by Martha Carr
There it was. An empty space right next to Jack the Ripper’s razor. The necklace was gone. Someone had betrayed them. Worse, they knew it had to be one of their own.
“You stay here and make sure nothing else was taken. Get help and check every other piece in here,” said the witch with a short grey bob. She had a black streak across her cable knit sweater where a blast had come a little too close.
Hundreds of items, all carefully catalogued. It would take a while to be certain.
“Consider it done, Eloise,” said a short, round witch with a twisted braid pinned into a bun on the back of her head.
Eloise ran back up the stairs, already yelling, “Secure the wounded enemies. Don’t let any of them go! Get help for our own!” Someone would pay for this betrayal, even if it meant opening a portal to Trevilsom Prison, or death.
***
Leira felt the tremors from the magical earthquake all the way across the country. She was sitting at her desk in the precinct looking at a new case file, another dead body, when the rolling energy passed through her. She looked up at Hagan, half expecting him to look startled too, but then she realized it wasn’t the ground shaking. It was passing through the air. She saw the wavy opaque lines spreading out, and just as quickly dissipating.
“I gotta go.” She stood up, pulling her jacket off the back of her chair.
“What? What just happened?” Hagan looked up from the report he was typing. There were always reports to do for someone about something. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing, we’re good. I just remembered something. I’ll be back. Forgot an errand.”
“Don’t lie to me, Berens. I know that look. What just happened?”
Leira looked around to make sure no one else was in earshot. It was between a shift change and the main rooms were mostly empty. Everyone was out on the streets except a few who were working on reports from their desk.
“Something I don’t understand, but feels like it’s important. This feeling’s bullshit,” she said, patting her chest, “it’s like having someone tied to you who won’t shut the fuck up.”
“Berens, you’re just not used to feeling much of anything except determined, angry, bored and victorious. Anything else, you dismissed,” he said, brushing his hands together. “You’re building an internal dial to regulate all of that so-called bullshit. It’ll come together and then it’ll be like one of those old-fashioned meters Johnny Carson used to have.”
Leira looked confused, making Hagan roll his eyes at her.
“Carson? Aw, come on Berens. Greatest late-night TV host ever! Fine, you’re building this internal dial that will get better at recognizing the more touchy-feelie variety that doesn’t involve a takedown. Like actual happiness.”
“Well, my gut is saying this is important but I don’t know what to do with it. I gotta go!”
“I get it. You need to ask your magical guru, the big alien. Go! Go! I’ll cover for you here. No chance you’d… alright! Don’t give me that look! I’m almost done, anyway. I’m outta here soon enough. I want to try and mow the yard before the sun sets.”
“On your riding lawn mower.” Leira turned to go without waiting for an answer.
“A lot more effort than the ads let on,” yelled Hagan. Leira was already halfway down the hall, heading for the door.
She drove home, tapping the steering wheel, her nerves on edge. The magic had left a dark feeling that jangled her nerves.
She pulled into a spot in front of Estelle’s and got out, heading for the gate. She noticed Craig standing on the front porch with Mitzi and her schnauzer, Lemon and picked up her pace, shutting the gate behind her. She gave a short wave in the direction of the bar, in anticipation of all the shouted greetings.
“Leira!”
“We’ll save you a seat!”
They were used to getting a short nod or a wave most of the time and she secretly liked knowing she could count on the invitation, even if she only took them up on it occasionally. Want to be invited, don’t want to go. Got to find out if something bad has happened.
Leira was worried it was her mother but couldn’t bring herself to call the hospital. Not yet. She wanted to find Correk first.
She burst through the door to find Correk sitting on the couch watching her small TV, wearing some of the sweat pants he bought at Costco, the troll balanced on his knee eating popcorn. Startled, she stopped on the threshold trying to take in the scene. The troll opened his mouth wide, letting out a high-pitched whine.
“You’re letting in the sunlight. It’s glaring off the TV.” Correk looked sheepish as he pressed the pause button on the remote.
“I see you figured out how to work Netflix.”
“It wasn’t hard, and it’s HBO. Game of Thrones is actually quite accurate at times, although we’re not nearly so violent. At least not in the last thousand years. Yes, Queen Saria when left to her own devices can destroy a room…”
“When did I get HBO? You didn’t cast some spell to get that, did you? Never mind!” She held up her hand to stop him from answering. Her face was tight with worry as she shut the door behind her.
The troll frowned, shaking all over, his fur settling back down. He smiled and trilled, turning back to the large bowl of popcorn on the couch next to them. He dove headfirst into it, mouth open, chewing his way toward the bottom.
“I stopped eating it after the first few times he did that.”
“First few?” Leira dropped her purse on the red velvet chair, and went to lock her gun away in the metal lockbox in her bedroom.
Correk got up to follow her. The troll barked sharply.
“Okay, okay, my apologies.” Correk hit play again and the troll settled back into the bowl, his legs crossed, one arm behind his head, throwing popcorn into his mouth. “Don’t get too comfortable,” Correk said, as he followed Leira into her bedroom.
