The Magician's Assistant

"I can still kill myself," I recalled. But I still wasn't sure that would thwart him. Only as a last resort, I reasoned a moment later. Give yourself a chance to find another way.

I stood and began to pace. "Talk yourself through it," I said. "You've found holes in his words before." My mind went to the toilet, where the necklace rested, then to the sink where I had discovered I could cut myself, and finally to the bathtub where I had masturbated before I knew what the word meant.

What are my rules again?

In the manner they always did, the words that bound me, my words, rushed to the forefront of my consciousness. I went over them again and again, seeking weakness, wiggle room, but every time I did so, my shoulders and my spirit sank just a shade lower.

My lowered eyes found the balcony, but a step away, yet a step I could not take without his permission. In that moment, my head jerked upright.

Does it have to be his permission? My mind raced to my words. Maybe I can get someone else to give me permission! I shook my head. My shoulders sagged. I sighed. No. I'd have to communicate first, and I'm not allowed to do that either.

For a few seconds I just sat, breathed and looked out the door. Then my eyes came up, wide. I looked out the door, but my focus was well beyond the balcony. Standing, I walked to the edge of the threshold. There I cycled a huge breath and said in the firmest voice I could muster, "I give myself permission to leave this apartment anytime I please."

Chewing my lower lip, I extended my toes outward, certain any moment would be the last moment I could move them. But that moment never came. My foot came down outside of the door. I yanked it back as if I had been burned. Eyes wide, I repeated the experiment. This time my other foot followed and I danced on the balcony, freer than I'd ever felt before.

My hands were shaking when I walked back into the living room. "Calm down," I said, "You don't have time to panic." I looked to the clock. It was almost noon. I looked to the front door. The freedom of pure flight beckoned.

"But where would I go?" I wondered aloud. A second later I shook my head and attempted to steady my nerve with yet another huge breath. "I'm going to the goddamn hardware store. That's where I'm going."

Five minutes later I was dressed and in the elevator, holding my breath that the doors would not part to reveal Gino. With no sign of my captor, I exhaled a sigh and strolled across the lobby.

The doormen gave me a polite nod as I approached. "Good afternoon, Miss," he said, holding the portal for me.

I opened my mouth to thank him, but my tongue would not move. My eyes angled downward toward my treasonous tongue, then I laughed and shook my head. "Of course," I mumbled. "I give myself permission to communicate with anyone I want."

"Beg your pardon, Miss?"

"Nothing," I said, snapping my eyes to the doorman. "I was just thinking out loud. Can you please tell me where the nearest hardware store would be?"

"Certainly!" He led me to the sidewalk and pointed. "Go to James Street and take a right. It's between Eighth and Ninth, if memory serves."

"Is it close? I only have an hour."

"It's a dozen blocks maybe. Should take you twenty minutes each way. "

"Thank you," I said before scurrying away.

"My pleasure, Miss." he called after me.

With my lean legs churning over the concrete, I made the trip in fifteen minutes.

The modest store was empty and I browsed less than a minute before the young clerk came from behind the counter. "May I help you find something?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "Just looking." Having no money, my intention was to pocket whatever tool I did find. I wandered away from him hoping that would be the end of it and he would leave me be.

Instead, he followed. "Perhaps if you'd give me a hint I can point you in the right direction?"

I spun to face him and pointed to my necklace. "Ok. I want something to crush one of these diamonds."

His eyes widened. "You want to smash one of your diamonds?"

"That what I said."

He shrugged. "I should think a hammer would work." He started to turn. "They're over..."

"No," I said, stopping him in his tracks. "It has to stay on my neck while I do it. And I can't break the gold band either."

His brow fell. His head tilted to one side. "Excuse me?"

My eyes strayed. I cycled a breath, then snapped my focus back to him. "It's for a wager."

"Oh," he said with a nod. "I see." He brought his fist to his face and chewed the end of his thumb. His eyes drifted upward. He began to nod. "Yes!" he said, snapping the thumb from his lips and his forefinger to the air. "I know just the thing. Follow me."

He turned and strode down the aisle with me in tow. Stopping some dozen paces later he stooped to retrieve an item from the lowest shelf. When he stood, he presented a curved metal jaw closed by a threaded rod. "How about this?"

"What is it?"

