Only Simon didn’t fall completely under Nachton’s spell. Something must have gone quite wrong. After whispering for him to “Relax and think peaceful thoughts”, he tried to repeat the headdress rite but couldn’t. The closer he edged the harder it was to move, like an invisible man were pushing their heads apart.
Nachton found that looking into the boy’s soul was different and unnerving. Usually he experienced the same boring thoughts, impossible hopes and fruitless dreams every time he invaded someone’s mind. But Simon was different. There were flashes of anger and great power. He refused to give up control. Nachton could not understand what was happening. All he was sure of was that he wanted nothing more to do with this kid. “Good enough”, he thought. “I have to move on.”
Simon’s expression drifted back and forth between a state of absolute relaxation and genial befuddlement. Willard had never seen anyone fight the spell before and it gave him a feeling of impending doom.
Nachton’s voice rose again to project throughout the bar. “Mr. Harper, are you hypnotized?”
“I must certainly am not! How dare you suggest such a thing? Only the weak-minded can be hypnotized and it is preposterous that…”
His objections were cut-off midsentence when Nachton touched his finger and thumb together in a close-your-mouth movement. The crowd pressed forward to see this arrogant clod, that no one cared for, made to shut-up. Wild cheers erupted from the gathered students. The audience was his.
“Hey Spike.”
“What up dude?”
“Are you doing anything that other people might think odd in any way?”
“Yes”
“What might that be?”
Houlihan’s face tinged red and he muttered, “Wearing my ‘happy boxers’.”
“What was that? I don’t think everyone could hear you.”
Spike stood to his greatest height and announced, “I-am-wearing-my-‘Happy-Boxers’.”
A broad smirk of triumph spilled its way across Nachton’s face. “Oh I think we would all very much like to see those. Why don’t you show us Spike? Model those for us…do a dance.”
The big man obediently flipped off his shoes and unbuckled the belt. There was the slightest hesitation when unzipping his fly but at a forceful ‘Now!’ from the Magician he let the slacks fall. Howls of laughter crashed off the walls and ceiling. There stood UVA’s Alpha Jock in blue satin underwear decorated with unicorns, hearts and smiley faces.
“Charming”, said Nachton, oozing sarcasm as Spike began to prance around the stage in an ungainly moonwalk-Saturday night fever hybrid.
“Ms. Del Mont, what is your major here at the University of Virginia?”
“Interpersonal Relations and Psychology.”
“So you must have a good understanding of people. You are able to relate to them on a really deep level?”
“Yes.”
“I think that must be useful when dating. Have you had many dates since you came to school?” His gaze lingered on her plain face and full-figure.
“No, none.”
“A pity. But certainly there must be some young man here tonight who would be happy to escort such a lovely lady for the evening. Do you see any you would like to get to know better?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. Why don’t you go collect all the most handsome men from the crowd and bring them here to me.”
While Alicia wended her way into the throng Nachton turned back to the Professor. His voice sweetened into a horrible mocking sneer. “Oh, I almost forgot about you. You may speak.”
“…you should suggest I would be so susceptible. You sir are a fraud and a cheat.”
Nachton raised his eyebrows so high they mixed with his long bangs, “Really? So, if I asked you to confess your deepest secrets you would not give in to my demand?”
“I…I…would tell you everything.”
Silkily he replied, “Oh, I know you will. What pray tell, is the worst thing you have ever done as a teacher? What is your hidden faux pas?”
Harper fidgeted with his hands for several seconds before opening his mouth, “She was quite beautiful. She told me no one ever had to know. It would be our little secret. Just a few points added to a test here, accepting late paper there.” Harper’s voice drifted upwards as if on a breeze, “Oh how graceful she was. Like a swan in the evening light. Her skin was peppermint and roses. When we kissed I felt younger, years and years younger.”
“It appears that our good Professor has had an affaire du Coeur. Who was it? Anyone we might know?”
“Oh yes. I always knew she would do well. The Supreme Court has not been the same since she took her seat on the bench.”
Nachton had heard many things over the years but today he did not have to fake a shocked expression and held his hand in front of his open mouth. “Tch tch tch, perhaps we will keep that little secret. Wouldn’t want to ruin a promising career would we?”
