Shame of Clones: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Karma Inc. Files Book 3)

by Melanie James

  Barney‘s webbed hands frantically rubbed the blue balls. “Easy for you to say. I’d like to see you try warming up balls like these.”

  The instant both balls emitted the telltale blue glow, I flapped like a bird—a motley diseased bird—and Ezzy raised the magic staff. “Red and Ivana Schwanz, we curse you. We call upon the fates to deliver unto you the harvest of what you have sown. Specifically for the acts of carelessness, abandonment, and theft that you have committed against Ann Elrider.”

  The video screen flickered to life, displaying a majestic rocky canyon. From a bird’s eye view, we watched a truly vintage RV carefully navigating hairpin turns on a winding mountain road. I had expected to see a luxurious custom RV, the kind of penthouse-on-wheels a rock star would tour in. The Schwanzes’ rusty jalopy looked more like a trailer park refugee.

  “What the hell is that thing? A mobile meth lab?” I asked.

  “It’s what happens when the neighborhood gets so bad, even the corner crack-house sprouts wheels and runs away,” Barney replied.

  The old heap sped faster and faster on a downhill road, careening around switchbacks that became increasingly more difficult. Smoke rolled off the wheels.

  “My God, why aren’t they slowing down?” Randy gasped.

  “Doesn’t look like they’ve invested their rental income in new brakes,” I noted.

  Then it happened. With no working brakes, the rusty old Winnebago couldn’t maintain control on a cliff-hugging curve. It launched out over a rock-strewn abyss, then dropped like a stone, Evel-Knievel style.

  “Cut! Cut! Stop! Whatever!” I screamed.

  “Whoa! Did you see how fast that sucker was going?”

  “We killed them! Oh my God.”

  “We? No, no, no. You did.” Randy wagged his index finger at us. “You, Ezzy, and Barney did. You’re—you’re—killers! Killers!”

  “Keep your head together!” Ezzy shot back. “Didn’t you notice? The staff didn’t glow. It didn’t even heat up or vibrate.”

  “So?” Randy’s voice squeaked, nearly sobbing. Or maybe he was just hyperventilating,

  “She’s right!” I cheered. “It means our spell didn’t work. We didn’t do it.”

  Randy said, “Hold on. So you mean to say that because Ezzy couldn’t get that big rod turned on, the accident was just a coincidence?”

  “I can honestly say I’ve never been so happy about handling a staff with performance issues. And trust me when I say, I’ve handled a lot of staffs.” Ezzy sighed. “This is strange. Very strange. Anyway, let’s thank our lucky stars it failed. We’re innocent. This time.”

  “Listen, witches, just because my anaconda don’t want none, don’t go thinking it’s gone dysfunctional.” Barney took the magic staff away from Ezzy and gently stroked it. “I also don’t think it was on account of you, Ezzy. You’ve got expert hands when it comes to working up a classic piece of wood like this. For whatever reason, things like this just happen. But I don’t know why you’re all relieved. The way I see it, we’re screwed. And not in the good way.”

  Barney’s statement startled me. “What do you mean, screwed?”

  “Your brother just told the world that Karma, Inc. was going to deal some dirty deeds to Red and Ivana Schwanz. Think about it. He said it right before that dilapidated shit-truck took a swan dive to Hades—live and in color. Of course we’ll be blamed. Only a handful of witches know we’ve actually been using magic for our dirty tricks. Once the world sees this? Then what? Claiming my magic rod wasn’t up to the task won’t cut it as a defense. As I said, we are screwed.” Barney jerked the magic staff one last time. “What’s wrong with it?”

  Without warning, a blinding ray of fire shot out of the tip, hitting the coat hook on the back of the door. It just so happened to be where Ezzy hung her clothes up when she changed into the Druid suit. All that remained was a clothes hanger with two black spaghetti straps dangling over a smoldering black smudge.

  “For Vulcan’s sake!” Ezzy shouted. “Someone get me my wand. I’m about to make a frog skin dress.”

  “Ho-hol-hold on, baby. You know I didn’t mean to. It just shot off. I wasn’t ready,” Barney begged. “Let me take you to Florence. I’ll steal every designer dress in town for you.” With big watery frog eyes, he held up her black stilettos. “At least you still have these. You look as sexy as Helen of Troy on horseback when you wear them.”

