Magic Lies

by C C Sommerly

“I didn’t betray you, Marty. I’ll always look after you.”

  “You have quite an odd way of showing it.”

  “That’s harsh. What should I have done instead? I didn’t exactly have many options at the time.”

  “Somewhere non-fae.”

  “The Fae Realm is the only place that can survive uncontrolled magic like yours. Because it’s magical itself. I had no choice.”

  “We always have a choice. You took ours away when you withheld the details about where you were taking us.”

  “Fair enough. In the future, I’ll include you and the others on decisions that affect you.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  “I have no doubt that you will.”

  I leapt for the gate, tugging an unwilling Muffin with me. The gate led me to the Mid Line. I got lots of looks from the people we passed by. Muffin trotted along next to me oblivious to the startled and fearful reactions of the people around us.

  It was a short walk to Pawn Shop to recover Betty. It was unfortunate that I couldn’t take her back to the fae lands, but nothing mechanical could survive there. Something about the magic made them break. And, while Betty wasn’t a normal vehicle, I still wasn’t willing to risk it.

  I walked into Pawn Shop – a less creatively named place probably didn’t exist. I didn’t see Rufus, but I did see a new guy working the counter.

  “I’m here to see Rufus.”

  “Who’s asking?” asked the man at the counter.

  “Tell him that his dream showed up.”

  A hearty laugh came from behind the man, who looked confused. I didn’t blame him for it, Rufus wasn’t known for his humor.

  “My nightmare is here. You better be here for that hell spawn of a car of yours,” said Rufus.

  “You aren’t insulting my baby, are you?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t think of it. My apologies. She’s located in the auto shop, You Break, We Fix, next door. And next time, leave your pet at home.”

  As if I had a choice about the devil dog.

  “Appreciate it.”

  “And Marty, I saw the Agency. You tell Sterling that if he needs me, that me and my boys will be there to help rebuild.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  I left and easily found Betty parked in the back of the auto shop. She stood out from the other cars like a scoffed penny in a group of shiny gold. I got in and sank into the seat. Betty honked the horn. When I tried to start her, the engine wasn’t even turning over. Betty was pissed.

  “I know I was gone for so long. Please forgive me. I’ll get you some of that high-end, all natural oil.”

  I tried to start her again and this time she cooperated.

  “That’s my girl.”

  I drove back to the Agency. I hadn’t been back since I blew it up. Wreckage and the scorched marks around it greeted me. The only thing we’d salvaged from it were our case files. Sterling kept those in a spelled cabinet that could survive fire, flood, winds or any other natural disaster – hence them surviving.

  I got out of the car and walked towards the Agency. Seeing the utter destruction brought my guilt and fear to the surface. I’d taken our home and place of employment away from all of us.

  I headed back to Betty, when I heard a familiar voice say, “Marty girl.”

  I couldn’t hold back my smile as Rat ventured out of the shadows of the Agency. He was always good at blending into his surroundings. I hadn’t even noticed him until he spoke.

  I forced myself not to hug the scrapper.

  “It’s good seeing you too, Rat.”

  “We was worried. When we saw what happened here, we thought you were gone and dead.”

  Tears filled his eyes and his voice trembled from holding back emotions. Rat was as tough as they came despite his young age. He was born on the streets and never left. It was Rat and the other scrappers that took me in when I ran away from my father at fifteen. Without them, I wouldn’t have survived a week.

  Muffin barked, breaking up our reunion.

  “And you have your own devil dog! Aren’t you some biggie deal now?”

  “I’m still the same Marty and I’m sorry to worry you all. There was no way to warn you and the others.”

  “I get it. Someone’s been asking around about you. Same one as asked about the necklace.”

  “The Mage?”

  “Yes, the Shadow Man.”

  Ice shot through my veins at his words. It was followed up by an overwhelming sense of desperation and fear for his and the other scrappers safety.

