The Leira Chronicles- The Complete Austin Series

by Martha Carr

  “What happens in a mile?”

  “We go inside the mountain. Different set of problems. We’ll deal with that when we get there.” Thank God I have the sword.

  Chapter Twenty

  Blake Johnson heard the sound of a bird tweet telling him he got a text on his phone. He flipped it over on his lap as he drove, trying to watch traffic while keeping an eye on the street, hunting for a tiny hairy mythical beast no one else believed in. It was really wearing away at his nerves. The picture on his phone caught his eye immediately. The troll was lying back among red and white pansies next to a garden gnome.

  “What are the odds?” A flood of relief ran through Blake as he turned the car around, squealing his tires as other cars honked in frustration. He chattered away to himself as he drove, calming his nerves as he convinced himself everything was actually going to work out for him. Just this once.

  “He’s at the goddamn garden show! I can get the story done and get the best story of my life. Aliens are real… magic is real… The invasion has started!” He yelled out his car window, startling people on the street as they turned to see if the driver was crazy, rolling their eyes at the sight of a disheveled Blake. His hands shook as he steered the car, careening down Lamar Boulevard, peering over the dashboard.

  He was straining at the seatbelt, yelling at the cars in front of him, waving his hands in frustration. An older woman in the SUV in front of him gave him a very slow and polite middle finger while smiling in her rear-view mirror. She lowered her sunglasses a moment to give him a wink before rolling forward an inch. He honked again as she slowly raised her hand again and danced her manicured finger around like it was a puppet.

  “Nice! You talk to your kids that way?” He threw up his hands and slapped his thighs for good measure. “It’s too late. No way he’s still there.” He looked over to the side of the road and considered leaving his car and jogging the couple of miles left to get to the Palmer Center where the Garden Show was being held. He looked down at his hard-soled shoes with the inserts. “Thanks Mom. Your poor arches and a complete set of a 1955 Encyclopedia Britannica. Hawaii wasn’t even a fucking state yet. No wonder I’m a journalist covering a garden show!”

  The light ahead finally turned green and Blake inched forward till he could edge out a small truck, turning to wave to the other driver who eagerly waved him ahead just to get him out of the way. His phone let out another sharp tweet and he looked down, gasping at the sight of the troll mugging for the camera in a fountain, spitting water out of his mouth with one leg lifted behind him. The text underneath read, See you soon, with a smiley face emoticon.

  Blake looked up in time to see the traffic stopped directly in front of him and slammed on the brakes, jarring himself against the shoulder strap and hitting his car horn with a loud, sharp blast. “Fuck! He’s playing chicken with me! Okay… okay…” Blake drummed his fingers on the wheel, quickly moving in and out of lanes till he could turn on Riverside Drive and gun the engine, headed for the large open parking lot.

  He parked the car in the first open spot he saw, not wanting to take the chance on circling and ending up right back there. More precious time lost. He took off running, getting winded after a few car lengths and slowing down to a fast walk, swinging his arms in the hope that would propel him faster. His phone tweeted again and he stopped, winded to take a look. It was a message from his editor. Need the inches double-time.

  Blake typed furiously with his thumbs, letting autocorrect take over, texting, On the harp for a big storefront. At Garden Show. Will send stork soon. “Damn, good enough. Says Garden Show.” He slid his phone back in his pocket and started walking again, picking up the pace, swinging his arms as the phone tweeted again. He took it out, the phone bobbing in his hand as he walked, and tried to keep his eye on where he was going.

  It was the troll. A giggle escaped him as he looked at the picture for clues. “Please be in the Garden Show still. Yes!”

  The troll was in another stone fountain, this time doing the backstroke with one arm while holding the phone out in front of himself with the other. The text read, Come on in, the water’s fine!

  He held the phone out in front of him yelling, “Aha!” as he banged into the oversized fender of a large Chevy truck and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to pass, leaning on the truck.

  “Don’t be touchin’ my truck.” A deep baritone voice coming from an oversized cowboy in boots and a hat holding a large potted purple orchid.

