Gram Croakies

by Sam Cheever

  A brisk breeze filled with the scent of ozone blew past, tugging my long brown strands into the air and whipping them against my cheeks.

  I looked up into the previously bright blue sky and saw a fierce wall of charcoal gray hovering overhead, lightning threading through the thick bank of clouds.

  My gaze slid from the storm that had come up too fast, to the man standing in front of me with his small feet tucked tidily together and his undersized hands clasped in front of him. His old-fashioned suit was perfectly unwrinkled, and when the first drops of rain started to fall with an excess of energy upon my face and arms, the drops never touched him. “What are you?”

  The question was through my lips and dancing on the air before I could stop it.

  It elicited an answering smile on Mr. Geras’s small, wizened face. “I’m the earth, the sun, and the sky. I’m time before it was measured and thought before it was realized.”

  Skunk’s knickers! That wasn’t helpful at all.

  “Yeah but…”

  Fortunately, Grym’s heavy footsteps saved me from making a complete fool of myself. He came up behind me, still in his human form and still looking like death served on a shiny platter. He gripped my arm as rain pelted him on the face and turned his dark hair to glossy strings. “We’re done here.”

  I let him urge me toward the car because I didn’t want to be there anymore. But he stopped before he slipped into my vehicle and looked back.

  Watching us, Geras stood with his hands clasped and his person completely dry.

  Hail started to smack against my car. I yelped as it bit into my exposed flesh and dove inside.

  “These people, humans, aren’t your possessions. They aren’t to be manipulated or used to further your products or your agenda,” Grym told the other man. “You won’t get away with hurting them.”

  Geras’s reply was to smile, the mustache lifting high on his cheeks. “Clearly, you’ve never been in Sales,” he said. And then he turned away and started toward the building.

  In the blink of an eye, the rain stopped and the sun came back out, leaving only a distant rumble of thunder behind. Like a warning from the goddess.

  “What was he?” I asked Grym, who was once again doubled over in my passenger seat, looking miserable.

  He rolled his eyes in my direction, unable to move his wedged head. “If that was Mr. Geras, I’m guessing he’s either the god of aging or he has a god as a sponsor. His power was off the charts.”

  “Geras?” I asked, my college classes in Greek Mythology coming back to me. “He and the goddess Hebe were tight,” I said.

  “Yep. Makes sense. Hopefully, they aren’t in this together. It sure looks like they are.”

  I grimaced. “Awesome sauce. Do you think he killed those women?”

  Grym’s head moved a fraction of an inch, ripping the fabric in the ceiling of my car.

  “Verbal answers only, please. My car can’t take any more head-shaking attempts.” I rubbed the little car’s dashboard soothingly.

  He sighed. “I don’t believe in coincidences. I think it’s too much of a coincidence that Celia Pepper was dealing in youth creams and then she dies the way she did. I also think it stretches credulity that the company that makes the youth cream is called Hebe Industries and it’s owned by a man who calls himself Geras.”

  I’d been thinking the same thing. “So the only question is, which of them is sending the poisoned artifact out into the world to kill people? Or is the entire company involved?”

  “Technically, that’s two questions,” Grym told me.

  I favored him with my version of Sebille’s patented “You’re an idiot” stare.

  He grinned. Or at least, I think he grinned. Half of his mouth was smashed against one rocky knee.

  I pulled into the alley next to Croakies and drove around back, hitting the button for the oversized garage door and driving through into the artifact library. I didn’t generally park inside the library, but we needed to keep Grym’s current guise under wraps.

  Sebille hurried over and glared at Grym as he wrenched himself from my poor car.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked my assistant, feeling as if I’d rather run upstairs and hide than hear what she had to say. Lately, it seemed that if I didn’t get bad news I got no news at all.

  “We need to feed that frog large doses of something that’ll make him sleep.”

  I frowned. “Why do you want Mr. Slimy to sleep?”

