by Kezzy Sparks
I have more than I need to show. I bring out his snoozer wand and the door opener. “You see these,” I say. “Would you need more?”
Everyone in here knows what a snoozer does. If waved or shaken in a room it causes those inside to doze off. And any who are already asleep will sleep even more deeply. A magical door opener needs no introduction. His is a copper rod with a knobby front end, but the handle is polished blackwood. It’s a pretty merciless tool with both mechanical and electronic locks.
“Devlyn, do you deny that those are your devices?”
He nods to say he accepts.
That is very good for me. There is no way he can wriggle out of this. After it, there is just a brief consultation, and then the scrutineers come back with a judgement.
“Pendle upheld without variation,” they say. “The decision was unanimous.”
Everyone who matters comes to hug me. I’m so happy. Ivey must be told of this.
Thirty-three
Next day, Friday, I go to the office a little later than usual. It’s already eleven thirty by the time I open the door.
Outside has been windy, breezes blowing in from Lake Erie. The skies have been getting cloudier, and the weather may end up bad, but there is something to celebrate: that little victory of mine over Devlyn. Today Ivey needs to have a good sleep knowing justice has been served. In fact I soon will transmit that happy news to her. Last night I couldn’t; it was too late.
That victory in many ways justifies our existence, but sadly it doesn’t mean evil magic is dying. On the contrary it thrives. Yesterday, and earlier this morning, too, I was watching the TV, and strange news has been coming in. Some unknown entity has been mauling a farmer’s cattle. It isn’t something that has ever happened in Buffalo, and so nobody has any real clue what’s happening yet. We will see how things go, and I will keep an eye on it.
Returning, however, to the day’s most important case, I woke up this morning to charge the dropper although I haven’t done any locate yet. The Lady in Red has been on the move a lot lately, and I figured switching to a midnight locate might change my fortunes. Suspects who don’t stay in one place for long are hard to nail, but someone has got to sleep—right—which means a late night locate will maximize the chances.
And regarding the same case, Casey tells me he is set to go for his bachelor party this evening. “We did the last big rehearsal last night,” he said.
That brings me a lot of pressure—Sunday is what, only two days away. Who wants such a tight deadline? Not me, if you ask; yet I can’t go back on this now.
Talking of the bachelor’s, honestly I wish he had done it a week or so ago before he got attacked. Then, he would have enjoyed it. Seriously every bridegroom-to-be out there needs to savor that sole seminal experience. That party is now going to be an empty show for him if I don’t deliver. How bad; I wish we could get a result fast.
For this moment, though, let me just finish with Ivey. I reach out for the receiver of the vintage red phone and then work the rotary dial. The dialer makes crackling noises as it spins back to position after each digit selection.
“I got great news,” I say.
“Good to hear from you, Mel?” Her voice is cheerful.
“Devlyn is convicted and is already serving punishment.”
“Wow, you’re so great. I never thought anyone could punish a thing like that.”
“Believe me, we can. That’s why we are here.”
“You guys do a wonderful job. Where would I be without you?”
“Thanks for the nice words.” It really warms the heart to hear a client say that.
“And why don’t we celebrate, Mel? Let’s arrange for a drink.”
Although I don’t usually accept such invitations out, it’s not against guild rules to do so. Maybe this one I will take.
“Let me check my schedule and I’ll come back to you,” I say.
Nothing is on; we will make it a late lunch.
One question Ivey might ask—and many I help often do—is what happens if Devlyn reports to the Buffalo Police that he was tried in a Witch Court against all known regulations to the contrary. The simple answer is we say such a thing never happened! And if he tells them we have put a punishing curse on him; we will say no, we never did any such thing. In fact, we will turn around and say he is falsely accusing us of placing curses, and it will be him to go to jail for tarnishing names and making unproven accusations. Things always work nicely for us in such circumstances, because in addition to secretly ordering a more severe punishment, we can hide under the same blind laws that say magic doesn’t exist.
