Release Of Magic: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Leira Chronicles Book 2)

by Martha Carr

  “Okay,” she said, shaking off darker thoughts. “Time to get our oversized shopping on. Get a cart and meet me back near the front in thirty minutes. That’s plenty of time. Probably too much time. I’m not guaranteeing we’re getting everything you pick up.”

  “I have money from your family.” Correk pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. Leira saw the curve of his stomach and felt herself flush.

  Have to stop doing that every time I see the man’s skin.

  “That helps,” she said, flustered. “Put it back in your pocket and grab a cart.”

  “You know, we could be cousins.”

  “Alright, alright. That helps. Fuck. Grab a cart, already. One of those rolling metal cages. You put what you want to buy in that.”

  “I saw them at CVS. They’re amazing.”

  “Go figure. No one ever stole a shopping cart and took it back to Oriceran. You travel through a portal from another world and ooh and aah over a shopping cart and Cheetos. Hey! No gadgets,” she yelled after him, as she reluctantly watched Correk head off toward the home goods section.

  “The tube socks are in the other direction! I know you can hear me!”

  A woman turned to see who Leira was yelling at and smiled. “Men. They say they don’t like to shop but put them in a Costco and they go nuts.”

  ***

  Correk quickly abandoned his first cart. A front wheel kept spinning in circles making it drift to the right. He considered applying just a little magic but thought better of it. He turned around, retracing his steps in the direction of the front of the store to get another one.

  “Try a pig in a blanket?” A tall, thin woman with spiky blonde hair wearing a blue Costco apron stood behind a tall, narrow table with a hotplate full of little wieners stuffed in crescent rolls. She was holding a pair of tongs in the air, yellow bracelets jangling around her wrist.

  “Beg your pardon?” The smell made him stop. That and the troll squirming to get out of his pocket. Correk clamped his hand down over his stomach, holding the troll as still as possible.

  Correk raised his fist to cover his mouth and coughed, “Nesturnium.”

  “I thought that only worked when I did it.” Leira was right behind him, whispering over his shoulder.

  Correk jumped and almost lost his grip on the pocket.

  “It does, but hope springs eternal. Dammit! Announce yourself!”

  “You mean, like with a card? Not the way I roll. Helps to be able to sneak up on people. Hang on, come here.”

  Leira bent over so her face was closer to the pocket.

  “How close do I have to be when I say it?”

  “Not that close.”

  Leira straightened back up, waving at the old man walking by, leaning on a cane. “Hello,” he said, tipping his hat with way too broad a smile.

  “Well, that was awkward,” she said, her face warming. “Okay, from here is good?”

  “Perfect. Right where you are,” said Correk through clenched teeth.

  “No need to get twisted about it. Simple mistake. Things like that happen all the time on this side of the portal.”

  “Any time you’re ready,” he said, annoyed.

  “Okay, okay.” Leira was enjoying the moment. So much better than touchie-feelie. “All right, that’s enough.” She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Nesturnium.”

  “It isn’t necessary to do the whole deep breath thing first.”

  “I know but I like the dramatic pause. Makes it seem like a bigger deal.”

  “Not really.”

  “Sure it does. Wiener?” Leira grabbed a toothpick from the clear plastic cup the woman was holding and speared a hotdog, holding it up to Correk’s mouth. “Careful biting down. Might be hot.”

  Correk wanted to protest or at least look more dignified. “Smells too good,” he said, and bit down hard.

  “Careful! Don’t want to take the toothpick with you,” said the woman.

  “Listen to the sample lady. Besides, they’ll let you have two. You can even have mine if it means that much to you.” Leira saw the look on his face and rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, it means that much? Sure, fine.” She speared another one, dipped it in the ketchup and held it up. “Slower this time. Even in Costco there’s a certain etiquette, you know.”

  “Even better with the red sauce. Why are you back over here?” said Correk through a mouth full of dough and hotdog.

