“And if I decide to go public?”

“Then I’ll deal with that.”

Everyone is quiet for a few moments. I glance over at Trevor. He nods slightly.

“Mr. Phiziny-Kent, this has been, well, amazing,” I say, “but I think we really should be heading home.”

“I understand,” he says. “You’ve got a bit more of a drive left.” He shakes my hand, then Trevor’s.

“Thank you,” I say. “For everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” Phiziny says. “If you ever want to talk, drop me an e-mail.”

“I will,” I say.

Trevor and I head out into the driveway. I hand the keys to him; I’ve had enough driving for the day. I slump into the passenger seat, stowing my bag between my feet. Trevor starts the car and rolls it backwards out of the driveway. Phiziny’s porch light shuts off as we drive past his house.

I look over at my brother. “I’m glad you came,” I say.

“Me too,” he says.

“I didn’t want you to come,” I say quickly, before losing my nerve. “I thought you’d be a pain in my ass, and we’d spend half the trip arguing.”

“Eric, we have spent half the trip arguing.”

“True. However, without you, I never would have found him.”

“Sure you would have.”

“Maybe. Either way, the trip wouldn’t have been as much fun.”

Trevor is quiet for a moment as he pulls the car through the curving ramp onto I-95. “You know,” he says finally. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever admitted to having fun with me.”

“I think it may be the first time it’s happened.”

“So, what are you going to do with that story? Looks like you have permission to torch it now.”

“I think I’m going to keep it.”

“Keep it?”

“Yeah, put it somewhere safe; somewhere I can read it if I want.”

“Why?”

“It’s my proof that Kent exists, that we actually found him.”

“You can’t show it to anyone, though.”

“Yeah, but it’s enough to know I have it.”

I readjust my bag, trying to get comfortable. Something inside it rubs against my leg. I reach down and open it, flipping on a map light to see inside. There is an extra book.

“Did you put this in here?” I ask Trevor.

“Put what in where?”

“This…” I pick up the book. It is a copy of Trees Caught Fire, my first novel.

“Wasn’t me. Must have been Phiziny. He must have slipped it in when we weren’t looking.”

“When he closed my bag for me?” I say, rifling the pages, a blur of black text, white paper, and red marks.

“Maybe he has a third persona who is a magician,” Trevor says.

On the title page sit two paragraphs, each in different handwriting and colors. The top one, in red ink and the neat handwriting of John Phiziny; the bottom in blue, and the messy scrawl of Elias Kent.

“He read it,” I say, “and left me a note.”

“What’s it say?”

“They liked it.”

Eric’s Light – Matt Pedone