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Written by Gerri Leen / Artwork by Lee Kuruganti
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As Styx’s “Grand Illusion” blared in the background, the lights of the midway lit Gray’s face eerily, making his
expression of grim determination look like something out of a nightmare. Phil found herself drawing back.
“Philippa, what is it?” He reached for her hand even as he scanned the area.
“These lights...they make you look—”
“Utterly handsome? Irresistible, perhaps?” Gray pulled her into his arms, and she didn’t fight him even though
they were working—they were trying to look like ordinary young-in-love carnival goers, after all, not magical
repossessors.
“Sense anything?” Phil asked him.
“Other than the woman who in a few short months will make an honest man out of me? No.” He let go of her.
“And I find that troubling. Where the hell are they?”
“I thought I got a surge from over by The Zipper, but now it’s gone.”
They both looked over at the hellish little ride, guaranteed to make you throw up any cotton candy or candy
apples you’d spent your hard-earned money on, while whatever loose change you had left was conveniently
shaken loose from pockets and purses to the carnies waiting below. Carnies who appeared devoid of magic—
totally normal.
The person they were looking for was definitely not normal. He, or possibly she—Phil was having a hard time
getting a “taste” of their quarry—was using magic for evil and their own gain, and the Universe was tired of it.
And when the Universe called, repossessors like Phil and Gray answered.
On the plus side, the Universe paid well. On the not-so-plus side, it was dangerous work. Repossessors
tended to live fast between jobs—no one knew when a repo would be his or her last. It was why she was
marrying Gray. She wasn’t sure she was the settling-down kind, but she loved him and he was traditional and
wanted to put a ring on her finger. And she wanted to wear it. For now.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked as they strolled down the midway, dodging people who by their
outfits didn’t realize they were a decade too late for the Summer of Love.
“Our job. Us. The future.”
He smiled as he pulled her closer, their magic blending, amplifying their individual power. She’d melded power
with others before, but this was different; love made it different. Love made it stronger in a way she was only
learning to master—probably because both she and Gray were control freaks and in magic, as in dancing,
someone had to lead. It didn’t always have to be the same person, but they needed to stop fighting each
other and concentrate on the mission.
“There.” Gray pulled her to a stop. “Over by the balloon pop.”
She glanced over and saw no one but a little girl holding an older man’s hand...her grandfather? The old man
peeled off some bills, handed them to the huckster, then wandered away. The huckster gestured for the girl
to pick up some darts—from the look of it, Gramps had paid for a lot of games. The little girl shook her head,
blonde curls bouncing, then she held out her hand.
The huckster said something; Phil imagined it was along the lines of: “Play or get lost, kid.”
The girl didn’t stamp her feet. She didn’t pout. She didn’t raise her voice. She raised a column of power so big
and bright Phil worried even the normals could see it.
The huckster handed the money over, his face expressionless.
“Gray.”
“I see it. And her. Good Lord, that much power in that little body.” He sounded almost envious.
Phil felt sick. She hated repossessing children. She’d learned the hard way not to let them off easy just
because they were cute and small. She had a long, ugly scar down her forearm thanks to another cherub who
turned out to be more impish than angelic.
“I would like a daughter,” Gray said, and smiled at her look. “Without the evil overtones, of course. But a little
girl, our child.”
“Given our coloring, love,” she brushed her long, dark brown hair off her shoulders, “blonde is probably not an
option.”
“As long as they look like you, I’ll be ecstatic.”
“They? We just went from one to a houseful?”
“As the Universe wills, my dearest. The next generation of repossessors and all that.”
Phil was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. “Let’s just get this done. That little brat may put you off
spawning altogether.”
He laughed softly and followed for once as she led them after the girl.
~*~
The girl was busy riding the Ferris wheel—for free from what Phil could tell. More magic had roiled out from her
as she used it to convince the carnies she was holding a ticket when, in fact, her hand had been empty. Phil
saw the old man who’d been with the girl; he walked by slowly, checking his wallet as if he’d lost something.
“Sir?” she asked, stopping him. “Do you need some help?” Phil turned on the charm that had never needed
magic to work, just warm brown eyes and a sweet smile.
“Well, they tell you not to bring much money with you to these things. I’ve misplaced forty dollars.”
“Maybe your granddaughter has it?”
“My what?” He shook his head. “I’m a bachelor. Have been all my life, missy. Don’t even like kids.” He looked
around at the many children packing the carnival, disdain clear on his face.
“I’m sorry. I thought I saw you with a little girl.”
He shot her an annoyed glance and walked away, muttering about his money.
“Not much of a shock that she used him, Phil.” Gray was watching the girl discreetly, leaning up against the
side of the booth that sold ride tickets. He looked elegant, even in casual clothes, standing in this field with
litter around him. “What?”
