Wanderers: Ragnarök

by Richard A Bamberg

“Really?” Was she talking political muscle or witchcraft?

  “Our family has influence. If I call the mayor, I’m sure I can convince her that you saw nothing of importance.”

  Ah, political then. Was I relieved that she wasn’t offering to make the police forget about me? “I wouldn’t want special treatment, besides Abigail might wonder why they had suddenly forgotten about me.”

  “You deserve special treatment.” Her fingers strayed to places too numb to respond. “I think you should reconsider my offer to mentor you while you’re in town. This doesn’t have to be a one-time occurrence.”

  I kissed her warmly.

  “You’re too kind,” I said after breaking for air. “I’ll definitely consider it, but like I said, I’ve already promised Abigail.”

  “That old witch can’t give you what I can.”

  I let my lewd smile speak for me. She laughed and gave me a quick peck on the lips. “All right, you don’t have to decide right away. Off with you now. Go see the police.”

  I rolled out of bed and reached for my shorts. They were dismembered. I remembered her spell and the ripping of fabric. I bent and picked up my jeans and shirt. They were all in a similar condition. Every seam had separated.

  “Nice view.”

  I stood and turned around holding my destroyed clothing out toward her.

  “Even nicer from this side. I’ve changed my mind. Come back to bed and forget about the police,” Marian said.

  “Are you leaving me any choice? I can’t ride back with only my boots and jacket.”

  “Phish,” she said.

  She rolled toward my side of the bed and ended on her side facing me, a very attractive view. She waved a hand and spoke a few words. My clothes were pulled from my hands by a tiny whirlwind. They spun for a few minutes and then dropped back into my outstretched hands.

  Completely mended.

  “Impressive,” I said.

  “It takes greater effort to get all the thread back where it came from than to remove it.”

  I slipped into my mended clothes and pulled on my jacket while she watched.

  When I finished dressing, I stepped to the bed. As I bent to kiss her goodbye, she caressed my crotch. I ran my fingers down her spine and across her buttocks. She growled into my mouth.

  “I’m going to miss this,” she said.

  “I won’t be a stranger.”

  Now, why’d I say that? She’d just Mickey-Finned me to get me in bed. Why would I come back?

  She kissed me again and I felt my hormones answer for me.

  I left before she ripped my clothes off again.

  I parked Beast behind Cynthia’s Civic at the curb in front of Abigail’s. How long had she been there?

  I jogged up the front steps and stopped before opening the front door. I sniffed. I didn’t have that peachy clean aroma I’d left with that morning. Removing the lingering scent of sex is not as simple as removing the malevolent odor of demon gunk. I ran through my basic hygiene spells and decided I’d better keep some distance between Cynthia and me until I could grab a shower.

  I went in, through the foyer, and into the kitchen. Voices came from the back porch. Opening the back door, I found Cynthia and Abigail at the small table eating fruit and pastries and drinking coffee.

  “Good day, Raphael. Did you enjoy your ride?” Abigail asked.

  “Hello, ladies. Yes, it was pleasant.”

  “What took you so long?” Cynthia asked.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “You know we were supposed to go down to the police station today. It’s nearly one.”

  “I lost track of the time. However, I’m here now. Let’s go,” I said motioning for her to get up.

  “Nonsense, there’s no hurry,” Abigail said. “Raphael, I imagine after that long ride you’ll want to freshen up before you see the police. Grab a cup of coffee and jump in the shower. You can join us for a late brunch when you’re through.”

  I stared at Abigail for a moment. The old gal knew more than she wanted to say in front of Cynthia. Well, I wasn’t going to broach the subject in front of either of these women. I nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, but you don’t have to wait for me. I won’t be a minute.”

  “Don’t rush on our account. We have things to discuss,” Abigail said.

  I grabbed a cup and filled it from the urn on the table, being careful not to get too close to Cynthia, and hurried back inside. I undressed in the bath. Leisurely this time and not ripping any seams. When I stepped out of the shower, the coffee had chilled. I gulped it down while slipping into my last set of clean shorts, pants, and shirt.

