“That would be fun!” Nika said, smiling. “Mark goes to work, comes home, eats dinner and then helps me decorate.”
“Are you not moved in yet?”
“Almost there,” Nika said. “Still some work left to do in the basement, then we’ll be set.”
“Cool,” Sarah said. “Take a night off with Mike and me. We’ll go someplace fancy. Dress up and stuff. Maybe over in Bell Plains! It will be a small road trip, a nice dinner, maybe we’ll get on the Ferris Wheel! What do you think?”
Nika nodded. “Sounds good to me! When do you want to go?”
“Let’s do it tonight!” Sarah said. “Why wait? I know Mike won’t mind not cooking.”
“I’m sure I can talk Mark into an evening out. He’s been working so hard at his new job.”
Sarah clapped, like a little girl served a second piece of birthday cake. “Does Mark like French food?”
Nika shrugged. “He likes French fries.”
“Close enough! What time does Mark get home?”
“Usually around six.”
Sarah nodded. “Then we will pick you up at seven and go out on the town.”
“That sounds fun! I’m looking forward to it,” Nika said, already thinking about what dress to wear. “This is a great idea. I like this idea.”
***
“That was a terrible idea,” Mark said. “An absolutely awful idea. I’m not mad at you, Nika, but for crying out loud, that was one of the worst experiences I have ever had.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” Nika said. “I had no way of knowing it was going to be like that.”
“I’m not mad at you, either,” Mark told the cab driver. “I just can’t believe it’s a hundred-and-fifty-dollar cab ride from Bell Plains to Elders Keep.”
The cabbie shrugged.
“It’s just a hell of a lot of money for a cab ride.”
The cabbie shrugged again.
“And we didn’t even get dinner out of it,” Mark said.
“I can stop somewhere if you’re hungry,” the cabbie said.
“And spend more money?” Mark asked.
“Honey, calm down,” Nika said, patting his arm. “We have the money, it’s fine.”
“See, buddy?” the cabbie said. “It’s fine. Your wife says so.”
“Why are you in this conversation, dude?” Mark asked.
The man chuckled. “You talked to me first, man,” he said. “I can stop, if you like. But it’s a dark road, and the Keep is still a ways off.”
“It’s fine, driver,” Nika said. “Keep going.”
Nika composed herself, and squeezed Mark’s hand. “Honey, I’m sorry I got us into this mess. It’s my fault. I didn’t know my friend was psychotic.”
“Well, I didn’t figure you did,” Mark said. “Let’s just chalk this one up to experience. But maybe we should reconsider living in the Keep. Our subdivision might be empty for a reason, you know? People don’t seem as crazy in Bell Plains.”
“Oh, but we just bought the house,” Nika said. “I don’t want to go anywhere for at least two years. I haven’t had a chance to plant a garden yet.”
“All right,” Mark said. “It’s just a thought.”
“I wouldn’t live in the Keep,” the cabbie chimed in. “Most of my guys won’t even drive there, no, sir. Did you know a few months ago, they found a guy and his wife inside their house, dead, and they had been eaten by spiders? Hundreds and thousands of poisonous spiders. Nobody knows where they came from. They had to burn the house down and re-burn the ashes just to make sure all the little fuckers were dead. Something about introducing a new species into a closed biosphere. But still! Can you imagine? Getting bit and bit until you were paralyzed and then wrapped up in a cocoon and your skin turns into soup and it’s just all those little legs, those little skittery, hairy legs, man. I wonder how long they stayed alive?”
“Would you just drive, please?” Nika said. The driver put both hands back on the wheel and muttered softly to himself about how being eaten from the inside by baby spiders must be one of the worst ways to go.
“Urban legends, man,” Mark said. “They’re everywhere. Look, baby. We’ve got some red wine at the house, right?”
Nika nodded.
“We’ll go home, get a pizza delivered and watch some shitty old television shows for a while. We’ll camp out. Get naked in the living room, lay under a sheet? Sound good?”
