The Magic Within

Grace had been stapling papers for the past thirty minutes. I swore to God if she didn't stop within five,

I'd

staple her perfect little manicured hands to her desk. I had had two cups of decaffeinated tea this morning and a fifteen minute walk around the MMG building, but I was still jittery, unable to focus on prepping the client account for the department meeting next week.

In the cubicle next to me, Miguel typed away on his keyboard, oblivious to my suffering, white earbuds nestled in his ears. I could hear him faintly humming along to the music as he worked. I could usually count on him to commiserate with me when one of our coworkers was being annoying, but it looked like today I was on my own.

I sighed, pulling up my Internet browser to peruse the news. Nothing good ever happened in the world on a Tuesday morning. That's what my mother always said.

"Cara!"

I jumped. Jodee, the office manager, was making her way toward me, a sheaf of papers clutched in one arm. For a woman in her early forties, she looked older, probably due to the four or so smoke breaks she'd been taking every day for the past ten years.

And she still takes an hour lunch

.

"Hi, Jodee," I greeted. "Everything all right?"

"Come see me in my office, will you?" she breezed past me, leaving a cloud of cloying perfume in her wake.

My shoulders hunched but I somehow managed to hold in the gagging. "Sure, give me a minute."

She had a bright corner office, but the shades were drawn against the afternoon sunlight, bringing some relief to the newly upholstered armchairs in front of her modest desk. I sat on the edge of one gingerly, trying to not to show how anxious I felt.

Jodee set the paper on her desk and tapped her keyboard to wake up her laptop. "I wanted to ask if you'd followed up with Carson from EdgeLife. They've been anxious to get numbers back from us for a while now. Aren't you the lead for that?"

"Yes. I forwarded their request to Michael, he was supposed to brief them on their status before transferring them over to me." I had cc'd her on the email last week. She clearly hadn't read it.

Jodee squinted at me. "I see. And did you follow up with Michael?"

I shook my head.

Her features took on a softer bent. "Cara, as Lead, you should be following up on these things. Are you able to keep up with your duties?"

Aw, crap. "I am," I assured her, "I just thought Michael would get back to them promptly, and it slipped my mind."

"Performance reviews are around the corner, you know," Jodee hinted, leaning forward on her desk. "You've missed some important company emails lately and forgot to dial in for a call with Onyx last week." Onyx was MMG's largest client.

"I know, I'm sorry about that. I've been going through some changes in my personal life. It's been a little rocky, but things are starting to straighten themselves out. It won't happen again," I said firmly, trying to look convincing. Jodee was not my direct superior, but her position as office manager lent her some degree of oversight for the staff working on my floor. I personally believed she didn't give a rat's ass about anything we did, unless it made her look bad.

If she noticed the bags under my eyes, or my lackluster complexion, she chose to ignore it. I'd slept about three hours last night after talking with Rex, waking up about every thirty or so minutes, and that was

after

taking two doses of melanin. I hope it wasn't going to be a recurring pattern. No person could function properly on so little sleep.

"We do have a wellness counselor if you need to talk to them," Jodee said, surprising me. She didn't look the least concerned. "Transitions can be stressful."

"Thanks, I'll think about it." I got up, sensing the finality of our meeting in her tone. As I reached for the door knob, I felt a zap of electricity hit the back of my neck. A shiver took hold of my shoulders, like a dusting of snow on bare skin. It cascaded over my body, falling in a cool shimmer down to my toes. The air in my lungs felt like ice. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a frozen lake, and all around me the world was blanketed in snow.

The strange sensation left within the span of a heartbeat, fizzling out like sparklers. But it had left something behind. Several somethings, in fact.

Jodee. Steel. Momentum. Bodies colliding.

"Yes?" the office manager prompted, seeing me pause.

"Sorry," I chirped, closing the door behind me.

***

"I think I'm losing my mind." I rubbed my eyes, hunched forward over my knees. "I'm hearing things, having weird dreams, forgetting things. I'm not

that

old to already be having dementia." I morosely watched the ducks paddling in Hawthorne lake, sitting on a bench in the shade of a tall oak. Across the lake was Hunter Boulevard and my apartment complex, Ashbrook Studios.

Mary-Anne shifted next to me, the smell of orange chicken permeating the still air as she popped a morsel into her mouth with bamboo chopsticks.

