15.

  The guard immediately noticed something was wrong. It hardly took a detective to figure it out. There was the bent and twisted grill, the blown open door, oh and the scrawny teen all dressed in black standing in the bakery. The guard's eyes wandered around the factory and I realised two things, he couldn’t see in the dark like I could, and upon entering he had deactivated the motion sensors. The guard peered around the backroom factory and sensed something was wrong. Just before he flicked on his torch, I had enough time to duck behind the counter and hold my breath.

  “What the…” the guard muttered to himself.

  I heard his heavy footsteps walk towards the door. I peeked through the glass of the display cabinet and saw him inspecting the damaged door.

  “Hello?” he called out, flashing his torch around the office. “Who’s there?”

  I held my breath trying to rack my brain for a way out. The front of the shop was firmly locked. I could smash the windows and run but that would attract all kinds of attention. The guard was in the office now, creeping around slowly, probably as terrified as I was.

  Was I really doing all this for some damned donuts?

  The guard was in the shop, standing in the doorway flashing his torch into the corners of the room, directly between me and escape. The only thing separating him and me was the counter and display case. The guard carefully crept around the display case. I scurried to the other side of the counter. Just as the guard rounded the corner and flashed his torch I leapt over the counter, my enchanted feet making no sound as I landed. The guard stood nonplussed staring at nothing. He walked around the counter and looked around the shop front.

  My heart was racing so hard it hurt. It pounded in my chest and I feared the guard would hear it. Those pilfered pastries I had so happily crammed into my stomach were making me feel sick now. I crouched and walked to the door to the office, forcing myself not to rush. I was almost there when I heard the guard turn.

  “Hey! Stop right there!” he barked and I took off running.

  I hurtled through the office and into the backroom. In my panic I slammed my leg painfully into one of the broad metal tables and sent myself spinning, my foot becoming entwined with the legs of the table and I almost brought the whole thing down on myself. I fought back to my feet just as I heard the guard burst through the door behind me. I spun and instinctively threw my forearm guard up. I took the heavy truncheon blow across the forearm, grimacing as it rattled my wrist and shoulder.

  The guard was much bigger than me and he was in better shape. He lashed out with his truncheon again, aiming for my head. I ducked the blow and then realised that I was much quicker and more nimble than the guard. I danced backwards dodging his blows and backpedalling. He tried to grab me and I twisted out of his grip, jumping backwards up onto a table.

  “What the heck?” the guard said, looking up at me. “What are you?”

  “Magic!” I said, grinning stupidly behind my scarf.

  The guard frowned and then lunged for me, trying to yank me from the table top.

  “Sorry buddy, nothing personal,” I said, hopping out of his grasp and leaping for the shelf that I had made my entry on.

  The guard fumbled after me, knocking over tables and almost yanking the shelf from the wall as he tried to grab hold of me. I leapt from one shelf to another barely avoiding his clumsy lunges. There was the hatch! I jumped the final shelf, gripped the edge of the hatch with just my fingertips and began pulling myself up. But it didn’t feel so easy anymore. My feet felt leaden and my arms weak. I scrabbled against the wall and pulled myself up. I felt the guard’s hand wrap around my boot.

  “Shit!”

  I held on desperately, trying to pull myself up. I kicked my free foot, catching the guard in the face.

  “Ahh my nose!” he yelled out.

  “Sorry! I shouted over my shoulder.

  I freed my foot and scrambled back into the hatch. I crawled around the u-bend and stood, looking up at the mouth of the pipe. It suddenly felt much further away. I looked down at my watch: I had 6 minutes left and the potion was clearly starting to wear off. I gritted my teeth and began ascending as fast as I could. My muscles quivered and my legs shook. The Pigeon King’s words about debts being paid came echoing back to me. It felt like my bill was due and the collectors weren’t playing around.

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  Halfway up, I heard the alarm start blearing. Oh great. I pushed my exhausted body up the pipe, willing myself to go faster. It was as if I could feel myself getting heavier and heavier; my muscles became slack with exhaustion. It was much easier coming down than going back up. I could hear the guard shouting at the bottom of the pipe; it sounded like he was on a radio or something, calling for backup.

  "Why the hell would a donut guard have backup?" I said through gritted teeth.

  I moved like a worn-out slinky back up the pipe. It took me maybe two minutes to push myself up, but finally, I broke back out into the fresh air, gulping oxygen deep into my lungs as I pulled myself out. My chest was heaving, and I realized that even though I had escaped the pipe, I was still stuck on the roof.

