Gnome Coming: A humorous paranormal novel (Freaky Florida Book 4)

by Ward Parker

  Kevin looked at Thelma Lou, and she growled at him, baring her teeth. Josie studied her friend, who hung her head as if traumatized. Josie feared that Kevin had done more to her than rough her up.

  “Call the police now,” Josie ordered Kevin.

  He removed his phone from the pocket of his split trousers, then hesitated.

  Josie growled at him.

  “Call Jellyfish Beach Police Department main number,” Kevin spoke into the phone.

  “Put it on speaker,” Josie said.

  Kevin complied. The phone rang until a chipper female voice answered.

  “Jellyfish Beach Police Department. We hope you’re having a sunny day.”

  “No, I’m not,” Kevin said. “I’m calling to confess to two murders.”

  “Thank you for entrusting us with your murder case,” the chipper woman said. “Please hold while I transfer you to a detective and please don’t murder anyone else.”

  “Gotcha.”

  The line buzzed. “Homicide. Detective Ramirez. I hope you’re having a sunny day in beautiful Jellyfish Beach.”

  “I murdered two people,” Kevin said.

  “Today?”

  “No, but recently.”

  Josie poked him with her claw and motioned for him to elaborate.

  “It was Mary Beth Godfrey and Teresa Brunel. They’re the ones I shot. They dishonored me, if you really want to know.”

  “Were they friends or lovers?” the detective asked.

  “Lovers. Until they betrayed me.”

  “I see. Can you come down to the department and turn yourself in?”

  Josie growled.

  “What was that?” the detective asked.

  “I said no, I can’t drive right now,” Kevin said. “Will you come pick me up? I’m in the parking garage at Seaweed Manor on Ocean Road.”

  “Okay, we’ll dispatch a unit to get you. And please don’t murder anyone else in the meantime.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  Josie took the phone from Kevin. “Detective Ramirez, you’re not bringing Affird with you, I hope.”

  “Affird? He’s on vacation.”

  “Good.” She hung up. She suspected Affird’s vacation was mandatory.

  Josie exited the bus so she could shift back to human form and get dressed out of Kevin’s view. When she returned, Kevin was cowering in the corner of his seat while Thelma Lou, still in wolf form, snarled at him viciously.

  “Why did you do it, Kevin?” Josie asked. “Why did you kill them?”

  He didn’t answer. He pouted. The section of flesh that Josie had bitten off beneath his eyes hadn't fully healed and it made him look like he was crying.

  “Was it because they were rejecting you? Your fragile male ego couldn’t handle that, could it?”

  Still no answer.

  “Why would you use silver bullets to kill fellow werewolves?” Josie asked. “In my mind, that makes the murders even worse.”

  “That’s why,” he said. “Because no one would suspect me. I knew everyone would think vigilante monster hunters, or a rogue cop, did it. When I heard that you thought that detective did it, I came up with the story of him and a partner attacking me the night Teresa was shot. It wasn’t fun wounding my own head, but it was pretty convincing, wasn’t it?”

  The creep appeared proud of himself. Josie didn’t answer him. Thelma Lou emitted a low growl that chilled Josie’s blood. She considered whether it would have been better just to kill him. It would have felt so satisfying to tear him into shreds. But it was too late now. It was up to the human justice system to give him what he deserved. He would probably be killed in the county jail before trial or afterwards in the state prison. She couldn't imagine he could keep his lycanthropy secret for very long. Hopefully now, with his confession on record and Affird sidelined, the authorities would leave the werewolves alone.

  "I'm going to stand at the entrance to the garage so I can see when the police arrive. Is your phone on? Okay, when you hear it ring, you'll know it's time to shift," Josie said to Thelma Lou. "You," she looked at Kevin, "are staying on this bus so you don't get any crazy ideas about running away. And if you act up, Thelma Lou will rip your intestines out. Understand?"

  Kevin nodded. But he had a smirk as his cockiness returned.

  "Let me get his gun out of here," Josie said.