  In less than ten minutes, I was downstairs again and joining the ladies.

  “Raphael, Cynthia and I think we need to get everyone we can to watch for something like last night. The coven can probably cover all of Huntsville with a detection spell that’ll warn us if someone is doing a summoning, but we’ll have to enlist others to cover the territory outside the city. It’s just too much for our little group to watch over.”

  “That sounds wise, Abigail. What about the shadow demon? Could it have been called by the same person?” I asked. I refilled my coffee and took a Danish from the serving tray.

  “Quite possibly, but a shadow demon is the sort of thing a beginner does. The murderer called a fire demon. That’s not exactly amateur hour.”

  “It’s a good thing you have me for an alibi,” Cynthia said.

  She was dressed in a silk blouse, suede boots, and a thick corduroy skirt this morning. Her long hair hung freely about her shoulders.

  “Alibi?” I asked. “Why would I need an alibi? I don’t have the skill to summon fire demons and I wasn’t here when the shadow demon appeared.”

  “Your skill may not be significant, but you have tricks. Like that dagger with the amplifying spell,” she countered.

  “But I risked life and limb to stop the demon. Surely you don’t suspect me?” I said.

  “Cynthia, stop teasing the boy. I swear…or I would if it weren't unladylike. Cynthia, just because you like Raphael, you don’t have to make up for it by constantly insulting him.”

  Cynthia’s mouth dropped open. I used my cup to cover the smile that I couldn’t stop.

  “What makes you think—” Cynthia began.

  “Dear, I’ve known you for half a score of years. You couldn’t hide your attraction toward Raphael from me if you tried.” Abigail poured herself another cup as she continued. “I’m not saying you have the hots for him. That would be as unladylike as swearing, but dear, you are obviously attracted to him. When he came home the other night, I could smell your perfume on him. You were doing more than locking up after I left the shop.”

  Cynthia’s mouth closed and her face colored. She started to speak and Abigail raised a hand for silence. “Dear, you told me yourself you were surprised how you felt after doing that spell together. You’re both healthy young adults and are both following the path of the goddess. I’d be surprised if you weren’t attracted to each other.

  “Now, I’m not saying I think you two ought to run upstairs and work out some of that passion you’re showing, but I am saying that you shouldn’t keep teasing him in front of others with false accusations. That’s not the actions of a mature witch.”

  Christ. I knew Abigail could be blunt, but this was beyond my imagination. In my day, such bluntness would have been unthinkable. Were Wiccans actually this sexual? I didn’t have near the experience around them that I’d like and my mentor hadn’t gone into this kind of detail when he was training me on the various magical groups. I mean orgies are one thing, but blatant sexual conversation over brunch? I was embarrassed for Cynthia and unable to meet her gaze when she turned to look at me.

  “She’s right,” Cynthia said.

  I choked on my coffee.

  “Excuse me?” Have I mentioned that I’m a master of the quick retort?

  “Rafe, Abigail is right. You and I are attracted to each other,
physically at least, and I’ve been making snide remarks in some sort of attempt to hide the fact.”

  Oh, hell. What was I doing around such outspoken women? “Okay. We’re attracted to each other. I’d have to be daft not to be attracted to you, but I don’t see what attracts you to a homeless vagabond like me.”

  “Don’t you? You tried to save my life the first time we met. You risked everything to try to save Jessica last night. You’re an honorable man with more nobility than I’ve found in anyone my age before. I’d be foolish not to get you to settle down and father my children.”

  I almost caught my coffee cup before it shattered on the porch floor.

  “Now wait a minute,” I said.

  Cynthia’s laugh cut my protest. I glanced from her to Abigail and saw the old gal was smiling.

  “You. You two set me up. What kind of sick joke is this?” I said.

  Cynthia was laughing too hard to respond.

  “Raphael, get another cup from the kitchen. I’m sure Cynthia will have control of herself by the time you return,” Abigail said.

  “I’ve had enough coffee for today, thanks. What I’d like is an explanation.”

