by Devon Monk
“Something fell out of the sky,” I said.
“I know.” My youngest sister, Jean’s voice buzzed with excitement.
“You saw it?” Ryder asked, handing me toast.
I wasn’t hungry, but knew better than to turn down food before rolling into something like this. I took a bite and grinned. He’d put butter and honey on it. Even scrambling to check a possible disaster, he had his eye on the details, and had made a quick breakfast of toast and coffee something special.
“I was at the beach when it happened,” Jean went on. “I had a feeling...”
Jean’s family gift was knowing when something bad was going to happen. She called it her Doom Twinges, and she had been trying to get better at sensing the incoming “wrong” before it happened. It meant paying attention to the slightest niggle of wrongness she felt, instead of only paying attention to the big, possibly life-ending stuff she usually noticed.
I didn’t envy her gift, nor her quest to improve it. If I had to second-guess everything my intuition told me, or worse, believe every change in my mood, every random thought I had might be something more than just a mood or thought, I’d go out of my mind.
“I was parked right above the beach access. A hole opened in the sky, then time stopped—boom, fire—a car plops out of the sky.”
“Where did it land?” Ryder asked.
“On the beach. No one was around. No injuries.”
That was good, but we needed to make sure no one else had seen it fall.
“Do not approach the vehicle until we get there,” I said.
“Oops.”
“Jean,” I said.
“What did you want us to do, just stand here are stare at it?”
“That’s exactly what—who’s ’us’?”
“We’re on the beach right below 50th,” my other sister, Myra said.
Myra’s family gift was always being in the right place at the right time. So of course she was at the newest weird event. “We didn’t see anything or anyone exit the vehicle,” she said. “No one’s reported seeing anything strange. No one’s nearby.”
“Good.” I felt a little better knowing Jean wasn’t poking at the thing alone. I trusted both my sisters, but I was glad they had each other’s backs. “We’ll be there in five.”
Ryder thumbed off the call. “Anyone else?”
“No, we’re almost there.”
“Drink your espresso.”
“Why, did you spike it?”
“No, should I have?”
“Ask me after we figure out why cars are falling out of the sky.”
“Car. Only one so far.”
“Optimist.”
“To the grave, baby.” He toasted the cup and took a big swig.
I shoved the rest of the toast in my face and chased it with coffee. “So good,” I mumbled. “Honey’s amazing on this.”
“Blackberry and clover,” he said.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Gan and Moosh came by the station with samples.”
Gan and Moosh had returned to Ordinary after being away for several years. Gan was the god Ganesha, and his son Moosh was Mooshak. They were in the process of opening up their tea shop again, only this time they would also sell flowers.
“And I didn’t get any samples?”
“No complaining. I saved it for breakfast, and it was...?”
“Delicious,” I agreed.
I finished the last of my drink and plunked the cup in the holder next to his. “Ready?”
He nodded, and I pulled over onto the gravel and dirt pullout with a clump of trees between it and the beach below. A little foot-worn path jagged down through those trees to the beach.
Ryder and I swung out of the Jeep. I paused at the top of the path, glad I was still wearing his hoodie in the gusty wind. It smelled strongly of salt and seaweed mixed with sweet pine, a scent that would always be home to me.
I scanned the beach.
The vehicle was impossible to miss.
The baby-blue muscle car, something along the lines of a classic GTO, had landed on all four tires, high above the water line.
Myra and Jean were several yards away from it, Myra in her uniform, since she was pulling the morning shift today. Jean wore a flowing yellow skirt over light-green leggings, her bright pink hair propped up in ponytails. The whole thing made her look like a flower.
I put my fingers in my mouth and whistled.
Myra waved. I waved back, and meandered down the path, watching my feet for the first part where roots of trees stuck out like knobby knuckles, then looking southward down the beach.
The beach was empty, which wasn’t all that strange this early in the morning. About five miles south, I could make out one big tunnel kite—a huge wind sock spinning slowly— anchored to the beach by bags of sand.
Northward was a curve in the hillside, no people, no kites, just bare brown stone tufted at the top by tough grass.
“Didn’t Than tell you he was closing shop for a few days?” I asked Ryder.
“Yup.”
“Then who has the big kite out today?” Than was the god of death, but here in Ordinary, he ran a kite shop.
“The Persons have one of those. I think the Wolfes do too.”
The Persons were a family of shape shifters, and the Wolfes a clan of werewolves. “I thought they only bring out the big kites on weekends,” I said.
“I can call Than and see if he’s back from his amble.” I didn’t look over my shoulder but I could hear the air quotes Ryder implied.
“Oh, gods, is that what he called it?”
“He said he wouldn’t have a phone with him because it would interfere with his “rumination”, which sounded about right for a man who ambles. It’d be nice if he ambled back and picked up his next shift covering the front desk.”
“It’s a volunteer position, Ryder.”
“So’s mine. I show up for my shifts. And his.”
“That’s because you’re engaged to the boss and want to make a good impression.”
“That’s one reason.”
“What’s the other?”
“I look damn good in a uniform. Also, my fiancé has a thing about men in uniform.”
