A Little Street Magic

by Gayla Drummond

  A Little Street Magic

  Discord Jones, Volume 6

  Gayla Drummond

  Published by Katarr Kanticles Press, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  A LITTLE STREET MAGIC

  First edition. November 23, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Gayla Drummond.

  Written by Gayla Drummond.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

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  Also By Gayla Drummond

  About the Author

  ONE

  The water was the exact temperature to ensure relaxation, and I felt completely boneless as I floated. Moira’s hand cupping the back of my neck kept me in the center of the small pool, and grounded me in the here and now. She was murmuring an appeal to the ancestors, asking for them to appear to us.

  Not that I was in trouble. It was Sunday, January 6, 2008—a Red Letter day because it was the first Sunday I’d managed to spend with the clan since my adoption ceremony. It had been a good day, filled with fun, food, and plenty of cuddling—mostly with Logan.

  I’d finally had the time to discuss seeing the tiger ancestors with the red-haired shamaness. I’d seen them three times: at my adoption ceremony, during a dream in the Unseelie realm, and again at the Solstice bonfire a couple of weeks before. When Moira said she knew of a way to try to discover what had happened to the White Queen who’d helped me locate Logan, I was all for trying.

  It’d been a little weird, getting naked with another woman, especially one I knew had been naked with the guy I was dating. But she was the clan’s shamaness, and she said the nudity was necessary. She also assured me no one would come peeking.

  We were in a circular cave, the pool smack dab in the middle of its floor. The cave was somewhere in the forest behind Moira’s cute log cabin. If I opened my eyes, I wouldn’t see anything but swirling steam—or maybe it was fog—high overhead. Considering we hadn’t descended any great distance, and there hadn’t been a huge hill aboveground, the cave was a weird place. Then again, that was kind of par for the course when it came to pocket realms.

  Moira paused, then quietly said, “Open your eyes and tell me what you see.”

  It took a few seconds to obey, because even my eyelids were relaxed to the point of not wanting to move. Once opened, I managed to focus and said, “The ancestors are up there, but they’re sitting this time.”

  “Good. You see the empty place?”

  “Yes.” The spectral tigers sat in concentric rings, each bigger than the one inside it. All of them that I could see were staring down at us. “It’s in the inner circle.”

  “That innermost circle is the First Clan,” Moira said. “The clan that all others are descended from. Which means that the missing White Queen is Cerridwen.”

  Not an English name. Irish? But there weren’t tigers in Ireland. Not native ones anyway. I could ask about that later. Bigger fish to fry at the moment. “What do we do now?”

  “We’ll ask her mate where she is. Remember, they’re spirits, and our ancestors.”

  “Yeah, but they’re not my ancestors. I’m adopted.”

  Moira softly chuckled. “They approved your inclusion. They accepted you as one of us.”

  I wanted to ask them why, but maybe it was better not to know. Didn’t really want to learn anything that might ruin my newfound joy in belonging to the clan. “Which one is he?”

  There were ten other tigers in that innermost circle, nine oranges, and one black. I knew the black tiger wouldn’t be the missing Queen’s mate, because black tigers were sterile. He was nearly solid black, having only a few, subtle pale markings. He sat on one side of the empty spot.

  “Matthew,” the shamaness called, and the orange tiger on the empty spot’s other side blinked large, pale gold eyes. She began to greet him, so I took the time to look at the rings of tigers.

  There were more circles than I’d first thought, receding into the outer limits of visibility of the cave’s foggy ceiling. I spotted over a dozen White Queens in the circles I could clearly see, some with black striping, others with brown, orange, or gold striping. There were only three black tigers in those circles. From the one in the First Clan circle to the third in the fourteenth circle, the last I could easily make out, their markings became more noticeable.

  A movement refocused my attention directly above us, and I watched Matthew climbing down invisible rocks. He was gazing intently at me. “What’s he doing?”

  “Telling us where Cerridwen is. It’s all right.” Moira lifted her free hand from the water to touch my arm. I’d relaxed into a starfish shape, arms out, legs apart. Nice and vulnerable. Easy prey for a tiger to rip to shreds.

  “Everything is fine,” she said. “He won’t hurt you.”

  Logan trusted her, and I didn’t have any reason not to trust her as well. Matthew reached us then, and sat beside me, across from Moira. The tiger stayed above the water’s surface, as though it were solid ground for him. He lowered his head, and I met his eyes.

  They were calm and steady. Being that close, I could see the light yellow and green mix that made up the pale gold. The tiger nodded once, and laid a huge front paw on my chest. It was a weird sensation, not any actual pressure, but I definitely knew he was touching me. “She’s stuck inside me. That’s what he’s saying, right?”

  “Her spirit’s within you, but whether or not she’s trapped there is the new question.” Moira let her hand slip away from my arm. “He’s staying calm. That’s a good sign.”

  “Does that mean she’s okay?”

