by Shea Berkley
She would ignore that last bit. “Signe is exhausted and Halim needs to rest.” She held her breath and waited, trying not to show how desperately she needed him to agree.
He did, and Kera couldn’t believe her luck. Reece stared after their friends. “We’ll rest once we’re out of Tharnian territory.” He left no room for discussion.
Kera followed everyone and soon they entered the lower hills where rocks gave way to trees, and the bitter cold to a soft night. Within a sheltered area, they all hunkered down. Kera had every intention of staying awake. Within twenty minutes, everyone should be asleep, and by the time they woke, she would be back, and the sisters would no longer be a problem.
Hide and Go Seek
The gas station stinks like overcooked hot dogs and fuel, a mixture of smells that’s oddly comforting. I’ve moved so much over the years, I know the basic layout of nearly every convenience store chain, a staple in Mom’s stop-and-go tactics. Leo dashes into the toilet area as I prowl the aisles, snagging snacks and a few cold drinks.
Leo stumbles from the toilet grimacing. “Why is there no soap?” He approaches the cashier. “I know you’ll probably never see me again, but come on, bro, soap is a human necessity after using the toilet. Unless this area has toxic waste in the water that’ll strip nasty germs off my hands, I need soap.”
The guy stares blankly at Leo and says, “Maybe you shouldn’t pee on your hands.”
“Cute.” Poor Leo’s happy scale takes a big dip. “I’m not going to point,” Leo mutters and slides his gaze toward a big guy wearing dirty jeans and a flannel shirt, “but I’m pretty sure some of your customers have sanitary issues. I’ll take a wipey…anything that’ll annihilate whatever you have growing in there.”
The cashier tugs out a tissue from a box near the cash register and holds it out to him. “Spit and wipe. That’s what us fancy boys do around here.”
“Really?” Leo looks disgusted.
The guy starts to pull the tissue away. “If you don’t want it…”
Leo snatches it from the guy and spits and wipes his fingers off. He glances at me and I toss him a bottle of sanitizer. “I’ve got your back, dude.”
“You going to pay for that?” the cashier says as Leo squirts a handful into his palm and vigorously rubs his hands together as he makes his way outside.
“What do you think?” I say and step in line behind flannel shirt dude. When it’s just me and the cashier in the store, I suggest the cashier let me fill up the car and use his own money to pay for it and everything I’m holding. I’ve been practicing Kera’s trick, and I’m happy to say it works like a charm…on most people.
The blank stare doesn’t change, but he rings everything up and digs out his own wallet. After paying, he hands me the receipt. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Nope. You’ve been very helpful.”
When I get to the car, Leo frowns at me as though I’m some pest he has to control. “You stole it?”
“Why do you say that?”
He points to my wallet lying conspicuously on the dashboard where I’d tossed it.
I shove the receipt at him. “Paid for.” No need to tell him exactly how. “Can we pump and go already?”
Leo handles the pump and starts to fill up. “In a rush?”
“Yeah.” I lean against the car, though far from relaxed. Ever since Grandma dropped the bomb about Mom having the magic, I’ve been more than dreading our reunion. Every scenario I imagine explodes into chaos. Cooperation is definitely a nasty word in Mom’s vocabulary unless it leads to her getting what she wants. Mom does not believe in compromise for the good of others. “This was supposed to take a couple of hours. Now we’ll be gone days.”
He bobs his head and slants me a quick glance. “You know what’s funny? I’m kinda looking forward to meeting your mom.”
I frown and push off the car. “That’s not funny.”
Slipping back into my seat, I try not to get angry at Leo. I could easily let the stress of wondering which crazy hat Mom will be wearing when we catch up with her take over. I prepare myself for the worst. It’s easier that way.
Leo gets in. “You good to go?”
Even though the car is new, I make sure all the windows are rolled down so I won’t get metal poisoning, and then give him a thumbs-up sign.
Interstate 5 is a long stretch of road, one where we entertain ourselves with “what song am I humming really badly” and a debate on whether or not the San Andreas Fault will crack open and plunge most of California into the Pacific. I say no. Leo is adamant it will happen in his lifetime.