  “Listen to me. I want you and the others to leave, leave and go under. Do you remember the tree in Reflection Park?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dig under the northern side of the tree. You’ll find enough money and gold to keep you and the other scrappers hidden. No matter what, stay away from the shadow man.”

  “What kind of trouble are you in?”

  “The kind you don’t want a part of. I’m not playing, Rat. Leave now and tell the others. I’ll get word to you when it’s safe. He’ll hurt you or worse if he finds out that you are connected to me. I can’t lose you guys.”

  “How long until we can see you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll try my best to make sure all of you don’t have to hide for long. Just be safe.”

  Rat stepped forward. He opened his arms up at his side and I knew he wanted to hug me. I wanted the same, but it wasn’t safe. My father had already made a connection between the scrappers and me. He could be watching us even now.

  “Bye for now,” he said before scampering back to Downtown to bring the others to safety.

  Once he was out of sight, I pulled out the address to the Jamison’s house. I needed to start making some progress on at least one of my cases – assuming the Jamisons didn’t cancel their case again.

  If I didn’t find a distraction, then my heart would break or I’d blow something up.

  8

  The Jamison’s lived in a neighborhood for “normals,” called Colechester Commons. Entering their neighborhood, I saw that it wasn’t unique or noteworthy in any way. It was typical suburbia made up of cookie cutter houses, white picket fences, and children running around playing.

  Much like supernatural communities, non-magical beings also liked to stay in close proximity to others like them. It harkened to the darker and bloodier times where survival required people and creatures to gather in numbers for the safety. Although, it really just made them sitting ducks. And even now, if a supernatural wanted to hurt a normal, grouping into one neighborhood certainly wouldn’t prevent it.

  As I got out of Betty with Muffin, I got several curious looks from the neighbors and some that were borderline hostile.

  I stopped at the door and knocked. No sooner did my fist connect to the door, then it was wrenched open mid-knock — making me off balance. I quickly stabilized myself and forced a fake smile on my face.

  “Tell me you have some news,” said Mrs. Jamison.

  She had dark circles under tired eyes. Her faded blond hair was streaked with gray and her willowy build was rounded out in the hips. She was the dimmer version of her youthful beauty.

  “May I come in?” I asked.

  “Oh yes, please do. Where are my manners?” she said. “Please follow me. Floyd is around here somewhere.”

  She escorted me to a living room and gestured to the couch. I took a seat and barely restrained a groan from the feel of it. The couch had a concrete level of softness. Mrs. Jamison must be pissed off to torture me with sitting on it. The floor looked more comfortable.

  “Floyd, the investigator is here,” she shouted before sitting on the edge of a chair facing me. I noticed how she sank into the chair, so the couch was special in its uncomfortableness.

  “What news do you have for us?” she asked.

  “I have some leads to follow up on, but before I can, I need some more information.”

  “Does that mean you have news of her?”

/>   This was the tricky part. I hadn’t done much work on this case since I’d been assigned it. When they hired us and then fired us within days, any work stalled. Getting re-hired nearly a week after she’d runaway a second time cost invaluable time. While not making much progress wasn’t wholly my fault nor was it intentional, I couldn’t very well tell Mrs. Jamison that. I needed to get information from her without indicating my lack of progress on the case.

  “I’d like to review some information with you, so I can determine the priority of my next steps.”

  Mr. Jamison joined us.

  “How can we help?” he asked as he put an arm over the small woman’s shoulders.

  “I’d like to determine her last known whereabouts and chat with her friends and associates.”

  Mr. Jamison frowned.

  “We were under the impression that was already done.”

  “Quit being hard on the girl,” said Mrs. Jamison.

  “My apologies,” he said.

  “To some extent, yes, but I find that visiting the last known location is often helpful and can give me clues.”

  I quickly checked on Muffin and saw that I worried unnecessarily. My fierce guard dog was stretched out on the floor by my feet, snoring.

