Marshall Conrad: A Superhero Tale

by Sean Cummings

  I drove in silence, pondering what Ruby had just told me.

  Now that my secret was out, did it mean I’d have to retire? I tried to imagine what my life would be like minus the heroics. It was difficult. I’d been carrying out a near-nightly vigil for over ten years, shutting myself off from the rest of the world, partly to keep a low profile but mostly because the world I saw disgusted me.

  And it was a disgusting place.

  My mother once told me it didn’t matter how much paint you splash on a dilapidated house. If the foundation is rotting and the windows are broken, it’s still a dilapidated house. That’s how I looked at the world, Greenfield was just my little corner of it.

  “How do you do it, Ruby?” I asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Saving people—defending them,” I said. “The world is a shit hole from what I’ve seen, and you’ve been a member of The Guild for over thirty years. How do you reconcile protecting a world that’s rotten to the core?”

  She glanced at me through the corner of her eye and gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “It’s not all rotten,” Ruby said. “Sure, you’ve got your drug peddlers and organized crime, but they’re small potatoes. Hell, half the time they’re killing one another off.”

  “That’s what I mean,” I said. “Crime is everywhere. Murder and rape destroy people’s lives, and for what? Our best efforts don’t stem the flow of corruption and vice.”

  “The world is supposed to be a good place to live, but that doesn’t mean it’s one hundred percent perfect, one hundred percent of the time.”

  “So how do you do it?” I asked.

  “I try to make it better,” she said, forcing a smile. “Not for noble reasons or anything like that. I mean, I’m a realist. All of humanity has a dark side, but that doesn’t mean humanity isn’t worth saving. Besides, I can lift a tank without breaking a sweat. Do you have any idea how bored with a factory job you’d be, knowing that you can bench-press ten tons?”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Know what I think?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “I think losing your fiancée nearly destroyed you. I think this line about the dark side of humanity is just a cover for a whole helluva lot of pain you’ve bottled up inside. If you had some love in your life, you’d probably be less cynical.”

  “Maybe.”

  We drove for another few minutes until we found Stella’s house. I pulled up to the curb and rubbed my eyes, because it was a sight to behold.

  A white picket fence poked out from a huge garden of wild flowers alive with birds and insects. A gabled archway rose over a wrought iron gate that opened onto a small path of flat granite stones leading to a small porch with dozens of wind chimes hanging from the beams. A virtual symphony of harmonic tones filled the air with each small gust of wind as Ruby and I stood at the front door.

  “I bet she’s popular with the neighbors,” I said, looking around.

  “Why? Because her house doesn’t have a manicured lawn or neatly clipped hedges?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Can your criticism and open the door. I have sore feet, and I want to have a nap.”

  “You do it,” I said. “I’ll feel stupid as hell.”

  “Sounds like a personal problem,” Ruby grumbled. “Click your damned heels together or I’ll throw you through the G-D window.”

  I put my hand on the doorknob and exhaled, as I glimpsed at Ruby through the corner of my eye. Her mouth had formed into an amused grin—she was enjoying this.

  “There’s no place like home,” I said, sourly, as I clicked the heels of my sneakers together, making a thumping sound.

  The door made a loud snapping sound and I turned the knob, opening the door.

  As we stepped inside and took off our shoes, I smiled at the quaintness of Stella’s house. I’d been expecting to see a bunch of symbols similar to the ones scrawled on the floor of The Curiosity Nook the night I talked to the rocks. Instead, the main floor consisted of a small hallway that went straight through the middle of the house. To my left was a tiny kitchen, complete with copper pans that hung from hooks above an apartment-sized stove and small refrigerator. To my right was a living room with a widescreen TV, a sofa and a worn Lazy-Boy recliner that tilted slightly to the right. Tribal tapestries covered the walls leading to the second floor, along with a number of old photographs in hardwood frames. At the top of the stairs were two small bedrooms. One had bookshelves on three of the four walls, and I assumed this was Stella’s room.

