This is my entry into the 2013 Halloween Story Contest. -- Carlie Plum
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Brandt carefully drew a diagonal line across the square marked 25 on his October calendar. True, the day wasn't over yet, but he had his messenger bag across his shoulder and he was headed out the door. Chris Tickman, another quant asked, "Another day, another dollar, Brandt? Or are you counting up the number of days you've been Brandt the Quant?"
Brandt the Ant had been an annoying nickname, but his name actually rhymed with ant. Now that annoying little toad in the next cubicle thought it was amusing to mispronounce his name so it would rhyme with the short form of their job title: quantitative analyst. Brandt didn't answer. It was such easy magic, really, just a few whispered words and Chris's tongue would cleave to the roof of his mouth. He could even make it temporary, a few days, max. But those weren't the terms. One year without magic. That was the punishment he had agreed to before coming here. He'd had two warnings for magicking above his level before his sentence was passed down. If he had only learned to suffer fools then as he was doing now. He would have let Ainsley brag about his accomplishments without showing everyone that the blowhard couldn't even keep up with his own level while he, Brandt, could outpace him although he was a good year and a half younger.
Chris stopped teasing him, his eyes studiously on his desk as the sound of footsteps, or more specifically, a very familiar set of footsteps made by long-legged strides and Christian Louboutin heels echoed in the hallway that led the quantitative analysis department. Even three weeks ago, odds were Taylor Gillis would be looking for Brandt--his failure to make the mistakes his fellow quants made frustrated her. With nothing to bully him about, she simply piled twice as much work on Brandt as she did his coworkers, hoping to trip him up with volume. None of her tactics had worked--not in the five months Brandt had been at Dandridge, Samuels, Woodbury, and Gillis Wealth Management Partners. But after what he'd done at last week's partners' meeting, no one had any doubt who she would be looking for.
Taylor didn't even look at him anymore. Just dropped the large stack of files and instructions and stalked off in the other direction before announcing to her waiting boyfriend, some utterly forgettable hedge fund manager who looked like a football player but didn't talk about anything that wasn't covered in the financial pages, that she was ready to go out to dinner.
Brandt snapped his computer screen back on and sent a quick email to Susan that he wouldn't be by that night. She wasn't waiting for him, of course. She had her own life and what they had was merely a convenient friends-with-benefits arrangement that suited them both. Next, he turned to the stack of papers Taylor had left. The worst of it was he could be done with it in an hour, error-free and ready for the full Gillis shake-down treatment, but since it would take the best of the other quants a full three hours to work through the stack, he was stuck here for that long, dragging out the work in between bouts of thinking about home and wondering how he had gotten himself in this mess.
The magicking mess was easy. If Zia hadn't been there, watching Ainsley, enthralled by his claims, Brandt would have kept his mouth shut. He thought he had learned his lesson from the furor that had erupted the first time he had broken the rules about staying within your age group's approved skills, even if your abilities had already progressed beyond them. But when the girl you wanted to marry was looking that way at another guy, well, logic sometimes went out the window. The mess with Taylor was equally simple. In the time since he'd started with the wealth management firm, he'd never seen her be anything but rude, condescending, and demeaning to anyone who wasn't a partner or one of the rich old birds they helped make richer. The receptionist, the quants, the secretaries, the janitor, even the doorman, were either ignored or abused by her razor-sharp tongue, depending which of the two wrong sides of her bed she woke up on that morning. Of all the valuable lessons he had learned from his father, one of those he held closest was that the possession of power obligated one to act with care and concern for those one outranked. And from a woman who offered nothing as far as he could see but the fact that her rich family knew a slew of other rich people who were willing to put their estates in the hands of the firm because she worked there, because they golfed with her father or played tennis with her mother, or belonged to the same asinine clubs or secret societies, well, he only had so much self-control.
