The Invitation (15 page)

“You,” exclaimed Mister E. He pointed at the girl. “I know you. You're Death. You've come for the boy, haven't you? Not me.”

Tim gaped at her. This pretty girl who looked like she'd be at home at a rave was…Death? He looked at Mister E, who seemed panicked by her appearance.

Death smiled. It was a warm, friendly smile. “Hello, Tim. Hello E. No, I'm not here for either of you. I took both of you long ago. But it's nice to see you again. I'm here for the universe. And for my big brother, Destiny.”

The man gazed at her fondly. “It sometimes seemed as if I would never turn the final page, never close my book for the last time. It is a relief to lay down my burden, sister. I thank you.”

“'Bye, sweetums.” The woman gave her brother a kiss on the cheek. Then he faded away like a reverse Polaroid snapshot.

Death turned to Tim and Mister E. “I can't let either of you stay here. You see, this really is it. The universe is over. You two have to go.”

“Tim, this is yours,” she said, and handed him his yo-yo, now a plastic toy again. He was glad Yo-yo hadn't vanished forever, even if it wasn't a living, breathing creature anymore. She held out
Mister E's dark glasses. “And I believe these belong to you.”

Mister E snatched his glasses from her hand and put them on. “I must kill him,” Mister E pleaded.

“No, that burden will not be yours,” Death replied.

“Then what do I do?” He sounded lost.

“You, Mister E, will go back to your own time,” Death said. “But you'll have to go the hard way, I'm afraid. Don't worry, you'll get there eventually.”

“You don't understand,” Mister E protested. “It's impossible. We're too far forward. We can't go back.”

“Don't be silly. Of course you can. So get going, Mister E. You're walking back, step by step through the ages.”

Death pointed a long pale finger past Mister E. Shoulders slumped, defeated, Mister E turned around and started walking, getting smaller and smaller, until he was nothing but a tiny dot.

“What about me?” Tim asked. “Do I have to walk all the way back through time too?”

“No,” Death replied. “You've done enough traveling already. Close your eyes, Tim.”

Again with the closed eyes.
But he trusted this
darkly dressed, pretty woman. Since she was Death, and was sending him home, he figured he'd be okay. She didn't want to keep him. He'd survive. Wouldn't he?

“S
O THIS IS IT, THEN,”
Constantine said wearily, hunching his shoulders against the damp London chill.

“Yes.” The Stranger sounded just as weary.

“We really messed this one up.”

“Not entirely,” Dr. Occult argued. “We closed down the Brotherhood of the Cold Flame in India, after all. And they would have killed Tim.”

“So instead we handed him over to a maniac who's done the job for them? Terrific.”

“One day, another child will come,” the Stranger said. “And when that day comes we will have learned from this.”

“You are out of your tiny mind!” Constantine exploded. “If you think I am ever going to get involved in another of your bloody fiascoes—”

“Stop it!” Timothy Hunter shouted. “All of you.”

The three men whirled around at the sound of
the boy's voice. They stared at him.

Tim grinned.
Finally, I got one over on them for a change
, he thought with satisfaction. “Yeah. I'm not dead. No thanks to you lot.”

“Tim!” Constantine rushed over and clapped a large hand on Tim's back.

“Welcome home, child,” the Stranger said.

“We are pleased to see you,” added Dr. Occult.

“But how—”

“There was a woman there. At the end of time.” Tim grinned up at John Constantine. “You probably would have liked her. Anyway, she sent me back here.”

“And E?” asked the Stranger.

“He tried to kill me,” Tim said. “I guess his punishment was that he'd have to find his own way back. The woman told him he would have to walk.”

“It will be a long walk from eternity to here. He has my sympathies,” the Stranger said.

“Even after he tried to kill Tim?” Constantine demanded.

“I'm afraid so,” the Stranger admitted. “In some ways, E's road is the hardest of all.”

“Where's your owl?” Dr. Occult asked.

Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out the yo-yo. “He saved my life when Mister E tried
to kill me,” Tim said. He stroked the plastic toy.

“The bird cared for you,” Dr. Occult said.

Tim held out the yo-yo. “Can you bring him back?”

Dr. Occult looked sad, and shook his head. “No.”

“Oh.” Tim slipped the yo-yo back into his pocket and cleared his throat. He looked up at the three men. “So, I'm back. I've been all the way to the end of time, and I'm back.”

“Timothy, you have seen what we have shown you,” said the Stranger. “You have seen the past, you have met a handful of the present practitioners of the art. You have glimpsed some of the worlds that touch yours. You have seen the beginning and you have seen the end. Now yours is the decision.”

Tim shifted his feet. He knew at some point they'd be asking him his choice, but he hadn't realized it would be so soon. He'd just gotten back. He hadn't had time to think.

“If you choose magic, you will never be able to return to the life you once lived,” the Stranger reminded him. “Your world may be more…exciting. But it will also be more dangerous and unreliable. And once you begin to walk the path of magic, you can never step off it.” The Stranger paused to let that sink in.

“Or you can choose the path of rationality,” he continued. “Live in a normal world. Die a normal death. Less exciting, but safer. The choice is yours.”