“You really are quite handsome.”
He smiled gently. He kidded her about his appeal, but at heart, he was a little insecure. “Thank you, my dear.”
He turned his attention back to the girl. “So far, what we’ve seen hasn’t been anything the Universe would
normally take notice of. I think that—” He stood up straight, his smile fading. “What the hell?”
She looked up at the Ferris wheel, saw the man in the car just above the little girl’s had managed to swing
his legs out from under the safety bar and was standing on his seat, which was rocking.
“Hey! Sit down. I mean it. Sit down now!” the carnie operating the ride yelled. He seemed at a loss as to
whether to stop the ride or not, but opted not to—probably to avoid jerking the man when he was perched
so precariously.
The man began to sing the theme song of Welcome Back Kotter, dancing along with it. He got to the edge of
his seat and sang louder as the car tipped backward. He fell, still singing, the notes ending abruptly as he hit
a spoke of the wheel, then another. His final impact on the ground was silent other than the dull thud of flesh
hitting packed earth.
Screaming erupted, but Phil could hear the tinkle of little laughter as if it were right next to her. She realized
she wasn’t hearing the girl’s enjoyment; her magic was hearing the child’s power laughing. “Well, now we
know why the Universe cares,” she said.
“Indeed.” Gray took a deep breath. “We can’t have a magical shoot-out right here, in front of everyone.”
“I know.” Phil stared up. “But maybe we can make her come to us.” She grabbed Gray’s hand, trying to
wrestle the power between them.
“Philippa, what—”
“Just work with me.” She pulled at his power, finally felt him let her have control. “Hey, kid,” she muttered, as
she sent a stream of stinging energy the little girl’s way. “Mommy’s home and she’s not happy.”
The girl peered over the side of the ride, and as soon as her car got to the base, she stepped out. She stared
at Phil and Gray, and then smiled serenely. “Go away.”
Power blasted them. Gray pulled their shields up, and grabbed for their combined power. Phil let him have
control; he was as angry as she’d ever felt him.
The little girl should have gone flying backward from the strike he launched. She should have been twisted
into the metal of the Ferris wheel. She barely staggered back, then took off running toward the games.
“Well, at least we’ve got her on the run,” Gray said, letting go of Phil’s hand and taking off after the girl.
“Do we?” Phil muttered, as she followed him, power building inside her—power that didn’t rival that of a little
girl.
~*~
The hucksters cried out their sing-song siren calls. Three darts for a quarter. Three rings for the same. Phil
ignored them, trying to ride the trail of power that was rapidly dissipating.
“She can’t have gone far,” Gray said, as he pulled her toward the hall of mirrors.
“No. It’s stupid to chase her in there.” Phil hated funhouses. Hated the sense of being out of control, of
nothing being what it seemed.
“I cannot believe you’re afraid of a few distorted mirrors,” Gray said as he pulled her into the tent.
The light disappeared, replaced by a darkness far deeper than just the gloom of a black tent on a sunlit day.
This was magic. This was—
“Two by two, they come for you.” The little girl’s sweet, high voice rang through the space. “Run and hide,
they’ll still find you.”
“Stand and fight, then,” Gray murmured, holding more tightly to Phil’s hand. “She wants us to hide, to be
scared.”
Power buffeted them, a dark miasma crawling up Phil’s legs, and she almost told Gray she was scared. This
kid creeped her out. Not least because the power she used was so utterly lacking in anything...human.
“Let me have it, Phil,” Gray said, and she gave him control.
Their combined power filled the room, sending the tendrils of ick scuttling away. The space started to lighten.
“Who are you?” The child stepped into view, a sickly, green light surrounding her. “Where did you get that
power?”
Phil could feel the girl’s confusion. “Where did you get yours?”
“Born this way.” For a moment, she was just a little girl. For a moment, her eyes were the eyes of a
frightened, lonely child.
“Us, too.” Phil let go of Gray’s hand, held it out to the girl. “You’re alone. All alone. But you don’t have to be.
You could use your power for something good. You could be with us.”
“Phil...” Gray was pawing at her, always pawing at her. Couldn’t he let her have a moment’s free time.
“Philippa, she’s using you...”
The blast of the girl’s power sent her into the nearest mirror, silvered glass shattering around her, pieces
picked up by the whirlwind of the girl’s power.
“Now, who’s alone?” The tinkle of the girl’s laughter sounded again and she began to suck energy from the
air around them. “Now, who’s all alone?”
Phil felt Gray reaching for her, his magical reach much longer than any physical one. There was love in his
touch. Love and desperation and anger—boiling rage that this child would do this to her.
Holy God, how much did he love her?
