Orson Card - Magic Street

"Oberon do that too?"

"He thinks he does, but he got no idea what-all I get from it. Truly knowing everything about another person—that takes me way higher than all that trembly screechy moany stuff mortal women get so excited about."

"But fairy men don't do that."

"Maybe they could, if they bothered to look into their partner the way I look into mine."

"Just seems to me," said Ceese, "you taking a lot from Mack and giving him pretty damn little."

"I'm a queen," said Yolanda. "What planet you been living on?"

"So, you going to spoil him for other women? You going to make it so he can't be happy with somebody like Ebony DeVries?"

Yolanda almost answered. Then she shook her head. "I won't keep him from anything he ever had a chance of having."

"Oh, you're all heart," said Ceese. "You're Miss Congeniality times ten."

"Cecil Tucker," she said, "I will never do anything that harms Mack Street. But I also can't give him any happiness that is out of his reach by nature."

"Nothing natural about any of you fairies."

"I don't like the way you said 'fairies,' " said Puck.

"And I don't give a flying Puck what you like," said Ceese.

"Hush," said Yolanda. "We need Ceese."

"What do you need me for?"

"Sometimes you got to have a giant."

WEDDING

All day people called and came by Rev Theo's church, wanting to know if the stories they were hearing were true. Rev Theo assured them that last night they were truly blessed by God, and yes, it was through the vessel of Word Williams, his associate pastor. If anyone noticed that "associate pastor" was a promotion, they didn't mention it.

Those who wanted to talk to Word, however, were disappointed. Word spent the morning and much of the afternoon in seclusion. From time to time, Rev Theo would knock on the door of his own office, but Word would answer, "Can I have just a little longer, sir?"

Rev Theo was telling everybody that Word was spending the day in prayer, and it was true that from time to time he prayed. But mostly he was reading scripture and trying to sort things out in his mind.

There was no denying that the gift he had received last night did good things for people. He was given knowledge he shouldn't have had; the words just flowed into his mind and he spoke them. And the healings, the saved life, those were real and definitely good.

But countering it all was the feeling of having something enter him. The Holy Spirit was supposed to be a feeling of joy, exaltation. Not like someone inserting a cold and creepy hand into the back of your head and down your spine. Like a worm insinuating itself in your flesh.

It felt like being possessed by a devil. Not that Word had ever had such a thing happen before.

But how else could it feel? Or like having some alien creature get inside your nervous system and take over your body.

Only here he was, praying, reading the Bible, all those things that were supposed to make devils uncomfortable, and nothing was happening. At the same time, didn't he still feel it down his spine? A

kind of thickness at the back of his head? An extra little hitch in his shoulders when he moved his arms? Or was that all his imagination?

Does the Spirit of God feel like a passenger? Does it ride you like a pony?

A pony. Word thought back to when he was a little kid and somebody had a pony ride at their birthday party. For some reason the pony decided Word was a pushover. Or maybe the pony was just done for the day. Whatever the reason, it took off out of the front yard and started off down Cloverdale, right at the steepest part. Went right past the Williamses' house and the pony's owner was yelling for him to stop, but Word had no idea how to control the pony. He kept kicking it and telling it to stop, but it just went faster, and it was scary because the road was so steep. Finally the horse scraped him off on a street sign, knocking him to the street.

Or was that what his rider wanted him to think? Had that memory been inserted in his mind like those things he said yesterday?

How could he explain to people that it wasn't him, and it might not even have been God?

The New Testament had those stories about Jesus' enemies saying, "He casts out devils by the power of the prince of devils." But the whole point of the stories is that it was stupid to think that good works could come from evil sources.

But common sense said that if you were evil and wanted to insinuate yourself into a community, you'd come on as really nice and helpful. What community wouldn't welcome a healer?

He shook his head. Why am I resisting this? Isn't it what I dreamed of? There's a congregation that will look to me now to show them the will of God. To bring them his healing blessing. How can I disappoint them?

But if this is some kind of poison, some trick, then how can I continue to deceive them?

Another knock on the door.

"Please," said Word. "I'm not done."

To Word's surprise, it wasn't Rev Theo. "Word, it's me, Mack Street."

Mack Street—the one who had known about dreams. Why didn't Word think of him before?

He might have the answers Word needed.

When he got up and let Mack in, though, Mack wasn't alone. He had a woman with him. And when Mack said her name, Yolanda White, Word remembered. The motorcycle-riding bimbo who was getting all the old farts in the neighborhood so upset because she didn't have the right dignity. And here she was with Mack showing her off as proudly as if he had just invented her.

He had all the earmarks of young love. Trouble was, she didn't. She just regarded him calmly and steadily as he invited them to sit down.

Mack came to the point pretty quickly. "We want to get married."

"I'm not licensed yet," said Word. "You got to talk to Rev Theo."

"That's the point," said Mack. "We don't have a lot of time. And even though I'm underage on the books, I'm not really. I've spent at least a whole year wandering in Fairyland while only a few hours passed here in this world."

"Maybe as much as two years."

Word tried to make sense of that one. And failed. "So you're saying that somehow you're really over eighteen but not in a way you could prove to the authorities."

"And she'd have trouble coming up with a birth certificate," said Mack. "So what we want is a kind of unofficial marriage. As far as the government is concerned, no marriage at all. But in the eyes of God, a real one. That's as much as I need."

"That would be great," said Word. "I'm a minister for so short a time I only gave my first sermon last night, and already I'm being asked to break the law."

"But we're not asking for a legally binding marriage. More like those ceremonies they do for gay couples. No legal force, but all the same words as a church marriage."

"Still, this is for Rev Theo."

"No," said Mack. "It's you. Only you. Can't be anybody else."

"Why is that?"

"Because of... because you were with me. Three years ago. When you saw how that old man got healed."

There it was. The very miracle that had gotten Word started on his quest for religious enlightenment.

"Why would that matter, when it comes to marriage?" asked Word.

"Because I'm... she's..."

"Mack," said Yolanda White, "we don't need to do this. I can see Brother Word here doesn't want to do it."

"I want to do whatever will please God," said Word. "Tell me."

"The thing is," said Mack, "she's already married."

"That would probably stop Rev Theo from doing it," said Word. "Thing is, it would stop me, too."

"But the person she's married to is me."

Word wondered if he was crazy. All those years wandering around the neighborhood in a daze.

The invisible hand that had been inserted down Word's spine shifted and shivered and Word wriggled in his seat.