"I haven't had a decent night's sleep that I can remember, either." I made a self-pitying noise. "Mary-Anne, you've got to help me."

"Eat your noodles," was all she said.

I made a face at her but dutifully picked up the box beside me. I wasn't very hungry, but it was my first meal all day, so I shoved a helping of noodles into my mouth and chewed.

"Tell me about these dreams," Mary-Anne said, turning to face me. I rolled my eyes. Why did everyone seem so interested in my dreams? "I'm serious!" she insisted. "Maybe they mean something, you know?"

I scrunched my face up. "I don't know, they're all dark and scary. There's fire and lots of yelling." I couldn't keep the sadness from my voice. "I wake up crying."

"Oh, wow..." her voice trailed off. She looked at me worriedly. "Are those the only ones?"

"Yes."

Well, except for the sex fantasy-memories of Rex that randomly pop into my head.

"Well, I'm sure they'll go away, eventually."

"It's starting to affect my work. I got called into Jodee's office today."

"Cara!"

I pursed my lips, unhappy with myself. My head was throbbing. I took another bite from my carton, chiding myself for not eating all day, which probably contributed to why I felt so tired.

Mary-Anne shifted on the bench next to me. "Maybe you should stay with me for a while until you feel better. You're break up with Matt, moving to a new place across town, and now this work stuff—I think it's too much for you right now"

"I paid three months' rent to move here, I'm

not

moving out."

"Fuck the money! Who cares how much it cost, this is your mental health we're talking about." Mary-Anne tossed her empty Chinese carton in the trash. "I'm not going to stand by and watch my best friend devolve into a—a crazy person!"

"I'm not going to devolve into a crazy person," I muttered unconvincingly. I took one last bite of my lo mein and closed the carton, getting up as well.

The light was gone by now, and with it, the oppressive heat of the afternoon. The moon shone high above us, filtering through the leaves from the oak trees. Traffic on Hunter had thinned as people hurried home to their families, the sounds of the street muffled by the hedges as we walked, getting closer to the main road. We only just passed through a moon gate made of white brick and covered over with ivy when the temperature noticeably dropped several degrees.

"Do you feel that?" I asked, goosebumps dotting my arms and legs. We stopped beneath a street lamp. Beyond the hedges, a taxi honked.

"Come on," Mary-Anne said. She took my arm and pulled me down the path. We were almost running now.

"Mary-Anne, what's going on?" I asked. My take-out bag slapped uselessly against my thigh as we jogged.

"We need to get out of here." She sounded scared. "We need—

shit.

" She careened to a halt.

On the path in front of us was a patch of gray fog. I could see through it to the street beyond, a haven of bright lights and people. There was a body in the mist, a small black thing close to the ground. Spindles were twisting out of it to touch the ground, one by one.

Legs.

Those were legs.

Each point of contact sent a needle of fear into my chest. The body was moving, spinning the mist like spider web around itself, gaining mass, willing itself into existence like thread on a loom.

"What is that?" I whispered.

Mary-Anne's grip on my arm hurt. "We have to get out of here," she repeated, in a voice I had never heard her use before.

We turned and ran back the way we had come. We didn't get very far.

I was knocked to the ground before moving two steps. My chin scraped the pavement. I was afraid the thing had grabbed my legs, but I wiggled them to find they were free-moving. Mary-Anne was standing in front of me in a half-crouch.

"Stay away from her!" she yelled, anger and fear in her voice. The leaves rustled on the hedges. I looked to where the fog and the black body had been, but they were gone.

If she expected an answer from it, she got none.

It barreled into me from the side. I skidded about a dozen feet on the lawn, leaves kicking up in my wake. It happened so quickly I couldn't react or even get a thought in. And then something was on my chest, and everywhere

hurt.

I screamed, feeling pain reverberating down my front. It was clawing at my insides, scooping up giant hunks of flesh. I lost the ability to breathe as my lungs caved. And then I couldn't even scream anymore.

***

My senses flickered back one by one. Sounds came first. Crying, off to my right. Gravel crunching under tires on the street not eight yards away. I could feel the ground beneath me. My head hurt. The sensation of breathing came next: shallow, fragile breaths. My thoughts gathered.

I didn't want to feel the pain, was afraid of it. But it never came. My chest and front, which had moments before been rended wide, instead felt warm and whole. The aches and pains were gone, replaced by a sweet nothingness.