  Ezzy huffed and quickly calmed down. “I never liked that dress anyway. It didn’t show enough cleavage.”

  Randy gulped so loudly I swore he’d just swallowed a golf ball. “Yep. We are indeed screwed. Anyone who watched the broadcast will assume we sabotaged their brakes.”

  “Quit freaking out, Randolfo. For all you know they slid down a hill and are just fine. In any case, we’re done,” Ezzy said, peeling off the skin tight Druid suit. “Karma, Inc. is finished. These magic clothes and accessories are going right back to the storeroom at the Witches Union Headquarters. I never thought I’d say this, but things are getting too crazy for me.” She tossed the suit into the trunk and I added the mask and feather cape.

  She stood there stark naked, except for the goofy-looking giant gold antlers wobbling over her head. “Barney, put your balls away, and Randy, get rid of these computers. I’m ready to leave.”

  “Hey Bullwinkle, unless you’re planning to star in some weird moose-porn you might want to take off those golden antlers.”

  Ezzy threw the metal headdress into the trunk and stretched her arm in Barney’s direction. “Get my broom and hop up here. Time for us to fly.”

  “We’re done?” My head spun with disbelief. “You mean just our webcast, right?”

  “No. Karma, Inc. is done, finished, kaput. I’m putting this junk back where it belongs and then I’m going to lay low for a while. I suggest you do the same.” Ezzy’s urgent and forceful demeanor softened when she looked me in the eye. “All right, come here and get it over with.”

  She may have been naked, but I gave her a hug anyway. “Send me a scroll? And drop by anytime you want.”

  “You know I will,” she said, giving me a quick kiss. Turning away, she blew a kiss to my brother. “Hey Randy, if you ever get the urge to swing the other way, I better be at the top of your list.”

  Armed with Ezzy’s mini-broom, Barney jumped into her arms and nuzzled her long red hair. “Did I ever tell you how much I love to eat ginger muffins, Ezzy? Say, how about we play Winnie the Pooh so I can get my nose stuck in your honey pot?”

  “Such a sick little bastard,” Ezzy said with disdain. “Ciao, babes.” With a flash of green light and purple smoke they left, taking the chest with them.

  “Just like that? No more Karma, Inc.?” Randy moaned.

  “Just like that,” I replied, staring at the swirling purple wisps. “We’ve got to check on these people. Do you know the exact location of the place the RV went over the cliff?”

  “It’s right here.” He tapped the laptop screen. “According to the map program on my computer, the place matches up with a gravel road that snakes through Crazy Woman Canyon in Wyoming. It’s literally in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Crazy Woman Canyon. Appropriately named.” I shuddered. “If there’s anything left of them.”

  “Get ready to fly,” Randy said, offering his broom. “I really hope we’re not getting into more than we can handle.”

  “It would be unusual if we weren’t,” I replied, putting my hand on his.

  Randy mumbled the spell and we were instantly transported to Crazy Woman Canyon.

  Chapter Three

  Crazy Woman Canyon

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” I asked, scanning the rock-strewn creek bed for signs of the RV. “There’s nothing here.”

  “I’m sure of it. Look up there.” Randy pointed up to the dirt road snaking its way down from the mountains. “Right above us, you can’t see the road anymore. That’s exactly where it makes the sharp turn on the edge of the cliff and e
xactly where the RV nosedived,” he said, kicking rocks and pacing along the creek as we looked in vain. “I don’t get it. Their RV should be right here.”

  At that bewildering moment, I spotted it on the far side of the canyon, perfectly perched in the tops of pine trees. The Winnebago had obviously shot farther through the air than we had imagined. Thankfully, the vehicle looked no worse for its terrifying trip, but as far as the occupants, I was still worried.

  “Randy, look!” I shouted, pointing across the creek at the RV’s unlikely parking spot.

  We ran, if you can call tripping and crawling over the rough terrain ‘running.’ We were like a pair of tortoises on an obstacle course. It was a nightmarish scene, and we came no closer to our objective despite our bruising efforts.

  A gray-haired couple exited the camper and shimmied down the trunk of a tree. Their red and yellow bowling shirts shimmered in the afternoon sun.

