by Mac Flynn
"And we've been consoling each other ever since," he concurred.
I took a step back and furrowed my brow at the over-sized coat on the undersized girl. The sleeves ran a few inches past the tips of her fingers and the lower hem scraped the top of her knees. "You think this makes her look fat?"
He nodded. "Definitely."
Toughs glared at us. "It isn't funny."
"No, but it's good enough. Now let's go," I told her as I opened the door. I paused in the doorway and glanced behind us at Orion. "What's the plan if these guys don't want to talk to us?"
He grinned and scooted us outside. "Believe me, they'll want to talk to you." Toughs and I slid onto the snowy porch and stopped at the top of the steps. Orion stepped back into the house and waved at us. "Good luck, and try not to look behind you."
Orion slammed the door shut.
CHAPTER 9
I glanced at Toughs. She met my gaze. "Never fall in love."
She nodded. "Definitely."
We walked over to my old beat-up car and slipped inside. Toughs wrinkled her nose at the dingy surroundings as I backed us out onto the street. "This car smells."
"That's the smell of journalism," I told her as we drove down the road.
She sniffed the air. "Journalism smells like a gym locker room."
I glanced at my short passenger. "Do you even remember what a gym locker room looks like?"
She glared at me. "Of course I do!"
"What about remembering anything important? Have you tried doing that?" I asked her.
Toughs sank down in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. She glared at the glove box. "Of course I've tried."
"And?"
"And I'm just getting bits and pieces, okay?"
I arched an eyebrow. "Anything we can work off of? At least to keep those phantom fans of yours off your tail."
She shrugged. "I remember smelling the ocean, and there was this guy standing near me. I can't make him out, but he was big and loud. He annoyed me a lot."
I snorted. "Sounds like you had a crush on someone."
Toughs' face darkened. "I was not. We were just good friends."
"Do you happen to remember the face or name of this good friend?" I wondered.
She scrunched her face up in thought. "It was something like Board or Patio. Something like that."
"Sounds like he had a wooden character," I quipped.
"It's not funny!" she snapped. "You think I like not remembering everything?"
I held up one hand. "Easy there, Toughs, I'm not the one trying to suck your soul to the other side. You don't happen to remember how you got from the ocean to little Apple Hollow, do you?"
She shook her head. "No."
I sighed. "Well, I suppose remembering something's a start. Anyway, why'd you want to come with me to meet a bunch of ice-sculpting old fogies, anyway? Seeing them playing floating Parcheesi and Chinese checkers isn't exactly going to be riveting stuff."
Toughs glanced out her window and shrugged. "I don't know. I just think you need my help, that's all."
I arched an eyebrow. "Help how?"
She frowned. "I told you I don't know. Something's just telling me I need to be near you. That's it."
I glanced down at the book in her lap. "And you had to take that with us?"
She clutched the tome to her chest. "It's important."
I sighed. "Well, just don't go chanting anything in any weird language in front of the wizards. They probably don't appreciate people speaking in tongues."
"Are they really dangerous?" she wondered.
I shrugged. "I doubt it. Most of the stuff around here isn't as dangerous as it looks or sounds, except maybe Orion's cooking. That's as dangerous as it smells."
Toughs cracked a smile. "He's always been pretty bad at cooking."
I arched an eyebrow. "How'd you know that?"
She looked at her feet and furrowed her brow before she shook her head. "I. . .I don't know. I just do."
I turned my attention back to the snowy road and pursed my lips. "I've got a feeling you know more than you know, kid."
She didn't reply, and the rest of the drive was quiet. The snow-covered trees stared at us as we drove through the countryside. We passed the hulking wrecks that sat in the junkyard, the point that marked the farthest I'd traveled along this particular road. I studied the left side of the road, waiting for some obscure, snow-hidden wooden sign that pointed toward the stoic and foreboding home of the good-Samaritan wizards.
What I got was a dazzling display of Christmas lights that lit up a large sign. The sign read, in big, bold burning letters:
Association of Wizarding Fellows Lodge and Tennis Courts
"I think we might have found the place," I commented.