It’s a smart way of doing things, and I greatly thank those who pioneered it.
The meetup is for the afternoon, so for now I turn again to watch the fascinating if not horrifying reports coming over the little office TV. The same farmer I saw yesterday, and again this morning, is featured once more. Lying next to him are two dead cows, the camera angle being such as to prevent over-displaying the gory wounds the mysterious fiend opened. The farmer is distraught; I feel sorry for him. What’s going on in our little corner of the world?
When it’s time, I then go out to the restaurant we agreed on with Ivey. It’s on William—not far to walk from my office, but I still drive because I want to do a dream reveal in the car later on. No other time beats the hour or so after lunch, should you want to nap.
Ivey has already driven over, and we meet. She is a slightly heavy set woman with a big bust and red hair. She has changed little from the last I saw her, only that there is more happiness on her face than I ever glimpsed. We order drinks first; I will have a glass of Merlot just for her sake.
“Where is Joe?” I ask of her husband.
“He just left this morning.”
“I guess he will be pleased to hear of the verdict.”
“Yes, he will, just as I am.”
Since she doesn’t ask what the sentence is, I say, “Two years of extreme arm pain, to the point of being unable to use.”
“Jesus, that is so appropriate,” she says, but then she appears to have something to point out. “But, Mel, what if he goes to the hospital?”
“That will never work,” I answer. “No doctor or clinic anywhere will be able to reverse what we have ordered, until the Pendle period is over.”
“Fantastic, then,” she smiles.
“Yes, that’s the law.” I slam a fist on the table as though I was a judge declaring a hearing is over. “He can’t run away from it.”
And indeed he can’t. That is how justice works.
Thirty-four
Casey’s Friday starts by being a little celebratory. Shauna takes them to a great breakfasting place that has an all-you-can-eat promotion going—quite unusual for joints to offer such a deal one day before the weekend. “You guys enjoy. Tab is on me,” she says.
After slugging down sausages, eggs, bacon, and ham, together with the usual baked, toasted, blended, squeezed or brewed accompaniments, they come back home to face the day and its tasks. He and Gus must drive out to finish the things that go with preparing for a big event. Shauna has an appointment with a hairstylist.
In time, and quite obligatorily, he sees Megan. He kisses her and then surprises her with an early bouquet of roses. All to stop her wondering why he isn’t letting her spend a night with him. Just one great one before the honeymoon. “Thank you so much, hon,” she says regardless.
The hours do go by fast and with the inevitable plunge of the sun out of the skies, a thing Casey can’t altogether avoid but would have wanted to is looming: the bachelor’s party. The prospect of it shakes him intensely.
Wish I could just cancel it all, he whispers.
Seriously, he has considered that, but he knows it would make Megan furious, even more so than she was after he bunked that mini rehearsal Tuesday. Not that he can’t handle the party. It’s just the meaning of it that troubles him, the ultimate thing his friends and acquaintances are devoting so much of their
resources to, knowing what things are now like. Honest to God, how do you tell people to quit?
Owing to the Monday night debacle, he is sworn off beer for a long time, but yesterday his brother-in-law made him change that. Gus rammed into him the importance of drinking some, so to ease the tension. Casey couldn’t tell him what his problems were, and so Gus kept insisting. He eventually did accept a couple and they tasted sweet, though the deep hurts wouldn’t go. If anything, he felt worse afterward and he wonders if the same thing won’t happen tonight.
Jeff, his bestie, is heading this whole thing, and providing the venue, too. He lives in with his girlfriend, Kyra, on East Ferry Street, and that’s where everything is set to happen. Casey and he used to do the club thing together, and going by their practices things are sure to turn wild, what with the ominous fact that Kyra is invited to Megan's bridal shower, so she won’t be home to keep a lid on things.
“You are going to love it.” Gus speaks of the party. As if he ever had one thrown for him.
