Chapter 16: What’s in the Drink? . . . Magic, I Think
What’s in the drink? Chase the devil away.
Magic, I think . . . .
--“Chesay”
****
After talking to the police and handing off the criminal to them, I went home. I felt both terrified and exhilarated. I was going to take a giant leap from my present life. I was going to be strong for the sake of others—and gentle as well.
But I would have to start touching people again. It might be more dangerous than when I had been using the shard—but part of what had worried me about the shard was that my powers would return without warning. Now, I would have my powers all the time. I would have to be in a state of continual control—but surely it was better than paranoia. If Shelby was trustworthy enough to be touched by people, then didn’t the same apply to me?
And what was more—I wanted to touch and be touched by people. I had cut myself off from everyone for so long that I felt like a tightly wound spring about to burst. And if I hesitated every time I was about to touch someone, it could cost a life when every split second counted. Wasn’t it best to become accustomed to touch again?
I didn’t plan to talk to my parents about it until I had thought it over more, so when I got to my apartment I just went to bed. Shelby got into his usual spot at the foot of my bed—I hadn’t been able to tell him “no” the first night he did it, and I figured it was going to be habit-forming soon, but I found that I liked the company. The last time I had woken up with someone in my bed other than him had been that African sculpture. I smiled to myself and turned off the light.
I was woken up a few minutes later by the sound of Shelby barking. “Quiet,” I told him in annoyance, the covers pulled over my head, but he was insistent, so I finally peeked out. My eyes widened when I saw the strange globe that had been nestled away in a box now floating in midair and glowing. I reached my hand out, and it descended into my palm as if it were meant to be there.
The globe was no longer in the shape of Earth. It had morphed into a red-tinted planet utterly different from the place I had grown up on. “Krypton,” I whispered to myself, somehow knowing immediately that I had just spoken the name of the planet of my birthplace.
White light flashed from the globe, and it projected an image that I was utterly enraptured by.
An older man with a silver symbol on his white tunic began to speak. “I am Jor-El. You are my son, Kal-El. The globe in your hands is attuned to you, and it has activated now that you have begun to accept your destiny. You see, Kal-El, you have a great purpose on Earth. Under the planet’s yellow sun, you will be given powers no Kryptonian has ever had. But you must use those powers wisely. Know, son, that we did not wish to part with you. But our home planet was in danger of destruction, and so your mother Lara and I decided to send you out in a space capsule as a baby.”
A tall woman wearing similar clothes appeared and smiled at me. I reached out with my free hand, as if to touch her.
“If you are seeing this message, then you must have survived the journey through space and grown into a fine young man. I am only sorry that we could not be a part of your life.” His face was grim. “We were facing utter desperation when our probes gave us information concerning the planet Earth. We found that its inhabitants look like Kryptonians and embraced ethics similar to ours, and we knew it was the best place to send you. We stopped our search for a hospitable planet and worked to finish the capsule that would carry you to your new home—to the realm called America . . . and the place called Kansas.”
He paused for a few seconds, looking as if he didn’t know what to tell me next. Finally, he told me, “There is so much that I could say, and there are probably many questions you would like to ask. I know both Lara and I would like to see what you look like at this point—to know what you have become and whether you are alone. But just as we cannot get answers to our questions, so we cannot try to anticipate and answer all of your questions. With the destruction of Krypton imminent, we do not have the time for such exposition.”
Lara brought her hands together. “Just know that we loved you, Kal-El,” she whispered. “We hope you find the happiness that we felt when you first entered our life.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she had a smile on her face. “Just the thought that you could survive to see this message is enough to make us content. Though we are gone, do not allow yourself to succumb to loneliness . . . . ”
Jor-El nodded. “As the last son of Krypton and the only survivor of the House of El, you must bring hope to others. Look toward the future. There, you will find greatness.”
As their images slowly disappeared, I felt both saddened and excited. Finally, I knew something about where I came from.