  I stepped into the bathroom and reached for the light switch but found none. Instead, there was a small oak table with an enormous oval candle that smelled like rose petals. I walked into the other bedroom, searching for a light switch and again, found none.

  “This place is spooky,” I said. “There isn’t a lamp or a light switch anywhere on the second floor.”

  “She doesn’t need them,” said Ruby who was making herself at home on Stella’s bed.

  “How come?”

  “She’s a Sentry Witch. Enchanted candles act as an alarm bell should anything decide to enter our realm.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” I said, leaning in the doorway. “You comfortable?”

  “Yep.”

  “She’s going to kick you out of her bedroom when she gets home, you know.”

  “Yep.”

  “Ruby, is there any part of your personality that isn’t a shit disturber?”

  “Not in my nature,” she said.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and Ruby gave me a dirty look. “You’re not planning to put the moves on me, are you? That would be awkward.”

  “Shut up, Ruby,” I groaned. “I have questions.”

  “Oh God, what do you want to know now?” She rolled her eyes.

  “I want to know why you dabbled in dark magic.”

  Ruby flashed me an angry look and shook her head. “Next topic, please.”

  “I don’t think so. Out with it.”

  She sat up on the bed and reached for her purse, pulling out her pewter flask. She unscrewed the cap and took a larger than normal swig, then gave me a disapproving frown.

  “Because plain old nicey-nice magic bored the hell out of me,” she said. “That, and there was a man.”

  “Go on.”

  “Franklin Kirkpatrick Howard was his name,” she said, a fond smile on her face. “He curled my toes.”

  I leaned in and listened attentively. This was the first time Ruby had ever gotten personal with me.

  Her smile widened. “He was the original bad boy, a defrocked sorcerer—punted out of his order for screwing around with the Big Black Book. We’d been carrying on for a few years, against the wishes of my coven, of course. He wasn’t a bad man, mind you. His interest in dark magic had more to do with increasing his knowledge, rather than a malicious plan or anything like that, and I loved him. God, I did love him so.”

  “What happened?”

  “He summoned a demon one night, or so he thought. Damned thing pulled him into the netherworld, wanted him as a trophy. I fought like a woman possessed. Used every spell I could think of to free Franklin, but it didn’t work. The Demon was too G-D powerful. It could have pulled me in too, but I wasn’t the one who sent for him.”

  Her eyes grew dark and her face took on a solemn look.

  “I had to get him out of there, you see,” she said, in a haunted voice. “Because I loved him.”

  “What happened next?” I asked, softly.

  “I used the Big Black Book and called on a black sprite—they’re the netherworld equivalent of the mafia. He told me the creature that took Franklin was none other than Grim Geoffrey and that I’d have to challenge him to a battle if I wanted to free Franklin. He said I didn’t have a ghost of a chance of winning if I relied exclusively on pure magic, but if I possessed the strength of a Chieftain, I could defeat Grim Geoffrey and save Franklin. This came at a price, of course, but I was you
ng and blinded by love. He’d give me the spell that would turn me into a Chieftain in exchange for my delivering Grim Geoffrey’s head on a platter. So, I made the deal. I transformed myself into a Chieftain using a black spell, and I fought Grim Geoffrey, but it was too late. He killed Franklin during our battle and my coven yanked me out of the netherworld before I could destroy Grim Geoffrey.”

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  “You know the rest of the story,” said Ruby, as she took another swig from the flask. “The reason I said the chickens were coming home to roost is because Grim Geoffrey is back and I’m not exactly a young woman anymore.”

  I fell into a shocked silence for a minute or so. She slid her pewter flask back into her purse and let out a depressing sigh.

  “That’s a helluva story,” I said quietly.

  “That it is,” she said, exhaling. “I have to confess something, though...”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Guild intended to send a Vanguard to work with you, but I convinced them that I should go.”

  I spun my head around and stared at Ruby, stung by her admission.