"A C-clamp."

I took the tool and spun the handle with my finger. My eyes followed the rod as it slid toward the jaw. "It just might work."

"I think it might."

My eyes darted back to the clerk. An instant later my hand and the clamp therein shot toward him as well. "Will you try it?"

"Me?"

"Yes?"

"Here?"

I smiled and nodded. "Yes, please."

"I thought you said it was for a bet?"

"It is," I insisted. "And I want to be sure I'll win."

The lad's throat pulsed with a swallow. "Ok," he said, accepting the clamp. "You really want me to smash your diamonds?"

"I do!"

He gulped again. "Ok." His eyes locked on my neck, he brought the clamp upward.

With my heart pounding within my chest, I looked down in time to see one of his hands disappear beneath my chin, bringing the chill of the metal to my neck. Please, I begged, Please let it work.

I watched his other hand I could see spin the handle for a few seconds, then tighten into a fist about the rod. With a grunt and he looked back to my face. "You're sure?"

"Yes! Do it."

"Ok." His eyes went back to my neck. His tongue parted his lips. His features twisted. He issued another grunt. I heard a grinding, yet another grunt, and then a crunch.

He backed his head an inch farther away, then nodded and pulled the clamp from my neck. "I think that's got it."

My finger rushed to necklace, but still I could not touch it. I exhaled a sigh of disgust through my nose. "Do you have a mirror?"

"In the washroom."

"Where?"

He pointed. "Back corner."

"Thank you!"

I ran to the tiny room. Facing the mirror, I lifted my jaw and looked at the neckpiece, focusing on the mangled setting containing but a few shards of a once-beautiful gem. My lips curved upward, but I didn't see them; I was already rushing back to the clerk.

"Please do the rest!" I insisted.

"But ... "

"Please!"

"Ok," he stammered. "Ok."

Once again, he brought the clamp to my throat. I closed my eyes and listened to the exquisite crunch of gemstones shattering. Upon crushing the third diamond, my shoulder crept upward- not even an inch, but I noticed it. I moved my hand to the necklace, inhaling a crisp breath as my fingers met the jewels. Unable to believe what was happening, I withdrew shaking hand and watched while the clerk continued his work.

Several stones later I found I could touch the latch, but not open it. This changed after he'd shattered half the gems, but I could only open the necklace, I was still unable to lift the band from my throat.

Only when the lad had crushed every stone did the enchantment at last relent; the necklace slid from my neck into my waiting fingers. With a smile, I relaxed my grip and watched the mangled gold band fall to the wooden floor. I moved my foot over the remnants of the necklace. My nose wrinkled. With my teeth clamped upon my lower lip, I brought my shoe down, grinding the gold into the planks.

When I removed my foot several seconds later, my teeth and lower lip parted form a broad smile. My eyes closed. I sighed. My hands rushed to my neck where ,y palms sampled the warmth of my naked flesh. Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you."

"It was nothing," the clerk replied. "You want it, then?"

My eyes snapped open. I looked down to the crushed pieces of gold scattered about my feet. "Want it?"

"The clamp?"

"Oh," I said, looking back to the tool with a grin. I considered my options. High on the list was running, running fast and never looking back. But as my eyes wandered the shelves of tools and nails and plumbing fittings, my thoughts went to another hardware store. Running ceased to be an option.

With my lips pressed against one another, I determined to go back to the apartment and don the second necklace, the gemstones of which I might also need to crush. "Yes," I said. "I better take it."

The clerk flipped the tool over in his hand. His eyes went to the tag, then to mine. "Forty-nine cents."

I inhaled and held a breath, then closed my eyes and laughed at myself. Of course, I still didn't have a penny. A moment later my eyes opened. My tongue played across my lips, then the ends of those lips curved upward. I bounced my eyebrows. "Do you know what a blowjob is?"

The young man's eyes widened. His head moved in a slow nod.

I snatched the clamp and held it before him. "I'll give you one in trade for this clamp."

His jaw fell. His eyes all but popped out of his head.

"And a quarter," I added.

Ten minutes later I skipped my way back to the apartments, a smile on my face, a clamp in one hand, and a Hershey bar in the other. I may have been the worst paid whore in all of New York, but I was certainly the happiest.

* * *

"Found the hardware store, Miss?"

