DEATH EMPRESS - JACK WILDER [1]

1: The Empress

     Stanley shakes his head disappointingly, the audience beginning to feel unimpressed. I pretend to be shocked and upset with myself, holding up the queen of hearts for everyone to see.

    "Stanley, I want you to look me in the eyes and focus on your card. Have you got it in your head?"

     "Yes," he replies.

     "Take this card," I hand him over the card facing upwards, slowly turning it over in his hand so that he can be positive it is the same card he is about to flip over. "Give it a little shake, however long you'd like. Then when you're done, just turn it over."

     Stanley follows my instructions, watching me the whole time. He then flips the card over, scrunching his eyebrows when he sees that it is still the queen of hearts, with the exception of two names scribbled on the top.

     "Can you read what it says?" I ask of him.

     "Jessica and Nick," he replies, looking back at the two children who now have giant grins on their baby faces.

     "Your children?" I ask and he nods. "Well, let's bring them over here. They can help me out."

     The two children race over, the audience puzzled by how the card was magically inked with two names of two people I have never before met in my life.

     I crouch down to meet the children at eye level. "Now, Jessica and Nick, the card picked you two to be my little assistants because I need your help. Your dad here picked a real stubborn card and it doesn't want to be found, but you two can change that. All you need to do is put your hands together like this."

     I carefully grab both of their dainty hands by the wrists, opening them and making them connect with their palms. They can't seem to hide the giggles in their systems.

     "Now, I want you two to concentrate," I tell them, standing back up as the audience is once again intrigued. "This will only work if you believe in magic. You believe in magic, don't you?"

     They both nodded excitedly, never separating their palms.

     "Then I need you to think about that," I say. "Think about magic. On the count of three, separate your hands and I think you'll find something interesting."

     Everyone gets quiet as my voice counts up from one. When I reach three, the two children waste no time in taking their hands apart, Jessica peeling off a single playing card from her sweaty hand.

     "Is that your card, Stanley?" I ask him as Jessica hands him the seven of diamonds.

     Stanley laughs. "Yeah, it is."

     The crowd begins to cheer, a terrible trick transforming into a brilliant illusion. Though most people seem to have enjoyed it, there's also going to be that one person that wants to ruin it for everyone else.

     "Oh, come on!" Some random guy in the crowd shouts. "You expect us to believe in this crap? You used little kids as your volunteers! They're easy to trick."

     Everyone looks back at the guy and gives him snarky looks, and as I look down at the kids they both pout and Nick looks like he wants to cry. I feel enraged as I stomp over to the guy in the crowd, people stepping away so I can get to him faster.

     I stand in front of him and stare, him obviously not afraid of me. However, I see his eyes focus on mine and then take notice of all my features: my nose, my cheekbones, my lips, my eyebrows. His eyes widen, his own control disappearing before him.

     "Why do you like being a sardonic asshole?" I ask him, everyone watching us carefully.

     "It makes me feel in control," he admits.

     I scoff. "That's not very nice, is it?" He shakes his head. "Apologize to those kids."

     The guy looks behind me and says, "I'm sorry, kids." Then he looks at me again. Thankfully, when I do this thing that I do to people, it makes them look nonchalant and not like they're puppets attached to strings.

     "Go to the nearest library and rent a book on how to be a decent human being," I say, turning away from him as he begins to walk in the direction of the library. "Wait," I tell him, turning back around. "These kids look like they're burning up...why don't you buy them some ice cream?"

     "That's a good idea," he says, taking out his wallet.

     I smile sarcastically. "Yeah, it is."

     I don't ignore the pats on my back or the handshakes offered to me as I walk away, but I do reject any money handed to me. Anytime someone asks me how did you do it? I give them each the same answer: It's simple. Magic.

     I make my way back to the parking garage, accidentally bumping into a random guy in a hoodie who I didn't see as he somehow came out of nowhere. I turn around to give him my apologies, but he is long gone before I can even muster a word out. I shake my head and think nothing of it.

     I reach into the pocket of my leather jacket to retrieve the keys to my rather expensive vehicle, my fingers fumbling through gum wrappers and small amounts of change. I tilt my head as I grab ahold of something unfamiliar in my hands, taking it out to observe.

     "What the hell?" I whisper to myself, finding a tarot card in my hand. The Empress is printed on the bottom, a drawing of a gorgeous woman sitting on a luxurious throne. Her white robe is caressed by delicate flowers that loom to the ground, a field of wheat low by her feet. I turn it over to find a date, a place, and a time.

MARCH 29

4:44 PM

45 EAST EVANS ST

NY NY

     "Creepy," I say, shaking my head and sticking the card back in my jacket. I unlock my car and sit myself in, shutting the door next to me. I grab my coffee from the cup holder and bring it to my lips, nearly choking mid-sip as I make some connections and realize what the card really is.

     I take it back out, examining it once again as I glance over every little detail. In a short moment I become obsessed with the card, wondering how I will be able to contain my excitement for the next three days. I caress the card in my hand, laughing giddily as I place it on the passengers seat and buckle the seatbelt for my own amusement. I start the ignition of my car, creating scenarios in my head of what will soon begin to consume my life.