  “What?” Blake looked up into the sun at the shadow of the cowboy hat and the muscular arms and quickly peeled himself off the hood. “Sorry…” he mumbled, as he ran by the man, making sure he didn’t brush against him. He finally got to the door and fumbled in his pocket for his press pass, flinging the lavalier around his neck and waving it at the ticket taker inside the cavernous room.

  “Bad day?” asked the gray-haired man, looking up and down at Blake’s sweaty appearance, his bangs sticking to his forehead.

  “I’ve had better. Can you tell me where the fountains are?”

  “Gonna do an article on fountains? Well, that depends…” The man sat down on the wooden stool behind him, rubbing his scruffy beard as he thought about where to send Blake. Tucked in the back pocket of his baggy khaki pants was an old wand made from willow that to the casual observer looked like a worn stick. “There’s the commercial fountains. That’s a show! Or the ones that have lights and take up a little piece of land. Might make a good article.”

  Blake pulled out his phone and held up the picture of the troll. “Like this!”

  “Oh, the do it yourself displays. I kind of recognize the fountain but never seen that particular floating rodent before. That’s kind of new. I suppose it takes all kinds, huh? Follow the banners overhead to aisle 800. Those fountains are over in the far western corner to your left along the yellow brick road. Not an actual brick road, mind you…”

  Blake was already striding into the show, hearing the bits of a story the old man was determined to tell even though Blake was already gone. The old man gave a chuckle and a thumbs up to Toni standing nearby. “Always glad to get pulled into a mission every now and then. Can make an old Wizard feel young again.” He let out a snort and got up from his post, strolling into the show to his next assigned post. “Feel a little like Dean Martin,” he said as he pulled out a small black comb and brushed back his thinning gray hair into perfect straight lines.

  Blake was long gone from the entrance, hurrying toward the fountains as he glanced up at the tall banners hanging overhead. The excitement of finally getting a good story distracted him from the Witches and Wizards keeping careful track of him as he hurried toward the fountains.

  He punched the camera icon on his phone, ready to video the troll. This truth is gonna set me free. Everyone will finally treat me with the respect I deserve. No more stupid assignments to cover school meetings and garden shows… The litany of complaints ran through his head as they did most days but this time with a feeling that he might just be about to get his.

  “Okay, he’s here.” Toni said into her phone. She smiled at Blake as he passed her. Her wrist jangled with silver bracelets catching his attention but he barely gave her a glance as he hurried inside.

  “Yes, Jack he saw me but he doesn’t actually know who I am.” Toni’s large, fluffy afro bobbed with her head as she talked to the Jackalope owner. “We’re good. Man your station. Operation Troll is a go. I know, I named it. I like saying it. Over and out.” Toni moved to her next station over by the succulents and waited for word from Mara. “This is what family does for each other,” she said to no one in particular, smiling as she gave a wave to Eric across two aisles. He moved into place behind the outdoor sheds carrying a brown paper bag and made a point of looking at the sturdy patio furniture, testing out the rocker. “Not bad…”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Yumfuck was enjoying a theme of sorts and was thinking about posing with the gargoyle fountain next w
hile he waited for the reporter. He was in the last display of the Do It Yourself section that featured four scenarios of outdoor living that homeowners could attempt to do themselves. A middle-aged woman with streaks of purple in her hair stopped to watch the troll do a cannon ball off the edge of a fountain with a small spray of water. “A swimming rat. I love Austin. Even the rodents are digging the place. Rock on tiny dude.” The woman held up two fingers giving Yumfuck the peace sign.

  “Rock on motherfuckers!” chirped the troll, holding up his paw and matching the symbol with two small claws.

  The woman let out a laugh as she walked away. “I have never felt so optimistic about this goddamned planet.”

  The troll waved and spit a thin stream of water doing the doggie paddle back to the edge. He pulled himself out and shook all over, spraying the water. “Time to go,” he chirped.

  He knew time was running short before Blake Johnson would come barreling into the displays.

  The plan was already in motion.

