An Apple for the Creature

Onstage, Davidoff’s smile flickered as he smelled it, too. He blasted a withering and accusatory look at the darkness offstage. Right where he knew Trey would be standing.

Davidoff reclaimed his game face. “Come forth, Azeziz! Appear now that I may have counsel with thee. I conjure thee, ancient demon, without fear and trembling. I am not afraid as I stand within the Circle of the Earth. Come forth and manifest thyself in the circle of protection that is prepared for thee.”

The globe of light pulsed and pulsed. Then there was a white-hot flash of light and suddenly a figure stood in the center of the conjuring circle.

The crowd stared goggle-eyed at the tall, portly figure with the wisps of hair drifting down from a bald pate. Laser lights sparkled from the tiny glasses perched on the bulbous nose.

Benjamin Franklin. Founder of the University of Pennsylvania.

The demon smiled.

The audience gaped and then they got the joke and burst out laughing. The hall echoed with thunderous applause as Benjamin Franklin took a bow.

Trey frowned again. He didn’t remember there being a bow. Not until the end.

“Speak, O demon!” cried Davidoff as the applause drifted down to an expectant and jovial silence. “Teach us wisdom.”

“Wisdom, is it?” asked Franklin. There was something a little off with the prerecorded sound. The voice was oddly rough, gravelly. “What wisdom would a mortal ask of a demon?”

Davidoff was right on cue. “We seek the truth of magic,” he said. “We seek to understand the mystery of faith. We seek to understand why man believes.”

“Ah, but wisdom is costly,” said Franklin, and Trey could see Davidoff’s half smirk. That comment was a little hook for when the fees to access Spellcaster were presented. Wisdom is costly. Cute.

“We are willing to pay whatever fee you ask, O mighty demon.”

“Are you indeed?” asked Franklin, and once more that was something off-script. “How much would you truly pay to understand belief?”

None of that was in the script.

Goddamn you, Kidd, thought Trey darkly, and he wondered what other surprises were laid like land mines into the program. Anthem, Bird and Jonesy moved toward him, the four of them reconnecting, however briefly, in what they all now thought was going to be a frigging disaster. If Davidoff was made a fool of, then they were cooked. They were done.

Davidoff soldiered on, fighting to stay ahead of these new twists. “Um, yes, O demon. What is the cost of the knowledge we seek?”

“Oh, I believe you have already paid me my fee,” said the demon Ben Franklin, and he smiled. “My fee was offered up by vow if not by deed.”

He rummaged inside his coat for something.

“What’s he doing?” whispered Jonesy.

Bird leaned close. “Please, God, do not let him bring out a doobie or a copy of Hustler.”

But that’s not what Franklin pulled out from under his coat flaps. He extended his arm and turned his hand palm upward to show Davidoff and everyone what he held.

Davidoff’s face went slack, his eyes flaring wide.

A few people, the ones who were closest, gasped.

Then someone screamed.

The thing Franklin held was a human heart.

—11—

Davidoff said, “W-what—?”

Bird gagged.

Jonesy screamed.

Anthem said, “No . . .”

Trey felt as if he were falling.

—12—

The demon laughed.

It was not the polite, cultured laughter of an eighteenth-century scientist and statesman. It was not anything they had recorded for the event.

The laughter was so loud that the dancers staggered backward, blood erupting from nostrils and ears. It buffeted the audience and the sheer force of it knocked Davidoff to his knees, cupping his hands to his ears.

The audience screamed.

Then the lights went out, plunging the whole place into shrieking darkness.

And came back on a moment later with a brilliance so shocking that everyone froze in place.

The demon turned his palm and let the heart fall to the floor with a wet plop.

No one moved.

The demon adjusted his glasses and smiled.

Trey whirled and ran to the tech boards. “Shut it down,” he yelled. “Shut it all down. Kill the projectors. Come on—do it!”

The techs hit rows of switches and turned dials.

Absolutely nothing changed onstage.

“Stop that, Trey,” said Ben Franklin. His voice echoed everywhere.

Trey whirled.

“W-what?” he stammered.

“I said, stop it.” The demon smiled. “In fact, come out here. All of you. I want everyone to see you. The four bright lights. My helpers. My facilitators.”

Trey tried to laugh. Tried to curse. Tried to say something witty.