I managed to convince Leah to order pizza. While we waited, I explained my healing magic to her.

“…and then I do this special dance. It’s something that I picked up during my time with an aboriginal tribe. It was on an ancient tablet that’s been passed down for generations. You see, it foretold of my arrival as the—”

“Okay. So, magic is real, you can heal any wound, and you can bring back the dead,” Leah said.

“Hey. I wasn’t done.”

“I’m not sure I completely believe you, but if it is true then the hospital lied,” she said to herself, then she looked up at me. “You’re not a con artist. You’re the real deal. What else could explain this?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for the last hour!”

“No. You’ve been making sh- crap up for the last hour.”

“False. Everything that comes out of my mouth is 100% fact. I really rescued the fairy princess from goblins at the lost temple of Gerosafat.”

“It’s Jehoshaphat and there is no such thing as fairies or goblins,” she said, but then she started staring into space. “…or is there?”

“Hey, did you clean my apartment?" I asked. She shook her head and looked at me.

“What? No. Dale did that. It was a disaster.” The doorbell rang.

“Pizza!” I ran to the door, but it wasn’t pizza.

“Hey Jesse,” Dale said.

“Oh… hey Dale,” I replied slouching. He pushed past me, beelined to the couch, and picked up the TV remote.

“What the heck, Dale?” Leah said.

“Oh. Sorry, snookums.” He rushed over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Not ‘sorry snookums.’ Why didn’t you tell me he had actual magical powers?” she demanded, gesturing at me. Dale shrugged.

“I forgot.”

“You forgot,” she said. “How do you forget about magic?”

“Well, I thought he was bat sh- I thought he was crazy,” Dale said, glancing at me. “Then one day he healed my bloody knuckles. He kept showing off after that, so I kind of got used to it and forgot.”

“You got used to magical powers… and forgot.”

“Well, yeah.”

“I’d have never forgotten to tell someone as beautiful as you,” I said.

I didn’t think a man Dale’s size could move as fast as he did. I didn’t even have a chance to react before my feet were dangling. He held me up against the wall by the front of my white dress shirt. I’d changed out of my perverted Halloween costume the first chance I got.

“It was a joke! A joke!”

His furious gaze remained for a moment, then both of us looked down at my hands on his fists. They were coated in frost. A grin appeared on Dale’s face and his brown eyes glittered when they met my steely grays.

“You never told me you had ice powers,” he said. I shrugged.

“Well, it’s just kinda something I picked up.” The doorbell rang again. “Pizza!”

He set me down and I rushed to answer it.

“Pietro,” I exclaimed. “I missed you so much.”

“Oh, hey Jesse, I wasn’t expecting to see you. Are you all better now?” Pietro said.

“Yes, thanks to you.”

“Still a weirdo, I see. That’s fine as long as you keep ordering pizzas. You got the dough?”

“Dough. Because you make pizza!” I laughed hysterically. “That’s why I love you, Pietro. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” I said and he laughed. “Leah! Pay the man,” I added, grabbing the five boxes of pizza he carried. I set them down on the bare kitchen table as Leah grudgingly went to the door.

“Hey guys, come check this out. I’m famous,” Dale said. “You too, Pietro.”

“Nah, I have to get back to the Palace,” he replied as he started walking out of view.

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“The palace…Ha! I love that guy,” I said. Leah shook her head as she returned to the living room. I joined her and Dale carrying one of the pizza boxes, already on my third piece. I dropped some sauce on the floor. It made me wish I had a dog, but it was fine. Hopefully, Dale would clean it up later.

He was flipping through the channels on TV. The famous philanthropist, Evan King, was answering an interview question with a British accent about his and his wife’s charity. A stunning actress, Irma Betty, kissed her co-star, Omar Hughs, in some movie. A music video for Torn Venture’s new chart topping single. A news station covering a local story.

“…on top of her. He was holding her down!” exclaimed a raspy woman’s voice. It was an older woman in a shawl. She was standing in front of some square hedges.

“Candace Everdeen and her husband saw the events unfold from across the street after hearing a loud bang come from their neighbor’s yard,” a female reporter said.

“I thought a bomb went off, then I saw my neighbor’s daughter being attacked by a man covered in blood. I told my husband that he needed to do something!”

“According to neighbors, Cara Hasbrook was terminally ill, and they thought her to be dead a couple days prior to the incident, but Jenny Hammerschmidt had a different story to tell,” the reporter explained.

“That Debra Hasbrook is nothing but a liar. She was always talking about how sick her daughter was. What a load of horse *BEEP*. She was just looking for attention. It was obvious by the way that girl’s boyfriend was beating the *BEEP* out of her. There was blood everywhere, then they got up like it was nothing. I tell you—there’s something wrong with that family,” a prudish, wrinkled woman explained.

