by Mel Todd
She glanced at the camera, sighed again, and stood. "Come on. Let's finish this in my office. The smoke is giving me a headache."
Standing took me a second as my knees trembled. She waited at the door, holding it open for me. As we walked out, she waved at another officer. "Go check on that camera. I want to know why it exploded."
The officer smirked at me. "Catastrophe Cori struck again?"
"No such thing, just crap made in China. Get it taken care of. Come on, Cori. I'm sure you'd like to get back to work." Laurel turned and headed down the hall at a quick pace, annoyance in her every step.
I nodded, silently following her. The nickname usually made me smile, mostly because it was accurate. Things happened around me. The urge to scratch my head gnawed at me, but I followed, still unsure as to the whole reason I was here. I needed to quit reporting dead bodies if they were going to think I had anything to do with their deaths.
She went into her office, dropping into her chair with a sigh. "Sit, Cori. You don't need a lawyer. You're not in trouble."
I didn't particularly believe her, I mean she had dragged me into the police station, but I sat in the chair and looked at her warily.
"Do you know any reason why a private investigator from New York would have your name, or a variation of it, in his wallet?"
My jaw dropped back down.
She snorted. "I'll take that as a no."
"Wait, what?" There were so many things in her question it took me a bit to unpack them. "Private investigator? My name? Variation?"
She pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it over to me. On it was a photocopy of something that looked like a sticky note in a baggie. Written in blocky letters was a name, my name, well kinda. It was spelled with a K, not a C and the last name was spelled different.
Kory Monroe.
"That isn't my name," I pointed out. It was a lame comment, I knew that, but it still freaked me out. Because it sounded like my name if you said it.
"Which is why I asked. You don't know of any reason someone might be looking for you?"
Without conscious thought, my head was shaking back and forth. "No, ma'am." My snark was all gone. I'd lived here most of my life. My parents lived here. Everyone knew me and my oddities. So why would someone have my name in their pocket?
"I figured as much. Okay. You need a ride back to work?"
They'd taken my phone, but my watch told me it was after noon. Kadia and Molly would be dying. Both of curiosity and worry.
"Yes, please, ma'am."
She waved me out of the office and fifteen minutes later I was in the back of a squad car, again, being driven to work.
"Just drop me a block or so away?" I asked from the back. I got a grunt of agreement as a response, but I didn't care. I had my phone back and I needed to call Jo.
The cop let me out at the corner. There was a small green space and a bench, and I dropped on it, hitting the first name in my favorites list, Jo-Jo Guz.
As it rang, I sat on the bench watching cars going by, but all I could do was try to figure out why anyone would be looking for me. And I failed completely.
"Yo, Cori. What up?" Jo's bright voice, with the lilt of Spanish still in it and the background of power tools whirling. A bit younger than me, Jo planned on working in her dad's shop until she reached twenty-four or emerged. I'd been the oldest kid in my high school class; missing a year of school does that. But in nine months she'd be twenty-one. If you turned twenty-four without emerging, the odds were you'd never become a mage, especially girls. Magic showed up when puberty ended. Lots of young adults went into the military or civil service until they turned twenty-five, then they decided on a career. Magic could and would affect your choices, so why spend time and money on something magic might completely change.
I knew Jo was getting stressed about not emerging. Most of her family was hedges or wizards, her dad was a Pattern wizard while her mom was a Fire wizard, not that she did much with it besides be the best cook ever. But either way Jo'd have a job at the shop, something she enjoyed even if she didn't emerge. I still looked for a place to belong like that. But I knew she had other plans. Other hopes and dreams.
"I found another dead body today."
"Eww. Why can't you ever find money or winning lottery tickets?" Jo must have walked outside as the noise level dropped. "Was it gruesome?"
"Not really. Just odd, I mean I've never seen a head separated from the body before."
"Oh, gross. Mi amiga, you have issues that a body like that doesn't affect you," she said, her accent getting more lyrical.
"That isn't the important part," I blurted, my fingers tingling 'cause I was clenching the bench and my phone so hard. I wiggled them as I watched a repair company truck pull up next to Grind Down, probably to fix the door.
