13. The Oath

Laramie must take the Oath of Silence and Compliance, which prevents her from revealing the existence of magic or The Guild.

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The nameplate on the heavy wooden door reads “Vladimir Noaptescu, Secondus.” The oaken door is ridiculously out of place along the steel and glass Vegas hotel office corridor of the Magic Guild Recovery Home.

Dave knocks, and a gravelly voice answers.

“Enter.”

My pulse quickens as the door creaks open—like, I can literally feel my neck throbbing. Dave loans me his phone so I can get my loquette hooked up and send my voice through his speakerphone.

The office is dimly lit, with thick velvet curtains blocking the desert sun. Shelf after shelf of dusty tomes line the walls. Behind a large mahogany desk sits Vladimir, an imposing figure with a pallid face and dark, penetrating eyes. His presence dampens my jitters.

“Miss Strong,” he intones, his thick Romanian accent drawing out the vowels. “Please, have a seat.”

As I settle into the leather chair, Vladimir steeples his long fingers. “You are here to take the Oath of Silence and Compliance, yes? A necessity for all who reside within these walls.”

I nod, my mind racing. What exactly am I agreeing to?

“The Oath is a binding magical contract,” Vladimir explains. “Once sworn, you will be incapable of three things. One,” he says dramatically. “Revealing the existence of the Magic Guild. Two. Revealing that magic is real. And three. Revealing the nature of your...transformation.”

My shoulders tense. Those are some hefty restrictions. I glance at Dave, who gives me an encouraging smile.

“The spell will prevent you from divulging our secrets by any means. You will also be under a spell of protection that will simply prevent anyone from disclosing you. Please take great care because the protection spell can cause… unintended consequences,” Vladimir continues ominously. “Do you understand?”

“I get it,” I say through the phone speaker, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “Keep my mouth shut. Or, well, you know. K-k-k-k-k!” I mime a cutting motion across my neck stem.

Vladimir does not look amused by my quip. He leans forward, fixing me with his penetrating gaze. “This is not a matter of levity, Miss Strong. The Oath is a solemn vow, not to be taken lightly.”

I do my best approximation of a hard swallow. “I understand. I’m ready to do this.”

But as Vladimir begins to chant in an arcane language, doubt creeps into the edges of my mind.

Is this really my only choice? To be bound by this Oath for the rest of my life?

The air seems to shimmer around us as the incantation rises in volume and intensity. I can feel the magic pulsing, ready to settle into my bones…

Not So Fast!

“Wait!” I blurt out. Vladimir pauses mid-chant, eyebrows raised. “What… what happens if I slip up? If I accidentally say something I’m not supposed to?”

Vladimir regards me coolly. “If you even think about revealing our secrets, you will become nauseous. If you attempt to do so, you get a splitting headache, worsening until you lose consciousness.”

I shudder involuntarily, trying to imagine what it would feel like to need to puke without a mouth. It sounds like a special kind of hell. Dave’s arm tightens around me reassuringly.

“It’ll be okay, Laramie,” he murmurs. “After a while, keeping the secret will feel like second nature. You won’t even have to think about it.”

I’m not so sure about that. Secrets have a way of festering, growing heavier with each passing day. But what choice do I have?

Another thought strikes me, sending a chill down my spine.

“If I take the Oath... does that mean I’ll never be able to see my family again? My friends?”

The words catch in my throat. I can’t imagine facing this new reality without ever talking to my sister Margo, my dad, and all the other people who knew me before—before all this.

To my surprise, Vladimir’s stern expression softens slightly. “There is... a way. If you can convince someone from outside to also take the Oath... you can reveal yourself to them.”

Hope flares in my chest, bright and sudden. “I could still see them? Talk to them?”

“Yes,” Vladimir confirms with a nod. “But they must swear to keep our secrets as well. It is the only way.”

I absorb this information, turning it over in my mind. It’s not a perfect solution—far from it—but it’s something. A lifeline to cling to in the midst of all this uncertainty.

Dave’s fingers interlace with mine, solid and reassuring. “See? It’s not so bad. We’ll figure it out together.”

I squeeze his hand gratefully, drawing strength from his presence. He’s right. I’m not alone in this. And if there’s even a chance I can still have my family in my life... I have to take it.

“Okay,” I say, looking up at Vladimir with renewed determination. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

The magician inclines his head and begins to chant once more. As the ancient words wash over me, I close my eyes and let his spell wash over me.

The Oath Is Applied

Vladimir’s chanting intensifies.

In the ancient tongue of Eldritch, I weave this spell, a chant steeped in mystery and power:

Hebu sekhem, nefu sa’ra,
Akhu nefert, senet ankh.
Ba heh, seshemu nesu,
Ka menkhet, setju sekhem.
Sahu a’at, meskhenet khu
Iten netjeru, saqet em khet,
Amenet shenu nekhtet,
Meswet her neb heru.