  “Because I’m assuming he wouldn’t talk while he was sleeping.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes and sighed. “I truly cannot take another moment of his constant blathering. I’m going to hide in my room and drink tea.” To my everlasting shock, she took off toward the back of the library, shrinking to bug size as she rounded the shelves and buzzing away.

  I really needed to find time to ask her where she’d relocated. It seemed it was somewhere inside the artifact library. Hopefully, it wasn’t somewhere dangerous or toxic.

  I shook off that concern, not because I didn’t care, but because there was only so much room in my head for crisis situations and I was full up.

  In fact, I was overflowing.

  Speaking of… I glanced at Grym. “You don’t know anything about magic traps, do you?”

  “No. What about them?”

  “I apparently need one to catch a hobgoblin.”

  He narrowed his gaze at me. “What hobgoblin?”

  Just then, Sebille buzzed back around the shelf. “I forgot to tell you, those furry hellions are back. Lea just came and took Hex home a few minutes ago.”

  “Thank the goddess,” I murmured, closing my eyes in relief. My eyes snapped open to ask where they’d been, but Sebille was already gone.

  “Naida? What hobgoblin?”

  Firefly lightbulbs! He didn’t know about that crisis. He’d been at home having a life and death crisis of his own when we discovered we were infested.

  I sighed, leaning wearily against my car. “Rustin found hobgoblin dust in the bookstore after Cinderella’s wand cleaned the place to within an inch of its life. Literally.”

  He thought about that for a moment. “You know it had to come from…”

  “Hebe Industries,” I said, nodding. “LA helped me put that together. We’re thinking maybe it’s here to distract us from the artifact thing.” I fell silent, frowning in thought.

  “Who’s LA?” Grym asked after a moment.

  “My friend from Illusion City. A human familiar.”

  “I’ve heard of them. The human Familiars pretty much run Illusion City don’t they?”

  I nodded. “LA’s wired in with all the magic users in this area. I wonder what she knows about Hebe Industries.”

  “It might be worth checking out.” Grym rubbed a blocky hand over his face and took a step back. I looked up just in time to see him fall against a metal support column that creaked loudly under his weight.

  I hurried over and looked into his eyes. They were red-rimmed and looked feverish. When I felt his rock-like flesh, I couldn’t discern a fever, but I didn’t know what a gargoyle’s normal temperature was supposed to be. “Are you feeling worse?” I asked, chewing my lip with dread for his response.

  He slid down the pole, dropping to his butt with a “rocks hitting the floor” sound. “I just need to rest a bit.”

  “Why don’t you go upstairs…”

  He shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the pole. “I’m fine here. I’ll crush your furniture.”

  His eyes didn’t open again. I reached out to give him comfort but changed my mind, pulling my hand back. I resisted the intimacy of that touch. Besides, I didn’t even know if touch was comforting to a man who was made of rocks.

  His big form quaked violently. Dread spread in my belly, causing it to twist with fear. The artifact had started to overwhelm even the special protection of being in his gargoyle form.

  This was not good. “I’ll just go up and get you a pillow and a b
lanket then.”

  I ran up the stairs, trying to think who I could call to help him. Madeline Quilleran’s name stayed in the forefront of my mind. She’d had the embryo sample for several hours. Maybe she’d made some progress figuring out how to reverse the artifact poisoning.

  As soon as I made Grym more comfortable, I was going to contact her. If she wouldn’t come to us, I’d somehow get Grym to her.

  A determined gray blur shot out of my apartment as I headed for the door. Mr. Wicked blasted past me and barreled down the steps with half a bagel hanging out of his mouth.

  I opened my mouth to yell at him for stealing the leftovers from my rushed breakfast, but he was already out of sight.

  I shook my head and continued on my way. I’d deal with Wicked’s new bad habit later. After I got the other seven problems I was dealing with solved.