They sit in the Impala, which is parked on the driveway. Gus is talking endlessly while chewing some gum. He has already taken at least two shots of whiskey, in preparation. Way too early for a gig that will rock on till the wee hours of morning.
“I’m sure I will,” says Casey.
“Come on, man, it’s your party.” Gus glares at him with tipsy eyes.
“You got it, bro.”
Husband and wife's Dodge Caravan is already gone, driven by Shauna. She left earlier because she has been drafted into Megan’s bachelorette’s team of organizers. The girls are going to a condo party room. They say it’s going to be a blast but without anything too offensive or indecent.
As they leave, Casey presses onto his accelerator with some determination, though the idea he is wasting everyone’s time won’t leave him. It’s scary to imagine, because the moment is almost here. Tonight there is going to be a lot of drinks and music, and that’s one sign to say things aren’t turning back. And tomorrow he and his whole groom team are booked into the Adam’s Mark Hotel, which they will use as a launch pad. Then after that, it will be the big Sunday…
They wind up Dick. The clouds that started to build up this morning have thickened. Genesee is busy but not totally blocked like it would be on Friday evenings, and to Casey that’s a curse—because he wants to jump on anything that would force them to cancel, but then there isn’t.
Their destination, East Ferry Street, is close to downtown, a little up north. Jeff is already out waiting for them.
“I got some parking for you,” he says and waves.
What he has previously done is to park his Lexus on a spot in the visitors bay. Now he creates space for Casey by moving the Lexus out and then down toward the basement. Casey takes the visitor slot. Jeff is a great friend; he doesn’t want Casey inconvenienced in any way.
Inside the apartment, guys swarm at him. A number of college and work buddies are here. The college guys wouldn’t know a thing about what’s eating him, but as for the work crew he can’t be sure. Tina was the first person he told of his problems. Has she made the big mistake of just hinting to someone? News sure does spread in offices. He sincerely hopes she hasn’t, but he will look at things to see.
Tim, Miles, and Greg are the guys from the office.
“Big Congratulations.” Tim gives him a hug.
“This is a milestone.”
“You’re leaving us in the dust as singles, man.”
“How does it even feel to be in this?”
It feels terrible, he would like to confess, because honestly that’s how it does. “I am good,” he says and conjures a smile.
The whiskeys are popped open, and so are the wines. A big green bottle of champagne sits at the table, chilled. The room is filled with the exotic smell of fine liquors. Something is grilling in the oven.
Ominously, Jeff takes a call, and then there is a knock. Making a big hurray, he darts to the door.
“The girls are here.” He ushers them in with some choreographed hand gestures. “Keep your eyes closed, Casey.”
“There’s our main man.” Jeff indicates.
The girls peek.
Casey’s heart leaps. This is one of the moments he is uneasy about. Due again to that little misdemeanor of Monday night, he is sworn off anything with teats and a big sweet butt that isn’t Megan. It’s that letting go of guard that caused him to become entangled with the Lady in Red, and now he is in this mess.
The women are young and pretty and in good makeup. They introduce themselves before they take seats. The prettiest of them, who calls herself Tess, comes to sit beside him and begins to touch. She smells lovely, and her teeth are white. The groping feels great, but it’s clear the girl isn’t ending there.
Gus is gawking at him and laughing himself almost to the point of choking.
“Don’t be shy,” says Tess.
So his squeamishness is clear for all to see. He wants to play this thing right, but how can he?
One of the girls, Amanda it must be, starts to undress. She has small breasts for a stripper, but her toned complexion is bewitching. Casey feels nothing underneath his pants.
After Amanda, Tess does the same. Then she plops her bare ass right into his lap. Prior to his being neutered, he would have gone so hard now he’d be close to spoiling himself. She grinds him a little, her butt pressing firmly against the fabric of his Calvin Klein jeans.
