Bloodstone (Talisman)

by S. E. Akers

“Yeah…or the beach,” I added, sizing my selection up in the mirror.

  Beatrix tilted her head. “Won’t it be too chilly for swimming?”

  “High 70ºs to low 80ºs,” I replied, confident about the stats I’d pulled up online. “I’d hate to not bring one and need it. I’d like to get a head start on my summer tan. Wait — I still tan, don’t I?”

  “Um…No. I’m afraid you’re stuck with peaches and cream,” Beatrix revealed.

  “Damn,” I mumbled as I eyed my skin like a permanent marker.

  “Maybe you should rethink the bikini?” Beatrix remarked curtly. “Since you can’t tan anyway.”

  “That’s okay. I can still swim.” Mara popped back in to remove the items we had passed on.

  “A range of 70º’ to 80º doesn’t sound that warm to me,” Beatrix added with a shiver.

  “It’s the same temperature it is here in June. I don’t think I’ll freeze,” I contended. Beatrix seemed restless about something, which aroused my curiosity. “What’s really the matter with it? Truth?” I inquired, mimicking her candor at the salon.

  “Well honestly, my dear, it makes you look a tad…fat,” Beatrix revealed.

  “Seriously?” I shot back, totally stunned. The tag tucked in my rear may have donned a bold, black “8”, in no way did I think this reasonably modest teal bandeau bikini make me look fat. Any inch I pinched ended up being muscle. If the insult wasn’t bad enough, the sound of Mara’s abrupt, shrieking gasp rattled the crystal chandelier hanging above our heads.

  Her hearing “that” out of a blind lady’s mouth isn’t good. I quickly ushered Mara out the door and whispered a swift, “Overlook her… She’s half-crazy,” to the stunned salesclerk. Frustrated, I raised the folded fabric around the waistline closer to my betty-button.

  “How about now?” I asked.

  Beatrix glanced at my alteration and let out an unimpressed, “Eh.”

  I sensed something else to her assertion. “Is this about your hair?” I demanded.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, my dear. Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinions. I merely expressed mine.” Leave it to self-conscious ’ole me to take a second-look in the mirror. “After all, I’ve been honest about everything else you’ve tried on. But if you’re comfortable with how you look in it, well then, that’s all that matters. You’ll just be hanging around your classmates. No one of any real importance.”

  Bea’s remark was bad enough, but the thought of lounging next to Tammy’s size 2 frame and even worse, Anna’s 0 figure was all it took for me to march behind the curtain and whip off my two-piece “sausage casing”. Even the smallest branch can look like a tree standing next to a daggone twig! I emerged with my clothes back on, ready to end our shopping excursion. I hung the suit back on the rack.

  “You’re not getting it?” Beatrix asked.

  I shot her a disbelieving glare. “Not now…Joan Rivers.”

  “And it was such a pretty color on you. It really brought out your eyes. Oh well… It’s probably for the best,” Beatrix predicted. “You don’t like to get wet anyway. Best to stay out of the water all together,” she fired out with a curt nod. Before I could make my beached-whale crack, Mara charged into the room with a collection of evening dresses.

  “I wasn’t sure if you needed anything formal or not,” Mara asked as she hung them on the rack.

  “Someone sure is trying hard to pad her pockets,” Beatrix whispered telepathically.

  I smiled. “Thank you, but I won’t need any of these.”

  “Maybe not for your trip, but most young ladies start shopping for their proms now. Why don’t you go through them and see if there’s anything you like? We just got these in and they may not be here when you come back.”

  “Don’t you mean if?” Beatrix remarked dryly, causing Mara’s stare to take a fiery turn.

  “I’ll take a quick look,” I promised politely with a smile as I ushered her out of the dressing room.

  “I don’t tolerate pushy well either,” Beatrix said.

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to go through them.”

  “So you’re going to the prom?” she inquired.

  “No. I mean…I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “I think you should,” Beatrix asserted. “You didn’t get to enjoy your last dance.”

  “True,” I said with a shudder as I flipped through the dresses. “But, if I do decide to tempt fate twice,” I announced as I yanked one of the dresses off the rack, eyeing it intently, “this is something I might like to wear.” I placed the midnight blue dress up against my frame and whirled around to Beatrix. “What do you think?” Beatrix’s eyes glazed over. “Bea?” She stared at the frock quietly, almost like she was in a deep trance. “What’s wrong with it?” I posed. “Wrong color? Wrong cut?” I turned back towards the mirror. “Should I start fasting now?” I remarked, half-joking.