How could he choose? Tim felt cold from the bottom of his feet to the tips of his hair, cold through and through. Like fear—but deeper, more in his marrow than in his bones.

“I can't!” he blurted. He gazed down at his shoes. “I'm sorry. I appreciate what you've done for me. All the stuff I've seen. All that. But I've learned a lot of things.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels. He still couldn't quite face them. “The main thing I've learned is that it all has a price. I mean, you can get whatever you want, but it all has to be paid for. Like Merlin said. And I don't want to pay what it costs. I'm…I'm scared.”

He took a deep breath, then finally looked up to meet their eyes. “I'm sorry. Are you angry?”

“It is your choice, Timothy,” the Stranger assured him. “Always and forever your choice. It is not our place to approve or disapprove.”

“Good-bye,” Dr. Occult said.

“So long, kid,” said John Constantine.

“'Bye,” Tim mumbled. He looked down at his shoes again. When he looked back up, the Trenchcoat Brigade was gone. He was left alone on the
rainy deserted street, back in his own neighborhood, back in his old world. Back in London. Back in reality.

“Wait!” Tim cried. “I didn't mean it! I do want it! I do! I…” His voice trailed off as he realized what he'd done. And that it was too late to fix it.

N
OW THEY WERE THREE,
the men in the trench coats. Constantine sat at the aged bar, smoking cigarette after cigarette.

“I said I didn't want anything to do with it,” he groused. “I should have stuck to my guns.” He looked at the other two men. Neither responded. “It's all been a bit of a washout, wouldn't you say?”

Dr. Occult and the Stranger sat in silence.

“Let's see.” Constantine stood and paced, his feet kicking up the layers of dust that had been undisturbed until their recent visit. “Final score. Tim loses his one and only chance at magic, and we lose Mister E—not that I'm losing any sleep over that one.”

“It's strange, Constantine,” said Dr. Occult. “All the things I have heard about you. No one ever told me you were stupid.”

“What? Hey, listen—”

“No.
You
listen. Listen and think.” Dr. Occult waited for John to sit back down before continuing. “We told Timothy that we would give him a choice, did we not? And we did. He has seen magic. He knows it works. He has already walked a harder path than most initiates would ever dream of.”

“Timothy's choice was not made a few moments ago,” said the Stranger. “It was made when we first met.”

“What?” Constantine looked at the two men, puzzled. Then he remembered. They had asked if he would go with them on the journey.
That
had been the choice. And Tim had said, “Yes. I'll come with you.”

“You lied to him,” John said.

“I did not lie to him, Constantine,” the Stranger protested. “I told him it was his choice to make, and it was. I asked him if he wanted to take this journey. He did.”

A small smile crept onto Constantine's rugged face. “And people accuse
me
of being manipulative. Now what?”

“For now, I think we ought to wait,” said the Stranger. “Observe the boy.”

“Just wait and see?” said Constantine. “Where have I heard that little refrain before?”

“We will wait.” The Stranger nodded.

“And we will see,” finished Dr. Occult.

 

The boy who had the potential to become the most powerful human adept in all history stumbled home in the rain. Miserable, cold, wet, hungry, and disappointed. Disappointed into a kind of numbness.

He arrived at his flat and opened the door to the familiar gloom. The only light came from the television set. His father sat in front of it, surrounded by beer bottles.

“Tim?” his father called as he slunk past him, heading for the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Have a good day, son?”

Tim went into the living room. “How long have I been gone, Dad?”

“What is this? Twenty questions? A few hours.”

“Didn't I phone you from San Francisco? Or from Brighton, with Auntie Blodwyn?”

“Don't be a pillock,” his dad scolded. “No one's phoned since you've been out. So what did you do, then? Where did you go? Seems to me like I'm the one who should be asking the questions as to your whereabouts.”

“Nowhere. I was just out. You know.”

“Pull up a chair. This is a good one. Great bit
at the end, where they drive these minis all through Rome.”

“No thanks. I think I'll go up to my room for a bit.”

“I'll put on a pizza for dinner, then.”

Tim climbed the stairs to his room. It seemed small. Cramped. Dead. He pulled the yo-yo from his pocket and gazed at it. Had it happened at all?

He flipped open his journal. Usually he felt better if he could write it all out. He grabbed a pen…

Nothing.

He felt washed in anger; he could drown in it. How could they do that to him? Putting on all that pressure! Dragging him all over the place, from the beginning of time to the end. Showing him worlds with so little explanation. How could he be expected to choose after what they'd put him through?

“I don't need you lot!” he shouted.

They had offered him so much, confused him, changed him, then abandoned him. Well, he'd show them! “I don't need you at all. You or anyone. All I need—is to
believe
!”

Tim's hand tingled, as if he'd gotten an electric shock. The yo-yo burst into a new shape, a new form.

It was an owl again!

Yo-yo flew out Tim's open window and vanished into the night.

Tim stumbled backward, gasping.
Did I…? How did…?

Then he knew…knew everything. He threw his arms into the air. “Magic!” he cried.

Magic.