  Thelma Lou growled and shook her head. She made some noises that Josie understood as about fingerprints and not disturbing evidence.

  “Okay, then,” Josie said, walking toward the rear of the bus and closing the compartment in the floor that held the rifle. “Don’t let him anywhere near that.”

  Josie exited the bus and used a lever to close the door behind her, although it was severely damaged from her forced entrance. She walked toward the sunshine outside of the garage. Her joints ached as they normally did, compounded by lingering pain from the wounds she received in the fight with Kevin.

  Shifting to wolf form always made her feel decades younger, but, still, she was getting old for this. She couldn’t keep her role as alpha much longer—the ability to fight and win was a requirement. At least she wouldn’t insist on being killed before giving up that role. She would gladly give it up to a worthy protege. Although she had to admit it would be difficult to live with her fallen status.

  The bus was parked in a dead-end at the far end of the garage. As she neared the entrance and the ramp to the upper levels, two cars passed her. Mary, and then Stan and Edith. They all waved to her, which made her feel good despite all the recent tragedy. Part of the anger she felt toward Kevin was from knowing the murderer was one of their own.

  She stood by the entrance, with a good view of the main gate to the complex off A1A, Ocean Road. It was hot and humid, the breeze from the ocean not finding its way to this side of the garage. She wished there was a place to sit down.

  Finally, two police cars and an unmarked car between them arrived at the gate. The attendant opened the gate arm and the small convoy drove toward the garage.

  She called Thelma Lou’s number and listened to it ring until it went to voicemail. Did she hear it ring so she could shift in time?

  The first police car arrived at the entrance to the garage. The officer lowered his window.

  “Hello officer,” Josie said. “We trapped the murderer in that bus up there at the end of the first level.”

  The cop, a fat, older guy, smiled patronizingly. “Oh, you captured him, did you?”

  “Yes, officer. My friend is watching over him, but I want you to know in advance that the murder weapon, a rifle, is also on the bus, in a hidden compartment.”

  The cop’s face turned serious. He said something into the radio handset attached to his vest at his shoulder. He drove slowly into the garage followed by the other cars. Josie walked at a fast pace behind them.

  The cars slowed down at a moderate distance from the bus and parked across the lane to prevent the bus from escaping. Two uniformed officers and one in plainclothes got out of the cars with guns drawn. One of them had a shotgun.

  “Police,” the first cop shouted. “Remain where you are. We’re coming into the bus. Do not move.”

  The first officer approached the door of the bus, covered by the one with the shotgun. The detective, the only one not wearing an armored vest, took up the rear.

  Suddenly, the door of the bus flew open, and Kevin stumbled out.

  “He has the gun!” Thelma Lou shouted from inside the bus.

  And, yes, Josie had a glimpse of the rifle in the blur of movement as Kevin practically fell from the bus.

  And all three cops opened fire.

  Innumerable gunshots echoed in the concrete cavern so loudly they hurt Josie’s ears.

  Kevin flew backwards, hitting a support column, and crumpled to the floor in a spreading pool of blood.

  In human form, he’s as vulnerable as anyone, Josie thought.

  The rifle lay beside him in the lake of blood. But Josie hadn’t actu
ally seen him holding it.

  As the police surrounded Kevin’s body, making sure he wasn’t a threat, Thelma Lou stepped out of the bus in human form. She met Josie’s eyes. Hers spoke of defiance. And vengeance.

  27

  Gnome Justice

  It was the Werewolf Women's Club's first hunting excursion in weeks. To celebrate the end of their communal nightmare, Josie took them to the Ocala National Forest. They traveled north in a brand-new bus, purchased with funds raised in bake sales and a charity fashion show, and they stayed overnight in a lodge just outside of the park's border. The trip did wonders for the group's morale.

  Plunging through the forest with its tall oaks and longleaf pines bisected with shafts of silver moonlight was invigorating. Catching the scents of the abundant game was electrifying. There were many more deer here than around Jellyfish Beach, and the pack feasted on a buck they caught. At one point, they caught the scent of an endangered Florida panther, but it wisely kept its distance from the pack.

