charging again.

They started surrounding the truck.

They started surrounding Ollie.

Cars still skittered through the swarms of zombies, trying to get free. Piling into the roadway, most cars were forced to stop. People tried getting out and running on foot, but ended up falling to the ground, screaming.

Marc hit the gas again.

“Ollie! Stay there!” Captain Clark shouted.

“Stay here!?”

“We’ll reel you in!” Captain Clark poked his head back to the rear of the truck. “You hear that!? Reel Ollie back in!”

Accelerating back down the road, there was just enough time to pull Ollie back onto the truck before any zombies turned his brains into lunch.

“Thanks, guys.” Ollie grabbed the rail, safely aboard again.

“Braaaaaains!” Suddenly, a zombie reached up from under the rig, clawing at Ollie’s ankle.

“What the!?” Ollie shouted.

Losing his footing, Ollie grabbed for the spineboard and fell back onto the street where he had just been rescued from. Frank, trying to hold on, was thrown off the truck with him.

Both men screamed as the limp firehose unraveled and they were dragged onto the spineboard once more.

“Not again!” Ollie shrieked.

The zombie beneath the truck leapt towards the firehose and started shimming towards the men.

Frank and Ollie looked at the zombie. Then each other.

Simultaneously, they screamed at the guys back on the truck. “Heeeeeeelp!”

The men back on the truck got an idea.

They grabbed for one of the 20 foot ladders mounted to the side of the truck and started hefting it towards the spineboard.

“Braaaains!”

“I’m getting sick of hearing them say that!” Ollie commented.

“Hurry up!” Frank shouted.

The men on the truck raced to knock the zombie off the hose before it reached the men at the end.

“Faster!” Ollie yelled.

The firetruck turned sharp and headed up towards Mulholland. Marc figured the mountains and winding roads would make it easier to lose the zombie hordes.

He was wrong.

As they headed up the mountains, more of the undead were crawling out of the ground.

Back on the hose, the zombie was just about to bite at Ollie when the bottom ladder rung slammed into its head. Losing its grip, the zombie wailed and tumbled off the spineboard onto the road.

Frank and Ollie eased themselves onto the ladder and climbed back aboard the truck. Once they were another few miles down the road, they passed a strange looking ziggurat near Beverly Glen. The pyramid looked like a gigantic Aztec temple. That had certainly never been there before.

“Thanks guys.” Ollie panted.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Frank caught his breath too.

Marc finally started to slow down the truck.

“I think we’re in the clear, boys.” Captain Clark told them. “Frank? Ollie? You okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All good, Captain.”

Easing the truck next to an overlook, Marc came to a stop.

The men grabbed axes and jumped off the truck. Every single one of them made sure to leap as far away as possible, and immediately looked beneath the undercarriage to make sure they were no more zombies hitching a ride beneath the trailer.

All clear.

The men finally breathed a sigh of relief.

No one said a word. They all just leaned up against the truck, trembling. Trying to calm down.

Relaxing at the top of the mountain, the men heard a whispering noise overhead.

Madame Fabulous and Amanda zinged past, just above the trees.

Ward puzzles, “Um. Did... Did you guys just see Madame Fabulous and a manga battlecopter fly over us?”

“Madame Fabulous? Like the comic book character?” John wondered.

“Yep.” Marc, also gazing at the heavens, confirmed, and didn’t seem too surprised. “I saw them.”

Frank chuckled, glanced skyward, and patted Ward on the shoulder, “Ward, my friend. Ordinarily, I would say you were crazy. But after what happened tonight, I don’t doubt that’s exactly what you just saw.”

Chapter Sixteen

“I wish the school would disappear to - to a... place where everything vanishes forever, and - and, um, no other wands in school can ever bring any of it back.”

Paul Knight and his friends laughed.

“Yeah!”

“That’s awesome!”

“No more school! Woohoo!”

“Aw, man. Nothing happened. Is your wand broken?”

Melissa Jorgensen scolded them, “Shut up! What are you doing!?”

The air rippled around the students of Treasure Trail Elementary School as if they were standing inside a mirage. Everything appeared to liquefy for a moment, then solidify again.

“Whoa. What was that? Did you see that?”

Kids rubbed their eyes, uncertain of what they had just seen.

Dashing to the windows, the students in Mr. Mayocks class were astonished to see their school playground had vanished and was replaced by jungles. One of the first spells the students cast paralyzed Mr. Mayock into a wooden statue. As a result, he simply sat at his desk, frozen, and said nothing.

Nearly a dozen students began to argue.

“You idiot!”

“What?”

“Why is there a jungle outside?”

“You made a jungle?”

“Duh. Don’t you get it? You guys are so stupid!”

“Why? Because we made a jungle?”

“You didn’t make a jungle, you dummy! You teleported the whole school into a jungle.”

“He did not! You’re retarded.”

“Yeah, you did. You made the school disappear while we were all in it! You moron! You should have done that spell when we were outside!”

“You mean cast the spell, not done the spell.”

“Oh, who cares how you say it!? Retard!”

Realizing what happened, kids began to panic.

Out in the hallways, you could start to hear the frantic murmur of confusion in other classrooms.

“Where are we?”

“Send us back!”

“I’ll do it.”

Melissa raised her wand, but nothing happened. No matter how many times she flourished it, she was just waving a useless stick in the air. “What the hell?”

“It won’t work! You heard him. ‘I wish no other wands can ever bring it back.’ You trapped us here! Jackass!”

“Wait. Wait. What if we just send ourselves home? Without the school?”

“Yeah!”

“Good idea.”

“Let’s try it.”

A few more flourishes of wands and everyone stayed in the room.

Other students tried.

They failed too.

One of the students went to Mr. Mayock’s desk and grabbed some school stationary. “Hey! It’s not going to work!”

Melissa asked, “Why not?”

The girl holding the Treasure Trail Elementary School stationary pointed at the motto printed across the top of the page:

Where the students are the school.

§

“I’m going to kill you!” Melissa yelled, raising her wand.

“Whoa! Whoa! Hold on! Just calm down!”

“No! I’m going to kill him!”

“Not if I kill you first!”

Paul’s friends tried to calm him down. “Screw this, dude. Let’s get out of here. We’ll find a way back home. Even if we have to walk. You probably sent us to the Amazon or something.”

“Where are you going?” Shelly asked Melissa.

“I’m going to find a way home too. I’m not sitting around waiting for him to kill me.” Melissa stormed off, exiting the opposite door of the classroom.

“Oh, he’s not going to kill you. He’s just trying to talk big in front of his friends.”

“Who’s coming with me?” Melissa poked her head back in the room.

Jenneane Petro, Shelly Blanks, Linda Elliot, and Karen Novak all jogged over to the door.

Nick Patton, Paul Gerowski, and Tony Todaro headed out the other door to follow Paul Knight.

The rest of the kids murmured about staying right there and not going anyplace until some teachers came to tell them what to do. Keith Riggs tried to lift the spell that froze Mr. Mayock, as the feuding groups of boys and girls walked out of the classroom and left the school.

Chapter Seventeen

As Erica Riley drove home from the skatepark with her new boyfriend, Russel, he slammed on the brakes when they reached her street. “Holy crap!”

Erica screamed, “Russ!”

“Did you see that!?”

She did ever. How could she have missed it? “What the hell was that?”

Just then, two more utahraptors sprang from behind some bushes and flanked the car, illuminated just at the periphery of the headlight beams.

Erica whispered, “Russ? Are those - ?”

“Dinosaurs?” Russel was asking her, as much as he was answering.

Slowly, the utahraptors began to encroach.

“Go. Go. Go!”

Russel floored the gas as one of the utahraptors jumped in front of the car. The passenger-side front bumper slammed into its leg, sending a howl through the canyons.

Erica screamed as the car sped away and the three utahraptors began to chase them up the street.

“Russ! What the hell are they!?” Erica glanced back over her shoulder, the feathery beasts, nearly six feet tall and over 20 feet long were unlike any other dinosaurs she had ever seen.

Russel had been a dinosaur fanatic as a boy, as many boys are, and he speculated, “I think they’re utahraptor ostrommaysorums.”

Erica couldn’t hope to pronounce that. “Uta-Whats?”

“Utahraptors.”

“Raptors!? I thought raptors were smaller.”

Russel frowned, “No. Unfortunately these are about normal size.”

When the fireball engulfed the car, Erica screamed.

“Raptors, my ass! THOSE ARE DRAGONS!”

“Jeezus!”

“Dragons, Russ! D! R! A! G! O! N! S!”

“I know! I know how to spell dragons!”

“Drive!”

“Why are there dragons chasing us?”

Erin squinted, “How am I supposed to know?”

“I bet this is all your fault!”

“My fault!?”

“Payback for that magic wand you used!”

“Oh, it’s my fault we are being chased by dragons!?”

“Haven’t you ever seen any movies or Twilight Zone episodes!? People always have to pay the price for using black magic!”

“Or maybe someone else made them and they’re chasing you because they can smell jackasses!”

As the couple argued, flames continued to flicker on the car as the rubber of the windshield wipers had caught fire.

Russ cried out and flicked the wipers on. Erica screamed as flames streaked across the windshield. Russ hit the wiper fluid and the flames were doused.

As they neared her house, one of the dragons unfurled his wings into the night air and soared up over the car. Erica, staring out the rear wndow, started to panic. “Oh, crap! Russ, it took off.”

“Good.”

“No!” Erica smacked him. “Not ‘took off’ as in left. I mean took off! Off!” Her finger pointed up. “Into the air!” She leaned against the passenger window, afraid to roll it down for fear of another fireball.

“Crap. I don’t see it!”

Russ looked in the rearview mirror. “I’m less concerned about the one we can’t see and than the two I can.”

The remaining two continued to run, chasing the car up the street.

Passing her driveway, Erica yelled, “Where are you going!?”

Russel gunned the engine. “You want to get out of the car with them right behind us? I’m going to circle around the block and try to lose them. Hang on!”

Falling behind, the dragons seemed to lose interest.

“I think it’s working.” Erica noted.

The missing dragon who had taken off into the air suddenly dive bombed in front of the car. Whipping his tail, the barbs nearly slammed into the windshield.

“Holy crap!”

And oncoming car swerved and slammed into trashcans on the treelawn.

Russel braved driving even faster, barely able to stay on the road when he rounded the corners.

“Okay. Okay! I think you lost them!”

Zipping around the block, Russel peeled into Erica’s driveway.

Jamming on the brakes, he stopped just shy of bashing into the two car garage. Flinging open the cardoors, Russel and Erica rushed for the front door of the house. Erica already had her keys out and zeroed in on the lock the second she reached the door.

Slamming the front door behind Russel, the dragons raced around the hedgerows just as the kids ducked behind the curtains.

“Oh, shit.” Erica whispered.

“Did they see us?” Russel hushed back.

“No. I don’t think so.”

Outside, the roar from the two remaining dragons was deafening. Withstanding the noise, the bay windows of the house vibrated like a 5.0 quake.

The dragons spotted the car.

Curling back his neck, the dragon spat. A fireball engulfed the vehicle.

Orange dragonfirelight shimmered across the lawn, twinkling stardust up the drapes.

Erica stifled a scream and ran upstairs. She wasn’t sure where she was going or why. All she wanted to do was hide in her bedroom.

Neighbors could be heard shouting outside.

Cars peeled skids down the street when spotting the dragons.

“Where are your mom and dad?”

“They’re at that Max Raabe concert. They won’t be home for another hour or two.”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot.”