  “You’ll have to ask Cynthia. She didn’t let me in on the gag.” I studied Abigail’s face. Apparently, she found my discomfort amusing, but I saw no indication that she’d been part of setting me up. But then why had she been so open with Cynthia in front of me?

  “Do you two pull this on all the guys Cynthia is attracted to? Is this some kind of test to see if they’ll head for the hills?”

  Cynthia wiped tears from her cheeks and sat up. “I’m sorry, Rafe. That was cruel of me. Don’t blame Abigail; it was my doing.”

  “Okay, so you got Abigail to set me up with all this ‘attracted to each other’ garbage before you delivered the punch line. I don’t think that was very nice of either of you.”

  Abigail placed her hand on my arm and squeezed gently. “Raphael, I was speaking the truth. I had no idea Cynthia would twist it into a joke. But I must say, the look on your face was priceless.”

  Cynthia slid her chair back and stood. She walked around to my side of the table. Before I could protest, she bent and gave me a kiss that warmed. I responded, but not with the passion I had last night. At the same time, I realized I had to continue the uncomfortable ruse. Wouldn’t any man my apparent age be embarrassed by being frenched in front of a matronly woman? I felt a flush rise to my face and suddenly realized my embarrassment didn’t have to be faked.

  Cynthia broke the kiss when it pleased her and caressed my cheek with her hand. “You’re sweet, Raphael, and I was cruel. I’ll make that up to you later.”

  Abigail chuckled. “You already have him blushing. If you’re going to keep that up, take him upstairs, and don’t be making any more promises in front of me.”

  Whoa. Time to put a halt to this. I was in no condition to be taken anywhere. “Excuse me. I enjoy the attention as much as the next guy, hell, probably more so. But we still have to go by the police station and it’s getting late.”

  Cynthia’s smile dropped a notch, but then came back full. “I didn’t mean right now. Abigail’s right about the way I feel, but we’ll get around to doing something about it when we’re both ready. We are civilized.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “Civilized, yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You do that. Abigail, I guess we should go make our statements. We don’t want to keep those detectives waiting.” Cynthia took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Come on, Rafe, I want to ride that big hog of yours.”

  “Okay, I’m coming. We’ll be back later, Abigail.”

  “Take your time; Raphael. I’ve work to do.”

  I let Cynthia lead me through the kitchen and into the foyer. I grabbed my leather jacket off the coat rack and pulled it on. “You need to put something else on, a skirt and blouse isn’t the best thing for riding.”

  “I’ve ridden a bike before. The skirt will be okay and I have a leather jacket in my car. It’s not all Marlon Brando like yours, but it’ll do.”

  “Marlon Brando? Should I get my chaps and hat?”

  “Ha, not for me.”

  Out front, she took a waist length brown leather jacket from the front seat of her car and pulled it over her thin blouse. While I unclipped my helmet from its holder, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and fastened it with a stretchy. “You only have the one helmet?”

  “Yes, I don’t usually have passengers and it may be a little large for you.”

  “Because your head is all swollen and you had to buy an extra-large?” she asked.

  “No. I have a large one so that when a cute young thing wants a ride she doesn’t have to worry about it messing up her doo.”

  Her smile almost vanished. “Yeah, I bet they’re lining up to ride with you.”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll always save you a ride.” I straddled the seat, straightened the handlebars, and bent to flip down the passenger pegs. I offered my hand. She took it and swung her right leg over the bike. She got comfortable on the back of the saddle and bunched her skirt between her legs so the wind wouldn’t catch it. That left a generous display of tanned thighs above her boots. I smiled in appreciation and considered verifying the closeness of her shave, and then I thought, what the hell, and gently laid the fingers of my left hand against her shin. I slid my fingertips over her bare skin, across her knee, and up her thigh until I reached the hem of her skirt. Her muscles quivered beneath my fingers. When I raised my eyes, I saw a warm glow in hers.

  “You have a gentle touch. I like that.” Her arms came around my waist, down low. She hooked her thumbs through my belt and pulled in tight against my back.