"She's breathing. Let's get her inside." Strong hands moved beneath me and lifted me up. My head lolled against a hard chest.

"Be careful!" Mary-Anne cried.

After much walking and jostling, I was lowered gently onto a couch and left there, a knit throw placed carefully over my legs. I could hear their voices not far off. It had been Rex out there in the park, I was sure of it. How had he gotten there? Concentrating on their voices proved to be a difficult feat, since my head still hurt like hell.

I must have nodded off, because when I came to, my joints hurt. The clock on the wall said it was nearly midnight.

"—didn't know what it was." Mary-Anne's voice was slightly muffled, but still close by. "It might have been a tracer. Which means she's starting to leak."

"She's been leaking for a while now," another voice corrected. Marabelle. She said something else I couldn't catch. "—to remember."

With great effort I pulled myself up into a sitting position. I was in Rex's apartment, sitting on that familiar gray couch. I felt like throwing up. Gingerly, I looked down at my chest. My clothes were intact, and an initial sweep with a trembling hand revealed no wounds or blood. My slacks were smeared with dirt though, and my blouse was ripped at the sleeve. I wondered if my take-out was in the fridge.

"Cara! Thank God you're awake," Mary-Anne exclaimed, coming out from the adjoining room. She sat next to me on the couch. Her eyes were red from crying and she looked absolutely terrible.

"What happened?" My voice was raw. I looked at Mary-Anne with a mix of confusion and fear, the faint tang of copper in the back of my throat. Again, I looked down at my hands and my shirt. Why had I expected my clothes to be bloody?

Mary-Anne bit her lip and looked at Marabelle, who raised her hands, palms out. "She's your friend, chica. Good luck with that." She went into the kitchen and began to take out fixings for a sandwich. The clock above the fridge told me it was a little past nine o'clock.

"Thanks," Mary-Anne bit out sarcastically.

I frowned, looking between the two of them. "Do you two know each other?"

Mary-Anne tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear, staring at her feet. "Not in the strictest sense," she started, her voice lacking its usual confidence. "We work for the same company."

"Why are you lying to me?" Anger was about the only emotion I could manage right now without breaking down completely.

"I'm sorry! I can't tell you anything if you don't remember!" Mary-Anne cried.

"Don't remember what? The thing that attacked us? Of course I remember that!"

"No, I mean everything else! If you don't remember the rest of your past, we can't tell you or else we might...we might screw you up somehow."

"What are you talking about?"

Marabelle crunched into a pickle and returned the jar to the fridge. She came to sit across from me, pushing a plate holding a second sandwich toward me, along with a glass of water. Her unruffled demeanor scared me.

I tried again. "What does my—my past have to do with what happened in the park?" No one answered. "Shouldn't we call the police?" I prompted. "It could hurt others."

"It won't," Marabelle finally spoke up around a mouthful of bread. "It was looking for you."

Mary-Anne handed me the sandwich by my glass but I ignored it. "Please tell me what is going on," I said, my voice trembling in spite of myself.

"I told you, we can't..." Mary-Anne's voice trailed off at the glare I sent her way. "Cara, I'm doing the best I can, okay? I don't know what I'm allowed to say and I don't want to freak you out." She turned to Marabelle. "You know, Mara, it wouldn't hurt for you to chime in."

"Rex will be back soon, he's better at this stuff than I am," the woman said simply, licking crumbs off her fingers. She paused. "But you're doing pretty well, considering," she acknowledged, before turning to me.

"What attacked you in the park," Marabelle said, her voice steady, "was a tracer. It's a scent-bearing demon. Those things latch onto a person's smell and tracks them until they are found. The targets are usually killed. You're lucky Rex got there when he did. Mary-Anne was not equipped to protect you."

Mary-Anne did not protest. Marabelle's words explained a portion of the night's events, but there were too many questions left unanswered. Such as, how did one of my best friends know Rex and Marabelle? And if that thing really was a demon—if such things existed—why was it after me?

Before I could ask those very questions, the front door opened and Rex entered, raindrops dotting the shoulders of his black leather jacket. He was holding a styrofoam coffee cup in one hand.

"Look what the devil dragged in," Marabelle drawled. I remembered then how much I disliked her. "I believe your services are needed over here, Regis."