Scampering down the hall, Erica reached her bedroom first. Russel was several steps behind her because he had a harder time moving in the the pitch-black house. They weren’t about to turn any lights on and attract the dragons to the windows.

Unlatching her bedroom door, Russel heard Erica shout, “What in the hell!?”

“Erica! Shhhh! They’ll hear you!” Russel scolded.

When he reached her room, he looked in her doorway.

“What in the hell!?” Russel repeated, even louder than Erica had.

Inside, the roof of her bedroom was entirely torn off the house. Nesting on her mattress, her bed was now covered in four dragon eggs.

“Oh, hell no!”

Erica marched over to her closet.

Inside, she had a katana buried in a drawer.

“Erica. What are you doing?”

Grabbing her skateboard, she walked to the edge of her room and shouted at the sky. “Come on! Let’s go!”

Russel hid behind the doorframe, whisper shouting at her. “Erica! Are you crazy!? What are you doing!? Get back here!”

“Nobody fucks up my bedroom,” she growled over her shoulder. “You hear me!” She yelled back at the sky. One of the dragons began to circle.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Spinning around, she jammed her katana into one of the dragon eggs.

The egg shattered and poured red.

“I said, LET’S GO!”

The dragon howled and dove.

As it plummeted towards the house, Erica ran full speed out of the gaping hole in the wall of her room, crashing down to the yard.

“ERICA!”

Falling towards the pool, Erica flipped her skateboard under her feet and landed perfectly on the transition. Whipping around the bowl, she jammed the katana straight up over her head. Blasting a massive air fifteen feet out of the pool, the blade slashed across the neck of the diving dragon.

The creature was dead before it hit the ground.

Erica steezed back into the transition, Miller flipping onto the deck.

Looking to the sky, she awaited the second dragon.

“You’re next.” Erica announced.

The papa dragon looked at his dead mate and the shattered egg as he landed. His eyes narrowed, ready to burn Erica to cinders.

“Hey!” Russel shouted.

He was holding another dragon egg overhead, threatening to smash it in the pool.

The father dragon backed off from Erica and howled.

“Get out of there!” Russel yelled, “Get back to my car!”

“It’s a melted pile of goo. Remember?”

“Then get your car!”

Erica ran to the garage.

The dragon howled again as Russel backed away, still holding the egg.

Running downstairs, he grabbed a kitchen knife and jumped in the car, tossing the egg in Erica’s lap.

“Now what?” Erica asked.

Russel shrugged as he peeled out of the driveway, “I have no idea!”

“Great!”

The dragon was instantly chasing after them as they fled.

Growling and lunging at the car, it didn’t breathe flame. Apparently the dragon was smart enough to understand that killing them would mean the egg gets destroyed.

“It knows we still have the egg.” Russel noted.

“You think!?”

“Toss it!”

“Toss it?”

“Toss it!” Russel pointed at the sunroof. “He’s just going to keep chasing us as long as we have that egg!”

Erica knew he was right.

Opening the sunroof, she threw the egg as high as she could.

Which wasn’t very high.

It bounced back and cracked into the rear windshield, and spun onto the road. “Oh, damnit!”

Stopping in the middle of the road, the dragon picked up the egg.

With one last defiant yell, it turned back to the nest.

Russel visibly relaxed his posture. With a sigh, he said, “It’s gone?”

“It’s gone. Now where do we go? You know it’s going to come back.”

“He won’t come back.”

“I killed his mate. I killed an egg. You threatened an egg. He’ll be back. We need to hide the car before he finds us.”

“Let me get out of the mountains. I’ll head down to the 101. He’ll never find us in traffic. We’ll just be another set of headlights.”

Russel paused. “By the way. Sorry I yelled at you earlier. Killing that dragon? That was pretty badass.”

Erica wanted to stay mad at him, but it was pretty badass. She even impressed herself. “Thanks.” She nuzzled her ass into the seat, proud of being complimented.

They never got anywhere near the highway.

Russel and Erica made it less than a quarter mile before claws slammed into the trunk of the car.

“Russ!”

Russel slammed the brakes, sending the dragon tumbling over the front of the car before it had a chance to lift them into the air. Gunning the engine, he screamed as the car sped up and bashed into the dragon’s head. Dazed, the dragon tumbled down a cliffside, but only fell a few feet before clawing to the stone and pulling itself back up.

Russel raced across the mountain roads in a panic. Rounding a corner on the winding street too fast, sparks showered through the air as the car scraped down the entire side of a guardrail.

Erica screamed, “Russ! Brushfire! Brushfire!”

“Honey, I think the dragon is risking bigger brushfires than I am!”

Erica smiled because that was the first time he called her “honey”.

Another fireball exploded in front of the car. Russ yanked on the wheel. Tires squealed, futilely clawing for grip. The rubber skidded off the asphalt and bit into the gravel.

Russ lost control as the car spun helplessly into the brush.

Erica screamed and braced her arm against the ceiling of the car. Within another two seconds, the prattle of underbrush clanked on the undercarriage as the vehicle precariously dripped over the embankment.

“Hang on!” Russel was jerked back by his seatbelt as he instinctively reached out to grab Erica.

The car tumbled down the mountainside.

The dragon shrieked angrily as his victims rolled into oblivion without bursting into flames.

Russel and Erica screamed as the car slid out of control for ten feet and stopped on a steep ledge.

Erica looked at her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend looked back at her.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad.” Russel chuckled.

Erica laughed. “I thought we were - ” the chaparral in front of the car snapped and the car started rolling nose first down the mountain “ - deeeeeeead!”

“Oh, crap! Oh, crap! Crap! Crap!” Russel grabbed the steering wheel, attempting to guide the car as it slammed and bounced down the cliff. But the drop was too steep and the rocks and dips and brush were knocking the car around too much. There was no hope of steering anywhere.

“Russ! Russ! Russssss!”

Through bouncy headlamp light, Russ saw it too.

A fifty foot drop was dead ahead.

“Ahhhhhhhh!”

The car only fell about ten feet and landed in a treetop.

Opening their eyes, Erica looked at her boyfriend.

“We’re not dead?”

The branches broke and the car dropped another three feet.

“Shit!” Russel yelled. “We have to get out and climb down.”

“No way! You crazy? We can’t possibly do that!”

A fireball streaked across the sky as the dragon circled them like a vulture.

Erica jumped out her door and was beneath the car before Russel even had his seatbelt undone.

“Hey! Wait for me!”

“Get your ass moving!”

Russel barely had any branches on his side. Rolling his eyes, he dashed back to the passenger side and started to climb down where his girlfriend was.

Looking up, she announced, “Russ! He’s comiiiiing!”

The dragon dove for them, spitting fire.

“Climb! Climb!”

The top of the tree burst into flames, swallowing the car.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Flaming embers began to rain down on the couple as the top of the tree slowly crumbled, bringing the torched car with it.

Russ and Erica scrambled even faster down the branches toward the ground. When they finally neared the bottom of the tree, the distance was too far to jump.

Shrieking, the dragon still circled overhead. It seemed intent on seeing bodies before it gave up.

“Damnit. Now what?” Russ asked aloud, even though he thought he was only thinking it.

“Truck.” Erica answered. Aiming herself at the nearest van in the parking lot, she leapt for the roof. She tried her best to tuck and roll, but she was afraid of rolling right off the top. Nevertheless, she landed only slightly bruised.

Russel made the jump. She caught him before he fell over the edge.

Standing stop the truck, they weren’t sure where to go. The parking lot was bizarre. Erica was pretty sure it was the local Ingvar Homes store parking lot, but there were trees and ivy in places where they didn’t belong. In fact, the van she just jumped onto was surrounded by so much overgrowth, it couldn’t have possibly pulled into the parking space where it was sitting.

What was going on?

Chapter Eighteen

As the teachers took attendance, making sure all students and faculty were accounted for, Ms. Horvat began to panic. Mr. Mayock and several of his students were still missing.

“Who is unaccounted for?” Scott asked.

“All the kids who left the school,” said a student named Vicki.

Ms. Horvat went down the checklist. “Paul Knight, Nick Patton, Paul Gerowski, Tony Todaro, Jenneane Petro, Melissa Jorgensen, Linda Elliot, Shelly Blanks, Karen Novak, and their teacher, Mr. Mayock.”

Mr. Electrico spoke to one of the teachers, Mrs. Moose, on the schoolyard and asked her, “So, let me try to understand this. You say the school vanished into a jungle?”

“More than a jungle,” Mrs. Moose explained, “it was almost like... like a different universe. I mean, even constellations were different. I’d never seen anything like them.”

“Were there any dangerous animals or anything in the jungle?” Amanda asked, worried about the kids who had left the school.

“No. We never saw anything.” Mr. Halko explained. “The kids used their wands to keep the whole school fed and warm. But we never saw any animals in the jungles. Mr. Mayock went looking for his students once he found out they were missing. The rest of us stayed in the school. He thought he’d find his way, since the landscape was the same. But none of them ever came back.”

Keith Riggs, the student who freed his teacher, nodded at Superbman, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s true. The place the school vanished into was like Los Angeles. Like, there were still the same mountains and valleys and stuff, but the world was all like a tropical jungle. There were no more roads or houses or buildings or anything. It was like we went back in time.”

The first teacher shook her head, “No. The constellations wouldn’t have been so different in the past. This wasn’t time travel. The school was... someplace else.”

Madame Fabulous looked at the strange terrain and foliage that had rematerialized along with the school and noted, “Yes. And wherever you went, it seems some of that place came back with you.”

Scott and Amanda were fearful of the same thing.

Why did the boy have to wish back “everything” instead “everyone”?

Looking at each other, they knew what each were thinking.

Both of them were afraid to ask.

“Are you sure there were no creatures in the jungles?”

§

Scott and Amanda convinced Mr. Electrico to grab the duffel containing the confiscated magic wands and try and send the jungles back where they came from.

Everytime he tried, not only did he fail to make the jungle vanish, he seemed to only make it worse.

“No. No!” Keith Riggs said, “I think you have to break the wand he used to do this. Paul’s wand, I mean.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Electrico asked.

“We figured out that the wands could change spells, but not totally undo them. Like when our teacher was frozen, we couldn’t dispel the freeze, we had to use a spell to speed him up. But we learned if a wand breaks, it undoes everything it made. Paul’s wand made the school vanish into this world, so the only way to undo it all is to destroy his wand.”

“Does he know about this?”

“Who? Paul? No. We figured it out after they left. The girls and Paul Knight and those guys probably don’t know it.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Pappi!” Maria Sanchez screamed in the Ingvar Homes store as she braced against the display bathroom door being battered by the orc.

“Pappi!”

“I’m coming, cariño! I’m coming!”

The orc battering the door was too stupid to know he could run ten feet down the wall and walk right around the corner to reach Maria.

Unfortunately for Maria, the second orc was a little smarter.

“Pappiiiiii!”

Julio fumbled with a crossbow and raised it to his eye.

Firing, he hit the orc battering the door square in the base of the skull. He fell in a heap.

“Open the door!”

Maria obeyed and opened the door, diving over the body of the dead orc just as the one who had flanked her swung his rusty cleaver at empty air.

Growling with rage, the orc turned his gaze out the doorframe where Maria had escaped.

Julio sunk another crossbow bolt between the monster’s eyes.

“Come on!” Julio yelled to his wife.

Half crying and squealing, she rushed over to her husband.

“Pappi. What are these things!?”

“I don’t know. Stay by me. Let’s get out of here.”

Julio and Maria ran through the sprawling Ingvar Homes showrooms. The gargantuan store had home furnishings and décor of every conceivable style over four stories of entertainment, bathroom, dining, and kitchens. Price tags still hung off the crossbow that Julio snatched from sporting goods to save Maria.