His disgust with her had been rising almost since the first day, and it hadn't been helped along by her constant taking credit for other people's work and trashing them when she couldn't. So when she'd unveiled a new trading strategy at weekly team meeting, which she'd made a point of saying she'd developed all on her own, he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Well, actually, he did keep his mouth shut, since he saw the problem on the third page of the Excel spreadsheet being projected onto the wall, but waited until page 16 to say anything. "Excuse me, Ms. Gillis," he'd said ever-so-politely, "I think there is a small mistake in your scenario. On page 3, you listed selling Eagle Industries when it went to $5 a share, but they did a three-for-one reverse stock split last week."
"Well, we only have a small position in Eagle," she'd responded testily. "I'll make the change, but it shouldn't affect the model much." He'd seen a few of the quants look to the side as they bit down on their lips, anticipating what was about to happen. Taylor jumped back to page three, made the change, and started clicking forward through the pages of numbers as the complex financial models underlying them recalibrated. As she clicked through the document, the spreadsheets updated based on the radically different stock value and the position that was larger than Taylor thought, row upon row and column upon column changing from black to red. Not all red, but when she finally stopped clicking on page nine, it looked to be running at least 60 percent losses.
"You fucking prick," she'd hissed at him, "I'll get you for this," before the meeting was abruptly adjourned, and Samuels, who was a pretty okay guy for a partner, hurried him out of the room. She'd made good on her promise though. She couldn't fire him, because she wasn't his boss and even after a few months there his value to the company was more than proven. But for three weeks, she had proven she could make him miserable, piling him high with work most nights at quitting time and saving the most mind-numbing and tedious jobs exclusively for him.
Brandt set another folder in the completed pile, and then contemplated the calendar again. October 31 was just a few days away, maybe, just maybe. . . He knew they kept an eye on him, making sure he didn't use any of his abilities, but with All Hallows Eve coming up, that would be harder to do. Witches, warlocks, magickers, clairvoyants, elves, Little People, people who could speak with the dead and people who were, at least by the definition of his current plane of existence, dead, slipped out of place, into planes like this one where things like those didn't exist except in imitation. In a city like New York on October 31, the energy created by the one small spell that was clearly taking shape in his mind would fall like a raindrop into the ocean, unnoticed by anyone but himself and Taylor Gillis, and for her, when it was all over, it would seem like a foggy, half-forgotten dream. By the time he finished with the last file and returned it to Taylor's office, his plan had taken shape.
Walking back to his apartment, he shook his head ruefully at the Harry Potter marathon being advertised at the movie theater down the block from his apartment. He imagined that there were some schools like that somewhere--Latin spells and eyes of newt and all that bit--but it would only play as a comedy where he was from. Every man--and a few women--had the ability to magic, but no one went to school for it. You went to school to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic, and later to get a degree in whatever profession you planned to pursue. Magicking was just a skill one developed, with age and practice, a matter of learning to focus the mind to use that energy to reprogram reality. No magic wands or fancy cloaks needed.
What Brandt did need was something to hold the magic he would make. The Saturday before Halloween, he stopped into an upscale pawn shop, the sort of place where people who had once had money went to sell their things when the cash ran low. There were cases and cases of jewelry, old wedding rings, pieces glittering with precious stones. He moved slowly down the row until he found exactly what he was looking for. A simple rectangle of platinum, the edges slightly rounded, hung from a platinum chain. It was delicate enough for a woman's neck, but didn't look fragile. Perfect. He paid and took it home before meeting his friend Susan for dinner and a roll in the sheets. As he lay beside her afterwards, sated, feeling happier than he could remember feeling since he came to this place, he thought of how different Monday night with Taylor was going to be.
Taylor found the elegant velvet box next to her keyboard when she came back from a late lunch on the 31st. With a full inbox from just about every quant in the department, plus at least two partners she was pretty sure wanted in her pants, it was impossible to know if it was from someone in the office or a gift her boyfriend Steve had had delivered. The card that read "Trick or Treat" wasn't any clue; it was printed, not handwritten. As she slid her finger across the smooth platinum pendant, she felt a shiver of she didn't know what: energy? electricity? All she knew was that she needed to put it on.