The incantation echoes through the room with a palpable weight. I feel a strange vibration building in my chest like a tuning fork struck against my ribcage. It spreads outward, tingling through my limbs until my whole body hums with energy.

Just as the sensation reaches a crescendo, Vladimir’s voice cuts off abruptly. The silence that follows is deafening. I open my eyes, half-expecting to see the room transformed in some way. But everything looks exactly the same.

“Is that it?” I ask, my words sounding small and uncertain through the speaker of Dave’s phone. “Did it work?”

Vladimir regards me solemnly. “The Oath is bound. You are now one of us, Laramie Katarina Strong. Bear this responsibility with honor.”

I nod, trying to wrap my mind around the enormity of what just happened. I’m officially part of the Magic Guild now, a secret society hidden in plain sight in the heart of Las Vegas. It’s surreal.

Dave helps steady me, his touch grounding me in the moment.

“You did great,” he murmurs, pride evident in his voice. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’ll get used to it. Trust me.”

I lean into him slightly, grateful for his steadying presence. “Thanks for being here with me. I don’t think I could’ve done this alone.”

He smiles softly. “You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

We say our goodbyes and, together, we turn to leave Vladimir’s office. As we step out into the hallway, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a window. The absence of my head is still jarring, but somehow... it feels a little less foreign now.

So Many Questions

As we make our way down the hall, my mind races with a million questions. I can’t help but wonder if I made the right choice, if this Oath is really the key to reconnecting with my old life. But then again, what other option did I have? It’s not like I can just stroll back into Margo’s house and be like, “Surprise, sis! I’m alive, but I lost my head in a magic trick gone wrong. How’ve you been?”

I try to focus on the day I show up at Margo’s front door, but as soon as the thought crosses my mind, a wave of nausea hits me like a freight train. I stumble, my hands flying to my... well, to the spot where my mouth used to be.

“Whoa, easy there,” Dave says, catching me by the elbow. “You okay?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The dizziness passes as quickly as it came, but the unease lingers.

Is this what Vladimir meant by the consequences of breaking the Oath?

We pass a group of people in the hallway, and I catch snippets of their conversation. “...Oath Day... always rough... give her time...” They shoot me sympathetic glances, and I realize they must think I’m just another newbie struggling to adjust.

I straighten up and try to project an air of confidence, even though I feel anything but. Dave seems to sense my discomfort and steers us towards his office.

“Come on, let’s get you something to clear your, um…” he says, his voice gentle. “And then we can talk more about what’s going on.”

As we step into his office, I feel relief wash over me. Here, at least, I don’t have to pretend to be okay. I can let my guard down and just be... well, whatever I am now. A work in progress, I guess.

Dave hands me a can of ginger ale, and I dip my drinking tube inside, gripping the ice-cold can. The cool, fizzy liquid is a welcome distraction from my swirling thoughts. I let my box take a few sips, savoring the sweet, spicy flavor transmitted into my senses.

“So,” I say after connecting to Dave’s sound system. “Tell me about the day you took the Oath. How did you know it was the right decision?”

Dave leans back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes. “I was working at Los Alamos, you know. Bright, young post-doc, on the verge of a breakthrough in quantum physics. Dimensional folding on a molecular scale. It was groundbreaking stuff.”

I nod, trying to understand. Science was never my strong suit, but I can appreciate the significance of his work.

“I was presenting a paper at a conference in Vienna when a scientist from the Magic Guild approached me. Said they’d been following my research, thought I had potential. Offered me a job on the spot.”

“Just like that?” I ask, incredulous.

“Just like that,” Dave confirms. “Of course, there were... conditions. I had to take the Oath, same as you. And I could never call attention to myself or my work. No fame, no fortune, just an infinite salary and the chance to pursue my research without limits.”

I try to imagine being faced with that choice. Giving up everything I’d ever known, everyone I’d ever loved, for the sake of some nebulous greater good. Could I have done it? Would I have had the courage?

“How did you decide?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dave shrugs. “It wasn’t easy. I had a lot of sleepless nights and a lot of soul-searching. But in the end, I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. The chance to push the boundaries of science, to discover things no one else had even dreamed of... it was too tempting to resist.”

I nod slowly, trying to process his words. “And you don’t regret it? Leaving everything behind, living in secret like this?”

Dave meets my gaze, his eyes serious. “I won’t lie. There are days when I wonder what might have been. Days when I miss my old life, my family, and my friends. But then I think about the work we’re doing here, the people we’re helping ... and I know I made the right choice.”

I compulsively rub the edge of my neck. “I hope I can say the same someday. Right now, it all just feels so...overwhelming.”

Dave reaches out and squeezes my other hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “You will, Laramie. I have faith in you.”

We sit in companionable silence for a moment, sipping drinks and lost in thought.

Delving Into Dave’s Past

I turn my attention back to Dave, curiosity getting the better of me. “So, what do you miss most? From your old life, I mean.”

