The Midwest Wanderer

by Flint Maxwell

  Near six in the morning, the laughter died down. Salem got up and gathered everyone’s empty containers of ice cream to throw in the trashcan. Lois had nearly drowned herself in the buckeye flavor; one of the few things she missed about the Midwest, besides the people.

  She stood up.

  “I’m gonna go look for him. I can’t wait anymore. I gotta husband at home, and Patsy manning my PDA line; she’s probably a trainwreck, now.”

  Agnes got up, too, and put her arm around Lois’s shoulder. “All right, we’ll take you over to his house. Maybe we can find some clue as to why he’s not back yet.”

  “Yeah, it’s not like him to stay over for so long,” one of the Muffler twins said as she paused between gulping down the last bit of melted ice cream.

  “True, but we shouldn’t worry…yet,” Agnes said.

  “That’s comforting,” Lois answered.

  Salem came back. He had heard the conversation, and was glad to help Lois and the Silver Griffins. If there was one thing he’d learned in his many years on Earth, it was not to get on the Griffins’ bad side.

  He turned to the Muffler twins. “I know you two don’t want to leave here, on account of I won’t be around to put a cap on your ice cream consumption.” Salem stroked his long beard. “So,” he said softly as he dug a hand into the pocket of his tweed trousers and pulled out a key ring, “there’s a chance I won’t be here to open the store. Two moons forbid that’s the case, but it’s possible. Would you mind opening up for me around ten?”

  The Muffler twins nodded, sly grins on their ice cream-covered faces.

  “Thank you kindly,” Salem said. “Knew I could count on you. Please, don’t—I repeat, do not—eat all of my inventory.”

  “No worries,” they said simultaneously.

  “Thank you, and try not to make a big mess, either. I got an image to uphold.”

  “Yeah, of the old wizard who gives away free ice cream,” Agnes said, laughing.

  Salem rolled his eyes and put his arm around Agnes. “Ready?” he asked Lois.

  “Want the truth?” Lois replied. “I’m not. I’m kind of fearing the worst.”

  “Don’t worry,” Salem said, reaching a hand out and putting it on Lois’s forearm. “Whatever’s wrong, we can fix. That’s what friends are for.”

  And they all knew Salem was right.

  ***

  No less than fifteen minutes later, they pulled into Ignatius’s driveway. Lois found it hard to catch her breath. She was nervous—dead and missing members of the Order, Arachnids, music boxes, and the world in between… could it get much worse?

  The house seemed still and empty.

  Salem walked right up to the front windows and peered in.

  “TV’s on,” he said. “Someone’s here.”

  Lois’s hand hovered over her 3-D printed, government-issued wand.

  “Should we knock?”

  “No need, I have a key,” Salem answered.

  Agnes shook her head at Lois, and mouthed, ‘He doesn’t’.

  Instead of a key, Salem took out his own wand and tapped the doorknob. Light flashed in the hazy morning, illuminating the brass. With a click, the lock undid itself, and the door creaked open.

  He pushed his way in, Agnes and Lois following right behind him.

  I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Lois was thinking. Her glasses were slipping off the end of her nose, but she didn’t have the time or the urge to fix them. No, she grabbed her wand instead, ready for a fight.

  The TV wasn’t playing any program at all—just static and that awful fzzt noise that comes with a dead channel. And even though the sun was coming up, it was still quite dark inside of Ignatius’s living room; this was, unsurprisingly to Lois, as quirky as she had expected it to be for a wizard of Ignatius’s personality.

  “We split up,” Agnes said, taking control of the situation from Salem. Lois felt a little better as she did. Witches and magical females, in her experience, were meant to lead. They stayed calm when shit hit the fan. Take Leira Berens of Austin, for example. Half-Light Elf and new to the hidden magical world, at that, and Lois had never met someone with such resolve in all of her years.

  Agnes directed Salem toward the stairs and pointed up, then she motioned Lois to the living room, where the dead TV played its dead channel. She herself went to the left, toward the kitchen and another hallway that smelled like dog.

  They went, each tiptoeing over the hardwood, not making a sound.