  Beatrix took a deep breath. “Nothing, my dear,” she said with a tender rasp in her voice. “It’s absolutely stunning. I couldn’t have picked out a more perfect dress if I tried. Do you want to get it, just in case?” she asked thoughtfully with a slight raise of her brow.

  I turned back to the mirror and thought about the “just in case” part. Reality gave me a swift smack upside my head. I didn’t have a boyfriend, there were no prom invites on my horizon, and I certainly wasn’t going to get my hopes up. I placed the dress back on the rack.

  “Nah. It’ll probably go to waste.”

  “Are you sure?” Beatrix asked again.

  “Positive,” I replied, sticking to my “no expectations” guns.

  “All right then. I think we’re ready. I’ll go pay for these. Why don’t you run everything else out to the car and meet me at the Luggage Rack next door. You still need some decent bags for your trip.”

  “Okay, but promise you’ll behave,” I pleaded.

  “I promise… I will behave exactly as I’m treated,” Beatrix affirmed.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen the weight of your wrath,” I assured her, tallying up all 350 pounds of Officer Pete Ryan.

  “Don’t start none, won’t be none, I always say,” Beatrix voiced with a calculated pitch as she strutted out of the dressing room.

  “Now that’s hip,” I whispered to her mentally as I headed out of the boutique.

  My impromptu trip to the car afforded me the perfect opportunity to check on Katie. I hurried every step of the way to ensure a little extra time. Surely she was in need of some company. Once all the bags were stowed in my trunk, I began rummaging through my purse in search of my stir-crazy BFF. She was in here somewhere amongst the clutter of old receipts. I’m going to have to clean this thing out, I thought as I placed it on my trunk for a thorough search.

  While I combed through my crap, a vehicle slowed to a stop directly behind me. Sure enough, a man hollered out, “Lose something?”

  “No,” I replied politely and half-glanced back at the bright yellow vehicle.

  “You sure about that?” the voice asked again. A strange vibe shot through my body that forced me around. It wasn’t just any vehicle. It was a Hummer — the same bright-yellow mammoth SUV that was at the Drive-In in December. I stepped closer. Sure enough, a familiar face was sitting behind the wheel.

  “Mr. Webber?” I inquired, taken aback. The last news report I’d seen over a week ago claimed that he and his son were still missing. “I’m glad to see that you’re okay. I saw where the police were looking for—”

  “What are you looking for?” Mr. Webber interrupted. I glanced down at my purse and then back at him suspiciously.

  “Umm… Wh—What are you talking about?”

  “What you’re looking for,” Mr. Webber replied.

  I zipped my purse and slung it over my shoulder. “What am I looking for?” I asked as I stepped towards him, totally confused.

  “Something you’ve lost,” Mr. Webber remarked as he removed his sunglasses. If the hollow-black look in his eyes wasn’t startling enough, the o
nyx ring he was wearing sent me back several feet. “Your friend,” he hissed. Just as I leapt towards his door, he laid on the gas, leaving me in his fumes and face down on the pavement.

  Dammit! I sprang up and paused for only a second. Both Katie and Bea would have to wait. He was getting away. I took off after Mr. Webber, darting around every turn of the parking garage, until I finally caught up to him on the second level. With a good running jump, I landed on the roof of the H-2, only to be knocked off when I exceeded the ceiling’s low clearance. I rolled right into one of the concrete walls. With a furious gaze, I scanned the streets below for his vehicle. Good thing it stuck out. No sooner than I’d spotted it turning onto a ramp that led to US Interstate 77, headed south, I swung my legs over the side and jumped to the ground. I took off like a bat out of hell, following the interstate down alongside the banks of the Kanawha River where I’d be well out of sight. Once he had passed the last exit before the automated tollbooth on the WV Turnpike, I increased my speed. This was the first time I was ever thankful that West Virginia still had a pay-as-you-go daggone road.

  Invisibly, I took out the security cameras as soon as I’d arrived at the Toll Plaza. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Within a few minutes, he came cruising down the turnpike and slowed to a stop.

