* * *
The journey there took about forty five minutes, throughout which Linda’s face never left my mind.
Alerting Benny to the situation would have been the easiest thing in the world, taking as much effort as a single phone call. And that was, of course, the text book definition of the “right thing to do”.
I could envision the swarm of Enforcers that would descend on The Sushi Palace, gold buttons glittering and polished boots stomping in unison as they got into position surrounding the exterior. When finally the siege occurred, I imagined they were the kind of outfit that blasted first and asked questions later, (I didn’t know that for a fact, but it suited my mental state at the time,) a sort of reckless posse of expressionless hit-men with zero compassion. They would storm the building with clockwork efficiency, perhaps even blowing holes in the walls for easy access. And when finally they had their hands on my mother, silencing her would be an obvious top priority. I could picture in vivid detail her horrified expression as she was flung to the ground by an enthusiastic rookie, her body spinning like a rag doll and perhaps one shoe even flying off for added effect.
They would shut the place down, slap my mother in chains, shoot her up with drugs and throw away the key. The papers would publicise the Department of Magic’s ruthless judgment, serving as yet another testimony to those who might consider gaining an artificial benefit. For example, ripping off strangers in a high stakes poker game.
She was my mother and I loved her. Yes what she was doing was questionable, maybe even despicable. But having her turned into a human vegetable was just not an option. And Linda was happy. Wasn’t she…?
With that final thought, I decided to put the issue to temporary rest.
The automated gate opened at my arrival, allowing me to travel the endless driveway and weave my way up into the garden of the Defence Training Offices. I settled into my parking space in the shadow of the mansion, not surprised to see the nameless assistant once again waiting.
“How are you feeling today, Mister Clarence?” she asked as I climbed from my car.
An unexpected paranoia washed over me. It did not seem impossible that Selena was somehow aware of my illegal transgressions. Not necessarily by magical means, although I was yet to learn what Logical Prediction was, but… somehow. Connections? Little birds? Spies? The grapevine?
These thoughts were obviously the ramblings of a guilty mind, but I could not shake the feeling of nagging expectation as I was lead towards the door.
“How are you today?” the still nameless assistant asked.
“I’m fine,” I responded, “Feeling much more energised.”
“Then you managed to get some sleep?”
“Yes.”
“No more accidents?”
“None.”
“Good. Household furniture can be expensive.”
She said it casually, but I thought I caught a hint of playfulness in her voice. How did she know?
We mounted the steps and entered through the oak doors.
“I don’t think I’ve ever caught your name,” I said, experiencing a need to keep casual conversation active.
“Jenny.”
“Nice to meet you, Jenny.”
“We’ve met before.”
“Right.”
We arrived in the waiting room and I automatically moved to enter into the main hall, but Jenny halted me.
“One moment, Mister Clarence.”
“What?”
“Wait, take a seat. Selena will come for you when she’s ready.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Would you like some coffee?”
I opened my mouth to respond with a “yes,” but she was already stepping out and closing the door behind her. Odd habit that girl had.
I looked around and realised I once again found myself alone with a ticking clock and whole lot of suffocating silence. It was, against my own personal preference, starting to become a very familiar scenario.
Determined to not let the claustrophobia set in, and aware that I now had the added pleasure of lingering paranoia, I decided to mosey over to the display case and occupy my mind with a perusal of the exhibited glass statuettes.
A ballet dancer in mid-pirouette. A bull fighter gracefully sidestepping a charging bovine. A clown juggling. All the clichés were present, and all were shining with the amazing, reflective beauty that is a by-product of glass sculptures.
“See the magic just below the surface…”
Little breakable items tended to make me uncomfortable on principal, since I was convinced the things would conspire to shatter themselves with no assistance from myself. But as I continued to gaze into the display case I became aware of a curious sensation; overwhelming fragility, beyond the norm. I was struck by a feeling that the tiny items in front of me were the frailest objects on planet earth, so delicate and pure and that they virtually radiated perfection. They were perfection itself. There was something significant about this, I had no doubt, but what that was I could not place my finger on.
The double doors opened to my right and Selena stepped in, her presence dispelling the previous thoughts.
“Mister Clarence, forgive my tardiness.”
“Selena.”
“Please, this way.” She stepped to the side and gestured me into the hall.
I obediently stepped forward, relishing the moment I would be bathed in her fragrant scent. But as I approached, nostrils prepped and ready to work overtime, something interesting caught my eye.
It appeared to me that her skirt was hitched up an inch, sitting marginally higher on her thighs than was normal. At first I figured that this was just my imagination, or perhaps the wishful thinking of a hopeful mind, but the suspicion was confirmed as I drew closer. There was a wrinkle in the fabric of her skirt that ran the full circumference of her hips, an obvious indication that it had recently been pulled up and then not returned to proper position.
What, I wondered with equal amounts of lustful interest and genuine curiosity, had she been doing before summoning me?
I passed her, gliding through the tantalising envelope of perfume and skin cream aroma. But as I did, a second unusual abnormality was glanced from the corner of my eye.
