wizard-of-the-pigeons

popcorn bag. It was almost a relief when his quick ears picked up the sounds of a
scuffle and a single, sharp cry.
Under the viaduct it was dark, making a jest of the lights that lined Alaskan
Way. This time of night, it should have been deserted. The noises were coming
from the shadows behind a dumpster. Wizard felt the familiar unwelcome surge
and was running the zigzag path before he was aware of it, his bag tucked tightly
to him. As he passed the corner of the dumpster, he gave the bag a toss that
carried it safely under it. His feet made no sound as he approached the struggle,
and he gave no cry of warning.
He hit the tangled knot like a striking eagle. The boy dropped and skidded on
the pavement, but the narrow man snaked away into the darkness. The old man
on the ground gave another cry and tried to crawl away. Wizard ignored him.
Damn, but he wished that the adult one had not escaped. Now he would have to
worry about him coming from behind. But for now…
“Let me go, please, mister!” the boy wailed suddenly as the dead-faced man
towered over him. He tried to scrabble away, but he was on his back, and his
arms and legs refused to work properly when glowing blue eyes stared down at
him.
Three kicks. To throat and belly and armpit, and then he could pursue the
other black-clad man melting into the night.
Or he could push his fingers down fast as a snap against the soft hollow of
the boy’s throat, to crush the tiny fishlike bones within and flood blood all
through the secret caverns of his flesh. Wizard smelled the pungent odor of urine
as the scrabbling boy wet himself. Snatches of gray fog were drifting in off
Elliott Bay and floating through the night. There was no solution so simple and
beautiful as death. He could put him out and be done with him, never have to
worry about this particular one again. No one would ever see what was going to
happen here. The boy was like a cake waiting to be cut. “ god o god o god,” he
was praying, sobbing and sniffling already, before Wizard had ever touched him.
But now he touched and the boy squealed long. Wizard looked at the rag of shirt
in his hand, marveling at how easily the cloth had torn. A tendril of fog passed
between the boy and himself, drifting like blood in water. The gray fog stank in
his nostrils, worse than the urine, and he shook it from his nose.
For the first time he heard the old man’s repeated words.
“I’m all right. Let him go and help me. Please.” Wizard stared down at the
boy. His eyes were squeezed shut and water from them was leaking down his