Next he turned to Simon who had been struggling against the charm. “Too unpredictable”, he thought, “Something there I can’t control. Best to get him out of here.”
“Simple Simon was a pie man…do you like pie, Simon?”
A dreamy look crossed his face. His subconscious mind saw no need to fight against something that could not harm him.
“Yes.”
“How much pie do you think you could eat at one time?”
“Maybe a whole pie.”
“Let us find out. Go down to the shop and get three of your favorite flavors. We will be here when you get back. Then I would like you to eat them all.”
With no sign of rebellion, Simon strode off the stage, out the door and turned right at a jog. He was headed for the Take it Away sandwich shop a couple blocks over.
The three remaining subjects were growing more animated in their performances. Professor Harper was ticking off the names of all the other girls had had given “tutoring” to over his 30 years at the school. If he was truthful, and there was no reason to believe otherwise, he need not have ever given a test because every girl passed anyway. Alicia had gathered a dozen guys onto the stage and at a prompt from Nachton began to sing her secret desires about each. Spike proved he was thoroughly enjoying himself by ripping his shirt, grabbing a chair and living out his fantasy of starring in Flashdance.
A heady feeling of power flowed over the Magician. It was always like this. He could feel their will succumbing to his, their strength melding with his own. The crowd too gave him power. Mocking laughter fed him and this room was a feast. He moved smoothly from one subject to another; pointing out their foibles; squeezing every last succulent drop of misery. His joy was interrupted by a rippling murmur that washed over the bar.
Harper had fallen to his knees and began crying, wailing and begging forgiveness. Only the hardest of hearts could laugh at this display. Spike too was no longer an object of derision. His dance had ended with a knee twisted at an impossible angle. He was screaming in pain. Alicia’s song grew louder and louder until it became a piteous cry. “Please love me! Please love me!” Tears flowed in heavy streams which ran her mascara into black smudges.
Dead silence rested on the crowd. Here and there someone would sniffle and a girl hid her face from the tragedy. Jody rose with a scowl and his entourage scattered chairs everywhere.
He looked furious and pointed at Nachton, “You’re sick man. Really sick. Come on guys, let’s get outta here.”
Barely ten people remained in their seats after Jody’s dramatic exit. The Great Performer stared blankly at the empty seats for a full minute, only the sound of desperate pleas from behind him echoing about.
Just then the door crashed open and Simon stumbled in. His shirt was covered with spilled chocolate cream from his first pie while a second tin was tilted to his mouth. Lemon meringue dribbled over the sides. The third pie, a handsome berry, balanced precariously in his free hand. Simon choked once, spewed half-eaten dessert all over the floor and tucked-in again as if nothing had happened.
“Show’s over. Go home”, commanded Nachton. A bright yellow ball sped from each of their heads back to the amulet and all three golems shook violently before awakening to reality. He grabbed a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels and stalked off to the dressing room. George would be back at the motel by now, reading scriptures and talking to his wife on the phone. All Nachton had to look forward to, all he wanted, was right here in his hand.
Harper and Alicia helped Spike to his feet out the door. His knee was still hurting but nothing seemed broken. None of them said a word, too ashamed to face the reality of what had happened.
Simon however had done a lot of thinking during his little shopping trip. All the strange, wonderful, magical things that had happened since he found that stone so many years ago floated back into his memory. This man had a stone. This man knew how to control it. This man might be able to undo things done by others. Things Simon was afraid he had done himself. He needed some answers and needed them now.
He rushed past the curtained doorway and into a dark narrow hall. There were four rooms, two on each side, into one of which the magician had gone. Simon tried the first on the left and found it locked. He pressed his ear against the smooth wood but heard nothing. Moving across the hall he opened the second door to reveal a huge grinning head which scared the pants off of Simon. It was starkly white with fiery red eyes and blue lips. He puffed three times to calm his heart and then pushed the paper mache clown aside. Further in was a collection of mops, brooms and cleaning fluids. The last door on the right was also locked but he could hear someone moving about and apparently throwing things.
He knocked softly but firmly. The noise stopped. “Hello?” he called. “Nachton, I’d like to talk to you. My name is Simon and we have something…special…in common.”
The resounding, full, almost deafening silence that followed was not what Simon had wanted to hear. He knocked again more forcefully.
