Page 7 of No Charm Done

“No clue, kid. When I first got dumped in this cosmic hoosegow, I was out there, just like you were. Some fella pulled me in here. Before I even got his name, he was gone, and I’ve been stuck in this dump ever since. Still, while it ain’t exactly a mansion in Newport, it beats falling through space forever with leeches trying to crawl up your nose.” Shaw leaned back, studying his guest with the calculating gaze of a cardsharp sizing up a mark. “Question is, what’d you do to piss off the council badly enough to earn a one-way ticket to nowhere?”

Max’s face went through a series of expressions—surprise, fear, indignation, and finally a kind of theatrical defiance that would have been impressive if it weren’t so fake. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he declared with wounded dignity. “I am a legitimate entertainer. Maximillian the Magnificent has never⁠—”

“Cut the act, champ. Nobody ends up in the Void by accident. You pissed off the council—you must have. So, what’d you do? You either crossed the wrong magician, or you helped the wrong witches.”

The newcomer sighed. “Oh, all right. It was probably the latter, but I’m not completely sure. I know the witches had Quentin—that’s my furry friend here. I must’ve done something to get him back, but I don’t know what, because this ridiculous place has some sort of a spell cast over it where you can’t remember what happened there. And no, not Las Vegas.”

“Huh,” Shaw said thoughtfully. “You couldn’t mean a little town called Oak Haven, could you?”

“You’ve heard of it?!”

“I have, actually. I helped out a coupla dames from Oak Haven one time. Don’t recall exactly when that was, but as I say, I don’t recall exactly when anything was. Whole concept of when isn’t really my bailiwick anymore. But I do recollect they told me about that forgetting spell they got. Quite a pip, sounds like. I could’ve used a forgetting spell myself, once or twice.”

“Wait, you’re saying you helped them? But you’re a magician!”

“So are you, though in your case, I use the term loosely. What’s your point?”

“My point is that magicians and witches are mortal enemies!”

“Sure . . .” He executed a gravity-defying shuffle, using his right hand to send the cards soaring over his head and landing perfectly in his left. “And my point is, who cares. Smart cookies, those Oak Haven witches. I enjoyed the ones I met very much.”

Max stared at him in astonishment. “You admire them?”

“Got more moxie than most magicians I know. Or knew, I guess I should say. I don’t really know anybody anymore.”

“But they’re our enemies!”

Shaw set down his cards. “Says who?”

“Says everyone! It’s been that way for hundreds of years!”

“Has it now? And why is that, exactly?”

Max opened his mouth, then closed it, looking genuinely puzzled. “I . . . well . . . because . . . they’re witches?”

“Oh. So, just because, huh? That’s some top-shelf thinking right there.” Shaw picked up his cards again. “You don’t actually know, do you?”

“Well, I know that witches hoard magic. They’re elitists who want to keep all the power for themselves. Not like magicians. We are democratic. With enough study, anyone can be a member of our community.”

The older man barked out a laugh. “Our community? Kid, have you met our community? Half of us are just grifter frauds, and the other half are moustache-twirling megalomaniacs.”

“Good, sir, I am neither!”

“And yet, here you are. Stuck in the Void, just like that notorious criminal, me.”

“Yes, well . . .” Max sagged like a leaky balloon. “Okay, so if you’re so smart, why are magicians and witches enemies? What started this long feud?”

“I surely don’t know, kid.” Shaw shuffled his cards absentmindedly. “But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that we’re all just people, just trying to make sense of a nonsensical world. Those witches that your beloved council calls enemies? When they’re falling through infinite darkness, they scream just the same as you.”

Max reached into Quentin’s cage to stroke his fur. “So what happens now?”

“Now?” Shaw shrugged. “Now you sit here. You serve your sentence. Eventually your time will come and you’ll be moved on. To where, I can’t say.”

“How many people have you pulled in here?”

“Dozens, maybe? Hundreds? After a while, I stopped counting. At first I thought I was doing them a favor, giving them a break from the falling. Not to mention all the other creepy shit out there. Eventually I realized I was really doing myself a favor. Turns out even bad company is better than no company at all.”

“But surely there must be some way out? Some way to escape?”