  “W-What?”

  She slumped her shoulders and twiddled her thumbs as she stared at the floor.

  “Marshall, I am just as nasty a piece of work as Grim Geoffrey. As far as The Guild was concerned, two people had died at the hands of a serial killer and there was a rogue Vanguard who might be the son of Orson Conrad. But I knew the truth. I’d seen those same symbols decades ago. They surrounded Grim Geoffrey’s domain.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I found you because I’d been spying on Stella Weinberg. I knew that the covens had entrusted Stella to keep an eye on you and when the killings began, I realized Grim Geoffrey needed you out of the picture. I figured a novice like you wouldn’t stand a chance against him, but with our combined abilities, we could destroy him. I know that I can never bring Franklin back, but this is my one shot at finally making things right.”

  She slid away from me, as if she was expecting me to explode. Emotions welled up inside me as I tried to make sense of what she’d revealed. I wasn’t angry and I didn’t feel betrayed. Too much had happened in a short span of time for me to lose faith in her. She’d made a dark bargain to save someone she loved, and that was a selfless act. The irony was that it had led to losing not only the man she loved, but her place in the covens and her membership in The Guild. Her interest in Grim Geoffrey wasn’t an act of vengeance. This was about a lonely old woman who’d lost everything that mattered in life, and maybe by helping me, she’d atone for her mistakes and prove to herself that her life meant something.

  I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smiled.

  “I thought I had to learn everything the hard way,” I said, reassuringly. “You’re quite a woman, Ruby Thiessen. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

  “You’re not angry?” she asked in a surprised voice.

  “Not one bit,” I said. “The Solstice is in three days and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have fighting at my side.”

  She smiled warmly, and for a second, I thought tears might well up in her eyes.

  “You know we’re probably going to wind up dead, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Probably,” I said. “Then again, that’s par for the course when you’re saving the world isn’t it?”

  She gave me a mischievous look and smiled. “Yep, par for the course.”

  Chapter 40

  It’s human nature to make peace with your loved ones and to tie up loose ends at the end of life. Psychologists call this the acceptance stage of dying. I didn’t have any family and I had few loose ends in my life, but the events of the last twenty four hours told me I should probably leave a record of events leading up to my confrontation with Grim Geoffrey.

  Stella arrived home from The Curiosity Nook carrying an armful of newspapers and magazines. Ruby was upstairs having a nap as I stretched out on the sofa reading a thick volume called Magic Words and Phrases—A Guide for the Novice Sorcerer.

  “It’s a damned zoo out there,” she puffed, dropping the newspapers on the coffee table. “I passed a convoy of motor homes heading to Scotchman’s Hill and that was before I saw all the media vans.”

  “Scotchman’s Hill, huh?” I asked. “Why there?”

  “Beats me. Maybe because it’s the one place in Greenfield offering a clear view of the sky,” she said. “It seems as good a place as any when you’re looking to win a million dollars from a supermarket tabloid.”

  I sat up on the couch and stretched. It had been a crazy day of magic and revelations that had taken their toll on everyone. I watched Stella disappear into the kitchen, and listened as she put on the kettle. She was a good woman. Both of them were good women, regardless of the secrets they’d kept from me. I looked out the window as the setting sun began disappearing below the horizon. The clouds reflected the last remnants of the day in a beautiful shade of pink and the sound of Stella’s wind chimes filled my ears with a haunting chorus.

  Yes, there were secrets that had led to my meeting Stella and Ruby. Yes, I was going to meet an uncertain fate in less than forty-eight hours. Yes, I would confront a creature whose reputation among creatures in the unseen world was slightly shy of the Devil himself, but it didn’t matter. We were entering tribulation, and Grim Geoffrey was simply the first act in a play that had yet to be written. The cast of characters ranged from slightly eccentric to just plain terrifying. What else was in store for me, should I survive?