Other customers could be heard running and screaming throughout the store. Orc growls and brutal thuds and shrieks glittered across the air. Hideous sounds of death and carnage mixed inappropriately with the store muzak, still trickling from speakers overhead. Frank Sinatra. Fly Me to the Moon.

- in other words, baby kiss me -

“Down!” Julio grabbed Maria’s shoulder and yanked her behind a stand of area rugs.

An orc down the aisle spun around just after they hid, almost spotting them.

Maria came close to letting out a squeal, but stopped herself.

Another orc jumped out from behind the next row, raising his sword at the couple. Maria shrieked and reached overhead, grabbing the fire extinguisher on the wall. The foam roiled out in a blinding cloud, sending the stunned orc stumbling backwards. His arcing sword swished past Julio and struck the linoleum inches from his feet.

Maria and Julio ran.

The creatures were closing in from all sides. They scurried past housewares and dining room furniture. They ran through bedrooms, bathrooms and beyond.

At the edge of the floor, they found themselves trapped at the top of a balcony with stairs leading down to a towel sale.

Orcs were coming up the stairs.

Others came from behind.

Julio held his wife behind him. He was running out of crossbow bolts and there were too many creatures.

“Come on!” Julio climbed atop the railing.

“What are you doing!?”

As Julio took out his pocketknife, he pointed, “We grab that banner and swing down!”

Maria looked at the twenty foot drop. “Are you crazy!?”

“We have no choice!”

“It’s too far. Too far! I’ll never make it.”

“You’ll make it!”

The orcs were a swordblow away.

“JUMP!”

Maria and Julio both screamed as they flung themselves off the balcony. Reaching out, Julio just barely managed to get a grip on the banner.

Maria missed and fell.

“Maria!”

“Helllllp!”

Maria landed in a bin of towels. “Ooof!”

Enraged orcs growled. The ones that had been running up the staircase were now at the top of the balcony. All of them turned and began to jump back down the stairwell.

Julio couldn’t cut the ties holding the banner. He couldn’t swing down. His hands were slipping.

Maria gathered herself and climbed out of the wheeled towel bin.

The orcs would be there any second.

“Let go!” Maria shouted to Julio. She rolled the bin under him. “Let go!”

Julio fell.

The second he landed in the bin, Maria started to shove it down the aisle. Weaving in and around every corner, she ran as fast as she could.

“Duck down! Duck down!” Julio yelled. He raised the crossbow and fired over her head. The bolt sank into the forehead of the orc who was about to cleave into Maria’s skull.

“Elevator! Elevator!” Julio pointed down the aisle.

Maria nodded, understanding.

Julio continued firing bolts over his wife’s shoulders as she bobbed and weaved to stay out of the way. Orcs were gaining ground.

Each time an orc was almost on top of them, Julio managed to sink another bolt in a shoulder or leg or head. One by one, they fell tumbling in pain or death.

But there were too many of them.

He couldn’t hold them off forever.

“Faster, cariño! Faster!”

When they reached the elevator, Maria slammed the cart into the wall so hard, Julio flew backwards and cracked his head on the stainless steel paneling.

“Oh! Sorry, Pappi!”

“Duck!”

Maria ducked and Julio let one last crossbow bolt loose. An orc two feet from the door fell bowling pins into the three orcs behind him.

Spinning back to the elevator controls, Maria pummeled the ground floor button over and over again. Desperation and fear made her think the doors might shut quicker if she pounded the button in rapid-fire succession. Instead, the elevator doors slowly plinked closed, sealing the horrified couple inside with no sense of urgency whatsoever.

Descending in the womb of the elevator, Julio and Maria were treated to A Summer Place by Henry Mancini.

“You okay, baby?” Julio asked.

Maria nodded. “Yes. Yes. You okay?”

Climbing out of the cart and putting his arm around his frightened wife, Julio nodded. “Yes. I’m fine. I think I may have crapped in those towels though.”

Kissing her forehead, Maria looked at him like he was crazy for joking in a situation like this. But, grateful to be alive, she couldn’t help but smirk a little.

As the car neared the first floor, Julio had his wife stand behind it again. “Here, baby. Get behind it. If there’s any more of those monsters outside, you shove the cart into them.”

“Oh, Pappi. Can’t we just lock ourselves in here until help shows up?”

“You want to stay trapped in here? Who knows when help will - ”

- DING!

Their decision had been made for them.

The elevator doors opened.

Not knowing what an elevator was, the orcs had their back to the doors when they opened.

Without hesitating, Maria jammed the cart into the back of their legs. Their knees buckling, the two orcs were scooped up into the cart before they knew what hit them.

Julio ran out of the elevator as Maria spun the cart and threw the disoriented orcs back inside. Reaching around the corner, she sent them to the top floor, and yanked her arm back out before the doors shut.

On the first floor, orcs were herding customers out the front doors. Julio and Maria tried their best to shimmy behind some clothing racks. If they could get to the employee doors at the back of the store, maybe they could get out to the parking lot without being spotted.

Julio silently motioned to his wife to dash for the sporting goods. Hide behind the tents display. She nodded back, understanding.

Peeking around the corner, he raised his fingers and did a countdown.

3... 2... 1... Go!

Maria ran. Julio followed. Just as he slipped behind the tent display with her, Julio heard an orc growl only an aisle or two over.

It started lumbering towards them.

Damnit!

There must still be others patrolling the back of the store.

“Run!” Julio yelled to Maria.

He let her go first and they fled past the camping equipment. The orc shouted for reinforcements and five more of them started chase.

“Go right! Go right!”

“I thought the back doors were the other way!”

“Just one aisle over!” Julio led them straight to the bicycle displays. “Grab one! Grab a bike!”

Maria did as she was told. They still had another winding three hundred feet to go. Julio was brilliant. Much faster on bikes than on foot.

Maria snatched a ladies mountain bike and was off like a shot down the aisle. As she and Julio raced away, they swiped golfclubs and started knocking over mannequins. Anything to block the aisles and slow the pursuit of the orcs.

Reaching the rear of the store, they scurried with the bicycles and rushed through the storeroom into the parking lot.

Sure enough, the back of the store was abandoned.

Dashing for their car, they got confused.

“What are all these trees?” Julio asked Maria.

Jungle was mixed into the parkinglot. Trees and underbrush surrounded cars the further they got from the building.

When they finally found their car, it was boxed in by oak and vines.

“What happened?” Maria asked.

“I don’t know, baby.”

From the loading dock behind the store, they heard the orcs.

“Down!” Julio motioned.

Crouching in the underbrush, they heard a deafening roar overhead.

Headlights appeared to drop from the cliffside next to the parking lot. The jungle foliage was so thick, it was difficult to be sure. When the lights slammed into the upper branches, a streak of fire poured out of the sky and set the car on fire.

Julio and Maria were paralyzed.

They were so horrified of the orcs, they dared not move. Now this bizarre spectacle of a flaming car plummeting into trees left them agape and frozen in amazement.

While the tree started to burn, a boy and girl began climbing out of it. As the flames grew larger and brighter, the dark began to glow warm orange.

Julio gasped and Maria cried out when they saw a dragon clawing at the treetops.

Chapter Twenty

“Are you sure that’s his car?” Madame Fabulous asked over the radio as she soared above The Magic Mansion.

“I’ve known the man for 10 years. I’m sure.” Mr. Electrico answered from the gunner seat of Amanda’s battlecopter.

“Okay. Here goes.” Madame Fabulous took The Wand and threw it like a spear through the roof of the sedan driven by Nathan “Mr. Magicpants” Reynolds. Piercing the steel, The Wand fired straight through the upholstery and buried itself a quarter-inch into the asphalt beneath the car.

Madame Fabulous tapped her earpiece and reported to the rest of Die Héterin Liga, “Package delivered.”

“Roger. Copy that.” Amanda repeated, “The Wand is delivered. Dropping off Mr. Electrico now. Remember boys and girls, we just have to find the kids and destroy the wands as fast as we can. Worst case, we hold off the creatures until sunrise. Then, hopefully Mr. Magicpants can help put an end to this.”

Mr. Electrico gave a thumbs-up to Amanda as she flew away. He waited in the parking lot at the Magic Mansion for Mr. Magicpants to arrive.

“See you ladies at sunrise.” Scott responded.

“Good luck.” Superbman saluted.

With that, Superbman and Scott headed off to find the missing boys.

Madame Fabulous and Amanda went in search of the missing girls.

§

Having talked to the other kids and teachers in school, Amanda and Scott were able to get the cellphone numbers of Mr. Mayock and the children who were still missing. None of them were answering their phones, but the computer systems in the battlecopter and the mecharmor were able to triangulate their locations. The girls appeared to be in the Santa Monica mountains, somewhere near the Stone Canyon reservoir. The boys and Mr. Mayock were way over on the other side of the San Gabriel mountains, close to the Devil’s Punch Bowl.

How the heck did they get way over there? On foot?

“I’m picking up some strange readings.” Amanda flicked the monitor.

“More demons?” Madame Fabulous asked.

“No. But I kind of wish they were.”

“What? Why?”

“Because these things are a lot bigger. And there’s a lot more of them.”

§

As he walked out of the Magic Mansion into the parking lot, Mr. Magicpants found the hood of his car occupied by Mr. Electrico.

“Mr. Electrico! To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, good sir?” Mr. Magicpants grinned as only theatrically-trained people and young children can.

Mr. Electrico motioned to The Wand, protruding from the roof of the car and Mr. Magicpants freaked out, “What the hell!? Aw, dude! Did you - ? What did you do that for!? Hey. Wait. I thought you gave that thing away days ago.”

Mr. Electrico jerked a thumb at the damaged car. “What? I did! I did. No, no, man. I didn’t do this. The last owner of The Wand did it. Look, don’t worry about it. You can repair the car. Heck, you can conjure 10 new cars. Whatever.”

“Wait. You saying it’s mine now?”

“Sure is. Bequeathed to a stranger.”

Mr. Magicpants shook his head, “Oh, no, dude. No, no, no, no. I don’t know if - I mean, I don’t think I want that kind of responsibility. You know?”

“Sorry, man.” Mr. Electrico shrugged. “Too late now. It’s yours.”

Mr. Magicpants gasped as he reached out to touch The Wand, gradually understanding the full implications of what Mr. Electrico was telling him.

Rubbing his chin, Mr. Magicpants squinted sidelong at his old friend. “I don’t get it. I thought it had to be anonymous. How did you know who the next owner was? Why did he give it to me?”

“She.”

“Huh?”

“She. Last owner was a she. She was a nun. But, now she’s a superhero.” Mr. Electrico squinted and quavered the blade of his palm. “Nevermind. Nevermind. Not important.”

“Superhero? Okay, but why did she give The Wand to me?”

“It’s a long story. But we need your help.”

“We? ‘We’ who? What’s going on?”

“Come on. I’ll drive you home and explain it all on the way.”

“Dude, I want to fix my car.”

“The Wand isn’t going to work for you until sunrise. And we need to lay low until then.”

“Lay low? How come?”

“Grab The Wand. Let’s get out of here. I’ll tell you that whole story.”

§

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Amanda groaned, “Are you seeing this?”

“I got them.” Madame Fabulous radioed back.

Below, two women were trapped in a car being ripped in half between a pair of angry giganotosauruses.

Madame Fabulous telekinetically opened the doors and pulled the women out of the car.

Mrs. McCreadle and her daughter screamed at the top of their lungs, completely confused by why they were suddenly levitating in front of two prehistoric reptiles.

