by Harper Lin
Before I could answer that, there was a giant boom, and smoke filled the whole complex. It poured out the window I had raised and billowed out the open end that had been burnt some time ago. The sounds of men rushing in and shots being fired filled the clearing, causing nighttime birds to take flight. Only then did I realize how cold I was, and I began to shake.
Out of the Ordinary
By the time we heard the house had been cleared and the Clares were in custody, I thought I was going to lose my mind.
“Go ahead, honey,” Bea encouraged me. “I’ll take care of him.” She snuggled Enzo to her. He looked as if he was sleeping contentedly in her arms, and I could hear his motor running softly.
My aunt nodded and waved me on. I shambled around the back of the house toward the red and blue lights that were still sweeping across the property. There were several men in SWAT gear with their faces covered. I looked to the squad cars, hoping I’d see that familiar face behind the wheel, on a cell phone call, or going over the situation with another officer.
When the ambulance arrived, my heart pounded, and I watched as two men jumped out of the back, pulling a stretcher to a man lying on the ground.
I didn’t know if I should even go over there. The last time I mixed business with pleasure, it came back to bite me. But I had to know.
“What happened to you?”
The voice I had been waiting to hear startled me.
“Tom?” He was underneath a bulletproof vest, headgear, and a visor and had a rifle in his hands. I fell into his arms and squeezed him tightly. “I was so worried. I heard the gunshots and thought the worst.”
“It was a little hairy there for a while, but we managed to make it out okay.”
“What about the man on the stretcher? Will he be all right?” I jerked my thumb in the direction of the ambulance.
“Diaz? Yes. He got grazed in the leg. But thankfully, it didn’t hit an artery. He’ll have a cool scar to show his grandkids.”
Tom lifted his visor, and before I could say another word, he kissed me. It felt as if it had been a hundred years since he had done that.
“Are you mad at me?” I blubbered.
“I just kissed you with as much passion as I could muster with the rest of the troops milling around. What would make you say that?”
“Because I am here. It’s my fault, and one of your men got shot because you guys were here to…”
Tom slipped his hand underneath my arm and led me away from the crowd of people. He took off his helmet, and his hair was sweaty and curly and stuck to his head in a really sexy and masculine way. Not that I was looking for that—I’m just telling it as it is.
“Your cousin called me. She told me where you were and what happened. Call it coincidence if you want. I’ll call it divine intervention. But my boys were already planning a raid of the Clare property.”
I rubbed my aching shoulder and listened.
“I asked Bea if there was anything ‘out of the ordinary’ I should know about.” He used finger quotes for those four little words. “And she said most definitely. So against my better judgment, I told her to hightail it out here and get gone whatever it was that you needed gone. She said something about Rot Gut or…”
“The Rotmirage. That was the thing that you and I saw.”
“Just when I had finally started sleeping with the lights off again, that horrible memory has to be brought back.” He squeezed me tenderly around the waist. “It was a terrible risk. I knew what kind of people we were dealing with, and I was afraid after I had hung up the phone that I might have just sent your cousin and your sweet aunt to their dooms. Not to mention that when I heard you were stuck here, I was terrified.”
“So I’m not in trouble?” I was almost shocked.
“Not with me, you’re not.”
I know this isn’t the time or place to gush on about it, but Tom’s dimples were so deep and cute when he smiled that I couldn’t resist smiling back. I tried to go up on tiptoes and kiss him again, but the pain in my knee nearly knocked me over.
“You never did tell me. What happened to you?” He held me up with his strong arm.
“I fell through the ceiling,” I whined.
“What?”
“Yeah. The Rotmirage had me cornered in the attic. But I got away. I just fell through the ceiling, is all.”
“That is so cool.”
“A spider crawled on me.”
Tom looked at me and shivered.
“Was it big?” he asked with eyes wide and serious.
“Felt like a tarantula. It crawled on my neck and cheek.”
“My poor baby,” he cooed. “That must have been horrible for you.”
“It was.” I shivered, too.
“I mean, doing battle with interdimensional demons and ruthless drug dealers is a major inconvenience. But a spider on your skin by your face and so close to your hair, well, that’s almost too much for any one person to endure.”
“You understand me so well.”
Tom had another officer take the Clares to the station for booking. But before they were loaded into the squad car, I saw them, sitting with their legs stretched out in front of them to balance while their hands were handcuffed behind them. It was as if I were seeing not them but maybe their twins. They looked the same yet not so much.
Otto Clare was no longer that strong, imposing man that sent fear into the very marrow of my bones. His hair was still there but wispier as the wind pushed it over his scalp. Dark age spots dotted his skin, which was paler now and quite sickly looking as blue and purple veins mapped their way underneath. His clothes had become baggier, as if he had shrunk while wearing them.
Leland Clare was even more transformed. Within the span of seconds, his round, muscular shoulders and broad chest had become edgy, like a Picasso image. Weird angles and strange coloring defined his bones and sinewy muscles, which were defined and defiled by so many horrible tattoos.
The one thing that hadn’t changed was the look behind their eyes. They stared at me. I could see the shadow of something sinister behind their eyes, like a chick tussling around inside an egg that had just a small crack in it. The beast couldn’t get out, but it was using every bit of energy it had to try.