Toughs scoffed. "I don't need a journalism degree to know that."
"Then that makes two of us," I quipped as I pulled off the county road and onto a smooth, freshly-plowed paved black road.
She glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. "You don't have a degree?"
I shook my head. "Nope. I excelled in the bullshit part, but couldn't quite manage the chain-of-command-deference portion."
"So how'd you get into being a journalist?" she wondered.
I shrugged. "I went the old-fashioned way. I started from the bottom and worked my way up until I was a journalist they could fire. And that's my long, sad story of how I got to Apple Hollow."
Toughs fell back against her seat and studied me. "I guess you're not as stupid as I thought."
I grinned. "Thanks. That means a lot coming from a pipsqueak."
She glared at me. "I'm not a-" I slammed on the brakes. Toughs grabbed the dash and winced as her seatbelt tightened across her chest.
"We're here!" I announced.
Toughs whipped her head to me and curled her lips back in a snarl. "You could have warned me!"
"I could have, but where's the fun in that?" I teased.
I opened my door and stepped out to get a full picture of the Association of Wizarding Fellows Lodge and Tennis Courts. It was a three-floor lodge hewn from thick, ancient trees. The building was rectangular with the long end being the front. Two huge wooden doors engraved with images and arcane writing made up the front entrance. Gray caulking was stuck between the logs, and the vinyl windows were tinted so no one could look inside.
We were parked in a paved and cleared parking lot, and around us was the thick forest of trees whose branches hung over some of the more remote parking spots. A few gray vans were parked in those spots and half-hidden by the tall piles of plowed snow.
Behind the lodge some fifty feet arose a one hundred-foot tall plateau with a sharp ledge. The jagged edges of the sudden drop looked down at the lodge with contempt, as did the gnarly trees that grew on the flat spot. Beyond the plateau some two miles was the beginning of a tall mountain range, the same that surrounded the entire valley. We were at the edge of weirdness, and it looked like a tourist trap.
"Gaudy," Toughs spoke up.
I nodded. "Yeah. Think they're compensating for something?"
"Lack of talent," she quipped.
I snorted and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "Kid, I think we're going to make some wonderful trouble together."
She shrugged off my arm, but I could see the corners of her pressed lips twitch up. "I'm not a kid."
I rubbed my hand on the top of her head. "Grow a couple more inches and we'll talk. Anyway, let's go inside before I change from a mom to a pop-sicle."
I strode forward and Toughs hurried by my side. "How are we going to get in?" she asked me.
I grinned. "That's easy, my daughter. We're just going to say we were just traveling through and wanted a look around. Once inside, we'll weasel our way into their hearts and question them about the ship."
She frowned. "That sounds a lot easier said than done, and I don't look anything like you."
"You take after your dad's side," I pointed out.
We reach
ed the doors and I pressed the doorbell. From inside came the heavy dong of a gong. A pair of shuffling feet came to the door.
Toughs and I jerked back when a porthole, hidden in the carvings, opened and a wizened old face stuck out of the hole. The old man's beard trailed out the bottom of the hole and hung below him like an afterthought. That, or an overgrown nose hair.
The man's bushy white eyebrows were mesmerizing. They moved up and down as he surveyed us. "Well? What do you want?" he snapped.
I shook myself and grabbed Toughs shoulder. I pulled her in front of me and slapped a smile on my face. The man's bushy eyebrows shot up. "We were just passing through and wanted to take a look in your wonderful-"
"Hold on one minute!" he screeched. He slid back and slammed the porthole shut.
Toughs and I glanced at each other. "I don't think your plan's working," she commented.
I opened my mouth to reply, but we heard the loud clang of metal bars slide away from the door. The entrances swung inward and revealed a large entrance hall. The wooden clapboard walls were rough, and the floor was made up of large smoothed stones. Opposite the front doors was a hearth that could fit a yak on a spit which was exactly what an apron-clad old man with a white beard was turning over a small bonfire.