The reporter continued, “One witness spoke with the assailant.”

A haggard man with dark rings under his eyes stared at an invisible object on the ground.

“His eyes. There was something about his eyes. It was like he could see into my very soul.” The man’s face contorted momentarily, then he looked at the reporter with a mad fervor. “He was the devil! That’s the only explanation. He could have snapped his fingers and we would have all been cast into the abyss.” The man pulled on the chain of a necklace. A cross emerged from his shirt, which he clasped in both hands, then he closed his eyes and started whispering prayers. Overreacting much? All I said was ‘no’.

“That’s a bold claim, but as we step inside the Hasbrook home, perhaps it isn’t so far-fetched. Behind me you can see the level of destruction. It doesn’t look like something one man would be capable of,” the reporter said. “Mrs. Hasbrook and her husband claim that they just wanted to help their daughter.”

The scene cut to an interview with Mrs. Hasbrook. Cara sat next to her, comforting her mother with an arm behind her back. “I just wanted to save my daughter. I was desperate. When I saw Jesse’s billboard, I thought, what could it hurt?

“At first, I thought it was a miracle, but then Cara explained the truth. It was her medicine finally taking effect. This so-called miracle worker is just a con man.” They hugged then and both turned to the interviewer with smiles on their faces, but something was off about them. Their smiles didn’t seem genuine, and Mrs. Hasbrook’s eyes had an odd softness to them. Suddenly, Cara looked directly into the camera, and my hackles rose. It was like she could see through the TV, right at me. I paused stuffing my face to stare back.

My concern was replaced by delight when the screen showed my incredibly well-crafted advertisement. “This is the billboard that Mrs. Hasbrook saw. According to the ad, Jesse Gil claims that he can heal the sick and raise the dead. We tried to reach out to Mr. Gil for comment, but his security detail stopped us at the door.”

On the screen, Dale stood in his security uniform and brought two fingers to his ear as if he was part of the secret service. He dropped his hand and spoke with an official tone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Mr. Gil is not accepting visitors at this time.”

“Nice!” I exclaimed and high fived Dale. Leah facepalmed.

“It’s clear the Hasbrooks got more than they bargained for,” the reporter continued. “Some are saying that the family is lying, while others are saying it’s a miracle. One man even claims that the mysterious Mr. Gil is the devil. It’s hard to tell who’s right. Could the devil really be walking among us? This is Jenna Farrow reporting. Back to you John.”

The smile on my face grew. The news anchor, John, made some clever remark about trading his soul to cure a stubbed toe. The co-anchor’s fake laugh grated on me, but it didn’t dampen my excitement.

“Stop grinning like that. You’re creeping me out,” Leah said. My smile had become so wide that I thought my mouth would escape the confines of my face.

“They showed my billboard on TV. That’s like a free commercial,” I said. “Do you have any idea how expensive it is to buy a commercial?”

“You think that stupid billboard is going to bring you more business? I thought it was a joke.”

I pulled back in shock.

“It’s not stupid,” I said and looked to Dale for support. “Right, Dale?” Leah looked at him and he looked back, then he turned to me

“It’s stupid.”

“You said you liked it!”

“I lied.”

“How could you do such a cruel thing?”

“She’s my wife and I support her because she’s always right.” Leah smiled at his words.

On TV, they panned to a cute meteorologist. Contrary to what was expected, she didn’t join in the news anchors’ jokes.

She wore a modest blue blouse. Naturally curly, shoulder-length hair wrapped around a face with soft lines but pronounced cheekbones. Her eyes were the color of autumn. Browns and yellows, with subdued flecks of green. She was pretty in the childhood-friend-that-you-had-a-crush-on-but-she-thinks-of-you-more-like-a-brother kind of way. She glared at something off-screen to the left. My left, her right.

“Jesse Gil isn’t the devil,” the attractive meteorologist said. “He’s a good man. He healed my aunt last week out of the kindness of his heart.” That didn’t sound like me at all; kindness doesn’t pay the bills.

The camera was back on John and his co-anchor. It was awkwardly silent. The anchors didn’t seem to know how to respond to the woman’s off-scripted comment. They wore forced smiles, and their eyes darted to the right while signaling sharply with exaggerated head-flicks. My right, their left. The camera panned back to the meteorologist, and the weather forecast began as if nothing had transpired.

“Oh yeah,” Leah said. “I recognize her. Her aunt wasn’t expected to make it to the end of the week, then suddenly, she up and walked out saying she was all better.” I wasn’t listening.

My thoughts were on Mrs. Hasbrook’s odd behavior. Something was off about that, and when Cara broke the fourth wall… it was otherworldly. The way her returned-to-the-living gray eyes—wait. Her eyes hadn’t been gray. They’d been black.