They hated me. I was going to be blamed for this in their rotted-out brains. They wouldn’t forget the name Greenstone, I was sure. But alone, as they were right now, they were finally feeling what it must have been like for all the animals and people that had died on this property. Trapped and scared and hopeless.
I stared back at them. They had no idea what kinds of things I had seen in my life already. The glare of a couple of demon-worshipping drug dealers was hardly enough to make me lose sleep tonight. It crossed my mind to tell them that it was the power of one cat, one that they didn’t kill, that caused their bodyguard to be sent back to where it came from, but I didn’t. The look and smell of decay and rust was already settling over them, and I’d be surprised if they didn’t both end up stark raving mad within the next few days.
The property was roped off with police tape. As the sun started to come up, there were four cadaver dogs searching the property along with helicopters with some fancy capabilities that would indicate if any bodies were buried on the premises.
The weird thing, as if the whole situation wasn’t weird enough, was that the mirage that added a piece of property that wasn’t really there vanished with the Rotmirage. What the police found in its place was a marijuana crop tucked in behind the forest that surrounded it and the dying crops of corn that surrounded the forest.
“That was how they were making so much money,” Tom said two days later when he came into the Brew-Ha-Ha.
“Oh, I saw the bags of money there,” I boasted. “Did you see where I fell through the ceiling?” I nodded but stopped as it hurt my shoulder, which was currently in a sling. My knee also had a brace on it. When I walked down the street, I did an excellent imitation of Boris Karloff as The Mummy.
> “Are you kidding? I told my partner and the police photographer that that was where my girlfriend fell through the ceiling.” He rocked back and forth on his heels. “They were totally amazed and jealous.”
I looked at Bea, whose eyes widened, and a smirk fell across her lips. She had suffered a goose egg on the back of her head but other than that was okay. My aunt sat at her favorite table for two with a stack of receipts that she was reconciling as she listened. I saw the word “girlfriend” hadn’t escaped her ears either. She blinked at me twice.
“Well, I have to get back to my place and get a little rest. Keeping up with this girl is a full-time job in and of itself.” Tom jerked his thumb at me, making Bea nod.
“You’re preaching to the choir.” She added, “Between the three of us, maybe we can manage to keep her out of trouble.”
“You aren’t helping.” I snickered back.
“How about I come by your place tonight and bring you some chicken soup before I head off for the late shift? Crime never sleeps, you know,” Tom asked in front of everyone. Full disclosure was his style, almost to a fault. But I couldn’t help it. I kind of liked it. Tom made me the center of attention in a good way. I didn’t feel he was ever talking down to me. We agreed on so many things. It was nice to feel that someone enjoyed me for exactly who I was. But for some reason I didn’t like the idea of him coming over to bring me soup.
“I’m really pretty tired myself. After we close up, I think I’m just going to take a bath and go to bed.” I wasn’t lying. It was true. I was tired, and my body ached as if I’d gone ten rounds against Muhammad Ali.
“I understand.” He rubbed my back. “Aunt Astrid, I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Will you have a cup of coffee ready for me?”
“You know I will, Tom.” She smiled and gushed over him. “You be careful out there.” She waved with her good arm. The area the Rotmirage had scratched left three deep trenches of angry red gouges that had finally turned into dark-brown scabs.
Tom snuck one more kiss that was dangerously close to my lips before heading out the door, holding it open for none other than my favorite nemesis, Darla Castellan.
Abusing Magic
Darla smiled at Tom, and I was surprised that he didn’t check her out as she walked by. Instead, he just turned and walked on his way, peeking at me in the window and waving one last time.
As soon as male eye candy was gone, Darla went back to her obnoxious self.
“I’ll have a green tea with lemon.” She looked at Bea, Aunt Astrid, and finally at me. “My gosh, what happened to you all? Were you in a car accident or something?”
“Nope. A brawl broke out here at the café.” I squinted my eyes like Clint Eastwood in A Fistful of Dollars. “We had to crack a few skulls. You should see the other guys.”
“She’s kidding, right?” Darla snickered at Bea. “No one understood your humor in high school. I don’t know why you think anything has changed.”
I chuckled. It was funny how the more tolerant I was toward Darla, the ruder she became. I thought I had just discovered my secret weapon. I hobbled behind the counter and cut a fresh lemon slice for the tea. Bea dropped the bag in the cup, and I added the lemon and hot water.
“On the house, Darla. It’s always so nice to see you.” I wiped my hands on my apron and smiled.
She looked at me as if I might have spit in her cup and she missed it while staring at me. With her cup in one hand and her designer purse in the other, she quickly took a seat next to the window so everyone could see her, pulled out her phone, and began scrolling through whatever was important to her. I’d bet there was an endless stream of selfies she hadn’t admired in the past hour.
“So do you want to tell me why you turned down a visit from Officer Friendly, who was offering to bring you soup?” Bea slapped one hand on the counter and the other on her hip.
“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I really do just want to be alone tonight.”
“Do you want me to check on you? I could bring you some food,” Bea said, pushing my hair behind my shoulder.
“What are you having?”