  Stella placed a tray with a tea service on a coffee table and switched on the TV. She sat down in her Lazy Boy. It groaned under her weight, and then she started surfing the channels with the remote control.

  “I wonder if there’s anything good on TV tonight?”

  “Somehow I doubt it,” I said. “Haven’t you heard about the discovery of a superhero in Greenfield?”

  “I hear he’s an asshole,” she laughed. “Flies in the face of the great superhero myth about saving damsels in distress, or thwarting the plans of an evil genius.”

  I smiled warmly. “Nah, I heard he is less of an asshole and more of a cranky middle-aged fart.”

  Stella switched to Fox News.

  “This ought to be good,” she said. “We’ll listen to what the network that is solely responsible for reducing America’s collective IQ has to say about you. Ten dollars says they’ll accuse you of being a Liberal and all of this is a hoax.”

  “A miraculous revelation about super beings that live among us, or a terrorist plot?” the host asked in a cynical voice, as the picture from Drudge’s website appeared over his left shoulder.

  “Lovely,” I muttered.

  “We’re talking today with Dr. Roberta Bruce, a national security analyst with the Institute for American Intelligence. Welcome, Dr. Bruce.”

  “Glad to be here,” she said.

  “I have a question,” he said. “Is the mysterious flying man that has everyone in an uproar for real?”

  She nodded.”We’ve analyzed the image from the Drudge website, and from what we can tell, it appears to be the genuine article.”

  “But a flying man? Surely that’s a scientific impossibility.”

  “Not necessarily,” she replied. “You have to remember that terrorist organizations like Al Qaeda have vast networks of both funding and scientific research. It’s an established fact that they’re hard at work trying to develop a nuclear weapon, so it stands to reason they’d be researching an effective delivery method that didn’t include a ballistic missile.”

  “Are you saying the man who saved Marilyn Aldrich is a terrorist?”

  “It would be irresponsible to rule that out. We think it’s a message from Al Qaeda that says, ‘Hey America, look at what we’ve got.’ We also think kidnapping Marilyn Aldrich was just a front for them to unveil their latest weapon against our way of life.”

  Stella changed the channel. “I owe you ten dollars,” she said. �
��Didn’t see that coming...”

  “Won’t they feel stupid if we can’t take out Grim Geoffrey and creatures from the netherworld start running amok,” I joked.

  “Let’s try some local news,” she said, as she switched to Greenfield Newsfirst.

  “Scotchman’s Hill is alive with news media and superhero watchers alike as they scan the evening sky for a glimpse of the mysterious flying man who appeared over the Greenfield County Hospital.” The story cut to an interview with a bearded man wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt. A 35mm camera with a zoom lens hung from his neck.

  “Of course he’s real,” the man said. “Meta-humans have always lived among us, and technology is the number one reason their secret is out.”

  “I think he’s wicked cool, whoever he is,” an inebriated young woman with a Chesterton U sweatshirt purred. “He can save me anytime he wants!”

  I got up from the couch and switched off the TV.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Stella griped. “We were getting to the good stuff.”

  I shook my head. “Yeah, well, you’re not the one accused of terrorism.”

  “It’s going to blow over. America has the attention span of a gnat,” she said. “Don’t forget, this coverage is distracting everyone from what’s really happening.”

  “Yeah. About that,” I said, plopping myself back on the sofa. “I thought we were going to draw out Grim Geoffrey’s host before the solstice.”

  “That’s was the plan, but there isn’t enough time.”

  “Define that,” I said.

  Stella stirred a cup of tea and took a sip. She leaned back into the Lazy Boy and continued stirring her cup. “The spell calls for a precise amount of filtered sunlight at the right intensity,” she said. “The apex of the solstice is nine twenty-six PM—that’s when Grim Geoffrey will emerge from his portal at Delaney Park if your vision is correct. I’ve spent the past three days fashioning a spectral filter the Big Black Book calls for so we’ll be assembling the final ingredients at eight forty-five PM, and casting the spell shortly after that.”