by Chase Connor
“Oma.” I turned my head to her. “Do you know anybody else…like us…around here?”
“Wouldn’t you know if I did?” She waggled her head. “I’d-a done told ya’, wouldn’t I have?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, I don’t.” She snipped.
“Then I’m going out,” I said simply and started to turn.
“And do what?”
“I’m gonna go hunting.” I shrugged.
“Jason?” Oma hissed, her eyes wide.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s daylight anyway.”
Vaguely, I gestured at the kitchen window. Oma glanced at the window as though she had forgotten this fact. Lena continued to wash the dishes, her head down and eyes averted, obviously ignoring the two humans in the room in an effort to not be noticed. Though, I wasn’t sure why she thought being noticed would get her involved in the minor argument. Oskar started humming a slow, yet happy tune as he continued to sweep. When it became clear that Oma was going to stare out the window and get lost in her thoughts, I made my exit. The longer I waited the chances of becoming distracted increased.
Chapter 4
It wasn’t even lunchtime, yet the manager of Lounge in Toledo had allowed me to come inside to see their new act. “Lounge” was a funny name for an LGBTQ+ bar, in my opinion. Although I was utterly unsure why, I suspected it was because it was such a straightforward, if not lazy, name for any kind of dinner club. Lounge. I mean, yeah, I guess that’s kind of what it was…but that’s it? Not The Rainbow Lounge or The Executive Lounge or Unicorn Lounge or Meet Your Next Hookup Lounge—just…Lounge. Of course, I was going to keep my opinions to myself and not tell the manager my thoughts. One, she had been kind enough to let me come in during off-hours, and two, she had recognized me as “Jacob Michaels.” If I acted like a brat, it was possible she would tell some media or news outlet, and I’d be national news.
I was still waiting for more paparazzi to descend on Point Worth now that it was clear where I had run off to, thanks to Sheriff Dennard’s wife.
Certainly, my luck would run out eventually. There’d already been one incident before Jason and his pack had attacked Lucas and me at the high school football field. The paps don’t give up that easily.
Regardless of everything else, I was at Lounge to see if maybe my feeling about something was correct, now that I had all of my memories at my disposal. When I had my visions after jumping-slash-falling into the well, I had seen dead people on the streets and in buildings of Point Worth. Obviously, this was a vision of what was to come—or could occur. Point Worth was not on fire, had not been on fire, and two of the people I had seen in the vision were very much alive, I knew for a fact. So…why had I seen those two people in particular?
It was odd to me that in my vision I saw the dead body and saw the death of a person I was not all that close with in life. Why would seeing them dead or dying be important? How would their deaths affect me? If the hooded figure really wanted to rattle me, wouldn’t it be more effective to show me Oma’s or Lucas’ dead bodies or deaths? Even Ernst or one of the other Kobolds would have hit closer to home than the other two people. Maybe I was barking up the wrong tree or pulling at the wrong thread…but it seemed very suspicious to me. Oma and Lucas had been shown in other visions…so why not the first one?
Mr. Jackson Barkley, Lucas’ grandfather, and owner of Barkley’s hardware died in front of my eyes in the vision. Right after he had told me, “he’s coming.” Who Mr. Barkley was referring to was not the mystery. Why Mr. Barkley was the one to deliver the message was the confounding part. Not that I didn’t care whether Mr. Barkley lived or died—especially since it would destroy Lucas—but I had no personal emotional attachment to the man. Not like I did with Lucas, Oma, or Ernst.
The other person who was dead in my vision was currently prancing across the stage at Lounge, though the red high heels were nowhere in sight. Of course, you can’t always wear the same shoes—especially when you’re in the entertainment business. You have to switch things up, give people the ole razzle-dazzle with different fashion looks. Otherwise, you’ll come off as a cheap hack who doesn’t care about optics and presentation. Carlita, even though she was only regionally known, was not the kind to ignore her wardrobe.