  As Lois passed the couch, she stared at the TV. It was hypnotizing in its own way, and she hadn’t noticed the two covered lumps on the living room floor. Her shoe drove into one, and both Lois and the person under the covers cried out. Lois went stumbling into the opposite wall, catching her balance enough to direct herself into a ratty E-Z chair, while the other lump shifted underneath the covers and screamed.

  “Ouch!” Claire said. “Tab, what the hell did you do that for?” Her eyes were bleary, hardly opened.

  “Do what?” the other lump answered, which must’ve been Tab.

  “Kick me in the ribs. Not cool.”

  “What? I didn’t… I’m right here, Claire,” Tab said.

  “Huh?”

  Lois watched this exchange with strange fascination.

  Claire turned toward the figure in the chair, thinking it must be Maria or her grandfather—who else would be up at this ungodly hour? She rubbed her eyes, wiping the sleep away from them. Suddenly, she stopped, and her eyes opened as wide as two full moons.

  Lois looked at the Claire. “Don’t worry, I am an ally,” she said, raising her hand.

  “What are you doing in here? Get out!” Tabby demanded from the floor.

  “This isn’t your house. Get out, or we’ll call the police!” Claire echoed.

  Thankfully, Agnes and Salem rushed into the living room then, and recognition registered in the eyes of both young women.

  “What is going on?” Claire asked, getting up, but still backing against the wall with Tab right next to her.

  “We’re looking for Ignatius,” Agnes said, smiling. “Has he not come back yet?”

  Everyone seemed to have calmed down a bit, though Claire rubbed at her ribs where Lois accidentally kicked her.

  The girls shook their heads. “I, uh… geez, what time is it?” Claire asked, stifling a yawn. “Way too early to get kicked in the ribs.”

  “Sorry about that,” Lois said. “It was an accident. Didn’t see you on the floor. I was coming over to unplug that TV. Damn thing was giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

  They turned to look at the fuzzy station. Claire nodded. “Makes sense.” Then she turned it off.

  It was Tabby who got them all back on track. “Ignatius came back sometime last night. He opened a door or a portal or whatever right here in the living room.”

  “He did?” Lois asked, standing up now.

  “Did he find the Gnome? Any news about the music box?” Salem inched closer to the couch and leaned his elbows on the back of it.

  Tabby shook her head, one hand settled on her chin, deep in thought. “No, no—”

  “He was with a dark witch, or at least she looked dark. Didn’t give off the kind of vibe you two give off,” Claire said, pointing to Agnes and Lois. “But she was nice enough.”

  “What else?” Agnes asked.

  “Something about a dragon and a seaside town where the Gnome was at. They were going to rescue him and the townspeople from the dragon, and then hopefully unlock whatever secrets they need to get into that dead place…you know, where Duke was at,” Claire went on. “But that was the last time that we saw them. Anyway, who is this lady who kicked me? I’m—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Salem said, standing straighter and putting his arms up. “What did you say? A dragon?”

  The girls nodded.

  Oh, no, this is not good, Lois thought. Not many have faced a dragon and lived to talk about it.

  “It was only last night,” Tabby said, but she
saw, as did Claire, the pained, ashen expressions on the witches’ and wizard’s faces.

  “One night here is much longer there,” Salem explained quietly. He turned to Lois. “I had thought that maybe he was taking his time and training Maria. I never knew about any dragon…”

  “Yeah, something like a Rogue and Dragon Tongue,” Claire said, remembering.

  “Oh, no,” Agnes said. “The Rogues have been gone for centuries. If the Dragon Tongue are back and plan to raise one…”

  “They’ll raise them all,” Salem finished.

  Lois put her wand back in her pocket, stretched her arms high above her head, and laced her fingers together. They cracked loudly.

  “Did you hear what town, girls?” she asked.

  “Ashland…or Ashtown?” Claire said. She furrowed her brow, trying to think.