"Yes," I said with a smile, waiting for the doorman to hold the portal open for me. "Thank you."

He bowed his head. "My pleasure, Miss."

I had taken but two steps into the lobby before I stopped and turned "Oh," I prompted, waiting for the man to look my way. "I'm planning a special surprise for my husband, so please don't mention seeing me."

He smiled. "Your secret's safe with me."

Back in my washroom I looked to the mirror, watching my chest rise and fall with my breathing while I gathered my courage. Then I watched my hands creep upward, taking a cold, wet string of jewels toward my neck.

With my new necklace secured, I ran to the balcony doors. There I again chewed my lower lip and pushed my toe beyond the threshold, with the same result. I afforded myself a few minutes on the terrace, savoring the view of the oceans, the wind in my hair, and the blessed feeling that the body in which I found myself was at least mine to do with as I wished.

Then I went back inside and started dinner.

When I afforded Gino his privileges that evening, he gave not the slightest hint that he noticed I wore a different necklace. I spent the following day searching the apartment for anything I could use, my mind turning over the many ways I might kill him.

My quest included a trip into the magician's secret room. I expected to find something akin to Frankenstein's lab but instead a tidy library greeted my eyes when I opened the door. There was a table in the middle, an old oaken one, but it was covered by a few scattered papers rather than test tubes and Bunsen burners.

I glanced over the papers and then pulled several books from the shelves, but to my dismay not one of them was in English. I did find some test tubes in a cabinet, but the labels were also in a foreign language and their contents resembled spices rather than bat wings and newt eyes. The neatness of the chamber convinced me to disturb it no further lest the magician notice my trespass and realize I was no longer his pawn.

By Friday afternoon, I had decided to kill Gino in his sleep Monday night and then Thomas the following day before the wedding. The details of how I would accomplish this were far from clear, and I hadn't even begun to imagine how I might escape the law afterward; not that I cared, so long as Megan was free. In the end, I had too many options and I had yet to settle upon a firm plan when Saturday, and our performance, arrived.

* * *

"I agree, Christine!" the magician called above the audience's laughter. "You should go change!"

Clasping my palms over my navel, I feigned embarrassment and dashed for the curtains. Just beyond the fabric divider, I stopped to catch my breath. Though my sex still tingled from voltage of the sawing box, my mind was already looking ahead to Monday night.

"And now," Gino announced to the crowd. "I shall pull a rabbit out of my hat."

I paused and looked to the curtain. By that time, I'd come to know every line of the performance, but I still didn't know where the rabbit came from. Deciding I had a moment to spare, I parted the fabric enough to bring my eyes to bear on the magician.

"Pocus di Hocus," he continued. "Venuto avanti dal mio manicotto poche lepri"

A white bunny leapt from his sleeve onto the box top. He put his hand to his chest, then turned to the audience. Everyone laughed as he hurried to stuff the bunny into the hat only to have it leap from his other sleeve. A larger roar of amusement swept the crowd.

"Bear with me," he stammered. "I've never done this without my assistant." He stuffed the bunny back in the hat, only to stand erect, leaving the headgear sitting on the box. Oh, wait, what have we here? A new assistant perhaps?"

My brow dropped upon hearing the unfamiliar words.

Gino stalked away from the sawing box, his hands waving before him as he chanted. "Tiro, ragazza insensata. Tiro!"

I heard the audience gasp in unison. Adjusting the curtains, I shifted my attention in the direction the magician gestured. What I saw caused me to gasp as well.

Not five feet from Gino, just visible above the edge of the stage, I saw a face. I recognized it at once in spite of the surrounding frame of limp blanched strands. It was my face; Megan's O'Reilly's lovely round face. In spite of my astonishment, my eyes did not long linger on the girl's countenance or her locks, for there was a bigger surprise in her shaking hands; a revolver, its wavering barrel aimed at the magician.

Without a word, Christine squinted. Her hand jerked. The weapon discharged. A woman in the audience screamed. The back of Gino's coat rippled. A small hole appeared.

But the magician did not stop his hand waving. Or his chanting.

Christine's eyes widened. She shot again.

Gino unleashed that same laugh I had heard upon the beach. "Le pallottole non possono ucciderle!"

"No!" Christine screamed. "No. You have to die." Again she shot. Again the bullet went right through him.

