Dancing on the Dark Side

8 Seeking Death

After the advice Abuela gave me last night, I've decided to join the ranks of stalkers everywhere and follow the witch to figure out what I could possibly bribe him with. I woke up early, fighting against the clock to find his proverbial weakness before my shift at the clinic later. I'm closing, which gives me until noon to find out whatever I can about the Death Magician.

I follow him in my car, making sure to stay far back enough when watching him from my car to not be seen. It's a good thing I like watching crime shows or I'd never know how to stalk him. I'm a little surprised when he drives himself to town and parks in one of the pay-by-the-hour lots. He pays the fee and clambers out of his car, the sunlight making his porcupine hair glow like a halo. Without a scowl or anger in his face...he really does appear angelic for a moment. I nearly scoff as the thought crosses my mind.

"More like a demon in disguise." I mutter to myself from the safety of my car, still slumped low in the driver's seat. I'm parked across the street in a tow-away zone, but I don't plan on staying here for more than a few minutes. I'll continue trailing the Magician once he leaves the lot.

Finally, the Trix witch takes off at a sauntering pace down the street parallel to the one I've parked on. I pull back out into traffic and follow him. There are a few cars on the street at this time of day, not so many that the one-way street is choked by vehicles, but busy enough that I have to watch my subject from several yards away. Obie keeps walking, shuffling like he isn't supposed to be at the cemetery, running a business.

Today the weirdo's wearing another graphic t-shirt, but this one's different from the last. It's hot pink with stark white letters reading 'WARNING: DEATH MAGICIAN ON THE LOOSE!' with a skull and crossbones winking underneath. I can't tell if his t-shirts are crazy or comical. Maybe a little of both?

I can't decide if he's certifiable as he wanders around town in the shirt, but since passers-by don't even spare him a second-glance, I assume the shirt's got some sort of magic on it. Or maybe the Magician himself has a constant cloud to shield him from prying eyes. That theory is flawed, however, when I see a few familiar faces from the Alumno meeting glare daggers at the man when they see him.

The Trix witch just salutes them mockingly with a wink, making the Alumno mutter at him under their breaths before ducking out of his path. Poor, scandalized Light Magicians...if only they knew I'm exactly like him. Well...almost, I guess. I'm a Dark Magician, which doesn't seem to bother Light Magicians as much as Death Magic...understandable. I mean, 'death' is part of his brand of magic. Literally in the name. If I were a Light Magical, I can't say I wouldn't also be terrified of someone who's got power over death.

Obie ducks into several shops along the street, only going in long enough to pick up a few items wrapped in various packages. When he goes to a shipping center, he comes back out empty-handed, which seems weird to me, but I decide it's not worth the headache to try to figure out what's going on. An hour later, the Magician's made a trip around the whole street in a wide loop and gets back into his car. To my utter surprise, Obie drives back to his business and goes into house.

I park up the road and wonder if I'm really going to find out anything useful just by siting in my car and not actually talking to the strange man. I can't decide if I should try sleeping and getting ahold of Abuela for advice, or go back into town...but decide against both after a few minutes. I feel something in me that whispers that I should stick around. It's not the weird whispers that told me to dance, more like an instinct.

I listen to it, keeping my car off despite the warming heat of the morning, and soak in the sun for a while. My eyes remain trained on the house/cemetery office, and I pretend I'm here on a stake out, like the police do on the crime shows I've seen. It helps pass the time, really, to think of it that way. Luckily, I don't have to wait too long.

At ten, Obie closes up the house and comes outside. For a second, I think he's finally noticed me hiding out here with my car parked behind the bushes, but no - he heads purposefully into the cemetery and stops a foot in front of his family's mausoleum. And stares. And stares. As each second passes, his eyes seem to become more unfocused and distant, mouth pressed into a thin and somber line. Like he's waiting for something that will never come - or remembering something as equally painful.

Like the death of his entire family.

I recall what Abuela told me about his whole family dying because of some sort of magic they had performed. That Obie was the last of the Trix line. I vaguely recall some of the dates on the plaques inside, the dates on some were pretty recent. This year, in fact.

I can't help but wonder if it was the 'surge' that killed them like it had with my abuela. How many witches lost their lives to the influx of magic?

Finally, after what feels like forever, Obie's shoulders drop, the expression on his face replaced with one of determination. He spins on his heels and heads back towards the house, only to head for the side door and not the front of the house. He goes to a side door that's nearly invisible, blending so well I hadn't noticed it before. With a huff, I squint, watching as he pulls something from his pocket. I fish out my binoculars and peer into them to watch the witch more closely.

I catch him pulling out various tools, shovels and rakes and the like, along with a bucket and rags. Cleaning, the guy's going to be cleaning. I sit back as I watch the witch tote everything back out the main part of the cemetery and gets to work. He starts by dusting off the headstones, literally scrubbing at each one gently before going to the hose at the front gate ad filling the bucket with water. Then he goes back and starts cleaning each headstone with a slightly damp cloth.

I'm a little surprised to see him doing manual labor, considering he's a more skilled Magician than I am. Sure, I have no clue if Dark Magicians are even capable of casting spells to clean, but I sort of hoped... I do feel a little more respect for the guy, though, as he continues to work hard to clean up each headstone, he proceeds to begin raking up stay leaves. I mean...he probably could raise the dead and get them to do all this work for him, if he really wanted to. But he doesn't.

That tells me more about him as a person than anything Abuela told me.

After most of the morning passes with Obbie literally doing nothing but yard work around the cemetery, I feel like I've hit a brick wall. It's apparent this place is his life. And that thought is almost as depressing as my own situation. I can't help but wonder and compare our lives. What little I know about this guy aside, it's like looking at my own future.

Will I be forced away from the work I love - working with living, breathing creatures - and be subjected to caring for the dead for the rest of my life because of the power I can wield? Or will training to control my witch abilities even lead to a different outcome than this? Is my life already set in stone because of my heritage? Has my whole life been leading up to this?

While I have my little identity crisis, I don't notice that I'm no longer out of the Death Magician's line of sight. I blink a few times, wondering if he'd ducked inside the mausoleum or something. I search through my binoculars for a few minutes, my heart racing in my chest and skin getting suddenly clammy- then something catches my eye. The ash-pale halo of the witch's hair and I freeze, my heart crashing to a skittering stop in my chest. And I find myself stupidly staring into the reddish-violet eyes of the witch I'm supposed to be spying on, I feel my mouth pop open into a little 'o' of surprise.