48. Go Fish
FORTY-EIGHT
GO FISH
In the realm of Magical Naturalism, spontaneous generation is the theory that life or matter can seemingly appear from nowhere, though we know that all magic, like energy, is finite and ever-circulating in the universe.
One argument for this theory is the well documented existence of star jelly—an ethereal substance believed to fall from the sky without origin.
Though it feels as though it materializes from nothing, it is simply a manifestation of energy, transformed and given shape by forces we do not yet fully understand. In nature, nothing truly comes from nothing; it is all part of a greater magical cycle of energy.
–EXCERPT FROM THE MUDPUDDLE MANUAL OF NATURAL MAGIC
The last thing Maida wanted to do was call Cormac’s attention to the magical item around her neck, inside of which she prayed her friend was safe.
She was pretty sure her plan to save Will had worked.
The gearheart locket felt heavier. It whirred and buzzed contentedly against her chest. The warmth of it was very welcome in the damp chill of the cellar.
Maida tucked it into her shirt and continued to chastise Cormac for leaving Will inside the portal.
The trick was standing up to him, without pushing him over the edge.
Cormac’s greed was making him reckless. He plowed through cabinets and tore down carefully organized displays, all the while devouring more of his magic bars.
He seemed voracious, manic, and unpredictable.
He was getting frustrated by the simplest items, flinging them to the floor at the first sign of resistance.
She did not know how long he planned to spend down here, but they both knew that he couldn’t stay forever.
The clock was ticking. Eventually, it would be morning.
Arthur and Granny and Rosie would return.
The bells would chime and there would be customers in the shop above.
She couldn’t bear to think about what Cormac might do to any of them.
“Cursed chords!” Cormac shook the enchanted fiddle that was screeching an ear-splitting dirge.
“Stop that wretched warbling! Silencio!” He pointed his wand at it and spoke officiously, but the instrument refused to obey.
It seemed to get louder. Cormac kicked at the case and cast again, trying spells in other languages and dialects, to no avail. The cacophony continued.
Maida took advantage of Cormac’s distraction to creep over and sit beside Lucretia. If only she could release her aunt’s bindings, Lucretia might help.
Tears were streaming from Lucretia’s eyes as she looked at Maida, imploringly.
“It’s going to be okay,” Maida whispered to Lucretia. “We’ll figure something out. We won’t let him get away with it. I know you didn’t know before. But you do now. And you’ve got to help me. There’s got to be something we can do.”
Lucretia nodded, but she wasn’t looking at Maida. She was staring over Maida’s shoulder at the display case. The same case that Maida had noticed flashes of movement in. Another single tear fell from the corner of Lucretia’s eye.
Maida turned her head and spied the motion again.
Squinting her eyes, she struggled to make out the tiny figure that was responsible.
At first she thought she was imagining it, that it was a trick of the light.
But as the lantern on the table in front of them suddenly lit, as if by magic, she realized her eyes did not deceive her.
There was a tiny mouse inside the display case, casting spells with her tail. A moment later, a message appeared on the lantern’s glass, as if it were written with a finger.
Welcome to the Archives, Maida. You’ll do just fine.
Maida sat up straighter, and felt her whole self lifted, as understanding dawned on her. The mouse that she’d been seeing all over the house, in the mudroom, the bookshop, and the cafe—that wasn’t any ordinary mouse.
She looked at Lucretia.
“Is that?”
She’d been about to say “Minerva”, but the question was interrupted when she noticed a familiar figure standing at the top of the stairs, silently assessing the situation.
“Urrrrghhhh! Someone needs to put you out of your misery!” Cormac was so busy bashing the fiddle against the cabinet that it took him several seconds longer than it should have to notice Arthur’s entrance.
“The same could be said for you,” Arthur retorted.
Before she could blink, Arthur was at the bottom of the stairs.
Even in his animal form, there was no mistaking the Arthur-ness of him.
His flaming eyes were wise and understanding.
His massive, muscular form was strong, capable, and steady.
His entire body glowed with the glossy brown warmth of fine, polished wood.
And of course, his crowning glory, a thorny forest of horns, stretched over six feet high towards the ceiling.
He wasn’t just magical. He was majestic.
It was such an impressive sight, to see him like this, that it made her forget the situation, and all the danger they were in, for a moment.
But she was quickly reminded of the threat. Cormac was holding his wand over his head, staring cagily at them both, deciding what to do.