  “Ashbourne!” Tabby said. “It was Ashbourne. I remember because I thought they said Airborne, then I thought of dragons flying, airborne, but ash like fire, and—”

  “Okay, Tab,” Claire said, “enough with the mnemonic devices.” She rolled her eyes. “She used to do this in high school. It was so annoying.”

  “Well, her annoying tendencies may have just saved your friends’ lives,” Lois said. “Thank you both, and I’m sorry about kicking you in the ribs.”

  “No problem,” Claire said, waving a hand.

  Lois turned to Agnes and Salem. “You know what has to be done.”

  They nodded gravely.

  “It will not be an easy task,” Lois said. “Hardly ever is, and I wish I could come with you.”

  "You can't?" Salem asked, disappointed.

  "I can't," Lois answered. "But if you run in to trouble, you know how to reach me. I have duties to preform at the PDA, and a husband and a partner to get back to or they'll have my head."

  Salem nodded. He understood. Agnes stepped forward and hugged Lois. Salem joined in, too.

  “We’ll succeed because we are stronger together, Lois,” Agnes said, smiling somberly. "Don't you worry."

  "Oh, I know you will," Lois replied. “Just like the old days.”

  “Wait, you’re going after them?” Claire asked Salem, interrupting the farewells.

  Salem, looking at her, nodded.

  “Then we’re coming, too. Right, Tab?”

  Tabby didn’t even hesitate. The run-in with the Arachnid was the furthest thing from her mind, though the pain was still present. “Yeah, count us in.”

  They could tell by the set expressions on the girls’ faces that there was no denying these two Earthlings.

  Ah, well, what better group to save the day then these four? Lois thought. It will all be okay. I'm here if they need me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Maria opened her eyes to see a deep orange, flickering light bouncing through the cave’s exit. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but it felt like more than an hour; her body was reinvigorated. She shot up from the rock, not even waking up the snoring Sherlock, who was sprawled out on his back, before rushing to her grandfather.

  “Maria!” Gramps said. He did not look much better, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

  She hugged him and laughed.

  Sherlock perked up, rolling over. He rose like he had in the days of his youth and bounded over to Gramps and Frieda.

  Oh, my GOD! I thought I was never gonna be able to listen to you snore again! What would I have done without you?

  “He says he missed you and he’s glad you’re back,” Maria told her grandfather.

  “I’m glad I’m back, too, Sherlock, and I’m glad you’re back. Never run off like that again, my dear friend,” Gramps answered.

  I won’t! Never again, I promise. I just heard a Raffin growling, and a bunch of squirrels chittering all mockingly. I couldn’t help myself.

  Maria didn’t have to tell Gramps what he said. She saw him read it in the Bloodhound’s eyes. “It was not an easy journey,” he said, turning to look at Maria.

  “You’re telling me,” Maria said.

  “We saw terrible things,” Freida took Gramps’s hand and squeezed.

  “So did I,” Maria said. She wanted to tell them all about the Trials of Antenele, but knew it was not the time. There was a town possibly under siege by a dragon; people needed saving there, and from the world in between. Maybe when this was all said and done, she would speak of it—though she never wanted to relive that terrible experience.

  “I’m just glad we are all right,” Gramps said. He brushed Maria’s hair away from her face, and then turned to walk down the mountain pass.

  “Wait, Gramps, don’t you think you should rest up a bit?” Maria called after him.

  He smiled and looked up at the towering white tree with its full red leaves. “I shall rest enough when I am dead. Come on, you three, we are not far.”

  They went on.

  ***

  By the time they cleared the mountain, Oriceran’s two moons were high in the sky, shining brilliant white light down upon them. Frieda helped guide them through the rocky landscape with her flames.

  As they came out of the mountain pass, Maria saw a black lake shimmering with moonlight behind a sleepy town.

  “There it is,” Gramps said, pointing. They all paused to look, standing on the last rise of the mountain before they reached the ground. “Ashbourne.”

  Relief undid the knots in Maria’s chest. The town was all right; it wasn’t burned to ashes, and no dragon flew above it, roaring and breathing fire onto the citizens below.

  “Our luck may not have run out yet,” Gramps said. “Ashbourne and Gelbus the Gnome await us.”