  Just after midnight, Josie, Thelma Lou, and Tanya came upon a black bear. They had it surrounded, and it reared on its hind legs, roaring in challenge. It was a large, muscular beast with paws the size of dinner plates, but the three of them could have taken it down with the wolf technique of attacking from multiple fronts, distracting, and wearing it down with quick thrusts and retreats.

  But they didn’t want to attack it. The predators, comprised of three different species if you included the human sides, regarded each other with respect. Josie knew the bear had a tough existence. It didn’t have charity fashion shows or potluck dinners. It had to fight and forage for every meal, survive the elements, and avoid human hunters. She felt as if it looked at them with an understanding that they were not typical wolves, and as apex predators they had much in common. There was wisdom in those dark eyes.

  They turned away and now were onto the scent of raccoons.

  Until the shots rang out.

  The three wolves looked at each other, sharing the sentiment, “oh no, not again.”

  The main body of the pack was up ahead, in the direction of the gunshots. Josie and her two companions raced through the trees to catch up to them.

  More gunshots splintered the night. Thelma Lou whimpered with concern. Then came the sound of a human screaming. It was a man shrieking like an infant.

  With Josie in the lead, the three women werewolves followed a narrow game trail. Josie caught the scent of a panicked human nearby. They rounded a slight hill and suddenly the human was in front of them.

  He sprinted toward them in blind terror. He wore night-vision goggles and a dark T-shirt with large white lettering that said, “Boogaloo Brigade.” It was one of the guys who had played army-man in the forest when Josie surveilled them.

  As soon as he saw the three werewolves loping toward him, he shrieked and ran from the trail. A loud, painful-sounding crack of a skull hitting wood echoed as he slammed into a tree and went down.

  Josie stopped and sniffed him. He was alive but unconscious. The moron had two handguns strapped to his body but had made no attempt to use them. The problem was, one or more of his comrades had, and Josie worried about her fellow werewolves. They should be able to survive being shot with a normal bullet, but no one knew if that was one hundred percent guaranteed.

  A little farther along the trail they came upon a large clearing. The rest of the pack was there, a few lying on the grass in the center gnawing on bones while the others were gathered around the trunks of two live oaks. Five Boogaloo Brigade members clung to the branches, looking like very depressed chimpanzees.

  “Are any of you hurt?” Josie asked Wanda, who sat on her haunches below the nearest tree.

  “I got nicked, but I’m healing fast,” Wanda said. “The human who shot me is not doing well.”

  Now Josie knew what bones the girls were gnawing on.

  “These jokers had a captive, a woman park ranger. They were abusing her. After we tore into them, the ranger escaped. I think they got the message not to mess with women anymore,” Wanda said.

  “They need to stay healthy for the civil war they want to start,” Josie said.

  “Are them wolves talkin’?” asked a voice from the tree.

  “Shhh, you idiot. Be quiet so they’ll go away.”

  If they only knew that werewolves could climb trees, Josie thought with a smile.

  She gave an abrupt bark and all the wolves stood at attention. It was time to end the hunt and return to the bus, shift, and head to the lodge for a good night’s sleep.

  Josie’s lead in identifying Kevin as the murderer helped make the pack more loyal to her as alpha. Josie’s show of strength swayed even Tanya, who was an ally of Kevin. Despite the old tart not liking Josie very much.

  They returned to the bus. Their new driver was Cookie, a younger member of the Women’s club and pack. From now on, their hunt excursions would be women-only.

  “To the Werewolf Women’s Club!” Josie toasted after they had shifted back to human on the bus and pulled the wine from the coolers.

  “May we be forever strong,” the members said.

  No one seemed to mind that the piles of discarded wolf fur still needed to be vacuumed.

  Missy was on her way to meet Matt for breakfast early in the morning, two days after they returned from Central Florida. It was the day of the week when bulk trash was picked up, and Missy was surprised to see piles of discarded garden gnomes at several homes, piled at the curb with the broken furniture and unwanted toys.