“You’re anxious.”
“Can you feel what I’m feeling? There is no fucking privacy anymore.” The lingering residue of magic was making her cranky.
“I went old school and used a human trick on you. Observation. Your face looks very determined and you’re home early, already pacing. You usually reserve that for later.”
“Funny.” Leira stopped and marshaled her thoughts. “Didn’t you feel that? Come on! Less than an hour ago. Big wave? Felt like…like…” She was clasping her hands, twisting them, trying to find the right words, afraid to say them. “Like something was dying.”
Correk’s expression immediately changed and he stepped closer to her, touching her arm. The remnants of the tremor passed through Leira and into Correk. His face grew serious as he pulled in just enough energy to push out the last traces of darkness.
“Thank God!” Leira finally took in a deep breath, letting it out with a shudder. “I could not shake that. What was it? Was it my mother?” She blurted out the words before she could stop herself.
He regarded her. “How long ago did this happen? When did you first notice it?”
“Why do you suddenly look so concerned? What the hell has happened?” Leira studied his face, feeling herself shift into detective mode, grateful for a familiar feeling. “Tell me what you know.”
It was a moment before Correk replied. “There was a surge of energy that I’ve felt before but only when there is a battle nearby.”
“Impossible,” she shook her head. “I’m with the Austin PD, remember? They would have called everyone in.”
“You’re thinking like a human detective. That’s going to get in your way with this. Combine the two sides of who you are. A magical detective. Use both skills together.”
She eyed him. “You’re magical. Why wouldn’t you have felt it?”
He barely moved his head left, then right. “It’s what I felt when we were at Lavender Rock. You’re far more powerful than almost any other magical being. There’s something different about your DNA.”
“How is that possible?” she continued her questioning. “
How could I not have known all these years?”
“The short answer is that magic relies on feelings, like I’ve told you. You chose to put your feelings away. And I suspect there were clues that you were able to ignore.”
“Like being very lucky,” she drew the last word out.
“Exactly.” He pointed to her. “You were pulling in magic energy against all the odds. But that’s as far as it went. It’s difficult to really advance in magic without a mentor of some kind who can show you how to harness it, direct the flow. You pushed back against it, suppressing your powers. You have to invite magic into whatever you’re doing. Otherwise it waits patiently on the sidelines.”
“Magic’s not douchie. That’s what you’re saying.”
“I refuse to respond to that.”
“Do beings on Oriceran not cuss?”
There was the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth towards a smirk. “No, we prefer to send out fireballs. Makes the point much more efficiently.”
Leira sat back on her bed. “I can feel this power from someplace deep inside. It feels like it comes up through my feet from somewhere else. Somewhere bigger.” She looked up at him. “But where?”
“Where this power is coming from is for another day. I can’t determine that just by transferring some of what you were feeling through me. Besides, that can wait. What matters right now is that what I felt pass through me was not only from a battle, it was laced with very powerful dark magic. Magic that is supposed to not only be outlawed but under lock and key.”
“Protected in the Light Castle.”
“And yet, here it is, being used on Earth, but for what?” He started pacing back and forth. “That pulse you felt was stronger than what you did at Lavender Rock. It may have traveled a great distance.”
“No reports about any disaster, natural or otherwise. They covered it up. Fighting in front of humans is undesirable even for the darker side.”
He stopped pacing and looked over at her. “There you go. Now, you’re using all of your abilities. Two forces went at each other but both had their own reasons for not wanting to be detected.”
“What matters here is the reason why. What would magical beings think was worth the risk of being exposed using dark magic? Even death. I felt death inside of it when it first hit me. I could feel the pain of beings dying.” Leira pushed her fist into her stomach, the memory of the feeling washing over her again.
“I’ve never seen abilities like these,” Correk said, looking at her from top to bottom, shaking his head. The troll barked and laughed from the other room. “He can still feel your emotions but he thinks the flying dragons are funny. Ignore him.”
She drew a breath in, and then blew it out. “I’m not sure what to do next.”
“Focus. Allow the feelings to come to the surface and the information it wants to tell you will just be there. It’s like reading. You feel a lot of impressions, or symbols and you interpret their meaning. Focus. Shut your eyes if you need to.”
Leira closed her eyes. Just let it be. Let it come through me. Lean into it.
“So far, all I’ve got are clichés running through my head.” She opened her eyes in time to see Correk roll his. He looked exasperated. “Stop judging everything. Clichés are fine. Let loose of the controls a little.”
Leira shut her eyes again.
“Relax your shoulders. You’re too tense. It’s not like chasing a criminal. It’s the opposite, in fact. Let the magic do the work. It leads, you follow. Not the other way around.”
“Wait, there’s something familiar here. I can’t quite place it.”
“Let it come to you. Confidence plays a big part in magic, too. The more you believe, the more you’re able to let things happen. The magic knows what to do if you get out of the way.”
“Then why are spells necessary?” Leira opened her eyes again.