  I shook my head as I watched him search around inside his vehicle. I know this guy is possessed, but you would think this idiot would have his eight quarters ready.

  I sailed across the lanes to the first bay and threw open the door. I uncloaked myself and yelled, “Surprise!” Then I slammed his head into the steering wheel, repeatedly. Noting that he was good and out, I shoved him over into the passenger-seat. I grabbed some bungee cords I’d found in the glove compartment and used them to tie him up. I also found a diamond-dusted onyx blade in there. Figures, I grumbled as I locked his seat belt. When I closed the door, I noticed a guy in an 18-wheeler sitting two lanes down. By the look on his frozen face, he had seen plenty.

  I tossed him a smile. “He didn’t have correct change,” I yelled out. I even pumped my hand for him to honk like I would when I was little, standing beside the road whenever a coal truck would go by. The gruff-looking trucker simply nodded, laid on his horn, and then pulled straight off. Not a second later, Beatrix shot me a quick mental message.

  “I’m at the car. Where are you?” Beatrix asked.

  “Be there in a sec,” I assured her as I threw the Hummer in drive. Let’s see what this thing can do. I floored it for several yards and made a sharp u-turn. We bounced up and down the rocky ditch until we’d reached the other side. “Good. Now I just need to figure out what to do with you,” I remarked to my unconscious, possibly still-possessed passenger.

  Bea was standing by my car when I pulled up beside her, screeching to a stop.

  She shook her head disapprovingly as I hopped out. “Honestly, dear. You’ve gone from a beat-up old muscle car to a flashy redneck chariot. I had seriously hoped you would settle on a nice sedan instead.”

  “I’m not test-driving it,” I assured her as I led her over to the passenger-side and opened the door. I unfastened the seatbelt.

  “Ah. Stolen, I see,” she remarked after watching Mr. Webber fall out of the SUV and onto the cement floor. “Who is this?”

  “Mr. Webber. One of the men who’s been missing since the last week of December. The man I told you about that came by the Drive-In. The one I warned.”

  “You located him?” Beatrix quizzed cluelessly.

  “Not exactly,” I replied as I pulled out the diamond-dusted onyx blade. “He found me.”

  Beatrix took the beautifully-crafted, cursed dagger and held it up in the air. “My, my. This is a dreadful surprise.”

  “He’s possessed, just like the bikers at the Drive-In.” I shook Mr. Webber several times, but he wouldn’t wake.

  Beatrix pointed to my wrist. “Where’s your watch?”

  “In my purse. I took it off for the manicure.”

  “How is it supposed to alert you in there?” Beatrix posed.

  “I was with you…shopping,” I rebutted.

  “Get it out and put it on this instant,” Beatrix ordered. “I thought we already had this discussion after your Valentine’s Day massacre.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I huffed as I dug through my purse. I pulled it out and slapped it on my wrist. “There. Happy?”

  “Quite.” Beatrix pulled my lapis lazuli ring out of her purse and handed it to me. “Here,” she said. “Now take this.”

  I didn’t move. “You brought THAT THING?”

  “Yes. Wave this under his nose,” Beatrix instructed.

  “Why?”

  “There are trace amounts of sulfur in it. It will act like a supernatural smelling-salt. He’ll wake,” Beatrix stated assuredly.

  “I’ll pass,” I protested.

  “Really dear,” Beatrix grunted. “You mustn’t be so stubborn. Accept it. It’s a part of you, whether its on your finger or not,” my mentor concluded as she waved the stone under his nose. Even after a few passes, he still didn’t move. “It’s always a good idea to leave your survivors verbal, dear. You can get more information out of them.” Beatrix waved the ring back and forth again. “Exactly how hard did you hit him?” Before I could answer, Mr. Webber came to, though he still wasn’t the jolly old tourist I’d met at the Drive-In months ago.

  He started flailing about violently, thrashing like a fresh carp plucked off a line and thrown into the hull of a boat. I jerked Mr. Webber up off the ground and threw him up against his Hummer, denting its rear section.

  “Where’s Katie?” I demanded, over and over. Mr. Webber wouldn’t speak. I slammed him harder and harder against the vehicle, but the possessed man simply cackled louder each time.

  “Shiloh, he can’t answer. He’s been ordered not to. He won’t tell us a thing, not until the Onyx releases his soul.”

  “So what do we do now?” I asked.