I continued into the hall and decided to steal a look over my shoulder, more than a little curious to confirm if I had indeed seen anything. I did so, only to find her adjusting her skirt having noticed its improper positioning.
I feared for a second she may have noticed my line of sight, but her voice was as calm and level as ever.
“Sit, Mister Clearance. I’m sure you are eager to get started.”
“Yes.”
I took my seat on the low couch, noticing that the damaged wall and marble floor had been prepped for repair, the loose bits of debris cleared away and edges of the holes squared off.
“You have found your place of calm, I assume?” she said, closing the doors and approaching the chair.
“I did yes. How did you know? You seem to know a lot.”
“In this case you are alive and unharmed, Mister Clarence. A good indication you have found your place of calm.”
“Ah.”
“Well then, I am listening intently.” She sat, crossed her legs and formed into the almost military posture with which I now associated her; back straight and head held level. I wondered if she even fathomed the meaning of the word “relaxed.”
“What am I telling you?” I asked, leaning back in my chair and taking a deep breath. The hall was a place I now assumed would hold a fair amount of unexpected happenings.
“Tell me of your place of calm.”
I considered mentioning the events that had occurred with my mother, assuming Selena could shed some light on the situation. But something told me she was not the kind of person who would be understanding and empathetic. “I found it by accident. Or, I guess I found it unintentionally.”
“Tell me.”
“I remembered a moment in my c
hild hood. It made me calm.”
“Yes?”
“I think I mentioned it before, when you asked about my mother.”
“Indeed. Lying under a table, as I recall?”
“That’s right. I used to lie under the table when my mother and grandmother spoke.”
“What was so special about this moment?” Her head tilted, indicating genuine interest.
“I felt safe. Completely safe. I guess I had nothing to worry about in my youth. But then everyone’s child hood was like that. Wasn’t yours?”
She shook her head in response, a slow, calculated movement. “No.”
“Well, mine was. When my grandmother visited it was like a little Christmas every time. Lots of great food, smiling faces, laughter. My life was pretty much perfect back then.” Even as I spoke about my childhood an unintentional smile crept across my face.
“And you would crawl under the table?”
“Yes. After supper, when the dishes had been cleared, the family would play dominoes. I was too young to join in, so instead I just crept under the table. I would lie there and listen, sometimes till the sun came up the next morning.”
“Of what did they talk?”
I frowned, trying to remember. But the harder I tried the more they slipped into a fog of distortion. I didn’t have the faintest idea what had been said on any one occasion. “I can’t remember.”
“Well, perhaps it is not important, that you have found this memory is what matters. In your mind you have created what I call a peg, and upon this peg you have attached feelings of calm and control. This, Mister Clarence, is the single most powerful instrument in your possession. From this peg all other magic will be performed. It is the basis of your magic. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Then I would ask you to close your eyes and find your place of calm now. Please, proceed.”
“Okay.”
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the couch’s leather exterior. At once I focused in on the memory, finding at first the image of my old house, then diving in deeper and locating the dining room table. There I was, resting beneath it with head on my arms. Above me, my mother and grandmother chatted animatedly as they sorted through the box of dominoes.
The memory was so clear and vivid I could feel the atmosphere of the familiar room, as if I had somehow summoned a pocket of the memory around my body.
My mind had never been so clear…
“Well done, Mister Clarence. You may open your eyes.”
I did so, amazed to see that Selena almost dared appear satisfied with my performance.
“You have good focus,” she continued, “With practice it will be possible to find this place of calm faster. There is no more reliable defence against your demon than returning to your place of calm.”
“Great.” Relief washed over me. At last, a real form of control.
“And it is only a small step from here to full control of your demon. You may gain full control before defeating your demon. It would make the process much easier.”
“Full control?”
“Sí. Allow me to demonstrate.”
The room shifted and I felt a contraction of the ambience, a sensation I now recognised as the summoning of a demon. The shadows expanded to swallow the light.
She looked towards the entrance door and I followed her gaze, as expected her demon emerged from the same spot as previously, coming into existence as an optical illusion. Although my encounters with demons were becoming alarmingly frequent, the sight of the fur coat, sequined dress wearing monster still managed to make my stomach implode.
The creature glanced around, turning its out-of-focus face to scan the room. Finally its blue eyes settled on Selena. She returned the stare with what appeared to be indignant acceptance.
For a long moment the two locked eyes. Then, slowly, Selena raised her hand and motioned for the demon to approach, moving her fingers in an elegant ‘come hither’ gesture.
“Approach,” she said softly. The demon walked forward on cue, its rolling hips reflecting unmistakable catwalk-model perfection. Seeing a creature so unnatural in appearance walk with such strikingly feminine attributes was more than a little unsettling. The hairs on my arms tingled in disease, but even as they did I was able to marvel at the dazzling effect created by sunlight catching the sequined dress.
“Stop.” Selena held up her hand, the demon stopped in its tracks. “Approach.” The demon continued its advance.