"Okay? What's the important part?" She sounded confused and I didn't blame her. I was confused and a bit weirded out.
"He had my name!" I didn't quite screech that last part, but it was close. With a forced cough I cleared my throat and continued talking, this time trying to keep the hysterics down. "He had a piece of paper with my name on it, well sounded like my name. He spelled it with a K and M-o-n-r-o-e instead of M-u-n-r-o-e."
Jo was silent on the other end. "What do you want? I can come get you. We can track him down. Do you need to stay with me?"
Something in me melted and I wanted to sob, but that would be silly. "Thank you. Can I come over after work? Maybe get dinner?" I hated to ask, but while the job covered school and my phone, it didn't leave much left after. My parents paid the utilities, and I got health insurance through them, but otherwise, nothing. Besides, the Guzman's made me feel like family. Like I was wanted.
"Cori! If I told mom you asked that, she'd have your hide. You are family. You know that. Get over early and you can help her roll tamales."
My mouth watered at the thought. Marisol Guzman still made them the old way, with cornmeal and corn husks, and they were so good. "Will do. Thanks, Jo-Jo."
"Stop it. We're family. Now you get to work and I need to get back before Stinky throws a fit."
I snickered and said goodbye, then headed back to Grind Down. The handymen were re-securing the door as I slipped in.
"CORI!" Both Kadia and Molly yelled as I walked in. They all but swarmed me, ignoring the customers wanting their afternoon caffeine boosts.
"Are you okay? What did they want?" Molly asked, her eyes worried. She checked me over as if expecting to find out that I'd been roughed up or something.
"What did you do? Do they think you murdered him?" Kadia asked, the picture of small-town gossip.
"Nothing. They just needed to ask me some more questions about the guy this morning. I suspect Chief Amosen would have asked me here, but—" I paused and nodded at the fallen door—"my mouthing off annoyed her." Suddenly I didn't want to tell anyone but Jo. I felt like I had a target on my back and that made no sense. Who would be interested in me?
I continued to assure them it was routine, just some standard questioning and after a few minutes the crowd of people encouraged us to get back to work. I did it with a fervor. Anything to keep me distracted. It didn't work.
By the time we closed at six, and then I spent an hour cleaning and prepping, mercifully alone, I had worked myself into a nervous wreck.
Lost heiress
Kidnap victim
Identify fraud
Serial killer target.
The possibilities and reasons spun in my head until, "ARGH!" I screamed it at the top of my lungs in the empty shop. In response a can of coffee beans slipped off the counter and spilled all over the floor. I slumped over my broom, looked at the beans, and started to clean them up. "Catastrophe Cori, indeed."
Chapter 4
The magic wave that appeared in the 1850s seemed to come from nowhere, though later studies showed it rippled outward from the tears between our reality and others. The location of these planar rips was discovered in what is now Area 51. The US gover
nment put it under top secret security prior to World War I. But some information was verified before the true understanding of it registered. Three rips, one to each plane labeled Chaos, Order, and Spirit hung in the middle of the Nevada desert. No one discovered what it meant until the 1950s when they closed for a decade. ~ History of Magic
It took me another fifteen minutes to get all the beans cleaned up and finish locking up. I stepped out into the cold night air and pulled my jacket tighter. With a sigh, I started walking to Jo's. Only two miles, I used the time to think. But all I could do was wonder why. People asked me if I'd get magic tested, but you knew when you emerged, and it was always after puberty. I hadn't, so why bother? I didn't need one more thing to tell me I'd failed. Each step seemed heavier and slower than the one before. Even the thought of tamales couldn't get me to pick up the pace.
The winter sky had reached full dark as I trudged up the street to Jo's. Jo or any of her family would have come and gotten me, but it felt like I asked them for so much. So, I refused to ask them for more if I could avoid it. Food was always my weakness.
Usually my disasters didn't directly affect me, or even hurt me, and all of them were things that could, and occasionally did, happen to others. But when I tried to cook meals, everything went wrong. Hence my dependence on either food I could microwave, or Jo's mom.
I turned the front door handle and called out as I stepped in. "It's me!" Shutting the door behind me I slipped off my coat and wandered towards the kitchen.
