As You Think (Part One)

“What happens when what we think is made manifest?” Davon asks me, hands folded neatly beneath his chin. 

The trace of a smile raises the corners of his full, kissable lips, mossy-green eyes twinkling with a devilish gleam. It stirs something in the pit of my stomach, clawing like a kitten at my insides. I feel mesmerized by this man and his slow, sensuous voice. Even as my skin crawls, pleading with me to escape his clutches; before it’s too late.

I clear my throat, flitting my gaze to the potted plant beside the couch he’s sitting on. The large, green leaves of the hostas are trimmed with white and still glistening from a recent watering. I feel his eyes on me as I think, patiently awaiting my thoughts. 

“I’m not really sure why you’re asking, it seems like you answered it yourself,” I tell him, forcing my gaze back to his face. His skin is lightly tanned, nearly the same light brown color as his hair; which is just long enough to curl around his ears.

He laughs, like a deep, dark song to my ears. I shiver in fear or pleasure before he asks, “How so? Explain it to me.”

“Well,” I pause for a moment to arrange my words, my lips pursing, “If whatever you think becomes reality, than whatever you think will be made real.”

“Well, that is the gist of it,” he nods, having dropped his large hands into his lap, “But I’m talking ramifications. Try again, Ms. Foster.”

I nibble my lower lip, sure that he can hear the slowly grinding gears of my mind. I’m unsure how much time passes before I speak, “Well, I suppose the power could be an issue? If anything you think would come to pass, you could take over the whole world if you wanted.”

His hands rise, fingers weaving together and hiding his mouth from my view. The interest I see in his unwavering gaze plays a note on the strings of my heart, I wonder what has come over me. I don’t even know this man, yet everything about him moves me; enchants me. Is that what he’s done?

“Have you cast a spell on me?” I find myself asking, earning a chorus of laughter before I can backtrack.

“No, I have not,” he informs me, lowering his hands and gifting me with his beautiful smile; I feel drunk off the sight of it. 

“Oh,” Is my lame reply, my gaze falling to the plush, shaggy rug at my feet. Stars are splattered around the edges, the milky-way swirls at the center of its midnight blue coloring.

“Anyway,” my gaze snaps back to him, “I can’t say your assessment is wrong, but it’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Then, what are you looking for?”

He smirks, “Come with me.”

He rises from the teal couch, each shift of his body captivating me; the way his tongue brushes the corner of his lip, the graceful way his body bends then straightens. My breath catches when his eyes meet mine, the curl of his lips changing ever so slightly. “Danger!” my body screams, as heat pools between my legs; in that private spot.

I gulp, his eyes sparkle with amusement as he speaks, “Are you just going to sit there all day?”

I stand up, thinking that my movements are not nearly as enthralling. “Sorry!”

He leads me from the livingroom into a small room attached to the side of his house. My gaze falls on the large, screenless window. It hangs open, allowing a cool breeze to sweep through the room, carrying with it the scent of herbs. Sweet lavender and the piney smell of rosemary are the only ones I recognize, but a myriad of others join them. 

Curiosity overrides all else; I scurry to the window. leaning over the sill, I can see the canopy of herbs resting in the rich soil just below, “How lovely!”

“Outside of their practical uses, their scent works wonders in relaxing my clientele.”

I tear myself from the window, turning to him with crinkled brows, “Clientele? I thought this stuff, you know; magic, was supposed to be kept secret?” At least, that’s what Ms. Falkum told me.

“I’m not surprised,” he starts, moving to lean against the rosewood desk back against the wall. It’s so close, I wonder how he ever manages to sit behind it. “Nora is rather...” he clicks his tongue, “Stuffy.”

“If the two of you have such different views, why did she send me here?” I ask. 

“That,” He kicks off the desk, moving toward me, “Is the question.”

“And the answer?” 

“Let me know when you find it,” he winks.

I bite my lip, frustration over powering attraction at his display. Ms. Falkum had insisted I become this Davon guy’s apprentice, she hadn’t even told me his last name; just stuffed an address in my hand and left. I’m not sure why I came here, I’d only known the woman from the café I work at. But I did, doing otherwise had never even crossed my mind. 