Carlita was strutting across the stage, singing the opening number to Chicago—except the song had been retitled “All That Jizz.” So…it was tacky. But you don’t go to a drag show to get Shakespeare or a family-friendly rendition of your favorite songs. It was evident from watching Carlita command the stage as I sat at a table at the back of the room that she was a natural performer. Multiple times I blushed and laughed out loud at the lyrics she had come up with for her rendition of the song. Carlita obviously couldn’t see who was laughing since the spotlight was in her face for the performance, but I could tell that my laughter made her work harder. It was apparent that my laughter let her know that her routine was going to kill…once she actually performed it for a real audience.
As the last words roared from her mouth and the music came to a dazzling end, I stood at my table and clapped loudly, whistling to give it a little extra “oomph.” Carlita smiled grandly and held a hand to her eyes, trying to block out the spotlight so that she could see who was watching. Instead, the manager of Lounge approached the stage, wringing her hands as she walked up to the area at the front of the room. Carlita stopped trying to find me in the room, and instead, looked down at the manger, crossing her arms over her chest aggressively.
“It was wonderful, Carlita,” The manager said, simply. “But, do you think that…maybe…maybe…it’s a little too…colorful?”
Carlita assessed the manager for a moment before speaking.
“Well, darling,” She held her head up regally, “if you see a school bus pull up out front, warn me before the show. Otherwise, I think the boys and girls can handle it, don’t you?”
“I suppose so, but—”
Carlita waved her off and marched to the side of the stage and down the steps into the room of tables and booths. Once the spotlight was out of her eyes, and the manager was left with nothing to do but worry about the bawdiness of the song, Carlita’s eyes landed on me. Looking slightly taken aback, but pleasantly so, Carlita stared across the room at me.
“I’m starting to think that you’re stalking me, Rob.” She smiled wickedly. “The right way to woo a lady is with flowers and chocolates, and I see neither.”
Holding my hands out apologetically with a smile, I replied: “Will dinner sometime suffice, my love?”
“Oh, you!” She threw her hands up dramatically. “How could I ever be mad at you?”
“I assume it would be difficult.” I winked.
“What’s going on, sugar?” Carlita asked in a quieter voice as she sashayed across the room towards me, her hands outstretched. “Since you’re here, I can assume you know that I found a new home for my show?”
I took her hands in mine and kissed the backs of them with a flourish.
“The song was amazing.”
“Why, thank you.”
“You’ll bring down the house whenever you do your first show.” I nodded. “When is it? Maybe I can come see it?”
“I would be offended if you didn’t.” Carlita tapped me on the cheek playfully with the palm of her hand. “It’s Friday night, baby. Bring vieja loca and your…gentleman friend?”
“Lucas.”
“Lucas.” She parroted. “Sounds delicious. Boys with country-ass names are always scrumptious. A weakness of mine. Living in booty-ass Ohio means that I’m always weak.”
I laughed loudly.
“Of course, that doesn’t explain why you’re here now.” Carlita slid her arm through mine and pulled me towards the stage, walking slowly. “Sneaking a peek before the show is completely ready will give you the wrong idea. You didn’t get to see all of the lights, my dress—the confetti at the end! It will be fabulous, baby.”
“If i
t’s even better than tonight, you may as well pack up and move to Hollywood.” I cooed.
“Oh, you.” She giggled. “But, seriously, what in the fuck brought you down here in the middle of the day?”
Laughing again, I turned to her, letting her arm slide from mine. “Carlita…can I ask you a question that might seem odd?”
Her eyes lit up with a devilish glow.
“Those are my favorite sort of questions.”
“Have you ever met the man in the black hooded cloak?”
I asked the question firmly, evenly, making sure that my eyes locked with Carlita’s as I spoke. There was no point in pretending my question was a joke or that I might be testing her. Carlita had some answers. I was sure of it. For several tense, breathless seconds, though she didn’t bother to look shocked, Carlita stared at me. Finally, she sighed, an exhalation that seemed to come from the tips of her toes.
