Page 6 of No Charm Done

Reaching out, he snagged the magician by the scruff of his glittery cape, yanking him toward the waiting room like a longshoreman hauling cargo. Crossing the threshold, the magician was still thrashing, still screaming, still slapping at things no longer there.

“Get them off! Get them off me!” He dropped the rabbit cage and fell to his knees, frantically brushing at his arms and chest. “They’re everywhere! I can feel them crawling⁠—”

“Hey!” Shaw grabbed him by the shoulders. “You’re safe now.”

The magician’s wild eyes gradually focused. He looked around the beige waiting room, then down at his arms where nothing crawled. “I . . . they were . . .” He shuddered violently. “Those things . . .”

“Yeah, them Void Leeches are a real treat, ain’t they?” Shaw tried not to smirk at the man’s mortified expression.

“Void Leeches?”

“Dunno, that’s just what I call ’em. Hell, I probably screamed for a week straight when I first got here. Those leeches gobble up panic like kids eat candy.”

The magician scrambled to retrieve his rabbit cage, clutching it protectively. “Good God!” he gasped as he took in the space. “What—where—how⁠—”

“Welcome to purgatory, kid.” Shaw dusted himself off as he surveyed his unwelcome guest. “You got a name?”

The man struggled to his feet, which was initially challenging as his cape was tangled around his legs like seaweed. When he’d composed himself, he stood fully upright, lifted one arm high above his head, then bowed low. “I am Maximillian the Magnificent, at your— Wait a minute.” He stared at Shaw, sudden recognition dawning. “Wait a minute! You’re . . . No, you can’t be!”

“Can’t be what, sport?”

“Elias Shaw?” Max’s voice was barely above a whisper, equal parts awe and disbelief. “The Elias Shaw?”

“Well, I’ll be damned. They still talk about me on the outside?” Shaw dropped back into a chair, propping his feet on the coffee table. Back when he was a free man, he would’ve lit himself a smoke right about now. Alas he’d run out of coffin nails about ninety-seven years ago, so he removed a deck of cards from his jacket pocket and began a series of complex practice shuffles. “So you heard of me? After all this time.”

“Every magician worth his salt knows about Elias Shaw and Upson Burke III. Burke, he had everything: old money—hell, ancient money, probably—and all the magicians’ council connections you could imagine. And you waltzed right in and cleaned him out. I mean, that’s what people say.”

Shaw grinned. “I convinced the pompous prick that he’d triple his money with a land investment in Florida. Of course, I’d actually just cast a spell to make 10,000 acres of the Okefenokee swamp look like prime beachfront property. Which I thought was a pretty damned good trick. Come to find out, Burke didn’t find it very funny at all. So I skedaddled, got caught obviously, and ended up here with a so-called life sentence.”

“But, sir, if you don’t mind . . . what I never understood was, why pick him? Anybody could’ve predicted that he’d bring the entire council down on your head. Literally any mark on Earth would be easier than Burke.”

“Of all the chickens in the henhouse, as it were, why pick the biggest rooster? Is that your question? Well, Max, he hurt someone I loved very much—that’s why.”

“Who?”

Shaw shook his head. “No chance. New topic, please. Say, why don’t you sit down, Max? You’re making me tired standing there.”

Max gently set down his rabbit cage and took a seat. “So, you got sent here in 1924, is that right?

“No, ’26,” he corrected.

“You haven’t aged at all! You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Time doesn’t exist in the Void, so as far as I’m concerned, I ain’t a day over thirty. I’ve got no connection to the calendar anymore. Why, what year is it now out there?”

“It’s 2026, sir.”

Shaw let out a long whistle. “Great Caesar’s ghost, a whole century, that’s a lot . . . Vivi must’ve passed on by now. That was my partner, Miss Vivi . . . We worked the rackets together all over Chicago. She’d reel in the chickens and I’d skin ’em. Made me sore as all hell, taking a powder way I did . . ..” He sighed sadly. “Anyway, 2026, huh? You all coasting around in flying jalopies and whatnots?”

“Afraid not, sir. No flying cars yet.”

“Bah. Well, what the hell is the point of it all, if you don’t have flying cars?”

“Where exactly are we? This appears to be some sort of . . . office?”

“Waiting room.” The older man gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “Limbo with magazines.”

“The Void has a waiting room? But why?”