Magic Souls

CHAPTER 1: The Promotion Commotion-3

“Plenty O’Pizza.”

“Hi! I’d like to order ten pepperoni pizzas.”

“Name, please.”

“Annette Farwell.” I told him to deliver it to a neighbor’s address.

“We’ll be there in twenty.”

I dialed another number.

“Fireside Pizza.”

“Ten pepperoni pizzas, please.”

I kept calling until I had ordered seventy pizzas. It was going to be A-W-E-S-O-M-E, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to see how far I could go. I looked around my car, and saw the newspaper that Ladouche had been reading. There was an ad for a suicide hotline; I dialed it and pressed through the prompts until a woman answered.

“Hello, my name is Beth and I’m here to help.”

“You couldn’t help me if you tried.”

“What is your name?”

“Annette Farwell. You’ve probably heard of me. I’m an attorney and a shark. I steal from people, and I hurt those close to me.”

“You did the right thing by calling. You really did, Annette.”

“I just want attention. I don’t want to, to do it, but I want people to forgive me. I don’t want to be lonely. I’ve done so many horrible things. Today, I stole a job from a co-worker. I got a twelve thousand-dollar raise that should have been hers. And you know what? It bothers me how little I care.”

“You must care if you called.”

“Funny. If you slapped me, I swear that I wouldn’t feel it. It’s like I’m Godzilla and everywhere I go is Tokyo, and even when I’m crushing thousands of people with every step, all I can do is roar and enjoy my power.”

“That is . . . quite the analogy, Annette.”

“The only way for me to feel anything is to give myself the ultimate pain.”

“That’s not the answer.”

I pretended to choke up. “I’m cooking salmon tonight, and I think this will be my last dinner. I should just leave the oven on, and, and . . .”

“Is that what you really want?”

“How do I know? I ordered pizzas for everyone on the block; they can enjoy my last supper with me. Soon, the street is going to light up with delivery trucks.”

“Why did you order so many pizzas?”

“Because maybe, just maybe, I can redeem myself with pepperoni.”

It didn’t make any sense at all, but it sounded good. For a moment, I felt as if I were Annette.

Just then, a pizza truck careened onto the block and parked at the house next to Annette’s. A lanky teenage boy jumped out, lugging a tower of pizza boxes. He rang the doorbell, the house lit up, and a confused man answered the door. When the pizza boy demanded payment, the neighbor shook his head.

More pizza trucks appeared and parked in the driveway of every house on the block, and soon, all the neighbors were on their lawns, whispering to each other.

The delivery drivers clustered together on the sidewalk, gesturing toward Annette’s house. They filed up to her porch and rang the doorbell as the neighbors watched.

I leaned my head out so that I could hear.

Annette threw the door open, eyed the crew from head to toe, and scrunched up her nose.

One of the boys stepped forward. “Miss, what kinda prank are you trying to pull?”

“You look like the prank to me,” Annette said.

“You ordered seventy pizzas.”

“Seventy pizzas,” Annette said, enunciating every syllable. “Why would I order seventy, cheap, greasy pizzas?”

“Dunno, but you’ve got to pay us.”

Annette cackled and slammed the door in their faces.

The pizza boys murmured amongst each other, and the squad car that I saw earlier pulled into Annette’s driveway. A burly officer stepped out and surveyed the block—the pizza trucks parked haphazardly on the curbs, the pizza boys standing in a circle trying to figure out what to do, and the neighbors scattered across the yards with their arms folded. He cursed when they told him what happened.

“Matches the call,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “Looks like she also called the suicide hotline.”

Annette opened the door when he knocked.

“Officer, thank God you arrived. These—people—showed up at my doorstep saying the funniest thing.”

“Did you order these pizzas?” the officer asked.

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Did you make any unusual phone calls tonight?

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

“God, all the questions! I’m so sick of meddlesome neighbors and bullshit like this. Sometimes, I hate my life—”

I laughed aloud, but I covered my mouth.

The officer grabbed her arm gently. “It’s okay, honey. I’m not going to hurt you. Sometimes life can be hard, but you can talk to me . . .”

I had seen enough. I drove away and smirked into the rearview mirror until Annette’s house was out of sight. It might have seemed silly, but I had gotten my revenge, and I felt so much better.

***

I felt like singing as I skipped into the law firm the next morning. Tucker held the door open for me, and after we passed the secretary’s desk, he hung his gabardine jacket on a coatrack and straightened his cuffs. He saw me staring at him—I couldn’t help it—and he smiled until the skin near his eyes wrinkled. I wanted to throw my arms around him and plant a kiss on his lips. After all, I was going to get fired today anyway.