  “Her last location was at the community center Downtown, Vertical Horizons. Emma Lynn volunteers there. She has such a big heart and loves helping the less fortunate.” said Mrs. Jamison.

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “Three days ago, we went to pick her up around eight. Once we couldn’t find her, we knew something was wrong. She’s always been so well-behaved.”

  “You forgot the first time,” said her husband.

  “Yes, well, that was a mistake. She had a school trip we’d forgotten about. But, this time, she left a note for us.”

  That was new information and it implied that she was more than a runaway and less likely a kidnapping victim. Although, she didn’t fit the risk factors for a runaway.

  Her home life was stable and didn’t include violence, neglect, or abuse. She didn’t have any obvious issues with school. The only potential issue with school was being extremely shy or possibly an outcast. She hadn’t shown any signs of mental problems.

  “Are you sure that the note was from her? Do you still have the note, and can I see it?” I asked.

  “No, see the thing is –” started Mr. Jamison.

  His wife cut in, “We lost it.”

  “You lost the last known communication from your missing daughter?”

  “When you put it that way, it’s sounds kinda bad,” said Mrs. Jamison.

  “How exactly did you lose it?”

  “Our dog ate it.”

  “Your dog? I don’t see a dog here and my dog hasn’t sensed another animal.”

  “He was hit by a car.”

  Really, a car is all they could come up with?

  “I think you should call the enforcers.”

  Or, I should contact them. The enforcers could do a thorough investigating of the Jamisons. No one could be this stupid.

  “We really don’t want to involve them,” said the wife.

  Of course she didn’t. If they were in any way responsible for Emma Lynn’s disappearance, the enforcers would get it out of them. And that might be attention they didn’t want.

  “I need a reason why I shouldn’t turn this case over to the enforcers.”

  Mrs. Jamison burst into tears. The tears weren’t going to work. This case wasn’t going anywhere except to people with the authority to investigate and arrest the Jamisons.

  “It’ll ruin her future and she’ll hate us forever,” the woman wailed. “She’s going to work for the Rare Herbs and Medicinals Company. She interned there last summer and once she graduates, they are taking her on as a full-time employee,” said Mrs. Jamison.

  “You didn’t go to the enforcers because of a job?”

  My head started to throb with the beginning of a mighty migraine. These people were too much.

  “That does sound pretty unbelievable, but it’s the truth. You don’t have to trust us. You can ask around,” said Mr. Jamison.

  “Who can verify about your dog?”

  “Does this mean you believe us?” asked Mrs. Jamison.

  “I’m not saying anything either way.”

  “Come, we can show you. Spot is being prepared for burial.”

  Muffin continued his trip through dreamland, and I went to see whatever proof they had for me.

  I followed them to the kitchen and stretched out on the dining room table, was a dog, covered with a silky blanket and a crown of flowers. Dozens of lit candles sent out flowery scents to block out the smell of death.

  Mrs. Jamison saw me looking at their bizarre memorial to their pet.

  “I know it’s odd, but that’s what you learn to expect when you marry a taxidermist,” she said.

  Either they were criminal masterminds that knew how to cover their tracks, or they were telling the truth. Based on the lack of intelligence and any common sense that they’d shown so far, I was going with them being honest folks.

  “I’ll stay on the case. What will Emma Lynn do for the Rare Herbs and Medicinals Company when she is hired on?”

  “They haven’t decided, so it’s a general position until they determine the role best suited to her,” she said.

  “I didn’t realize they took employees right out of school without additional training. Do you know what skills in particular they wanted Emma Lynn for?” I asked.

  “We don’t. Part of taking her on as an intern meant that we needed to sign a non-disclosure agreement and so did Emma,” said Mrs. Jamison.

  What was going on at Rare Herbs and Medicinals? I should pay another visit to Mr. Smith. He might be able to tell me something about these internships or why the company needed to recruit kids.

  “How soon after you discovered she was gone did you come to our Agency?”