  The troll scrambled to the next section, one aisle over to the stylish outdoor bars, while still holding on to his phone. He scrambled up the side of a grass tiki hut and waited, perched on the top above the crowd where he had a panoramic view of most of the show. He waved to Jim, another regular from the Jackalope who picked up the end of a fishing line and gently tugged on the line to make sure it was still secure.

  “All set!”

  The troll let out a cackle and waved at a tired child in his mother’s arms, his head on her shoulder. The child perked up and pointed a small finger at the troll, his mouth forming a perfect o in surprise. The troll waved and gave a wink, holding his finger to his lips. The child waved excitedly, jiggling against his mother.

  “What is it? Why are you so excited? Did your dad give you his soda?” The mother did her best to hold on to her son, looking around to see what had caught his attention. The child covered his mouth with both hands, taking side glances at the troll, his eyes wide. “Mickey is real,” he finally said, covering his mouth with his hands in excitement.

  “That was just a dream, sweetie. Go back to sleep.” The mother patted her son’s soft head, relieved it was nothing more.

  The troll gave a last wave and an okay sign as Blake came running up to the nearby exhibitions, skidding to a stop and turning in a tight circle, looking down at the ground and in all the fountains. Yumfuck watched his frustration grow as he took another selfie, sending Blake a tweet. He watched as Blake looked at his phone and spun around, spotting the troll and holding up his phone, barely able to take a breath. He looked as if he had forgotten how to breathe and was in danger of passing out.

  The troll stood up on the top to give Blake a better view as he clicked away, waving at him to come closer.

  Just as everyone was starting to look in the same direction Jim gave a sharp tug on the line catching Blake around the ankles and sending him flying into a nearby kiddie pool. He slid across the top, landing in the middle with a splash, his phone still in the air. Two teenage girls giggled and took a selfie with Blake as the background. Jim quickly rolled up the transparent line on his hand and slid it all into his pocket, walking away as the crowd around Blake built to two rows.

  Yumfuck slid down the side of the grass hut and landed neatly on the ground as Blake quickly pulled himself out of the pool, ignoring the two guards who were coming over to see who was playing in the displays. The troll was already off and running in a zigzag pattern as a dripping Blake followed in pursuit, weaving in and out of different backyards, hopping across flagstones as if he were playing a heated game of hopscotch.

  The troll tucked and rolled near a display of tall grasses and lost Blake long enough to crawl among a collection of lawn ornaments. He ran between a flock of pink flamingos and slid cleanly into place among several smiling monsters made of grey steel, their mouths wide open and thin grey arms outstretched. As Blake ran by the troll opened his mouth in a grimace holding still and waited till Blake was almost out of earshot before calling out, “See ya sucker! Aloha!”

  “Huh?” Blake turned so fast his wet shoes flew out from under him and he did a high-stepping dance for a few feet till he could right himself. By now, the crowd had grown even bigger to watch the man playing in the exhibits.

  A tall man with a round middle wearing a colorful blue Round Rock Express baseball sweatshirt nudged his wife, digging his elbow into her side. “That’s the most entertaining thing I’ve seen since we got here.” His wife rolled her eyes and stepped just far enough away so he’d stop his poking. “Garden shows are not supposed to be interactive. Obviously the man has lost his marbles.”

  “Probably while waiting for his wife.”

  Behind the crowd Mara, wearing a floppy hat pulled down over her ears and large sunglasses moved quickly down the aisle, closely following the path of the troll. She pulled down her sunglasses and gave the troll a wink as he ran right over her shoe on the way to the backyard sheds. Blake came chugging by seconds later sputtering about a furry alien as Mara stepped back to give him room.

  “Oh my, are you okay?” she said loudly, looking around at the crowd who were half amused and half standing back just in case. A row of phones were held up in the air as onlookers filmed the whole thing. “Perfect,” whispered Mara. “Part one is a success. Okay Yumfuck, part two is up to you and Eric.”

  The troll had escaped to an aluminum shed sliding in through a small opening near the bottom. He took his time crawling in, shaking his rear end as much as he could, keeping an eye out for the sounds of Blake Johnson tripping over furniture trying to get to the troll. Blake had the presence of mind to film the small dancing furry butt just as it disappeared into the shed.