Nika inched closer to him, smiling. “Sounds wonderful.” They kissed, eyes closed, neither one of them noticing the remains of a burnt-out house on the side of the road. The driver would have pointed it out, but hey. Customer wants it quiet, customer gets it quiet.
***
Even though they were tired, Mark and Nika stayed up late. Mark pulled two of the kitchen chairs into the living room, and Nika draped a sheet over them, making a tent. They sat beneath it, naked, the television a hazy light through the thin fabric.
“I feel like I should be watching cartoons and eating cereal,” Nika said.
“We can watch cartoons and eat pizza,” Mark said. “It’s the modern age, baby. Twenty-four hour news coverage and cartoons all the time. Also, people bring you food, if you pay them enough money.” He gestured to the pizza box on the floor between them. “It’s a brave new world, baby.”
Nika laid her head on Mark’s shoulder. One of the things she loved about him was his way of turning around lousy situations. Anyone else would have let the failed double date ruin the evening, but not Mark. He channeled his frustration into a whole new plan. Pizza and a tent in the living room? It was like being a child again, but with all the privileges and fun parts of being an adult. She moved in closer to him, smelling him, fabric softener, fading deodorant and a faint hint of clean sweat. Full of Italian food and red wine, and with Mark’s hand stirring between her legs, Nika let the double date fiasco drift from her mind.
Of course, everything was going to be all right. She would find new friends, ones who weren’t insane. She had her husband, her best friend, whom she loved desperately. They were out of Atlanta, out of that lousy apartment and into a real home, a place where it was safe to make plans or paint the walls or sit on the living room floor without worrying about the downstairs neighbors listening to every noise she made.
And she was making noises, there under the soft gauzy bedsheet, as Mark’s fingers played a bass solo on her G-Spot. He had played in a rock band in high school and never lost his rhythm. Her buzz from the red wine was still pretty heavy, and Nika loved everything. She loved Tennessee, despite their heavy reliance on orange clothing. She loved Elders Keep, the weird little town she was determined to embrace and call her own. She loved Mark, her delightful husband who could do anything, as long as he kept doing what he was doing to her right then, those subtle movements which were causing spasms in her root chakra and she was so happy, complete, and she loved everything so much that when the living room window exploded inward a couple feet away from her face, she wasn’t sure how to react.
“What the fuck was that?” Mark bellowed. He stood up, the sheet rising around his shoulders.
“What’s going on?” Nika murmured.
“Baby, go into the kitchen and call the sheriff,” Mark said. “Don’t come out this way. There’s glass everywhere.”
“What happened?” Her haze disappeared in a heartbeat, and she was racing towards a panicked state.
Mark looked down at the carpet, covered with shards of glittering glass. The chilly evening breeze whistled through the window frame. In the shifting light of the television, Mark could see the solid outline of a brick lying in the floor.
“Someone just gave us a housewarming present,” he said.
***
Nika called the cops, then she and Mark went into the bedroom to put on clothes. Even though she knew the sub-division was basically empty, she pulled the blinds shut anyway. Someone might still be outside, lurking, watching. Mark pulled on a pair of ratty lounge pants and an old T-shirt.
“What do you know about crime scene preservation?” she laughed.
“I know enough to know you need to do it,” Mark replied. “Besides, there’s glass everywhere. Please don’t cut yourself.”
“Fine,” she said. “We’ll just stay in the kitchen and wait. The sheriff said he would come in through the back door anyway.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Wonder why that is?”
“I’m assuming it’s so he doesn’t screw up the crime scene,” she said.
Mark nodded. “I knew that.” He walked out of the bedroom and down the hallway, right as the sheriff’s car pulled up in the driveway. Red and blue light played off the walls, illuminating the entire living room. A moment later there was a sharp knocking at the back door.
“Cops are here, babe,” Mark called.