  “This is unfamiliar ground for me, Cordi. Matthew knows her location, and isn’t angry. He’s not upset at all, which I can only interpret as she’s choosing to be where she is, and is fine.”

  The tiger blinked, lifting his paw while looking from me to Moira. His mouth began opening and closing slightly. “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s calling to his Queen. Maybe he can retrieve her.”

  “Okay.” A weird sliding, wiggling sensation occurred inside me. I couldn’t tell if it was in my mind or a real sensation somewhere in my body. “I just felt something.”

  “Painful?”

  “No, weird.” The strange sensation continued, and my body began to tingle. “Now everything’s beginning to tingle.”

  Moira’s hand slid over my bicep again, and her fingers were trembling. Her voice was steady and calm. “Tell me exactly what you’re feeling.”

  “Tingling all over, like my whole body is regaining blood flow. And a,” I hesitated, trying to find just the right description for that sliding, wiggly feeling. “Oh, I know. You know how cats sometimes do the Twist on the floor, on their backs? It’s like there’s a cat inside, doing that.”

  She smiled. “That’s good.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes because it means she’s not in distress. I’d guess it also means sh
e’s not trapped.”

  Well, that was a relief. The White Queen was alive, and not stuck. Or whatever passed for “alive” when it came to spirits. “Then she should be able to leave, right?”

  “Right. When she’s ready. Helping you locate Logan apparently wasn’t her only reason to do this.”

  Matthew quit his silent calling, dropping his head to press his muzzle to the side of my face. He gave my forehead a single lick and turned to begin climbing thin air back to his place in the ancestral circle. I wondered if he’d gotten more solid or something, because I’d felt the caress of fur and the roughness of his tongue instead of vague sensory reactions.

  “Guessing he’s okay with the situation.”

  The shamaness nodded. “Looks that way.”

  We watched him reach his spot, and Matthew silently roared. All the tigers stood up, and began to pace. Their rings slowly condensed into the single circle of tigers I’d originally seen, and after a few more moments, the tiger merry-go-round faded into the fog and out of sight.

  “Wow.”

  “That was interesting. I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.”

  I grinned at Moira. “Are you kidding? We know she’s in one piece and seems to be okay. That’s awesome.”

  My cell phone chose that moment to play the opening bars of “Bells, Books, and Candles”, Damian’s ringtone. Grin fading, I sighed. “Ugh. Duty’s calling.”

  “Sorry about this.”

  Logan glanced at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he fought a smile. “I’ve never seen you this relaxed. Not even when you were asleep. It’s nice.”

  “I can barely walk.” My whole body felt rubbery, and my joints weren’t cooperating.

  Moira had had to help me, from leaving the pool and answering the phone, to drying off, getting dressed, and returning to the main building.

  He’d taken over from there, half-carrying me to his car. We’d left Dane behind to enjoy the rest of the evening with the clan.

  “It’ll wear off; enjoy it while it lasts.”

  How did he know that? “Done some soaking yourself?”

  “Yeah, it’s a good tension reliever.”

  “Yup.” I was not going to ask if he’d been there with Moira. We were officially dating, but we weren’t sleeping together. It wasn’t my business if he’d had a nude soak with her. Shifters got naked around each other all the time. It didn’t mean... I pulled my thoughts up short, aware of Logan glancing at me again.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Nope.” Nothing but my stupid, unnecessary jealousy.

  He braked for a stoplight. “You sure?”

  “Uh huh. Damien said it’s a messy scene. Advance warning: I’m probably going to puke.”

  “That’s why you wanted a bottle of water.”

  “Yeah.”

  Logan changed the subject. “Did you two find out anything?”

  There hadn’t been time to talk about that before leaving. “Yes, we did. She’s still inside me, and seems to be okay. Her name’s Cerridwen. She’s...”

  He interrupted, turning wide eyes my way. “The First Queen? That Cerridwen?”

  I nodded. “The light’s green.”

  “Oh.” Logan turned back to face the road and let off the brake. “The First Queen’s spirit is inside you.”

  “Crazy, huh?”

  “Mind-blowing. I can’t believe I’m important enough that the First Queen would be moved to help you find me.”

  Why wouldn’t he think he was important enough? “Well, now you know you are.”

  “And she’s still here.”

  “Yeah, and why is the big question.”

  He shook his head, shot a quick look at my face, and signaled for a turn. “I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

  “Makes two of us.”

  “It was weird you could see the ancestors, not being a shifter. Now it’s beyond weird that one has set up shop in you. And not just any ancestor, but her.”

  I moved around enough to look at him. “My life has been weird from the second the Melding began. As weird goes, this is on the ‘Cool Weird’ list.”

  “The ‘Cool Weird’ list?”

  “Yeah, it’s the list of stuff that’s not trying to kill me.”

  He laughed. “What’s the other list?”

  “It’s the ‘Not Cool Weird’ list.” I shrugged. “I’m not always original when it comes to naming lists.”