  “At last! You’ve finally made a mistake!” Blake ran into the shed, slamming the door behind him as he came face to face with Yumfuck Tiberius Troll.

  Eric saw the door shut and fumbled with the brown bag in his hands, letting it slide out of his hands as marbles rolled out across the floor blocking everyone’s path. “Well a good goddamn,” sputtered Eric, looking to all the world as if he was frustrated at himself. He got down on his hands and knees and started scooping marbles toward the bag but only managed to spread them out further sending them rolling in every direction. The two guards who had been following Blake came as close as they could but stopped at the edge of the spill.

  The tall man walked back by with a look of surprise as his wife said, “Look at that Gene! He really did lose his marbles.”

  “Thirty-five years with you and still a surprise every day.”

  The guards tried to take a step forward as the marbles hit their shoes and they’d take a step back. “You need to clean this up,” one of them said sternly, his hands on his hips to let everyone know he meant what he said even if he wasn’t moving.

  “Maybe a broom would help.” Eric was doing his best to sound helpful. “Got ‘em for my indoor plants. Weren’t cheap, you know. Need to get them all back in the bag or the wife will have a fit.” With every sweep of his arm the rolling marbles let out a loud clacking sound, drowning out most of what was coming from the shed.

  Toni took her cue and took a look around to make sure everyone was watching the marble spill as she gave a small wave to her wand and whispered, “Louder please.” Barry Manilow’s voice crooning Copacabana poured out of every speaker in the ceiling further covering any other sound.

  Inside the dim light of the shed Blake feverishly held up his camera, licking his dry lips as he collected himself quickly, drying his hands on the front of his pants. At the last moment he realized he was soaking wet from head to toe and gave out a giggle. “All worth it… This is Blake Johnson, reporting on the sighting of an alien or tiny Bigfoot…”

  “Or small Cheetos…” cackled the troll as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out an orange fart that slowly rose toward the ceiling.

  Blake tried to move his phone around to capture the cloud. “… that has been sighted all over Austin, Texas. Oh man, wh
at is that smell?” He tried breathing through his mouth as he kept talking, his words spilling out. He held the phone as close to his mouth again to be sure he could be heard over the loud music playing outside of the shed. “I’ve tracked him to the Home and Garden Show at the Palmer Center and have successfully trapped… Yaaaaaa!”

  Blake let out a high-pitched squeal as the troll cackled again and grew till he was towering over Blake, hitting the tin roof with a thud. He stood over Blake, hunched against the roof, his hot breath pouring into the reporter’s face as he smiled wide. His once tiny sharp teeth were now the only thing Blake could focus on as his phone pressed up against the soft, wiry hair of the troll.

  “Homina, homina, homina, homina…” Blake babbled loudly trying to find the words to yell for help. “Don’t eat me, please.” It was all he could think to say.

  The troll snorted and shrunk back down to the size of a small child, gently taking Blake by the hand as he whispered to him, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re not a half bad reporter but you could work on being a better human being. Good stories are going to come your way but ask yourself first if every one of them needs to be written and always do your best to err on the side of doing no harm.” Yumfuck patted his hand. “You might even manage to do a little good. Now, fair warning, no one is going to believe you on this one. Not yet, anyway. Let it go or live with the consequences.”

  Blake shook his head hard. “You’re talking to me. Wait! Wait!” He pulled his hand away from the tiny troll. “It’s the truth. I have to tell the public. It wouldn’t be right to hide it. Shit, I’m arguing with an alien. Is my phone still recording. Sweet! It is!”

  “Not always about right or wrong. Nature doesn’t know right or wrong, only consequences. I have to be going but remember what I said. Look for where you can add to the common good. That’ll never steer you wrong.” The troll ran to the same hole he had used to get in the shed and shook his furry hind parts at Blake while looking over his shoulder and throwing him a raspberry. At the last moment he threw back his head and let out one last cackle. Yumfuck slid through the opening making sure to stay close to the nearby potted plants, shimmying along a wall. He got to the end of the wall and heard a familiar voice.