Phil grabbed onto his power, held on tight. And then was thrown out of the tent when Gray let loose, the
magic exploding out of him like a nuclear blast. The little girl lay on the other side of where the tent had been.
Phil forced herself to her knees, realized she was bleeding from the mirror and from Gray’s power play. She
tried to walk, but dizziness overcame her, so she crawled over to where Gray stood watching the girl, who
amazingly wasn’t hurt.
“You’re evil,” he was saying over and over, and he looked at Phil, his expression guilty. He’d never hurt her
before. Never lost control this way.
“Letting go feels good,” the child said, then she held her hand out to Phil. “Help me. He’s going to hurt me.”
Phil could feel the child pulling power in, waiting for Phil to either cave to some maternal feelings she was
surprised to realize she had for the kid, or try to take her out with power.
The child smiled, and Phil felt that smile all the way to her gut.
“I like you. We could be together forever.”
It sounded good. This little angel, blonde and sweet.
“Help me?” The girl pushed again, too hard this time.
“I’ll help you, you little brat,” Phil said, as she decked the child.
“Philippa!”
“Well, she’s out.” Phil cast a quick blinding spell, ensuring any passersby would just keep walking. “Let’s get
her out of here.”
Gray stopped her, took out a handkerchief and dapped at the blood on her face. “I’m sorry.”
“You took her down.”
“I lost control. I was angry.”
“She hurt me.” But inside...inside she felt something shift and shiver. Doubt. It was doubt.
“I couldn’t stand it if you were hurt.” He hugged her quickly, and she realized he was trembling badly.
“It’s all right. This isn’t you.” She kissed him and pulled away, grabbing the child and slinging her over her
shoulder.
“I can take her.”
“I’ve got her.” She wasn’t sure why, but she felt it was important Gray not carry her.
As they walked back to his car, Phil felt the girl’s magic whispering to her.
“Could make you so much more powerful.”
“Nothing we couldn’t do together.”
“Give in to me and I will make you a Goddess.”
She ignored the call as best she could, finally whispered a binding spell to block it as she shoved the child into
the back seat and crawled in after her.
The magic was alive even when the child was out. That usually meant possession, not inherent evil. The little
girl might be salvageable. That was important. She was just a kid. Kids should be innocent of this darkness
Phil and Gray lived in.
The ride to Thomas Repossessions was short; Phil kept her eyes on the girl and her mind safely tuned away.
“Here,” Gray said, as he parked the car and got out. “I don’t want her screaming all the way in.” Power that
Phil barely recognized as his bore down on the child, binding her in ways more secure than any ropes or
chains.
The girl struggled, but the magic inside her was contained. Gray pulled her out and carried her into the
building; to anyone watching, she would look like a large package, not a little girl about to be repossessed.
Phil could feel the girl’s panic—no, not the girl’s. There was barely anything of her left. This was the thing
inside her panicking. As they neared the vault, as Gray opened it and they slipped into the power-filled space,
the girl began to scream—the sound not audible, but resounding in Phil’s mind like a gunshot in a small, metal
room.
Gray set her down on the ancient carpet and backed away. There was the sound of an oncoming train and
oily black smoked covered the child. The mental scream turned into a wail, then a whimper.
Finally, the smoke cleared. The little girl was gone.
“No.” Phil sank to her knees at the edge of the carpet. No, this wasn’t fair. She was just a kid. She hadn’t
asked for evil to take over. And she hadn’t been equipped to say no to power like that. What kind of Universe
did this to a child?
“Phil. Phil, come on. It’s over.” Gray sounded like he always did. Like this child had been nothing more than a
magical knife or urn.
“She was a human being.”
“I know.” But there was something in his voice that told her he didn’t understand. That he would never
understand.
“I thought it would leave her.”
“There must not have been enough to leave once the evil was scrubbed.” He sighed. “Phil, as sad as this is,
this isn’t the first time or the last time we’ll see someone who might have once been innocent taken. If you
can’t deal with it, you might be in the wrong line of work.”
“And if you can deal with it too easily, you might be in the wrong line of work.”
Something flared in his eyes, then he pulled her close and took a deep breath. “You’re right as usual, my
dearest.”
She let him hold her, let him whisper words that sounded more like misdirection than capitulation. And all the
while, the empty spot on the carpet mocked her.


Celebrating our 5th Year of Publication
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Gerri Leen is celebrating the release of her first book, Life Without
Crows, a collection of short stories published by Hadley Rille Books.
In addition to The Lorelei Signal, you can read more of her stories in
such places as: Sword and Sorceress XXIII, Return to Luna, Sniplits,
Triangulation: Dark Glass, Footprints, Sails & Sorcery, and GlassFire.
Gerri lives in Northern Virginia and originally hails from Seattle.
Visit http://www.gerrileen.com to see what else she's been up to.