  Had everyone in Jellyfish Beach realized that their gnomes were potential threats? No, it was more likely that the demon, as it departed, dumped the gnomes there in a fit of pique. At least they were inanimate again.

  Sipping her hot tea at the ocean-side cafe, Missy watched the joggers stream past the sand dunes and told Matt what she had seen.

  "I hope there will be no more trouble from gnomes," Matt said. "There haven't been any reports of freak accidental deaths in town since your mother took care of the demon."

  "I'm pretty sure it's finished. I can feel the void in the spiritual realm since the black magic left."

  "I can't argue with that."

  “But I don’t feel this story has ended,” Missy said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Justice has not been fully served. Innocent people died, and no one payed a price for it.”

  “Technically, the demon killed them,” Matt said. “How do you punish a demon?”

  “I guess you have to ask Satan to do that.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Then there’s my mother, who summoned the demon. She knew that a demon means trouble. But she didn’t order it to kill anyone. The actual culprit here is Frank. He’s the one who started it all when he hired my mother.”

  “Did he ask her to make the gnomes kill their owners?”

  “You know he didn’t,” Missy said. “But he asked for an uprising and it killed people, as often happens in uprisings. So it’s like murder in the third degree or manslaughter.”

  They went silent when the server dropped off their food: banana crepes for Missy and an omelet for Matt.

  “Are you implying Frank should be criminally charged?” Matt asked with his mouth full.

  Missy sighed. “Not really. You know I can’t bring law enforcement into the supernatural world.”

  “You can get the survivors of the victims to sue him.”

  “The supernatural doesn’t belong in a human court of law, period. But still, I just don’t feel right letting Frank wash his hands of what he caused.”

  “Maybe you can curse him or something,” Matt said while shoving toast in his mouth.

  “I don’t do curses. That’s a black magic thing.”

  Matt shrugged and shoveled copious amounts of egg into his face. She didn’t understand why men felt they had to break speed records every time they ate. No one was timing him. He wouldn’t get a medal for finishing his breakfast before Missy ha
d her third bite.

  “I wish I understood why Frank did this,” she said. “I thought most of the gnome-liberation groups did it with a sense of irony, as performance art. But Frank seemed so serious about it.”

  “Yeah, like he believed the lawn ornaments had some real gnome in them.”

  Missy had an idea. “I think he needs a beatdown from a real gnome. Real gnomes aren’t the adorable characters these figurines represent. They dislike humans.”

  “You know gnomes?” Matt asked, finally wiping the detritus of his feeding frenzy from his face with his napkin.

  “I treated one once for gnome toe.”

  “For what?”

  “A fungal infection. Do you want details?”

  “No thanks. I didn’t know there were gnomes in Florida.”

  “There aren’t many. They prefer to live underground, in mines and such, guarding gemstones and precious metals. And Florida doesn’t have much of an underground with its high water table. But there are some gnomes upstate guarding the pure water of the natural springs.”

  “How do you contact a gnome?” Matt asked. “Do you summon them?”

  “No. They're not spirits. They're living creatures. Supernatural ones, of course. I'll need to reach out with my magick.”

  “What kind of beatdown do you want this gnome to give to Frank?”

  “I’ll explain the situation and let the gnome decide.”

  “Reaching out” to a gnome proved to be more complicated than Missy realized. She had no idea how to do it. Don Mateo didn’t know either. She had to go through several books of spells and magical lore before she came across a spell to request an audience with a gnome.

  She had to wait two days for a quarter moon. Then, atop a flat rock facing east, she placed a clump of rosemary, a pound of salt, a coin of silver, and a coin of gold. That wasn’t all. The spell also called for a cup of ale, a small cake, and a can of Cheese Wiz—why, she didn’t know. Then she attempted to recite a short verse in a language she didn’t recognize. When this was completed, she was supposed to close her eyes and “clear her thoughts of all things impure.” That's what the spell instructions said. Really.