The Leira Chronicles- The Complete Austin Series

by Martha Carr

  Leira tucked in the troll, saying, "Nesturnium," over him. She gently eased open her bedroom door, looking in on her mother and saw she was still asleep, the covers pulled up around her shoulders. Leira caught up with Correk at the door and pulled the door shut, locking it. Keep Mom safe. It was a constant thought.

  "Your mother is also part Light Elf. She can take care of herself," said Correk, gently.

  "Don't use the soft voice on me. Not this early in the morning," said Leira. "It just creeps me out."

  "Try to be understanding."

  "Try to get tazed."

  "What did Hagan say at times like these?"

  "Get the fuck over yourself, and where's my damn doughnuts?"

  "Leira!" The regulars were lined up at the bar, all wearing their Pin Pushers bowling shirts.

  "What are you all doing here this early?" she asked, waving to Estelle behind the bar.

  Estelle grunted and blew smoke out the side of her mouth, never bothering to take the cigarette out of her mouth.

  "We're celebrating! We won the local championship!" said Margaret.

  "It's bloody Mary time," growled Estelle, pouring tomato juice into a glass. A small bit of ash, still smoldering, dropped into one of the glasses. Estelle swirled the glass and shrugged, pouring in a healthy amount of vodka, finishing it off with a dash of tabasco. "That'll put it out." She stuck a stalk of celery in the glasses and slid them all down, moving them around as she pushed them. "Looks like you'll just have to take a chance," she cackled.

  Mitzi hesitated, Lemon clutched under her arm but Mike and Scott looked at each other and said in unison, "Whatever," grabbing a glass.

  Lucy tried to hand Leira a glass but Leira held up a hand. "No, none for me. On my way to work."

  "Aw, come on. You too Correk? You guys helped lead us to victory!" said Mike.

  "New job calls."

  "Hey, practice starts soon for the softball team. You're gonna be on the team, right?" asked Margaret.

  "We're the Ice Cold Pitchers," said Scott.

  "Mike wanted Sons of Pitches and Craig voted for the Good Wood but Estelle refused to sponsor the team unless we picked her choice," said Mitzi. "I said Bat Attitude."

  "You started with Brokebat Mountain."

  "Yeah, it's true, I did. That got voted down first."

  "I buy the shirts," yelled Estelle from the other end of the bar. "She who has the gold makes the rules."

  "I've got to run," said Leira.

  "You'll play, though, right?" asked Margaret. Everyone looked back and forth at Correk and Leira.

  "I do every year, don't I?"

  "You want us to check on your mom?" Lucy called out. Leira was already almost to the gate.

  Leira pictured them looking in the shoe box on the floor and wondering why she had tucked in a rat with green hair.

  "No need. She'll emerge when she's ready."

  It was a short walk to the Mustang, parked almost in front of the bar.

  “When did they start calling you Correk?”

  "When I made a point of telling them while you were out. No more Mr. Muppet. You're slipping. Even your luck only got you a spot to the side of the bar."

  Leira rolled her eyes. "I'm feeling like you're not taking this whole, I work for the Feds and there's a case thing seriously. Okay, fine, yes. We may as well hoof it down there. It's a block, Correk. Get out of the car. I'm not driving a block."

  He got out of the car and straightened his tunic, doing his best to look dignified. "It's not like you wouldn't find a place right in front of the trucks."

  Leira glared at him but looked at his outfit and said, "Okay, get in." She started up the car and rolled the car down a block to a spot just to the side of the food court.

  "Something is definitely off," said Correk, already opening the door before she turned off the car.

  "What is up with your insistence on wearing the tunic and the cowboy boots? Is it picture day?"

  "I have no idea what you're babbling about but this is the most comfortable outfit I have besides the yoga pants and you made rather rude remarks when I wore those the last time. Something about a lumpy butt."

  "Oh yeah," said Leira, laughing. "You had tube socks caught in the pants. Static cling'll get you every time. If I buy you some comfortable good old fashioned blue jeans, will you wear them? You can still wear the boots!" She got out of the car and headed for the taco truck.