The dinosaurs looked equally perplexed.

They seemed uncertain if they should drop the car and try to devour the ladies. Or should they just keep trying to eat glass and steel?

Before their miniscule brains could finish that thought, the trunk and hood of the car ripped from their mouths, tore off the hinges, and sliced the dinosaurs necks like razors.

They died just as the screaming Mrs. McCreadle and her daughter were gently placed safely back on the ground.

§

“That doesn’t look fair.” Scott observed. Below in the darkness, orcs in an Ingvar Homes parking lot chased after a couple on bicycles.

“I’ll take the dragon.” Superbman volunteered.

“What drag - ?” Flames blasted past Scott in the cockpit of the mech. “Oh. That dragon.”

Orcs in the parking lot looked at the treeline and forgot all about pursuing the couple into the woods. Shouting back towards the other end of the lot, orc archers loosed a volley of arrows at the dragon.

When the arrows sizzled past the dragons head, it turned towards the attacking orcs, and a flame like napalm splattered across the field. Orcs burst into fire and screamed gruesome noises of anguish. At the far end of the field, orcs wheeled a ballista around towards the winged beast.

Scott dove, firing Gatling cannon blasts at the orcs who scattered and ran back towards the road.

Across the field, an orc commander dropped his arm and the telephonepole-sized ballista spear rocketed through the dark and fired clear over the shoulder of the dragon.

Distracted by orcs, the dragon didn’t see Superbman come up behind him and grab him by the tail. Superbman swung the dragon like a ragdoll and hurled the helpless beast into the remaining orc armies.

Flames burst from the dragon as his corpse smashed into the parking lot and exploded.

Julio and Maria stood at the edge of the treeline in shock.

Erica and Russel walked up next to them, equally astounded.

The two couples watched a parking lot of burning dragons and orcs as the glow of mech engines and a superhero cape vanished in the night sky.

§

“They should be just up ahead.” Amanda told Madame Fabulous.

“Um. That’s not supposed to be there, is it?” Madame Fabulous replied over the radio.

Atop a peak in the Santa Monica mountains towered a giant pyramid of a reddish and beige stone. Strange glyphs and carvings were etched into every crevice and face and angle of the tan rock. Bizarre images of tentacled beasts and alien features and monstrous creatures. The structure towered ten stories over the mountain upon which it had grown.

“According to these readings, I think the girls are inside that thing.”

“Looks like a lost Aztec temple.”

“Yeah. That’s weird.”

“Not as weird as those.” Madame Fabulous pointed.

Amanda looked out the cockpit to a launchbay door opening in the side of the lost Aztec temple. Out flew a ship, no bigger than a car. Patrolling the surrounding canyons were two dozen silver saucer ships just like it. Amanda realized that was what her surveillance systems had been reading. Before she had the chance to comment to Madame Fabulous, another signal broke into their frequency.

“Attention Earthlings! You have invaded Martian airspace. This is considered an act of war. You will be shot down immediately.”

“What the hell?” Amanda muttered.

“Not much for diplomacy, are they?” Madame Fabulous observed.

Amanda radioed back. “Martian airspace? Hey, listen, I don’t know what alternate reality you come from, but you’re on the planet earth. You are the ones invading our - ”

Blue light swirled around the edge of the approaching saucers and fired in a burst like a giant sparkler.

Amanda cranked on the joystick and banked out of the way, the energy bolt passing so close to her cockpit, she could feel the heat.

“You rotten little...”

Another pair of saucers spun into formation for the attack.

“Amanda!” Madame Fabulous rushed to her aid, but before she could reach her, another set of saucers converged from behind.

Blue sparkler energy slammed into Madame Fabulous at the base of her neck. Her body plummeted from the sky, tumbling into a ravine among the chaparral.

Amanda never saw Madame Fabulous get hit. Spinning to avoid the next wave, Amanda dove her battlecopter into a valley and hugged the walls towards the Los Angeles basin.

Weaving side to side and over outcroppings, deadly blue blasted all around her.

“Damnit!”

Knowing she was endangering too many people with brushfires, she climbed. As she pushed the battlecopter near vertical, the saucers stayed on her tail.

“Madame! A little assistance? I can’t shake these guys.”

No response.

“Madame Fabulous? Do you copy?”

Nothing.

Amanda realized she was on her own.

“Great. Well, if you get this message, I could use a hand. Whoa!”

Sparks rained on her cockpit from the last blast. It was so close, the battlecopter spun on its axis.

“Fine. Let’s see you follow this.”

Amanda deliberately cut her thrust and flipped into a loop, sending the battlecopter back into the saucers in a deadly uncontrolled tumble.

They zipped out of the way, nearly getting smashed by the plummeting machine.

Amanda giggled.

She fired off three smart rockets as the battlecopter tumbled past, nailing two of the three saucers chasing her. Exploding in fireballs of green, their saucers streaked into Beverly Hills where they disintegrated on mansion lawns.

Just before she was about to hit the ground, Amanda reengaged the stabilizers and the battlecopter smoothly twirled out of the fumbling spin and righted itself.

The third saucer came barreling down on her.

Radar indicated another half a dozen launching in pursuit.

“Crap.”

Amanda gunned her ship towards the ocean, pushing the blades and auxiliary rockets as fast as she could.

The saucers streaked silver smears across the sky after her.

Checking her readout, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do. They were gaining on her and there were too many of them.

A fogbank was rolling in as she reached the coastline and rocketed over Santa Monica pier.

Amanda smiled.

Disappearing into the thick gray, she dropped to the ocean surface and skimmed inches above the water. Punching the controls, the cockpit launched out of the copter. Wings deployed from the bullet-shaped pod and Amanda dove into the ocean, sinking into the depths of the Santa Monica submarine canyon.

Heads up holographic displays showed the pursuing saucers zing overhead and continued to chase after the remote body of the battlecopter.

Amanda strategically slowed the battlecopter cockpit and waited until her enemies passed. With a punch to her throttle bar, Amanda blasted up out of the ocean in a geyser of seafoam.

Three drones launched from compartments in the battlecopter while Amanda snuck up from behind. Martians blasted at the battlecopter, not noticing the tiny drones that detached to flank them. The battlecopter evaded as the drones strafed the lead saucers. Disoriented by the surprise attack, three of the head ships collided and ripped themselves apart.

Amanda cranked on the 50-cal and devastated the nearest saucer who didn’t even know she was there.

As the Martians suddenly realized they had acquired multiple targets, they attempted to break off pursuit and engage. The ocean sky became filled with blue sparking light. One blast hit a drone and sent it spiraling into the sea.

Arching in a parabolic curve, Amanda dove up and backwards into an inverted attack. Bombarding a saucer from above, it lost control and flipped, blue laser blasts fizzed in a chaotic spray, shooting down another of his own ships.

The remote body of the battlecopter growled out of the fog and stood steadfast like a bull set to charge. Launching another volley of smartmissles, the final two saucers were blown from the sky.

Assessing the air, Amanda paused and looked around.

All clear.

Nothing but green flashes of light falling deep into the waters off of Malibu.

The drones and the cockpit reassembled into the single battlecopter formation. As Amanda slowly realized she had never heard any communication back from her partner, she rushed back to the mountains to find Madame Fabulous.

§

Madame Fabulous shook herself awake at the bottom of the ravine.

Rubbing her neck, she stiffened as she tried to stand.

A wince crinkled her face.

Looking at the sky, she clenched fists and teeth. “Okay. Let’s see you try that again.”

Firing up out of the valley, she instantly soared a hundred feet over the Aztec temple. Twirling fast and checking the sky in every direction so the Martians can’t sucker punch her again, she zeroed in on a small squadron.

Four patrol ships continued roaming the perimeter.

Reaching out her hand, she telekinetically grabbed all four ships and slammed them into each other, sending a massive green fireball pouring out of the sky.

Instead of hitting the ground and risking igniting the surrounding homes, Madame Fabulous suspended the explosion in midair and hurled it through the open launch bay doors of the ziggurat.

Smirking to herself, she looked up just in time to see Amanda coming over the mountain.

“You okay?” Amanda radioed.

“Yeah. I’m good. You?”

“Check. I’m cool.” Amanda grinned, loving every moment of getting to be a superhero.

Madame Fabulous pointed to a valley of jungle brush on the far side of the temple. “Meet me down there. I have a plan.”

§

“We have to lay low because the city is filled with monsters? Great.” Mr. Magicpants unlocked his apartment door and invited Mr. Electrico inside.

“Seems to be part of the world the kids brought back with them.”

“You say the kids from the elementary school did all of this?”

“Yeah.”

“Crazy. So, you don’t think The Wand can undo the magic of making the kids wands real, but if I can change them into something else, it will undo the spell that this Paul kid cast and everything will go back to normal?”

Mr. Electrico took a seat on the couch. “You got it.”

Mr. Magicpants agreed. “I hope that works.”

“Me too. Demetria seems to think it will. I ran all of this by her and she agreed. Although, she admitted herself, she couldn’t be sure how the magic will function.”

“Who’s Demetria?”

“Oh.” Mr. Electrico rubbed his chin with a nervous chuckle. Contemplating the explanation for a second, he shook it off by saying, “Long story. I’ll tell you later. What matters now is getting this plan in motion.”

“Well, if the magic from The Wand is permanent, what makes you think the magic from wands made by The Wand isn’t permanent too?”

“One of the boys from the school told us. He said they figured out magic from the small wands would vanish if their wands were broken. If you use The Wand to turn all the little wands into pretzel sticks or something, hopefully all the spells they cast will be wiped out.”

“Wait. I’m confused. If your friends are tracking the kids location with their cellphones and all the kids need to do is break their wands, why don’t your friends just call the kids and tell them to do that?”

“Try your phone.”

Without questioning, Mr. Magicpants pulled out his cellphone. No signal. “That’s weird. My reception is great here.”

“When the landscape changed, apparently it made lots of cellphone towers vanish or get damaged. They are trying to call the kids, but no calls seem to be going through. We are hoping to do exactly what you just said. Scott and Amanda and the superheroes are hoping to reach them on their phones. But if all else fails, it’s up to you to try and wipe out the magic wands from a distance.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Pull them out of a hat. Yank them out from behind my ear. You’re the magician. Get creative.”

“Why couldn’t Madame Fabulous do this? If The Wand is hers until sunrise.”

“She’s a superhero. What power could let her retrieve the wands? Remember the rules? Only use it in your profession. As a magician, you can make things appear out of nowhere. That’s why we needed another professional magician. Not a makeup artist or a superhero. You’re the only one who can do this, man.”

§

“I don’t know what is happening here.” Scott rubbed his chin as he stared into the mech readout.

“Talk to me.” Superbman’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Well,” Scott elaborated, “their movement pattern is strange.”

“How so?”

“According to the GPS and cellphone triangulation, they seem to be pausing for a moment. Then they travel almost a quarter mile in a few seconds. Pause. Move. Pause. Move.”

“Maybe the GPS is off.”

“No, it’s on.”

“I mean ‘off’ as in inaccurate. Some glitch somewhere. False reading.”

“Maybe.” Scott didn’t believe that for a second, but conceded for the sake of argument.

The two had been tracking the young boy’s cellphone signals out into the Antelope Valley and beyond that, the Mojave Desert. Once they cleared the width swath of the towering San Bernadino mountains and left the Los Angeles Basin, the dark around Los Angeles engulfed them.

From the air, the lights of Los Angeles were and endless dust of stars, framed by the vast blackness of the Mojave Desert and the Pacific Ocean. After you swam clear of the dazzle of the city in any direction, the black never seemed to end. Obsidian night stretched as far as the eye could see. Horizon to heavens, the very light of the world disappeared.