She crossed her arms over her chest again as she stared back at me, one eyebrow raised precipitously. “You know what? I suspected that you’d eventually put two-and-two together, being Esther Jean Wagner’s grandson after all. But I had no idea that people with the gift could be like…you.”
“Meaning?”
“More alluring than he.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment.” I frowned.
“It’s not.” Carlita shrugged, though neither the gesture nor the words held malice. “The deadliest, wickedest creatures are usually the most enticing. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I couldn’t argue, so I shrugged.
“What business do you have with him?”
“Old,” I said, nodding slowly, my eyes locked on hers. “Very old business.”
She cackled loudly, her arms dropping to her sides.
“Old business is all he has.” Carlita continued to cackle as though I had said the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. “He has so much business that he hasn’t had time to make new enemies, has he?”
“How old is your business with him?”
Carlita waved a hand, and the air shimmered around us, like fumes rising from a gas puddle on hot cement in the middle of summer. Everything around us froze. The manager, who had been walking towards the back of the room stopped in place. The ceiling fans five feet above our heads stopped in mid-whirl, and everything was deathly silent. Carlita looked around slowly, her eyes twinkling, taking in her work before turning her attention back to me. The act was impressive—something I never could have done, no matter how much I had wanted or tried. But Carlita and I were like apples to oranges. There was no reason to be jealous of her power.
“I’m betting…Oracle?”
She presented me with a delighted smile.
“What else?” She held her hands up dramatically.
“The theatrics would have given it away if it hadn’t been for a little memory problem I’ve had for…well, a while.”
Carlita just grinned, her hands going to her hips, marveling at her magics working around us. It was impressive, I had to give her that. The little magic I had was impressive by most standards, but what Carlita had whipped up on a whim was downright outstanding. Of course, I had a lot of questions, and Carlita had essentially stopped time, so I was going to take advantage of the situation.
“How long has Oma known?”
She shrugged. “We knew each other before she came to Point Worth.”
I nodded.
“Is it rude to ask a lady how old she is?”
“Carlita would never reveal her age!” She gasped playfully. “But Carlos might tell you that your grandmother was not the first—or even second or third—Wagner he’s dealt with.”
Her eyes were practically twinkling.
“Got it,” I said. “Can you tell me if there is any point in trying to avoid what seems inevitable? What will happen if I…if I face him?”
Carlita leaned in conspiratorially. “You know he’s not a ‘he,’ right? Well, it’s not a ‘she,’ either, I suppose. They’re all things at all times, appearing as they are expected to look—what a person expects them to look like at any given time. It is interesting that they appear to you as the man in the long black coat, though, right?”
“It’s a hooded cloak.”
“Style, baby.” Carlita tapped my cheek again. “But the meaning is the same.”
“I guess.” I nodded. “So…what will happen?”
Carlita sighed and gave a small laugh. “Baby, I’m an Oracle, not a psychic. Right now, I’m just a busted ass drag queen trying to get these shitheads to recognize my obvious talent.”
I smiled.
“If you want the future…maybe talk to Lucas.” Carlita went stone-faced.
My smile disappeared.
“My boyfriend is not a psychic,” I stated firmly.
“Your boyfriend knows things.” She twiddled her fingers in the air vaguely. “What is to come. That’s closer to being a psychic than I will ever be. Of course…he’s having a bit of a memory problem himself, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Pity.”
“Oma says if he gets his memories back, he’s in as much danger as we are,” I said. “Do you think that’s true?”
“That’s a better question.” Carlita popped her tongue approvingly. “Well, of course, he is, sugar. Even if he doesn’t get his memories back. And you know why.”
I was chewing at my lip.
“No one can hear us, sugar.” Carlita shook her head, then waved vaguely around us. “I took care of that.”
“Are you sure?”