  “Oh, thank God. They’re okay,” I huffed and puffed.

  “Ivana! Ivana! Red! Schwanz!” Randy labored to shout. The thin mountain air had us Flatlanders gasping like fish out of water. “We’re here! To help!”

  As they reached the ground, the woman turned her head, and I was certain she noticed us. It looked like she said something to her husband—something that alarmed him. Mysteriously, they vanished quickly into a clump of small trees without responding to Randy’s calls.

  The abandoned RV burst into flames, sending a thick cloud of black smoke snaking skyward. We waited until the burnt-out shell of the RV fell to the ground, then rushed to the scene, just to be sure nobody else had been inside. All we saw were the charred metal parts.

  “Holy hell! How weird was that?” Randy asked, scratching his head. “They got out just in time. You’d think they’d be grateful to see help after driving off a cliff and crash landing in the treetops. Anyway, they’re alive. No harm, no foul, I say. Let’s split.”

  “Whoa! Hold on. Maybe it’s not weird at all. They could be disoriented, like they’re in shock or something. Come on, Randy, we have to hurry before they get too far.”

  “I hate it when you second-guess my callous nature, Kel. If there was a trail, at least, maybe we’d get somewhere. But where are we going? They’re long gone into the wilderness. Bye-bye.”

  I plopped down on an uncomfortable boulder. “Well, I’m not giving up on them,” I mumbled, emptying pebbles from my sandals. “Sure they’re alive, but the crash happening while we worked our webcast was no coincidence. You know what else is weird? I didn’t see a single bowling ball in the wreckage, and they weren’t carrying any with them. What kind of bowlers go on a tournament circuit without their balls?” I took a deep breath and continued to voice my concerns. “We have a mystery, Randy. If our magic failed, someone else is trying to frame us. Ezzy must think so too, otherwise she would never have run like that.”

  “This is nuts, Kel. You’re over thinking things again. We’re clear. No way we’re ever—” Randy was interrupted by a deep droning sound resonating through the canyon. “What the fuck was that?”

  We scanned the canyon for nearly five minutes, searching for the source of the strange hum.

  “It’s familiar, yet unnatural,” I said. “Like maybe I’ve heard it in the weird background music of one of those old science fiction movies you’re so crazy about.”

  “Kel, listen. It stopped. Any idea where it was coming from?”

  “There!” I’d spotted a sign of life above the canyon’s rim. A thin line of smoke coiled up through the trees, climbing skyward like a signal for help. “A smoke signal! They’re up there. I bet they came to their senses and made a fire.”

  “And what? Made a siren out of twigs and rocks? No way. I don’t get it. How could those old people crawl down out of a wreck, climb up there, and make a fire while we barely made it twenty yards? They’re bowlers, not Olympic athletes.”

  “Never underestimate what physical activity can do for the human body, Randy. We’re couch potatoes. We’re unable to comprehend their abilities.”

  “I don’t know. I still say that’s quite an achievement. Maybe your werebear boyfriend has that sort of stamina, but not us poor human shmucks.”

  I smiled at the thought. “You have no idea.”

  “And I don’t want to, so spare me. In any case, the smoke doesn’t explain that weird sound. I guess there’s only one way to find out,” he replied, taking the little broom from his pocket. “We can get there much less painfully with a little magic.”

  Without hesitation, I held the broom with him. We were transported to a spot a hundred yards from the signal fire. Randy stared at me, wide-eyed and pale. “Listen,” he whispered.

  I heard it too—several muffled voices. “Let’s check it out. And remember they might be in shock, so don’t scare them away.”

  Chapter Four

  Tree Hugging Festival

  Everything suddenly became clear when we reached the grassy meadow. A rainbow of colorful Tibetan prayer flags fluttered from a clothesline that had been strung over the clearing. In the center, a tie-dye clad woman meditated by a smoldering campfire.

  I recognized her immediately. She was Leigh Epstein’s hippie mother-in-law, Millie Kovacs. “Hi Millie! What a surprise seeing you out here.” Randy and I sat down on either side of her.

  “Kelly! Randy!” She greeted us with hugs and her genuinely happy smile was as warm as the fire. “I think you two are the surprise. I thought I was hallucinating again.”

  “Again?” Randy asked, cocking his head.