  I looked across the gap that I had previously flown across with such confidence. Now it looked far too wide. I gulped, and in the distance, I could hear sirens. Oh, this was bad. I would be the first idiot arrested and locked up for donut burglary.

  I turned and ran across the corrugated rooftop to the front of the building. I remembered seeing one of those thick iron drain pipes going down the front. I slid down the tiled roof, and there it was, the drain pipe. In a jerky motion, I grabbed hold of it, catching my body as it flew over the edge of the roof, and slammed my hip painfully into the wall. I slid with little control down the pipe, landing so heavily I fell onto my arse. I didn't have time to worry about that. I could hear drones whirring in the distance and sirens getting louder.

  I pulled the hood down over my face, turned, and began running as hard as I could. There were still a couple of minutes of juice left in the potion, and I had to use it to get as far away as I could. With my teeth gritted, I sprinted, my arms pumping like pistons. I vaulted over a fence, ducked across the street, and leapt onto some train tracks, running into the dark tunnel ahead, hoping to create enough distance that the drones wouldn't pick me up. It felt like my chest was going to explode. I sprinted down the dark tunnel, kicking up gravel behind me. I don't know how long I ran, but eventually, I came to the other side of the tunnel into a train station. Despite the fear and paranoia gnawing at me, I knew that I had to catch a train home. There was no way I was going to be able to run it this time, so I sat at the train station, dripping sweat, clutching the bag in front of me, burping up sour cream, and waited for my train.

  *

  I didn't so much arrive back at the market square as crawl back. As the potion completely left my system, it felt like years' worth of exhaustion and pain replaced it. Every muscle felt tight and battered; my body was cramping in three or four places at the same time. Hunger burned in my stomach, my head ached, even my eyes hurt for some reason. My hands cramped, my feet cramped; the muscles all over my body screamed in protest of my night's adventures. By the time I arrived back at the market square, I was practically drooling with exhaustion.

  "The mageling has returned!" the Pigeon King's voice boomed.

  I could have sworn the damn pigeon was getting bigger every time I saw him. He was prancing about on his makeshift throne, flapping his wings in delight.

  "You've been successful?" he asked.

  I could barely speak, so I just nodded my head. With quivering arms, I held the bag out. Four pigeons swooped and plucked the bag from my hands, carrying it to the Pigeon King. He pulled back the zipper with two surreptitious tugs of his head and then buried his face in the bag. I heard him coo in excitement and then he withdrew the box of doughnuts, throwing it across the floor and emptying its contents all across the cobbles. The Pigeon King roared in delight, his followers flapping and cooing in excitement as they descended upon the sweet treats.

  "Tonight, my feathered followers," the Pigeon King's voice rang across the market square, "tonight we celebrate our great victory and a new era for my kingdom!"

  The pigeons squawked in response as they fought and tore at the donuts, leaving not even a scrap left on the cobbles. Of course, the Pigeon King had kept the second box for himself. He was surreptitiously picking through the contents, jabbing his beak at them and making delighted noises as he sampled each donut.

  "Oh truly, mageling, these are the finest confectionaries in all the land. Well done, well done."

  I just nodded and then slumped to all fours on the cobbles.

  "Oh dear," the Pigeon King said when he saw me, "it seems the debts have come to be paid.”

  "What's happening to me?" I managed to gargle out to the Pigeon King.

  The Pigeon King flew from his perch, still chomping on a piece of doughnut, and landed next to me.

  "My boy, you've taxed your mortal body," the Pigeon King replied. "What did you think? That potion suddenly grew your muscles four times the size, strengthened the tendons, and magically gave you the ability to jump and land with barely a sound?"

  I just looked at the Pigeon King with a little bit of drool dribbling down my chin. Even worse, the shin splints had set in. They were so painful I wanted to cry out.

  "Of course not, your muscles stayed the same as they were, your tendons remained as they were. The potion simply allowed your mind to ignore its limitations," the Pigeon King said. "It gave you a slight boost in energy, but otherwise it was just your mortal body with the safeties taken off. It's a good thing you didn't take it too far. You could have easily snapped your spine or broken your legs.”

  My eyes began to droop, and I was barely able to keep my head up.

  "Fear not, little mageling. Some sleep and some good food will put you right, although it may take you a couple of days before you feel yourself again." The Pigeon King said. "Come, my feathered followers will escort you back home safely. You've done fine work here today. You may make a worthy follower after all."

  I nodded and slumped forward. Just before I was completely unconscious I heard the Pigeon King say:

  “Even the lightest steps leave footprints behind, choose where you tread wisely, little mageling.”