  “I can always wait till you swallow,” said Leira, looking away. “It’s a crime scene in there. You’re near the produce section. My next stop.”

  “You’re checking up on me.”

  “No, that’s hopeless. You’re like a dog in a warehouse full of shiny squirrels. You’re going to chase after everything. My plan is to stop you at the point of exit.”

  “It’s nice of them to feed us while we shop in their market.”

  “Oh, you have no idea. Meet you up by the front. Tick tock. I’m headed to the groceries. I’ll catch you later.”

  “Does that mean we’re near the Oreos?”

  “In the neighborhood.”

  “They’re over by the back wall, three aisles over,” said the sample lady, smiling at Correk. She was pointing in the direction he needed to go.

  Leira watched the way the woman was ogling Correk. “Your fan club grows larger everywhere we go. I don’t quite see it,” she said, squinting her eyes. “Get going. Don’t want to be in here all day.”

  “I was headed to the front to get a better cart. The old one had a broken wheel.”

  “The worst,” said Leira. “Twenty minutes left on the clock,” she said, patting her wrist.

  “Is that some kind of sign language?”

  “Leftover signal from another era. Never mind, get going.”

  Correk worked his way toward the front of the store again and found the carts. He pulled another one out, testing it in every direction.

  “Careful. Thoughtful. I like that in a man.” The woman smiled at him with crimson lips, batting false eyelashes attached to smoky eyes.

  Correk offered a strained smile and pushed the cart away quickly, sliding a hand into his pocket to check on the troll. “Women on this planet…” he muttered. “There are so many of them in constant search for a mate.”

  He turned at the mattresses and got disoriented, weaving his way down the lawnmower aisle before popping out next to a display of no-name cookies in large plastic containers. He stopped and looked at them. “Probably not.”

  He looked across the wide expanse in the center at the tall aisles on the other side. From that vantage point it was easier to see that at the end of every third aisle was another sample lady.

  “Well, it’s kind of a plan.” He maneuvered his cart to the far wall of the store, checking his list. The first sample station was serving tiny quiches in three varieties. He gave the lady a half smile, arching an eyebrow as he got closer. “I know I’ll hate myself later. Using Elven charm for extra servings of free food.”

  “Why, hello there. Bless your heart,” said the tiny, round woman standing on a stool so she could more easily work the microwave next to her. “These come thirty-six to a bag in the frozen section just behind me. Two minutes for half a bag in the microwave and you have yourself a party!” Her voice was high pitched, almost a squeak.

  Correk took a small napkin, trying to decide what to try first.

  “Oh, take one of each, darlin. It’s early. I have plenty. Nice big man like you. You need a little snack.”

  Correk easily palmed one of the quiches into the pocket in his hoodie, and felt two small hands grab on and pull the morsel away from him.

  “Are we near tube socks?”

  “Honey, just work your way down all the food aisles and you’ll see them in a big display in the middle, halfway down. Can’t miss it. You single? I have the cutest niece!”

  Correk smiled and turned quickly, pushing the cart in the direction of the Oreos. He wheeled down the third aisle, easily spotting t
he large packages of Double Stuffed, amazed as he took in the different sizes and flavors of just that one cookie. He went further and looked at the Chips Ahoy, Pepperidge Farm and Keebler.

  “That is not at all what an elf looks like. Like they mashed a troll and a gnome together and put a little pointed hat on it. What are these?”

  He opened an oversized bag of Deluxe Grahams, sliding out two, putting one in the pocket with the troll, biting down on the other. “Not bad, even if they have their Oricerans wrong.”

  “No sampling the stuff that’s for sale.” A large man with a bushy moustache wearing the familiar Costco blue apron stopped at the end of the aisle with his hands on his hips. “Make sure you buy those and stick to the free samples till you get out of the store. Some people,” he muttered, as he walked away.

  “Got it. Only eat what the sample ladies give you in the store.”