“Nachton! I saw your headdress. I know what that thing is.”
Heavy dragging footsteps could be heard behind the thin door. The handle turned with a rusty squeak and then glided inward.
Nachton was moving back to the couch while pouring the whiskey down his throat. Obviously he was practiced at this for not a gasp or wheeze escaped his lips, just the slow gurgling sound of strong spirits flooding his mouth.
“Excuse me. I couldn’t help but notice your headdress. I have a stone something like that.”
“You said that already”, moaned a slightly slurred voice from under the bottle that had tipped down just enough to stop the flow but not to invite conversation. Nachton sounded old and young, foreign and familiar. Simon wasn’t concerned about his history though, just what he could find about these stones.
“Yeah, well here’s the thing. I think there’s something special about my stone. I’ve never seen another like it…until now. Does your do, I dunno, strange things?”
A very elderly but assertive voice leapt from Nachton’s lips, “Do you mean, ‘Is this thing powerful’ or ‘Does it let me do real magic’? Don’t be stupid boy. The only power in this room is me. ME, DO YOU HEAR?”
During his speech Nachton had raised half-way from the couch and with the outburst lost his balance. Down he tumbled into a crumpled heap. Without even trying to right himself Nachton reached for the bottle but Simon was quicker. He kicked the Jack away from the drunken magician and peered into the bloodshot yellow eyes.
“Nachton, you and I both know that that thing has some kind of special power. I saw what you did and I felt it. Now…”
Simon reached into his pocket and retrieved his own stone. The blue light emanating from it was brighter than he had ever seen. Not exactly a warm light, more like the sun shining through a very deep but clear pool of water. It was intense but diffused throughout.
The instant Nachton saw the large object in Simon’s hand he scuttled away like a beached crab. His voice was high and scared. It also sounded extremely young as if its owner were merely a child.
“Keep that thing away from me! It’s too big, too much! I can’t handle it.”
But then his tone softened and deepened. Now it sounded like a man in the prime of life. One who was not the slightest bit afraid of Simon or his stone.
“Excuse me, just my little joke. Al-ways the performer don’t you see? Perhaps you might let me examine that little bauble of yours, uh Simon, you said your name was?”
“Yes I did. Here.” But at the moment of handing it over he felt an intense dislike of Nachton. He didn’t really want to let him hold the stone. He had had it for most of his life after all and no one but maybe his Mom or Ginni were special enough to him to share this with.
Nachton must have sensed the microsecond of hesitation because he muttered smoothly, “That’s right son, just put it into my hand.”
Simon withdrew the proffered gem and looked warily at this man not 10 years older than himself. “Why does he keep calling me ‘son’ and ‘boy’?” he thought. “I don’t even know this guy. Maybe I need to slow down a bit.”
Nachton was not interested in slowing down though. He moved surprisingly fast and accurately for someone who had imbibed a double Cherry Cream and half a bottle of Jack Daniels. Simon felt a hard punch to his chest which drove him back against the door and knocked all his breath out in a single deep cough. At the same time he popped the stone into the air out of Simon’s hand and caught it with a menacing grin.
“Fortune smiles upon me after all”, he said nastily. “My dear brother would not help me achieve the greatness I deserve and then walks in a complete stranger to give me precisely what I need.”
Simon lay dazed on the floor, trying to suck a measure of air into his screaming lungs. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The illusionist should have told him what this stone was all about, not attacked him. He tried to stand but could not find the floor.
“So you know nothing about the stone?” continued the old hateful voice. “Listen closely then for I shall tell you a fanciful tale beyond your imagination.”
Again Simon tried to arise but this time he was cast down by a burst of yellow fire which roared from the headdress.
“Sit, relax”, crooned the old voice, “Your time will come soon enough.”
“Back in the deep mists of time, a very wise man questioned why things had to be the way they were. He did not approve of the untidy, inefficient methods then in use. So he began to gather some followers, those who agreed with his way of viewing reality. In time he was confronted by those in power who feared what this man may accomplish if given the chance. They combined against him and only through lying to the gathered multitudes were they able to thrust him and his supporters out of their country. Long they wandered until finding a beautiful land they settled and organized themselves into the perfect community with the Wise Man at their head. Shortly thereafter a small royal party from their mother country arrived and challenged the Wise Man and his people. From that moment until today the two groups and their descendants have been at war.”