***
The sheriff was a tall guy, with tremendous shoulders. He looked like he could beat the hell out of the devil, but there was something about his eyes, smile lines and almost visible memories that made him seem more sad than threatening. Introductions were made. Nika offered to make some coffee and the sheriff accepted with genuine graciousness.
The sheriff’s deputy came inside as well, and so did a couple of crime lab types who began vacuuming the glass out of the carpet.
“They’re collecting it for evidence,” Deputy Moon said.
“You think someone might have touched the window before they threw the brick through it?” Mark asked.
“Maybe,” Kevin shrugged. “You know how kids will press their face against a store door, something like that? It’s possible whoever did this looked into your front window to see if you were home. Might get a print off it.”
“Makes sense,” Mark said.
Nika warmed up Deputy Moon’s coffee, and put the coffee pot back on the warming plate. “So, what’s up with the sheriff?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Deputy Moon asked.
“He doesn’t seem like a cop,” Nika said. “And why does he wear that glove?”
“You’re very observant,” Deputy Moon told her. “It’s not something he likes to talk about, Mrs. Pendleton. But I’ll tell you, confidentially.”
Nika moved closer to the deputy. She liked secrets, and fancied herself quite good at keeping them.
“See, thing is, Sheriff Strahan never quite got over Michael Jackson’s passing. It hit him hard. He had all the albums, knew how to moonwalk, the whole thing.”
“Really?”
“He was devastated when they told him he couldn’t wear his sequined jacket on the job. He said he thought it would help children be less afraid of the police.”
Nika stared levelly at Deputy Moon. “You’re joking with me.”
“I have an odd sense of humor,” Moon said. “I didn’t always. But after working with the sheriff for a little over a year, that changed. I think it had to. I couldn’t have kept working with him if it hadn’t. The sheriff can be a little… dark.”
“But, really,” Nika said. “Why the glove?”
“No idea,” Deputy Moon. “He never talks about it.”
The sheriff came back into the kitchen with the brick in a plastic bag. He explained that there were some numbers on it that were probably some kind of Biblical reference. He would have to do some research to figure out what the message meant.
After that, the deputy left to get some heavy duty plastic to cover up the hole in the front window. He brought back a nail gun, too, and the men left Nika inside while they patched up the outside. Alone.
It wasn’t until everyone else was outside that the events of the evening began to sink in. Nika sat on the couch and pulled the sheet they had been using as a tent around her. She backed up against the arm of the couch, pulled her knees up to her chin and stared at the men outside through the layer of cloudy plastic they were nailing into place. It was flimsy, but then again, two hours ago, she had thought glass was strong.
Attacked in a deserted sub-division. Absolutely senseless. Nika briefly wrestled with the concept of safety being an illusion before sleep washed over her.
***
She woke up with a stiff neck and a slight headache. There was a smell of strong coffee in the air, though, and the mild vanilla scent of pancakes floated just under it. She slowly swung her legs over the edge of the couch and stood up. “Mark?” she called.
Mark came around the corner with a steaming mug of Fair Trade coffee in his hands. “Good morning, sweetness,” he said. “I took the day off work.”
Coffee or not, Nika was furious. “You let me sleep on the couch? By the big fucking hole in the living room? Could I have been any more unsafe? Why didn’t you just dump me in the fucking front garden bed?”
Mark pointed at the end of the couch. “Look,” he said.
Nika did, and at the end of the couch by her feet lay Mark’s two bed pillows.
“I didn’t get much sleep,” he said. “Every time the wind blew across the plastic, it was such a weird noise. Kept me up. But you were exhausted and it seemed stupid to wake you up just so you could go back to sleep. I just crashed out here with you.”
“What time is it?” Nika asked.
“Around ten,” Mark said. “Would you mind taking this coffee? It’s burning my hand.”
Nika scooted off the couch and took the mug from Mark’s hand. He sniffed the air, and then hurried back into the kitchen. “And I’m burning your pancakes!”