I got up and put the globe in the small wooden box from where it had come. Had it reacted to my presence because I had decided to use my powers for a greater purpose? As I sat on my bed, I smiled and tried the name of the planet out again, “Krypton.”
Shelby wagged his tail and barked.
“You like that word, huh?” I asked. When he barked again, I chuckled, “Maybe I should call you ‘Krypto’ then.” I quickly dismissed the thought, however. Such a name would probably call too much attention to him. It was too close to “cryptic.”
I thought about going back to bed, but I was too excited. I jumped up and padded over to the phone and called my parents.
My sleepy mother answered, “Clark?”
I grinned. Evidently, my time in Metropolis had taught her that I was the only one who would call this late. “Hi, Mom.”
Dad picked up. “Clark?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“What is it, Clark?” Mom asked.
“Sorry to wake you guys—again,” I apologized, feeling a little guilty.
“We’re always glad to hear from you, Clark . . . . We just wish you called us during daytime hours.”
“The globe glowed,” I told them, barely able to contain myself.
“What?” they asked simultaneously, both of them sounding confused.
I explained everything I had seen, and they seemed impressed. But Mom was still a little skeptical. “Why would it only show you all this now?”
Pacing with my cordless phone, I said, “I’m not sure. But I think it had something to do with a big decision I just made.”
“A big decision?” queried my father.
I took in a deep breath. “I’ve decided to stop with the meteor rock exposure . . . . I’m going to start using all my powers to help people.”
“Oh, Clark!” Mom exclaimed, sounding choked up. “I’m so happy for you . . . . But you realize that you’re going to have to touch people, don’t you?”
“I know that, Mom . . . . And I’m preparing myself for it. I’m not going to lie—it’s going to be . . . tough. But I can do it. I’d like to start touching people again.” Saying that last sentence was scary, but it felt good.
“The first thing I’m going to do the next time I see you is give you a big hug,” Mom proclaimed firmly.
I laughed. “I guess that’s allowed.” However, I quickly sobered. “But there are a few things I need to talk to you about . . . . I need to know that you’re willing to do what needs to be done if it comes down to it . . . . I need to know that you’ll use the meteor rock against me if it’s needed.”
“Clark—”
“And I’m finally going to tell you about what happened in Africa. It’s—it’s important for you to know.”
Filled with apprehension, I began to tell them the story of that dreadful day.
****
I walked into class and sat, glancing beside me at Constance’s chair. She wasn’t in it, but I couldn’t help but find my thoughts drawn to her.
If I was a bit out of place in both Africa and America, Constance wasn’t even to be found on the same map. She was a clear outsider to the group of Americans studying abroad in Africa despite her status as a fellow American, and I couldn’t help but empathize with her a little for it. As someone who was either an alien or the result of a science experiment, I had never completely felt like I fit in either. But her unorthodox ways just turned too many people off, so it wasn’t like I could blame people for avoiding her, even though I occasionally tried—and failed—to include her in our activities.
Constance was obsessed with magic. Her father, it seemed, was a famous illusionist, and he had taught her everything he knew—only to realize belatedly that people weren’t interested in watching a female magician. And so, he had forced her to go to Metropolis University in hopes that she would find a different interest. Judging by her choice of a summer study abroad program, though, it hadn’t worked—it had just given her the opportunity to explore magic further.
It had taken her a while to warm up to me—and even then she was never really what one could call “warm”—but she had eventually told me that she was in the southern part of Africa to study hoodoo. I had instantly made the mental jump to “voodoo,” though I hadn’t been certain that was exactly what she had meant. Upon doing some research into the subject, I learned that hoodoo was a type of African-American folk magic which borrowed from both Native-American and African traditions . . . . It had seemed to me as if Constance might have had a little more luck in America based on that alone, but I guessed that she probably knew something I didn’t.
She wasn’t the only one at the summer program whose eyes were firmly fixed on something outside the school. Another American, Billy, was there mostly out of interest in the nearby Animal Reserve. They had lions and plenty of other beasts there, so a biology guy like him couldn’t be blamed for jumping at the chance to come to Africa.