“Stop resisting. It’s not your mother, I’m sure of it. We can call the hospital to be sure, if that’s what it takes.” He held up a hand to stop the next question. “Because I was there when your mother reached out. A very distinctive magic trail, similar to yours. I would have recognized it instantly when I pulled the last of the battle energy from you. It’s not your mother.”
“Then who is it?”
“Stop asking so many questions. Find out who it is. We need information. Focus,” he admonished.
Leira lay back against the padded headboard and closed her eyes again. She started counting backwards from one hundred, tricking herself into not thinking quite so much. The energy started to gather around her legs, churning slowly as it spread up her body. Relax into it. Let the magic do its work. Seventy-seven, seventy-six, seventy-five…
Then it happened. It felt like it was flowing through her veins and up her neck, behind her eyes, filling her skull. “The necklace. The necklace is in play.” She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I recognize the magic. You’re right! It came to me!” She stood up, excited. “I could feel it. It was like hearing a familiar voice. You just know it.”
“The necklace. That can’t be good for anyone.” Correk’s forehead wrinkled and concern spread across his face.
The importance of what she had just said came to Leira as she let the excitement of mastering a little more of her magical abilities subside. “The necklace,” she said in a low voice. “Prince Rolim’s powers encased in a crystal.”
“That damnable necklace.” Correk drove his fist into the palm of his hand.
“So, you do get angry.” Leira instantly regretted saying it. “Sorry, I know he was your friend. How do we figure out where this all happened?”
“We’ll need more help.”
“Back to the rock.”
“Correct. But we’ll have to be careful. We’re dealing with something malevolent and large…”
“Which means a group with bad intentions and we don’t know how many or who it is yet. I get it. Trust but verify.”
“There’s a full moon tonight. They’ll be gathering to celebrate it. Magic comes up from the center of the Earth more easily during a full moon. It’s a reason to come together…”
“And party. I heard Toni talking about it. We’ll need to bring a dish. It’s something humans call a potluck. No, Cheetos don’t count. We’ll actually have to make something. Or make Whole Foods make it.”
“Jim said they meet at a place called the Jackalope.”
“Know it well. It’s on 6th Street.”
“He said the owner is a wizard who retired from the Order.”
“Didn’t know that was a thing. I thought once you were in something like that, you were in. You know, Masons for life.”
“He’s still a member but at some point, everyone is allowed to stop serving and go have a life, even if not many take them up on it.”
“You have to change before we go. That’s not a good look on you. Or anyone.”
“I see your kind wearing these everywhere.”
“Which should have been enough of a visual to clue you in why you’re changing before we go out in public. Your pants have to have a zipper, or your olden days pants that lace up. No elastic band. Slippery slope to fatdom, my friend.”
“We take Yumfuck.”
“We take Yumfuck.”
“Someone will have to peel him away from Game of Thrones. He’s only on the second season.”
“You started him on that drug. You break the news to him.”
“It may take a spell to pull him away.”
“You mean me.”
“You rescued him. Still your troll.”
“Hurry up and show me. We need to figure out this puzzle and none of the pieces are coming together fast enough to suit me. That damn necklace is in play again but we don’t know who has it, or where it is now, or if that’s good or bad news. And I want to see if an idea comes up for how to rescue my mother. She can’t be the first magical being trapped in a psych ward.”
“Okay, let’s get the troll and
get out of here.”
“You’re going to love Whole Foods, but you can’t buy anything in there. I can’t afford it. The place should be called whole paycheck.”
“What’s a pay check?”
“Never mind. Come on.”
“You don’t cook at all, do you?”
“I microwave with the best of them.”
“Nice to see you’re not bringing your gun.”
“It’s a potluck and I’m off duty.”
“And you have magic.”
“That crossed my mind. Next thing I want you to show me how to do is make a mean fireball.”
“Of course you do.”
***
Hagan sat on his old red Troy-Bilt riding lawnmower in his backyard on the north side of Austin, firing it up to mow his quarter acre, made smaller by his wife’s flower beds in the back, still blooming in the warm winter sun. He was wearing his favorite old blue jeans that were soft with age and his worn Sperry boat shoes from his canoeing phase years ago. Rose was not fond of the look but tolerated it if he was doing chores around the house.
He pulled his Cubs baseball hat down, securing it firmly on his head and prepared to mow, hurrying to finish before it was dark. His old black poodle watched him from the back porch, his eyes closing despite the noise from the mower.
The sky was purple with ribbons of red in between the clouds.
“Not much longer, better hurry old girl,” he said, steering the tractor into the first pass around the yard.
He mowed a nice straight line, and came back the other way, glancing back at the perfectly straight lines. There’s a certain satisfaction to doing a job right. Leira was right. I don’t need magic. I got this.
He turned and made another pass, working his way toward the back fence, careful to turn before he got to the flowerbeds, leaving a small margin for error that he could cut later with the weed whacker. Back and forth he went, falling into the routine, daydreaming about what he would eat when he was through with the mowing. Maybe make a sandwich. I earned it. This is still physical labor. I had to start the mower. All this vibrating. He could hear Rose telling him no in his head. Maybe just a pickle.