  "I will try them. They must be comfortable. It's practically all people on Earth wear. Why are you heading straight for the taco truck?"

  "That should tell you something. Jeans go with anything and are very comfortable. And you always walk around all of the trucks and then end up at the taco truck and we don't have time for your ritual this morning. You either walk straight over here or get nothing. This car pulls out in five minutes, either way."

  Correk relented and followed her to the truck.

  "The usual?" The man in the truck was already making three egg and bacon breakfast tacos without even waiting for Correk's reply. Leira gave him a dead fish look. "I'll take two," she said, handing over the money.

  "You'll thank me later. I shaved at least ten minutes off all of that. Same results."

  Leira and Correk stood in a non-descript building in downtown Austin surrounded by men and women in dark suits, all wearing serious, stony expressions. Fischer and Cohen were among them.

  "Parasuckmydick is here," said Fischer. Cohen thumped the back of his head. Hard. "Hey!" He scowled, looking over at Leira. "Where's your official PDA jacket?" He sneered still wincing. Cohen thumped him again. He looked ready for a fight.

  "Next time it's with something harder than my hand." Cohen glared at him, resting his hand on his holster.

  "Public display of asshole," muttered Fischer under his breath. Cohen glanced over at him, scowling.

  "It's in the trunk," said Leira. "This isn't official business. I'm here as a courtesy. It didn't come through the right channels." No General, no case. That's what he told me.

  "We appreciate the courtesy, you know that, right?" asked Cohen, trying a small, friendly smile. It was too late. "Who's your friend?"

  "You don't have the clearance for me to tell you."

  Fischer looked around Leira at Correk who let his eyes glow momentarily, keeping his chin down so only Fischer could see him. He patted his chest with his fist and made a series of small hand gestures, nodding at Fischer.

  "What the fuck was that about?" whispered Leira.

  "He's annoying. That was our old Scouts salute."

  "You have Scouts?"

  "We taught you. Be prepared is a longstanding motto of Light Elves."

  "If we could get started?" A man stood in front of them, holding an open file in his hands. "There was a firefight on one of the summits at the Camelback Mountain range. Not the first time that place has had magical activity. But the first time it went beyond the equivalent of fireworks. The fight was between a group of young magical aliens we've had our eye on for quite some time. Bunch of hooligans. And two adult female aliens. Excuse me, one alien, one magical kind of Earthling. They were all fighting over a certain necklace." He looked at Leira but she waited for him to finish. Correk was twitching at her side, every time the man said the word, alien.

  "Okay, so all parties got away and this necklace is still in the wrong hands. It's some kind of magical weapon, as I understand it."

  Correk started to interrupt him but Leira gave him a hard look.

  "It's associated with two incidents in Chicago and is being passed around like a deadly football. We need to get it back."

  He stopped talking, shutting the file and tried to hand it to Leira.

  "Is it in Austin?"

  "Not that we know of."

  "Then not my jurisdiction."

  "You don't get to decide..."

  "I'm the only one who decides," she said, cutting him off. "You have no idea where that necklace is, do you? Who were the two other magical creatures who were
on that summit?"

  "One was an Agent May Sage, a witch who sometimes works with us and the other was someone named Katie Toler. We don't know her affiliation."

  "Then you have it covered." Katie Toler, again. Has to be the Silver Griffins. "If they start to blow up Austin, call me. Better yet, you call the General the next time and clear this with him. You didn't, did you. I thought as much. I don't play outside of my jurisdiction." Not if I can help it, at least.

  Leira left without waiting for a retort. They were just fishing and using her to get them leads they could take as their own. She'd seen it before. Not gonna happen.

  She marched back to the car, clenching her fists, her face tense. She yanked open the door to the Mustang and slid in, pounding the steering wheel.

  Correk slid into the passenger side. "You handled that brilliantly. The Silver Griffins must be involved. They're better equipped to deal with it."

  "If they are, how did they lose the damn thing from their own secure vault?"

  "A very good question. Worth finding out the answer. There has to be one out there.”

  Leira shook her head in anger. "They saw us as a couple of freaks."