  Correk made his way up and down the aisles, listening to the pitches, stopping for a small paper cup of chicken chow mein, ‘ready in ten minutes, all in one bag’, and another paper cup with cherry cheesecake, ‘just take it out of the freezer and you’re done’, and a hot and spicy wing, ‘perfect for game day’, that left him holding his mouth open, fanning his tongue till he came across the samples of Gatorade, ‘to replace all of those electrolytes after a hard workout’, grabbing three of them and drinking them down as fast as he could.

  In between, he managed to find the things on his list, marveling at all the varieties. “Look at all the different kinds of pizza! Surely, Leira will understand.” He got one of each and tossed them into the cart, making his way to the next sample lady.

  By the time he got to the front of the store he had found everything on the list, but there was a growing gurgle in his stomach. The troll trilled softly and a tiny hand poked out of the pocket, the palm outstretched, looking for more food. “Oof! I don’t know how you do it.”

  The little hand waved faster. Correk pulled out another graham cracker and shoved it into the pocket. The little hand retreated. “Mmmmm. Yum fuck.”

  “Hello, good day,” said Correk, trying to smile at the ladies passing him who seemed more amused than offended.

  “It’s about time!” Leira was leaning against a large pile of men’s khaki pants. “You don’t look very good. What did you do? Oh, you tried everything.” She shook her head. “Such a rookie. You’re riding home with your head out the window. Come on. Did you manage to get any kibble for the troll? Forgot didn’t you. No worries. Saw that one coming a mile away. We’re going to try a little Purina. He ate fuzzy gum. This will be a big step up,” she said, as she pushed her cart up to the nearest register.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The remodeled Chicago Avenue Pumping Station in the heart of Chicago’s Magnificent Mile, the shopping mecca by Lake Michigan, was also the regular meeting place for the local Order of the Silver Griffins. It had been for well over a hundred years since the station was still functioning in its original capacity as a public utility. Back then, no one gave the building a second glance. There were so many other things to distract, like the World’s Fair and a new invention that debuted there called the Ferris Wheel.

  The Ferris family were proud members of the Order going back thousands of years and clever engineers. A wizard cousin helped build the pumping station and started the ball rolling to make it a safe haven for witches and wizards passing through Chicago in need of a place to rest.

  Fortunately, as it changed hands, eventually becoming a theater, it still came under the purview of a friendly witch or wizard family. The thousands of tourists who schlepped past the building every day on their way to the Water Tower and the dancing fountain that spit water up and down several flights in the middle of the escalator, never knew they were so close to so much hidden magic.

  The humans were impressed with a clever fountain that shot water the same way, at different intervals all day long. Spit, spit, spit. Imagine if they could have seen into the depths of the Chicago Avenue Pumping Station, especially at the annual Christmas party.

  More than one instance of snow thunder was too many witches and wizards dipping into the whiskey punch. There was a general rule that no wands were allowed but no one ever listened. The elders always stood in the back and kept watch, just in case things got too far out of hand. After all, the Order’s credo was to keep magic hidden. Not dress up like Santa just to fly over houses for a laugh.

  In the back of the station, one flight down, sat the vault that was built before the station and was even the reason for planting the large stone edifice on top of it. To keep the contents safely hidden away.

  Today was no different.

  An older witch looked up from what she was doing to the noise over her head. She was wearing a navy blue suit and flat shoes and a badge hung around her neck from a lavalier that said, docent. A fancy word for guide.

  “It’s Peter Pan again. The matinee is just getting started. Humans are obsessed with flying fairies. They’re okay, I suppose, but really, a dime a dozen on Oriceran.”

  “It’s a nice fairytale,” the other witch replied. She was dressed in long charcoal gray yoga pants and an even longer powder blue puffy coat that went to her ankles. That’s what pegged her as a local. Perfect to blend in with the shopping crowd outside in the cold winter air. “Now, go be the lookout. Don’t let anyone wander down here.”

  The wand made of fir tucked into her deep coat pocket was what pegged her as a witch from these parts.