“Um. I think I know why.” Superbman, with his superb sight, could see further into that desert night than Scott could see, even with his infrared military satellite feeds.

Scott must have been hearing things because Superbman almost sounded scared.

“What do you see?” Scott asked.

Superbman didn’t answer.

On screen, Scott saw something that didn’t make any sense.

“What in the hell is that!?”

In the blinding night, something shambled across the landscape.

The desert itself seemed to move. The mountains distant. The nearby plains. An entire swath of the very earth come to life.

Striding across the landscape was a creature the likes of which was beyond anything the men could have possibly imagined. Taller than the very mountains themselves, it lumbered with footfalls so massive, it covered miles in only a few steps. In the deep dark of the open high desert, it was difficult to judge the size or even the exact shape or color of the beast. The echo of every step seemed the source of all hate in the world; a horrific sound which reverberated malice into the heart of mankind.

“Kroni.” Superbman whispered.

“What?”

“Kroni. Known as the manifestation of evil itself from Eastern mythology. It was said to be a beast with a multitude of limbs the size of mountainranges.”

“Eastern mythology, huh? Well, whatever it is, it doesn’t look too mythical to me.”

“The kids must be on that thing.”

“Let’s hope they’re on it and not in it.”

Both of them shuddered.

Were the boys still alive?

Why didn’t they use their magic wands to fight this creature off? To escape from it? Did this horrible thing eat the boys?

“You realize we can’t possibly kill that thing.”

Scott shivered in realizing how helpless they were to fight this beast. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Why don’t you let me look for them? I can be dead silent. Hopefully it won’t see or hear me. You just track me and tell me where to go.”

Scott agreed. “Okay. Good idea. I’ll maintain an altitude above you and tell you where the boys are at.”

Superbman dove towards the monster as Scott climbed.

The hide of the creature was as solid as the granite of Southern California mountains themselves. Superbman imagined the spine of the mountain ranges were actually more of these dormant beasts, horribly ancient and waiting in the desert sands for aeons. Waiting for something to awaken them.

He remembered there were old Native American legends about the very lands being haunted. Of the earth being something soiled by evils older than the world. Then again, maybe he was wrong. Maybe there were no such legends. Maybe his imagination couldn’t help but play tricks in the face of something so nightmarish and impossible.

“Hey. Did you hear me?” Scott’s voice came over the comlink.

“Huh?” Superbman shook his head free of the daydreaming. “Sorry. What?”

“I said head forward about a hundred feet and down to your right another fifty.”

In a rocky cave, pitted into the grip of the Kroni, there fluttered a wisp of fabric from a jacket.

“I see them!” Superbman soared down and hovered near the hand of the gargantuan creature. The kids were still alive. They were being carried in the grip of this massive beast.

Looking up, the children saw Superbman approach.

“Superbman!?” Tony stammered.

“See!” Nick smacked the arms of the other boys. “See!? I told you he was real! I told you he was on the news and the Internet and stuff!”

“Boys. Mr. Mayock. I’ve been searching for you. We’re here to rescue you home.” Superbman nodded.

All five of them, including their teacher, shuddered and laughed with relief. They had obviously been traumatized and were speechless with gratitude.

“Are any of you injured?”

They shook their heads.

“No.”

“No, we’re okay.”

“Yeah. We’re all alright.”

Superbman explained. “Good. Now listen. I need you boys to destroy your wands. The magic wands you got on your fieldtrip. We have reason to believe if the wands are destroyed, all of this strange magic will vanish.”

“We can’t. We don’t have our wands anymore.”

Superbman was taken aback, not expecting that. “Don’t have them? Where are they? Did you lose them?”

The boys looked rather embarrassed. Mr. Mayock, casting disapproving looks at the boys, explained, “Apparently, before I found the boys, they got into a big fight with some of the girls in their class. The girls disarmed them and took their wands. Right, boys?”

Superbman lolled his head.

“Fantastic. Scott, you hear all that?”

“Copy, Superbman. I heard it all.”

No longer able to remedy the situation by simply destroying the wands, Superbman came up with another idea. “Okay. Here is the new plan. My friend is flying in a mech, several hundred feet above us. We don’t know how easily this creature might see or hear us. Rather than risk being spotted, I’ll fly you up to him, one at a time. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, nervous and uncertain.

As Superbman reached out his hand, the boys and their teacher suddenly pulled away, the entire moving mountain, ripping back into the darkness.

“THIS CREATURE HEARS YOU WELL.”

Superbman was momentarily stunned and tumbled back. The voice reverberated so deep, so loud, it felt like it was coming from inside Superbman’s chest.

The boys and their teacher began screaming, realizing the creature actually had them more firmly in its grasp than they realized.

“So much for sneaking them away quietly.” Scott’s voice came over the radio.

Scott rocketed down towards the kids, but as he approached, the creature swung at the mech with its other arm; an entire mountainrage hurtling through the pitch black sky.

“Great.” Superbman frowned. “Now what? Like you said, we can’t kill this thing.”

“I AM DEATH.”

Scott was knocked back in his seat by the power of the voice.

Wincing as he pulled his head away from the backrest, Scott said, “Fine, Mr. Death. I’m still taking those kids back!”

Peeling a spiral from the opposite flank of the creature, Scott honed in on the boys. But as he approached, the creature swung his hand miles across the sky away from Scott.

Firing past pupils the size of lakes, Scott gazed into eyes of nothing.

Through gritted teeth, he radioed, “I don’t think it can hear me. Just you. Right big creature of death? Whatever you are?”

No response.

“Superbman. I have an idea. Make sure the kids are safe. Stay near them.”

“What are you planning on doing?”

“Something stupid.”

Scott rocketed in front of the creature and targeted four high yield missiles at the eyes of the beast. Streaking in arcs of grey smoke, the armaments hooked into the monster and exploded.

The creature lurched up on its haunches and let out a wail of pain like a hundred volcanoes erupting at once. Dropping the children, the screaming kids and their teacher spiraled to the earth.

Superbman couldn’t catch all of them. He turned to the rocky hide of the living mountain. With his laser vision, he quickly cut a slab of stone wide enough to hold all of them before they hit the ground.

Diving underneath the boys, he slowly raised the platform and eased their descent.

As they clung to the rock, they huddled together, still scared to death.

“He caught us. He caught us!”

“Thank you, Superbman!”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“I need to retire. I’m done with teaching.” Mr. Mayock announced, laying on his back across the stone.

“You were right. That was stupid!” Superbman chided.

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it? The monster set them free.”

Scott and Superbman regrouped as the beast continued to wail and shout, blinded.

Scott flew to the edge of the rock and opened a cargo hatch.

“Hurry. Climb in!” Superbman instructed.

The kids and their teacher did as they were told. They all boarded the mech and strapped themselves in. When the last of them were free from the rock, Superbman tossed the giant stone to the desert floor. Giant to him and the kids, but no more than a dandruff flake to the beast.

Suddenly, the cries of the mountain demon stopped.

Just behind the creatures destroyed eyes, cracks formed in the stone.

A second set of lake-swallowing pupils sprang open.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Scott sighed.

Enraged, the evil eyes narrowed to slits and the beast turned around to chase after the superheroes. Each violent step in its furious charge reverberated tremors throughout the Mojave and the Antelope Valley.

“It’s chasing us!” Superbman warned.

“Yeah, I can see that!”

“We can’t lead it back to Los Angeles. That thing is twice the size of Burbank! It would wipe out the city in half a dozen steps. We have to keep leading it out deeper into the open desert.”

Scott groaned, “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

§

“Oh, my gosh! It’s working! It’s working!” Melissa waved her friends over to her as she sat on the side of the massive ziggurat which was the Aztec Temple of Mars.

“You get your mom?” Linda asked.

“Hang on. It’s still ringing.” Melissa explained. “Come on, mom. Pick up the - Mom!?”

The other girls squealed with excitement.

“Mom! I’m so glad it’s you!... Yes, of course it’s really me, mom!...” Melissa started crying. “I don’t know! I don’t know where we were, mom. I can’t explain it. But we’re back now... I love you too!... I missed you too!... We’re up - I don’t know - we’re up the side of a mountain somewhere. I don’t know exactly. It looks like we’re close to like Coldwater and Mulholland or something... We? It’s Linda and Karen and Jenneane. They’re all with me too... Yeah, we’re safe. Some weird, like alien things took our - oh, nevermind. Can you come pick us - hello? Hello?”

The girls looked upset. Melissa didn’t even need to say it.

“Damnit! I lost her! I was just going to tell her to pick us up!”

“Call her back!” Karen chided.

“Duh.” Melissa had already hit the speed dial.

No bars.

“Crap! I have no signal again!”

§

“No way!” Amanda, crouched in the jungles next to a backyard fence, scolded Madame Fabulous. “You want us to get captured!? That’s your grand plan?”

“Yeah. It’s a sure way to get inside the pyramid and be led to the girls. We won’t have to search for them.”

“Lead to the girls? Screw that! First of all, why are you presuming they’d capture us instead of kill us? We just wiped out like twenty of their pilots. And second, how do we know the girls are even alive? You assume they’re prisoners? Why? I’m just tracking their cellphone signals. That means their phone is working. It doesn’t mean they’re still alive. Maybe the aliens killed them and took their phones.”

The readout panel on Amanda’s wrist flashed.

“What the hell?”

Melissa’s call to her mother patched in. Amanda’s eyes flared.

“What?” Madame Fabulous asked. “What is it?”

Amanda punched the controls and sent the call over the headset so Madame Fabulous could hear it too.

“Jeezus! They’re probably right on the other side of the temple! Can you call her? Try to call her!”

Amanda tried, but once Melissa’s call to her mother got cut, so did Amanda’s feed. While she was fiddling with reestablishing the connection, Madame Fabulous tapped her on the shoulder. “Uh. Amanda?”

Looking up over the ridge, Amanda saw three laser guns pointed at her head and almond eyed Martians staring at them.

“Who are you? What business do you have here? Come on out of there.” The Martian soldier demanded in perfect English.

Amanda was scared that the Martians would kill them on sight, but she suddenly realized they had no reason to know she and Madame Fabulous were the people their pilots just fought in the air. For all they knew, Madame Fabulous was dead and earthlings probably all look the same to them anyway.

Amanda and Madame Fabulous raised their hands in surrender.

Obeying their orders, they walked out onto the road by the aliens.

“Uh,” Amanda stammered, “We’re just looking for...”

“We’re looking for friends of ours.” Madame Fabulous explained, nodding at Amanda.

On cue, Melissa and her friends came walking down the street.

Having seen photographs of them, Madame Fabulous and Amanda recognized the fours girls. Obviously, the girls had no idea who Amanda and Madame Fabulous were.

Seeing the aliens, the girls rolled their eyes.

“Not these guys again.” Linda whined with a tone that far more aggravated than frightened.

“That’s them!” Madame Fabulous pointed. “Melissa! Linda! Girls! We’ve been looking for you! We were sent from Treasure Trail Elementary.”

Turning to the girls, the aliens asked, “You know these ladies?”

The girls had no idea who Amanda and Madame Fabulous were, but it didn’t matter. The girls didn’t like seeing anyone getting hassled by the Martians.

“Yes!” Jenneane lied, “They’re with us.”

The aliens turned back to the heroes and asked, “Have you any contraband?”

The third of the aliens waved a scanning device over the body of Amanda and Madame Fabulous. Whatever it was seeking, it didn’t detect it on the girls.