  16

  A Dearth of Solutions

  I tucked Grym in as best I could and left him sprawled across the hard floor to check on Croakies. The store looked a lot better than it had the night before. All the books seemed to have been salvaged, and the carpet had never looked so clean.

  I fixed myself a cup of tea, grimacing as I took a sip of the bitter brew. Where was Sebille and her tea-talents when I needed them?

  A familiar green squish hopped up onto the tea counter and blinked at me.

  After I recovered from the shock, I greeted the frog. “Hey, Mr. Slimy. How’s it going?”

  I’m glad you asked. I was wondering if you could tell me where your furry gray friend has gone? I’ve been looking for him all day, but he seems to have disappeared.

  The complexity of the question shocked me a bit. It seemed like Slimy’s magic-infused brain might be gaining steam. “I just passed him on the stairs. He was hurrying somewhere with half a bagel.”

  Slimy blinked a few times, his throat expanding and contracting. Then he said, Stairs?

  Okay, so much for the gaining steam thing.

  I shook my head and grabbed my cell. LA didn’t answer her phone, so I left a message for her to return my call and disconnected.

  …hanging around with that little guy.

  Slimy had clearly gone on talking while I left my message, but I’d only caught the tail end of it. I fixed my attention more firmly on the fat squish. “What did you say?”

  He blinked at me a moment to let me know I was being annoying and then repeated what he’d said while I wasn’t paying attention. I said, Wicked walked through here with that little guy before, but he didn’t stop to answer my questions about what he was doing. Nobody wants to answer my questions. I have so many questions. It’s like this whole gigantic world has opened up and I don’t recognize any of it…

  I held up a hand to stop him, starting to understand Sebille’s frog fatigue. “I’ll answer one of your questions. Then I’d like you to answer one of mine.”

  He thought about it for a heartbeat and then said, Agreed.

  “Okay, shoot,” I told him.

  Shoot? As in propel bullets toward your physical body? Or as in point a camera at you and click?

  I closed my eyes for calm. Apparently, with Slimy, we would have to ride the Literal Train to its final destination. “I meant, ask me your question.”

  Oh. Very well. Why is the sky blue?

  Buzzard panties! How in the goddess’s bunny-eared slippers would I know that? I thought about it for a moment and then said, “The Universe paints it once a century. I think the Trompe-l'œil clouds are a nice touch, don’t you?”

  Blink. Blink. Blink. Yes, they’re very nice. They look so real.

  I nodded my agreement. “Now it’s my turn. Tell me about the little guy. Where did he come from?”

  I don’t know where he came from. He walked through that door over there by the small bookshelf. He looked around for a minute, saw me, and then hurried back through the door.

  “He came from the artifact library? You’re sure?”

  If that’s what’s behind that door over there then yes.

  I didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. “What did this little guy look like?”

  Little, the frog told me with no apparent sarcasm.

  “And?” I encouraged, trying hard not to reach out and pop him on the snout with a fingertip.

  And what? He was small, bossy, and had a smudge of something above his lips.

  I closed my eyes. A mustache might look like a smudge of something to a frog who didn’t understand the new world he’d been thrown into. Please goddess he’s not referring to Geras.

  I opened my eyes. “Where did he go after he left the bookstore?”

  The frog gave a happy little hop. Uh, uh, uh. You said one question. That’s three. I gave you one bonus question, but I’m afraid I have to cut you off at two.

  I wondered if popping him on the snout would do serious damage to the frog. I didn’t want to hurt him. Not really. I just wanted to bend him to my will.

  And take out my frustrations.

  Okay, probably not a good idea to thump his snout. I had a LOT of frustrations. I’d likely send him sailing across the room. Sigh… “Okay, ask me one more question. Make if fast.”

  All right. This one is really fast. Why is there air?

  Goddess take the wheel.

  Closing my eyes and counting to ten, I clenched my hands together to keep from flicking him across the room.

  Sometime later…the duration of which felt like days but was probably only hours…we were sitting on the floor next to one of the bookshelves and Sebille was helping me sort a new delivery of books when Slimy hopped through the dividing door accompanied by Wicked.