Yes, Africa held a lot of different things for college-aged students. For me, it was a foretaste of what was to come. I wanted to travel the world after I graduated and eventually do something with my journalism degree . . . like serve as a foreign correspondent for a newspaper. Working for the Daily Planet was my dream job, but I wasn’t going to pursue that until after I did some traveling and got my Master’s degree. I hoped profusely that I would be able to do the latter at somewhere other than Midwestern State University. The school had a pretty good journalism program, so I couldn’t complain about getting my undergrad there, but I wanted to expand my horizons.
As people began filing into the classroom, I shook myself out of my reverie and began greeting a few familiar faces. When class started, however, I realized Constance was nowhere in sight. I resolved on finding her after school to tell her about the change the professor had made to our homework assignment for the next week. Despite her interest in magic, she did try to make good grades. I suspected it was so that her father wouldn’t become suspicious of her motives, but I didn’t ask her about it.
I sat through my class with interest, and when I was done with class for the day, I intended to track down Constance. My plans were derailed when Billy begged Kenny and me to go on a drive through the Animal Reserve. Kenny and I agreed with great reluctance, but only because we both knew that Billy hadn’t come across many wild animals and was getting bummed about it. In particular, he hadn’t seen a lion in its native habitat yet, and it was something we’d had to hear him moaning about several times. After eating a quick early dinner, we tried and failed to convince Anthony to come, left him after a period of grumbling, and finally rented a car. We hadn’t gone ten yards when my sensitive hearing picked up raised voices.
I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew it couldn’t be good, so I turned to Billy, an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Stop the car, Billy.”
The furrowing of his brow was a clear indicator of his reluctance, but he obeyed my request. After the car had come to a halt, however, he looked at me in puzzlement. “What is it, Clark?”
I hesitated. I hated lying, but I needed to get away. “I don’t feel very good—I don’t think dinner is agreeing with me.”
“What? Not enough Dingdongs and Twinkies for you?” Kenny pressed. My penchant for junk food was well known, and Kenny liked to rib me about it.
“That’s it,” I answered with a small smile that quickly faded. “But you two go on . . . . I’m sorry I can’t go with you guys, Billy. Maybe another time?”
“Yeah,” he replied sadly.
I felt bad for leaving him alone with Kenny—who I was certain would soon start teasing Billy mercilessly—but I thought one of the voices I had heard belonged to Constance, and I needed to find out what was happening.
They drove away, and I waited impatiently for them to pass out of sight. Then, after looking around to make sure no one was watching, I sped toward the spot outside the Reserve where I’d heard the voices. I considered revealing myself, but instead I hid behind a tree and listened first. I wanted to know what was happening before I just jumped into the middle of things. Maybe everything would be okay . . . but I had a bad feeling about this.
“I still don’t understand why you won’t teach me,” Constance growled.
An irritated female voice answered, “I already told you, child. Because of your blood-thirst.”
“I don’t even know what you mean by that! I’ve never killed anyone.”
“Doesn’t mean you won’t.”
In a placating tone, Constance asked, “As a hoodoo practitioner, don’t you want to pass on your knowledge to someone else?”
The woman was quiet for a few seconds before sighing. “All right. You want help, child? Drink this.”
Curious, I pulled down my glasses and used my x-ray vision to look through the tree providing me cover. I did so just in time to see a small glass bottle filled with liquid being exchanged between the two.
Holding the bottle up to her eyes skeptically, Constance asked, “What is it?”
The other woman nodded at it. “Drink that, and you will experience the greatest power known to man and woman.”
Constance lowered the bottle to her side, looking annoyed. “I didn’t ask for a potion. I asked for knowledge.”
“Well, child, we can’t always get what we want, now can we?” the woman returned. She cackled at the expression on Constance’s face and then walked away, muttering to herself in a language I didn’t know.