Sadly, Willow Creek is one of those typical small towns that lies in the shadows of the Sierra Nevadas no one would notice if it did disappear. I’ve lived in half a dozen towns just like it. As we roll through the handful of streets, the crowds are pretty thick, marking it as a vacation town: skiing and snowboarding in the winter, kayaking and hiking in the summer.
There’s a familiar rhythm to life in a small town. Everything is compact, but Willow Creek has more going for it than most. It sits near a cluster of other small towns and they all feed off one another, making it a bit of a group living experience. Nothing at all like the West Texas expanse that had me wondering if the rest of the world even existed.
“Wow, it’s a really clean town.” Leo slowly drives down Main Street. The place looks like something out of a Hallmark movie where everyone has a compulsive cleaning disorder. “What kind of trouble did your mom get into around here to land her in jail?”
“Don’t know. But she’s an expert at avoiding speeding tickets.”
We pull into a parking space and get out. It’s near dinnertime and my stomach is tight. Still, all I can think about is finding Mom. I hear Leo’s stomach rumble, reach in, and grab a four-pack of powdered doughnuts and toss them his way. As he rips into the packaging, I look up and down the street. Signs for some kind of festival wave in the breeze.
Leo points a powdery finger down the street. “Cop on horseback.”
It’s a start. We make our way through the crowd, and I notice people staring at us. I’m not sure why. I mention it to Leo.
“Bro, I know you being you, it never occurs to you to really look around, but I’m the only guy with even a hint of color around here. In fact it’s so white around here, my eyes hurt.” He holds up the last of his doughnuts and gazes through it at people. Wherever his eye lands, the person suddenly looks away. “I’m automatic trouble to them and since you’re with me, you are too.”
I hadn’t noticed the stares, but the cop does. He nudges his horse toward us. The big animal circles us before the cop pulls to a halt. A big, overly curious smile flashes. “How you boys doing?”
“Fine.” I try to act normal even though I feel anything but normal with everyone staring at us. “I’m actually here to find my mom. She was picked up the other day—”
“On assault charges,” Leo adds helpfully as he licks the powdered sugar off his fingers.
I slant him a look that sends a clear signal to shut up and say, “But then you released her.”
The cop crosses his arms over the saddle pommel and leans forward. “You talking about Addison Kennedy?”
I nod. Figures Mom made an impression. She usually does one way or another.
He gives me the once-over. “No way she has a son your age.”
“Yeah.” I try to ignore my rising irritation. “That’s what everyone says, but surprise, she does. Do you know where we can find her?”
“Sorry, kid. Augustus Allen paid her fine and that’s the last I saw of her.”
“Who’s Augustus Allen?” Leo asks.
He doesn’t look at Leo, only keeps his eyes on me like I’m some kind of criminal mastermind about ready to pull the heist of the century, and fidgets with the reins between his fingers. “The man she assaulted. Can you believe that?”
Yes. Yes, I can. Mom’s pretty slick when she wants to be. “Is she still with him?” It’d be a
miracle if she were.
“Who knows?” The cop straightens and points behind him. “Auggie has a place on the corner of Third and Firehouse Road called Fisted Ink Tattoos.” His gaze travels the crowd and says, “I’ll be all sorts of happy if your mom isn’t there, but if she is, I’d be even happier if you collected her and left. We’re a quiet town and your mom”—his gaze falls back on me—“well…she’s not the quiet type.”
He isn’t telling me anything new. I rub the ache and tic that’s attacking my jaw. “Thanks, and I’m sorry for any trouble she’s caused.”
“Don’t take this wrong, kid, but if I were you, I’d take your friend, find your mom, and move along as quickly as possible. There are some folks here who don’t get along with strangers, and I don’t need any trouble.”
“Not fond of trouble myself,” Leo pipes up. “We’ll be out of here before you know it.”
“See that it happens.” The cop’s lips thin and he nudges his horse with his heels. “On with you, Raisin.”
The horse gently moves through the crowd and away from us.