  "Not everyone. Cohen certainly didn't."

  Leira looked up. "You have a point. He risked his life to try and save me even when he didn't know what the hell was going on. That's pretty damn brave. There's another player on the board it looks like. May Sage. Have to hope she's not some magical bitch with a chip on her shoulder."

  "Always the chance she could be an ally."

  "Who has turned out to be a real ally for us, so far? Beyond my bowling team and a tiny bar owner?"

  "That's not a bad start. The Silver Griffins are on our side, believe it or not. I know all about them. There's a similar order on Oriceran. The prophets put them together to help with the transition when the gates start to open again."

  "We need to find that necklace."

  "When we have a lead, we'll follow it. Wherever it takes us."

  "Do you know anyone in the Silver Griffins on this side?"

  "No, I don't, but Toni does. Remember? She mentioned a cousin that night at the Jackalope. We'll ask her. For now, we can go back to the house before your mother gets up and finds herself on a softball team."

  "The Ice Cold Pitchers." Leira rolled her eyes. "They always try to make me catcher. I hate catcher." She let out a deep sigh. "Okay, I'll stand down."

  "Good, then I have a question for you. Change of subject. Your mother wanted me to broach the subject."

  "My mother. My mother asked you to speak for her."

  Correk was too busy pulling a brochure out of the inside of his tunic.

  "How many little pockets are in there? Is that magical or just great seamstresses?"

  "Focus, Berens. This may even help you with finding a member of the Silver Griffins."

  "Okay, now I'm listening. What have you got there?" She took the brochure from him. "Comicon. Of course you want to go to Comicon. Where did you get this?"

  "Someone gave it to me when I was on South Congress with your mother. They thought we'd be interested. Don't make the joke. It's too obvious. You're better than that. I already said I'd try the jeans."

  Leira looked at Correk and realized this was the most excited she'd seen him since he got shoved into her car. "Fine, we'll go. Although this is human beings dressed up as magical people. Super powers. I suppose that's kind of the same thing."

  "You couldn't be more wrong. We know of these annual celebrations on Oriceran. It's a chance for the magical community cut off from Oriceran to be themselves out in public without raising suspicion."

  "Kind of a fly your freak flag but in a crowd kind of thing."

  "Half the time I swear you're not really speaking English."

  "Don't poke me. I said we'll go. Buckle your seat belt."

  "For the record, your mother did ask me to speak to you about it."

  "Uh huh, and trolls fly. They don't, do they?"

  Chapter Eight

  Leira sat in Hagan's backyard at his old picnic table, the troll crawling through the flowers. They were still in perpetual bloom. There was a familiar pink box on the table between them.

  "I'm surprised your little friend isn't over here gnawing his way through the cardboard." Hagan peeked inside the box, pulling out a cruller.

  "I stuffed him full of them on the way over. Believe it or not, he can get full. Besides, I think he's missed being outdoors. Trolls live outdoors on Oriceran, and your garden has a magic spell on it. It must feel a little like home to him.

  "How's your mom doing?"

  "Weirdly fine as far as I can tell. It's only been a couple of days but she's calm, resolute. Ready to figure out how to save my grandmother."

  "Sounds like you. Wait, what? Save your grandmother?" Hagan took another bite of his doughnut, chewing and talking. "She's alive? You found her? Way to bury the lead, Berens!"

  "Ah, gah, some things never change. Chew, swallow, talk. In that order. We kind of found her in a way that only makes sense Oricerans’ are involved."

  "What is she on the other world? That's a twist in the plot."

  "Not exactly. Turns out there's a third option."

  Hagan stood up suddenly, banging his legs on the table. The troll looked up from the flowers, yellow pollen smeared across the front of his face. "Motherfucker?"

  "What are you like at home, Berens? That little recording device hasn't said anything that isn't blue." Hagan sat back down again. "Son of a bitch, I got glaze on my pants. I'll have to volunteer to do the laundry again so Rose doesn't see it. Third time this week!"

  "I think Rose is on to you and has figured out a way to get you to help around the house."