Lowering their guns, the aliens waved them all away, “Fine. Stay clear of this area around the fortress.”

“Yes, sir.” Melissa saluted.

Rushing the girls back to the battlecopter, Amanda asked, “What was that all about?”

Melissa explained, “What? Oh, the aliens? We ran into them earlier. They took our - ”

Linda elbowed her ribs.

Jenneane stopped. “Hold on. Who are you guys!?”

Karen finally spoke up and said, “Yeah. Who are you? How did you know what school we go to?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Madame Fabulous reached out her hand, “I’m Madame Fabulous. Please to meet you.”

“That’s a cartoon.” Karen scoffed.

“Yeah, why are you dressed like that?” Jenneane wondered.

“Comic book, actually. Not cartoon.” Madame Fabulous corrected.

Flying ten feet into the air and hovering, Madame Fabulous added, “And I’m not a comic book anymore. I’m very real.”

“Whoa!”

“No way!”

“Oh my gosh!”

“How are you doing that!?”

“Girls? Girls!” Amanda yelled.

“Huh?” Linda replied absently.

Madame Fabulous came back to the ground.

“Where are your wands?” Amanda asked tersely, not interested in small talk. Mesmerized by Madame Fabulous, they didn’t hear Amanda at all.

“How did you do that?”

“Is it the costume?”

“That was amazing!”

“Can you do it again?”

“Can you make me fly too? Or pick me up! Can you pick me up and fly me around?”

“Girls!” Madame Fabulous scolded. “Amanda is asking you a question. About the wands.”

“Wait. Where are we going? The road is that way. I’m not climbing down there.” Melissa hesitated, gazing down the ravine where the battlecopter was hidden.

Everyone stopped walking and stood at the edge of the small clearing at the side of the road.

Amanda lost it. “Listen to me! Where the hell are the magic wands you got from the Magic Mansion fieldtrip?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Nevermind how I know! Hand them over. Right now!” Amanda stuck out her hand.

“We don’t have them!” Linda barked back.

“Don’t have them!? What did you do with them?”

“Those aliens took them!” Melissa explained, then glared at Linda. “I tried to tell you that earlier.”

“You’re going to get us in trouble.” Linda gritted.

“Whoa. Hold on. All your wands are inside the pyramid!?” Amanda squealed.

“The boys too.” Melissa added.

“What are you talking about? What boys are in the pyramid?” Amanda combed fingers through her hair.

“Boys we go to school with. Paul and Nick and Tony. They’re not in the pyramid. Their wands are. The Martians took their wands too.”

Madame Fabulous squinted. “How did the Martians get their wands?”

“We got them.”

“Excuse me?” Amanda was just as confused as Madame Fabulous.

“We kicked their butts and stole their wands.” Melissa said a little too proudly.

Linda, still afraid they’d get in trouble, clarified. “But only because Paul was trying to kill us!”

Madame Fabulous sat on a boulder and rubbed her face. “Ladies, listen to me. The wands are what made all this crazy stuff start to happen. We need to destroy them to make all of this go away. Now tell us exactly what happened.”

§

“Say that again.” Scott demanded, rubbing his face.

Retreating over Nevada, the mech flew on autopilot as Scott talked to the boys in the cargo hold.

“We fought with the girls. We made all this stuff.” Paul admitted. He looked queasy with guilt. All the boys did. They were terrified at the implications of their confession. This was far worse than not cleaning their bedroom or failing to take out the garbage. They had destroyed major portions of the entire city. People may have been injured or even killed, thanks to the monsters they created.

But they also knew the girls would rat them out, so they were going to tell their side before the girls made it look like it was all their fault.

“But the girls started it!” Tony added.

“Yeah!” Nick confirmed. “See, first it was just yelling and screaming at each other. They wanted to go to the ocean to see if there was a border out of this world we got sucked into. We wanted to go to the mountains for the same reason. Then everyone got all mad and started swinging punches and stuff.”

Paul tried to justify it and added, “Yeah! But then they made the dinosaurs appear and chase after us.”

“Dinosaurs?” Scott asked. He smirked at the thought. A few days ago, he would have expected such a statement to be a fiction invented by a boy in preschool. Now he was listening to the story from a kid in junior high and he had no doubt the boy was telling the truth. Funny how much life can change in a few days.

“Yeah, so we fought back and made Martians in a big base up on the mountain.” Tony explained. “Then the girls fought back making dragons. We made zombies. The girls made that giant kaiju chasing us in the desert. We made orcs.”

“Jeez! What were you thinking?” Scott noted.

“Couldn’t you have just stopped fighting? You were both trying to accomplish the same thing! Both trying to get home.” Mr. Mayock observed.

“I tried to tell them that!” Nick defended.

“You did not!” Paul yelled.

“Did so!”

“Okay. Okay! That’s enough!” Scott wondered, “So how did they get your wands?”

Humiliated again, Paul finally admitted, “Stole them when we were asleep.”

“Yeah. Totally cheated!” Tony whined.

“How did they manage that?”

“They snuck into our camp totally invisible. We didn’t even know they were there. Then they woke us up and started laughing at us once the wands were all gone.” Paul groaned.

“I found them the next day.” Mr. Mayock explained. “I never caught up with them until after all this insanity happened.”

“Well, that’s quite a story.” Scott observed. “Sorry I missed it.”

Scott climbed back to the cockpit, ready to radio Amanda and tell her the girls have all the magic wands.

§

As the sun rose, Mr. Magicpants waved The Wand over his magician’s hat. Like all the previous owners before him, he was mesmerized by the green light. Even though he had witnessed it before with Mr. Electrico, there was something far more breathtaking about wielding that power yourself.

One by one, he plucked the Magic Mansion gift wands out of the hat.

He snapped each one over his knee as they came out.

Mr. Electrico stared out the window at the jungle growth sporadically snaking through the neighborhood. “I think it’s working!”

With snapping one wand, the zombies vanished.

With another, the dragons disappeared.

Destroying the next wand, made the Martians fade away.

Slowly, all the crazy transformations were restored back to normal. Bit by bit, piece by piece, Mr. Magicpants made the jungles and Aztec temples and mythological monsters evaporate like morning mist. When the final wand was broken in half, he turned his tophat into an incinerator and dropped the shattered wands back in. Destroyed forever.

“You did it!”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have known what to do without your help!”

§

“They did it!” Madame Fabulous radioed to Amanda.

Cheers erupted on the battle copter as the girls and Amanda watched the entire city start to return to normal beneath them.

Amanda breathed a sigh of relief.

The plan had been to deliver the girls safely home, then return to infiltrate the lost Aztec temple of Mars and retrieve the magic wands.

They wouldn’t need to mount their invasion now.

The temple had vanished, along with any evidence it had ever existed.

§

Just east of Death Valley Road, the mighty Kroni stumbled. Falling face first into the sands of the desert, it faded into nothing but mountains again.

Superbman stopped fleeing.

Scott halted the mech.

Turning to look at the monster, they didn’t speak a word. The two heroes just paused and slowly began to laugh as the sun rose over the desert.

“What happened?” Mr. Mayock asked, “Why did we stop? Is that thing still after us?”

“We’re safe, Mr. Mayock.” Scott announced.

Opening the combat shields over the cargo area, so the boys and their teacher could read the sky, Scott asked them, “Any of you ever see the sunrise in the desert?”

The sky glowed with the campfire orange of a new day. Pastel blues gave way to rich depths of azures and turquoises. Far below, the desolation of desert sands were a welcoming and rippling dazzle of a golden sea.

The long night was at an end.

“Come on, kids. Let’s get you boys home.” Superbman soared over the desert sunrise, headed for Hollywood.

§

Mr. Electrico rushed to his telephone and answered halfway into the second ring.

Mr. Magicpants only heard one side of the conversation.

“Hello!?... Hey, Superbman! Well? What hap -... Oh?... Oh, that’s great! What a relief!... Over here? Sure! Sure! We’ll be here... Yes, he’s still here... I will... Okay. Sounds good... See you soon... Goodbye.”

“Well?” Mr. Magicpants asked as the phone chortled back into the receiver.

“It worked!” Mr. Electrico beamed. He was so thrilled, he skipped across his livingroom like a little kid. “Everything is back to normal and all the kids are safe.”

“Oh, that’s great!”

Smiling with a theatre actor hand flourish as the magicians seemed so fond of doing, Mr. Electrico announced dramatically, “I was to pass on the official congratulations from Die Héterin Liga and tell you that they will all be here to thank you, in person, in just a few minutes.”

§

Mr. Magicpants pointed The Wand at the sand and dug a deep trench.

Just before he was about to drop The Wand into the crevice, he realized that he had no magical way to refill the hole.

He grumbled.

“Stupid. What was... Not thinking. What’s what.”

Changing his mind, he decided to bury The Wand in a far more shallow grave.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he patted the last handful of cool beachsand over The Wand.

Three days had passed.

He never used The Wand again.

He decided it was too dangerous to keep letting it recycle through the world. If Superbman couldn’t destroy it, Mr. Magicpants figured he could at least hide it. Tuck it away someplace where someone could find it, so as not to break the final rule, but just make it so difficult to find, it can remain hidden forever. After all, it just says it must be bequeathed. It doesn’t specify how long it has to be before said bequeathee discovers The Wand. Right?

He hoped that would work.

Glancing over his shoulder, near the treeline, nestled the magicians vanishing box, which would get him back home. Taking one last look around at the glorious vista of the unknown South Pacific isle, he stepped inside. The magical phonebooth-sized structure collapsed in a poof of theatrical smoke, leaving not a trace on the tropical beach.

§

As he went to bed that night, Mr. Magicpants couldn’t help but think he had made a mistake.

He suddenly remembered seeing a show on television about crystal caves in Mexico. The Cave of the Crystals in Naica, Mexico! Yes! That was it! Deep underground caverns that were originally submerged in water that was 122 degrees.

He should have buried The Wand in a place like that.

That would have been a lot smarter.

Darnit. Why didn’t he think of that sooner?

Maybe an abandoned tropical island wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Oh, well.

Too late now.

What’s done is done.

Even if he wanted to find the island himself and take a boat there, he didn’t have any clue where it was.

No.

This was fine.

That isolated beach was a good spot for it after all.

No one would ever find it.

If the person who hid The Wand can’t find it, how could anyone else?

He rolled over in bed, grateful that The Wand didn’t reappear, glowing above his head or something. That would have been crazy.

No.

No one would find it.

No one would ever be able to use The Wand again.

The world was safe.

Chapter Twenty One

From far in the ocean, Oombatta heard the deep bellows of a devil.

Out among the tides, the massive white sea monster lumbered off their coastline. Once, several moons ago, Oombatta and two of his best friends were the only warriors of his tribe brave enough to row their canoes far into the ocean to confront the monstrosity. The size of the beast alone struck fear into their hearts. It rose up out of the sea higher than the tallest mountain on their island and great spikes jutted from the back of the creature, nearly touching the very clouds. The skin of the thing was impossibly white and glowing in the sun; so white they knew it must be the living dead, because no living thing ever looked so pale. Each side of the devil seemed to be covered in one thousand eyes that looked into the very belly of the monster itself. Within some of the eyes, you could even see the white skinned ghosts of people it had devoured. Although it moved with the swift speed of a dolphin, Oombatta and his men attacked the beast. Terrifyingly, their powerful spears merely bounced off the smooth white hide with a strange clanging noise none of them had ever heard before.

Oombatta had seen the strange shaman return to his island and bury something in the sand. Something long and wooden, like a hunting spear.

Oombatta dug up The Spear after the shaman vanished in that strange little hut. Now the mysterious Spear was his. At last!

