Free The Invitation by Carla Jablonski Page B

believed much in coincidence. He wondered what the man’s book was about. And if Thirteen was his real name.
    The sky was brightening slightly, but it was still dark. “Do you have an interest in the subject?” Dr. Thirteen asked John as he navigated through the ground fog that now surrounded them.
    â€œWell, Tim here is sort of interested in magic. You must have firm opinions on the subject.”
    Dr. Thirteen laughed. “You could say that.”
    â€œWhy?” Tim asked. “What do you know about magic?”
    â€œWell, Tim, I’ve been investigating the occult for fifteen years now. You know, magic, spooks, witch cults. You might call me a professional debunker.”
    â€œYou mean you prove that they’re fake?” This surprised Tim. He gave John a quick glance. What did he think of this?
    â€œIn fifteen years I haven’t seen one thing that didn’t have a rational explanation. Either it was a hoax, or a fraud, or—most often—people wanting so much to believe in powerful forces that they’d convinced themselves of the existence of magic. They’d take simple coincidence or delusion asproof of their superstitions.”
    Tim leaned back in his seat. “Fifteen years,” he said, letting out a low whistle. “That’s longer than I’ve been alive.”
    Dr. Thirteen grinned at Tim in the rearview mirror. “Yes, Tim. With all that experience, I think I can say with some certainty that if magic existed, I would have found some evidence of it by now. And I haven’t.”
    Tim nodded slowly. Yesterday, he would have immediately agreed with Dr. Thirteen. But now…well, everything was different now.
    Tim fell asleep for a while, and when he awoke, the sun had risen. He looked out the window and saw something he recognized—the Golden Gate Bridge. San Francisco already! Terry gave them a short tour—pointing out the old island prison of Alcatraz, the marina where yachts and house boats bobbed gently in the bay, and the Ghirardelli chocolate factory. He let them out at the Fisherman’s Wharf turnaround. The whole area smelled strongly of fish and seaweed, and the calls of the seagulls seemed to make Yo-yo nervous. He dug his talons deeper into Tim’s shoulder.
    â€œMagic is a nice hobby if you’re planning to entertain at a party,” Dr. Thirteen told Tim, leaning out of his window. “But otherwise, don’twaste your time on it.”
    â€œThanks for the ride,” Tim said.
    Dr. Thirteen drove off. Tim watched him go, wondering how John would react to all that they’d heard.
    â€œThat bloke,” John said. “He doesn’t believe in magic at all. And he’s right.”
    â€œWhat?” Tim’s head snapped up so fast it startled Yo-yo, who took off into the air. “What do you mean, he’s right?”
    Constantine shrugged. “Magic doesn’t exist. For him.”
    A cable car ground to a stop, and Tim and John helped the conductor and several prospective passengers turn it around, and then hopped aboard. Yo-yo flew alongside them. At this hour of the morning, with the sun just rising, the trolley was nearly empty.
    â€œI don’t understand,” Tim said.
    â€œYou have to choose it, you see,” John explained. He gave Tim a squinty, sidelong look. Tim wondered if John ever looked at anything straight on. “That’s what we’re offering you. The choice. If you don’t want magic, you’ll never see it again. You’ll live in a rational world in which everything can be explained.”
    That doesn’t sound so bad , Tim thought. Whatwas John trying to tell him? Or was he trying to tell him anything at all? It was hard to figure out.
    â€œThis is us,” John said after they’d ridden awhile. He rang the bell and gracefully stepped off the cable car before it had come to a full stop. Tim scrambled after him. The guy lopes along