“Fried polenta with sautéed peppers and onions.”
“Wow. No, thank you,” I teased. “I’ve got food at my place. A couple of chili dogs sound good.”
Bea wrinkled her nose but gave me a wink.
I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about how I was feeling about Tom. After what he did for my family and me, there weren’t words to describe it. And when a man and a woman don’t have words to express themselves, sometimes they find other ways to do that, and I wasn’t even remotely ready for that. I’ll admit it. I was more scared of how I felt about Tom than of any Rotmirage or black-eyed kids or monsters underneath my bed. As crazy as it may seem, I wanted that feeling to last. This time, I was enjoying the mystery.
When it was quitting time, I bundled up as best I could and started to walk home. Walking down the sidewalk in the cold November air, I could smell the homes of the people who were burning firewood in their fireplaces.
Up in the sky was a bright crescent moon with half a dozen “witches’ trails” across the sky. Those were actually exhaust trails from planes flying overhead. But I had heard a teenager call them that once, and it always struck me as kind of cute. A few stars twinkled, and I was pretty sure I could smell snow coming.
When I got to the door, my favorite face was there to greet me.
“Meow.”
“Cold enough for you?” I asked as Treacle whipped his tail over the newspaper he was sitting on.
“Yes. But the hunts are better.”
He meowed in the direction of the door, and I saw the small mouse he had brought for me. It was dead. Thinking of the poor creature in the attic of the Clare compound, I thought at least this mouse died for a natural purpose. Cats hunt. They eat some things, and they present other things as gifts to their owners.
“Well, that’s a beauty,” I said.
I scooped up the mouse in my one good hand and grabbed the newspaper with my wounded hand. Within seconds, Treacle and I were inside my house, engulfed in warmth and the familiar smell of sage and vanilla. I had yet to lose my scent from Aunt Astrid’s aroma spell, so it had transferred onto all my clothes and furniture. There were worse things to smell like.
With the mouse dangling from its spindly tail between my fingers, I delicately laid it on a paper plate.
“I’ll save this for later,” I lied. I don’t think Treacle knew I didn’t really eat his gifts. He rubbed affectionately against my leg then went into the bedroom at a slow and satisfied stride and found his spot in the middle of my bed in order to catch up on some sleep.
I was about to wrap the dead mouse in newspaper, but the headline stopped me. Wonder Falls Police Find Clares Dead in Separate Jail Cells.
I read the article but could tell there was a ton of information that was being left out. Normally, I’d just dash over to my cousin’s place and barge in, but it was so cold out tonight I thought I’d call first.
“Look outside your door,” Bea said. I hurried and peeked through the little peephole to see both my aunt and Bea wrapped in scarves and coats, and I thought Aunt Astrid was wearing a quilt blanket around her shoulders. They had the newspaper, plus each was carrying a paper bag.
“We weren’t sure if you had anything to eat,” Bea teased as she began to unload her shopping bag with sliced veggies—yuck—and hummus. My aunt was much more organized and pulled out a batch of frozen lasagna that she quickly put in the oven.
“It that vegetarian lasagna?” I asked.
“Of course it is.” Bea looked at me as if I had asked her if her hair was really red.
“I don’t care. I’m hungry. I’ll eat anything.”
“Obviously,” Aunt Astrid said, holding up the mouse on the paper plate.
“That was a gift from my prince.” I nodded toward the bedroom. “He’s now resting after a prosperous day of hunting mice.” Taking the mouse on the pl
ate, I unceremoniously dumped it in the trash and made sure it was covered completely. Then I spread out the newspaper, slapped my good hand right in the center of it, and sighed. “So? What do you think?”
My cousin actually admitted to feeling bad for the Clares.
“I hate to talk in these kinds of terms, but they really didn’t have a choice.”
After washing my hands, I grabbed a baby carrot and reluctantly chomped on it while I listened to Bea talk.
“They came from a long line of abusing magic, and it is only a matter of time before your mind can no longer see things correctly. It’s really very sad.” She shook her head.
“What did the paper say? I didn’t read it.” I chewed the carrot, which seemed to not get any smaller no matter how much I chomped on it.
Aunt Astrid went on to say that according to the papers, the Clares had refused to talk with their public defenders. They sat quietly in their separate cells, staring at the floor or the walls or the ceilings for hours. They wouldn’t eat. By the time they were approved for suicide watch, it was too late.
“They were found hung by their bedsheets from the pipes across the ceilings.” She pulled out a loaf of crusty Italian bread from her paper bag and tore off a piece, handing it to me. “Even though the holding cells have fifteen-foot-high ceilings and without the ability to fly, no man would be able to reach those pipes.”
“How do you know that?” Bea asked.
We had all been to the police station where Jake worked. He gave us a private tour of the whole place, including the evidence room, the interrogation rooms, and the holding cells. But this was Tom’s station on the other end of town. None of us had been there, or so we thought.
“That night, I went there to make sure these men were locked up tight.”
“W-What?” I stuttered. Suddenly, my falling-through-the-ceiling story didn’t seem nearly as cool as my aunt slipping into the police station unnoticed to spy on the latest inmates. I was almost jealous.
