[I haven't written fanfiction in a long time so please be gentle! I want this to be a MordrakexOC fic that weaves in and out of the show but is mostly independent of it. I'm not really sure where this is going at the moment though, I may change my mind. Not much happens in this chapter but Mordrake will come into it soon!]
Chapter One
Derry, Maine, 1949
'Step inside, step inside! You, Sir – dare you enter the realm of the Mystical Mister Magico? No? How about you, sonny?'
The small boy stopped and blinked owlishly up at the hugely tall man, whose patience was wearing thin. Big Jim sighed inwardly but turned a grinning face towards the kid. Trying to goad carnival-goers into the tents of his fellow performers was hot work and the day was only getting hotter.
'Is he real magic?' the boy queried, self-importantly. 'Because I saw a circus last year and there was a magician there, but he didn't do real magic. You could tell he had the flowers up his sleeve. And my dad says there's no such thing as real magic!'
'Well, you'll have to go inside to find out, son…' Big Jim answered with a chuckle and a playful ruffle of the boy's hair. His hand was big enough to crush the boy's skull in one fist. The child narrowed his eyes up at him but didn't walk away. The allure of the red tent's shadowy depths was tempting. Above the entrance was a banner reading 'Mister Magico – he will amaze you!' He could hear laughter and snatches of music, and could see a large crowd gathered around a stage. Slowly, the little boy approached the crowd, the flaps of the tent closing around him and swallowing him in noisome darkness.
He pushed his way through the mass of people, squeezing himself into the gap between a mother and her gaggle of squealing girls. The crowd was clapping and wooping with joy at the show, but the boy was so small he had to stand on his tiptoes to see what was happening on the makeshift stage. When he saw what they were clapping for he laughed with delight. A slim young man was stood facing the crowd and drinking in their applause with a grin on his face, a white dove on his wrist. He was wearing what looked to the boy like very funny, old-fashioned clothes; tight black pantaloons, a starched white shirt with a green waistcoat and green cravat done up to his chin, and a top hat perched jauntily on his slicked-back red hair.
As the boy stared the mysterious man swept a handkerchief over the bird on his wrist and, in an instant, it was gone. Then, with a wink towards the audience, he spun around and whipped off his top hat with a flourish, releasing what looked like a hundred doves which came spilling out of the hat and flew in every direction. Several women in the crowd screamed and moved to cover their heads but just as suddenly as they had been produced, the doves disappeared and were replaced with a gentle white snow. What came raining down from the air were feathers and the boy jumped up to catch some in his fists. The audience went wild and Magical Mister Magico took a bow.
'So, what did you think?' Big Jim asked the boy as he left the tent some time later. The tall man smiled wryly at the rapturous look on the child's face.
'It was amazing!' the boy cried, eyes shining. 'It was… it was…'
'Real magic?'
'Yes!'
Big Jim watched the boy run away, no doubt running home to tell his parents about the show he'd just seen. That was for the best. Dale Thribodeau's travelling circus needed all the visitors it could get. The new performers had helped some, Jim conceded, but… well… the addition of a freakshow to the circus didn't seem completely right to him. He'd been raised to treat poor souls like the ones they'd recently taken on with kindness and Christian charity, and something about seeing the 'pinheads' being lead around the stage, and the man with no arms juggling with his feet, well… He didn't like it and that was that. This Mister Magico, though – that was a completely different case.
The magician had showed up to the circus six months beforehand. No one knew where that little enigma had been before, but that was no surprise. Performers often weren't too detailed about their pasts. A tint of an English accent was the only clue. The magic act had been a real draw, and Dale had been talking about making Magico a headline act soon. Magicians were common in circuses and good magicians were easy enough to come by, but this was different. Visitors left the tent shaking their heads, and even after they'd walked around the rest of the stalls, went around on the Ferris wheel and eaten their cotton candy, even then they still couldn't agree on how the tricks were done. It was just like real magic, they all decided.
Big Jim wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and ducked inside the tent. Pushing his way backstage, his head bent low so as not to hit it, he caught sight of Magico who was applying more makeup for the next performance.
'Great show again today', he told the magician. 'You're all they're talking about when they walk out of here'.
'Thanks, Jim', Magico said with a smile. The frantic energy of the performance was gone and replaced with an expression that was tired but kind.
'Really, they come outta here not knowing what hit them', Jim continued, leaning on a crate and causing it to creak with the weight. 'It's just like real magic, you know? I don't know how you do it.'
The magician looked into the cracked mirror that was leant against a tent pole and pulled at the bun holding their hair up, freeing it to fall down in waves. Mister Magico laughed and watched her reflection laughing back at her.
'Just like real magic, huh?' she smiled and Jim nodded, not completely understanding what was so funny.