I look to Leo. “Aren’t small towns supposed to be friendly?”
“Not to sons and friends of criminals. Hey, bro, at least he was up-front with us.”
We get back to the car and find someone has keyed the driver’s side from bumper to bumper. Leo runs his fingers along the scratch. “Poor thing. What did they do to you? Did you see this, Dylan?”
“Forget about it,” I snap and wrench open the car door. This town may look nice, but at its heart it’s meaner than mean. “Let’s find Mom and go.”
Leo grumbles over the scratch as he gets in the car and we slowly inch our way down the street and turn left on Firehouse Road. Three stop signs later, we’re at the corner of Third and Firehouse Lane and staring at the brightly colored sign for Fisted Ink Tattoos. In the window a sign advertises that as well as inking tattoos, Augustus is qualified to remove them. Smart move. We park and go inside.
A buzzer sounds throughout the salon when we walk in. The place is clean, but there’s damage to a nearby wall and ink is splattered on the floor, the walls, and the ceiling near the tattoo chair. It had to be the work of Mom. She knows how to rip a place apart in no time flat. We stand there looking around until a big man in a cowboy hat, boots, and a silver belt buckle in the shape of a large fist lumbers into view. “Are you two lost?”
Leo and I exchange questioning looks, and I turn back to the man. “Are you Augustus Allen?”
“I am.” He puts his hands on his hips in a way that gobbles up half the space in the room.
The guy has the look of a barroom brawler, but I hold my ground. “I’m Dylan Kennedy. I’m looking for Addison Kennedy. We were told she was here.”
“What are you, her brother?”
“Her son.”
He laughs. “No shit. Well, she’s not here, sonny boy, and I’m not sorry she left.” He takes a big breath, filling his lungs for the tongue-lashing I’m about to endure. I wish I could say this is new to me, but it’s not. “Your mom is one crazy chick. She comes in with some sob story about this tat she has and can I please remove it. It was stubborn, but for three weeks, once a week, I fade it. Looked pretty good, too. Then a couple of days ago, she comes tripping in here all high on God knows what and demands her money back. Shows me the tat is still visible. Actually getting darker. She says I didn’t do it right. What am I supposed to do? Skin her? I told her that was one hell of a tat. Deeper than most. That it didn’t come off clean…how’s that my fault?”
Mom has one tattoo. A black-and-white dragon that flows over her right hip and down her stomach. A guy she used to date called it a “come and get it” tattoo. I never did like that guy. I always thought the tattoo was cool-looking, stylized with sweeping strokes and a lot of detail.
“Then I’m thinking, I’m getting scammed. Tats don’t get darker after I lighten them. I accuse her of putting a little permanent marker to it and she goes off on me, throwing shit around, hitting me…” He waves his hand to the damage surrounding us. “So I call the cops.”
“But you bailed her out,” I remind him.
“Yeah, well, I ain’t heartless, not after I seen where she was living, out of her car over at the park. I’ve been down on my luck before. Took me ten years to clean up my act. So I gave her a break. I brought her back here. We had a little fun, then she rolled me and hightailed it out of here.”
First she steals from Grandpa and now this guy? She’s never been this stupid. What’s wrong with her? “How much?”
“I don’t know how she got into my safe, but she took fifty-three hundred dollars, a few collectors’ coins worth a couple hundred each, and a gold nugget I found when I was ten. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. That nugget was my childhood, man. My luck. Without it, I feel…”
He stops speaking, unable to find the right word.
“Vulnerable,” Leo offers.
His anger softens and he nods. “Yeah.”
I pull out my wallet and hand him the cash Grandma gave me. “I don’t know how much it is, but it’s all I have.”
He looks from me to Leo and down at the money in my outstretched hand. “I could take that from you, but I won’t. I’m pissed, but it’s at your mom. Not you. Some of us got a raw deal when it comes to parents. So…keep it.”
“Do you know where she went?”
He lets out a deep snort. “Sin City. That’s all she talked about when I was running the laser over her hip bone.”