Dave leans back in his chair, a wistful expression crossing his face. “Honestly? My mom. She’s always struggled financially, and it kills me that I can’t help her out now that I have the means.”

“What about your dad?” I ask, sensing there’s more to the story.

Dave shrugs, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. “He’s doing alright. Remarried a younger woman, started a new family. Doesn’t have much time for me or mom these days.”

I feel a pang of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Dave. That must be tough.”

He offers me a half-smile. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Growing up, all I remember is the constant fighting and the tension. Probably for the best that they split, in the end.”

I nod, understanding all too well the impact of a broken home. “Still, it’s never easy. Especially when you’re a kid.”

Dave meets my gaze, and for a moment, I see a vulnerability there that catches me off guard. “You’re right. But you know what? Those experiences shaped me. Made me who I am today. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

I feel a sudden surge of affection for this kind, gentle man who’s been through so much and yet still manages to find the positive in everything. Without thinking, I lean in closer, my elbows and shoulders brushing against his. I put my stem on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here, Dave. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

He smiles, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. “I’m not going anywhere, Laramie. We’re in this together, no matter what.”

Changing the Subject

Feeling the weight of the conversation, Dave clears his throat and changes the subject. “So, are you ready to start your Head Practice?”

“Head Practice,” I’ve come to call it. It’s a bizarre rite of passage here at the Recovery Home. It’s all because we somehow need to look ‘normal’ again, even if we’re far from it. Picture this: a silicone head that fits snug over your neck and shoulders, worn day in, day out. Dave tells me it’s part of getting used to our new reality.

It’s not just for show either; there are rules attached.

I’m required to clock in at least a hundred hours with this thing on before graduation rolls around, no exceptions. And once I’m out of here, post-Recovery? The silicone head becomes my constant companion.

It’s a strange adjustment, but one that’s necessary for navigating the world outside these walls.

I recall trying on a Head once before. The memory makes me shudder. “I don’t know, Dave. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. It was hot and sweaty, and my skin couldn’t breathe.”

Dave nods understandingly. “I know it can be uncomfortable at first, but the new models are much more breathable.”

I’m still not convinced, but Dave’s enthusiasm is contagious. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try one on.”

“Great!” he exclaims, standing up. “Let’s head over to the costume shop and see if we can find one that fits you.”

Trying On a Head

We exit Dave’s office and cross the hall to the costume shop. As we step inside, my loquette automatically connects to the room’s speakers.

“Whoa,” I breathe, taking in the array of adaptive wear lining the walls.

There are racks upon racks of zentai suits designed for invisible survivors like Justine. Harnesses and girdles meant for those who’ve been divided, like Kelly, hang alongside them. But it’s the silicone heads along the back wall that capture my attention. They come in every skin tone imaginable, some with detailed human features and others left eerily blank.

I approach the display, running my fingers over the smooth, cool surface of a blank head. It’s oddly appealing, in a creepy sort of way.

“Most people wear those with a Lycra hood when they go out in public,” Dave remarks, coming up beside me. “You look unusual but not unnatural. Most people here in Vegas just assume you’re in some kind of costume.”

A mischievous grin tugs at the corners of my mouth. “But where’s the fun in that? I think I’ll rock the blank look. Embrace the weirdness, you know?”

Dave chuckles, shaking his head. “Only you, Laramie. Only you.”

Dave helps me try on the blank silicone head. For a moment, everything goes dark and silent as he removes my loquette and carefully positions the head over my neck stem. He replaces the loquette, and my senses come flooding back.

I turn to face the tall mirror on the wall, taking in my new appearance. The head fits snugly, its flaps covering my collarbone and the spot between my shoulder blades. It’s strange, seeing myself like this—a blank canvas, devoid of any recognizable features.

“So, what do you think?” I ask, my voice emanating from the room’s speakers.

Dave takes a step back, appraising me with a thoughtful expression. “You know, it’s weirdly attractive on you. Like, only you could pull off the no-face look and still be stunning.”

I feel warmth spread through my chest at his words. Dave rummages through a nearby shelf and pulls out a wig, holding it up for my inspection. It’s a pretty close match to my old hair—fiery red curls, cropped short. He helps me put it on, adjusting it until it sits just right.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, I turn and wrap my arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Dave. For being there for me during the Oath, and for this,” I say, gesturing to my new head. I lean in closer, my blank face brushing against his chest.

Dave smiles down at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I think I can do better than this,” he says cryptically.

We say our goodbyes, and I make my way back to my apartment in the residential wing, my mind buzzing with thoughts.

In front of the mirror monitor, I toggle off my smiling avatar and study my blank visage, turning this way and that. Already, I can feel the floppy collar of my head starting to itch, and I wonder how I’ll manage to wear it for several hours a day.

As I contemplate the challenges ahead, my thoughts drift to the Oath and the possibilities it presents. It could be my ticket to reconnecting with people I love, like my dad and my sister. The idea both thrills and terrifies me.

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