CHAPTER ONE

A book whose sale is forbidden all men rush to see,

and prohibition turns one reader into three

-Italian Proverb

They say there aren’t many like us. Magicians, that is, not street rats. I reckon it’s true; figure society would have formed a lot differently if everyone could conjure up what they needed. Of course, it’s not that easy. I’ve only met a handful of us, and couldn’t no one do more than one or two simple things. I’ve kept tabs on all of them through the years; once I’ve taught ‘em to survive, I figure I ought to protect my investment, make sure something I said stuck. Heard tell of another magician moved in nearby; far as anyone can tell, he’s a “productive member of society”. That means he ain’t learned to think for himself. Well, if he’s the real deal, he’ll find out soon just how productive we get to be in society. I reckon he’ll be standing on my doorstep in a week’s time.

“Antonio! Come down here, mi caro, your father and I would like a word before you go out.”

Anthony gave a deep sigh. He was almost an attractive boy; perhaps if he got some color in his skin and let his hair grow a bit longer, he could be handsome. The only saving grace he had were his eyes, and even they did not shine as well as they could hidden behind thick glasses. Ignoring this summons, he let his gaze travel idly around the room.

He was lying on a bed large enough for at least six, perhaps more. Piled all around him were the lightest of pillows and the richest of sheets and quilts; all in brilliant orange and scarlet. In sharp contrast to the fires of his bed, the walls were painted in deep blue, outlined in the palest of purple. His room was smaller now than his older one, but the trade was well worth it, he noted, marveling again at his view. Not only did he now have a skylight, which would enable him to get his daily sun (how annoying physicians can be) without leaving, his newly handspun bay window gave him a marvelous view of the city. Yes, this penthouse would work for him; the price was a bit hefty, but no price was outside of his family’s pockets, especially not where he was concerned.

A knock at the door startled him out of his fantasies. “What do you want?” he demanded of the intruder. Slowly the door opened. In stepped an elderly man in a sharp suit. His expression painted him as tired and resigned to his duties.

“Anthony, your parents really would like to see you. You know better than to keep your mother waiting when she’s in a mood.”

“Oh, I know better, but she ought to know better than to interrupt me when I’m reading. I have this marvelous book, do you want to see, on uses of magic in the modern world. The author’s off his rocker, of course, but he seems to think that-”

“Please, Anthony. It’ll be my head if your parents don’t properly gruel you on the rules of the new house before you head out to dinner.”

He sighed again, then put his book down and slipped off the bed. “All right, Sebastian. But I’m only doing this for you, mind. I don’t want those two thinking they can summon me for just anything.”

Downstairs, a brawny man who looked uncomfortable in his collared shirt sat next to a beautiful and elegantly dressed woman at the far end of an old wooden table. They motioned for Anthony to sit down. He pulled out a chair and slunk into it. “So…what is so very important that you need to tell me before dinner? Perhaps some new dietary restriction, or a recommendation on the wine selection?”

The man slammed his fists onto the table. “What makes you think you can talk to us like that? We are parents, you know, not some sort of throwaway diversion that you can mistreat.”

“Actually, you’re not a parent, you’re a stepparent. Which, at my age, means about nil. You’re just another leech to our fortune who happens to live here.”

“Antonio! Please.” His mother seemed halfway to tears already - must have been a bad day. “Can’t we have just one discussion without you going off the deep end? Be nice to Patrick, he’s doing the best he can to relate to you.”

“I’m sorry, mama. It’s just that it seems whenever I get settled in, I get dragged out here to listen to something. I just want to work through my studies and enjoy myself.”

“Well, we can respect that. We just wanted to let you know that we don’t want you sneaking off here. New York City is not as safe as the other places we’ve lived…we don’t know what could happen to you. Please stay in the limo or the building at all times, amore. All we want is to keep you safe…” Anthony knew that his mother wanted to add “and away from unsavory influences,” but she stopped short, knowing how he felt about the outcasts of society.

“I don’t plan on going on any grand adventures tonight, Mama. Just to and from dinner, maybe a quick walk with Alfo before coming back.”

She sighed with relief, then crossed the distance between them to pull him into a hug and plant a loud wet kiss on his forehead. His stepfather glared at him; daring him to make a move, his eyes accusing him of being a liar and a delinquent.

“That’s what I want to hear from you, mi bambino. Ti amo, you know. So very much.” She stepped an arm’s length away and looked over him. “You’re so thin. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat before you go out?” Seeing his scowl, she relented. “Oh, all right. But you make sure that man feeds you properly. I don’t see why you so stubbornly refuse wine all the time. It’s not normal.”

A cloud crossed Anthony’s face. While his life was almost perfect, there was a tiny black mark. He had never told his mother about the way his father got while drinking. Of course, he never drank in front of her; it was only after their fortune was secured and she starting going on trips with her friends that he let loose. And once he got drinking, h couldn’t be bothered with things like watching his son, who he often left at home, unattended because back then their attendants went home at night and on the weekends. Nor could he be bothered with things like fidelity; he brought home a new woman almost every month, once he got going.

He didn’t like to pay for it, of course; it would be an affront to his dignity. But the girls he brought home didn’t know that. Once the ensuing fight had gotten so bad that Anthony called 911 to stop it. By the time the police arrived, the hooker was long gone, but one look at Anthony (neither he nor his father knew how to do laundry, and at his age he knew no better than to stay in his dirty clothes), and his explanation of the care he got from his father (on this occasion, he hadn’t eaten anything for two days except the candy he kept under his bed) and they took him on child neglect charges. His uncle, who was a bishop, had his parents’ marriage annulled, and his mother never spoke of it again.