Rex peeled himself out of his jacket, the material catching on his arms, giving us a generous view of taut muscle and thin shirt.

"What's that?" he asked, coming to stand by Marabelle. He took in the scene before him, noting the set in my jaw and Mary-Anne's helpless expression. I detected a hint of irritation on his face that was quickly masked.

"She has questions that I think are better left for you to answer," was all Marabelle said. She took her plate to the kitchen. "Mary-Anne, you're welcome to stay the night if you want, but Cara will stay with us."

"No, it's okay, I'll head back," my friend said, taking the hint. She squeezed my hand. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah. Yes, of course," I said, so she wouldn't fret. "I'll be fine. Thanks for...for being there for me." It was a stupid thing to say but I didn't know how to express my gratitude.

Mary-Anne didn't look happy. "I should have done more."

"Stop beating yourself up," I ordered, finally taking a bite of the sandwich. "I'm in one piece, and so are you, and that's all that matters." I walked her to the door, pointedly ignoring Marabelle and Rex. "Text me when you get home, okay?"

After seeing Mary-Anne off, I returned to the living room to find Rex waiting for me. Marabelle was nowhere to be seen. I suppressed a sigh. I didn't particularly want to be alone with Rex, in much the same way a recovering alcoholic doesn't want to be left alone with a bottle of liquor. I reassessed exactly how badly I wanted answers.

"Do you want to sit down?" Rex asked, but his expression was closed off.

"I'll stand, thanks." I came around the bar and leaned against the divider with my arms crossed.

Rex studied me, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You might want to sit."

I pursed my lips. He had saved my life tonight. The least I could do was be civil and listen to what he had to say.

I refilled my glass of water and sank onto the couch, forcing away memories of his body pressed against mine, his fingers under the over-sized shirt he'd given me to replace my soaked dress.

He wasn't thinking, Cara,

I reminded myself.

He apologized that morning.

A small part of me wished he

hadn't

been asleep when he felt me up. Ugh. I was pathetic.

"So. First things first. Do you remember anything?"

"Yes," I said slowly, thinking about my conversation with Mary-Anne and Marabelle. "I mean...I think I do. We had dinner in Hawthorne Park—"

Rex's face screwed up. Immediately, I could see I had said something wrong.

"What do you remember starting three years ago and thinking back?"

"What?" I asked stupidly.

"Your memories," Rex said patiently. "What do you remember about your family and friends, where you lived...?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Shadows from the trees outside danced across the stark white wall behind Rex. "Wait a second. Is this about my supposed amnesia? I thought Mary-Anne was joking."

"She wasn't." Rex's voice was unusually bereft of emotion. "You lost your memories three years ago, in New York City."

"I've never been to New York City," I told him calmly. "I also remember everything about my life since I was a little kid. Sorry to disappoint you," I added as an afterthought, "but I think you're confusing me with someone else."

He shook his head. "No, I'm not, Cara. What you remember about your life before coming to Seattle is not real. Those are fake memories patchworked over the holes. It happens sometimes, when people experience severe memory loss."

Rex reached for his cup of coffee and settled back into his armchair, taking a sip.

"I lived with my parents in Boston," I explained. Maybe if I told him a little bit more about myself he'd realize he was mistaken. "I moved to Seattle for a job opportunity three years ago." As I spoke, my voice faltered. I felt a strange patina over those memories that I had not noticed before. Had it always been there? They felt...brittle, somehow. Like opaque ice covering a lake.

"Listen to your intuition. What does it tell you?"

I gave him a measured look.

"It's telling me you are being ridiculous." But I remembered the dream I'd had in his apartment that night, a dream filled with dark grey mists, shadowy figures and sorrow. Dread filled the pit of my stomach like black tar.

"Do you think what happened in the park tonight was ridiculous?" His tone was remarkably even, as though we were discussing the weather. "What did you think attacked you, a raccoon with wings?"

My brows pinched, not liking the subtle dig.

"I'm trying to help you." Rex took another pull from his coffee. "Let's try something different. When was the last time you called your parents?"

"I...I don't know." How odd was it that I couldn't remember when I last spoke to my parents? I could see them clearly in my mind's eye, though—my dad with his gray hair, just starting to bald and a mole under his chin and my mom, still a brunette, wearing her reading glasses and favorite purple and gray sweater.