Mage found her new aches and pains were making the cleaning go slower than she had planned. The hunch, in particular, was causing her a lot of grief as she scrubbed the blood from the mudroom floor with a hand brush. She was so focused on trying to stay on schedule that she didn’t hear Henry enter through the front door. She only knew he was there when he asked, “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

He hadn’t seen the body yet.

“Henry, it’s me.”

There was still blood on the floor, and the nanny’s body was rolled into a lumpy, blue camping tarp.

He shook his head, and his face twisted at the smell of something terrible.

The pitch of his scream was like that of a child’s crying out to his mother, but with the volume of a grown adult.

Mage bolted to her feet, not realizing who had screamed.

“What have you done to Mage!”

Mage wanted to respond, but in the moment she could only think of a question which she knew she shouldn’t ask. Why was he here when he should be at work?

This was replaced by fear, as she didn’t immediately recall where she had left her handgun, but then spotted it a good distance away. She avoided looking in the direction of the breakfast bar, where it rested in plain sight, behind Henry.

Mage had never seen any inclination of violence in him, but it didn’t matter anymore. Anyone, even Henry, could be dangerous in a panic.

He also happened to be inconveniently standing between Mage and her weapon. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember if she had turned the safety back on. She must have. It’s what she always did. The fact that she could not remember didn’t change the fact that she must have done it.

He hadn’t shown interest in the gun. He was too consumed by everything else, and if he made a surprise run for the weapon, she would have a good chance of stopping him.

“Henry. I’m Mage,” she said, standing up slowly. Even though he didn’t have a weapon, she held her hands up with her palms open.

No one would ever expect a murderer to claim the identity of their victim. Henry pulled out his cell phone.

“She wasn’t your wife. I am.”

His hands shook so much, the phone didn’t unlock. “I’m calling the police.”

“All they are going to find is an intruder in our home, that I shot. You idiot.”

He turned to her and said, “You’re not Mage.” Which gave him enough control to unlock the phone and start dialing the numbers.

Time for the truth. And with the manner in which he accused her, she didn’t take a sympathetic tone when delivering it.

“Think about it, Henry. Think about what’s changed these last few months. There’s a picture of our children with Olivia’s kids. Would your wife suddenly become free of the pain surrounding her father that she would just…”

The lump in Mage’s throat wouldn’t let her continue to make her argument from that angle. She moved to another one. The numbers were dialed. He just needed to push the green button to make things more complicated.

“Would the woman you married suddenly agree to quit her job?”

He began to put the phone down.

Now that she had a moment, she wondered what he was doing home in the middle of the day. She pushed the question to the back of her mind. The situation was still volatile.

“Look at me, Henry. I know I look different than I did a few months ago, and so does she.”

“My wife isn’t a murderer.”

“Neither am I, Henry. She wasn’t real, she wasn’t a person.”

“Listen to yourself. Of course she was a person.” He started bringing the phone back up.

Mage raced to find another way to make Henry understand he had been living with an impostor.

“Your anniversary. OUR anniversary. After the dinner. At home. In the bedroom. She didn’t celebrate the usual way.”

The phone returned down again.

“I had to tell her what to do. And she seemed surprised.” He was disgusted and heartbroken. “But she looked just like you, or like you used to. Who is… or was she?”

“She wasn’t real.”

“How can you say that? Look at her body and all her blood!”

“She wasn’t real, because I conjured her, Henry.”

Henry refused to take anything she said without a challenge. They argued while Mage returned to cleaning, keeping a careful eye on the handgun on the table. There were no reasons for her to conceal the truth of her deeds from Henry. She left nothing out, and he believed none of it.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove to me magic exists.”

“No.”

“You’re a fraud.”

“Fine. I’m the proof, and so is she. I gained weight and started walking with a hunch. All the while she was getting thinner, looking younger, and styling her hair without going to a gym, spa, or hair salon.”

“So, to get your appearance back, you’ll have to use magic again? Do it now. Use magic to make yourself look like her.”

Mage hadn’t thought about how she would undo the nanny’s handiwork. Again she hoped it would all reverse itself. Now that the nanny had been “paid.”

“That might be. But right now, I’ve got to finish cleaning up, and later you will have to pick up the kids.”

“But Mage always picked up the kids!” Henry whined.

The murderous look on her face produced instant regret, and he gestured that he was sorry.

Her temper did not rupture, but it was stretching its limits. She focused on another quick task to cross off her list. She fished through the nanny’s purse, pulled out her phone, and transferred it to her own purse. Later she’d cancel the plan.

“Exactly the reason why I can’t pick them up. The center won’t recognize me, and neither will our children.”

His silence meant he needed more convincing.

“Do you want to clean up?” Mage asked.

His convulsion said no before he spoke the word. Then he added, “Where will you be when we get back?”

“Not here.”

“Will you be coming back?”

“Yes, Henry. This is my home. You’re my husband and we have children. I just need to sort some stuff out.”