Mom in Las Vegas? That doesn’t sound like a good idea. “Thanks.” I stuff the money back into my wallet and shove it in my back pocket again. “I don’t know what to say except…I’m sorry. She’s got problems.”
“Don’t we all?”
I close my eyes and search for what I want. Leo nudges me after I stand there, motionless, breathless, as though I’ve forgotten where I am and what to do. “Dylan. We got to go.”
My eyes pop open. “Yeah.” I catch Augustus’s eye. “Thanks again.”
When we get back into the car, Leo turns to me. “You did something, didn’t you? That’s why you just stood there imitating a statue. It was weird, bro. Just saying.”
“I had to give him something.”
“What’d you do?”
“I found a deep vein of gold running under his business and pulled a chunk to the surface near the edge of his car’s front tire.”
As we back into the street, Leo cranes his neck until he sees a huge chunk of gold beside the front tire of Augustus’s car. That form of magic, the one where I only have to think it and it happens, still surprises me. The more I use it, the better it works.
Leo leans back and drives on, shaking his head. “Just a nugget? I’ve got news for you, that’s a stinking big rock.”
“A fist-sized one, actually. I thought it was fitting.”
Leo points the car toward the two-lane road leading out of Willow Creek and toward the interstate. “I hope he finds it.”
“I made sure only he will.”
Leo puckers his lips and nods as we roll out of town. “Well played.”
It’s the least I can do to fix the damage Mom has caused.
We drive all night, snacking on junk food and listening to really loud music. Leo’s downing energy drinks like water, and I’m beating out a rhythm on the dashboard. Three o’clock in the morning, we hit a patch of Nevada desert that stretches out in front of us cool and dry and black as pitch. I lay out in the backseat for a nap in a desperate bid to dream-share with Mom, but I’m locked out like a kid trying to sneak back into the house in the middle of the night. After a while, I give up and climb back into the front seat next to Leo.
“No luck?”
“Not even a little peek. I guess she’s still awake.”
“How’re we going to find her?”
I pop a couple of gummy bears in my mouth. “I’ve got an idea. But if it fails, all we have to do is follow the sirens. Mom’s good at causing ch
aos. Trust me, she’ll be in the middle of it.”
I stare out into the vast darkness, the bright lights of Las Vegas coloring the sky on the horizon, drawing us to it like moths to a flame. “We’ll find her.”
And I had no doubt we’d find our share of trouble, too.
Neon Lights and Nasty Fights
What does it say about luxury hotels that you can get nearly anything if you have enough money? Add magic to the mix and there is no limit. Dressed in a magically enhanced version of Armani, because if you’re going to pretend to be a playboy and his equally rich friend, you’d better look the part, we walk in at four in the morning and by four ten we’re in a private elevator going up. By four fifteen we’re in a three-thousand-a-night suite that sits high above the garish and noisy Vegas strip like a high-class call girl, all pretty and shiny and full of outrageous promises, but in the end she’s only interested in money.
I send Leo downstairs, and when he gets back, he doesn’t look happy. “Bro, when you said you had an idea, I didn’t think it would involve me propositioning some big gnarly dude working in the lobby to come to our room.”
He sweeps his dark hair out of his face and paces the large entry of our newly acquired penthouse suite. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I should’ve picked the wimpy one with the crooked glasses.”
“It’ll be fine.” I wish my confidence would infect him. His pacing is making me nervous.
There’s a basket of complimentary fruit on the entry table. I’ve always wanted to stay in a hotel that has a basket of free fruit waiting for me. Snagging a plump pear, I take a bite as I work my way around the room and stop at the wall of windows. Las Vegas, cloaked in its famous colorful neon lights, stretches out in all directions. My whole life I’ve wanted to be in the big city. To feel the hum of activity. Now that I’m here, all I want is to go home. Back to Oregon. Back to Kera. It’s a little disturbing how much I miss her. But the only way I can see her again is to track down Mom and the magic she holds.
“When did he say he’d be here?” Time is ticking and I want this over.
“As soon as he can, which probably means he’s getting a handful of his even bigger friends to come mess us up and steal us blind.”