  I reluctantly raised my fingers from her and pulled on my gloves. I cranked Beast and let the engine idle. Twisting my head I said, “You comfortable?”

  In answer, she kissed me on the cheek. “Let’s go.”

  I eased out, careful of my passenger, and followed her directions, south down Whitesburg and turned onto Airport. I gave the throttle a little twist and leaned against the acceleration as we climbed the steep hill. Airport changed its name when we entered Jones Valley and then changed again after we passed an enormous field with Black Angus grazing in tall grass. I maintained the speed limit as we continued south on Bailey Cove for a mile or so and Cynthia pointed out a police substation in a strip mall parking lot. I turned in and parked near the front door.

  “How was it?” I asked when I’d killed the engine and pocketed my keys.

  “Too short. Can we take a real ride?” Cynthia replied. She swung off the back of my seat and her skirt dropped back into place, covering that beautifully smooth skin.

  “Won’t Abigail be expecting us at the shop?”

  Her grin reminded me of cats and canaries. “I already spoke to her. She’s not expecting us back until after supper.”

  “Supper? Where’d you want to ride to, Chattanooga?”

  She gave it some thought. “No, I was thinking Guntersville. It’s a lot closer and we can grab a snack at the lake.”

  “Okay, sounds like fun.”

  We identified ourselves to the desk sergeant and were asked to take a seat. Five minutes passed before the Fed and the local detective appeared through a door to the back.

  “Mr. Semmes. Ms. Ronue. Thank you for coming,” Special Agent Biers said.

  “Our pleasure,” Cynthia said. She stood and shook hands with each of them. I put on my best smile and followed her lead.

  “Ms. Ronue, if you’ll go with Detective Agrinzoni, I’ll take Mr. Semmes statement.”

  Cynthia frowned. “I thought we’d give our statements together.”

  “That would be confusing. The statements are recorded and we need to be able to separate out who is saying what,” Agrinzoni said.

  I put my hand on Cynthia’s elbow. “What he’s not saying is that they want to be able to compare our statements for discrepancies.”

  Cynthia must have gu
essed this herself, but she played along and looked shocked. “Discrepancies? You mean they suspect that we’d lie about something as serious as murder?”

  Biers held up a hand before her partner could jump in. “We’re not saying that, Ms. Ronue. But eyewitness accounts are always the most unreliable of evidence in court. This way we can compare your stories. Everywhere they match we’ll have a firmer case for using it in court.”

  “But we didn’t see anything. We were just the first on the scene,” Cynthia said.

  “It’s still procedure to get separate statements. If I didn’t, the Deputy Director would have my badge. I’m sure you understand.” Biers added a please-bear-with me smile.

  “Okay, we wouldn’t want you to get in trouble. Will this take long? It’s such a lovely day that we were planning to ride down to Lake Guntersville.”

  “You’ll be out of here in no time, Ms. Ronue. You have my word,” Agrinzoni said, holding the door open and motioning her through.

  Biers caught the door when he let go of it. She motioned toward me. I pointed a finger at my chest and mouthed, “Me?”

  She nodded. I went through the door.

  The door closed behind me. The four of us were in a long corridor with open offices on either side for half its length. Agrinzoni stopped in front of a closed door, opened it, and motioned Cynthia in.

  “Holler if you need help,” I said as Agrinzoni closed the door behind them. It earned me a frown from the detective, but a smile from Cynthia.

  Biers gave me a light shove past the closed door. “We’re two doors down, on the left.”

  “Sure thing, Special Agent Biers.” I walked down the hallway and tried the doorknob of the room she’d called out. It was unlocked. I stepped in without waiting for her. There was a small table with two chairs. The table held a pitcher of ice water and two glasses. One of the chairs faced a large mirror. I took the one facing away from the mirror. On the table were ink pens, a notepad, a few assorted buttons, and a microphone.

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, Semmes. You know I sit there.”

  I smiled at Biers. “I thought it’d be more relaxing this way. You want me relaxed don’t you?”

  “Just get out of the damn chair,” she snarled.