I had a feeling the doors weren't opened to invite us to lunch when I noticed the two robed wizard-looking old men who flanked the entrance. They had their wands pointed at us and grim looks on their wrinkled faces.
The bearded greeter glared at us and jerked his head in the direction over his shoulder. "Get in here."
I grabbed Toughs shoulders and smiled at them as I turned us around. "You know what, I think I'll-" two more wizards stood behind us. They had wands, too. "-I think we'll come inside."
I led Toughs into the inner sanctuary of the bearded ones. She was a little stiff, but her face didn't show any signs of concern. She looked bored.
The doors were slammed shut behind us. The greeter turned to his left and waved his hand. "Follow me."
On either side of the entrance hall was a passage. We were taken down the right-hand one and around the corner to the back of the building. The four armed wizards walked beside and behind us like Stormtroopers. I hoped their aim was as good as the notorious dead shots.
We passed more robed fellows who gawked at us. Some of them lifted their long noses to the air and sniffed. I glanced behind us and noticed those wizards scowled at our backs.
"It's really nice of you guys to give us the grand tour," I spoke up. Dead silence. "And with armed guards, too. When do we get to see the torture chambers?"
"Quiet," the greeter growled.
I shrugged. "I was just trying to cover up your faux pas in forgetting to tell us about the lovely decor. Did you guys help make this place?"
The greeter glared at me over his shoulder. "The Temple is over one hundred and fifty years old."
I glanced around at the bearded men. "So you were all there for the grand opening?"
Toughs shoved her arm against me. "What are you doing?" she hissed.
I smiled at her. "Trying to liven up the party, dearest daughter of mine."
We reached the rear of the building and turned left into a small alcove in the wall. The alcove contained a winding stone staircase. The walls were also smoothed stone. Our footsteps echoed down the twisting passage as we delved thirty feet beneath the surface. The stairs kept going, but we got off on the first basement floor. A wide, long passage without doors or windows led to a single large wooden door at the very end.
"Dracula must be jealous," I quipped.
My snark fell flat on the bait as dead-silence reigned. The two guards on our sides passed us and stood on either side of the door. One of them opened the entrance and revealed a large council room complete with curved council table and a couple of rows of cheap seats in front of them.
Behind the curved table sat nine robed figures in high-backed wooden chairs. Plump cushions cushioned their posteriors. Each of them wore a different color of the rainbow, and hoods concealed their faces.
We had arrived.
CHAPTER 10
The figures raised their heads slightly, but not even for me to catch more than a sight of white whiskers and drooping beards.
The greeter hurried down the aisle like a nervous bride out of step with the bridal music and bowed before them. "Forgive me for disturbing you, my lords, but-" The central figure raised one pale, gnarly old hand so the palm faced the greeter.
"Bring them closer," his gravely voice commanded. The greeter stepped aside and we were escorted to the front. The elder waved his hand at the guards. "Step back.
"A moment, High Wizard," one of the others spoke up. It was the one who wore pink. He gestured to us. "We should retain the guards. They could be dangerous."
"We're confused, not dangerous," I spoke up.
Pinkie turned his hooded face toward me. His voice told me he was sneering. "All who ally themselves with the Beast are dangerous. Your exterior features only mask that."
I arched an eyebrow. "What beast?"
The green-robed fellow scoffed. "Surely you know why you're here, werewolf."
I clapped my hands on Toughs shoulders and nodded. "Yep. We're here to-"
"To steal more of our treasures," Pinkie interrupted.
Greenie slammed his hand on the table. "Why are we wasting time here speaking with them? We should probe their minds and find out what they-"
"No!" The small word came from an equally tiny voice. Toughs. She stepped forward and glared at the old men. "By your own code, Section 13, paragraph 8, probing without just cause is illegal, and punishable by death!"
Pinkie threw off his hood and revealed himself to be a couple decades short of Methuselah-age. His silver beard trembled as he leapt to his feet and glared at Toughs. "How do you know our code? No one outside of our order knows the details!"
