To watch Maggie…her eyes rolling back in her skull…as soft moans of ecstasy escaped her blue lips…as her hands met at her waist, then vanished into the folds of her dress…as her back arched…Roman felt the true darkness of what he did. Many times Roman heard her breathing hard, gripping the iron gates, twisting her body into impossible shapes behind him.

Often the thought of where Maggie came from haunted him. Sitting with her in a restaurant. Standing beside her at the check-in desk of a hotel. Driving with her, always, by his side. He had no respite, no break from the presence of what she stood for.

Maggie squealed with pleasure as they passed cemeteries they weren’t prepared to empty.

The night before their midnight show in Goblin, Roman and Maggie sat quietly in their dressing room following a show. The pair had just thanked an apparent fan and his wife for their kind words and Roman, in a playful display of magic, shut the door on them with his mind. After doing so he turned to Maggie and told her,

“Tomorrow, Maggie. Time to clean up again.”

But Maggie never lost track of the days they were supposed to refresh Death, send new bodies to Roman’s always eager promoter.

By the time they pulled into Goblin the next morning, Roman behind the wheel of his signature used black Mercedes, Roman Emperor considered himself to be the greatest magician in the world.

As he passed between the giant Sherman topiaries of George Carroll and Jonathan Trachtenbroit, he smiled.

“There have been eighty tickets sold for this one already,” he told Maggie. “I’m sure she’ll be happy with her cut.”

15

Pete was at Mr. Bench’s shop when he saw the black Mercedes drive by. He couldn’t see the driver, but he was positive the blond woman in the passenger seat, looking up through the glass at Goblin, was Maggie.

He’d read every single magazine and paper Mr. Bench gave him. He knew as much as someone could about Roman Emperor. So when the Mercedes passed, Pete’s only thought was to follow it.

“What is it, Pete?” Mr. Bench asked, sensing Pete was distracted.

“Um, I’m gonna run to the Transistor Planet for a second.” His mind raced. “There’s a new game out about witch hunts. Brian at school told me about it. Said they might have it already.”

“Witch hunts, huh? My, how games have changed.”

“I’ll see you, Mr. Bench!”

Then he was out the door.

He searched the streets, looking for the car and peering in every storefront he passed. He moved fast, covering three blocks in a hurry, and headed east. He stopped at a light, Lily and Neptune, and saw Emperor’s Mercedes parked a block away.

Pete’s body stiffened.

The light changed and he had to tell himself to cross the street. Legs like rubber, he passed the black car, hardly able to believe it was here, in Goblin, in person, and he was so electrified that he looked for them everywhere, it seemed, at once, until all of downtown was a shimmering steel blur.