“He hasn’t found me for several centuries—and I’ve said his name plenty of times here.” She shrugged. “I would say I am nearly one-hundred-percent sure that we are safe.”
“Good.”
“Lucas having his memories back only puts one person in danger, Rob.” Carlita continued. “And it ain’t himself.”
I frowned. “Who?”
“You, baby.” Carlita looked at me like I was stupid. “You mean so much to him as it is. And he, of course, is everything to you. If he gets all of his memories back, well, baby, he’s going to be as protective of you as you are of him. When it comes time, you’ll both be trying to push the other one out of the line of fire. The firemen will abandon the fire.”
Staring intensely into Carlita’s eyes, I wondered why she had repeated an expression that the man in the black hooded cloak had used.
“You only have one job, Rob.” She shrugged. “Lucas will distract you from that. That is why Esther Jean Wagner doesn’t want you to…do anything…to change what Lucas does or doesn’t remember. That’s why she’s kept him close ever since you left. To make sure he stays ignorant to everything that went on, is going on, will happen. Lucas could be collateral damage…or cause it. And she doesn’t trust you to keep that from happening.”
“Bitch.”
Carlita snorted, amused.
“Sorry.”
She waved me off. “Esther Jean cares about you, Rob.” Carlita shook her head at me. “If she didn’t, she wouldn’t give a damn what you did or didn’t do. Maybe you should do as she says?”
“Maybe.”
“Besides…how could you give Lucas his memories back without tipping off your friend in the cloak, after all?” Carlita asked slowly. “I mean…he has ears everywhere magic can reach, right?”
Carlita’s eyes twinkled as she leaned in. I watched her for a moment, then she blinked at me and pulled back just as something dawned on me.
“Where doesn’t magic reach?” I grinned.
“You’re smart.” She was tapping my cheek again. “Maybe he’ll have trouble with you after all.”
“Carlita…”
“Before I answer you, can I tell you something?”
I held out my hands, a gesture of consent.
“When someone is in danger, it is natural for the people they love to try and protect them,” she said. “It’s just human nature, baby. A parent jumps in front of a car to save their chil
d who wandered into the street. A lover jumps in front of a bullet to save their beloved. It’s just what people do. Humans, by instinct, protect the people they love—without thought or consideration.”
“Not always.”
“Usually.” She shrugged. “When the time comes, Lucas will do everything he can to save you. Whether you give him his memories back or not.”
“So…there’s no right course of action is what you’re telling me?” I shook my head in frustration, though I couldn’t help but give a bitter smile.
How was I to choose what to do if either thing could possibly have catastrophic results? Carlita stood there, perfect makeup, beautiful, skintight dress, gorgeous waves of black hair piled expertly on her head, her eyes alert and sparkling, the air still shimmering—quite literally with magic—around us. My main concern should have been the fact that I was stuck in a magic bubble with an Oracle who was surely centuries old, yet hiding away as a drag queen in Toledo, Ohio. All I could think about, though, was the fact that I didn’t know what to do about my boyfriend and his magically-induced amnesia.
“That’s not what I’m telling you.” Carlita corrected me, looking down to pick at one of her beautifully manicured nails. “What I’m telling you is that Lucas is his own person. We all have free will to do whatever it is that we choose to do when we’re faced with what is right and what is wrong. We all choose a side when the time comes. Whether we know why we chose what we chose or not. Do you want Lucas to make an educated decision—or just blindly follow you?”
Ah. That I understood.
“I got you.”
“I knew you would.” Carlita winked.
“Whose side are you on, Carlita?” I asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
“That is a truly ignorant question.” She giggled. “I think you know exactly which side I am on. You’ve seen it.”
Carlita. In the street. Dead. Fashionably dead in Louboutin heels, actually.
“I thought you weren’t psychic?” I raised an eyebrow.
She smiled. “I don’t have to be psychic to see that you look like you’re prepared to miss me, Rob.”