"My Cori," Marisol exclaimed from the counter. "I would hug you, mi pequeño, but…" She held up her hands—they were both covered with cornmeal. My mouth started to water just thinking about it.
"Jo said you were making tamales. Want help?"
"From you? No. I like my kitchen in one piece. Set the table, por favor?" She had already gone back to expertly making the delicious treats.
"How many?" Their family was liquid; I was proof of that. Paolo, Jo's oldest brother, had his own place, but since he still hadn't found a girl who could handle the Guzman's, he often came to dinner. Marco was in constant demand by the various girlfriends he had; they all knew each other and usually ate out in a big group. Sanchez, or as everyone called him, Stinky, would be at dinner. He'd rather be playing video games than anything else, even though he worked for his dad as a tow truck driver and provided roadside assistance for most of the insurance companies in the area.
"Oh, just five. Marco and Paolo are out tonight." Marisol shot me a wicked grin. "It's the fifth date with the same girl for Paolo, so maybe I might get to meet her soon."
I laughed. Marisol wanted grandkids but not until her children had steady jobs. But Paolo, at twenty-five and with his certifications in car mechanics, would most likely take over the shop when Henri, Jo's dad, retired.
"Don't count the grandbabies until after the wedding."
"Oh, I won't pressure him but that doesn't mean I can't hope. The chips are in the cupboard." Marisol changed her instructions as she finished making the tamales and tossed them in the pressure cooker to finish. I helped until she shooed me out of the kitchen.
I grabbed a few chips and collapsed on the couch, exhausted to the point that my anxiety over the PI had faded. Pulling my phone out, I glared at it, then texted Jo.
*Where are you? I'm here. Need food.*
I stared at the phone as if that would make her respond faster. Instead the back door to the garage opened.
"Mi carino, I'm home," Henri Guzman called out. I had to fight a smile. They were so cute. A flash of sorrow washed through me as what I'd lost when Stevie died hit me again. There were quick footsteps coming down the hall and Jo tore into the living room.
"There you are. Come with me while I change, and tell me everything," she ordered, grabbing my hand and pulling me up and with her.
Jo was a force of nature and my best friend. Her long black hair had been pulled up in a ponytail and her jeans curved her ass in a way that made every man look at her. Too bad she preferred girls and we both felt too much like sisters to ever date each other. The second her door was closed she began stripping grease-covered clothes off, revealing the heart on her hip that matched the one on mine. Her heart said 'BFF – Cori' while mine was 'BFF – Jo-Jo'. I hoped it would never change.
"You aren't talking. Why aren't you talking? I can't help if I don't know what is going on." She shot me a glare as she pulled off her shirt.
"You're going to jump into the shower in a second, and I hate yelling over the water. Wash and then I'll tell everyone at the dinner table." I flopped down on her bed, feeling morose and unloved. It was a good thing school started in a week; I thought too much when not drowning in deadlines and homework.
"Wow, you must be worried if you're telling Mami and Papi," she said, pausing with only her underwear on. She naturally posed, emphasizing her round full breasts, at least two cup sizes bigger than mine.
"You trying to get me to date you? It didn't work, remember? You kissed me at sixteen and you said it was worse than kissing Stinky."
Jo glanced down at her body and unconscious pose and laughed. "No. I'd rather keep you as my heart's sister. Maybe I can trade Stinky for you? Mami likes you better anyhow."
I rolled my eyes. It wasn't true. Her mother just adopted strays, and I was one of them. "Get. I'll tell everyone in a bit." Jo stuck her tongue out at me and headed to her private bathroom. That was a luxury wrested from her parents at sixteen after her brothers walked in on her showering, four times. They were jerks.
I stared at the ceiling trying to get my thoughts ordered. I'd almost succeeded when Jo came out dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. I levered myself off the bed and we headed down to dinner. Henri was there just settling into his chair. Henri's tattoo used to fascinate me as a kid. He'd had it done in a rich gold outline, then filled with a turquoise color that matched Marisol's favorite stone. His magic, Pattern wizard, worked well with his chosen profession as he could see where they broke and sometimes see better ways to repair them. He had served his four years of mandatory service at the Georgia State Department of Transportation after getting his degree. All mages at magician rank or higher were required to go to college and get degrees and the government paid for it. Your minor was always your strongest magic class. They taught you how to control it, make the offerings and the various spells, but then took the equivalent in work as payment.
