Maddison Winchester: Journal 4 {Supernatural}

11 Criss Angel Is a Douche Bag: Part 1

December 4th - December 8th, 2008

Sam had found a new case about a man whose cause of death was ten stab wounds. However, none of them ever pierced through the shirt he had been wearing.

We watched from the sidewalk as Jeb Dexter, a sort of famous edgy magician, did some tricks for an audience in front of a camera.

"This— This isn't a trick, okay? I— I— I don't do tricks. This is a demonstration..." Jeb said as he waved a deck of cards around. "About demons and angels, love and lust..."

"What a douche bag." Dean scoffed under his breath.

"All that stuff mixed up in my head," Jeb said.

"Dean, that's Jeb Dexter," I said.

Dean raised an eyebrow at me. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Sam shrugged. "He's famous, kind of."

"For what? Douchebaggery?" Dean whispered.

"But whatever happens... no matter how messed-up it gets, don't touch me, okay? For your own safety." Jeb took a deep breath and then exhaled. He started shaking as if he was having a seizure, and the crowd started going wild. Then he threw the deck of cards at the window behind him. "Go back to Hell, demon!"

When the cards finally settled, it was revealed that there was an ace of diamonds on the glass.

He dragged his hand over it to show that it was on the inside. "Is this your card?"

A girl nodded excitedly, and the crowd clapped like crazy, and he bowed.

"You've got to be kidding me. A fake demon possession?" Dean asked as he started to continue down the sidewalk. "I can't believe people actually fall for that crap."

"It's not all crap," Sam said as we followed after Dean.

"What part of that was not a steaming pile of BS?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Okay, that was crap, but that's not all magicians." He shrugged. "It takes skill."

Dean nodded. "Oh, right, right, I forgot. You were actually into this stuff, weren't you?" He laughed. "I mean, you had— you had, like a deck of cards and a wand."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, I was thirteen. It was a phase."

"Just... it bugs me. Ya know, playing at demons and— and magic when the real thing will kill you bloody," Dean said.

"Like a guy who drops dead of ten stab wounds... without a single tear in his shirt?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "That's what I'm talking about." He looked down at me. "We'll be back. Here..." He handed me some money. "Go watch a couple shows, and we'll call when we're done." Then he and Sam continued walking into the building.

I waited a couple of minutes and then walked in to buy some tickets.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I got through three and a half shows, including three older magicians named Jay, Vernon, and Charlie. Just as Jeb's show started, Dean gave me a call, and I met them outside of the hotel as we headed for the Impala.

"How'd it go?" I asked.

"Well, the assistant said the guy had a lot of enemies," Dean said.

"Did she narrow it down to anyone?" I asked.

Sam shook his head. "I guess he was stealing from the other magicians, stage effects, close-up techniques, pretty much anything he could get his hands on."