  “And the secrets to the world in between,” Maria added.

  Freida’s flame grew, painting the rocky path with orange light.

  “Yes, and the villagers waiting to be saved.” Gramps led the way, and Sherlock padded behind him, sniffing along the path.

  This is good, being back with my family, Maria thought, especially after what happened in the Cave of Delusion.

  Then she heard something. Though she wasn’t sure if it was real or if her mind was playing tricks on her, the sound was unmistakable: it was the distant roaring of some great beast. Perhaps the same beast she had dreamed about; the one who shook the trees and blocked out the two moons.

  That beast, she now knew, was a dragon.

  FINIS

  Author Notes - Flint Maxwell

  Written October 26, 2017

  Thank you for reading all the way to the end of The Midwest Wanderer. I still can't believe this is a thing, you know, readers actually reading my work. I've published about a dozen books since I started this author gig and the feeling of getting a good review or having one of you wonderful readers reach out to me through Facebook or email hasn't lost its luster, nor do I think it ever will. So thank you for all you do for me. Without your hunger for stories, there would be no Maria, Ignatius, or Sherlock—and my life would be especially boring if I never got to write about that talking Bloodhound again.

  I read each and every review for book 1. They were all mostly great, and the ones that would be considered bad weren't exactly that bad. I tried to incorporate some of the suggestions you all had into this book. In book 1, Maria was really just a normal nineteen year old girl so I wrote her how I thought she would talk and act even though I've never exactly been a nineteen year old teenage girl. Now, Maria has grown a lot since she defeated Malakai on Main Street, and I think that's evident in book 2 by the way she carries herself and leads the group toward Ashbourne despite all that's thrown in her way. She will continue growing throughout the rest of the series, that I know for sure, and Sherlock will continue doing things he shouldn't be doing…such as marking his territory on Gnomes.

  You know, while we are on the subject of Sherlock, I should tell you about his creation. While growing up, I've always had a lot of dogs as pets. When I was in the third grade, I begged my mom for a dog. I mean, begged. She was reluctant to give in,
knowing she'd probably be the one who had to take care of it since I was so young, but she did eventually give in. My mom and I drove to Hartville, Ohio one winter evening to a barn that was selling puppies for $50. My mom told me I could take my pick when we got there. I still remember the smell—unpleasant—and the straw strewn all over the floor. The puppies were a mix between Beagle and Lab (a weird mashup, I know) and they all seemed so lively and happy to have company. Naturally, I didn't pick any of these puppies. No, I saw one of them nestled away in the corner, looking quite glum. She was a black Lab with the floppiest ears I've ever seen. I picked her much to my mom's displeasure and named her Cupcake.

  Cupcake sat on my lap the whole ride home. Of course, she peed, too, but I didn't mind. She was nervous, but as I looked into her eyes, I could tell she was happy enough. When we got home, Cupcake adjusted slowly, often hiding under a chair in our living room, and there was talk of taking her back to Hartville in exchange for one of the more-livelier puppies, but I wouldn't have it. Third-grade me put his foot down and said she'd come around.

  And boy did she ever. Cupcake was soon knocking over the trashcan, chewing shoes, snatching pizza out of our hands, and even on one terrifying occasion, eating paintballs. She had an iron stomach, though. Most of what she ate never bothered her. So for Sherlock, I took this trait and gave it to him. After Cupcake got a little older, my mom caught what I call 'Dog Fever,' and before I knew it, the small house was filled with puppies. At one point we had seven, all of them mostly small ankle-biter types. It was, as you probably assumed, mayhem. But man, was it fun as hell.

  So when Martha and I brainstormed Maria's companion, I naturally thought a cat would be the best pet for a witch, an idea that Martha promptly rejected, and rightfully so. A cat? Talk about cliché. We went with a dog instead, and I didn't know he was going to have telepathic abilities until I started writing the first draft of book 1. I knew he was going to communicate with Maria somehow, but had no idea how. The simple answer is magic, but the more complicated answer as to how Maria can hear Sherlock's thoughts is coming in book 3, so stay tuned.