  “The prodigal son returns,” Sebille said, looking disgusted. “What’s he been up to lately?”

  Wicked rubbed against my leg, purring, and I pulled him into my lap. “I’m guessing he and Hex have been searching for the hobgoblin.”

  She nodded. “At least nothing more has happened in the shop.”

  “Knock wood,” I said. I handed her a new copy of Advanced spells for Sour Stomach and Gastric Distress, and she shoved it into the right spot on the shelf. I pointed to the thin volume on her lap. “You forgot one.”

  She looked down at the book on specialty tea blends for magical cures, shaking her head. “I’m buying this one. It has a lot of great information in it.”

  “You don’t need to buy it, Sebille. Just read it and we’ll put it on the borrow shelves. I’ve got a second copy on order anyway.”

  She frowned, finally nodding. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  I laughed. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already benefitted from a few of those spells. I’m all about you widening your repertoire of magical tea cures.”

  Sebille tucked a thick strand of bright red hair behind a pointed ear. “Thanks.”

  We worked in silence for a few more minutes, the mundane task soothing my frazzled nerves. I’d placed calls with LA, Theo and Madeline, the last one through the mirror, and nobody had been available. Lea had promised she’d bring some herbal potions over that might help Grym, but I really needed to talk to the giant and get his trap. Sebille was right, things had quieted back down, but I couldn’t help feeling as if it was the calm before the storm.

  The front doorbell jingled. I looked up to see Franny Clauss coming into the store. She grinned widely when she spotted us on the floor. “What are you two doing down there?”

  “Hi, Ms. Clauss.” I shoved to my feet. “Just putting some new stock away. How are you today?”

  Her gaze slid around the shop. “I’m well. Sad of course. But it’s been therapeutic for Glenny and me to plan the girls’ funerals.” A shadow passed over her attractive face. I noticed the new lines around her eyes and mouth. Losing her friends had been hard on her. I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you, dear. I actually came in to give you this.” She handed me a small card with impeccably tidy handwriting cover
ing it. “Those are the dates and times for the services. I thought you might want to come.”

  “Of course. Thank you for this. It was very kind of you to come all the way over here. You could have called.”

  “I know. But I needed to get out of the house for a bit.” She looked at the bookshelves, her gaze filled with longing. “Glenny doesn’t want to talk about anything but funerals.” She sighed. “She just seems consumed by guilt for not being there that night. As if her being there would have helped those poor women.” Franny shook her head. “I just want life to get back to some semblance of normal.”

  I thought I understood her need to return to life before sorrow. Back to tea with friends and hours sitting in a comfy chair reading books from favorite authors. Which reminded me. I held up a finger. “Wait right here. I have something for you.”

  I hurried over to the sales counter and reached underneath it, grabbing the two books I’d rubber-banded together earlier on a whim. They were part of a new shipment of mysteries, and I happened to know the author was a particular favorite of Mrs. Foxladle’s and Franny’s. “These came in last night.” I handed them to her and she took them like they were made of glass. Her gaze devoured the titles and then rose to mine, filled with wonder. “These just released today. How’d you get them so fast?”

  I winked. “I have friends in high places.” I actually had one friend, a Doppelganger spirit who worked for a publisher in New York and got me advance copies of the hottest new releases. “I thought it might give you both some relief from all the other stuff.”

  She sniffled, scrubbing the back of her hand under her eyes to catch the tears and gave me a one-armed hug. “That’s so sweet of you, dear. Thank you.”

  She glanced around one last time, bent down to scratch Wicked’s ears, and cooed at Mr. Slimy, who was a small green pile of corpulence and bulgy eyes near my cat. When she left, Franny was hugging her books to her chest as if they were the richest treasure.

  My cell rang as the door swung shut behind Franny. I looked down and saw with excitement that it was Theo. “I’m so glad you called!” I told him.