  Beatrix stared at the struggling half-man, half-fiend. “He does pose a particular problem. We can’t just let him go. Let me think,” Beatrix mumbled as she paced the rooftop garage, mulling over the dilemma. She clutched the railing and shifted her gaze, panning Charleston’s skyline pensively. Beatrix shot back around, now bubbling with delight, and strutted towards Mr. Webber. “I know just what to do with you,” she insisted with a crafty smile.

  With a quick and purposeful whirl, the Golden Topaz Talisman immediately turned herself into a freakishly large fowl-like creature. Mr. Webber cowered at the sight of the menacing bird that had a wingspan of at least twenty feet. The next thing I knew, Beatrix had snatched up Mr. Webber with her razor-sharp talons and was soaring off the rooftop parking garage with him firmly in tow. I ran to the ledge, just as she was cloaking herself and her prisoner with an invisibility spell. I had no idea where she was going or when she would be back.

  “Give me a few minutes to tie up some loose ends, dear,” Beatrix requested telepathically.

  I shot her back a confused but appeasing, “Okay.”

  I didn’t dare risk taking Katie out of my purse. I figured it best to wait until morning. The last thing I needed was Beatrix sneaking up on me invisibly to catch me red-handed holding the very diamond I’d tricked her into thinking was securely locked away. With nothing left to do but wait, I resorted to a little finger tapping on the concrete wall, which triggered an unnerving thought.

  If the Onyx possessed Mr. Webber, then what happened to his son?

  Ten minutes later, I felt a jolting tap on my shoulder. “Ready, dear?” Beatrix asked.

  I spun around on my heels, clenching my chest. “Bea! Don’t do that!” I scolded. Mr. Webber was nowhere in sight. “What did you do with him?” Beatrix flashed a twisted smirk and started leading me back to my car. “He’s not dead, is he?”

  “No,” Beatrix assured as she patted my hand. “I put him somewhere safe. Somewhere the Onyx will never find him. Somewhere he can’t bother us.”

  �
��That’s good,” I replied, relieved that the innocent man was still alive.

  “Now can we grab a bite to eat?” Beatrix pleaded as we hopped in the car. “All this excitement has made me famished!”

  I started up my Charger. “I guess,” I replied, despite my appetite being zapped. “By the way, what kind of bird was that?”

  “A teratorn,” Beatrix replied nonchalantly as she lowered my visor and lightly whisked her long, limp bangs.

  “I’ve never seen one of those before.”

  “Of course not. They’re extinct,” Beatrix remarked as she plucked a leftover bluish-black feather from her hair and laid it on my dash. “They have been for millions of years.”

  Good thing, I thought quietly as I focused on the ferociousness of the bird’s harrowing size and not to mention, its savage claws and gruesome hooked-beak.

  We headed straight for the Marriott, where we deposited my entire haul and freshened up. And yes, Beatrix whipped out her little gold lighter and roasted “Mountain Mama” right there in the sink. Once she had changed into a more “Bea-like” shimmery ice-blue blouse, we drove over to Shapley’s for dinner. The fancy waterfront-restaurant boasted not only some of the most delicious foods to suit any palate, but equally eye-pleasing views of the Kanawha River. A hostess seated us at a table right beside a long bank of windows. Though the stately scene of the capital building was picturesque and the food was delicious, I had a hard time enjoying the meal because of something Beatrix had mentioned quite cavalierly after our salads.

  I looked over at the majestic golden dome that topped the state capital building, cringing with doubt. “Are you sure he’s going to be okay?”

  “For the fifteenth time, yes,” Beatrix replied. “I wish you would stop obsessing about it and enjoy your meal.”

  “It’s a little hard knowing you trapped poor old Mr. Webber inside the cupola of that dome way up there,” I insisted.

  “Would you have rather me tied him to the spire? I started to,” Beatrix remarked. “There’s a lovely eagle that sits on its top. Whoever cast it did a phenomenal job.”

  “No,” I replied flatly.

  “Honestly, child, it was the perfect place. That dome is gilded in almost a full 24 karats of gold. That will help my containment charm to last a year if I would like.” I shot Bea a disapproving look. “Especially with me staking one of my topazes to it. He’s invisible to everyone but me.” Beatrix let out a childish giggle and pointed out the window. “When you think about it, it really makes a nice birdcage.”