“Man,” I corrected. “Your fiancé has a thing for one man in a uniform. Or out of it, for that matter.”
He chuckled, pleased with himself.
The wind cut off as we descended the trail, and for a few steps it was suddenly summer, hot as August, instead of the warm June day. Then the wind picked up, spooling away summer’s heat and it was June forever again.
“What’s the story going to be for this one?” he asked as we continued down the path.
“High winds, I think.”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
“No, it’s easy. Listen: There was a microburst, just hit one spot, right where this car was on the beach, picked it up, then dropped it flat.”
“Microburst.”
“You know. Tiny powerful wind phenomenon. It’s a real thing, but no one’s really seen it. One knocked out a three-block swath of trees up near the pass a few years back. Flattened a strip of the forest like a giant fly swatter had smacked all the trees beneath it with one whack. The trees on the edge of the microburst are still standing like nothing ever happened.”
“Might work. Depends on how many people saw it drop.”
“We’ll make it work, no matter how many people saw it, because we are amazing that way.”
“Does it ever bother you?” he asked. “Lying to people about this stuff?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. “I know it’s part of the job. I know it’s important for everyone to stay safe and I need to do everything I can to keep them safe. If the outside world knew gods and the supernatural myths and fables all hung out among mortals here, it would be...chaos. Maybe even destruction.
“Gods have powerful enemies. World leaders have bombs. It would be...” I shook my head, not wanting to
give more thought to the nightmare scenario that had plagued me since I was a child.
“I love Ordinary. I love the mortals here—well, most of them. I love the supernatural people—again, most of them. And I love the gods. Okay, most of them too.” I threw a grin over my shoulder.
Ryder had that thoughtful look on his face. Like he was working through something. Something serious. Like he was contemplating asking questions I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer.
“I see the lies as a protection.” I ducked one last low branch that crossed the path. “A way to keep our town safe. A way to keep the world safe. Because if a god gets angry? Universes explode. Frightened people facing something they don’t understand, something they fear might have power over them? Those people, for right or wrong, do some horrific things.”
He scratched at the side of his neck and nodded. “Back when I was part of the DoPP, I was thinking those same things. What if we really found a supernatural? What decisions would we make? I knew what the regulations said. Capture, but don’t harm. But I knew the people I worked with too. Some were fanatical. They had a drive to capture, to win, even if that meant killing the thing they’d dedicated their life to find.”
“Lots of movies about that,” I noted.
“Never ends well for the monster.”
“Or the humans.”
I strode down onto the sand, dry and squeaky under my tennis shoes and followed the easiest path between rounded rocks and driftwood.
Ryder pulled up on my right, matching my strides.
Jean broke away from Myra and headed our way. “Car falling out of the sky was not on my bingo card,” she said happily. “But look at that thing.”
I shifted my gaze away from my floral-colored sister to the car.
“No one’s in it?”
“Not that we can see.”
“No one got out of it?”
She shook her head, ponytails bouncing. “Unless they’re invisible. Which, you know, is possible.”
“Was it a Doom Twinge?”
“It was...” She chewed the corner of her lip and shoved her hands in her skirt pockets. “...not bad? I mean I knew something weird was going to happen, but it didn’t feel like death and destruction. Not like the other times. But it felt like I should come out here and...watch.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “That’s good. You’re really getting good at this stuff.”
“Thanks.” She beamed. “That’s what happens when you live with a hot boyfriend who is into all the weirdo powers in town.”
Hogan was indeed hot. He was half Jinn and could see a person’s true nature through any disguise or illusion. He was also an amazing baker on whom my sister had a huge crush.
“You know,” Jean went on, elbowing me as we staggered slightly through the heavy soft sand toward the car, “like Ryder.”
He snorted, and when I looked over at him, he was grinning. Sexy. Smug. Happy.
I liked seeing him that way: happy. Happy to be a part of this town. Happy to make his home here, to become a part of the handful of beings who kept everything running as peacefully as possible, for mortals, monsters, and gods.
“You do know, don’t you, Delaney?” he asked, that grin smoldering. “What it’s like to have a boyfriend who’s into all the weirdo powers in town. A hot boyfriend?”
“No,” I said archly. “I do not.”
He tsked. “Liar, liar.”
“I don’t have a hot boyfriend. I have a hot fiancé.”
And oh, how that smile grew. He was hot. He was the kind of man who could stand in the middle of the grocery store debating what cereal to buy and turn heads. But when he smiled like that, it transformed him into something bright and wonderful.
How had I’d gotten so lucky to have a man like that—someone kind and smart and curious and hot—fall in love with me?
“What’s that face for?” He moved toward me, seemingly unable not to. “Penny for that thought in particular.”
“You’d need more than a penny for what I’m thinking.”
“Oooh,” Jean cooed. “Look at you two lovey-dovies. Bet the wedding planning’s been a lot of fun, right?”
Mood ruined.
Wedding planning had not been fun. Ryder’s wince showed me he was thinking the same thing.
He’d been trying to pull it together all on his own, and I felt guilty about it. But if I tried to help, he pushed me away. It had happened enough I’d given up and stepped back.