  “I saw a man and a woman walk right past here. They were wearing bowling shoes and those silly bowling shirts. That couldn’t have been real,” Millie said, waving in a hit of smoke from the cannabis campfire.

  Just then, a strange noise blared out from the trees behind us, and Randy and I nearly hit the ground in fear. “Don’t be so alarmed. It’s only Max playing his Australian didgeridoo.” Millie pointed toward the treetops.

  “Oh my God! Is that safe?” I couldn’t believe it. Max sat precariously on a branch, nearly fifty feet from the ground. He blew into a pipe-shaped instrument that was as long as a grown man.

  At the end of his monotonous tune, he waved down at us. “Hey kids! I’m trying to call those aliens back.”

  “Aliens?” we asked in harmonious confusion.

  “Yeah man, I figured they’d come down in a silver flying saucer. Nope. Those cats came space-truckin’ down to Earth in style, man.” Max blew another long note on the didgeridoo. “Get this, in a groovy ’68 Winnebago Motorhome.” Laughing like a maniac, he slipped from the branch, his ponytail waving above him. The didgeridoo smacked his head as he bounced from branch to branch toward the ground, like a ball dropping through a surreal human pachinko machine.

  We rushed to save his sorry old ass, but it was too late. He’d almost reached the bottom.

  The final branch was to be his doom or savior. Thankfully, he grabbed it with one hand and swung himself safely to the ground with ape-like dexterity. “Whoa, man. Did that just happen or am I still trippin’?”

  Millie tackle-hugged him. “You had me scared, old man. Kiss me.”

  “Anytime, old lady.”

  Now, most people would expect them to quickly kiss and offer thanks for a lucky break. Not those two. What started as a kiss quickly turned into a tongue-wrestling, flesh-groping ball of tie-dyed hippies rolling around in the grass.

  “Ahem,” I muttered, hoping to get their attention. “Excuse me!”

  Nothing.

  Randy was less subtle. “Hey! Before we see anything that could scar us for life, can we ask you something?”

  “You guys wanna’ get in on this? It’s cool with us,” Max mumbled and went back to kissing Millie.

  “Jesus! No!” Randy barked and I threw up a little in my mouth. “Isn’t Gertie supposed to be with you? Where is she?”

  “Oh yeah. Gertie. Hmm, last I saw she was playing with her beaver,” Millie answered.

  “You
mean like a pet beaver?” Randy asked, motioning with his hands and fingers in an attempt to mimic a large rodent.

  “Pet? Oh gosh, no. I mean it… you know, beaver.” She giggled, losing attention and getting lost in Max’s kisses.

  “Come on, Randy. They’re too stoned to get information from. Let’s find Gertie and hope she hasn’t been hanging out by the pot campfire too.”

  “If she’s doing what Millie said, I assume they got her stoned too.”

  We followed a path, leaving the clearing. “There she is.” Randy pointed to a red-haired pixie of a girl sitting on a stump. She was wearing a flowery little sundress, facing away from us while she cooed and giggled.

  Her legs were obviously open and her hands looked busy. “Randy, you better let me be the one to interrupt her. She’d be more embarrassed if you did, being her roommate and all.” I took a step forward, mumbling, “How did I get to this point in my life?”

  Gertie shocked us by spinning around.

  Our mouths dropped in anticipation of the horror of witnessing Gertie’s moment of solo pleasure. But we were wrong. Her hands were in her lap, holding a baby beaver. A real, live, tree-munching, dam-building beaver.

  “Hi guys! Why do you both look so shocked? It’s like you thought I was going to do something horrible, like eat this beaver. You know better! Look at how sweet she is!”

  “Damn it, Millie,” I cursed quietly.

  “Another pet?” Randy asked, obviously frustrated by the thought of another species being added to Gertie’s ever-expanding menagerie. “I thought you were sticking to paranormal creatures, and cats for your shelter.”

  “She’s all alone. Once she’s big enough, she can live in the bayou with Becky and Olaf.” Gertie paused, thinking about what she’d just said. “Unless dragons and Nessies have a taste for beaver.”

  “As weird as that sounds, it’s a reasonable question,” I said.

  Randy nodded. “And I’m no expert on the care and feeding of paranormal creatures, but I think the best idea is not to tempt them.”