"Tough crowd?" I asked.
"That and then some. Speaking of which, you be careful out there." The man motioned out the front door. "A young lady like yourself shouldn't be walking around these types of streets alone at night. It's not safe, and tomorrow night it'll be even worse."
I took a closer look at the man, but he was as normal as a regular human being could be.
"Oh yeah?" I replied.
"I don't know what it is, but every month like clockwork, the crazies come out on the full moon. I'm thinking about closing tomorrow night and just skipping it."
I nodded politely.
"Does make you wonder though, doesn't it?" the clerk asked, becoming philosophical.
"About what?"
"Magic, werewolves. Who knows? Maybe it's all real," he said with a chuckle.
I laughed back. "Who knows, maybe. I'll take your advice and stay away tomorrow, but since I'm here now, maybe you can help me. I'm looking for someone." I took the photo of Irene out of my purse. "Does this girl look familiar?" I slid the photo across the wooden counter. It hadn't been the initial reason for my visit, but maybe the clerk, with his keen sense, had seen something.
The man picked it up and looked at it. "No, I can't say that she does. Does she live in the area?"
"No, but I think she has friends who do," I replied, switching the photo out for a dollar bill.
"No, I don't think I've seen her, but I'll keep my eye out."
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
Another customer walked in while the clerk was making his last comment and got in line behind me. His presence put an end to our conversation. "Well, I'll let you get going now, you have a good night," the old man said.
I went to say goodbye and that was when the guy behind me pulled out a gun and put it to the side of my head.
"Give me all your money or I'll blow her head off!" he demanded. The way he delivered the line had me thinking it wasn't the first time he'd used it.
A flood of emotions ran through my veins. First was shock, quickly followed by anger, and then concern for the store clerk and the amount of distress he was exhibiting. But not fear. No, that emotion did not surface.
The clerk's hands were shaking, and he seemed unable to move. I wanted to tell the nice old man that it would be all right, but I wasn't waiting the two seconds it would take before taking this criminal down. In one swift motion, I reached up with my left arm and grabbed the wrist that held the gun to my head and twisted it, popping the gun free. It hit the floor and slid about ten feet away. Then I turned to my left so that I was facing him and with my right hand, I released an orb of electricity that shot from my fist and right into his chest. The force of it knocked him back and sent him flailing backward into a potato chip display. The man was out cold. From the store clerk's point of view, it looked like I had just punched the man and knocked him out.
I brushed my hands together and tried to shake off the extra energy like crumbs from a cookie.
"Well, I guess you can hold your own," the clerk said after a minute.
"Guess I can. Would you like me to call the police?" I offered.
It turned out that wasn't necessary. A detective from the New York City Police Department walked in the door moments later. Both the clerk and I did a double-take, given that the clerk had just hung up the phone with the operator. Me, I was standing guard over the would-be robber, just daring him to flinch so I could blast him back into Never, Never Land again.
"Detective Cooper," the man said, flashing a badge at us by way of greeting.
"Vee Harper," I replied, before I thought to use my alias. I blamed my lack of thought on the adrenaline rush currently surging through my veins.
If it wasn't for the badge, I wouldn't have pegged this guy as a cop. His clothes were casual, his dark brown hair was tousled, and his face needed a good shave. Except for the eyes. No, his eyes were dark and questioning. However, that wasn't the most surprising feature of all. When I reached out and shook the man's hand, I was in for the surprise of a lifetime. The detective shocked me. Literally. And not in the oh-my-goodness, love-at-first-sight type of shock. This was an honest-to-goodness electric bolt that was the equivalent of sticking a fork in a light socket. My toes tingled, and I could taste the electricity in my mouth. I was pretty sure the detective's hair was standing on end. His eyes were as wide as I was sure mine were, and with one look, we recognized each other for what we were—powerful witches, or a powerful warlock in his case. Let me tell you, out of all the years that I have been a time-traveling, cold-case-solving witch, I have never run across my equal on the police force. Sure, I've asked other witches of the time to lend me a hand, but never one with legal authority.
The store clerk completely missed the exchange, and both the detective and I jumped back. I wasn't sure anything would happen with us just standing next to one another, but I wasn't going to chance it. Not with my powers at the surface the way they were, and apparently the detective's too.
"I was working a case just down the street when I heard the call come in," the detective said to explain his sudden appearance. Detective Cooper eyed the suspect on the ground. He didn't need to ask who took him down to know what had happened, but he did anyway. I walked him briefly through what had happened while the detective secured the suspect in handcuffs. He was clicking the last cuff on when the suspect came to. The man took one look at me over his shoulder and tried to scurry away, but his legs weren't quite working yet. The result was he sort of lolled from side to side, like a boat without oars, before losing his balance and flopping over onto his belly. That got a chuckle out of the detective. Actually, it got a chuckle out of all of us. It felt good to have the tables turned and to be back in control even if the suspect only held the power for a brief moment. Powerless wasn't a state I was comfortable with. Not even for a second.
Two uniformed cops walked in a few minutes later. If they were surprised to see the detective already there, they didn't say anything.
"You need us?" one of the police officers said by way of introduction.