Like way back. No matter how much he said he could handle it, I knew he was drowning. I could see it, I really could. But I didn’t know how to get back into the ring and tell him to tap out.
The few times I’d tried, he’d firmly refused my help.
But I’d caught him staring into space like he had a hundred plates he had to keep spinning on a hundred sticks and he knew there was no chance he was going to get through that without plates toppling and breaking all around him.
Or I’d catch him pacing, one hand running up the back of his hair over and over as he talked to someone on the phone, or grumbled over a list, or pulled out his sketchbook to draw little rectangle tables.
I’d peeked at his sketches. The tables sometimes had flowers and streamers scribbled everywhere, or sprays of sparkle lights. Or one time, something that looked like chain-link fencing and prison bars.
“Yeah,” Ryder said, filling the silence that had gone on too long. “Planning’s been…fun.”
Fun.
“So, no one in the vehicle,” I said, all cop voice, which was not lost on Jean, if her eyes darting between the two of us was any indication. “And no one exited the vehicle.”
“As far as we can tell.” Myra nodded toward the car. “We’ve identified ourselves, but haven’t gotten close enough to look inside.”
Myra was shorter and curvier than me, and wore her hair in a page boy that brushed her shoulders. Her eyeliner, and whatever else she put on this morning to make her look like a pin-up dream, was flawless. Over her uniform she wore a bulky coat with the stitched emblem of the Ordinary Police Department.
Her phone was in her hand, and the footprints in the sand showed she’d circled the car while taking pictures of it.
“Did you catch it falling?” I pointed at her phone.
“No, but plenty shots of it. How do you want to handle this?”
“Let’s spread out. Ryder, stay back and watch for anything strange. Myra, take the backseat, Jean, the trunk. I’ll take the front.”
Everyone got into position, Ryder stationing himself closer to the strip of harder, wet sand. It was a smart choice. If someone took off running, Ryder wouldn’t be fighting soft dry sand at the start of the chase.
We moved in on the car as one, no weapons drawn. “This is Chief of Police Delaney Reed,” I said, loud enough to be heard over the waves. Seagulls drifted overhead, arcing toward the shallow waves. “We’re here to help. Are you injured?”
Myra chose the ocean side back door. Jean stood ready at the trunk for me to pull the trunk release lever in the front. I glanced in the driver-side window.
Empty and clean.
Most vehicles showed their use. A forgotten straw wrapper. Dust on the console. Smudges on the edge of a window.
Not this vehicle. It looked like it’d just rolled off the factory floor, the black leather clean and supple, the carpeting pristine, and everything else shiny and new.
I caught Myra’s eye over the top of the car. She nodded and we both tried the handles. The doors opened smoothly without even a squeak.
“Boss?” Jean asked.
“Yep.” I popped the trunk release under the dash to unlock the trunk for her, then leaned into the space, checking for signs of…well, anything.
“Myra?”
“Nothing. It’s clean.”
“Very clean,” I agreed. “So someone just dropped an empty car out of the sky?”
It wasn’t the strangest thing—by far—that had happened in Ordinary.
&nb
sp; Maybe a spell had gone wrong. Kids messing with magic they didn’t understand and couldn’t control. Somehow poked a hole in the sky. Somehow stopped time. Then pushed a car out of the heavens.
Wielding that kind of magic would take some real supernatural muscle. It would set off all sorts of warnings with all sorts of people in town. Someone would have caught that spell before the last abra was cadabraed. It would have been smothered.
I glanced at the odometer. The mileage was one. Just one mile.
I had no idea what that meant.
“Okay, so we’ve got—” A scrabbling scratch from inside the car shut me up quick.
There was something in there. Something under the front passenger seat.
“Come on out,” I said. “We’re here to help.” I shifted my weight so I could keep a hand on the door, glancing quickly at Myra to make sure she was getting into position on the other side of the front seat.
A flicker of movement drew my attention to the space under the seat. Whatever was under there wasn’t human—there was no space for a body under the seat. But there were a lot of tiny supernatural beings.
“It really is okay,” I said more gently. “Come on out. You’re safe here.”
Whatever it was moved out from beneath the seat fast. I jerked back and sucked in a breath.
“Crab!” I yelled.
The little Dungeness crab was about the size of a glazed donut. It scuttled in a circle on the floor like it didn’t know how to work all its legs yet. Something fell out of its mouth, then it rounded on me, waving both claws threateningly.
“Hey,” I breathed. “Hey, there little guy. How’d you get in here?”
It jerked right, left, right. Then made a run for it.
Right at me.
It shot out the door, dropped like a rock, and quickly scuttled under the car.
“Incoming,” I shouted to Myra. “Tiny crab.”
Myra stared at the sand. “This our perp?”
“It’s a crab,” I said.
“I see that. Did you want me to cuff it, Danno?”
“Shut up.”
She grinned. “Too small to eat,” she noted. “Probably just crawled in there for a nice nap and then you scared the shell out of it.”
“Ha. Ha.” I joined her near the front fender. The little crab was running as quickly as it could toward the water.