Tess somehow senses he is not getting excited and gives him a come-on look. The music is blaring. Tim busies himself with Amanda. And so does his ex-college mate Ryan with another. Tess reaches for his belt to undo the clasp. She will unzip him for sure if he doesn’t send her away. And now someone has thrown condoms into the air.
“My wife will be in soon,” he says confusedly.
“What?” Tess stutters. Her hand falls from his belt.
“There, is my brother in law watching, too,” Casey adds. “It’s embarrassing.”
“No problem. No problem.” Gus is going wild. “Go on girl, give him what you got.”
The incident is brief, but it makes him ask questions. What, really, is a bachelor? And what’s a bridegroom? Tess is still fighting to give him erection. He gets her disappointment, but now he sees more of Megan in her. In a little over forty-eight hours, it will be his bride in this exact position. Digging into his pants, and getting the shock of her life...
Thirty-five
It’s now ten p.m. With Ivey, we finished having that celebratory lunch long ago, and I now sit in the office. The dropper is charged, but like I said earlier, today I will do the locate around midnight. My hope is that the Lady in Red is now confident enough to stay home and sleep there. This then gives me the ability to locate her residence and raid it. Trust me, arresting a black-magic suspect at home is easier because you can do it without worrying about government bans on witch hunting.
An hour ago I did that dream reveal thing. Usually I have been doing it during daytime, but today I changed to night, too. The reason I previously have been so wary of night reveals is because it’s the most likely time anyone possessing Casey’s goods might abuse them. I wouldn’t want to see the action going on around that, the nudity and all. Tonight, though, I took the risk, and the result, far from the embarrassing and borderline voyeuristic I’d feared, was actually non salacious.
The chocolate-brown case hasn’t changed—but out of it, I saw the inners of a car trunk. The trunk top is painted white while the sides are black vinyl. The floor is a soft gray mat. It was warm inside, suggesting the car is parked in a garage rather than the outside. It’s almost summer, and garages heat up and remain balmy until well into the night.
“What is this thing now?” I tried to figure.
The reveal, honestly, is quite baffling on several levels. Last time the case was in a bedroom, with that young woman being the possessor, but now it’s in a car trunk. Does that mean she is transferring the case to another house, or is she just given to driving a
bout with the case in her car? Either is possible, but it also could be that she has given up possession to someone. This third possibility isn’t to me a good thing at all. I would much prefer if the goods were left in that young woman’s keep—because she looked so non hostile and non abusive.
When it comes to transporting, an additional thing I am so uneasy about is the area of placement itself. Usually when carrying small items by car, a lot can be gleaned from where they are put. If something little is thrown into a trunk, it likely means that item isn’t treasured and may be junked. But on the other hand if it’s placed in the cab, on a backseat or somewhere cuddly, then it’s considered valuable and will be retained. Now Casey’s parts lie in a trunk, and that’s definitely not good.
This reveal truly is disappointing, and even if I had intended to phone my client and tell him, there is now no way I am doing that.
Disillusioned, I grope at anything to cheer me up but, there is none. This case is likely to drag painfully for days or weeks without any resolution.
Black magic is big trouble in this city, and it keeps us busy. Casey’s case might be the most grievous by a margin, but I can already tell there is another ugly thing building. That sad horrifying problem about the unfortunate farmer hasn’t been resolved, and the plot is thickening. The bad news has been running all day.
The station is now conducting an in-depth analysis of the mystery. For my part, though, I have long suspected it’s paranormal, and pretty much affirming my suppositions, Mr. Gillz has been tense all day, which he does whenever there is a terrible incident of black magic going on. He is usually never wrong.
“I am at a loss,” says the farmer, a man who looks to be pushing his fiftieth. His head is balding, and there are wisps of gray in his hair.
Presently, the report switches to a senior police officer who only says they are still investigating and will comment at an appropriate time. And then there comes a serious-faced New York State agricultural official who reveals she has been to the farm and is as baffled as everyone else. On a better note however, she adds, she can at least confirm such an incident hasn’t been reported elsewhere.