Maida leapt to her feet.
“Arthur, look out, he has a wand!” she shouted.
“Seriously, Maida?” Cormac hissed. He spun to point his wand at her. He stood straighter and cracked his neck. “What do you see in this guy? He’s an animal. Literally. Lucretia will back me on this.” Cormac jerked his head toward her aunt, in a broken bid for support.
Arthur, who had been about to charge, lifted his head slightly. He watched with feverish eyes as Cormac shook the wand at her.
With a whistle Cormac called the circulating vines. They swarmed closer to her. Not close enough for contact, but enough to menace her, surrounding her like airborne leeches.
Lucretia closed her eyes, and Maida could see she was shaking.
“I could change her mind about you, Hart.” Cormac turned the full force of his false charm on Maida now.
He smiled that falsely charismatic smile and shook his wand back and forth like a metronome, then touched it gently to her cheek.
“You know I’m a much better choice for you, Maida.
Why don’t you just tell Arthur to go away… ”
Cormac rolled the wand impatiently between his fingers and flipped it showily.
She could feel the waves of his spell breaking over and rolling off her like a toxic oil spill. What tried to cling was revolting.
Arthur met her eye again, his nostrils flaring. He pawed the ground again, gazing from Maida to the wand, and back again.
The vines edged in closer, distracting her as they tickled her forearms and kissed her calves. The spell hadn’t stuck, but it had still dazed her. She couldn’t make sense of what Cormac was saying.
“No,” she shook her head, “no, no, no…”
“No, what? No, we shouldn’t let him go? I agree.” Cormac laughed and turned back to Arthur. “Your timing is impeccable, Hart.”
“Arthur, no!” Maida pleaded. “Just go. Rosie needs you. You shouldn’t be here.”
She saw the look in his eye, the flash of pain and hurt, followed by sheer determination and resolve. Suddenly she was feeling everything he was feeling; how desperate he was to save her, how he was willing to risk everything. For her.
She felt the same way about him.
“You know what, Hart? I forgot that synthetic magic doesn’t work so well to hypnotize half-breed manifesters like Maida.” Cormac pivoted back to face Arthur. “But it works on shifters like you.”
Cormac lowered his wand and placed it between his palms. He rolled it slowly back and forth, shooting sparks of prismatic white light that crackled and crystalized, taking the form of razor-sharp teeth.
Row after row clicked together, like beads on a string.
They spiraled around Cormac, creating an insatiable vortex with him at the center.
“I’m not normally much of a carnivore,” Cormac said. “But I’ll make an exception for you. I’ve heard consuming a shifter in their altered state can impart the eater with the creature’s powers.” He took a step forward.
Maida was horrified as she watched Arthur struggle against Cormac’s mesmerizing spell. His eyes were wild with fear, pain, and sadness. She could sense his emotions as if they were her own.
What is the point of empathy if you are powerless to change things?
“Such a pity, Hart.” Cormac laughed in anticipation of his own punchline. “Here you came to get the girl, but instead you’re going out stag!”
Maida caught the glint of something glass moving in the display case again.
Time froze. Cormac, Lucretia, and Arthur froze. The vines that bound her aunt, and all the ones surrounding Maida, withered. They fell in limp coils to the ground. Even the corsage on her wrist went limp, making her feel sad for the plant once again.
It’s not just about bees and butterflies, Maida. It’s about hopes and dreams. You have the ability to create change in impossible ways.
Arthur’s words echoed in her mind. He’d had such faith in her. He’d trusted that she’d find her way.
He’d been right.
All at once, Maida understood. Her magic wasn’t about synthesis. It was about emphasis. Cormac couldn’t make something from nothing and neither could she. No one could. Energy didn’t exist in a void. That wasn’t how manifestation magic worked.
What Maida could do, she realized, was harness her capacity for empathy to direct energy and emotions toward a different outcome. Arthur was right to trust that everything flowed from intention. She knew exactly what she had to do to harness her power.
Maida closed her eyes tight and threw out her arms. She pictured Arthur somewhere else.
Somewhere safe and comforting. This part wasn’t any more difficult than holding a candle and shielding it from the wind.
Instead of cupping her hand to protect the flame, she opened herself to Arthur’s essence, offering it temporary shelter in the safety of her heart.
She felt her chest contract, growing warm as his energy filled her.