None of this made the slightest sense to Simon. All he wanted was to get his stone and escape. He was recovering his strength and watched closely for a moment when Nachton’s attention may stray.
“I am the natural heir of that Wise Man who lived so long ago. Not by blood mind you but through knowledge. You see, I can use these stones to do my will. You, pathetic little boy, don’t have the slightest understanding of what you have had all these years. Let me demonstrate.”
Nachton lifted the stone and touched it to the yellow crystal in his turban. They both glowed brightly, the yellow and blue lights melding into a brilliant green. Then the stones themselves seemed to melt and reform as a single emerald held high in the air.
The laugh was unlike any he had ever heard in real life. People just didn’t make that kind of low rumble which grew in volume and insanity until it became a loud high siren. It wailed on and on for what seemed like hours until Simon clasped both hands over his ears and screwed his eyes tight. It penetrated his fingers, echoed in his chest and squirmed in his guts like something alive. Simon tried to crawl to the door but his limbs were shaking so hard they wouldn’t carry him. Then the sound changed.
A crack in the wall of sound appeared. Nachton shook from head to toe as if it were he that had shattered. His mouth was still open but nothing came out. Simon had seen this kind of silent terror only at the amusement park when someone had gone beyond fear to paralysis. Nachton’s eyes shot upward to the stone he was holding and blinked stupidly.
It had shattered like an egg and thin rivulets of green lava were dripping down onto Nachton’s face and running down his arms. Long gouges appeared in his skin wherever the liquid passed, a burning acid that eats all it touches. The dumb mouth widened in pain but still nothing emerged.
His arms dropped swiftly as he appeared to try and throw the deadly shards away away but it was far too late for that. The ooze spread relentlessly, soaking in and reemerging all over his body. Simon thought it looked like very active worms hollowing out an apple.
A hoarse whisper, which sounded enormous in the tomb-like silence, escaped from a hole in Nachton’s head. It was a perfectly calm and soothing voice that Simon recognized as the young personae which had performed on stage and let Simon into the room.
“I am Willard Hoffmann.”
“What can I do?!” hollered Simon in shock. “How can I help?!”
“You can’t help me, no one can.”
“But…”
“No, listen. Soon we will be dead and it is for the best. But you have a chance. There is only one man who knows how to fight this thing. Go to the monastery in Washington D.C, Mount St. Sepulchre Franciscan Monastery. DePraeco took me there once. You can find him in the catacombs.”
“But…”
Once at a county fair Simon had pressed the tip of his tongue to a mound of cotton candy. It melted before his eyes, the airy twines breaking and collapsing into themselves. Something very similar was happening to the magician. His organs were exposed, bluish grey and maroon red under the vanishing skin. Blobs of fat squeezed out between the ribs in greasy yellow sausages. Arteries pulsed with blood in a frantic effort to maintain this quickly disintegrating body. Simon could no longer bear the horror and retched violently. Then the soft young voice came one last time.
“You know…I probably would have made a good accountant. I guess I’ll never know.”
Simon, in shock and unable to look away, observed the decaying body. It bubbled like a thousand maggots were under the skin. Then someone spoke which he had not heard before while still the body of Nachton dissolved in silent torture.
“I am Eugene Laurant.” The voice was strong and, if possible, happy. “Thank you for releasing me. I made a deal with another to prolong my life and enhance my magical powers. But long ago DePraeco came and took everything from me. I shall now go to my rest.”
A fourth voice echoed in the room. It was brimming with the confidence of a man who died at the moment of his greatest power and fame.
“I am Harry Hudini. Laurant called me back soon after my death and we strove together to discover all the hidden secrets. I could not reveal myself and wearied of this pseudo-life. I thank you. At last, I too shall accept what lies beyond.”
The clock on the wall ticked loudly. There was nothing he or anyone else could do now. Simon was rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. After an eternity, blood began to pour from Nachton’s skin like an unholy sweat. Great drops seeped through his clothes and collected in a neat puddle on the floor before hardening into a smooth and beautiful ruby. Despite his fear and loathing of the murderous stone, he couldn’t just leave it here. Who knew what devilry it would cause? Simon picked it up and dropped it heavily into his left-hand jacket pocket.