  Both of them looked uncomfortable at first.

  “We weren’t sure what to think. She was due to meet with her future boss at the Rare Herbs and Medicinals Company.”

  “So, how long?”

  “A day.”

  My head was pounding now. Muffin was still content, and I really wanted to get away from these people.

  “Did you already speak to her friends or boyfriend?”

  “No, she’s a quiet girl and stays to herself for the most part. Her life revolves around school and her community projects.”

  That sounded like quite a rip roaring good time. No wonder she left. And, what teenage girl didn’t have at least a few friends and confidants?

  “Did she ever bring anyone to the house?”

  “No, never. Our girl is a serious one and hopes to be in management at the Rare Herbs and Medicinals Company one day. She won’t let anything alter her course,” said Mr. Jamison.

  “Did she talk about having trouble with anyone either at school or at Vertical Horizons?”

  “No, nothing like that,” said Mrs. Jamison.

  “Can I check her room?”

  “Is that really necessary?” asked Mr. Jamison.

  “It’ll help, but I won’t force you to let me see it.”

  “Of course, follow me,” said Mrs. Jamison, who threw a dirty look at her husband.

  Mrs. Jamison pointed to a mantle of photos. In each photo was their daughter doing the typical teenage activities, standing at a dance, at the movies, eating at BAM Burger. The key difference from other teens was that she was alone in every single one.

  “Floyd means well, but this whole thing has been so hard on us. We just want her back. She’s our only child and means the world to us.”

  What I walked into was unexpected. Rather than a drab and boring room – based on the description I had on Emma; it was a virtual haven. Heck, even I wanted to sit down and spend some time here. There was a mural dominating the wall that showed a star scape. It was so realistic, that I touched it to make sure it was only a pain
ting.

  “Incredible work,” I said.

  “That’s our Emma’s work. Who knows where she got the artistic talent from? Neither me, nor Floyd can draw anything more than a stick figure. And even that is a struggle for me,” said Mrs. Jamison.

  I looked over the star scape. It covered the ceiling with shooting stars, sparkling planets, and glowing suns. There was a telescope on her desk and what appeared to be a sketchbook. An easel, with a blank canvas, was set up in a corner. This wasn’t a room. It was a dreamer’s escape. Emma Lynn wasn’t the boringly vanilla girl I thought she was. If I missed this about her, what else have I and her parents not picked up on?

  I went to a midnight blue desk. It had three drawers, knickknacks and a computer. Like the rest of the room the theme of space continued. There was a super nova, comets, and sparkling stars on it. Looking closer, I saw swirls of violet, purple and blue through the desk in a pattern reminiscent of a spiral galaxy.

  “Did she also paint the desk?” I asked.

  “She did. And she’ll get to paint more once you find her,” said Mrs. Jamison.

  “Have you gone through her computer for online activity? Or, her emails?” I asked.

  “We value and respect boundaries and trust our daughter. We don’t need to snoop,” said Mrs. Johnson.

  “Given that she’s missing, every avenue needs to be explored, even her online profile – sites she visits, social media, emails.”

  “That is so invasive,” said Mr. Jamison.

  Did these people want to find their daughter or not? Despite their naivety and stupidity, they genuinely seemed to love and care for her. Emma Lynn didn’t meet the typical criteria of a runaway like abuse or neglect, drug or alcohol abuse, or mental illness. I also couldn’t see any signs for concern about her home life.

  In the scheme of things, working a case felt like a low priority. My father was lurking, we didn’t have a home or place of employment, Jennica had no magic, and Zander was still Zander. With my magic back, it was only a matter of time before the Mage Guild found out about it. Chances are Emma Lynn went on an adventure and would return with stars in her eyes, but ready to live her carefully planned life.

  “I want one or both of you to go through her computer. Contact me if you find anything that is odd in any way. It doesn’t matter how small. I’ll follow up with you in a day or so to get any information about what you find. I can also give you an update.”