The Magic Shop

Their Uncle, Caleb





Marcus felt sick and disoriented even when the whirling flames around him slowed to a stop and then finally disappeared in a puff of swirling smoke. Whether it was the motion, or a side effect of this unfamiliar magic, he didn’t know, but he buckled over, sure he was about to embarrass himself by vomiting everywhere. By the way Ellie hugged her stomach, he could tell she felt the same way.

“Where are we?” Marcus managed. By the sterile smell in the air, he assumed they were at the hospital, but he didn’t recognize the small room they had appeared in. Scattered papers covered the nearby desk. Files and folders appeared to be trying to crawl out of the nearby cabinets as well. They were surrounded by paperwork and an overall mess.

“We’re in the warden’s office,” Anabell said, stepping away from them and opening the office door a crack. Apparently she had been unaffected by the mode of transportation.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked.

Anabell paused. “Nothing,” she sighed to herself.

“What do you mean, nothing?” Marcus asked, “You—”

“There’s nothing out there,” she said, furrowing her brow, then biting her lip.

“So let’s go then,” Ellie said, pushing her way forward. Anabell held her back with a stiff arm.

“Shh,” she said with a wave of her hand, peeking out again through the cracked door.

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked.

“It quiet,” Anabell said, “too quiet.”

“It’s a mental hospital,” Marcus said. “It’s not like it’s a carnival or something.”

Anabell ignored him, and slowly opened the door. She took one cautious step at a time. Marcus thought she looked like a burglar sneaking about, but he and Ellie followed anyway.

The dark hallway was empty. The only motion Marcus saw was the flickering of the overhead lights. The strobe effect reminded Marcus that he didn’t feel well.

Anabell didn’t walk down the middle of the hallway, but rather crept against the walls. Marcus thought her behavior was a little odd. After all, wasn’t she the one that was in such a hurry to get back to Caleb with the skull?

They rounded a corner, and for the first time, Marcus recognized where they were. Across the dimly lit open space were several windows that beamed a few streams of light. Opposite the windows stood an old wooden table, and for the first time that Marcus could remember, it was empty.

Anabell stood up straight.

“Where’s Uncle Caleb?” Ellie asked.

Again, Anabell didn’t answer, but she moved quickly into the common room and examined the table. Marcus and Ellie followed. He didn’t see any strange marks or signs of a struggle. Everything was as if no one had ever been there.

Taking a deep breath, Anabell said, “They must have taken him somewhere,” and she opened her backpack, rummaging through it a moment before pulling out the ornate gold ball she had used to find the Phoenix in the forest.

She held the device close to her lips, and whispered, “find Caleb Fith.”

The carvings on the globe illuminated briefly, fading away a moment later. Then, new lettering appeared, replacing the other words, and Anabell held out her hand as the sphere began to float and the two rings began to spin as they had before. The intersection of the two rings met in a glow and indicated the way they should go.

“So, that’s like an ancient GPS or something, isn’t it?” Marcus asked over his shoulder to Ellie. “Doesn’t it talk to you too?” His sister smirked dryly and then followed their aunt.

She took them down another hall they hadn’t been through before. Anabell looked down at the device every few steps, as if she couldn’t believe what it was indicating. As they got closer, Anabell’s lips quivered.

“Do you know where it’s taking us?” Ellie asked, a concerned look on her face.

Anabell nodded as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Where?” Marcus asked. Then he thought heard a murmur from somewhere down the hall.

But she didn’t have to answer. They rounded another corner, and for the first time that night, encountered people. Marcus recognized most of them. They were the same people he had always seen at the hospital since he had visited there the first time as a young boy. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was different about them. A group of them gathered around a large glass window where they watched something.

“Let us through,” Anabell said suddenly, pushing people aside.

Then Marcus heard a voice he had heard his whole life, though never quite like this.

“Anabell?” Charlotte called out, raising her voice over the crowd. There was something shrill and wild about it. A moment later she lanced her way through the crowd, and stood face to face with Anabell, her fists bunched up in balls.

“What took you so long?” she snapped. Marcus thought her face looked screwed up and bitter.

Anabell looked angry. “What—?”

“He’s dead,” she said, “and you weren’t here for him. She began slapping Anabell’s chest and shoulders. “We needed the skull.”

“What?”

“That’s enough,” a shaky voice said from behind her. Winston surfaced from the crowd, and grabbed his wife by the shoulders and pulled her away. “Stop Charlotte, please.”

