Black Magic Read Online Free Page A

town’s central water tower and a politician’s stirring speeches could not mask the town’s internal economic rot. The tax base evaporated like summer rain on blacktop. Services dwindled. Stores closed. Many moved.
    Downtown now was a shell of its former self. All the two-story brick buildings were there, the sidewalks and streetlamps ready to guide customers from shop to shop. But empty storefronts dominated the square. The movie theater marquee had shed all its neon finery and the “Roxy” lettering underneath it had long peeled away. Glade Hardware made a valiant stand at one corner, Gentry’s Drug at another. Harper’s Video rented DVDs and repaired electronics and thus had cornered the market on obsolete business models. A few small businesses populated the rest of downtown, scrapbooking and antique shops that only broke even with free rent.
    That morning, Zach Vreeland pedaled his bike down the empty street, past the parking meters the few visitors roundly ignored. His knees poked through the big square holes in his jeans with each pump of the pedals. The ninth grader had about outgrown the BMX bike, but a new one wasn’t one of his parents’ priorities
    He’d mastered his new Scorpion Assault video game to the point of boredom. He’d texted the rest of the Outsiders that he’d be here. Now he just awaited a four-person flash mob.
    He hopped the curb and did a lazy slalom down the uneven sidewalk. He jerked the bike to a halt in front of what used to be Everyday Shoes. The empty shop sported a repainted black facade with a glossy shine. The old tiles in the recessed doorway glowed like they had when first laid in the 1950s. A CLOSED sign hung in the door. Sunlight shimmered on the polished display window. Black Gothic letters with gold trim crossed the glass in a wide arc. They spelled:
    MAGIC SHOP
    Underneath in smaller print it said:
    ILLUSIONS AND PRESTIDIGITATION
    Zach’s reflection in the glass disappeared as he pulled his long brown hair from his pimply face and leaned in for a closer view. A new wall behind the window blocked the view to the rest of the store. Two old posters flanked the middle. The one on the right had the word Houdini across the top and a painting of the great magician hanging upside down in a straight jacket inside a water-filled box. The poster on the left was a drawing of a man at a table in a bejeweled turban, left hand around a crystal ball like it was an old friend at a dinner party. He stared straight out from the sheet with a mesmerizing gaze. Lettering at the top read The Amazing Alexander of the East and Futures Foretold .
    Only one item sat in the display area. Three joined silver hoops hung on a black post. They gleamed against a black velvet background.  
    Zach thought that was weird. He remembered, when he was a kid and Dad had money to burn, he had a birthday party. Some guy in a clown suit came to perform. Honestly, the guy in the white face paint and big shoes gave him a case of the creeps. His balloon animals all looked like twisted-together hot dogs. But the clown had a set of magic rings. As the birthday boy, Zach got to touch them to prove that they were solid. Then in front of everyone, the clown juggled the silver rings. They flashed in the sun like some Hollywood special effect. Then fast as lightning, he linked and unlinked the rings. At the time Zach thought it was magic.
    On the other side of the door, a hand snaked into view and flipped the door sign over to OPEN .
    It’s ten-twelve a.m ., he thought. Who the hell opens a store at ten-twelve? On a Sunday?  
    Nothing else was happening out here. He leaned his bike against the front of the store and walked in. A bell tinkled to announce his entrance.
    The shop was empty. The walls were painted black. A layered curtain of beads covered the doorway between the shop and a rear storage room.
    Lyle Miller sat on a vacant display counter. A huge brass cash register took up the other end. Lyle wore a solid red