Nika giggled and followed him, taking a seat at their two week old kitchen table. Mark was cute when he cooked, stomping about the cooking space like he knew what he was doing. He would mumble at the pans and sweat. It was like watching a kid with a broken arm attempt to make a special treat for Mother’s Day.
Finally, Mark was able to plate three pancakes that weren’t burnt beyond recognition. He got some butter out of the refrigerator and put it on the table. Then he opened one cabinet, then another, then another. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the cabinets. “There’s no syrup. Goddammit. All this and no fucking syrup.” He closed a cabinet door, snorted, then punched it.
“Mark!” Nika came down off her chair and went to her husband’s side.
“It’s the simple things, you know?” Mark said. “Going to sleep. Making a decent breakfast, you know, without forgetting the fucking syrup. Keeping your wife safe in her brand new fucking house. You know, just easy shit, things you do without even thinking about them. And suddenly none of it makes sense, and it all seems incredibly fucking difficult, and I feel hamstrung, Nika. I feel helpless, and we’re in a fucking blast zone! There’s no one else here! I mean, we can’t really blame it on neighborhood kids. There aren’t any! It’s ridiculous!”
Nika slid around behind him, put her arms around him and squeezed. “I’m okay,” she said. “I am. I’m okay, you’re okay and everything is going to be fine. We’ll fix what’s broken and we will carry on from there. Okay? Together. We’ll do it together.”
Mark hung his head and breathed deeply until he was calm. It took a couple minutes. He wasn’t normally one to hit things, and he was a little embarrassed by his outburst. Also, his hand hurt from the impact.
“Feel better, big man?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “A little. Go on. Eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold. I think there’s some apple butter in the refrigerator. That would be good instead of syrup.”
She kissed his shoulder with a loud smack. “I agree!” she said, and opened the refrigerator door to find the apple butter.
There were three sharp knocks on the front door. Nika’s brow furrowed. “Are you expecting someone, Mark?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah!” Mark said. “Before I attempted to make breakfast, I called a glass company for an estimate. I know the plastic curtains are fashionable, but I thought we could get a real window anyway.” He jogged into the living room while Nika
ate her pancakes.
The man on the front step had a peanut butter tan and a perpetual squint. He smiled when Mark opened the door. “Hey, buddy!” he said. “Looks like you need a new window.”
“What was your first clue?” Mark asked.
The man chuckled and stuck out his hand. “Tommy Clark from Tommy’s Glass. You Mr. Pendleton?”
Mark shook the man’s hand. “Yes, sir. Good to meet you.”
Tommy motioned towards the shattered front window. “Is this the only injured party?”
“Yeah, somebody heaved a brick through it.”
Tommy whistled through his teeth. “Shit! We don’t get that around here often at all. Usually, somebody gets hammered during a ball game or the ‘rasslin and accidentally falls through the window into the front bushes.”
“Does that happen a lot?” Mark asked.
Tommy spat on the steps. “Oh, son,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t,” Mark mumbled.
“Hey, Rafferty!” Tommy yelled. “Let’s get to measuring!”
A man climbed out of Tommy’s work truck with a measuring tape. He was wearing a sleeveless denim shirt and jeans with holes and the knees. Mark noticed a tattoo on the man’s arm, still dark, relatively new. It was the face of a man Mark didn’t recognize.
“You can go on back in, Mr. Pendleton,” Tommy said. “Rafferty and I will get this whole thing figured in a few minutes.”
“All right, then,” Mark said, and went back inside.
Nika was finishing up her plate, but she looked up at Mark. “He sounded friendly,” she said, her mouth full.
“Yeah, he’s friendly,” Mark said. “Guy he’s working with is a bit of a lunk, but Tommy seems okay. You may want to put on some more clothes, though.”
“Well, aren’t we provincial this morning?” Nika said.
“I’m having a delicate morning, Nika,” he said. “Can you just do this one tiny thing without it pricking your sensitive feminist interests, which I normally fully respect and support?”
Hunting Witches Page 5