  The wizard kneeling next to the younger witch was casting a spell on the vault to get it to open. “Expandoria,” he said, waggling his fingers. The solid three-foot thick door creaked open an inch but not quite far enough. It was far too heavy for anyone to force open without magical ability. The charm on it would make machinery useless as well.

  “What’s with the jazz hands?”

  “Sorry, I’ve been playing with my kids lately. Showing them little spells. Have to train them early.”

  “Well, a little focus would go a long way right now. If anyone found out we grabbed the necklace there will be trouble.”

  “I know. I get it.”

  “Are you sure no one saw you do it?” The witch was carefully holding a braided necklace with a diamond-shaped lavender colored pendant. The edges of it were covered in soot but otherwise there wasn’t a scratch on it.

  “Positive,” said the wizard. “I got to it before the smoke cleared. Everyone was still trying to get their bearings after the blast. I told you that was going to happen.”

  “I know, I know. The whole ending was no real surprise. Tragic but not a surprise. Good thing you thought to cast that spell over the broom closet in the back or we would have been toast along with those two humans.” The witch shook her head, frowning. “They should never mess with artifacts. It has never ended well for their kind.”

  “Yeah, kaboom!” The wizard puffed up his cheeks and rolled his eyes, blowing out the breath in one gasp.

  “You should really get out with more adults,” the witch told him. “Now, try again.”

  The wizard held out his wand and said the spell again, adding a twist. “Expandoria, infintinia!” The safe swung open with a whoosh, knocking the wizard back on his heels.

  “Nicely done,” said the witch. “I’ll have to remember that one for the next time. Can you move back a little now?”

  The witch stepped over the wizard and into the vault that stretched out underneath the pumping station. In front of her were different aisles stretching up two stories, full of different boxes. Each one had a different charm to keep an artifact in and an intruder out.

  The witch grabbed one of the smaller velvet-lined boxes and set the necklace inside, snapping the case shut and twisting the lock.

  “I’m putting this under the dead Prince’s name. It holds the last of his energy. Seems only fitting,” she said, marching left and toward the back, looking for the Rs. “Ah, there we go. Rolim. Right between Jack the Ripper’s razor artifact, now, that w
as a wicked piece of business,” she said, sliding the box into place. “And snuggled nicely next to the running shoes. Remember that one? Ran a few people to their death back in the seventies! Worse than steroids!”

  “I remember. Both of those wizards got sent back to Oriceran and Trevilsom Prison. Unsolved mysteries over here.”

  “Makes for a good TV show, doesn’t it? Even when you know the real ending. Fun to see what the humans come up with to explain these things.”

  “Never the same thing twice, either,” the wizard agreed, looking around at the shelves. “There has to be hundreds of artifacts and relics in here by now, maybe thousands.”

  “May no one outside of the Order ever find that out,” the witch replied with a shudder.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here. I have a junior high basketball game to referee. Make sure you put the glamour charm back in place to hide the building. Something darker than usual is searching for this necklace.”

  “I know, I know,” said the witch. They marched out to the front of the vault, standing clear of the enormous door. “Now who’s the worrier? Not that I don’t approve,” she said, pulling out her wand. “Compressoria, infintinia!”

  The door groaned loudly, grinding against the concrete, and lumbered shut, the brass gears whirring and clicking as the mechanism locked into place. Built by the gnomes of Oriceran, known for their ability to not only keep secrets but create clever ways to guard them as well. Shipped over to Earth a piece at a time with a few gnomes to put it back together correctly.

  “The vault has stood the test of time for well over a hundred years without a single break-in.” The witch brushed a strand of hair out of her face, admiring the structure.

  “I’m not one to get all weird about feelings, but I have a bad one about this necklace. Whatever’s hunting it, I hope this can stand the test.”

  “It’s seen the worst and been fine. Come on, you have a game to get to. We’ve been underground long enough.”

  ***

  Correk helped Leira carry the boxes from the car to the guesthouse. “Most of this is yours, anyway,” she smirked.