  A tiny "Son of a bitch" trilled out from underneath the pansies. Leira watched him roll on his back, doing dirt angels in the mulch.

  "Thanks for that. He says whatever people say with gusto. I guess we're not the kind to yell sweet nothings."

  "I like that about us. So, tell me. Where's your grandmother? What's this fucking third option?"

  "Correk calls it the world in between. It's a kind of waystation, a netherworld. Not really here or there."

  Hagan put his head in his hands. "Fuck me, that sounds godawful." He looked up. "What is in that kind of a place?"

  "Nothing but beings. Can't even say just people." She shuddered even in the warm light pouring into the backyard thinking of the dark mass that had tried to pull her into the void. "It seems to suck in magical creatures of every kind. The living and the dead."

  Hagan's eyes grew and his jaw dropped open. "So, is your grandmother living or dead?" Always like Hagan to get to the point. Leira relaxed. She liked it better when someone was direct with her. "I can't explain it but I can tell she's alive. It's like I can feel the energy and there's a difference."

  "Well, when do we get her out?" Hagan clapped his hands together. "Come on, a weathered old human being is bound to be some help. I'm on board. All hands on deck."

  Leira gave him her best dead fish look.

  "You don't know how much I've missed that look. The mook they've saddled me with for a partner is so damn earnest. I tell him convoluted tall tales just to see how long it'll take him to catch on. I finally resorted to telling one in an English accent to clue him in and he still said nothing. I don't know, Berens."

  "No one knows of anyone ever getting out. The living or the dead."

  "Well, that's not gonna stop you! Have you sent in the troll?" He looked over his shoulder. "Hey, no eating the damn flowers!"

  "Damn flowers," cooed the troll, gently holding the head of a yellow and purple pansy. He nibbled on the edges of the pansy, leaving most of it intact.

  "You think Rose will notice?"

  "Yes, but this time she can't blame you. I'm not sure what she'll blame but it won't be you."

  "What's the game plan, Berens. You always have one." Hagan went back in the box, lifting the pink lid. The troll peeked out from under the flow
er resting on his head, looking up at the familiar box, trilling. Hagan pulled out an old dirty bastard covered in peanut butter, chocolate and crumbled Oreo cookies. "You introduced Correk to these things yet? He'd love them. Who wouldn't?"

  The troll scampered across the lawn, carefully picking his way underneath the table, crawling up to the bench, keeping an eye on Hagan. He was doing his best to go unnoticed. He sat back in the shadows where the bench connected to the table, and waited, pressing his lips together. His eyes followed the doughnut in Hagan's hand.

  "No, I've caused enough harm in that area already. My game plan is to figure out how to get a Gnome on Oriceran to cough up information. Apparently, they may literally hold the key but I'm going to have to ask a talking rat to help me."

  Hagan stopped mid-bite, putting down the doughnut on a napkin. The troll watched through the cracks in the table as the doughnut was lowered onto the small white square of paper.

  "Excuse you?" asked Hagan. "Fucking rats can talk? That won't give me nightmares. Like that movie, Ben, but worse. Oh geez."

  The troll saw an opening and leapt for the edge of the table, digging in with his claws and throwing a leg over, rolling like a log till he was pressed up against the doughnut. He rolled his body against the chocolate, smearing it into his fur, until he was face first with the doughnut. He opened his mouth wide and bit down, wrapping his arms around a section of the deep-fried confection.

  "Yum fuck," he said, his mouth full of doughnut.

  "What the fuck?" Hagan grabbed the doughnut, lifting Yumfuck into the air with it. The troll quickly wrapped his legs around a piece of the doughnut, burying his face, the chocolate going up his nose. Hagan sputtered, "Son of a bitch," giving the old dirty bastard a series of fast little shakes like he was testing a thermometer. The troll hung in there.

  "You really still want that one?" asked Leira, trying not to laugh.

  "It's the principle of the thing!"

  With every shake Yumfuck took another bite of the doughnut, swallowing as fast as he could, tunneling his way to the center, finally losing anything to hold onto with his arms till he was hanging upside down, his face covered in a mixture of pollen and chocolate.