She found herself walking the old grounds around the house, not knowing why, feeling that something had changed, sensing that something was wrong even before she felt his presence. A cold breeze stirred as he spoke.
“Welcome back to 2016, Silendrial,” Ted Wells said. “I guess your husband will have to win that fifth ring all over again.”
Gisele Bundchen turned to face him and as she did, Wells body convulsed. Putting his hands on his knees as if he was about to vomit, he spit his tongue onto the ground. It burst into flames and burned away to nothing.
“It’s bad enough you know my true name,” Gisele said. “Never let it cross your tongue again.”
Wells straightened, his lower jaw moving left to right, his lips pressed together. Trying out his new tongue he said, “By babobobies.” He took a deep breath and tried again, slowly. “My apologies.”
With that, he threw up his right arm in a vain attempt to strike back. He staggered back a step, nearly blind with pain as his arm was torn away at the shoulder by a dismissive gesture from Silendrial’s left hand. He fell briefly to one knee, his clothing and the ground around him soaked with blood.
After a moment, Wells gathered himself and restored his arm, flexing it, slowly making a fist as the blood resolved itself into a wisp of crimson smoke that was carried off by a gust of the chill morning zephyr.
Rising again to his feet Wells said, “We could do this all day, I suppose.”
“That would be fun,” Gisele replied.
“Forgive me,” Wells said. “I should have known better than to challenge your powers. I am grateful for your mercy.”
She stood, still and silent.
“Not that I am without powers of my own,” Wells said.
“You’re a cookbook magician with the soul of a dung beetle,” Gisele said.
“Perhaps,” Wells said. “But I shouldn’t be taken too lightly. After all, I was able to convince millions of people that the greatest man to ever play the game of football was a liar and a cheat and I did it with a single text message and an old man’s leaky bladder.”
The easy smile disappeared from his face as the low, slow growl drew his eyes down to the jaguars that flanked Silendrial. “My pets are hungry,” she said. “This is Bill on my right and Jules on my left. They have a taste for rotten meat, as you can plainly see by their interest in you.”
Wells knew he could recover from any magical wound Silendrial could inflict but natural world was another thing. Had she conjured these cats? Were they pets?
Wells smiled and said, “You’d never do it. You’re too good, too… moral. It’s your fatal flaw, really.”
“It certainly isn’t yours,” Gisele noted. “But you’re right. I would never use my powers to seriously harm or kill a human being. Then again, you know how I feel about you.”
Wells chuckled nervously. Gisele smiled. He decided he would rather not take the chance.
Wells bowed slightly, “I will take my leave then.”
And he was gone.
The cats walked over to where Wells had stood and sniffed the ground. They growled softly. They rejoined Gisele as she resumed her walk.
She considered the rising morning sun. Her beloved was off in California, playing catch with a young man who would receive the game-winning touchdown pass in next February’s Super Bowl. It was a secret she knew she would have to keep to herself. She smiled as she considered that moment when Tom would once again stand on the winner’s podium.
There is no greatness without adversity. As much as it hurt her, she knew she couldn’t take that away from Tom.
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