Constance began a series of colorful expletives beneath her breath as she stared at the bottle in her hands. After a brief period of hesitation, I decided I needed to reveal myself, and I stepped out from behind the tree. But before I could stop her, Constance gulped down the potion in one quick movement.
The action surprised me, and I found myself demanding, “Why did you do that?”
She swiveled to face me. Her eyes narrowed when realized who I was. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” I answered curtly. I crossed my arms and stared at her with all the sternness I could muster. “Constance, if you don’t watch yourself, you could get hurt.”
In annoyance, she began, “Clark—” But then she suddenly swooned.
I rushed forward at faster-than-human speed and caught her before she hit the ground. Her eyes were closed, and I was about to panic in fear that she was dying, but after a few seconds, she opened her eyes and blinked up at me.
“Clark?” she asked in confusion.
“Are you all right?” I bit out, worried. “What if that potion was poison?”
“Oh, Clark,” Constance whispered, burying her head in my chest.
I suddenly felt confused. “What? What is it?”
“I know what that potion does now . . . . ”
“What?”
“She was right,” she told me softly. “It is the greatest power known to man and woman . . . . ”
I waited for her to expand on her meaning, and when she didn’t, I pushed, “What?”
“Clark . . . I love you.”
I almost dropped her. “What?” I asked dumbly. A small part of me registered that my communication skills had dropped to parrot level. It was only with extreme effort that I was able to force myself not to say “What?” a fourth time.
“I hate her so much, Clark,” she told me, her voice filled with anger. Her fury was gone a second later, however, when she whispered, “But I love you so much . . . . I don’t understand how I can feel so many different things at once . . . . ”
“Constance—” I began uneasily. I didn’t know what to say.
She squirmed out of my arms and looked up at me. “Don’t you love me back, Clark? You’ve been trying to include me in everything from the beginning . . . . ”
I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life. “Constance, I barely know you—”
She tore her gaze away from me. When she finally looked back, her eyes were filled with pain. “Clark, I need to know . . . . Can you ever love me? Can we ever be together?”
I took a step backward, feeling as if I had been hit by a freight train. This situation was getting more bizarre by the minute.
Finally, my thoughts racing, I managed, “Constance, we’re going down two different paths . . . . You want to be a great magician, remember? And I’d like to be a journalist. We aren’t exactly compatible career-wise . . . . ” I trailed off. Wincing and feeling like a heel, I added, “And I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you.”
She looked as if she had just been punched in the gut.
Feeling even guiltier, I told her, “Constance, I’m sure this love potion—or whatever it is—will rub off—”
“No!” she exclaimed, taking me aback. “It can never be removed.”
“What if we go find that woman?” I persisted. “She might know something—”
“We’re not going to undo the potion . . . . But you’re right that she might know something to do to change this . . . . But Clark, I can’t allow that to happen.” She began searching her pocket for something as she calmly told me, “That woman was an evil person, Clark. She admitted to me that she had killed several foreign students.”
I frowned. “I didn’t hear her say anything like that—”
“She said things—terrible things—before you came, Clark. She threatened to kill me. I wanted to run very badly, but I wanted her power more. She was just saying those bad things about me to paint me as being more like her.”
I was fairly certain Constance was becoming unhinged. And I was absolutely certain that I was becoming more uneasy by the second. “Constance—”
“She is just too dangerous.” She pulled something gleaming out of her pocket. “I’m sorry, Clark.”
“Constance, what are you—”
****
As I told my parents the rest of the story, I felt as if there was a pressure in my chest that was simultaneously contracting and releasing. It was a blessing to get this burden off my chest—but it was a curse to know that I would have to deal with my parents’ changed opinions of me after I finished my tale.
When I was done, I waited for the rebukes. I waited to hear of their horror.
But all I received from them were expressions of love.
When I finally hung up the phone, I went and lay in my bed for a long time before falling asleep. I had feared that conversation for so many years—had thought I would go to almost any length to prevent it from happening. But now that it had, I was glad.
To know that my parents didn’t think me a monster—well, it was a blessing.