“Good morning!” I said.

“I assume you didn’t hear about Annette.”

Just what I wanted to hear. “Is she okay?”

“Not really. Her house burned down.”

“Her house burned down?!”

Tucker was taken aback. “She left some salmon in the oven. Someone played a prank on her and she forgot about it. The house went up like a roman candle.”

I punched him on the shoulder. “You’re lying.”

“She’s at the hospital,” he said, looking at me with those caramel eyes.

“Why is she in the hospital?”

“That’s the sad thing,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “She was cooking an anniversary dinner for her husband—he came home just as the fire started. He tried to put it out, but he was burned.”

“Stop it. Just—stop it!” I put my hands on my ears and sang. “La la la la laaaaa—”

“It’s a shame,” he continued. “They just found out they were expecting. Oh, come on, are you going to sing forever?”

When he stopped speaking, I sighed. “Much better.”

He didn’t take his eyes off me. “The news reports say it was a black male, you know.”

I snatched my purse and flew out the door. I stopped in an alley and began to cry. I didn’t want this. I just wanted plain vanilla revenge. With her twelve thousand-dollar raise, Annette could have afforded new tires. And Martin, I never wanted him to get hurt. Gosh, I didn’t even know him.

“I never should have used those powers that Ladouche gave me,” I said. “I wish them away.”

There was a smacking sound, and Ladouche was sitting on a dumpster with his legs crossed, eating an apple. “What’s with the remorse? It’s so out of character compared to last night.”

“I wasn’t myself.”

“Of course you were,” Ladouche said. “You reached deep inside yourself and found a darkness you didn’t know you had. You surprised yourself—hell, you surprised me.”

“I was supposed to get revenge on Annette—not her husband.”

“Oh, yes—Martin,” Ladouche said. He flicked the apple and clucked his tongue. “That’s what happens when you try to be a hero. I hear he’s going to need a skin graft. A skin graft, ha ha!”

I turned and walked away. “We’re done, Ladouche.”

He disappeared in a puff of smoke and reappeared at my side with his arm resting on my shoulder. He had a contract in the other hand. He pointed to a clause highlighted in red.

I ripped up the contract without reading it. “Don’t talk to me ever again.”

Ladouche shrugged, and the contract rematerialized in his hand. “No, read it. I did something for you—I gave you unlimited power beyond your means, helped you fulfill your darkest desire. Now you’ve got to help me.”

“Let go of me. I’m going to turn myself in.” I dialed 9-1-1, but a machine answered and said, “We’re sorry, but the number you called is no longer in service . . .”

I dialed the police, the fire department, city hall. All were out of service.

“Phone service sucks in this city,” Ladouche said, laughing.

“Ladouche, what do you want?”

“You’re going to help me ruin more lives.” He frowned. “There are three people in this city that I just can’t ruin, curse their little hearts—three people whose light I cannot extinguish.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself?”

“Because I can’t get near them. The purity of their souls repels me. But you . . .”

“I won’t kill anyone on your behalf.”

He appeared by my side and took my elbow. “Who said anything about murder? I simply want their souls, Bebe.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re going to crush their optimism. You see, you’re such a good person that they’ll never see it coming. One act of random cruelty is all you need.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Because their souls repel me. I can’t touch them or anything that belongs to them. But you can.”

I tried to shake myself from his grip. “But what about my own salvation?”

“I’m a demon. What do I care about salvation?”

“And if I don’t do it?”

Ladouche shrugged. He pointed to the law firm, and the front wall of the building became invisible so that I could see inside. Tucker was sitting in his office, talking on the phone. “If you do not perform, I will take his soul in exchange for your inaction.”

“I lose either way.”

“Then I suppose you should start preparing for a life without love.”

Ladouche twirled his finger, and white light emanated from Tucker’s body. He twirled his finger faster, and the light pulsed brighter. “You have three seconds before I rip out his soul.”

It wasn’t fair for Tucker to suffer because of me. I imagined Ladouche doing horrible things with his soul, imagined all the things that might never be between us. It was too much.

“Stop. I’ll do it.”

The white light returned to Tucker’s body, and Ladouche clapped his hands together with glee. “I knew you’d do the right thing, Bebe. Really, you’ll find that taking three souls is quite easy.”

“Shut up and tell me who these people are.”

CHAPTER COMPLETE!

~ Continue.

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