“That’s amazing,” I muttered softly, mesmerised by the display.
The creature continued to draw nearer, and as it did, previously unseen details gradually became noticeable. I realised for the first time how thin its body was. From a distance the figure had seemed fashionably slim, filling out the dress just the right amount to be a properly proportioned feminine body. But now it became clear that the frame beneath the beautiful clothing was grotesquely underweight, most obvious in the bony hands and overly defined collar bone.
Still the demon advanced nearer, now within ten meters and increasing my revulsion with every subsequent step. I stole a quick sideways glance at Selena, confirming she still had control by the unchanged expression of calm occupying her face.
Five more steps and the demon would be on top of us. Selena raised her hand. “Stop.”
The demon stopped. And there it stood. I gaped, my feelings similar to observing a venomous snake from behind a sheet of glass; respecting you were safe but still unable to shake the awareness of potential danger.
“You see? It is under my control,” Selena said, her voice neutral as always, but with a hint of something else I could not quiet place. At first I thought it was amusement, but soon realised it was barely contained loathing. She hated her demon.
“How do you do it?” I breathed.
“Acceptance and Sacrifice,” Selena responded, “One must acknowledge that their demon is a part of them. They must understand and accept this part, and they must respect what has given it birth. When acceptance is achieved, control is just a short step away. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied.
“Good, that is honesty. And honesty is a good first step.”
Before me the demon raised an arm and extended a bony hand in my direction. I feared it a sign of hostility, but then recognised the palm down, limp-wristed gesture as the sort of greeting found in pretentiously upper class circles.
“What’s it doing?” I asked Selena, aware that I had begun unintentionally whispering.
“She is greeting you. Don’t be rude.”
“Is it safe?”
“I would not allow you to do something if I had not considered the risk. It is safe.”
The buzzing in my head had not started, so I rose to my feet, took a calming breath, and reached out for the demons hand. I had expected, perhaps because of the influence of modern literature and movies, that the hand would be cold to the touch. On the contrary, it turned out to be rather warm. Warmth, however, was where the association with “pleasant” ended; it felt as if I had grasped a bundle of fossilised dinosaur claws.
As I stood gingerly holding the hand of the grotesque horror, every muscle in my body tensed for a speedy escape, I realised I was living perhaps the moment of greatest personal courage in my life. Putting your head in a lion’s mouth was similar.
I withdrew my hand and took a step back towards the chair, keeping my eyes fixed on the demon and its indistinct face.
“Excellent, Mister Clarence,” Selena said, then gave a flick of her hand, “Be gone,” and the demon melted back into the surroundings, apparently revealing it had been only a trick of perception.
I sank back into my chair, breathless and more than a little amazed at what I had achieved.
“You see?” Selena said, “You are capable of great courage, as are we all, and courage is essential for controlling a demon. You have taken a great jump forward today, something of which I am proud.” Her
tone reflected no such thing, but it was amazing to even hear the words emerge from her mouth.
“That was incredible,” I breathed, “You have that thing under your control?”
“Sí. It is under my control,” she confirmed, adding an edge to her voice, “But I assure you of one thing, it is not under my control at no cost. Its presence is a constant burden, and I would be grateful to be free of the shackles.”
I turned in my chair to face her, unable to contain my curiosity. “What happened? Why were you not able to defeat your demon? Why is it still here?”
“It was a failure on my part, Mister Clarence. A terrible failure that I deeply regret. I hope that I might help you avoid the same failure.”
“What kind of mistake?”
At this she paused and her expression went cold, barely noticeable but enough to indicate it was a prickly subject. “I would prefer if we concentrated on you, Mister Clarence. My past is none of your concern.”
I nodded. A part of me longed to hear what she might have to say, desperately curious to understand what she considered to be a “failure”. Another part of me acknowledged that I felt somehow unworthy to be allowed a glimpse of this profoundly intimidating woman’s mind, like the information was sacred in nature.
“Tomorrow then,” she continued, “you will attempt to take control of my demon. Should you succeed, it will not be long before you are capable of confronting your own demon.”
“Okay.”
“It would be wise to practice finding your place of calm.”
“I’ll do that.”
I stood, accustomed to her unceremonious farewells, and headed for the door. But her voice cut through my clicking footsteps.
“Mister Clarence.”
I stopped and turned back. “Yes?”
“It is customary for a trainer to monitor his or her student. Did you know this?”
“No.”
“It is to ensure that a student comes to terms with their new abilities. It is also to ensure that a student does not get mixed up in illegal activities.”
“Right.” My heart slammed on brakes. She knew. I attempted to keep my voice level and did so admirably under her scorching brown gaze. “What kind of illegal activities?”
“Just promise me, Mister Clarence, you will not do anything against the law. It will reflect very badly on both of us.”
“But what…”
She cut me off. “Promise me.”
“I Promise.”
“Good. I will see you tomorrow.”
I turned back for the exit, heart cranking up into overdrive to make up for lost time.