Henri had his degree in Mechanical engineering and his minor in Pattern, but he didn't care enough to make magic his driving ability; it was a tool like anything else. He loved working with his hands so used his knowledge of mechanics and willingness to work to start his own business. Marisol on the other hand was a Fire mage, and personally I thought that was why she was such a good cook. She taught math at the local middle school and most everyone liked her. Her tattoo was red and black, and I always expected it to flicker with flames, especially when she was mad. It never did, to my disappointment. But then I didn't usually see her mad.
We settled in, saying grace, which still made me uncomfortable, then started passing around food.
"So, Cori, how was your day?" Henri asked once people had food on their plates. My appetite disappeared and I sighed.
The table went quiet and everyone focused on me, even Stinky. Jo elbowed me in the ribs. "Tell them. Heck, tell me. I still want the details."
Though being in the spotlight was something I'd almost gotten used to, it still felt uncomfortable to have my second family staring at me like this. Even Stinky. I cleared my throat and explained everything. The dead guy, calling the police, the chief coming to get me, the questioning, and the fact that he had my name.
"That is not good. I'll help you figure out who he was and why he had your name." Jo's declaration made me smile. She always had my back.
"Well, we do have a name. He's a private investigator from New York. Harold Court Jr. And, to be accurate, the name was Kory Monroe." I spelled it out so they could see the difference.
"That
sounds too close for comfort. I could see hearing your name and spelling it like that. I do not like this." Henri frowned and turned his gaze towards Jo, who had an intent look on her face. "I will not forbid it, I can't. You are both adults. But be careful, and if you are out at night, call one of the boys." He gave Stinky a look. "Sanchez, that means you and your brothers will not have an issue going somewhere with them."
My worry spiked when Stinky didn't protest. He nodded and looked at me. "This doesn't sound good. No going off on your crazy adventures by yourself. Either of you."
Jo sighed, but I felt warm. They weren't my family, but they made me feel like I was theirs. Some days it was the only thing that kept me sane.
"Thanks. But I wanted to ask if anyone had asked about me. I don't have a picture of him, but maybe someone was around looking for someone by my name?"
They all looked at each other and then shook their heads.
Henri said, "Not that I would have told them anything, but I also would have let you know." He frowned as he ate, using the chewing of his food to give him time to think. I'd seen him do this over the years and it still made me smile every time. "Why would someone be looking for you?"
"I don't know. I've thought of everything and I can't figure out any reason." I hated admitting that, but it was true. I was a young woman in rural Georgia, not anyone famous. I had decent grades, was non-magical, with average looks. I wasn't good enough at sports to be on any of the pre-professional teams. So why would anyone want to find me? Either way it was time to change the topic of conversation.
"Jo, you still putting in your applications for trade schools?" I knew the answer to that, but I knew her parents didn't. My smile was beatific as she glared at me, then ducked her head.
"I thought you were going to wait and see if you emerged?" Marisol sounded confused and vaguely hurt. "Then you could go to college and have a guaranteed job after you got out for four years."
"I know. But the odds are if I emerge," she was interrupted by both parents saying "will emerge" and continued after a soft sigh. "If I emerge, I'll be a hedgie. So, I'd rather go and get my AA with something that will help dad with the shop. There are lots of certs I can get after the AA that mean we can repair and work on more cars. I like working on them, it'll be a way I can help us all. It's smart." Her voice almost pleaded at the end and I reached over and squeezed her hand. Jo shot me a relieved look. We had spent many evenings discussing future plans. I understood her practicality, and I shared it. It drove my need to go to college immediately instead of waiting until after all possibility of emergence had passed. I knew I'd never emerge, and I needed the skills to get a good paying job now. The possibility of my parents ripping the apartment away from me at any moment was just one more thing that drove me to become independent.