Anabell dropped to her knees, clutching at her chest and gasping for air. She buried her face in her hands, and her backpack fell to the ground. The golden ball rolled out onto the floor, followed by a tumbling skull.

Winston’s eyes opened wide, then he bent down quickly and picked up the skull. He raised his voice. “Do you still have that recipe handy, Pat?” he asked.

Marcus scoured the crowd. He hadn’t seen the warden anywhere.

“The soufflé?” Pat asked as she emerged from amongst the crowd a moment later, tapping the side of her head. “Committed to memory.”

“Then we have to try,” Winston said as he pushed his way back to where Pat was.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said, reaching a hand down to the sobbing Anabell. “It’s just… I’ve lost my son.”

“And I’ve lost my husband,” she replied indignantly between sobs.

Marcus grabbed Ellie’s hand and followed after their grandpa. They weaved in and out of the crowd until they worked their way to the glass room.

The room was cold, the ambient light giving off a subtle blue color. Stainless steel cabinets and appliances lined the room, encircling several men and women, all dressed in long, white, hooded robes, standing around Caleb. He lay on what Marcus thought looked like an operating table, only there were no operating tools nearby—at least, not the kind Marcus had seen on television.

Colored steam ascended from wooden bowls of thick, bubbling liquid. Around them were piles of leaves and herbs organized in order of color. Odd stones and other items lay on the table at the feet of the people in white robes.

For the first time, Marcus saw peace in his uncle’s face. The pain had left him. The wear and tear of the world’s cares; that defeated hospital look he always wore on his face; and that last glare of terror he had given Marcus when he saw the picture of Sol—all gone. Though he was very sad, in a strange way Marcus felt happy for him. His uncle was finally free.

Winston made his way to one side of Caleb, and Pat made her way to the other. He handed the skull to Pat and hesitated for a moment, considering the large piece of bone. She took it from him a moment later and turned to the table of oddities behind her.

She dipped her finger into the bowl of what looked, at this point, like bubbling mud, and then she muttered words quietly for a few moments. Bowing his head, Winston began uttering the same things too. Then she removed her finger from the bowl and began to paint odd symbols on the bony beak of the once glorious bird that Marcus had seen with his own eyes.

“What is she doing?” Ellie whispered.

Marcus couldn’t resist. This time Marcus elbowed her, and told her to be quiet.

A sizzling sound suddenly emanated from the skull, and Marcus gaped in amazement as the lettering that Pat had painted on to the skull eroded until finally, as if it were some kind of acid, the mud-like script bored its way through the skull, leaving holes where the symbols had been.

Pat lifted up the skull and gave it a bit of a shake so that the remaining bone dust could fall out, then she nodded.

One of the white-robed people carried over a golden platter that bore the same type of lettering Marcus had watched Pat write on the skull.

Pat took a golden feather from the table and swept the powder that the bones had left behind into the platter that the server held out under the table. She took the platter and then placed it on the table.

She picked up an orange stone from off the table, held it above the platter, and mumbled again.

The color in the stone began to drain and concentrate at its base, revealing electric-like orange tendrils. A moment later a bolt of fiery energy leapt from the stone and ignited the bone powder on the platter into flames.

Pat put her hand into the flames and winced, then she took a handful of the substance and sprinkled it over Caleb’s body.

As the substance made contact with his body, flames broke out, moving across his body. Caleb was on fire, and Marcus covered his mouth.

Ellie turned her head, gasping. The smell was horrid.

“Is it working?” Anabell asked as she rushed into the room. Grandma was close behind her.

“Why didn’t you say you were going to do this?” Charlotte asked.

“Children,” Winston said, his eyes narrowing, “turn your heads.”

Ellie obeyed, but Marcus didn’t. They had been through so much for their uncle that he wanted to take this like a man.

They waited for what seemed like an eternity, but the fire only worked its nature, not its magic. Caleb’s body burned black like char. After some time he was no longer recognizable as a human, but rather a pile of ash.

“When is it supposed to start working?” Anabell asked, swallowing hard.

“It’s too late,” Pat said, taking a deep breath. “His body should have absorbed the flames.”

“What are you saying?” Winston asked, his eyes bouncing back and forth from Pat to the ashes where his son’s body had been.

Pat, not meeting his incredulous stare, said, “It didn’t work, Winston. I’m so sorry.”