“And you always wear those awful clothes. Couldn’t I get you to dress up at least a little? You haven’t seen the man in years now.” She fingered the threadbare vest he wore, casting looks over the rest of the outfit he had - all obtained secondhand, from money he had obtained on the side. She never did ask, but she wouldn’t have been happy, had she known…

“All right, fine. You can wear them. Make sure you eat a lot. No nice girl will like you all skinny like you are.”

“He was always like this you know. We don’t understand too well how he thinks, or he does it…charming people, like he does. It’s always the strangest kind of people, though.”

“Edward! It’s not the type of person we’re worried about, it’s the way they react. I’m worried his actions will insult someone, make him a target…”

“Well, now, it’s only with these kinds of lowlifes we need to worry, isn’t it? If he was off charming other high class folks, or people climbing the ladder, that’d be fine. But these…street people, these whores and fags-”

“That’s quite enough! It’s bad enough we have to hear you spout about these people, don’t use their language! Now, we’re just concerned that he’s going to ‘make friends with’ the wrong person, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes ma’am, I understand you and your husband’s concerns. But I think we should think less about what’s going to happen - he’s only a child, yet, people will interpret him as precocious - and more about why he’s doing it. Any ideas?”

“We really don’t know. He says that he needs to be their friends, like no one else can or will…”

Outside, a small boy (probably no more than 4) was sitting on the curb. An older man in a tattered jacket shuffled by, occasionally muttering to himself. He glanced at the boy, and moved away almost on reflex. The boy smiled at him though.

“Hey mister. We should be friends.” He got up and stepped toward the man, holding out his hand.

“Um…no thanks kid, that’s…um…what are you doing to me?” He stared at his jacket, which was coming back into repair; soon it looked brand new. “How did you do that kid?”

Anthony smiled a toothy smile. “It’s magic, mister. You looked like you needed a friend. I help my friends.” The man stared at him, jaw agape, while he fingered the jacket. “This quality is…fantastic. Where are your parents, kid?”

“Hey! You! Get away from my son!”

“Vaffanculo! Che cazzo fai?” The man jumped backwards, way more scared of the short woman screaming in Italian than her football sized husband, who looked like a easygoing guy. Probably from the Midwest, not that he’d have a chance to find out.

“Whoa…calm down, lady. I don’t hablo any Spanish. I was just talking to your kid. You shouldn’t leave him outside, you know. Some creep could snatch him.”

“This is my new friend, Mama. Isn’t he nice?”

Anthony’s parents rushed him away from the man, shooting dirty looks over their shoulders, and knowing looks at each other.

“We can’t keep this up forever, Max.” The voice belonged to a young teenage girl; she was pretty, but looked like she hadn’t washed in weeks, and her clothes were as threadbare as they could be while still providing a measure of cover. She glanced over at the huddled mass of a man who was sorting through the dumpster next to hers. “We need to find a permanent place, or stop taking in more people.”

The man turned to face her, revealing a face so scarred that it reflected no emotion, and only left pale green eyes as a reminder of who was under it all. She was so used to him that she didn’t react; he had quite the effect on new people, though.

“Chris…I have to help them. They would die otherwise. There was no one to help me, and I’m lucky to be a scarred heap of a man at all.” He stepped forward, heavily favoring his left leg, his right knee unbending. “We’ll find a way to do it. If we have to…a couple of our newcomers still have connections. We could get an apartment or two…”

“MAX! Why didn’t you say so in the first place? You know what we need most is a roof and some heating. I can’t believe you haven’t done that already.” she turned away in disgust, striding out of the alley at a pace he could never match with his limp.

When she whirled onto the street, her hole ridden jacket flapping behind her, he was standing there waiting for her. “You know I didn’t want to give you false hope until I knew it would work. Besides, we’d have to pay for it, and as long as it’s still warm out, there’s no reason to waste our money.”

Chris stopped and looked at him. “It’ll be well worth the money. Come on, let’s go work on it.”

As she turned to leave, he tapped her on the shoulder, then pointed inside the Starbuck’s next to them. She followed his finger, her gaze landing on a young man working the counter. She sighed; she had seduced this one more times than she could count.

“Again? Are we so desperate that we’re going to prey off this poor boy every time we see him?” She waited for a response, but got none. “All right, Max, but this is the last time. We’re finding a new mark.”

Max cackled and reached out to take her jacket. “I’m getting to be an old man, Chris. I only have a few pleasures left in life, and one of them is getting my fix of caffeine on a regular basis. If I can get that without paying for it, I’m going to take that privilege.” He paused to look her over. “Make sure you do someone new; he might be catching on.”

She rolled her eyes at him, then closed them so she could concentrate. “No one is going to catch on to a plan that involves using magic to transform.” As she spoke, the air around her shimmered. The filth slowly lifted from her body, revealing pale skin. Then the skin darkened again, filling out to a nice russet color. Her tall and thin frame thickened and shortened; at the same time, her clothing folded up to reveal the burgeoning curves of her body. To end her transformation, her hair curled back into her skull and tinged from a dirt-filled blond to bright orange.

Max nodded at her appreciatively. “You think that’ll be enough, though? He is getting less desperate.” He motioned to the cut on her shirt as he said this. She shook her head with a laugh, then deepened the cut, and grew her chest out a cup size. “All right, that should do it. Go get him, girly.”

She bit her lip as she walked into the coffeeshop. Have I really fallen so low that I’m pimping myself out on an old man’s whim? I need to get out of this…