my head, my brain blank with fear, waiting for the dust to swallow me whole like the monster it so resembled.
But there was someone standing over me: Asa Skander, facing the crack in the spell as the wind whipped his coat back.
“What are you doing?” I croaked.
“Helping,” he said. He put his hand up, closed his eyes, and I felt the sudden, unmistakable pulse of very strong magic. Magic without words or spell components.
There were exclamations in the street. People were pointing upward. Above us, the cracks in the spell began to knit themselves back together. The two halves of the dome drifted toward each other like a continent re-forming, tectonic plates about to collide. Then they connected and melded together, seamless and whole as a clear glass bowl over us. Beyond it, the storm flowed silently over us, its angry darkness impotent beyond the border of Asa’s magic.
“How—” I gasped. “How did you—”
But a great cheer went up then. The people of Elysium poured from their houses, shouting their delight and relief. A man and woman began dancing, their dust masks at their chests again. And over everything, a new cry rose up among the gathering crowd: “Asa! Asa! Asa! Asa!”
Asa was pleased with himself for helping, but Sal Wilkerson looked confused, almost angry. That didn’t make sense. Who would be angry at receiving help?
Mr. Jameson appeared soon with nurses from the infirmary, telling everyone to get back, get back, so he got back, into the crowd, where his back was slapped and his hand shaken and questions were asked of him.
“You can do real magic too?”
“Are you a witch too, boy?”
“Thank God you’re here! ’Bout time we had us a man who could do magic!”
There was a tingle in his mind, and he knew what Life would say to him.
Show them! Show them the object! Finish the job!
But it was in the drawer. Perhaps he could go back and get it? But then Asa felt a lengthening, a sharpness in his mouth. Oh no! he thought. My teeth! He knew without looking that his facade was slipping. He’d never used that much magic at once before. Soon his hands would lengthen into claws. His back would bend itself into its natural position. His skin would grow scaly and sharp. It would all be over. He opened his mouth to speak, to tell them he had to be off, that he wasn’t feeling well, but a plume of white smoke slipped out.
The crowd gasped.
I’ve got to get out of here! Asa thought. Clapping his hand over his mouth, he pushed through the crowd and ran behind a nearby chicken coop. Then he disappeared altogether, leaving the townspeople to gasp at the mystery of it all.
He reappeared back in his house, his chest heaving and his teeth almost too big for his mouth. Too weak to stand, he crawled into the bloodstained bedroom, feeling his human form unraveling like a poorly knitted sweater.
I shouldn’t have done that, he thought as his hands became claws and his scaly skin shredded his shirt before he could get it off. I shouldn’t have meddled.
He would have considered this more, but he heard the footsteps of many pairs of shoes crunching in the street, then plunking across his porch. A crowd had assembled. There were knocks at the door.
He didn’t answer. A few minutes later, a man said, “Probably real tired after all that. We need to leave him be.”
Asa sat still as a stone until all of them left, one by one, trudging away into the darkening evening. He waited until it was dark, then looked outside. There were several sets of footprints in the dust on his porch, and five plates of food, wrapped carefully in rags and dishtowels, and only a little gritty.
Thank you for saving us, said a note on a plate of biscuits. We appreciate all you did for us today, said a note that came with a roast chicken. “‘We’d love to get to know you better, friend,’” Asa read aloud from the final note, which had come with a pound cake on a scratched milk-glass platter.
You still have time, said a crackling, mercury-scented voice in his mind. Enjoy yourself here. Make some friends! It’s not like you had any back in the Between.
That was true. Asa had always been the odd daemon out. Never a kind word did anyone speak to him there. But here…
It was a lot to think about. The more he put his mission