The Marvelous Magicians [ASoUE/Dresden Files]

For Beatrice:

You cast a spell on my heart.

And then you vanished.​

Magic. A word that evokes a sense of wonder, a lack of understanding, and the simple idea that one must be tricked in order for it to work. In this story that you are about to read, the word magic will become synonymous with trickery, with bloodshed, and with tiny winged men that gorge themselves on pies made of fruit, cheese, and bread. It is a word that will create fear and loathing within you. In fact, this story of magic should not be read by any one with a weak stomach, a poor constitution or good taste. They should read safer stories, like Alice in Wonderland, the Hardy Boys, or Fifty Shades of Grey instead. Myself, I will remain doing what I have always done, what I will always endeavor to do. I will continue my research into what has happened to the Baudelaire children. The unfortunate events that ever seem to befall them is a constant source of vexation on my soul, and what happens in this story will be no different. I must reiterate my warning once more. Close the page. Turn back now. For if you find yourself brave enough to face what lies ahead, you may find yourself in the very position the Baudelaires did as they explored the world of magic in the distant land of Iowa.

This story starts much like it ends, with Mister Poe eager and perturbed. The bank’s special Vice-President in Charge of Orphan Affairs sat in his office, located in the bank vault, speaking on the phone.

“Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, sir. Count Olaf, sir.” Mister Poe recounted to his superiors at Mulctuary Money Management the events that went on at the Prufrock Preparatory School. “In disguise, sir... Yes, sir... Of course, we have plenty of files, sir… Oh, how many?”

Jacquelyn, Mister Poe’s secretary, was missing from her desk this afternoon, a fact that perturbed Mister Poe, though he didn’t let it show with his superior.

“Yes, sir. No, Sir was unable to be found after that incident, sir.” Mister Poe covered the mouthpiece of his phone. “Jacqueline? Are you there?”

Of course, Jacqueline was absent from the office and could not answer. Absent, in this case, means missing, not there, possibly occupied with other activities. This perturbed Mister Poe more.

“No, sir. She appears to be on another one of her sabbaticals that I don’t remember approving. Yes, it is hard to find good help. Oh, really? Yes, I’ll let the Baudelaires know at once.” Mister Poe took out a pen and a pad of paper. “Distant… relative. Which meaning of distant was that? Yes, sir. Agreed to take them in. Good. Thank you, sir. I look forward to it, sir.”

Mister Poe hung up the phone, stood, and walked across his office to his secretary’s desk. Frowning at the papers and shut down computer, he called out again. “Jacqueline? Just where is that secretary? I don’t recall approving any time off.”

Let it not be said that Mister Poe did not care, in his own way, for the Baudelaire children. He did retrieve them from Prufrock Preparatory School, once it had been determined that the school’s treatment of them was unacceptable, after all. But one must wonder how much he actually observed about the Baudelaires and their feelings, for when he went into the hallway outside his office, to look for his wayward secretary, he practically bowled over them.

“Jacqueline! Could you bring me the—Oh, there you are, Baudelaires.” Mister Poe narrowly stopped in time to avoid stepping on Sunny’s hand.

The toddler gurgled something that would likely be translated as “Watch where you’re going, punk,” were she able to speak, of course.

“Mister Poe, be careful; that’s Sunny,” Violet said as she swept her younger sister up into her arms.

“Oh, Baudelaires, I have wonderful news. You can forget the troubles you had at Prufrock Preparatory, and all that happened before,” said Mister Poe.

“You found the Quigleys?” asked Klaus. “They’re safe?”

“Oh, no.” Mister Poe shook his head. “The police are still looking for that Count Omar character and the Quigley twins. They’ll turn up sooner or later, and when they do, the police will get them.”

“They aren’t twins,” Violet said.

“They’re triplets,” Klaus added. “And it’s Count Olaf.”

“Violet, Klaus,” Mister Poe said, chidingly. “There are only two of them. Triplets means there are three.”

Rather than dwell upon Mister Poe’s incorrect characterization of triplets vis a vis twins, Violet Baudelaire looked the man in the eye. “What wonderful news did you have?”

“We have found you a new guardian!” Mister Poe said eagerly.

“I thought you said no guardians wanted to take us,” Klaus said. “That’s why we were at Prufrock Preparatory School.”

“Ah, yes, that was true,” Mister Poe said, and then he let out a series of coughs. He held up a finger on his right hand as his left covered his mouth. I’ve never really been able to find record of the source of Mister Poe’s cough, but it seems to have been with him since he was a child.

“As I was saying, that was true. But then we found your distant uncle,” Mister Poe said. “And when he was asked, he said that he would be delighted to take you in.”

“Uncle?” Klaus asked.

“Distant?” Violet’s lips pursed.

“Ga-do?” Sunny clearly asked something related to the use of the word delighted. Of course, as Mister Poe does not speak baby, it passed him by without comment.

“Yes, your distant uncle, who is distantly related to you. He was your grandmother’s sister’s father’s brother or something, on your mother’s side,” Mister Poe said. “Distant means that he is further away from you on the family tree than your parents or their siblings.”

“I… know what distant means,” Violet says. “Why did it take until now to find him?”

“His contact information had to be doublechecked by Mortuary Money Management,” Mister Poe said. “We didn’t want a repeat of the closest relative incident. But after double-checking, your uncle is indeed distantly related to you and distant.”

“What do you mean? Where is he?” asked Klaus. “What’s his name?”

“He lives in a rural area of Iowa, just outside Des Moines,” Mister Poe said. “I can’t recall the town’s name, but I know you take a right off the Interstate near a shop named Vintage Ferns and Daisies.”

“His name?” Violet asked. “If we’re going to be living with him, shouldn’t we know his name?”

“Oh, of course,” Mister Poe said. “How silly of me. His name’s Justin DuMorne, your Uncle Justin.”

Now the Baudelaires had never heard of Justin DuMorne. How could they have? With how secretive the man was, it was hard enough to find the information I was able to find. What I do know is this: how Mister Poe chose to characterize the man to the Baudelaires was completely inaccurate, more so than usual for the man. However, he can’t be blamed for that. Magic relies on trickery and the theory that it doesn’t actually exist in order for it to work. Otherwise it wouldn’t be called magic. It would be science or something else.

“What’s his job?” Klaus asked.

Remember, Mister Poe was wrong.

“He’s a magician,” said Mister Poe.

So very wrong.