"I know it more than you do!" she snapped.
The center man raised his hand again. Pinkie shut his trap. The gray-robed High Wizard leaned forward over the desk and seemed to study Toughs. "Do we know you, little one?"
Toughs put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I'm not little!"
The elder chuckled. "You are correct. You stand tall before the Colorful Council."
I snorted. "Colorful Council? Did that name win against the Robed Rainbow and the Geezer Group?"
Pinkie's face flushed the color of his robe. "You will show this council the deference it deserves!"
I whipped my head to him and narrowed my eyes. "You guys order us into this place, drag us through the holes, and expect some sort of respect when you didn't even offer us donuts?" I nodded at a table against the wall to my left. It was loaded with council snacks like donuts and cupcakes.
The High Wizard chuckled again. "You may have one, if you-"
"High Wizard, please!" Pinkie pleaded. He gestured to us. "These two are undoubtedly working in tandem with the Beast! We cannot treat them and expect them not to repay our kindness with betrayal."
"We don't even know any 'Beast,'" I protested.
"The coat proves your allegiance to that demon," Greenie spoke up.
I glanced down at myself, but my eyes caught on Toughs coat. The pink one from Orion's closet.
I arched an eyebrow. "So you guys are talking about Orion?"
A roar of anger rose from most of the council members. Pinkie slammed his fist against the table. "You see? She admits being allied with the Beast!"
"She admitted no such thing," the High Wizard countered.
"Her smell should tell you she belongs to him, and don't forget the coat!" Greenie protested.
"And what about our TV remotes he stole?" a hooded member spoke up.
The High Wizard raised his hands. "Please, let calm reign in this session."
That's when all hell broke loose.
One of the robed figures, the one in purple, leapt out of their seat and let out a high-pitched scream. "It touched me!"
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Another jumped onto the table and raised their robe high enough for me to glimpse their hair, wrinkled old legs. "I felt it, too!"
"Tailed Demon!" one of the others shouted.
That initiated a stampede as the wizards leapt from their chairs and climbed onto the tallest piece of furniture their old bodies could scramble onto. There were screams and shouts. The two guards from the door rushed in with wands at the ready.
Then someone pulled out a wand. Colorful streams of magic shot across the room. One of those beautiful, glistening lights arched into a member of the cheap seats. The cheap material exploded into a thousand sparkling bits of particle board and metal.
I grabbed Toughs' shoulders and pulled her toward the door. "Time to go!"
I caught a wild shot out of the corner of my eyes and ducked, pulling Toughs to the floor with me. The colorful stream of death flew over us, bounced off the metal back of one of the chairs and ricocheted back in our direction. I pushed Toughs forward and slid back across the smooth, cold stone floor. The stream passed between us and exploded one of the chairs.
I yelped when an arm wrapped around my waist and picked me off the floor. A glance over my shoulder told me it was one of the hooded guards. He leapt forward and grabbed Toughs in the same way before he spun around and raced toward a far corner of the chaos. The guard squished us into the corner and shielded us with his body with his front toward us.
That's when I noticed his beard was a little crooked, and fake. I grabbed the beard and gave it a yank. The thing tore off and there was a little, familiar yelp of pain.
"Orion!" I growled.
He pulled his hood back a little and grinned at me. "At your service."
"You can service yourself after this mess," I snapped.
He turned his head left and right, and blinked his eyes as he stared at the wall. "Mess? I don't see a mess."
I glanced over his shoulder at the chaos behind him. Half the chairs were exploded, most of the wizards were on high ground, and the guards were shuffling around the room looking for the Tailed Demon.
"Did you really have to make this grand of an entrance?" I questioned him.
He shook his head. "This wasn't me, I swear."
"And the stolen TV remotes?" I added.
He grinned. "That might be me, but I think we have more important-"
"I got it!" one of the council members yelled. He pointed at a spot on the ground beneath the refreshments table. "It exploded down there."