Behind her, a chuckle came from the crowd.

They think it's part of the act, I realized.

In a fit of weeping hysteria, Christine emitted an elongated "No!" and pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. With each shot the audience only laughed louder until the gun clicked in her hand.

Above the crowd's amusement I heard Gino's chanting. "Venuto a me. Ho nuovi gioielli per il vostro collo.."

Christine's face went from distraught to featureless. Her hands relaxed as well, falling from my view. The thump of the gun striking the floor reached my ears. She turned. With methodical, deliberate paces, she began to walk toward the side of the stage.

Gino's attention, his waving hands, and his chanting followed her.

I gasped, then held my breath. My mind raced. I turned from the spectacle. Bullets can't harm him! What can? Silver bullets? A stake through the heart? Burning at the stake? What can beat his magic?

"Magic," I whispered, recalling how he had reacted when I had swung the knife toward him at the beach. "Of course!"

My eyes darted to the box holding the implements for our final act. I closed the three steps to the container and threw open the lid. Each of my hands rushed inside and found one of the magician's knives. I turned and rushed through the curtains, intent on ramming both blades into Gino's back.

By then, Christine was climbing the steps to the stage and the magician had turned to face her. His back was no longer to me. I had two choices; rush him directly where he might see me, or run to my left all the way around the sawing box.

I chose the latter course and forced myself to walk the first several steps. If he saw me out of the corner of his eye, he paid me no heed. The instant both of his eyes were beyond my sight, I raced again.

I rounded the end of the box with knives in hand. A murmur swept the crowd and some of their heads turned my way.

A second later, so did Gino's, his focus coming to rest on me. His eyes widened. His brow dropped. His lips set into a line. His torso spun toward me. Over his rotating shoulder, I saw the splayed, waving fingers of his hand rise with wisps of blue trailing from their tips.

I stopped. There was no way I could reach him in time. I set my lips together and issued a silent prayer to all things holy. With my eyes locked on his neck, I hurled the knife from my right hand.

The blade flew to the left and downward, then curved back toward where my eyes still bored holes in the magician's throat. He had only time to gape before the melon-like sound of metal penetrating flesh issued from his neck. There was a half-second of near silence before the audience released a huge collective gasp.

The wide-eyed magician teetered, then stumbled as he spun to fully face me. His still-splayed hand began to rise in my direction. I know not to this day whether his motion was a plea or the start of another enchantment. My vision locked on his forehead, I launched the other knife.

With a sickening crunch, the blade buried itself within Gino's skull. Within the spectators, I heard a tumult grow, but only for a second. In that second, the magician dropped. His knees hit the floor. He began to fall toward me. I heard a humming. A blue glow surrounded him. My flesh on my scalp began to tingle. My tresses floated from my shoulders.

A tendril of the blue luminescence reached toward me. I felt lighter, as if gravity had weakened. I saw another blue tentacle reach from Gino's limp form toward the far end of the stage. The tingling crept all over my body. The hissing, crackling sound of a roaring fire enveloped me. I caught a whiff of that subtle scent one smells just before it rains. I became dizzy. Gravity returned. My legs wobbled. I collapsed. The splintery wood of the stage greeted my knees, but I hardly felt it. For a moment, I heard absolutely nothing and felt less.

My head warmed as feeling rushed back along with my consciousness. The roar of applause reached my ears. I looked to the audience to see every member standing, slamming their palms together. Many looked at me, but some looked toward the other end of the stage.

My gaze followed theirs. Where Gino should have been, only his clothes remained, yet my focus did not long linger there. Beyond the crumpled garments my eyes found a beautiful blonde with long, toned legs, her feminine curves constrained by a costume that was little more than a white swimsuit with red sequins. With her upturned palm, she beckoned that I rise.

Instead my eyes fell. To my body. My round, beautiful body. Tears welled in my eyes. I hugged myself, making sure it was really me, chubby little Megan, the only person in the world I would ever again wish to be. With rivulets rolling down my face, I lifted my gaze again to Christine.

Again, she beckoned that I rise.

This time I did so.

With a smile and a nod, she turned toward the audience and bowed. A second later, so did I, though the crowd was but a blur through my tears.

"That's our show," Christine yelled. "We hope you've enjoyed it."