“Now you’re wondering if Nora has put a spell on you,” my eyes widen at his words, had he read my mind? “First me and now her,” he chuckles, closing the last bit of distance between us, “Has it not crossed your mind that magic itself might be the source of your enchantment?”

“A spell is magic, I’m not sure I understand what you’re suggesting.” Must everything this man says be a riddle?

He turns away, casually strolling over to his desk as he tells me, “Get the door,” just as a soft knock meets my ears.

It comes not from the door we’d entered through, but one I’d failed to notice in my rush to the window. It must be the main entrance to, what I know understand is, his office.

I frown at his order, despite the fact my feet are already carrying me to the door. Swinging it open, I’m greeted with the sight of a meek girl who looks young enough to be in high school; which makes me question why she’s here during school hours. 

“Um,” her mocha eyes flicker between myself and Davon, who is once more leaning against the rosewood desk, as her hands grip and release her plaid skirt, “I’m looking for Davon? I know it sounds crazy, but a bird dropped this flier on my way home from school yesterday,” She says, the produces the paper from the beige bag hanging from her shoulder.

She offers it to me, a question is her eyes, before stepping inside. The flier in my hand seems like a joke. Rough sketches of wands and pendulums are among the visuals, but it’s the words that have my mouth twisting with distaste; ‘Having a problem? Get the wizard, he knows what to do!’ he can’t be serious.

“Kimberly,” he starts, offering his hand to the cautiously approaching young woman, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ah, you as well,” she says, gingerly shaking his hand. She glances back at me over her shoulder and I force a smile in response, it disappears as quickly as her attention.

“So,” Davon retracts his hand, using it in tangent with the other to lift himself onto the desk. He crosses his ankles and asks, “What can I help you with?”

“Well, to start,” she pauses, “How do you know my name? Is it a trick of some kind? Or maybe you purposely had that flier delivered to me? Though I don’t know how you could, it wasn’t a pigeon.”

A short, strangled laugh passes his lips in response, before he covers his mouth with the side of his hand; playing it off as some strange cough. He clears his throat, “I assure you, even if it had been a pigeon, I have no time to train a bird.”

“Then how?” she asks, while I ponder my earlier thoughts on him reading minds.

“I know many things, dear Kimberly,” he says in a tone of mystery, which has me rolling my eyes. Why had I been swooning over this man? “Now tell me, why have you come here?”

“Well,” she grips her skirt, “I want to stop thinking the way I do.”

“And how do you think?” he asks, the dullness of his eyes tells me he already knows the answer. The glance he spares me lets me know that this question is for my sake, I wonder what he’s up to.

“Negatively,” she sighs, “All the time.”

“Well, I have just the thing to correct that!” Davon says with a smile, glancing at me once more before he hurries back into the house.

I’m left standing there, with a girl more awkward than I feel. She looks at me, like a deer caught in a headlight. I can only imagine what’s going on in her head right now.

“Is he a real wizard?” she asks me, her gaze sliding to the door he’d exited through.

“He is,” I tell her, though I’d seen no magic from him. Nora on the other hand, she’d given me a show; grasping the stars in her hands. The display had been breath taking, shimmering lights of far off planets danced in her palm. I’d wondered how they could be so small and she’d told me “Anything is possible with magic.”

“Good,” she smiles faintly, just as Davon returns.

His stride is quick as he makes her way to her, holding a flask of liquid that is oddly bright for being brown, “Take this, drink it all.”

Her face pales at the sight of it. My nose scrunches in disgust. He raises the flask to her mouth, opening his own with an when she gives him a questioning look. Hesitantly, she takes the flask from his hand. With a final glance in my direction, she downs it in one go and begins to gag.

“It’s horrible!” she cries, wiping viciously at her tongue with the sleeve of her white, knitted sweater.

“Well of course, that should have been obvious by the look of it,” he says, voice ringing with amusement. 

“Will this really fix me?” She asks, expression still soured by the potion’s taste.

“Give it a week,” he tells her, snatching the empty container from her shaky hand.

“How can I repay you?” she asks, despite the skepticism crinkling her nose.

He smiles, gaze shifting to me as he says, “By returning at the week’s end.”