  “I think it does the job. We’re almost there.” Logan hesitated. “Do you feel different?”

  “I don’t think so. She’s been in me for nearly a month now. Didn’t know she was there for sure, until tonight. It did feel strange when she moved.”

  “She moved?”

  We could see the flashing red and blue lights now. “Tell you about it after we’re done here, if you want coffee later?”

  “Sure.” He frowned. “There’s a crowd.”

  “Ugh.”

  TWO

  I’d never figured out why crowds gathered at crime scenes. Especially one on a late Sunday evening, on a street of business buildings, all of which had been closed for hours, if not all day.

  Yet there were a few dozen gawkers crowded around the three strips of yellow crime scene tape stretching out from a shop front. Pettigrew’s Curiosity Shoppe, read the sign over the door in a decorative, old-fashioned script.

  The three uniformed officers watching the line weren’t there just to make certain no one crossed. They were also studying faces, because some criminals got a kick out of sticking around the scenes of their crime.

  A few feet from the crowd of onlookers, I stopped. Logan checked his next step, head turning and one eyebrow rising. “What?”

  I kept my voice low. “I’m going to eavesdrop.”

  He nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The air was chilly enough that I wished I’d thought to bring my gloves. Since I hadn’t, I followed suit and found a peppermint in one pocket of my dark blue pea coat. Then I closed my eyes.

  My telepathic ability was one of those that was always on. I’d first learned to mute the noise of other people’s thoughts to a dull, tolerable buzz in the back of my mind. Thanks to a suggestion from my fairy godfather, Sal—who was actually a real god—I’d recently learned to quiet the buzz even more. I’d built a maze in my mind, and had given each ability I was aware of its own room.

  Since it was my maze, I could take the straight route to open those imaginary doors, but I was beginning to practice visualizing the process. Some of my abilities were pretty scary, so it was my way of increasing my control over them. Once I opened the door, I could hear whispers. I allowed them to grow stronger.

  Poor old man. He was so nice.

  Wonder if the building will be up for sale soon?

  I scowled at the back of the blonde head that thought had come out of. “And they say women are the gentler sex.”

  “What?” Logan edged closer.

  “Nothing important.” I went back to listening. Yup, people were awful. Most of them wanted to see a little gore to liven up their dull lives. They wanted to be able to tell others “I was there. I saw it.”

  If that’s what they wanted, they should spend time in the Barrows before the vampire carnival closed down.

  None of them were thinking guilty thoughts, or satisfied, murderous ones. I sighed and visualized closing the door to my telepathy’s room. “It was worth a shot. Let’s go.”

  We excused ourselves through the crowd until we were at the yellow tape. I dug out my license for the cop. “Discord Jones. Detective Herde called me in.”

  “Yeah. Who’s he?”

  Logan produced his wallet, showing his license. I introduced him. “Logan Sayer, one of my partners.”

  “He didn’t mention two were coming. Hang on.” The cop used his phone to send a text, instead of the mic attached to his uniformed shoulder.

  “I could’ve done that.”

  He shrugged. “Beat you to it.”<
br />
  We put our licenses away. A man a few feet down the line was staring at me. Too intently for my comfort, but all the other gawkers were curious about us as well. A ding signaled the reply on the cop’s cell.

  “Okay, you’re both cleared to enter. Someone will meet you just inside the door.”

  “Thanks.” I ducked under the tape as he lifted it, and hurried across the sidewalk to the shop’s door with Logan a step behind. A bell hanging on the door announced our arrival, and as it shut, Schumacher shoved a box of rubber gloves under my nose.

  “Put these on. Got some cute little booties to go over your shoes too.”

  “Oh, I’ve been fine,” I said, picking out two gloves.

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, same here. Wish we weren’t always meeting at places like this though.”

  I began pulling the gloves on. “That bad?”

  “Did you bring a barf bag?” He put the box on a shelf after Logan took a pair. “You’re going to need it.”

  “No.” The last bit of my rubbery, warm relaxation tucked tail and crawled away whimpering. I looked around, noting the shelves seemed to hold junk, not anything curious. “Man, and it’s been such a great day.”

  “Welcome to my life.” Schumacher grunted, holding out another box. “Booties, kids. It was a back entry job, so no one goes behind the counter without them.”

  I checked the aisle we were on, and saw the waist-high swinging door blocking the break between two glass-fronted counters at its end. About five feet past it, a black curtain hung inside the framed edges of a doorway. “Why did I answer my phone?”

  “You’re an idiot?” Schumacher finally cracked a weary grin. “I answered mine too.”

  “I’m about to add to my nightmare collection, aren’t I?”

  Logan said, “I’ll sit up with you, if you can’t sleep tonight.”

  “Remember you said that.” Shoe coverings in hand, I trudged down the aisle, hoping I didn’t end up vomiting on something important.

  “There’s a wastebasket with a clean liner right behind the counter. It’s on the left. I even threw in some paper towels for you,” Schumacher said.