"Hey, Carl," Detective Cooper replied to the officer and nodded to the second one. "I doubt this guy's buddies stuck around, but you want to take a look outside and see if you see anything? He was alone, right?" Detective Cooper turned to us for confirmation.
"I didn't see anyone else," I replied. The clerk hadn't either.
"Sure thing, boss," the officer said. Detective Cooper seemed to want to stay close to the suspect in case he fully came to and freaked out. The suspect wasn't normal—not entirely human. Of that, I was certain. But he wasn't a shifter either. Most likely, a demon or some other twisted supe taking advantage of a bad neighborhood. Ever the opportunists, those evil entities are.
Detective Cooper caught my eye while we were waiting and gave me a soft smile in return. The expression calmed me and brought me a sense of peace—more than I thought I needed at the time.
The officers came back a few minutes later. "Nothing else out there besides the usual garbage," Officer Carl said. I wasn't sure if the officer meant figuratively or literally. Given the rough crowd walking the streets, the statement could've gone either way.
"I'll get her statement," Detective Cooper said to the uniformed officers, motioning to me. "His, too," he said pointing to the clerk, whose name turned out to be Jerry.
With nothing left to do, the officers were forced to take the suspect to jail and left us to wrap the event up.
"Are you going to be okay?" I asked Jerry. He kept staring off into space, and I was searching for a way to help him.
"I'm okay. I think my heart's finally beating again." He held his hand to his chest and took a steadying breath. You could hear his anxiety on the exhale with the way the air trembled. "Maybe my sister's right. Maybe I should retire and get a little mobile home next to hers in Florida."
"That's not a bad idea," I said.
"And you can't beat the weather," Detective Cooper added. We walked Jerry out and as h
e went to lock the door, Detective Cooper did something that gave me the second shock of the night. He reached out and touched Jerry’s hand, the key still in the store's lock. I recognized what he was doing by the look on Jerry's face. The creases from the stress that had been permanently etched on his forehead smoothed away, and peace took over the man's countenance.
"We're sure going to miss you, Jerry. But I know your sister is going to love having you close by again. Good luck with the new house in Florida," Detective Cooper said.
"Florida. It is nice down there this time a year," Jerry said.
"It's lovely every month of the year down there," I said.
"I could play golf," Jerry said.
"Every day if you want," Detective Cooper said.
"That would be nice." Jerry looked off into space again, as if he was playing a round in his head that very minute. He probably was.
"I can go ahead and call a real estate agent and get your store listed tomorrow,” Detective Cooper said.
"You know a real estate agent?" Jerry asked.
"I do. She's great, and I know she'll be able to sell your store for a good price, too. Does that sound okay?"
"Yeah, that sounds good."
"How about you go ahead and call your sister and start making those travel plans tomorrow," Detective Cooper said.
"You're right, I'll do that," Jerry said. For the first time, a smile played across his face, and I felt myself smile in response. I had been adjusting people's memories for over a decade and yet I didn't think that even my technique was as smooth as Detective Cooper's here. I certainly didn't put as much thought into the alternate suggestions I often gave, but I was absolutely certain that Detective Cooper had done Jerry a favor. I had a feeling that this neighborhood was only going to get worse in the decades to come, and Jerry had worked far too long to spend his retirement years living in fear, which was exactly what would have happened if he kept working night after night in a convenience store that was regularly robbed. I shuddered at the thought of might have happened if I hadn't been in the store that night. Would the suspect have shot Jerry when he froze? I had the sickening feeling that he would have.
We saw Jerry to his apartment, which was around the block. And I saw that was right; while his apartment still looked nice with freshly swept steps, a welcome mat, and potted petunias on the porch, his neighbor's porch was crumbling, and the doorframe looked like it had been kicked in on more than one occasion given the splintered wood and dented door.
"Coffee?" Detective Cooper said to me once Jerry was tucked safely inside his home.
"I'd love a cup," I replied. I had no idea if Penny was still inside the billiard hall, but right at that moment, I wanted to talk to Detective Cooper more.
His car was parked further down the street. The grille said Chevrolet, the color was black, and I had a feeling it went fast. I thought the detective was either really trusting or really lucky to park such a nice-looking car in this suburb and still have it be there when he got back to it. That was until I saw how the average person would see it—as a rusted-out car missing two tires. Detective Cooper had used magic, most likely a charm or ward, to disguise his ride. It was smart and a bit complicated to pull off, which only upped my esteem for the detective.
He walked me to the car and held the door open for me while I ducked inside. My hand automatically reached over my shoulder to grab my seatbelt, only to come up empty. I felt like such a rebel riding in a car without a seatbelt and felt the need to mutter a bit of my own charm—a safety one—as an added protection.
Neither the detective nor I said anything while he got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb. I didn't ask where we were going, and as long as the coffee was somewhat decent, I didn't really care.
"That was ..." Detective Cooper's words trailed off as we put the slum behind us.
"Something," I said, filling in the blank for him.
"I've never met someone like you, or someone like me, I guess," he said.