With the magics of this Spear from the gods, he would be victorious.

He would destroy the sea monster once and for all.

And he would be hailed a hero among his tribe, in all the stories grandchildren tell to grandchildren, for all the time of his people.

Attached to The Spear was a placard, covered in pictograms like his witchdoctor had used to draw the stories of their tribe.

The pictograms told Oombatta three rules.

§

You may use the magic spear for 3 risings of the sun.

You may only use it in your tribal duties.

You must secretly pass it to one in another tribe you have never seen.

§

The monster groaned its deep bellows again.

Oombatta hefted The Spear and began to drag his canoe into the sea.

Epilogue

First and foremost, I must acknowledge the late Richard Matheson for writing Button, Button which served as inspiration for this story. Button, Button was first published before I was born, as a short story in Playboy Magazine. Years later, it was adapted into a Twilight Zone episode starring Mare Winningham. About 30 years after the Twilight Zone, it was adapted into a movie called The Box starring my-future-wife Cameron Diaz (okay, I’ve never met her, but I can dream). Some say Button, Button was inspired by a story written in 1802 by François-René de Chateaubriand called Genius of Christianity, thus I must take a moment to thank François-René too.

The Page of Wands is clearly very different from Button, Button, but the concept of “magical object passed anonymously between strangers” is a fun theme, and in that way, the stories undeniably share a similarity.

Back in 1991 or thereabouts, I was given a Tarot reading and the gentleman doing the reading told me I was The Page of Wands. Apparently that was “my” card in the Tarot deck. Now, I don’t go for that Tarot mumbo jumbo. That was the only Tarot reading I’ve ever had done in my life. I’m not into any of that neo-pagan, New Age silliness. All of that astrology and rune casting hogwash is not for me, thank you. I’m quite the skeptic when it comes to that type of thing. I don’t believe in any of that stuff. Nevertheless, I always thought it was fun to identify oneself with various forms of symbolism. Thus, although I put no stake in any of that Tarot hokus pocus being valid, I find myself bemused by those things, purely out of their entertainment value.

When I hit upon the idea of a magical staff which could alter reality, “The Page of Wands” suddenly struck me as the perfect name to give the book. What could be cooler than I, who have been dubbed The Page of Wands, writing a novel that bares my namesake as the title?

The idea for this novel began in the Spring of 2013 as I was riding south out of The Valley, on the 405, into Santa Monica, to go skateboarding.

They were doing construction on the highway for what seemed like the past 500 years and as I weaved my motorcycle between traffic, I just thought, “Wouldn’t it be great to just zap the entire Sepulveda Pass with a magic wand and have this construction just be done?”

Literally, within minutes, the entire idea for this novel just came flooding into me all at once.

What if there was a magic wand that could do such a thing?

What if the magic wand couldn’t be kept?

What if it had to be passed on?

What if it didn’t have endless powers?

What if it had limitations?

What if you could only use it for your job?

What if a construction worker inherited it and finished the highway?

Who would he pass it on to?

What could other people do with it?

Just like that. Wham! Wham! Wham! All these ideas started to hit me.

Yes, boys and girls, you read that right. I conceived the entire concept for this novel on a motorcycle in traffic on the 405. You don’t get to be a more “LA writer” than that.

At the time this book was first published, this was my favorite, most accessible story. Definitely the most “commercial” and “family friendly” story I’d written. I could easily see The Page Of Wands as a major motion picture. You hear that Hollywood? The film rights await.

Those savvy to pop culture will catch numerous references to people and places in the story.

Yes, the names of firefighters in Chapter 2 are an homage to the Nine Old Men who worked in animation for Walt Disney. I worked for Walt Disney for over 6 years as a website developer. In fact, the last living member of the Nine Old Men, Ollie Johnston, died while I was working at Disney. That was a bittersweet day, even though I never met the man. I was thrilled to know I was at Disney while these legendary men were alive. Somehow it made me feel more connected to them, and the legacy of Disney, yet wistful at his passing. I never met Walt (he died years before I was born) or any of the old animators, but I wanted to tip my hat to the men who made the magic. Thank you, boys.

The skater girl Erica Riley is in honor of pornstar Riley Jensen/Erica Mucci, because I think she’s one of the most radiant girls on earth. I only hope I never meet her. The dream is always better than the reality.

The character of Brandy Rawlins is in honor of pornstar Devon Lee. Another that I find astoundingly beautiful.

Now I’m sounding like a pervert.

Don’t worry, there are no more smutty character references.

Anyone who is a fan of imaginative literature knows that the character of Mr. Electrico, also known as Douglas Bradbury, is in honor of the great and immortal Ray Bradbury.

The character Mr. Electrico starts dating, Demitria DeLaGarza, is a reference to singer Demi Lovato (her first name and the last name of her half-sister) because, who wouldn’t fall in love with the preternatural radiance of Demi Lovato?

Mr. Magicpants is a tribute to the television show Firefly created by Joss Whedon. Mr. Magicpants is a reference to Nathan Fillion playing Captain Malcolm Reynolds, whom the character of Kaylee nicknamed “Captain Tightpants”.

The scene where the girls fight the martians is in honor of Harlan Ellison and his home, known affectionately as The Lost Aztec Temple of Mars. Having met and become acquainted with Harlan in January of 2014, I had to put him in this story somehow. Since most of the tale had already been written, Harlan couldn’t be a character. If it was too late to insert Harlan as a character, what could be a better alternative than making his house the inspiration for a scene? Besides, how often does a house get a homage in a book?

Superbman, also known as Dennis Christopherson, is in honor of Christopher Lloyd Dennis, the gentleman who has played Superman on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for many years.

Madame Fabulous, also known as Sister Stacey O’Keegan, is in honor of Scarlett Keegan, the Playboy Playmate Miss September 2004. Miss Keegan and I have never met, but we have corresponded once or twice as we have one-degree-of-separation through a former Disney co-worker and Playboy Playmate Katie Lohmann.

The character of Amanda Baker is based upon a young and gorgeous tomboyish chick of the same name who worked as a mechanic at a bicycle shop in North Hollywood in 2009 or thereabouts. Amanda marks the first and only time I based a character on a real-life person without changing her name. The real-life version of Amanda Baker is nothing like the fictional Amanda Baker in this story. The real-life Amanda wasn’t into special effects or the movie industry, but her tough-yet-beautiful look was exactly right for the fictional Amanda. Lost track of what happened to her, until shortly before this book was published, then I asked her to model for the cover. She agreed. So, it’s kind of a cool novelty that the real-life girl who inspired the look of a character in a fictional novel gets to appear on the cover of the book.

And of course, who can forget the most important character of all? The most beautiful angel I know. Los Angeles, California. My love. My girl. My sweetheart. There is no other city like her. The place where dreams and nightmares come true. The glorious spectacle of Hollywood, the city where stories live forever. Home.

Well, there you have it.

Not much more to say about this tale.

It was written in 2013 and tweaked and edited into 2015, as a group of 3 unrelated novels I was writing simultaneously (including a romantic fantasy story called Voodoo & Loveshadow and a social commentary piece called Grandpa Steiner Saves the World (from Illegal Aliens (from Space))).

All in all, this was a fun and quick little tale to compose.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Hope you want to buy those movie rights for 6 or 7 figures.

Still up for sale.

- Eric Muss-Barnes

March 2015

Biography

Raised by the 1940’s swingkid generation of his maternal grandparents, Eric Muss-Barnes was born in Cleveland, Ohio. There he spent the first 32 years of his life, before picking up and moving to California, with no job and nowhere to live, in the spring of 2003.

During the course of five decades, Eric has spent years working at Walt Disney Studios; piloted hang gliders over 6000 feet above the Earth; dated fashion models, rockstar goddesses and glamazon actresses; been thrown and dragged by horses (arguably similar to his dating experiences); earned a living as an American Greetings toymaker and a Hollywood game designer; ridden motorcycles through mountains and desert sandstorms (make that “over” mountains, he’s not Buckaroo Banzai); produced, directed and edited numerous music videos and an award-nominated film; briefly wed a tattooed MENSA astrophysicist chick; crewed on an Academy Award nominated movie; skateboarded in pools all around California with XGames medalists and documented his adventures in an online video series which has garnered over 4 million viewers; written an epic series of vampire tales plus standalone speculative fiction stories and imaginative literature (for a total of 8 books, including 5 novels); photographed numerous Playboy models and sold his images in several art gallery showings across the nation; been published in multiple fiction/non-fiction anthologies; served 12 years hard time in parochial schools; purchased 10 acres of land (while unemployed) to began a Disney-inspired, technologically-advanced, off-grid, dreamouse project, called “Luthorville”, in the Mojave desert; and created and programmed a blog called “InkShard” where you can see videos and essays about his life as a writer.

He’s been 1000% clean and sober his entire life.

Never done drugs. Never had alcohol. Never touched a cigarette.

Despite being a card-carrying member of the National Rifle Association and the California Rifle & Pistol Association (and a firm believer in Constitutional Carry), Eric has yet to use his firearms to battle aliens, demons, or supervillians.

Books authored by novelist
Eric Muss-Barnes
www.EricMuss-Barnes.com

Voodoo & Loveshadow
by Eric Muss-Barnes

Ever since he was a little boy, Rusty Stratford always believed he was destined for great things. Now, with his 40th birthday fast approaching, Rusty is starting to suspect he might only be destined for mediocre things. A bachelor with few family members and fewer friends, life hasn’t quite panned out the way Rusty hoped it would, and he’s beginning to resign himself to being alone and unimportant.

All that changes the night he meets the precocious ghosts of his unborn twin daughters, Isabeau and Oona. Quickly, he comes to discover the universe is a strange brew of fate and happenstance wherein Isabeau and Oona only have a small window of time during which their spirits can be born. Can the little girls help their father find the woman destined to become their mom? Or will Isabeau and Oona miss their chance to exist?

If you squandered decades of your life awaiting “one true love” who never arrived, if dreaming of an idyllic “soulmate” kept you alive through your darkest hours and they didn’t show up, this magical tale will comfort your heartache of missed chances and abandonment with an empathy like you’ve never known. Voodoo & Loveshadow kindles hope in the loneliest of hearts, assuring when the world has given you up for dead, you may still conjure reasons for life, love and laughter to prevail...

The Gothic Rainbow: Beginning Volume of The Vampire Noctuaries
by Eric Muss-Barnes

Helle Tompkins has reached the end of her days as an outcast, suburban teenager. Ever since her beloved father killed himself, and they released Helle from the mental hospital for trying to join him, she’s been in a place where her pain is far deeper than high school melodrama.

No more hiding behind black lipstick and a mohawk. Now she’s playing with pagan charms, Wiccan rites, and the scrying sorcery of her Ouija board. It’s the perfect distraction until she summons the attention of a charming and sinister faerie prince. A seductive spirit lurking in the shadows of treebranches shimmering upon her walls, he may be something much more horrible than he claims.

Will she succumb to bewitching promises and find salvation in his cruel embrace, or will his own agonizing secrets draw Helle into even deeper heartbreak?

“...The Gothic Rainbow by Eric Muss-Barnes is, frankly, one of the most absorbing novels that I have read in quite some time. ... I’ve found the book well worth my time, and I hope you will give it a shot. ... At the end, I think you will agree that Eric Muss-Barnes will be a name to watch...”
- Christopher T. Miller, Book Stacks Unlimited

“... The Gothic Rainbow gives solace and escape for those who feel trapped in a messed-up world full of heartaches and misunderstandings. There is plenty of sex and violence to stimulate, but it’s the delicate beauty and passionate writing of this novel that will touch your soul ...”
- Octavia, Outburn Magazine

“... if you’ve ever listened to The Cure in the dark, danced to The Dead Milkmen, lost a loved one, hung out with skaters, hated your parents or hated preppies, or if anyone’s ever called you a “freak,” I think you’ll find a little of yourself in this book. Its honest representation of this subculture - from the music to the fashion - is spun throughout the web of fantasy ...”
- Cynthia Conlin, Implosion Magazine

“... it’s quite a page-turner, with lots of shocking vampiric escapades. This book, on the whole, is extremely well-written with a wonderful poetic style. I’m glad I didn’t let the slow start scare me off ...”
-Susan Moon, The Nocturnal Lyric

“... One aspect of the writing that I appreciated is that the author uses different styles of writing throughout this novel. Muss-Barnes excels in his literary descriptions of buildings, character dress, and dreams. ... the choice of words and inflection of mood hit dead on at what I anticipated I would find when I first picked up the book ...”
-Dan O., IndustrialnatioN

“... Eric effectively blends elements from different genres and literary styles in a duet between mortals and Fey. Highly unique, believable characters, and a musical playlist to boot! I found the book compelling and charming (in a twisted way), and would gladly read the book again ...”
- Chelsea, Thistle Magazine

“... I’m utterly mystified that this book worked as well as it did for me. It’s written for readers with a firm grasp of the Goth subculture (I don’t qualify); it doesn’t attempt to have a plot as such; and the vampires are hopelessly larger-than-life, with their expensive cars, outrageous acts of violence, and nonstop scorn for mortals. (In fact, the vampires consider themselves so godlike that pronouns referring to them are capitalized, a typographical idiosyncrasy that I found rather disconcerting.) Perhaps the book’s appeal lies in the sheer honesty of the narrative. ... Self-serving but sincere, The Gothic Rainbow is definitely worth checking out ... I know that’s a strange kind of thumbs-up, but The Gothic Rainbow is a strange kind of book. It’s certainly not for everyone. ... It is a book of dreams and fantasies, power and pain, and bittersweet Goth-flavored wish fulfillment ...”
- Catherine B. Krusberg, Sphere Fantasy Online

Annwn’s Maelstrom Festival: Concluding Volume of The Vampire Noctuaries
by Eric Muss-Barnes

Fetishes claw inside of you. Ones you dare never admit. Desires you could never reveal. Claims of being free of all their taboos has never made you stop fearing your own carnal wants... For none could ever endure your passions and live.

Whips and chains are for prudes.

Fangs. Talons. Blood of full moons. The darkest hungers never die. Tell us the tale of your lusts. Succumb to the story of your deviance.

Or pretend this isn’t you at all. Wonder how far burns the flame, but fear to melt the wax. No matter. We have you eternal. Wondering. Wanting. Trapped with no escape from the blackest scenarios you envision.

Know no remorse. Submit to this dread sensuality.

Mock my every word, for still, this is you.

There is a vampire legend within us all. You have felt it for years. Yearned to hear of it. To read of it. See it in a tangible form. Live it. Hungered. And yet no one has ever even spoken of it. No one has ever given that saga a voice... Until now...

This is the myth of the vampire as you have always dreamed it should be told. The one we have all secretly shared, but never expressed.

Hear how she wants every boy and girl?

The dawn of eternal night has come.

More than 17 years in the making, Annwn’s Maelstrom Festival is the long-awaited conclusion to The Gothic Rainbow. When you thought the shadows could become no darker, Annwn’s Maelstrom Festival: Concluding Volume Of The Vampire Noctuaries takes you further into the tale of Elric and Helle DuBois. Told from Helle’s perspective, the story picks up where The Gothic Rainbow: Beginning Volume of The Vampire Noctuaries ended. We learn the true motives of Camillia, and the mystery of mortals played as Pawns, in centuries-old Killing Games, by the insidious DuBois sisters.

The secrets grow deeper. The passion becomes stronger. The fury knows no limits. There is far more to Elric and Helle than they have ever dreamed. Welcome to Annwn’s Obsidian Sideshow & Maelstrom Festival, where the love of Elric and Helle will cause dominions to fall and tragedy and death be left in their wake.

How You Can Get a Job at Walt Disney Studios Without a College Degree
by Eric Muss-Barnes

Working for Walt Disney is a childhood dream, shared by millions of people, from all across the world. Since the founding of the studios in 1923, only a small fraction of individuals have ever experienced the bliss of making that dream coming true.

After working at the illustrious Studio for more than 6 years, author Eric Muss-Barnes shares his story of how that wish-upon-a-star came true for him, starting from humble beginnings in a bluecollar family in Ohio.

Told with warmth and humor, you learn every job, every experience, every career move he made. Starting from his childhood paper route during Cleveland blizzards, he explains how he journeyed all the way to sitting with Minnie Mouse, as a Cast Member, at the Disney Studio lot, on a warm Summer day.

How You Can Get a Job at Walt Disney Studios Without a College Degree is not merely about landing a job at Disney. Rather, it’s a tale regaling every trial and tribulation which lead Eric to Los Angeles, told in the hopes of inspiring you to continue the pursuit of your own dreams, whatever they may be.

You still have time to make your dream come true too. It’s never too late.

As Jiminy Cricket promised, if your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme...

The Page of Wands
by Eric Muss-Barnes

Legend has it, an ancient walking staff, known as “The Wand”, first presented itself to old widow McCreadle, along with The Three Rules.

1. You may use the magic wand for 3 days.
2. You may only use it in your profession.
3. You must secretly bequeath it to an anonymous stranger.

As the power of The Wand is entrusted from one Los Angeles resident to the next, randomly falling into the hands of noble and corrupt citizens alike, the city is brought to both bliss and ruin. But, when things finally spiral out of control in neighborhoods infested with aliens, dragons, dinosaurs, and superheroes, can a misfit group of townspeople set the world right again, before The Wand must be passed on once more?

Grandpa Steiner Saves the World (from Illegal Aliens (from Space))
by Eric Muss-Barnes

Grandpa Steiner offends everyone. He doesn’t mean to. It just happens. During his youth, his attitudes were commonplace and perfectly acceptable. As the conventions of society change around him, and more and more of his opinions become derided as obsolete, Grandpa Steiner decides to start a blog, to vent his frustrations upon the Internet.

Little does Grandpa Steiner know, when a race of space aliens secretly decide to obliterate mankind, they regard his blog as the only redeeming quality of humanity. Grandpa Steiner inadvertently causes the aliens to reconsider, thereby sparing the world from annihilation.

But when his popular essays cause a media backlash and his family convinces Grandpa Steiner to stop his politically incorrect rants, will the prevailing “culture of damn sissies” spell doom for the Earth?

Schooling Your Boss To Not Suck
by Eric Muss-Barnes

Schooling Your Boss to not Suck takes a fun and sarcastic journey into tales of horrible bosses. There are countless books on improving the workplace, but nothing quite like this.

Is your boss a supervillain? Need a superhero to straighten him out? Instead of being written by another stuffy “expert”, author Eric Muss-Barnes (who barely squeaked out of high school, let alone finished college), offers a lighthearted slant on leadership from the viewpoint of the common worker.

True stories. Real experiences. No silly parables here, folks. No “puppydogs and rainbows” like those other motivational books. Just genuine events of piss and vinegar from the American middleclass workplace.

Eric is just an Average Joe, like yourself, telling it like it is. If your boss sincerely wants to learn how to motivate and inspire the people, it’s time the boss stopped listening to other leaders and started listening to what regular people like you have to say. It’s time someone stood tall, whipped off those mild-mannered glasses, and schooled your boss on how to not suck!

Forever Loving You
by Eric Muss-Barnes

Years ago, after author Eric Muss-Barnes had the cover photo for this book taken, a friend ridiculed him and said, “Who do you think you are, Michael Bolton? This looks like a cover for an album of rock ballads. ’Eric Muss-Barnes, Forever Loving You!’” Twenty years later, instead of an album cover, it became a book cover for a compilation of cheesy lovepoems.

Colophon

Printed Editions Colophon

• HP Pavilion dm3t 1100 Notebook PC (3GB RAM / 160GB SSD)

• Windows 7 Professional 64-Bit OS

My trusty dead-silent SSD laptop was used to write this novel. I also wrote 3 other novels, reformatted 2 others books, and composed 2 memoirs on this very same computer. Indeed, it has served me well. I intend to continue writing books on nothing but solid-state laptops for the rest of my life. I’ve used typewriters, notebooks, and desktop computers and the thin-profile laptops are definitely my favorite. They are really my element. The nice thing about writing novels is that you don’t need a ton of drive capacity either. You can easily fit a lifetime of work on a 160GB drive with room to spare.

• Notepad++ 6.4.5

• Open Office 3.2.0

My initial outline was written in plain text using Notepad++ simply because I like doing outlines in plain text. The files stay clean that way. Uncluttered.

Once the outline was done, I moved into writing the actual manuscript in Open Office, so I can compose the book in the final format including page layouts and font choices. This way, no time is wasted converting a final draft into a final format. Instead, every single draft of the novel is the final format. I can concern myself with nothing but writing. The formatting is already baked in to the process. Once I choose the ideal formatting for a given story, I never have to think about it again.

• Adobe Photoshop CS2

The cover image was done in Photoshop and photographed out in the desert at my 10 acres of property called “Luthorville”. I play the role of the cowboy and the girl in the photo is a young woman named Amanda Baker, who happens to be the real-life inspiration for the character of Amanda Baker in the story. Bought my version of The Wand at Pennsic 19 (during my Scadian days) back in the summer of 1990.

• Fonts: Gentium Basic

Once upon a time, I read a question on a website from an author who wondered what font to use in printing her books. This made no sense to me. As an author, you don’t use “a” font to write all your books. The aesthetics of a font should be reflective of the tone of a story. Fonts should be different for every book an author writes, so long as the tone of the story always changes.

This book uses a font called Gentium Basic simply because I liked the way it echoed the feel of this story. It has a traditional serif look, similar to Times New Roman. Yet, it also has a bit of a modern flair with stylish spacing and leading and wonderfully vivid italics. This font really fits the “classic” feel of traditional imaginative literature and speculative fiction. When you rummage around the attic and find an old copy of a great book that your grandfather loved as a child, the font will look like this.

eBook Editions Colophon

• HP Vostro 400 Desktop PC

• Windows XP Professional OS

As with my past titles, the eBook editions were created on a desktop computer, converted from the original Open Office .ODT files used in the printed version of the book. For whatever reason, I simply prefer doing my HTML programming on a desktop computer and my novel-creation on a laptop computer. I think because my first novel was written by hand and a laptop is close to recreating that feeling. Whereas I’ve made a living as a programmer and I am used to doing that as a desk job. Hence, the reason I make printed books on a laptop and eBooks at a desktop.

• Notepad++ 6.4.5

• WinZip 9.0

In order to make the book available to readers digitally, the original Open Office .ODT files were rebuilt as an .EPUB file. Being a programmer, I engineered and constructed the .EPUB files by hand - coding all of the CSS, XHTML, OPF and NCX files in a plain text editor. Once that was complete, I used WinZip to package my .EPUB file which was then triple-validated against epubcheck 3.0, and Sigil 0.6.2, and finally in Flight Crew 0.7.2.

• KindleGen 2.7

Using the command-line utility KindleGen, I converted my .EPUB file into .MOBI format for sale and distribution online using Amazon and other .MOBI-based eReader systems. This is also the way I create my free MOBI versions that people can download for nothing and pay for via donations later.