"Yeah, me neither. Well, besides my mom," I answered honestly. I knew plenty of powerful witches, but none of them possessed the same electrifying skills as I did.
"You're right. My mom had the same gift," Detective Cooper said. We were both silent for a minute. Then he said, "I've never seen you around here before."
I was pretty sure that was the detective's way of asking me what I was doing down in Harlem late at night. But I wasn't going to answer that question, not yet. Instead, I replied, "That's because I'm not from around here."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, Michigan born and raised," I replied, explaining the where I was from, but obviously not the when.
"That explains the accent," Detective Cooper said.
"Excuse me? Accent? Hate to break it to you, buddy, but you're the one that talks funny. You're New Yorker through and through."
"And proud of it," he said.
Detective Cooper pulled into a twenty-four-hour donut shop. The irony of a cop choosing a donut shop was just the comedic relief my night needed. That, and I could have surely used a chocolate glazed donut. Maybe two.
"Business or pleasure?" Detective Cooper asked me after we selected our donuts and sat in a booth across from one another. With our donuts and coffee in front of us, I would have loved to bypass the detective's question and dig right in, but I didn't. I was polite like that.
"Business," I said, and then I took a bite of my donut. I didn't say it had to be a lengthy response.
Part of the reason that I'm good at my job is I'm usually pretty good at picking apart a person's character. I liked Detective Cooper. He had good energy and it wasn't just because he was a cop with magical talents. Maybe there was something in that zap we shared, but I trusted him. Even so, the Agency had rules. I couldn't go spilling everything to him—even if I wanted to, but that didn't mean we couldn't work together.
"Like you, Detective—"
"Call me Michael," he said, interrupting me.
"Okay, like you, Michael, I'm working a case. A private one," I added before he could ask. "A young witch named Irene has gone missing. It's been almost four days now. Her best friend, Penny, works the cosmetics counter at Macy's. I've talked to her once and I wanted to talk to her again. I tracked Penny to the billiard hall and I was waiting for her to leave so I could question her when the robbery took place at the convenience store."
"I know," Michael said.
"You know?" I shook my head incredulously. "What do you mean, you know?"
"Well, I saw you. I was inside the hall looking for someone when you caught my eye."
"You saw me? I didn't see you." I suddenly was more annoyed than I should have been. I was so focused on completing my mission and avoiding the shifters' detection that I hadn't looked out for normal human beings … well, normal enough. It was a rookie mistake. I knew better.
Michael seemed to read me like I had just read him and came to the same conclusion. And that he could trust me. He took a drink of his coffee and then said, "Your case is similar to mine. A young witch goes missing and no one has seen her since. The only lead I have is a potential boyfriend, a shifter named Rick Canali, who I tracked to the billiard hall as well."
"When did your girl go missing?" I asked.
"Friday, although Melody's foster parents just notified us on Monday."
"Why did they wait so long?" I couldn't get over how many parents seemed to just not care when their kids went missing.
"She has a history of running away. If I hadn't known she was a witch and her potential boyfriend a shifter? I wouldn't have thought anything of it either."
"You know her." I said it as a statement not a question.
"It's not the first time I've tracked her down. The first time I caught up with her, she threw out such a forceful orb shield that it about knocked me unconscious."
"Wow," I said, raising my eyebrows.
"I know. Melody's power is something else, which is why I offered to help her—not with her
foster parents; they would never understand. They're the most mundane individuals in the history of mankind—but to introduce her to a coven in the area. A group of good witches that could train her and give her a sense of family."
"It didn't work out?" I asked.
Michael shook his head. "Obviously not."
We both ate our donuts and sat lost in our own thoughts for a few moments.
"Something big is going on in the Manhattan supernatural community. I've felt it building for months, but I can't crack it. These missing young witches are just the tip of it."
I wanted to argue with the detective, but I had a sinking suspicion that he was right.
"I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you everything that I can about this case as long as you do the same," I offered.
Michael didn't even hesitate. He held out his hand. "Deal," he said before dropping it and smirking. "Maybe we shouldn't shake on it?"
"Yeah, let's forget the handshake," I said.
"What's your next move?" the detective asked me.
"I'm working undercover as a housekeeper for Irene's parents."
"They don't know that you're a ..."
"They don't know anything. Their biggest concern is what the neighbors think." I took a sip of my coffee. "I still need to talk to Penny." That reminded me of something else. “Did you try scrying for Melody?"
"No go." Michael looked slightly embarrassed. "Scrying isn't really my strong suit. I tried, but I was blocked." The detective shook his head.
"It's not just you. It happened to me too. Someone's cloaking these girls' location."
"I didn't even think of that. I just thought ... well, like I said, scrying doesn't usually work well for me. I'm a more hands-on search kind of guy."
"I have an idea. What if we try to locate them together? Two witches are more powerful than one," I said.
"I'm game to try." Michael eyed the donut shop. "Not sure this is really the best spot," he said.
"No, I agree, plus I have to get back." I wasn't sure I could talk my way out of being out of the house in the middle of the night. I'd be erasing the Hendrickses' memories if they caught me for sure. "What's your schedule look like tomorrow morning?"
Better Witch Next Time Page 7
